-SIDE LIGHTS
. ON ;:
ENGLISH HISTORY

:E.E: HENDERSON

BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME
OF THE
PERKINS FUND
1902.

MAKY CyJEEN OF SCOTS.
( Engraved by Goltz at the time of her execution.)

SIDE LIGHTS

ON

ENGLISH HISTORY

BEING EXTRACTS FROM
LETTERS, PAPERS, AND DIARIES OF THE PAST THREE CENTURIES

COLLECTED AND ARRANGED BY

ERNEST F. HENDERSON, Ph.D.
Author of '¦'¦History of Germany in the Middle Ages." Editor of
'¦'¦Select Historical Documents."

NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1900

COPYRIGHT, I90O,
BY
ERNEST F. HENDERSON.

K 1 ly 0^6

Eo Jig Sister,
M. \Y. H.,
WHO FIRST RECOMMEXDED TO ME THE STUDY
OF HISTORY,
THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY
©eotcateo.

PREFACE

ALL hail to the new spirit that is permeating the methods of teaching and
studying of history, in New England especially, but also as far as the
influence of the thousand-membered American Historical Society extends. It
is the veritable spirit of the Renaissance ; the spirit that made those fifteenth
century scholars hunt for manuscripts, and that caused Luther to found his theo
logical teachings on the actual text of the Bible. Here was a cloud of witnesses
capable of relating their own experiences as men to men and needing no veil of
priestly mystery.
To those who have followed the movement the rapid increase of so-called
source-books of history forms a very interesting phenomenon. We have them
for American, English and general mediaeval history, we are promised them for

In the original (see opposite page), following out the motto " I am outwardly painted and inwardly accursed,
the skirt lifts up and displays these skeleton legs, the coffin, serpent and temptation.

vi Preface
the history of Greece and Rome. There is scarcely a publisher of repute who
is not announcing something of the kind ; several universities are publishing
periodical leaflets. Historical associations devote whole sessions to the question
of rendering available such material. Teachers have found that this first-hand
evidence rouses the interest of their students and dignifies their pursuit. It
becomes to them what the flowers are to the botanist or the actual cases and
decisions to the young lawyer. The movement is spreading even beyond the
guild. The painter Verestchagin lays aside his brush to piece together the nar
ratives of survivors of Napoleon's Russian campaign and gives a product of
realism as fine as anything he has done on canvas.
In the time devoted to the learning of a given number of pages in some
condensed history it is now recognized that one can read a different kind of
matter more widely and gain better results. Many facts become clear of them
selves. Who, for instance, can doubt Pitt's attitude towards the American war
who has once heard him say in parliament, "You may traffic and barter with
every little pitiful German prince that sends his subjects to the shambles . . .
your efforts are forever vain and impotent. ... If I were an American as I am
an Englishman, I never would lay down my arms — never — never — never"?
Such illustrative material makes the cardinal facts stand out as though printed in
letters of flaming fire. And the student is led on almost unconsciously to an
appreciation and criticism of authorities, to the proper use of libraries, to the
assimilation and combination of data, to orderly and thorough thinking. Above
all, the personalities become real and definite.
By such writings we are initiated as by no other possible means into the
spirit of the time. I ask you to witness the execution of the Queen of Scots
through the eyes of the person who was appointed to tell Lord Burleigh all
about it ; to follow the parliaments of Charles I. and of Cromwell at the hand of
men who served in them. Often the chief actors are our chief informants.
These are voices that speak to us directly ; the rest is merely commentary.
In a work like this present collection it is of course not expected of me to be
thorough, or in any way to explain causes and results. My aim is to give color,
and, above all, life. If I can make these people seem as real to others as they
do to myself I shall have achieved something worth the effort. It is to this
personal element in history that I have largely confineci myself. Every great
event is equally susceptible of this kind of illustration, only it would take very
many volumes to accomplish the task. It is enough for the present to have
lifted the mask from the kings and queens and from such pi-ominent personages
as the Pretenders, the Marlboroughs, the Electress of Hanover, the wife of
George I. Naturally my work is elementary : I can only give specimens from a
large body of literatuie full of its own interest to those who have time to devote
to it.

Preface

vn

A word as to the way in which this book may be made most useful to the
student : I should suggest that he be given a topic corresponding to the heading of
one of my thirty-two groups and be asked to make an abstract of its salient points
from his text-book. After he has done this, and added some supplementary read
ing, I should consider him to have reached a frame of mind most suitable for
approaching the sources. These are less concentrated and, I hope, more lively
and entertaining than the majority of the narratives. Many dim facts will stand
out more clearly after their perusal. All acquisitions to the knowledge already
gained from the modern authorities should be carefully noted in writing. Riper
scholars can subject them to a fire of criticism, comparing them with statements
of other contemporary authorities.
It may not.be out of place here to summarize the results likely to be obtained
from the perusal of one or two of the groups. Space forbids our continuing the
analysis through all the topics, but the table of contents will be sufficiently
extended to remedy the deficiency.
In Group I. we start out with the personality of Queen Elizabeth, and are
fortunate enough to have an account of her at the time of her accession in 1558,
when she was already full blown as to her externals, and " for her internals,
grown ripe and seasoned with adversity." We next find her addressing the
Parliament on the all-important subject of her marriage, and shaking at them a
finger on which gleams the ring with which she has solemnly espoused herself to
the kingdom. When she dies she wishes to have engraved on her tomb, " Here
lies Elizabeth, who liv'd and died a maiden Queen." There follow a series of
extremely interesting letters sent by his different ambassadors in London, Feria,
Aquila and Quadra to Philip II. at Madrid, and only recently published from the
rich archives of Simancas. How much cunning and perseverance was wasted
by these intriguing priests ! — at first to get a footing in the palace at all, and then
to tempt her to make such a match as will suit Spain's interest, perhaps Philip
himself, — but the King is not to commit himself. "If she inclines to your
Majesty," writes Feria, " it will be necessary for you to send me orders whether
I am to carry it any further or throw cold water on it and set up the Archduke
Ferdinand." In the case of one envoy after another hope gives place to
despondency and the post is given up ; there are laments that this queen is very
different from " Her majesty now in Heaven," and a final cry of rage from
Feria that this country " has fallen into the hands of a woman who is a daughter
of the devil." These correspondents have much to say about Robert Dudley,
later Earl of Leicester, and his extreme intimacy with the Queen. " The
Queen told me that Robert's wife was dead, or nearly so," writes Quadra, " and
asked me to say nothing about it. Certainly this business is most shameful and
scandalous;" and again, " Since writing the above I hear the Queen has pub
lished the death of Robert's wife," and said, in Italian, " She broke her neck.

