Lord Russell's father was created Duke of Bedford by William III., May 11, 1694. He was succeeded by his grandson, Wriothesley, who was married at the ripe age of fourteen and elevated to a separate peerage the same year. He had previously been requested to come forward as a candidate for the county of Middlesex; but the prudent Lady Russell refused to allow him. In the then state of public opinion he would have been elected without opposition.
The eighteenth century was the golden age of Whig families, at least till George III. became king, and the house of Russell continued to provide the country with a succession of dignified placemen. John IV., Duke of Bedford, was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in 1756. In 1762 his Grace, as the plenipotentiary of England, signed the preliminaries of peace at Fontainebleau with France and Spain—a work on which he can scarcely be congratulated, seeing that by it England was juggled out of nearly every advantage she had won by seven years of victory. The Duke's son, Francis, called by courtesy Marquis of Tavistock, married Lady Elizabeth Keppel, who literally died of grief when her husband was killed by a fall from his horse. Dr. Johnson's characteristic comment on this event was that if her ladyship had been a poor washerwoman with twelve children to mind, she would have had no time to die of grief. Lord Tavistock left three sons, Francis and John, successively fifth and sixth Dukes of Bedford, and William (posthumous), the unfortunate nobleman who, within living memory, was murdered by his French valet Courvoisier.
John, Earl Russell, the distinguished statesman who "upset the coach," is a son of the sixth duke, Lord Odo Russell, one of the ablest of modern diplomatists, a grandson of the same peer.
On the day after the head of the house of Russell was raised to ducal rank, the head of the Cavendishes received the same honor, being created Marquis of Hartington and Duke of Devonshire. This family claims descent from Sir John Cavendish, Lord Chief Justice of England in 1366, 1373, and 1377. "In the fourth year of Richard II. his lordship was elected chancellor of the university of Cambridge, and was next year commissioned, with Robert de Hales, treasurer of England, to suppress the insurrection raised in the city of York, in which year the mob, having risen to the number of fifty thousand, made it a point, particularly in the county of Suffolk, to plunder and murder the lawyers; and being incensed in a more than ordinary degree against the Chief Justice Cavendish, his son John having killed the notorious Wat Tyler, they seized upon and dragged him, with Sir John of Cambridge, prior of Bury, into the marketplace of that town, and there caused both to be beheaded." Thus far Burke, who has small sympathy to bestow on Wat Tyler, albeit that reformer was murdered in a cowardly way, whether it were Walworth or Cavendish who struck the blow. "For William Walworth, mayor of London, having arrested him (Wat Tyler), he furiously struck the mayor with his dagger, but being armed [i.e. the mayor being in armor], hurt him not; whereupon the mayor, drawing his baselard, grievously wounded Wat in the neck; in which conflict an esquire of the King's house, called John Cavendish, drew his sword and wounded him twice or thrice, even unto death. For which service Cavendish was knighted in Smithfield, and had a grant of £40 per annum from the King." The great-great-grandson of this Sir John Cavendish was gentleman usher to Cardinal Wolsey; after the death of his master King Henry took him into his own employment, to reward him for the fidelity with which he had served his former patron. His elder brother William was in 1530 appointed one of the commissioners for visiting and taking the surrenders of divers religious houses. Needless to add that from that day Mr. Cavendish had but to do as the King told him and make his fortune. Before his death he had begun to build the noble seat of Chatsworth, in Derbyshire, which his descendants still possess. His second son, and eventual heir, was created Earl of Devonshire by King James I. in 1618. The first earl's nephew was the renowned cavalier general created Marquis and subsequently Duke of Newcastle. He was at one time governor of the Prince of Wales (afterward Charles II.), and there is a touching epistle extant in which his youthful charge entreats the Marquis that he may not be compelled to take physic, which he feels sure would do him no good.
William, fourth earl of Devonshire, although raised to a dukedom by William III., distinguished himself, as did his son, the Marquis of Hartington, in the House of Commons, by vehement opposition to the King's retention of his Dutch guards after the conclusion of peace in 1697; and for this uncourtly conduct the country owes them a deep debt of gratitude. The Dutch guards were not likely to do much harm, but foreign troops have no business in a free state.
Henry Cavendish, the eminent chemist and philosopher, was grandson to the second duke (who married Rachel, daughter of William, Lord Russell). The present duke was senior wrangler of his year; his eldest son is leader of the Liberal party in the House of Commons.
Of the dukes of Marlborough, who are next on the list, it is unnecessary to say much. All the world knows the strange history of John Churchill, the noblest and the meanest of mankind. The great duke's only son died of the smallpox while yet a boy; but his honors were made perpetual in the female as well as the male line. The present duke is lineally descended on the father's side from a most worthy country gentleman, Sir Robert Spencer, of Althorp, raised to the peerage as Lord Spencer by James I. Lord Spencer's name should be dear to every American for the friendship he showed his neighbors the Washingtons. The Washingtons had at one time rather a severe struggle to make both ends meet, but they saw better days. John Washington, the heir of the house, was knighted and fought for Charles I. in the civil war. Disgusted with the commonwealth, he emigrated to America, hearing that men were more loyal on the other side of the Atlantic. He is commonly believed to have been the ancestor of George Washington. Such is the irony of fate.
The second Duke of Marlborough who, when unwell, would limit himself to a bottle of brandy a day, proved a real source of danger to his country. When he succeeded to his grandfather's honors in 1733, the faults of the victor of Blenheim were forgotten and only his surpassing military achievements remembered. King and people were alike determined to honor the man who bore his name, and, it was fondly deemed, inherited his qualities. He was made lord lieutenant of two counties, a knight of the garter, and promoted to high military command. Having conducted himself without discredit at Dettingen, he was thought equal to anything, and in the year 1758 Pitt, who felt kindly toward the Churchills, and who had been left £10,000 by Duchess Sarah, was so rash as to name him commander-in-chief of all the British forces in Germany destined to act under Prince Ferdinand. After all, the appointment did no harm, for the Duke died the same year. Exeunt the Dukes of Marlborough into infinite space. Henceforth they and their doings have no more human interest.
The Dukes of Rutland are another family dating their greatness from a share in the spoil of the monasteries. Thomas Manners, first Earl of Rutland, drew one of the best repartees ever made from Sir Thomas More, then Lord Chancellor. "Honores mutant mores," said the Earl to Sir Thomas in resent for some fancied affront. "Nay, my lord," replied More; "the pun is better translated into English—Honors change Manners." Among the descendants of this nobleman two are worthy a passing notice; viz., John, Marquis of Granby, the most dashing of cavalry officers, whose bluff features may still be seen on the signboards of many taverns in England; and Lord John Manners, heir-presumptive to the Dukedom of Rutland, and a member of the present Cabinet. Lord John is chiefly famous as the author of a poem in which occur the oft-quoted lines:
Let arts and learning, laws and commerce die, But keep us still our old nobility—