HEROINES OF THE CIVIL WAR.
Nature of the struggle--Position of Queen Henrietta Maria--Activity
of women on both sides--Mrs. Hutchinson at Nottingham--Defence of
Lathom House by the Countess of Derby--Lady Arundel at Wardour
Castle--Lady Bankes besieged in Corfe Castle--Lady Lettice
Digby defends Greashill Castle--Lady Fanshawe’s visits to her
husband in prison--Experiences of a gentlewoman in the West of
England--Lady Musgrave and the Parliament--Lady Halkett assists
the Duke of York to escape--Lady Rochester and the elections--The
Jacobite rising--Flora McDonald.
The great constitutional struggle of the seventeenth century was a
struggle in which the whole nation was engaged. Every move on either
side sent a thrill of hope or fear, of joy or indignation, throughout
the kingdom. The brave defence of castle and home by the women, the
patient endurance of hardship, the courage in presence of danger,
the quick wit which could avert misfortune, make the Civil War of
the seventeenth century peculiarly rich in striking incident. Every
family of importance was ranged on one side or the other, and many
a one that could lay claim to no special distinction acquired fame
during the struggle, while a fierce additional interest was lent by
the religious element. All classes, in fact, were affected. None could
stand aloof. The civil war became not only a national but also a
domestic question, a matter of the deepest personal concern to hundreds
who had no interest in statecraft. It was remarkable for the absence of
any foreign element. The contest lay between King and people, or rather
between royal prerogative and the liberty of the subject. The Queen
herself, Henrietta of Nance, though as a Roman Catholic she was the
source of contention, played but an insignificant part in the war. She
had not the spirit of Margaret of Anjou, and, on account of her alien
creed, commanded the sympathies of neither side. The Queen never formed
a party strong enough to change the current of events. She was one of
the _dramatis personæ_ in the great tragedy, but not a leading actor.
It was a people’s war. The influence of foreign allies, the factions
of court favourites, were as nothing. In former periods when civil war
had raged, the flame had been kindled and fed by disputes for power
among sovereigns and princes; the struggle had always assumed something
of an imperial character. In the seventeenth century it was a purely
internal dissension. Hence the overwhelming interest felt in the
struggle by both women as well as men, of all classes.
Women both on the Royalist and the Puritan side were in the thick of
the fray, sometimes actually taking part in the fight, as in the case
of the Countess of Derby, whose defence of Lathom House against the
Parliamentarians is among the most noted incidents of the war; or like
Lucy Hutchinson, playing an equally important _rôle_ in attending to
the wounded. Mrs. Hutchinson, strong Puritan as she was, regarded
Cromwell as a usurper and a despot, though she admitted his greatness,
and his family excited her scorn and derision.
“His wife and children were setting up for principality which
suited no better with any of them than scarlet on the ape; only
to speak the truth of himself, he had much natural greatness
and well became the place he had usurped.”
Lucy Hutchinson’s father, Sir Allen Aspley, was governor of the Tower
during the time of Sir Walter Raleigh’s imprisonment. Her mother was
in the habit of visiting Sir Walter, and helping him with the chemical
experiments with which he wiled away the hours when not engaged in
writing his “History of the World.” It has been suggested that Mrs.
Hutchinson obtained from her mother some knowledge of the properties of
medicine, for during the siege of Nottingham she proved most helpful
in dressing the soldiers’ wounds, and her plasters and balsams were
found most efficacious even in dangerous cases. Mrs. Hutchinson was not
the only member of her sex who proved herself able and ready for action
in the city of Nottingham. After the siege was practically over, and
the royalist forces had departed, the town was constantly being fired.
Thereupon the women banded themselves together, and in parties of fifty
patrolled the streets every night.
Mrs. Hutchinson was of great service, at the beginning of 1660, in
assisting to quell the disturbances which arose over the elections.
There was a strong party in the city for the King, and much ill feeling
aroused between the townsmen and the soldiers of the Commonwealth. Just
as matters were coming to a crisis and the soldiers were preparing to
take vengeance on the citizens, Mrs. Hutchinson opportunely arrived--
“and being acquainted with the captaines perswaded them to doe
nothing in a tumultuary way, however provok’d, but to complain
to the generall, and lett him decide the businesse. The men,
att her entreaty, were content so to doe, the townsmen alsoe
consenting to restreine their children and servants and keepe
the publick peace.”