viii Preface
She must have fallen down a staircase." Philip writes to Quadra to take
advantage of Elizabeth's love for Robert, but to trust to nothing that she does
not give him in black and white. In a strange interview with the loving pair
Quadra promises them his master's support, but at the price of the overthrow of
the ministers in power. Nothing comes of the matter, but Leicester remains in
the highest favor at court and accompanies the Queen in her different progresses.
We see her at Cambridge and Oxford, turning the heads of all the doctors and
making Latin speeches to them with such grace and modesty that the "wildest
cheers" and blessings were bestowed upon her. "The walls, and even the
windows and benches," writes one of them, " seemed to resound deafeningly
with the voices of our men." The group ends with the letter of a French
envoy, Chateauneuf, to his King, written in 1586, and giving an account both of
the Queen's accomplishments and her shortcomings. The Earl of Leicester is
still in high favor, indeed "the first man in England after the said lady;" but,
alas for that early lover's romance, he is now fifty-three or four years old and has
"grown very rotund."
In Group II. we at once come into a more sombre atmosphere, and find
Elizabeth signing the death warrant of Mary Queen of Scots and maintaining
stoutly in her letters to Mary's son, James of Scotland, that she cannot " keep
the serpent that poisons her," or make herself " a goodly prey for every wretch
to devour." Old Melville, she says, "hath years enough to teach him more
wisdom than tell a prince of any judgment such a contrarious, frivolous, maimed
reason." Then we enter Fotheringay castle at the hand of Mary's body phy
sician, Bourgoing, and learn of the first intimation to her that she must die
shortly. She was in bed when the emissaries appeared, but sent word that if it
was an urgent matter she would rise and dress. So seated in a chair at the foot
of her bed she waited the knell of doom, and, guilty or innocent, made a most
calm and heroic rejoinder to the formal announcement. A letter of hers, in which
she tells of hearing them hammer away at her scaffold, was discovered too late
to be inserted in this collection. She arranges her affairs, and at dead of night
sits down and writes (No. 4) to her brother-in-law, Henry III. of France,
asking his good offices for her servitors. " As for my son, I recommend him to
you according to his merits, for I can not answer for him." By command of
Lord Burleigh, Robert Wingfield, or Wynkfield, who is present, writes with the
utmost detail of everything that happened in Mary's last hour ; with uncompro
mising realism he depicts her as fat, round-shouldered, broadfaced, double-
chinned and with false auburn hair. But he then goes on to faithfully describe
one of the most touching and dignified death scenes that has ever been chronicled
in the whole history of man. As she walks to the scaffold her faithful Melville
throws himself on his knees and asks what his countrymen will say when he
brings them this fatal news. " Carry this message from me," she said, " that I

Preface ix
died a true woman to my religion and like a true woman of Scotland and
France." The details of the actual execution are gruesome enough — her lips
" stirred up and down almost a quarter of an hour after her head was cut off ! "
This is almost on a par with the death of the Earl of Argyle in 1685, whose
headless body, " by the great commotion and agitation of the animal and vital
spirits," rose up and had to be pulled down by the attendants (see p. 164). The
letter of Elizabeth to James, disavowing her share in the execution, seems to
have been designed for the public eye — it is not in keeping with those that went
before. The messenger who bore it is afraid to risk being murdered by the
incensed Scotch; but James accepts the explanation of yon unhappy fact, or
will accept it if it be made worth his while. Nevertheless a coolness ensues
which is ended by Elizabeth (!) declaring that she " is willing to drink most
willingly a large draught of the river of Lethe." Wilson maintains (No. 10)
that James's own emissary had persuaded Elizabeth to sign the death warrant,
declaring that " Mortua non mordet " (when she is dead she cannot bite).
In Group III. we are introduced to Admiral Howard and Sir Francis Drake
at the moment of the first reliable intimation of the sailing of the Spanish
Armada in 1588. The whereabouts and strength of that fleet give rise to the
wildest reports. Drake himself writes to the Queen that between four and five
hundred ships are known to be approaching. He wishes to meet them off their
own coasts, but is overruled, and doubtless bears his disappointment bravely,
for Howard writes to Secretary Walsingham, " Sir, I must not omit to let you
know how lovingly and kindly Sir Francis Drake bears himself." So the ships
remain in the channel, and are forced to ride out some terrific gales, during
which, however, to quote Howard, " we may compare that we have danced as
lustily as the gallantest dancers at Court." In order that the Spaniards may not
slip by unobserved and land their forces on the English shore the fleet is divided
into three parts, within signalling distance of each other. When they do appear,
one hundred and twenty sail in all, Howard manages to get to windward of them
and do them considerable damage. They have been forced so far to leeward,
writes Drake, " as I hope in God, the Prince of Parma and the Duke of Sidonia
shall not shake hands this few days." Three other engagements take place, in
the last of which the Admiral, about twelve of the clock at night, sent six small
ships with intrepid crews which set fire to and then abandoned them in the midst
of the enemy's great hulks. The Spaniards cut their anchors and fled precipi
tately, but one great galleass went ashore off Calais. The taking of this is most
graphically described in a letter of a Richard Tomson to Secretary Walsyngham
(No. 6). The Spanish fleet suffers terribly from storms on the coasts of Ireland,
and the Governor of Connaught writes to the Queen of the extent of the damage
within his province and the" ruthless butchery of those unfortunates who swim
ashore.

x Preface
In Group IV. we follow Queen Elizabeth through her declining days.
Bishop Goodman tells how in this same year of the Spanish defeat, when he him
self was a young boy residing " at the upper end of the strand," Elizabeth came
after dark to the Church of St. Clement, and how graciously she addressed the
people. By this time, alas, she was growing wrinkled and had a goggle throat
— a great gullet hanging out. Goodman mentions a report that " the ladies had
gotten false looking-glasses, that the Queen might not see her own wrinkles."
She is still very coy with her courtiers, and Cary, Earl of Monmouth (No. 2),
has much ado in making her forgive him for having committed the crime of
matrimony. In 1598, Paul Hentzer, a cultivated German on his travels, is
admitted to kiss her hand and describes the genuflections and general oriental
ceremonial at her court, going on then in a highly entertaining way to dilate on
the general peculiarities of the Englishman of that day. While he is with the
Queen, W. Slavata, a Bohemian nobleman, is brought in and presented, the same
who twenty years later took his phenomenal flight from the window of the
Prague Castle and started the Thirty Years' War. In the next selection, again
from Goodman, we find the aged monarch merrily entertaining Duke Prussiano,
a "courteous and brave nobleman"; and the bishop goes on to relate how
" then did the Queen dance a galliard very comely, and like herself, to show the
vigour of her old age." But soon after the clouds begin to descend on all sides.
The beloved Essex heads a conspiracy and is imprisoned ; Thomas Lea, between
nine and ten at night, waits in the Queen's antechamber meaning to seize her
person and make her sign a warrant for the Earl's release. " He only meant to
vex her for half an hour, that she might live the merrier all her life after," but
both he and Essex lose their heads. All this preys on the poor old lady's mind,
and everything seems to portend her ruin. The ring of espousal to the kingdom
has grown into the flesh and has to be cut in two ; she cannot fail to see that the
eyes of all are turning to the rising sun ; day after day she sits in deep melan
choly, afraid to go to bed lest she should never rise again. At last after a reign
of forty-four years she "enjoys a blessed remove from this world to a better,"
and her 2,000 gowns, worth at peddler's prices £100,000, are taken to Holland
and sold. Her successor, not altogether unnaturally, abhors her memory, but to
the people she is always good Queen Bess.
E. F. HENDERSON.
Redwood Cottage, Dublin, N. H.,
May 4, 1900.

