JAMES II.'S ESCAPES
We have spoken of the old houses associated with Charles II.'s
escapes, let us see what history has to record of his unpopular
brother James. The Stuarts seem to have been doomed, at one time
or another, to evade their enemies by secret flight, and in some
measure this may account for the romance always surrounding that
ill-fated line of kings and queens.
James V. of Scotland was wont to amuse himself by donning a disguise,
but his successors appear to have been doomed by fate to follow
his example, not for recreation, but to preserve their lives.
Mary, Queen of Scots, upon one occasion had to impersonate a
laundress. Her grandson and great-grandson both were forced to
masquerade as servants, and her great-great-grandson Prince James
Frederick Edward passed through France disguised as an abbé.
The escapades of his son the "Bonnie Prince" will require our
attention presently; we will, therefore, for the moment confine
our thoughts to James II.
With the surrender of Oxford the young Prince James found himself
Fairfax's prisoner. His elder brother Charles had been more
fortunate, having left the city shortly before for the western
counties, and after effecting his escape to Scilly, he sought
refuge in Jersey, whence he removed to the Hague. The Duke of
Gloucester and the Princess Elizabeth already had been placed
under the custody of the Earl of Northumberland at St. James's
Palace, so the Duke of York was sent there also. This was in 1646.
Some nine months elapsed, and James, after two ineffectual attempts
to regain his liberty, eventually succeeded in the following
manner.
Though prisoners, the royal children were permitted to amuse
themselves within the walls of the palace much as they pleased,
and among the juvenile games with which they passed away the
time, "hide-and-seek" was first favourite. James, doubtless with
an eye to the future, soon acquired a reputation as an expert
hider, and his brother and sister and the playmates with whom
they associated would frequently search the odd nooks and corners
of the old mansion in vain for an hour at a stretch. It was,
therefore, no extraordinary occurrence on the night of April 20th,
1647, that the Prince, after a prolonged search, was missing. The
youngsters, more than usually perplexed, presently persuaded the
adults of the prison establishment to join in the game, which,
when their suspicions were aroused, they did in real earnest.
But all in vain, and at length a messenger was despatched to
Whitehall with the intelligence that James, Duke of York, had
effected his escape. Everything was in a turmoil. Orders were
hurriedly dispatched for all seaport towns to be on the alert,
and every exit out of London was strictly watched; meanwhile,
it is scarcely necessary to add, the young fugitive was well
clear of the city, speeding on his way to the Continent.
The plot had been skilfully planned. A key, or rather a duplicate
key, had given admittance through the gardens into St. James's Park,
where the Royalist, though outwardly professed Parliamentarian,
Colonel Bamfield was in readiness with a periwig and cloak to
effect a speedy disguise. When at length the fugitive made his
appearance, minus his shoes and coat, he was hurried into a coach
and conveyed to the Strand by Salisbury House, where the two
alighted, and passing down Ivy Lane, reached the river, and after
James's disguise had been perfected, boat was taken to Lyon Quay
in Lower Thames Street, where a barge lay in readiness to carry
them down stream.
So far all went well, but on the way to Gravesend the master
of the vessel, doubtless with a view to increasing his reward,
raised some objections. The fugitive was now in female attire,
and the objection was that nothing had been said about a woman
coming aboard; but he was at length pacified, indeed ere long
guessed the truth, for the Prince's lack of female decorum, as
in the case of his grandson "the Bonnie Prince" nearly a century
afterwards, made him guess how matters really stood. Beyond Gravesend
the fugitives got aboard a Dutch vessel and were carried safely
to Middleburg.
We will now shift the scene to Whitehall in the year 1688, when,
after a brief reign of three years, betrayed and deserted on
all sides, the unhappy Stuart king was contemplating his second
flight out of England. The weather-cock that had been set up on
the banqueting hall to show when the wind "blew Protestant" had
duly recorded the dreaded approach of Dutch William, who now was
steadily advancing towards the capital. On Tuesday, December 10th,
soon after midnight, James left the Palace by way of Chiffinch's
secret stairs of notorious fame, and disguised as the servant
of Sir Edward Hales, with Ralph Sheldon--La Badie--a page, and
Dick Smith, a groom, attending him, crossed the river to Lambeth,
dropping the great seal in the water on the way, and took horse,
avoiding the main roads, towards Farnborough and thence to
Chislehurst. Leaving Maidstone to the south-west, a brief halt
was made at Pennenden Heath for refreshment. The old inn, "the
Woolpack," where the party stopped for their hurried repast,
remains, at least in name, for the building itself has of late
years been replaced by a modern structure. Crossing the Dover
road, the party now directed their course towards Milton Creek,
to the north-east of Sittingbourne, where a small fishing-craft
lay in readiness, which had been chartered by Sir Edward Hales,
whose seat at Tunstall[1] was close by.
[Footnote 1: The principal seat of the Hales, near Canterbury, is
now occupied as a Jesuit College. The old manor house of Tunstall,
Grove End Farm, presents both externally and internally many
features of interest. The family was last represented by a maid
lady who died a few years since.]