It was in the year 1643 that the Countess of Derby began her memorable
defence of Lathom House. The Countess was a Frenchwoman, a daughter of
the Duc de Tremouille, and a descendant of Count William of Nassau.
Negotiations began in May with a summons from Mr. Holland, Governor
of Manchester, to Lady Derby to subscribe to the propositions of the
Parliament or yield up Lathom House. The Earl was then away, fighting
for the King. Her ladyship refused either to subscribe or to give up
her house.
“From this time she endured a continual siege, being, with the
exception of the gardens and walks, confined as a prisoner
within her own walls, with the liberty of the castle-yard,
suffering the sequestration of the whole estate, besides daily
affronts and indignities from unworthy persons.”
The Countess was very circumspect, putting a restraint upon her
soldiers, and giving no provocation to her foes, “and so by her wisdom
kept them at a more favourable distance for the space of almost a whole
year.”
In the following February Sir Thomas Fairfax wrote demanding surrender,
to which the Countess replied that--
“she much wondered that Sir Thomas Fairfax should require her
to give up her lord’s house without any offence on her part
done to the Parliament, desiring that in a business of such
weight which struck both at her religion and at her life, and
that so nearly concerned her sovereign, her lord, and her whole
posterity, she might have a week’s consideration.”
The Parliamentarian general then proposed a conference at a house
about a quarter of a mile distant from Lathom House, but the Countess
refused with dignity, saying she conceived it “more knightly that Sir
Thomas Fairfax should wait upon her than she upon him.” After further
parleyings with Parliamentarians, she finally sent the following
spirited message:--
“That she refused all their articles, and was truly happy
that they had refused hers, protesting she had rather hazard
her life than offer the like again. That though a woman and a
stranger, divorced from her friends and robbed of her estate,
she was ready to receive their utmost violence, trusting in God
both for protection and deliverance.”
The siege thereupon commenced, and was carried on in a desultory
fashion by Sir Thomas Fairfax, who, after six or seven weeks, resigned
his post to Colonel Rigby of Preston. The Countess commanded her
troops, numbering three hundred soldiers, in person. The besiegers
amounted to between two and three thousand men, of whom they lost five
hundred, while the Countess lost only six during the whole period, two
of those being killed by their own negligence.
After manufacturing a number of grenadoes, the Colonel sent a very
peremptory message to the Countess demanding that Lathom House should
be surrendered. Lady Derby received the message surrounded by her
troops. She tore up the paper, and, turning to the messenger, said--
“Tell that insolent rebel [Rigby] he shall neither have person,
goods, nor house; when our strength of provisions are spent, we
shall find a fire more merciful than Rigby’s, and then, if the
providence of God prevent it not, my goods and house shall burn
in his sight; and myself, children, and soldiers, rather than
fall into his hands, will seal our religion and loyalty in the
same flame.”
The Countess followed up her words with deeds, and at four o’clock
the next morning caused a sally to be made, whereby her soldiers got
possession of the ditch and rampart, and of a very destructive mortar
piece which had been pouring forth grenadoes from its mouth on to the
besieged. Rigby wrote to the deputy-lieutenants of Lancashire begging
for assistance. “The length of the siege,” he complained, “and the hard
duties have wearied all soldiers.” As for himself, he says, “I almost
languish under the burden, having toiled above my strength.” However,
nobody had time to attend to Rigby’s complaints, and after a few more
weeks he raised the siege. Help was now coming to the beleaguered
garrison. The Earl of Derby and Prince Rupert were on their way, and
Rigby, in his endeavours to escape the Royalist forces, was surprised
and badly beaten just as he had reached the town of Bolton.
“In this memorable action the Countess was amply revenged.
The Earl of Derby took the first colour that fell before the
Royalists, and with his own hand cut down a man who had once
been his servant, but who had deserted with the intention of
betraying his mistress in the time of her greatest peril.”