Table of Contents

Page
Group I. The Personality of Queen Elizabeth . . . 1-9
Her appearance and comportment at the time of her accession —
reasons for remaining single— espousal of the kingdom — reversal
of the policy of Bloody Mary— intrigues of the Spanish ambas
sador — his interest in her marriage — his despair — the love affair
with Robert Dudley — mysterious death of Robert's wife — Philip
II. 's favor courted — a scene on shipboard — a visit to Cambridge
— brilliant reception — a visit to Oxford — the splendid procession
— the Queen' s raiment — her blushing speech — the deafening ap
plause — the sad departure — further characteristics of the Queen
— the sequel of the Leicester romance.
Group II. The Execution of Mary Queen of Scots . . 9-18
Elizabeth induced to sign her death warrant — the necessity of
doing so explained to James VI. — the announcement to Mary —
her firmness — her reply — her protestations of innocence — loyalty
to her religion — affecting letter to her brother-in-law — description
of her person and attire — her march to the scaffold — farewell to
Melville — message to Scotland — her calmness and cheerfulness —
details of her last moments — disavowal on the part of Elizabeth
— correspondence with James — her willingness to forget —
James's attitude.

1S-25

Group III. The Spanish Armada ......
First news of the great fleet — Spaniards flying English flags —
exaggerated reports — Drake, Hawkins and Frobisher anxious to
sally forth — storm — lusty dancing — division of English fleet into
three parts — dread of sickness — working to windward — first fight
ing — requests for powder and shot — chasing the Spaniards — the
taking of the great galleass — the despatch of the fire-ships — the
flight of the Armada — the pursuit — pestilential sickness — destruc
tion of Spanish ships — massacre of survivors.
Group IV. The End of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth . 26-33
A glimpse of the Queen — her graciousness — her goggle throat —
wrinkles — the looking-glass story — displeasure at a courtier for
marrying — his pardon — arrival of a traveler — his reception — his
description of the Queen — elaborate ceremonial — W. Slavata — a
visit to Windsor — the order of the Garter — shrewd criticism of
the English— the Queen's reception of Duke Prussiano — she
dances at seventy — the treason of Essex — attempt to seize the
Queen' s person — the confession of Essex — declining health — mel
ancholy state — aversion to physic — resolution -not to take to her
bed — death — her 2,000 gowns.

xii Table of Contents Page
Group V. Characteristic Traits of James I. 33~42
Fondness for the chase — a French envoy — the question of mourn
ing — Sully's retinue change their apparel — a royal dinner — Eliza
beth's memory slighted — James's appearance — disgusting habits
— his favorites — the Queen — his wit — his diatribe against tobacco
— foolish arguments — exorbitant duty placed on tobacco — medita
tions on the Lord's Prayer — diatribe against all who do not
believe in witchcraft — approves of putting witches to death —
wives and children to be heard as witnesses — law against sorcery
— an interview with a subject — a scurvy jest about witches —
James's remarks on his mother's bloody head — on tobacco —
Anne of Denmark's funeral — James more like a wooer than a
mourner — bathes his legs in stags' bellies — peppers the Puritans.
Group VI. The Gunpowder Plot ...... 43~47
The letter to Lord Mounteagle — its contents studied — the King's
solution — a search ordered — the apprehension of Guy Fawkes —
discovery of the powder — the rack — the confession — account of
the mine — intention of proclaiming the Lady Elizabeth queen.
Group VII. The Marriage of the Princess Elizabeth to
the Count Palatine ....... 47~54
Arrival of the Palsgrave — favorable impression — illness of the
heir apparent — festivities in the Palsgrave's honor — the prince's
illness grows alarming — had never shed his teeth — application of
warm birds — Sir Walter Raleigh sends him a cordial — his death
— the wedding postponed — finally celebrated — magnificent dis
plays — masques- — Lord Bacon's show — entreats the King not to
"bury them quick " — the show deferred — finally takes place — a
slanderer punished.
Group VIII. The Spanish Marriage Project . . . 55~6o
Prince Charles's Journey to Spain — his progress — Jack and Tom
— the jewels — Charles's arrival — running at the ring — prisoners
freed — a sight of the infanta — her dowry — her stiffness at inter
views — doubts and delays — the Prince's return — the end of a
delusion.
Group IX. Charles I. and Henrietta Maria of France . 61-66
Encomiums on the princess — the marriage — from London Bridge
to Whitehall — the twenty-nine priests — Charles no convert — a
queen's frown — priestly insolence — Charles's heroic interference
— the Queen breaks glass windows — dismissal of the French reti
nue — the last of a rapacious horde — the reality vs. Van Dyck's
portraits.
Group X. Parliamentary Grievances Against Charles I. . 67-84
Dissolution of Parliament of 1625 — bitter feelings — Parliament of
1626 — recriminations — commitment of members — dissolution 
general dejection — shifts to raise money — hatred of Buckingham
— parliament of 1628 — stanch upholding of liberties — passion
ate remonstrances — clamors against the Duke of Buckingham 

Table of Contents xiii Page
murder of the Duke of Buckingham — arbitrary taxation — ship
money — miseries of Ireland — trial of Strafford — his magnificent
defense — his desertion by the King — the Five Members — their
flight — their triumphant return — the eve of the Civil War.
Group XI. Trial and Execution of Charles I. . . . 85-92
Disagreement of Lords and Commons — the high court of justice
— the charge — the hearing — the King's attitude — the sentence —
indignities — the last hours — majestic deportment — the scene on
the scaffold — the death — Milton's cynicism — general horror and
grief — the fate of the hangman.
Group XII. Characteristic Traits of Oliver Cromwell . 92-103
His plain apparel — stature — countenance — voice — conference —
pillow-fight — violent dissolution of the Long Parliament — -the
Instrument of Government — a speech to Parliament — Parliament
refractory — summary coercion — a purification — Cromwell vs.
Ludlow — objection to the celebration of Christmas Day — illness
of Cromwell — his death — his funeral.
Group XIII. Specimens of Parliamentary Proceedings
under the Commonwealth ...... 104-115
Discussions on vagrancy, high-living, etc. — Cromwell's assent —
the case of James Nayler, a Quaker — horrid blasphemy — sug
gested punishments — the sentence — Cromwell's letter — agitated
debates — question of jurisdiction— the matter dropped — the title
of king — a Sabbath bill — a bill against profane and idle sitting.
Group XIV. The Return and Coronation of Charles II. . 11 5-1 24
Harbingers of the Restoration — General Monk — dissolution of
the Rump Parliament — Parliament and the King — the King's
declaration — his poverty — joyous anticipation — Pepys and Charles
on shipboard— the King's account of his adventures — the land
ing — entry into London — civic festivities — the fate of the Regicides
— the glories of Coronation Day — general rejoicings.
Group XV. The Plague of London  124-131
Beginnings of the plague — gradual increase — a stricken maid —
sad sights — the question of periwigs — frightful mortality — a
private letter — the crisis passed — the reawakening of London —
comical incidents.
Group XVI. The Fire of London  i3I_I42
First observed— Pepys' s activity— Pepys and the King— pulling
down houses — removal of goods — enormous extent of the flames
— Evelyn's experiences — eloquent description of the scene —
Pepys buries his treasures — curious sights — the ruins of St. Paul's
— a walk through the city.

