In his palmy days, long before he was created Marquess, the good Earl lived in princely state in this Castle. Surrounded by faithful friends, numerous retainers, and a household that, by its daily expenditure, bespoke almost unlimited resources, he enjoyed in age all the happiness to which men look forward as the reward and solace of a virtuous youth; for, though long practised in the offices of Court, he could still relish the sweets of domestic retirement, the humanizing influence of science, and the conversation of pious and learned men. He was a friend of literature, a pattern of religious consistency, an example of loyalty which no reverses could shake; and when at last plunged into the deepest adversity, stript of his property, bent down with years, and suffering from bodily pain, he maintained a degree of mental serenity that softened the remembrance of his wrongs, showed the true foundation of his faith, and enabled him to view every dispensation of good or evil as coming from God, and intended, by weaning his thoughts from this world, to give him nearer and clearer views of heaven. Reduced in four short years from the height of prosperity into the very abyss of adversity--his home desolate, the prospects of his family blasted, his friends hopeless or in prison, himself an inmate of the Tower--it is impossible to withhold our sympathy from a man who, in no circumstances, forgot the true nobility of his nature, and the obligations of his creed; but in every trial could exclaim, in the words of his own motto--_Mutare vel timere sperno_. “Go, empty joyes, With all your noyse, And leave me here alone, In sweet sad silence to bemoane Your vaine and fleet delight; Whose danger none can see aright, Whilst your false splendour dims his sight. Go, and insnare, With your false ware, Some other easie wight, And cheat him with your flattering light; Rain on his head a shower Of honours, favour, wealth, and power-- Then _snatch it from him in an hour_.”[278]