Another memorable siege in 1643 was that of Wardour Castle in
Wiltshire, the family seat of Lord Arundel. The Parliamentarians seized
the opportunity when Lord Arundel was engaged in the king’s service
at Oxford to besiege the castle. They came with a supposed warrant to
seize certain plate, money, and arms. Lady Blanche Arundel, though
she had only a handful of men--twenty-five, it is said--to oppose the
thirteen hundred soldiers mustered under Sir Edward Hungerford and
Colonel Strode, bravely refused to yield to the demand that she should
surrender the castle, saying “she had a command from her lord to keep
it, and she would obey his command.” Cannon were brought up within
musket-shot, and the battery continued from Wednesday to the following
Monday. Two mines were sprung in a vault through which food was
conveyed. One of these mines, being connected by passages with several
parts of the castle, did much damage.
Sir Edward Hungerford again and again offered to grant quarter to the
women and children if the castle were surrendered, but the offer was
contemptuously refused, the women bravely resolving to die beside the
men rather than live on dishonourable terms. The female servants were
very useful in reloading muskets and bringing food to the soldiers.
But at length the besieged became worn out with the strain. Food was
short, and they got no rest night or day. The soldiers were so faint
and weary they could scarcely wield their arms.
“It might have been a doubt which they would have first loaded
their muskets withal, either powder before bullet or bullet
before powder, had not the maid servants (valiant beyond their
sex) assisted them and done that service for them. Lastly, now
when the rebels had brought petarrs and applied them to the
garden door (which if forced opened a free passage into the
castle), and balls of wild fire to show in at their windows,
and all hope of keeping the castle was taken away; now, and not
till now, did the besieged sound a parley.”
This was after the siege had lasted nine days. Five van-loads of costly
furniture were carried off by the Parliamentarians, who plundered and
destroyed as much as £100,000 worth of property. The women and children
were carried off prisoners to Shaftesbury.
Corfe Castle, Dorsetshire, was bravely held for the Royalists in 1643
by Lady Mary Bankes, wife of the Lord Chief Justice of the Common
Pleas, “to her eternall honour be it spoken, with her daughters, women
and five soldiers.” Being so short of men and arms, the besieged had
recourse to stones and hot embers. These missiles they cast over the
walls, which the foe were attempting to scale, and greatly diminished
the strength of the attack. The siege lasted six weeks, and the
leader of the Parliamentarian army was so dispirited that when the
news arrived that a party of Royalists were advancing to relieve the
castle, he took flight. The next in command, not being disposed to
try conclusions with a fresh force, did not even wait to collect his
artillery and ammunition, but slipped away at night in a boat. Among
other booty he left behind about a hundred horses.
A distinguished Irish lady, Lettice Digby, Baroness of Offaley,
displayed marvellous courage during the troubles of 1641, when the
Irish rebels stormed her castle of Greashill, in King’s County.
Although she was upwards of sixty years of age, she undertook the
defence of her home with great vigour. The castle stood in the midst
of bogs and woods, and Lady Lettice, relying on the security of her
position, closed the gates and refused to listen to any terms for
surrender. She was at length relieved by Viscount Lisle and Sir Charles
Cook, and, having been supplied with food and firearms, she resolved
not to leave the castle, but to take the risk of another assault. This
occurred soon after, and on this second occasion Sir Richard Grenville
came to her aid. Apparently this valorous lady was then induced to
change her quarters. She died in 1658, at Cobs Hill, Warwickshire, one
of her estates.
Lady Fanshawe, whose father was an ardent Royalist, endured a good
deal both before and after her marriage, which took place in 1644. Sir
Richard Fanshawe, who was a connection on her mother’s side, held the
post of Secretary of War to the Prince of Wales, and was taken prisoner
at the battle of Worcester.
“During the time of his imprisonment,” writes Lady Fanshawe
in the “Memoirs” she compiled for her children, “I failed not
constantly to go when the clock struck four in the morning,
with a dark lantern in my hand, all alone and on foot, from my
lodgings in Chancery-lane, at my cousin Youngs, to Whitehall,
in at the entry that went out of King-street into the
Bowling-green. There I would go under his window and softly
call him; he, after the first time excepted, never failed to
put out his head at the first call: thus we talked together,
and sometimes I was so wet with the rain that it went in at my
neck and out at my heels. He directed me how I should make my
addresses, which I did ever to their General Cromwell, who had
a great respect for your father, and would have bought him off
to his service upon any terms.”
After great exertions, she succeeded in getting her husband released on
bail.