xiv Table of Contents Page
Group XVII. The Court of Charles II  I42_I57
Revels and license at court — the arrival of the Queen — her ugly
ladies — the Queen and Lady Castlemaine — general discontent —
levity of courtiers — the pursuit of pleasure during the plague and
fire — the court lies abed — new fashions of dress — cruel amuse
ments — shutting up the Exchequer — a fire-eater — The Duke of
York's apostasy — gay toilets — a jockey dinner — Miss Jennings —
a raid on Prince Rupert's laboratory — squabbling ladies — Prince
George of Denmark — Charles's death-bed — a priest in disguise —
death and funeral — characteristics of Charles — death of Pepys.
Group XVIII. Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth . . 158-170
Early relations of Monmouth and James II. — the bill for exclud
ing James — Monmouth's share in the Rye House Plot — his letter
of submission — his equivocal conduct — his banishment — the
change of ruler — proclamation of James II. — his protestations
regarding religion — the coronation — Argyle in Scotland — his
weak conduct — his executior — gruesome details — Monmouth's
landing — a fugitive mayor — Monmouth's declaration — a haughty
answer from Albemarle — the course of hostilities — Monmouth's
capture — his prayers for mercy — horrible execution.
Group XIX. The Arbitrary Rule of James II. . . . 170-180
Description of the King by a partisan — James's Memoirs — pious
observances — contrast to Charles II. — the standing army — the
repeal of the test acts — the King's treatment of his parliament —
insolence of Popish party — severity towards the rebels — Kirk's
cruelties — Jeffries on the western circuit — his characteristics — the
case of Mr. Tutchin — a righteous retribution — increase of Papists
— the arrest of the seven bishops — birth of the Prince of Wales
— trial of the seven bishops — dread of invasion.
Group XX. The Coming of William and Mary . . . 181-192
Confidence of the Dutch in William — alarm of the King and
court — apathy of the common people — the sailing of the Prince's
fleet — Bishop Burnet — the storm — the return — the landing — the
Prince at Exeter — the King loses heart — the garrison of York —
treatment of Reresby — Prince George and Princess Anne aban
don James — Lord Dartmouth's urgent advice — disturbances in
London — Lord Dartmouth's consternation — the King's flight —
his attempt at self-justification — declared to have abdicated — the
Prince and Princess declared sovereigns — the oaths of allegiance
— the Queen's unseemly levity — Bishop Burnet's palliation of it.
Group XXI. The Stuarts in Exile ..... 192-205
French versions of the events of the Revolution — arrival of the
Queen — her reception by Louis XIV. — distinguished honors —
rich gifts — arrival of James II. — the French King's bounties —
Questions of etiquette — the Queen's popularity — questions of
precedence — the King resigned to his fate — thanks God for his
chastenings — his departure for Ireland — generosity of Louis XIV.
— the battle on the Boyne — Mat Prior and " old James " — death

Table of Contents xv

of James II. — recognition of his son by Louis XIV. — the old
Pretender solicits Queen Anne — an ardent Jacobite — the Pre
tender's farewell to France — a Quaker's generosity — amusing
experiences of an English traveler — the young Pretender1 s hand
kissed — shall the young Pretender come to Boston ?
Group XXII. Characteristic Traits of William and Mary 205-214
Youth and education of William— Monsieur Bentinck — marriage
of William and Mary — Bishop Burnet's description of their
characters — the question of William's future position in Eng
land — William's ill health and gravity of disposition — prejudices
against him — the Queen's illness — her death — grief of William —
the treaty of Ryswick — William's illness and death.
Editorial. The Spanish Succession War .... 214-217
Group XXIII. Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs . . 217-227
Peculiar ways of the Duchess of Marlborough — affectionate let
ters to her from " Mrs. Morley" — rejoicings at the battle of Blen
heim — Bishop Burnet's wife in praise of Marlborough — Marl
borough made a prince of the Empire — Marlborough's alarm at
the influences brought to bear on the Queen — the Queen's affec
tion for the Marlboroughs — discordant notes — letter of the Duch
ess against Mrs. Masham — a stormy interview with the Queen —
the enemies of Marlborough — Swift's attitude — Prince Eugene
in London — measures against Marlborough — mob insults — the
Marlboroughs leave England — ill-natured sketch of the Queen
by the Duchess — letter of the Duchess thirty years later.
Group XXIV. The Hanoverian Succession .... 228-237
Arrangements for the ill-fated marriage of George I. — a merce
nary spirit at the court of Osnabruck — the acquisition of Hanover
— amusing description of the palace — proceedings in the English
Parliament regarding the Succession — the death of the Duke of
Gloucester — sentiments of the Hanoverian court — a prophecy as
to the steps that Parliament will take — the prophecy comes true
— shall a member of the House of Hanover take up his abode in
England? — Leibnitz in favor of insisting — false alarms as to the
Queen's death — sharp letter of Queen Anne to the Elector George
— the Electress's vexation — her death.
Group XXV. George I. and the Princess of Ahlden . . 237-244
Marriage of George and Sophia Dorothea — Konigsmark — ill-
treatment of Sophia Dorothea — the Countess Platen — rscene in
the Opera House — disappearance of Konigsmark — proceedings
for divorce — a hearing before the ministers — the Princess in cap
tivity — last hours of Queen Anne — -George I. proclaimed King —
his petty character — influence of the Duchess of Kendall — sub
serviency of the ministers — George I. and the English — Horace
Walpole's account of the finding of Konigsmark' s body —
George II. and his mother.

xvi Table of Contents

n bathing.

