ter of the Earl of Cumberland. She first
married Richard Earl of Dorset, and afterwards the Earl of Pembroke. She
is described as a woman whose mind was endowed by nature with very
extraordinary attributes. Lord Pembroke, on the other hand, according to
Clarendon, pretended to no other qualification "than to understand
horses and dogs very well, and to be believed honest and generous." His
stables vied with palaces, and his falconry was furnished at immense
expense; but in his private life he was characterized by gross
ignorance and vice, and his public character was marked by ingratitude
and instability. The life of Lady Pembroke was embittered by this man
for near twenty years, and she was at length compelled to separate from
him. She lived alone, until her husband's death, which took place in
January 1650. One can understand that they were entirely unsuited to
each other, when Lady Pembroke in her Memorials is found to write thus
of her husband: "He was no scholar, having passed but three or four
months at Oxford, when he was taken thence after his father's death. He
was of quick apprehension, sharp understanding, very crafty withal; of a
discerning spirit, but a choleric nature, increased by the office he
held of Chamberlain to the King." Why, then, did the accomplished Lady
Anne Clifford unite herself to so worthless a person? Does she not
answer this question for us when she writes that he was "the greatest
nobleman in England"?

It is of some interest to us to remember that Francis Osborne, Dorothy's
uncle (her father's youngest brother), was Master of the Horse to this
great nobleman.

Whether Lord and Lady Leicester were, as Dorothy says, "in great
disorder" at this time, it is impossible to say. Lady Leicester is said
to have been of a warm and irritable temper, and Lord Leicester is
described by Clarendon as "staggering and irresolute in his nature."
However, nothing is said of their quarrels; but, on the other hand,
there is a very pathetic account in Lord Leicester's journal of his
wife's death in 1659, which shows that, whatever this "disorder" may
have been, a complete reconciliation was afterwards effected.

SIR,--You would have me say something of my coming. Alas! how fain I
would have something to say, but I know no more than you saw in that
letter I sent you. How willingly would I tell you anything that I
thought would please you; but I confess I do not like to give uncertain
hopes, because I do