While in Ireland Lady Fanshawe displayed great courage. She was in
Cork with her children, her husband being engaged elsewhere, during
the revolt of 1649. The city was in the hands of Cromwell’s army, but
“through thousands of naked swords” she conveyed her children and her
maids to a place of safety.
During the war women as well as men were called upon to contribute
money and arms to the Commonwealth. A letter from Cromwell himself was
addressed from Huntingdon, August 2, 1643, “to the Bachelors and Maids.”
“I understand,” he wrote, “by these gentlemen, the good
affection of your young men and maids, for which God is to be
praised. I approve of the business, only I desire to advise you
that your foot company may be turned into a troop of horse,
which indeed will (by God’s blessing) far more advantage the
cause than two or three companies of foot, especially if your
men be honest, godly men, which by all means I desire. I thank
God for stirring up the youth to cast in their mite, which I
desire may be employed to the best advantage; therefore my
advice is, that you would employ your twelve-score pounds to
buy my pistols and saddles, and I will provide four-score
horses; for £400 more will not raise a troop of horse.”
A typical instance of the straits to which gentlewomen were reduced,
and the hardships and injuries which they suffered, may be found in the
case of Mistress Joyce Jefferies, a maiden lady of good birth and some
fortune, living on her own property in the thoroughly Royalist city of
Hereford, which went through many vicissitudes during the Civil War. In
1638 Mistress Jefferies was called upon for ship money. This she paid,
and also provided one soldier in respect of her farm and one for her
other property in Hereford when the Trained Bands were called out. The
ancestral armour which hung rusting on her walls she had taken down and
cleaned ready for use. Up to the year 1642 Mistress Jefferies was able
to remain unmolested in her own house, but in September of that year
the Earl of Essex was advancing rapidly westward and took possession
of the city of Worcester. It was felt that Hereford was no longer a
safe place for Royalists, so, packing up some furniture and clothes,
Mistress Jefferies got into her carriage and drove away.
“I came,” she writes in her diary or account-book, “to
Kilkinton, to my cosin penreeses house from heriford for feare
of ye parliaments army, September 23^d, 1642. The 27 I came
from thence to Mr. Geeres at Garnons.”
She contrived to have some of her possessions sent after her, for there
are records of payment to different carriers--
“Paid Edward Parsons of heryford for helpping to carry my goods
out of my howse in heriford to the cart that brought hit to
Kilkinton, for feare of ye coming of ye parliaments army from
Worcester to heriford 1^s. Gave another man for helpping in
the same work 3^d. Paid Edward Stefens, Carier, for cariing a
way my trunks and boxes and bedding from heriford to Kilkinton
25^s.”
She saved some things by hiding them in the coal cellar, for she notes
down that she paid fourpence to a “carpinder to pass my standard powles
in ye cole house when the souldiers would had them barricade Widmarsh
Gate.” She did not get away much too soon, for she writes--
“Friday the 30. The Parliaments Army cam to herifford frõ
Worster, Henry Gray, Earle of Stamford, ye Generall. On
Tewsday morning October 4 captain Hamon and his barons company
plundered Mr. Geereses house at Garnons, both them and me of
much Goods, toke a way my 2 bay coache mares and som money,
and much Linen: and Elyza Acton’s clothes. I cam frõ Garnons
ye same Tewsday to Mr. John Garpinder’s to Hinton, a mile off,
and staied there till the 14 of December following.”
From place to place this good lady went seeking safety. She was reduced
to having her clothes hidden in different places.
“January 7 feare of ye plunderers gave goody Lawrence for
keeping clothes of myne and Eliza Actons (a young lady who
lived with her) in ye hill for feare 1^s.”
When she could not save her apparel from falling into the enemy’s
hands, she managed sometimes to redeem it, as in the following case:--
“Paid Mathias Rafford w^{ch} he laid out to redeeme my 2 black
bever Hatts, and 2 gould bands out of ye theefes or plunderers
hand, they took at Garnons 21/6.”
Soldiers had meantime been quartered in her house in Hereford, where
she had left her maidservants, and whither Miss Eliza Acton seems
to have gone from time to time to keep things in order. When the
Royalists triumphed and established a garrison in the city, Mistress
Jefferies paid her quota for the support of the soldiers. She was one
of the richest householders in the city. The victory of the Royalists
was short-lived, for in 1643 Hereford was again besieged by the
Parliamentary forces. So things went on for a couple of years, and
Mistress Jefferies had to consent to see her comfortable house in the
outskirts of the city razed to the ground to make room for military
operations when another siege was expected. Far from grumbling at her
own misfortunes, she was always ready to lend a helping hand to her
neighbours. The income derived from her estates was seized by those
other “plunderers,” the Parliamentary Committee, who doled out to her
some portion of her own property, imposing fines simply because she was
a Royalist.