page-

Group XXVI. King George II. and Queen Caroline . . 244-253.
The coronation — borrowed finery — the Queen's influence over
her husband — her patient endurance of him — Robert Walpole
and the Queen — George's absence in Hanover — his English an
tipathies — discontent of the people — pasquinades — the quarrel
with Prince Frederick — strong language of the Queen — illness of
the Queen — medical methods — the King's anxiety — petty out
bursts — the Queen's death — the King's real grief — characteristics
of Caroline — characteristics of George — his peculiar habits.
Editorial. The Seven Years' War ..... 253~255
Group XXVII. The Accession of George III. . . . 255-265
George III. as a youth — his indolence — his gloomy disposition —
character of Lord Bute — his influence over the princess dowager
— his rise into power — character of Pitt — his eloquence — his
popularity — his general influence — change of policy at George's
accession — Pitt and Bute — project of marriage — Lady Sarah
Lennox — the Princess of Mecklenburg — tu vas etre Reine
d' Angleterre — the wedding service — the landing in England —
Spanish insolence — the quarrel with Pitt — Pitt's resignation —
popular clamor — Bute's relinquishment of conquests — a scathing
satire.
Group XXVIII. William Pitt and the American War of
Independence ....... . 266-2721
Denunciation of the tea-tax — praise of Americans — defense of
property rights — the spirit of Whiggism — exhortation to repeal
the tax — to stop the war — a speech from the throne — England's
ignominious position — you can not conquer America — disgrace
ful happenings — Bourgoyne's surrender — the Hessian soldiers —
the employment of Indians — hell-hounds of savage war — the
last speech — affecting eloquence — the death stroke.
Group XXIX. George III. and his Heir Apparent . . 272-283
George IV.' suntruthfulness — his extravagances and debauch
eries — his debts — his club life — the King's illness — his disordered
mind — the rising sun — severe medical treatment — the struggle for
authority — heartless conduct — the King is shaved — Dr. Willis —
Pitt — the King's symptoms — the question of regency — partisan
physicians — the Duchess of Gordon — an adventure with a maniac
— signs of betterment — Miss Burney frightened — the Regency
Bill put off — the King rapidly recovers— regency caps — acrimony
of parties — the ball at Brookes' s — the King's experiences while

Group XXX. The Death of Nelson ..... 2S4-290
False news about the French fleet — Nelson' s impatience at Merton
— Nelson himself again — his care for the new signal-code — the
Nelson touch — news of the victory — experiences on board the
Victory — England expects every man will do his duty — details of
.the conflict — at close quarters — Nelson's wound — in the cock-pit

Table of Contents xvii Page
— affecting interview with Hardy — death in the arms of victory
— the first wording of the signal.
Group XXXI. The Battle of Waterloo .... 291-297
Wellington's exultation — Blucher to his wife — embraces Welling
ton — Blucher' s account of Napoleon' s escape — details of the battle
by an officer of the guards — Wellington the genius of the storm —
his dress — the last onslaught — a pleasant interlude with the Prus
sians — a young officer' s experiences — Gneisenau's point of view
— Napoleon's diamonds — the greatness of the victory — heavy
losses — the question of executing Napoleon — decided by Wel
lington — Gneisenau' s disappointment.
Group XXXII. An American Minister at the Court of
London .......... 297-300
The charming old Queen — the glories of the plumes and crino
lines — British beauty — an evening with the royal family — strange
appeal to trial by combat in an English nineteenth century court
of law.

List of Illustrations

To Face Page
Prince Albert. Engraved from the painting by Partridge . . 300
Anne of Denmark, wife of James I. Engraved by Houbraken . 35
An Ally of Queen Anne. Engraved by Schenck .... 219
Queen Anne. Engraved by J. Smith  226
Augustus the Strong of Saxony. Engraved by R. White in 1697 217
Blucher. Engraved in 1815 . . . . . . . . 293
Heads of Blucher and Wellington. From Booth's Battle of
Waterloo ........... 291
George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. Anon. From Van der
Werft's painting .... .... 73
Rebus on Bute. Contemporary ... ... 26^
Queen Caroline;. Contemporarv ....... 246
Catherine of Braganza, wife of Charles II. Engraved by
Melaer ............ 143
Charles I. Engraved by Beckett from a painting by Van Dyck . 61
Charles I., with Charles II. Anon. From Van Dyck's painting 64
The Children of Charles I. Modern engraving of Van Dyck's
painting ........... S7
Charles II. Engraved by Brown in 1678 from Sir Peter Lely's painting 120
Charles II. of Spain . . . . . . . . . 214
Charles III. of Spain (afterwards Emperor Charles VI.). Engraved
by Weigel . . . . . . . . . . . 216
The Emperor Charles VII. Engraved by Pfeffel .... 249
Charles XII. of Sweden. Engraved by Schenck . . . 220
Queen Charlotte. Engraved by the Ryders in 1804 from the paint
ing by Beechey .......... 277
Oliver Cromwell. Engraved by Mazot (double page) ... 92
Oliver Cromwell. Probably by Schurtz ..... 104
The Empress Elizabeth of Russia. Engraved by Stenglin . '. 254
Queen Elizabeth. Engraved by Greatbach from an original painting 1
Elizabeth of Bohemia. Engraved by Delph from a painting of
Miereveld's in 1623 ........
Prince Eugene. Engraved by Vogel .....
The Emperor Francis I. Engraved by Ph. A. Kilian
Frederick the First, King of Prussia. Engraved by Weigel
Frederick the Great. Engraved by Schleuen
Frederick the Great and Peter III. making peace .
Frederick, Count Palatine. Engraved by Delph from a painting of
Miereveld's in 1622 ........ 48

51
224
253213253256

XX

List of Illustrations

George I.
George II.
George II.
George III.
George III.
Beechey
George IV.
Gneisenau.

Engraved in 17 14
Anon. .........
Engraved by Pfeffel ......
as Prince of Wales. Engraved by McArdell
Engraved by Benj. Smith in 1804 from the painting by

To Face Page 242

Anon. ......
Engraved by Carl Mayer
Henrietta Maria. Engraved by Schurtz in 1629
James I. Print of 1604 A. D. .
King James and his Family. Later working over of original by
Crispin de Passe .........
James II. Anon, contemporary .......
James III. (the Pretender). Engraved by Thomassin in 1702
The Seizure of Judge Jeffries by the People. Modern repro
duction of old print .....
The Emperor Joseph I. .
Leibnitz. Engraved by Ficquet
The Earl of Leicester. Anon, contemporary
The Emperor Leopold. Engraved by le Poutre
Louis XIV. Engraved by George Kilian
Louis XV. of France. Engraved by Petit from the painting by Vanloo
Louis William of Baden. Engraved by C. Heiss .
The Empress Maria Theresia. Engraved by Pfeffel
The Duchess of Marlborough. Engraved by J. Smith
The Duke of Marlborough. Engraved by Valk
Mary Queen of Scots. Engraved by Golz about 1587
Mary Queen of Scots. Engraved by J. West
Queen Mary. Anon, contemporary ....
Queen Mary Beatrix. Anon, contemporary .
Maximilian Emmanuel of Bavaria. Anon. .
James Duke of Monmouth. Engraved by Picart in 1724
Napoleon before the Battle of Waterloo. Engraved from the
picture by Goubaud painted during the hundred days
Napoleon on the Island of St. Helena. From a lithograph of
Horace Vernet's painting ....
Nelson. Engraved in Italy in 1 799
The Death of Nelson .....
Peter the GreAt. Engraved by J. Smith in 1697
William Pitt. Anon. .....
Philip II. Anon. Most probably contemporary
Philip V. of Spain. Engraved by Hafner
An illustrated news-leaf, contemporary, concerning
ishment of the regicides ....
Prince Rupert. Anon. ......
Slavata. Anon, contemporary .....
The Electress Sophia. Engraved by Schenck in 1710

