The King's character.--His proverbial grace.--He tells a story well.--"A
warmth and sweetness of the blood."--Beautiful Barbara Palmer.--Her
intrigue with my Lord Chesterfield.--James, Duke of York.--His
early days.--Escape from St. James's.--Fights in the service of
France.--Marriage with Anne Hyde.--Sensation at Court.--The Duke of
Gloucester's death.--The Princess of Orange.--Schemes against the
Duke of York's peace.--The "lewd informer."--Anne Hyde is acknowledged
Duchess of York.
Whilst the kingdom was absorbed by movements consequent on its change of
government, the court was no less engrossed by incidents relative to the
career it had begun. In the annals of court life there are no pages more
interesting than those dealing with Charles II, and his friends; in the
history of kings there is no more remarkable figure than that of the
merry monarch himself.
Returning to rule over a nation which, during his absence, had been
distracted by civil strife, King Charles, young in years, brave in
deeds, and surrounded by that halo of romance which misfortune lends its
victims, entirely gained the hearts of his subjects. Nature had endowed
him with gifts adapted to display qualities that fascinated, and
fitted to hide blemishes which repelled. On the one hand his expressive
features and shapely figure went far towards creating a charm which
his personal grace and courtesy of manner completed; on the other, his
delicate tact screened the heartlessness of his sensualism, whilst his
surface sympathies hid the barrenness of his cynicism.
With the coolness and courage he had shown in danger, the shrewdness
and wit he continually evinced, and the varied capacities he certainly
possessed, Charles II. might have made his reign illustrious, had not
his love of ease and detestation of business rendered him indifferent
to all things so long as he was free to follow his desires. But these
faults, which became grievous in the eyes of his subjects, commended him
to the hearts of his courtiers, the common purpose of whose lives was
pursuit of pleasure. Never was sovereign more gracious to those who came
in contact with him, or less ceremonious with his friends; whilst abroad
he had lived with his little band of courtiers more as a companion
than a king. The bond of exile had drawn them close together; an equal
fortune had gone far towards obliterating distinctions of royalty; and
custom had so fitted the monarch and his friends to familiarity, that on
his return to England neither he nor they laid aside a mutual freedom of
treatment which by degrees extended itself throughout the court. For all
that, "he was master," as Welwood says, "of something in his person and
aspect that commanded both love and admiration at once."
Among his many gifts was that of telling a story well--a rare one 'tis
true in all ages. Never was he better pleased than when, surrounded by
a group of gossips, he narrated some anecdote of which he was the hero;
and, though his tales were more than twice told, they were far from
tedious; inasmuch as, being set forth with brighter flashes of wit
and keener touches of irony, they were ever pleasant to hear. His
conversation was of a like complexion to his tales, pointed, shrewd, and
humorous; frequently--as became the manner of the times--straying far
afield of propriety, and taking liberties of expression of which nice
judgments could not approve. But indeed his majesty's speech was not
more free than his conduct was licentious. He could not think, he
gravely told Bishop Burnet, "God would make a man miserable for taking
a little pleasure out of the way." Accordingly he followed the free bent
of his desires, and his whole life was soon devoted to voluptuousness;
a vice which an ingenious courtier obligingly describes as a "warmth and
sweetness of the blood that would not be confined in the communicating
itself--an overflowing of good nature, of which he had such a stream
that it would not be restrained within the banks of a crabbed and
unsociable virtue."
The ease and freedom of his continental life had no doubt fostered this
lamentable depravity; for his misfortunes as an exiled king by no
means prevented him following his inclinations as an ardent lover.
Accordingly, his intrigues at that time were numerous, as may be judged
from the fact of Lady Byron being described as "his seventeenth mistress
abroad." The offspring of one of his continental mistresses was destined
to plunge the English nation into civil warfare, and to suffer a
traitor's death on Tower Hill in the succeeding reign.
"The profligacy which Charles practised abroad not being discontinued
at home, he resumed in England an intrigue commenced at Brussels a short
time before the restoration. The object of this amour was the beautiful
Barbara Palmer, afterwards, by reason of her lack of virtue, raised to
the peerage under the titles of Countess of Castlemaine, and Duchess of
Cleveland. This lady, who became a most prominent figure in the court of
the merry monarch, was daughter of William, second Viscount Grandison,
a brave gentleman and a loyal, who had early in life fallen in the civil
war whilst fighting for his king. He is described as having, among other
gifts, "a faultless person," a boon, which descended to his only child,
the bewitching Barbara. In the earliest dawn of her womanhood she
encountered her first lover in the person of Philip Stanhope, second
Earl of Chesterfield. My lord was at this time a youthful widower, and
is described as having "a very agreeable face, a fine head of hair, an
indifferent shape, and a pleasant wit. He was, moreover, an elegant beau
and a dissolute man--testimony of which latter fact may be gathered from
a letter written to him in 1658, by his sister-in-law, Lady Essex, to
prevent the "ruin of his soule." Writes her ladyship: "You treate
all the mad drinking lords, you sweare, you game, and commit all the
extravagances that are insident to untamed youths, to such a degree that
you make yourselfe the talke of all places, and the wonder of those who
thought otherwise of you, and of all sober people."