A distant relative of Mistress Jefferies was reduced to the most abject
poverty during this period. This was a Mrs. Conyngesby, whose husband
was sheriff of the county of Hereford, and also the owner of Hampton
Court. Before the war broke out he had been burdened with debts, and
during the early years of the Commonwealth, while he was absent from
England, his family were reduced almost to beggary. Mrs. Conyngesby
was constantly besieging the authorities who received petitions in
Goldsmiths’ Hall, begging for one-fifth part of her husband’s estates,
for her children were wanting food. These kinds of petitions were
continually pouring in at Goldsmiths’ Hall, and though orders were
given for money to be paid, much laxity was shown in the execution,
and the wretched petitioners were kept for weary months in suspense and
privation, and deemed themselves fortunate if they secured anything
from the general wreck.
A foremost figure in the troubles going on in Ireland while war was
raging in England was Lady Ranelagh, daughter of the first Earl of
Cork. Through her persuasions her husband was induced to change sides
and come over from the King to the Parliament. He became a genuine
supporter of Cromwell, giving up to the common cause five castles, and
also aiding the Parliamentary forces with men and arms. His family
were, in consequence, reduced to great straits, and in 1646 Lady
Ranelagh petitioned Parliament for some support. The sum of £6 a-week
was allowed her for four years, and after this she had £4 a-week up to
1653. In spite of her anti-Stuart feelings, she was a good friend to
those of the other side who were in distress. The eldest son of Lord
Clarendon, who, after the Revolution, was involved in a plot for the
restoration of James II., owed much to her good offices, as did also
the second son who proclaimed himself in favour of the hereditary line
of sovereigns, and was in danger of losing his government pension.
Through Lady Ranelagh’s friendship with Bishop Burnet, who used his
good offices with the Queen, the offence was passed over. Lady
Ranelagh, on the other hand, made efforts to save the life of Lord
William Russell, and tried to help those persecuted for religion like
William Riffin, who was arrested by order of the Duke of Buckingham for
preaching in a Baptist chapel.
It will be seen how frequently women were called upon to take a
personal and decisive part in the great struggle of the seventeenth
century.
“There was no security against the lawlessness of the soldiery,
who availed themselves (on both sides) of the slightest pretext
for entering private houses, and plundering and menacing the
inhabitants. A suspicion of disaffection either way, or the
possession of arms or gunpowder, was excuse enough for violence
and rapine. Unprotected widows, or ladies left in charge of
mansions and domains while their husbands were out levying
troops, offered irresistible temptation to the scattered
parties of half-fed troops that went marauding hungrily over
the country.”[49]
Two sisters wrote the following appeal to General Fairfax:--
“May it please your Excellency to vouchsafe me and my sister
Ann your honourable favour and protection for our goods, and
that we may not suffer though my brother hath broke his promise
with your lordship; which I vow my Lord, I was altogether
ignorant of, and it grieves me infinitely; for that we have
ever found your lordship so noble a friend to our house.
Therefore I beseech your lordship to commiserate our cases who
are left orphans, and for my dear deceased father’s sake, who
loved and honoured your lordship truly, let us not, who are
innocent, suffer; but that your wonted goodness and favour may
still reflect and shine upon us, by which you shall oblige us
ever to remain my Lord,
“Your lordship’s most humble servants,
“MARY MIDDLETON,
“ANN MIDDLETON.”