One or two old buildings in the desolate marsh district of Elmley,
claim the distinction of having received a visit of the deposed
monarch prior to the mishaps which were shortly to follow. King's
Hill Farm, once a house of some importance, preserves this tradition,
as does also an ancient cottage, in the last stage of decay,
known as "Rats' Castle."
[Illustration: "RATS' CASTLE," ELMLEY, KENT]
[Illustration: KING'S HILL FARM, ELMLEY, KENT]
At Elmley Ferry, which crosses the river Swale, the king got
aboard, but scarcely had the moorings been cast than further
progress was arrested by a party of over-zealous fishermen on
the look out for fugitive Jesuit priests. The story of the rough
handling to which the poor king was subjected is a somewhat hackneyed
school-book anecdote, but some interesting details have been handed
down by one Captain Marsh, by James's natural son the Duke of
Berwick, and by the Earl of Ailesbury.
From these accounts we gather that in the disturbance that ensued
a blow was aimed at the King, but that a Canterbury innkeeper named
Platt threw himself in the way and received the blow himself. It
is recorded, to James II.'s credit, that when he was recognised
and his stolen money and jewels offered back to him, he declined
the former, desiring that his health might be drunk by the mob.
Among the valuables were the King's watch, his coronation ring,
and medals commemorating the births of his son the Chevalier
St. George and of his brother Charles II.
The King was taken ashore at a spot called "the Stool," close
to the little village of Oare, to the north-west of Faversham,
to which town he was conveyed by coach, attended by a score of
Kentish gentlemen on horseback. The royal prisoner was first
carried to the "Queen's Arms Inn," which still exists under the
name of the "Ship Hotel." From here he was taken to the mayor's
house in Court Street (an old building recently pulled down to
make way for a new brewery) and placed under a strict guard, and
from the window of his prison the unfortunate King had to listen
to the proclamation of the Prince of Orange, read by order of the
mayor, who subsequently was rewarded for the zeal he displayed
upon the occasion.
The hardships of the last twenty-four hours had told severely upon
James. He was sick and feeble and weakened by profuse bleeding
of the nose, to which he, like his brother Charles, was subject
when unduly excited. Sir Edward Hales, in the meantime, was lodged
in the old Court Hall (since partially rebuilt), whence he was
removed to Maidstone gaol, and to the Tower.
Bishop Burnet was at Windsor with the Prince of Orange when two
gentlemen arrived there from Faversham with the news of the King's
capture. "They told me," he says, "of the accident at Faversham,
and desired to know the Prince's pleasure upon it. I was affected
with this dismal reverse of the fortunes of a great prince, more
than I think fit to express. I went immediately to Bentinck and
wakened him, and got him to go in to the Prince, and let him
know what had happened, that some order might be presently given
for the security of the King's person, and for taking him out
of the hands of a rude multitude who said they would obey no
orders but such as came from the Prince."
Upon receiving the news, William at once directed that his
father-in-law should have his liberty, and that assistance should
be sent down to him immediately; but by this time the story had
reached the metropolis, and a hurried meeting of the Council
directed the Earl of Feversham to go to the rescue with a company
of Life Guards. The faithful Earl of Ailesbury also hastened to
the King's assistance. In five hours he accomplished the journey
from London to Faversham. So rapidly had the reports been circulated
of supposed ravages of the Irish Papists, that when the Earl
reached Rochester, the entire town was in a state of panic, and
the alarmed inhabitants were busily engaged in demolishing the
bridge to prevent the dreaded incursion.
But to return to James at Faversham. The mariners who had handled
him so roughly now took his part--in addition to his property--and
insisted upon sleeping in the adjoining room to that in which
he was incarcerated, to protect him from further harm. Early
on Saturday morning the Earl of Feversham made his appearance;
and after some little hesitation on the King's side, he was at
length persuaded to return to London. So he set out on horseback,
breaking the journey at Rochester, where he slept on the Saturday
night at Sir Richard Head's house. On the Sunday he rode on to
Dartford, where he took coach to Southwark and Whitehall. A temporary
reaction had now set in, and the cordial reception which greeted
his reappearance revived his hopes and spirits. This reaction,
however, was but short-lived, for no sooner had the poor King
retired to the privacy of his bed-chamber at Whitehall Palace,
than an imperious message from his son-in-law ordered him to
remove without delay to Ham House, Petersham.
[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO SECRET PASSAGE, "ABDICATION HOUSE,"
ROCHESTER]
[Illustration: "ABDICATION HOUSE," ROCHESTER]
James objected strongly to this; the place, he said, was damp and
unfurnished (which, by the way, was not the case if we may judge
from Evelyn, who visited the mansion not long before, when it was
"furnished like a great Prince's"--indeed, the same furniture
remains intact to this day), and a message was sent back that if
he must quit Whitehall he would prefer to retire to Rochester,
which wish was readily accorded him.