When Barbara was sixteen, my lord, then in his twenty-third year,
inherited the title and estates of his grandfather: he therefore became
master of his own fortune and could bestow his hand where he pleased.
That he was in love with Barbara is, indeed, most true; but that his
passion was dishonourable is likewise certain: for though he wrote her
letters full of tenderness, and kept assignations with her at Butler's
shop, on Ludgate Hill, he was the while negotiating a marriage with one
Mrs. Fairfax, to whom he was not, however, united. His intrigue with
Barbara continued for upwards of three years, when it was temporarily
suspended by her marriage to one Roger Palmer, a student of the Inner
Temple, the son of a Middlesex knight, and, moreover, a man of the most
obliging temper, as will hereafter be seen. Barbara's loyalty to her
husband was but of short duration. Before she had been nine months a
wife, we find her writing to her old lover she is "ready and willing
to goe all over the world" with him--a sacrifice he declined to accept!
though eager to take advantage of the affection which prompted it. A
little while later he was obliged to quit England; for it happened
in the first month of the year 1660 he quarrelled with and killed one
Francis Woolley, a student at law, to avoid the consequences of which
act he speedily fled the country.
Arriving at Calais, he wrote to King Charles, who was then preparing to
return, throwing himself on his mercy, and beseeching his pardon; which
the king granting, Lord Chesterfield sought his majesty at Brussels.
Soon afterwards Barbara Palmer and her complaisant husband, a right
loyal man, joined the king's court abroad, when the intrigue begun which
was continued on the night of the monarch's arrival in London. True the
loyal PARLIAMENTARY INTELLIGENCER stated "his majesty was diverted from
his pious intention of going to Westminster to offer up his devotions
of prayer and praise in publick according to the appointment of his
Majesty, and made his oblations unto God in the presence-chamber;" but
it is, alas, equally certain, according to Oldmixon, Lord Dartmouth, and
other reliable authorities, he spent the first night of his return
in the company of Barbara Palmer. From that time this abandoned woman
exercised an influence over the king which wholly disgraced his court,
and almost ruined his kingdom.
Another prominent figure, whose history is inseparable from the king's,
was that of his majesty's brother, James, Duke of York--a man of greater
ambition and lesser talents than the merry monarch, but one whose
amorous disposition equalled the monarch's withal. At an early period
of his life the Duke of York was witness of the strife which divided his
unhappy father's kingdom. When only eight years old he was sent for by
Charles I. to York, but was forbidden by the Parliament to leave St.
James's Palace. Despite its commands he was, however, carried to
the king by the gallant Marquis of Hereford. That same year the boy
witnessed the refusal of Sir John Hotham, Governor of Hull, to admit
his majesty within the gates; and James was subsequently present at the
siege of Bristol, and the famous battle of Edgehill, when his life at
one period of the engagement was in imminent peril.
Until 1646 he continued under the guardianship of his father, when, on
the entrance of Fairfax into Oxford, the young duke was found among
the prisoners, and by Cromwell's orders committed to the charge of
Sir George Ratcliffe. A few months later he was removed to St. James's
Palace, when in company with his brother, the Duke of Gloucester, and
his sister, the Princess Elizabeth, he was placed under the care of Lord
Northumberland, who had joined the Republican cause.
Though by no means treated with unkindness, the young duke, unhappy at
the surveillance placed upon his actions and fearful of the troubles
quickly gathering over the kingdom, twice sought escape. This was a
serious offence in the eyes of Cromwell's Parliament; a committee was
accordingly sent to examine him, and he was threatened with imprisonment
in the Tower. Though only in his fourteenth year he already possessed
both determination and courage, by reason of which he resolved to risk
all danger, and make a third effort for freedom. Accordingly he laid his
plans with much ingenuity, selecting two men from those around him to
aid his undertaking. These were George Howard and Colonel Bamfield. The
latter had once served in the king's army, but when the fortunes of war
had gone against his royal master, had professed himself friendly to the
Republicans. No doubt the young duke saw the gallant colonel was still
true at heart to the Royalist cause, and therefore trusted him at this
critical juncture.