244
248257
272274
295 62
40
33
162
199
1 78
216
230 6
214 197
25J216
254221222
Frontispiece 9
191J93
2I5 i59

296297284
287 218
278 2
21 1
121 84 28
234

List of Illustrations xxi
To Face Page
Sophie Charlotte, Electress of Brandenburg. Engraved by
Hainzelmann in 16S9 ......... 239
Sophia Dorothea, Daughter of George I. Engraved by J. Smith
in i7J5  243
Thomas Earl of Strafford. Engraved by R. White from Van
Dyck's painting ....... • • 79
The Tea-Tax Tempest. An Allegorical representation . . . 270
Wellington. Engraved by Fielker from Beechey's painting . . 292
William of Orange as a Boy. Engraved by Crispin van Qiiebooren 205
William and Mary. Anon. ........ 208
William of Orange (King William III.). Engraved by Jean Verkalje 1S1
Prince William Henry (Later William IV.). Engraved by Barto-
lozzi from a painting by West ....... 298
King William IV. Anon. ........ 300
Queen Victoria. Anon, (about 1S40) ...... 3-00
The Christening of the Prince of Wales. Caricatures drawn
in 1841  300

QJJEEN ELIZABETH.
(Engraved by Ureiitbach from the original by N. Hilliard.)

SIDE LIGHTS

ENGLISH HISTORY

GROUP I.
THE PERSONALITY OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.

i. Extract from Sir Robert Naun-
ton, " Fragmenta Regalia." (Printed
together with Cary's Memoirs. Edin
burgh, 1808.)
. . . Her destiny had decreed to set
her (Elizabeth) an apprentice in the
school of affliction, and to draw her
through the ordeal fire of trial, the
better to mould and fashion her to rule
and sovereignty : which finished, and
Fortune calling to mind that the time
of her servitude was expired, . . . de
livered up into her custody a sceptre,
as a reward for her patience, which
was about the twenty-sixth year of her
age — a time in which (as for externals)
she was full-blown ; so was she for her
internals grown ripe and seasoned with
adversity, and in the exercise of her
virtue. . . .
She was of personage tall, of hair
and complexion fair, and therewith
well-favored, but high-nosed, of limbs
and feature neat, and, which added to
the lustre of these exterior graces, of
stately and majestic comportment, par
ticipating in this more of her father
than mother, who was of an inferior
allay [alloy?], plausible, or, as the

French hath it, more debonaire, and
affable virtues which might well suite
with majesty, and which descending,
as hereditary to the daughter, did ren
der her of a more sweeter temper, and
endeared her more to the love and lik
ing of the people, who gave her the
name and fame of a most gracious
and popular Prince ; the atrocity of
her father's nature being rebated in
hers, by the mother's sweeter inclina
tions. . . .

2. Answer of Elizabeth to the Speak
er of the House of Commons, 1559.
(In Camden, Life and Reign of Queen
Elizabeth. Originally in Latin.) The
Speaker had begged her, in the name
of the Parliament, to "accept some
match capable of supplying heirs to
your royal virtues and dominions."
. . . "I have made choice of such a
state as is freest from the incumbrance
of secular pursuits and gives me the
most leisure for the service of God :
and could the applications of the most
potent princes, or the very hazard of
my life, have diverted me from this
purpose, I had long ago worn the hon-

Elizabeth

ors of a bride. These were my senti
ments when I was but a private per
son ; but now that the care and weight
of a kingdom lies upon my shoulders,
to add to these the incumbrance of the
married state would be no point of dis
cretion in me : But that I may give you
the best satisfaction I can, I have long
since made choice of a husband, the
Kingdom of England. And here,"
continues she, "is the pledge and em
blem of my marriage contract, which
I wonder you should so soon have for
got." With that she shewed them her
finger with the same gold ring upon it
with which she had solemnly and form
ally betrothed herself to the Kingdom
at her inauguration. After she had
paused a little, "I beseech you," said
she, "gentlemen, charge me not with
the want of children, for as much
as every one of you, and every. Eng
lishman besides, are my children and
relations. . . . Should it be my lot
to continue as I am, a Virgin Queen,
I doubt not but the providence of God,
seconded by your counsels and my own
measures, will so dispose matters as to
put the question of a successor out of
all debate. . . . For my own part, I
desire no better character nor fairer
remembrance of me to posterity than
to have this inscription on my tomb
when I come to pay my last debt to
nature : ' Here lies Elizabeth, who liv'd
and died a Maiden-Queen.1' "

3. Correspondence of Spanish En
voys in London with Philip II. (From
State Papers ; Spanish Series.)
Feria to Philip II.
Dec. 14, 1558.
... It gives me great trouble every
time I write to your Majesty not to be
able to send more pleasing intelligence,
but what can be expected from a country

governed by a Queen, and she a young
lass, who, although sharp is without
prudence, and is every day standing up
against religion more openly? The
kingdom is entirely in the hands of
young folks, heretics and traitors, and
the Queen does not favor a single man
whom her Majesty, who is now in
Heaven, would have received, and will
take no one into her service who served
her sister when she was Lady Mary.
On her way from the Tower to her house
where she now is, she saw the Marquis
of Northampton, who is ill with a
quartan ague, at a window, and she
stopped her palfrey and was for a long
while asking him about his health in
the most cordial way in the world.
The only true reason for this was that
he had been a great traitor to her sister.
. . . She seems to me incomparably
more feared than her sister, and gives
her orders and has her way as abso
lutely as her father did. ... I am
trying to get a chamber in the palace
when she goes to Whitehall, although
I am very much afraid they will not
give me one ; . . . they are so suspi
cious of me that not a man amongst
them dares to speak of me. . . . They
are all very glad to be free of your
Majesty, as if you had done harm instead
of very much good. . . . Truly they
run away from me as if I were the
Devil. The best thing will be to get.
my foot into the palace, so as to speak
oftener to the Queen, as she is a woman
who is very fond of argument. Every
body thinks that she will not marry a
foreigner and they cannot make . out
whom she favours, so that nearly every
day some new cry is raised about' a hus
band. . . . The most discreet people
fear she will marry for caprice. . . .
I do not know which way the Queen
is inclined, for on the one hand she
complained to me of her sister's having
married a foreigner, and on the other

PHILIPPVS II. D.G.HISPAlsriARVM
ET INDIARVM REX CATOLICVS
ARCHIDVX AVSTRIA.