The Parliament were very much afraid of the leading women in the
Royalist party, and to undermine their influence and prevent
communication, orders were given that certain ladies should be removed
from their homes. Colonel Chomeley was directed particularly to get
Lady Musgrave out of the way. A letter was sent from William Roe,
Secretary to the Commissioners, dated from Newcastle, April 12, 1645--
“Whereas we are informed that the wives of sundry of our
enemies in Carlisle are remaining at their own houses in
Cumberland and Westmoreland, from whence they may give
intelligence of all that passeth amongst yourselves, and are
ready to stir the vil humours and to improve all discontents,
to the raising up of tumults, and bringing in confusion with
the people and inhabitants their neighbours, round about them:
we think fit and hereby order that Colonel Chomeley shall take
care to apprehend all such persons as he may have just cause to
suspect to be stirrers up of sedition and insurrection; that
in particular he would repair to the Lady Musgrave at Eden
Hall, and conduct her to Carlisle, where she may remain with
her husband, Sir Philip Musgrave, in more security than in her
house at Eden Hall, in these tumultuous and troublesome times;
and of this service we expect an account as speedily as may be.”
Lady Musgrave, whose husband, Sir Philip Musgrave, was a staunch
Royalist, addressed the following remonstrance to Lord Fairfax:--
“I have formerly received your lordship’s protection for my
remaining at Eden Hall, if I be obedient to ordinance of
Parliament, which they cannot tax me, for my accusation is
suspicion of intelligence, without desert or proof. Colonel
Chomeley hath orders for my removing. I did desire the stay
of us till I knew your honour’s pleasure. Eden Hall is my
jointure, where my humble suit is to remain, being very unfit
for travel. But I wholly refer myself to your lordship’s
pleasure, both for means, and what place I and my children may
remain together at, presuming that your honourable favour and
worth will consider my poor condition, which shall ever oblige
me to be,
“Your most obedient servant,
“JULIAN MUSGRAVE.”
Another instance of the prominent part which women were compelled to
take in the stormy politics of the seventeenth century, may be found
in the life of Lady Anne Halkett, the daughter of Thomas Murray, who
was Secretary to Charles I. when Prince of Wales. It was Mistress Anne
who, at the request of Colonel Bamfield, assisted the Duke of York to
escape from St. James’s Palace. She caused a female costume to be made
for the duke by her own tailor, having first procured the necessary
measurements from Colonel Bamfield. There was a little awkwardness
about this initial proceeding, for the tailor much wondered at the
directions given him.
“When I gave the measure to my tailor to inquire how much
mohaire would serve to make a petticoate and wastcoate to a
young gentlewoman of that bignesse and stature, hee considered
itt a long time, and said hee had many gownes and suites, butt
hee had never made any to such a person in his life. I thought
hee was in the right, butt his meaning was, hee had never seene
any woman of so lowe a stature have so big a waste; however
hee made itt as exactly fitt as if hee had taken the measure
himselfe. It was a mixed mohaire of a light haire colour and
blacke, and ye under petticoate was scarlett.”
It was arranged that the duke should make his escape on the evening
of April 20, 1648. The duke was accustomed to play at hide and seek
with his attendants after supper, and this game was employed to cover
his flight. Colonel Bamfield waited at the garden gate of the palace,
and conveyed the duke to a house that he had hired, where the costume
was in readiness, and Mistress Anne and another were waiting in great
anxiety.
“I had many feares,” she writes, “for Colonel Bamfield had
desired me, if they came nott there precisely by ten a’clocke,
to shift for myselfe, for then I might conclude they were
discovered, and soe my stay there could doe no good, but
prejudice my selfe. Yett this did nott make me leave the howse,
though ten a’clocke did strike, and hee that was intrusted
offten wentt to the landing place, and saw no boate comming was
much discouraged, and asked mee what I would doe. I told him
I came there with a resolution to save his Highnesse, and I
was fully determined nott to leave that place till I was outt
of hopes of doing what I came there for, and would take my
hazard. Hee left me to go againe to ye watter-side, and heard
a great noise of many as I thought comming up staires, which
I expected to be soldiers to take mee, but it was a pleasing
disapointmentt, for ye first that came in was ye Duke, who with
much joy I took in my armes and gave God thankes for his safe
arrivall. His Highnese called ‘Quickely, quickely, dress me,’
and putting off his cloaths I dressed him in the women’s habitt
that was prepared, which fitted his Highnese very well, and was
pretty in itt. After hee had eaten something I made ready while
I was idle lest his Highnese should be hungry, and having sent
for a Woodstreet cake (which I knew he loved) to take in the
barge, with as much hast as could bee his Highnese wentt crose
the bridge to ye stairs where the large barge lay, Colonel
Bamfield leading him; and immediately the boatmen plied the
oare so well that they weare soone out of sight, having both
wind and tyde with ym.”