Now for a fortnight previous to the night on which he designed to
escape, James made it his habit to play at hide-and-seek every evening
after supper with his brother and sister, and the children of the
officers then located in the palace; and in such secure places did he
secrete himself that his companions frequently searched for over half an
hour without discovering him. This of course accustomed the household to
miss him, and was cunningly practised for the purpose of gaining time on
his pursuers when he came to be sought for in good earnest.
At last the eventful night fixed for his escape arrived; and after
supper a pleasant group of merry children prepared to divert themselves
in the long dark halls and narrow winding passages of the grim old
palace. James, as usual, proposed concealing himself, and leaving his
companions for the purpose, disappeared behind some arras; but, instead
of hiding, he hastened to his sister's chamber, where he locked up a
favourite dog that was in the habit of following his footsteps wherever
he went, and then noiselessly slipped down a back stairs which led to
an inner garden. Having taken care to provide himself with a key fitting
the garden door, he quickly slipped into the park. Here he found Colonel
Bamfield waiting, who, giving him a cloak and a wig for his better
disguise, hurried him into a hackney coach, which drove them as far
as Salisbury House in the Strand. From thence they went through Spring
Garden, and down Ivy Lane, when, taking boat, they landed close by
London Bridge. Here entering the house of a surgeon friendly to
their adventure, they found a woman named Murray awaiting them, who
immediately provided a suit of woman's wearing apparel for the young
duke, in which she helped to attire him. Dressed in this costume he,
attended by the faithful Bamfield, hastened to Lion Quay, where they
entered a barge hired for their conveyance to a Dutch frigate stationed
beyond Gravesend.
Meanwhile, the children not being able to discover their playfellow in
the palace, their elders became suspicious of the duke's escape, and
began to aid the search. Before an hour elapsed they were convinced
he had fled, and St. James's was thrown into a state of the utmost
excitement and confusion. Notice of his flight was at once despatched to
General Fairfax at Whitehall, who immediately gave orders have all the
roads from London guarded, especially those leading to the north; for it
was surmised he would in the first instance seek to escape into Wales.
The duke, however, had taken a safer course, but one which was not
unattended by danger. He had not sailed far in the barge when its master
became suspicious that he was aiding the escape of some persons of
consequence, and became frightened lest he should get into trouble by
rendering them his services. And presently his surmise was converted
into certainty; for looking through a cranny of the barge-room door, he
saw the young woman fling her leg on the table and pull up her stocking
in a most unmaidenly manner. He therefore at once peremptorily declared
to Colonel Bamfield they must land at Gravesend, and procure another
boat to carry them to the ship; for it would be impossible for the
barge to pass the block-house lower down without being observed, and
consequently inspected, as was the custom at this troubled time. On
hearing which Colonel Bamfield was filled with dismay; but, knowing
that at heart the people were loyal towards the Stuarts, he confided
the identity of his passenger, and begged him not to betray them in this
hour of peril. To give his appeal further weight, he promised the fellow
a considerable sum if they safely reached the frigate; for human nature
is weak, and greed of gold is strong. On this, the bargee, who was a
loyal man, promised he would help them to the best of his powers; the
lights were therefore extinguished, the oars drawn in, and, the tide
fortunately answering, the barge glided noiselessly down under cover of
night, and passed the block-house unobserved. In good time they reached
the frigate, which, the duke and Colonel Bamfield boarding, at once set
sail, and in a few days landed them at Middleburgh. James proceeded to
the court of his sister, the Princess of Orange, and later on joined his
mother in France.
At the age of twenty he served in the French army, under Turenne,
against the Spanish forces in Flanders, and subsequently in several
campaigns, where he invariably showed himself so brave and valiant that
the Prince de Conde declared that if ever there was a man without fear,
it was James, Duke of York. Now it happened that in 1658 the Princess of
Orange went to Paris in order to visit the queen mother, as the widow of
Charles I. was called. The Duke of York was in the gay capital at this
time, and it soon became noticed that he fixed his attention overmuch on
one of his sister's maids of honour, Anne Hyde. This gentlewoman, then
in her twenty-first year, was the possessor of a comely countenance,
excellent shape, and much wit. Anne was daughter of Edward Hyde, a
worthy man, who had been bred to the law, and proved himself so faithful
a servant to Charles I., that his majesty had made him Privy Councillor
and Chancellor of the Exchequer. After the king's execution, in 1649,
the chancellor thought it wise for himself and his family to seek refuge
in exile, and accordingly joined Charles II., with whom he lived in the
closest friendship, and for whose return he subsequently negotiated with
General Monk.