ki

ft&li

 i 

Elizabeth

I see she is very vain and as much set
against her sister as she was previous
to her death. I fancy I can get at her
through this feeling : ... we must tell
her that one of the reasons the Queen,
now in heaven, disliked her was her
fear that if she died your Majesty would
marry her (Elizabeth). ... If she
inclines to your Majesty it will be neces
sary for you to send me orders whether
I am to carry it any further or throw
cold water on it and set up the Arch
duke Ferdinand. . . . When I left on
that day I sent her by the Admiral's
wife the two rings that your Majesty
gave me which belonged to the late
Queen, because as I saw she was so
fond of her jewels I thought best to
give her up even the poorest of them.
... I told her about the jewels which
were in the box at Whitehall and said
I would give her the key when I came.
She accepted. I have heard also that
the Queen, now in heaven, ordered in
her will that the jewels given to her by
your Majesty and the Emperor should
be returned to you, and these people
had concealed this and kept the jewels.
Seeing this I thought best to say that
your Majesty would be very pleased for
her to have them if she wanted them.
. . . She is very fond of having things
given to her, and her one theme is how
poor she is. . . . Both times I have
spoken with her have been in the pres
ence chamber crammed with people,
and what with this and all these gifts,
I think I never saw her so carried away
as she was to-day. April n, 1559.
. . . After she had finished with the
Portuguese, she called me to her and
asked whether I had letters from your
Majesty. I told her yes, and that on
the next day I would give her any
information she wanted about them,
but that I could not do so then, as I
was so angry with her and so annoyed.

She . . . began to say she had heard
your Majesty was married, smiling,
saying your name was a fortunate one,
and now and then giving little sighs
which bordered upon laughter. I told
her ... I could not rejoice to see your
Majesty married to any one else but
her. ... To this she retorted that it
was your Majesty's fault it had fallen
through and not hers. . . . She . . .
afterwards went on to say that your
Majesty could not have been so much
in love with her as I had said, as you
had not had patience to wait four
months for her, and many things of the
same sort, as if she was not at all
pleased at the decision adopted by your
Majesty. . . . May 10th.
What can be said here to your
Majesty is only that this country, after
thirty years of a government such as
your Majesty knows, has fallen into the
hands of a woman who is a daughter
of the Devil, and the greatest scoundrels
and heretics in the land. (Exit Feria,
Ed.J Bishop of Aquila to Philip.
May 30th.
. . . We [the queen and the bishop]
continued at this for some time wasting
words, and at last she said she was re
solved not to marry except to a man of
worth whom she had seen and spoken
to, and she asked whether I thought the
Archduke Charles would come to this
country that she might see him. ... I
do not know whether she is jesting,
which is quite possible, but I really be
lieve she would like to arrange for this
visit in disguise. I turned it to a joke.
. . . Robert [Dudley] is as highly fav
ored as usual. . . . I am not sure about
her for I do not understand her.
Amongst other qualities which she says
her husband must possess is, that he
should not sit at home all day amongst

4

Elizabeth

the cinders, but should in time of peace
keep himself employed in warlike ex
ercises. July 27th.
I have lost all hopes in the affairs of
this woman. She is convinced of the
soundness of her unstable power, and
will only see her error when she is ir
retrievably lost. In religious matters
she has been saturated ever since she
was born in a bitter hatred to our faith,
and her one object is to destroy it. If
your Majesty were to give her life and
all in it, as you did once before, she
would never be more friendly than she
is now, and she would, if she had the
power, sow heresy broadcast in all your
Majesty's dominions to-day, and set
them ablaze without compunction.
Besides this her language (learnt from
Italian heretic friars who brought her
up) is so shifty that it is the most diffi
cult thing in the world to negotiate with
her. With her all is falseness and
vanity. [Exit Aquila. — Ed.]
Bishop Quadra to the Duchess of
Parma.
London, Sept. 11, 1560.
Since writing, news of importance is
current here which I convey to your
Highness. . . . She (the Queen) had
promised me an answer about the mar
riage by the third instant, and said she
was certain to marry ; but now she
coolly tells me she cannot make up her
mind and will not marry. After this I
had an opportunity of talking to Cecil
[Lord Burleigh], who I understand was
in disgrace and Robert [Dudley] was
trying to turn him out of his place.
After exacting many pledges of strict
secrecy, he said the Queen was con
ducting herself in such a way that he
thought of retiring. He said it was a
bad sailor who did not enter port if he
could when he saw a storm coming on,
and he clearly foresaw the ruin of the

realm through Robert's intimacy with
the Queen, who surrendered all affairs
to him and meant to marry him. He
said ... he should ask leave to go
home, although he thought they would
cast him in the Tower first. He ended
by begging me in God's name to point
out to the Queen the effect of her mis
conduct, and persuade her not to aban
don business entirely but to look to her
realm ; and then he repeated twice over
to me that Lord Robert would be better
in Paradise than here. . . . He ended
by saying that Robert was thinking of
killing his wife, who was publicly an
nounced to be ill, although she was
quite well, and would take very good
care they did not poison her. He said
surely God would never allow such a
wicked thing to be done. I ended the
conversation by again expressing my
sorrow without saying anything to
compromise me, although I am sure he
speaks the truth and is not acting crook
edly. . . . The next day the Queen
told me as she returned from hunting
that Robert's wife was dead, or nearly
so, and asked me not to say anything
about it. Certainly this business is
most shameful and scandalous, and
withal I am not sure whether she will
marry the man at once or even if she
will marry at all. Cecil says she wishes
to do as her father did. Their quarrels
cannot injure public business, as nobody
worse than Cecil can be at the head of
affairs, but the outcome of it all might
be the imprisonment of the Queen and
the proclamation of the Earl of Hunt
ingdon as King. . . . Cecil says he is
the real heir of England, and all the
heretics want him. . . . The cry is
that they do not want any more women
rulers, and this woman may find herself
and her favourite in prison any morn
ing. . . .
Since writing the above I hear the
Queen has published the death of Rob-