The duke was not missed at first, his attendants supposing he had found
some secure hiding-place. But as time sped on a thorough search was
made, and the Earl of Northumberland, who had charge of the duke, sent
to acquaint the Speaker of the House of Commons. Orders were given to
stop and search all ships leaving the Cinque Ports, but the clerks
employed to write the instructions were slow in making out the papers.
“None of them were able to writt one right, butt ten or twelve
of y^m were cast by before one was according to their mind.”
So the orders arrived too late.
In 1653 Mistress Anne Murray, while staying in Edinburgh, rendered
an important service to the Earl of Balcarres, who was in danger of
arrest. She undertook to warn him, and started early in the morning
attended by a man-servant, reaching the Earl’s residence before ten
o’clock. Lord and Lady Balcarres immediately left the house, and at
their request Mistress Murray stayed with the children and packed up
the books in trunks, for the Earl had a very fine library.
“I was very desirous,” she writes, “to serve them faithfully
in what I was intrusted, and as soone as my Lord and Lady were
gone, I made locke up the gates, and with ye helpe of Logan who
served my Lord, and one of ye women, both beeing very trusty,
I tooke downe all ye bookes, and putting them in trunkes and
chests, sentt them all outt of the house in the night to the
places appointed by my Lord, taking a short way of inventory
to know what sort of bookes were sentt to every person.... The
things had nott been two houres outt of the house when the
troope of horse came and asked for my Lord.... They searched
all the house, and seeing nothing in itt butt bare walls and
weemen and children, they wentt away.”
Just before the Restoration, in February, 1660, when Monk caused
the secluded members to be re-admitted to what was called a Free
Parliament, there was great excitement among the country gentlemen.
One of the most notable politicians was Lady Rochester, whose son, Sir
Henry Lee, was a candidate. She writes to her friend Mr. Thomas Yates,
on February 23--
“This day I received a letter from you with all the good newes
in it, for which I give you thanks, and also for the care
you tell me you have taken for my sonne Lee’s being chosen a
Parliament man in the next election. I was formerly spoken to
for Mr. Appletree, whome I must now lay absolutely aside by
reason that Sir Ralphe Verney desires to bee one, who is a
person whose owne merits is such, as it will bee a happinesse
to the place, and they will have cause to give us thanks for
him; besides, you know his relation to the childrens businesse
obleiges me to doe him any service hee shall comand; if there
should be noe oath imposed nor engagement, Sir Ralphe will
accept of it himselfe, and if there should be any reason to
divest him I shall desire it for his sonne. Good Mr. Yates,
next to my sonne Lee, let not Sir Ralphe Verney faile of being
chosen. What you shall say to the people of the place to
encourage them to it, I shall leave to your prudence, depending
uppon your descreation in presenting his merrits, and truly it
will bee much to my satisfaction to serve him in this, and it
will bee very kindly taken from you by her that is ye
“Your friend and servant,
“ANNE ROCHESTER.”
Lady Rochester was a person of influence, and was besieged by
applications for help. A little later she writes again--
“Here is such a doe about providing for burgeses place the nex
perlement, I have ben soe trobeled with Solicitors for those
places in the children’s estate that it has bin very trobelsome
too mee, but I put them all off with telling them that I am
already promised as far as my interest goes; I hope that Yates
wil be carefull in securing a place for you and my sonne
Lee, and those will bee as many as wee can compas. The town
of Mamsbery sent too my sonne Lee that if hee would come in
person they did hope too chuse him, though there were at least
thirteine that did sue to bee choose in that towne, soe my
sonne meanes too goe thether at the election for feare of the
worst. Sir, if therebe anything wherein I may serve you more
then I doe yet understand, bee pleased to command her that is
your friend and servant
“ANNE ROCHESTER.”
Turning from England to Scotland, we find women playing a notable part
at a later period, when the House of Stuart again involved the country
in civil war. The Jacobites kept up a political ferment from the time
when James II. was impelled to lay down his crown and fly, to the death
of his grandson Prince Charlie. The Young Pretender, who has been
variously described as the pink of chivalry and a worthless debauchee,
was the object of a very real and practical enthusiasm. In Scotland,
ladies of rank and wealth enlisted eagerly in his cause. There is very
little that is admirable in such partisans of Prince Charlie as Lady
Ogilvie and the Duchess of Perth beyond their dauntless courage. But
if half the men who flocked to the Young Pretender’s standard had been
filled with the fiery spirit of those two notorious Scotchwomen, the
course of political events would have been altered. As it was, they
materially influenced the action of the leaders of the rebel party.