Now James, after his fashion, made love to Mistress Hyde, who encouraged
his advances until they reached a certain stage, beyond which the
judicious maiden forbade them to proceed unless blessed by the sanction
of holy church. The Duke, impatient to secure his happiness, was
therefore secretly united to Mistress Hyde in the bonds of matrimony
on the 24th of November, in the year of grace 1659, at Breda, to which
place the Princess of Orange had returned. In a little while, the
restoration being effected, the duke returned to England with the
king, leaving his bride behind. And Chancellor Hyde being presently
re-established in his offices, and settled in his residence at Worcester
House in the Strand, sent for his wife and children; the more speedily
as he had received an overture from a noble family, on behalf of "a
hopeful, well-bred young gentleman," who expressed himself anxious to
wed with Mistress Anne.
The same young lady had not long returned, when she informed her husband
she was about to become a mother; whereon the duke, seeking the king,
fell upon his knees before him, laid bare his secret, and besought him
to sanction his union, "that he might publicly marry in such a manner as
his majesty thought necessary for the consequence thereof;" adding that,
if consent were refused, he would "immediately take leave of the kingdom
and spend his life in foreign parts." King Charles was astonished and
perplexed by this confession. James was heir, and as such it behoved him
to wed with one suited, by reason of her lineage, to support the dignity
of the crown, and calculated by her relation towards foreign powers
to strengthen the influence of the throne. The duke was fully aware
of this, and, moreover, knew he could without much difficulty have
his marriage annulled; but that he did not adopt this course was an
honourable trait in his character; and, indeed, his conduct and that of
the king was most creditable throughout the transactions which
followed; an account of which is set forth with great minuteness in the
"Continuation of Edward Hyde, Lord Clarendon's Life."
Without the advice of his council, the king could give no satisfactory
reply to his brother. He therefore summoned two of his trusty friends,
the Marquis of Ormond and the Earl of Southampton, whom he informed
of the duke's marriage, requesting them to communicate the same to the
chancellor, and return with him for private consultation. The good man's
surprise at this news concerning his daughter was, according to his own
account, exceeding great, and was only equalled by his vast indignation.
His loyalty towards the royal family was so fervent that it overlooked
his affection to his child. He therefore fell into a violent passion,
protested against her wicked presumption, and advised that the king
"should immediately cause the woman to be sent to the Tower, and to be
cast into a dungeon, under so strict a guard that no person should be
admitted to come to her; and then that an act of parliament should be
immediately passed for the cutting off her head, to which he would not
only give his consent, but would very willingly be the first man that
should propose it." All this he presently repeated to the king, and
moreover, assured him an example of the highest severity, in a case so
nearly concerning himself, would serve as a warning that others might
take heed of offences committed against his regal dignity.
News of this marriage spread throughout the court with rapidity, and
caused the utmost excitement; which in a little while was somewhat
abated by the announcement that the king's youngest brother, Henry, Duke
of Gloucester, was taken ill of small-pox. This young prince, who is
described as "a pretty boy," possessed parts which bade fair to
surpass his brothers. He was indeed associated by his family with their
tenderest memories, inasmuch as he had been with his father on the sad
day previous to his execution. On that melancholy occasion, Charles I.
had taken him upon his knee, and said to him very tenderly, "Sweetheart,
they will cut off thy father's head," at which the boy shuddered and
turned pale. "Mark, child, what I say," continued the unhappy king,
"they will cut off my head, and, perhaps, make thee a king; but mark
what I say, you must not be made king as long as your brothers Charles
and James are alive, for they will cut off thy brothers' heads when they
catch them, and cut off thy head at last; and therefore I charge you not
to be made a king by them." To which the lad replied very earnestly, "I
will be torn in pieces first." Sometime after the death of his father he
was allowed to join his family in France, and, like his brother James,
entered the army of that country. On the restoration, he had
returned with the king, and, three months later, this "prince of
very extraordinary hopes" died, grievously lamented by the court, and
especially by his majesty, who declared he felt this loss more than any
other which had previously fallen upon him.
Scarcely had he been laid to rest in the vault containing the dust
of Mary Queen of Scots and Lady Arabella Stuart, when the Princess of
Orange arrived in England to pay the king a visit of ceremony. No sooner
was she settled at court, than rumour of her brother's marriage reached
her; on which she became outrageous; but her wrath was far exceeded by
that of the queen mother, who, on hearing the news, wrote to the duke
expressing her indignation "that he should have such low thoughts as to
marry such a woman." The epistle containing this sentence was at once
shown by James to his wife, whom he continually saw and spent much time
with, unknown to her father, who had given orders she should keep her
chamber. Parliament now sat, but no mention was made of the duke's
marriage by either House; and, inasmuch as the union so nearly concerned
the nation, this silence caused considerable surprise. It was surmised
the delay was made in deference to the feelings of the queen mother, who
at this juncture set out for England, to prevent what she was pleased
to term "so great a stain and dishonour to the crown." The king regarded
his brother's alliance in a lenient spirit, and not only spoke of it
frequently before the court, but expressed his desire of bringing the
indiscretion to a happy conclusion by a public acknowledgment.
The queen mother, being an ambitious woman, had cherished certain
schemes for extending the power of her family by the respective
marriages of her sons, which the duke's union was, of course, calculated
to curtail. She therefore regarded his wife with the bitterest disdain.
Whenever that woman should be brought into Whitehall by one door, her
majesty declared she would leave it by another and never enter it
again. The marriage was rendered all the more disagreeable to the
queen, because the object of her son's choice was daughter of the lord
chancellor, whose influence over Charles II. had frequently opposed her
plans in the past, and threatened to prevent their realization in the
future. The monarch, however, paid little attention to his mother's
indignation. He was resolved no disgrace which he could hinder should
fall upon the family of one who had served him with disinterested
loyalty; and, by way of proving his friendship towards the chancellor on
the present occasion, he, before setting out to meet his mother on her
arrival at Dover, presented him with twenty thousand pounds, and left
a signed warrant for creating him a baron, which he desired the
attorney-general to have ready to pass the seals at his return.
In the meantime a wicked plot, for the purpose of lessening James's
affection for his wife, and ultimately preventing the acknowledgment of
his marriage, was promoted by the chancellor's enemies and the duke's
friends, principal amongst whom were the Princess of Orange and Sir
Charles Berkley, "a fellow of great wickedness," Sir Charles was his
royal highness's most trusted friend, and was, moreover, devoted to
the service of the princess and her mother. He therefore determined to
hinder the duke from taking a step which he was of opinion would
injure him irretrievably. Accordingly, when James spoke in confidence
concerning his marriage, Sir Charles told him it was wholly invalid,
inasmuch as it had taken place without the king's consent; and that a
union with the daughter of an insignificant lawyer was not to be thought
of by the heir to the crown. Moreover, he hinted he could a tale unfold
regarding her behaviour. At this the duke became impatient to hear what
his good friend had to say; whereon that valiant gentleman boasted, with
an air of bravery and truth, of certain gallantries which had passed
between him and the lady. On hearing this, James, being credulous was
sorely depressed. He ceased to visit his wife, withdrew from general
company; and so well did Sir Charles's scheme succeed, that before the
queen's arrival, the duke had decided on denying his marriage with one
who had brought him dishonour. The king, however, put no faith in these
aspersions; he felt sure "there was a wicked conspiracy set on foot by
villains."
It therefore happened the queen was spared the trouble she had
anticipated with her son; indeed, he humbly begged her pardon for
"having placed his affections so unequally, of which he was sure there
was now an end"--a confession most gratifying to her majesty. The duke's
bitter depression continued, and was soon increased by the death of his
sister, the Princess of Orange, which was occasioned by smallpox on the
23rd of December, 1660. In her last agonies Lord Clarendon says "she
expressed a dislike of the proceedings in that affair, to which she had
contributed too much." This fact, together with his royal highness's
unhappiness, had due weight on Sir Charles Berkley, who began to repent
of the calumnies he had spoken. Accordingly, the "lewd informer" went
to the duke, and sought to repair the evil he had wrought. Believing, he
said, such a marriage would be the absolute ruin of his royal highness,
he had made the accusation which he now confessed to be false, and
without the least ground; for he was very confident of the lady's honour
and virtue. He then begged pardon on his knees for a fault committed
out of pure devotion, and trusted the duke would "not suffer him to be
ruined by the power of those whom he had so unworthily provoked, and
of which he had so much shame that he had not confidence to look upon
them."
James was so much relieved by what he heard that he not only forgave
Sir Charles, but embraced him, and promised him protection. Nor did his
royal highness longer withhold the reparation due to his wife, who, with
the approval of the king and the reluctant consent of the queen, was
received at court as Duchess of York. Such was the romance connected
with the marriage of her who became mother of two English queens--Mary,
wife of William of Orange, and Anne, of pious memory.