Had it not been for the Duchess, the Duke of Perth would have been
but a lukewarm adherent, and certainly would never have bestirred
himself to raise a troop for the Prince on his own estate. But the
Duchess shamed him into action. She herself went about for three days
and nights collecting recruits, and when she had mustered seven
hundred and fifty, she caused the Chevalier, as he was called, to be
proclaimed by sound of bagpipes and hunting-horns from the walls of
Castle Drummond. She accompanied the Scotch army to England, and when
the expected reinforcements failed to appear at Carlisle, she told the
hesitating Duke that if he turned back she would lead the men herself.
She had not only to overcome her husband’s timidity, but to contend
with the weakness of the Prince. When he talked of a retreat at Derby,
she expressed her disgust in no measured terms, and gave him clearly to
understand that she thought him a coward.
“If,” said the indignant lady, “I had as many women in my train
as the Prince has men in his, I would not turn my back upon all
the power the enemy could bring up.”
Much against her will, she was forced into the rear at the battle of
Culloden, and was ultimately taken prisoner.
Her friend, Lady Ogilvie, was likewise always to be found wherever
fighting was going on. She was present at the battle of Falkirk and
at the siege of Stirling; but, unfortunately, her ferocity of temper
marred the excellence of her courage. Her political foes were enemies
for whom no measure of retaliation was too harsh. Lady Ogilvie, like
the Duchess of Perth, was taken prisoner after Culloden, though she was
not present at the battle.
But the heroine of the Jacobite rising was the famous Flora McDonald.
The gentle but high-spirited girl, whose name has become a household
word, was far from being a politician. When the Prince of Wales visited
her in London after her release from the Tower, she said very frankly
that she only acted towards Prince Charlie as she would have acted
towards his Royal Highness himself had their positions been reversed.
Womanly compassion moved her to imperil her life and the prospects of
her family to relieve the distresses of a fugitive prince. At the same
time she shared the enthusiasm of her country for the house of Stuart.
The romantic story of her journey with Prince Charlie attired as her
Irish maid-servant has been fully told in other pages.[50] Her want of
precaution in not stopping the mouths of the boatmen led to her arrest.
Two weary months she spent in prison in Scotland, and was then conveyed
to London and confined in the Tower. From this ominous fortress she was
removed and placed in charge of a private family, where the Prince of
Wales made his totally unexpected visit. Her candour so impressed him
that he advised she should be restored to her friends. A free pardon
was sent her, and Flora McDonald became the lioness of the London
season. To the young Scotch gentlewoman, unaccustomed to the turmoil
of fashionable life, and loving the freedom and solitude of the moors,
London society soon became oppressive. She writes--
“To be in the fashion in London, the people appeared to me to
live more out of their houses than in them; in the afternoon
visiting, driving in their family coaches, attending sale-rooms
where trumpery articles were sold by auction to the highest
bidder, sometimes really scarcely worth taking home; for
the principal part of the amusement consisted in the ladies
outbidding each other, and generally amongst friends, so that
large sums of money used to change hands in this frivolous way,
which, no doubt, made their husbands very cross. However, the
town ladies would, and I suppose ever will, contrive to have
their own way. Then came the formal dinner-parties--oh, how I
used to yawn behind my fan!--and often we went to see the play
in Drury Lane, and, if it chanced to be a mournful tragedy,
I could not help being so silly as to cry, it all seemed so
natural and life-like. The best actor was Mr. Garrick, and he
certainly was a great man in his profession. Mr. Cibber also
was wonderfully clever: these were the first stage performers
at that time....”
She goes on to describe how soon she tired of the constant whirl of
London fashionable life, out all day driving from house to house, and
every night at some place.
“I was sick,” she declares, “of the compliments paid me;
indeed, in many cases the attentions of the gentlemen went
beyond compliments.”
Presently this brilliant figure disappears from English society, and
the heroine returns to her native land to marry her kinsman, Allan
McDonald, and to become the mother of the celebrated Sir John McDonald.