Elizabeth

5

ert's wife, and said, in Italian, "She
broke her neck." She must have fallen
down a staircase. Quadra to the King.
Nov. 20th, 1560.
. . . Cecil has given way to Robert,
who they say was married to the Queen
in the presence of his brother and two
ladies of the chamber. . .
Jan. 22d, 1561.
Since writing the enclosed letter
Henry Sidney, who is the brother-in-
law of Lord Robert, came to see me.
He is a sensible man and better be
haved than any of the courtiers. He
began by beating about the bush very
widely, but at last came to his brother-
in-law's affairs and said that as the
matter was now public property, and I
knew how much inclined the Queen
was to the marriage, he wondered that
I had not suggested to your Majesty
this opportunity for gaining over Lord
Robert by extending a hand to him
now. ... I told him that what I had
so far heard of this matter was of such
a character that I had hardly ventured
to write two lines to your Majesty about
it, nor had either the Queen or Lord
Robert ever said a word to me that I
could write. . . . He said that if I
was satisfied about the death of Rob
ert's wife, he saw no other reason why
I should hesitate to write the purport
of this conversation to your Majesty,
as, after all, although it was a love af
fair, yet the object of it was marriage,
and that there was nothing illicit about
it or such as could not be set right by
jour Majesty's authority. As regards
the death of the wife, he was certain
that it was accidental, and he had never
been able to learn otherwise, although
he had enquired with great care and
knew that public opinion held the con
trary. I told him if what he said were
true the evil was less, for, if murder

had been committed, God would never
help nor fail to punish so abominable
a crime, whatever men might do to
mend it, but that it would be difficult
for Lord Robert to make things appear
as he represented them. He answered
it was quite true that no one believed
it, and that even preachers in the pul
pits discoursed on the matter in a way
that was prejudicial to the honour and
interests of the Queen. . . . He said
the Queen would not mention the mat
ter to me unless I began the conversa
tion, but that I might be sure that she
desired nothing more than the counte
nance of your Majesty to conclude the
match, and that Lord Robert would
come to me and beg me to write to your
Majesty what I heard from him. . .
The above is exactly what passed,
and for some days I had suspected that
the Queen had some such idea, but as
the business is altogether such a bad
one, I did not venture to broach the
subject. ... It is possible that if she
finds herself unable to obtain your Maj
esty' s favour, she may throw herself to
the bad. . . Things have reached such
a pitch that her chamberlain has left
her, and Axele of the Privy Chamber
is in prison for having babbled. . .
He (Robert) begged me to speak to
the Queen at once. I did so two days
afterwards. . . . After much circum
locution she said she wished to confess
to me and tell me her secret in confes
sion, which was that she was no angel,
and did not deny that she had some
affection for Lord Robert for the many
good qualities he possessed, but she had
certainly never decided to marry him
or any one else. . . .
Philip II. to Quadra.
March 17th, 1561.
. . . Try also to lead the matter on
to a more solid basis, as for instance
by bringing the Queen and Lord Rob-

Elizabeth

ert into it, arid getting in writing and
signed by her whatever the Queen may
wish to be proposed to you. This is
necessary, as her words are so little to
be depended upon, and you know by
experience you have had of her that
this is always the course she pursues
when she has no intention of fulfilling
what she says, and only wishes to use
our authority for her own designs and
intentions. . . .
Quadra to Philip. June 30th.
. . . On the day of St. John the Queen
ordered me to be invited to a feast given
by Lord Robert. ... In the afternoon
we went on board a vessel from which
we were to see the rejoicings, and she,
Robert and I being alone on the gal
lery, they began joking, which she likes
to do much better than talking about
business. They went so far with their
jokes that Lord Robert told her that, if
she liked, I could be the minister to
perform the act of marriage, and she,
nothing loth to hear it, said she was
not sure whether I knew enough Eng
lish. I let them jest for a time, but at
last spoke to them in earnest, and told
them that if they listened to me they
could extricate themselves from the tyr
anny of the councillors who had taken
possession of the Queen and her affairs.
... If they did this they could effect
the marriage they spoke of. . . . As
things were I did not think the Qieen
would be able to marry except when
and whom Cecil and his friends might
please. . . .
Guzman de Silva to Philip II.
Oct. 2d, 1564.
. . . On Michaelmas day, with the
usual ceremony, here the Queen created
Lord Robert, Baron and Earl of Leices
ter, which they say is a title usually
given to the second sons of the Kings
of England. . . .

4. A Visit to Cambridge in 1564.
(From a pamphlet entitled "The Tri
umph of the Muses, or The Grand
Reception and Entertainment of Queen
Elizabeth at Cambridge." )
. . . Then came the Trumpetters,
and, by solemn blast, declared her
Majestie to approach. Then followed
the Lords in their order and degree.
Her almoner, the Bishop of Rochester,
bareheaded, with the Bishop of Ely.
Then the Garter King at Arms, in his
royal cote ; with divers Sergeants at
Arms. Then the Lord Hunsdon with
the sword, in a royal scabbard of gold
smith's work. And, after him, the
Queen's Majestie (with a great com-
panie of ladies and maids of honour) .
. . . And so she was brought among
the Doctors ; when all the Lords and
Ladies did forsake their horses ; and
her Majestie only remained on horse
back. She was dressed in a gown of black
velvet pinked : a call upon her head,
set with pearles and pretious stones ; a
hat that was spangled with gold and a.
bush of feathers. . . .
When the Queen's Majestie came to
the west doore of the church, Sir
William Cecyl kneeled down and wel
comed her Grace, shewing unto her the
order of the doctors. And the Bedells,
kneeling, kissed their staves ; and so
delivered them to Mr. Secretary ; who
likewise kissed the same, and so deliv
ered them to the Queen's hands; who
could not well hold them all. And
her Grace gently and merrily re-deliv
ered them, willing him and other mag
istrates of the University to minister
justice uprightly, as she trusted they
did. Or she would take them into her
own hands, and see to it. Adding
that, although the Chancellor did hault
(for his leg was sore, as is before men
tioned), yet she trusted that Justice did
not hault. . „ .

DVDLJLI Com&s LicESTHI, en, era ItyPEurr,
yronvtil

SAlaananimi womytus JUat-is almmus erafr

Elizabeth

7

Then Mr. William Master, of the
King's College, orator, making his
three curtesies, kneeled down upon the
first greese or step of the west door
(which was, on the walls outward,
covered with verses) and made his
oration, of length almost half an hour.
. . . First he praised and commended
many and singular virtues set and
planted in her Majesty. Which her
Highness not acknowledging of she
shaked her head, bit her lips and her
fingers ; and sometimes broke forth
into passion and these words, "Non
est Veritas, et utinam  " . . . Then
she alighted from her horse and asking
of what degree every doctor was ?
offered her hand to be kissed. . . .
And as she went, she " thanked God
that had sent her to this University,
where she, altogether against her ex
pectation, was so received that, she
thought, she could not be better."

5. A Visit to Oxford in 1566. (From
John Bereblock's Commentary. In
Plummer's Elizabethan Oxford. Ox
ford, 1887. Editor's translation
from the Latin.)
On the last day of August, the
brightest that we remember in our
whole lives, — it was a wonderfully
clear Saturday, — her royal Majesty,
coming from Woodstock, directed her
way with a large train of attendants
towards Oxford. The Earl of Leices
ter had previously come with his suite
to add the weight of his dignity and
office in preparing the town for the
intended function and to receive with
us her royal Majesty. On this day,
accompanied by some of the doctors in
their purple gowns and also by some
of the heads of the colleges (who, in
consideration of their more exalted
rank, drove in carriages, wearing the
appropriate robes of their own facul

ties) , he went out to meet the Sov
ereign. . . . Having proceeded two
miles from the town (to the line where
our jurisdiction ends) they greeted the
most serene monarch with a felicitous
and eloquent oration, which Marbeck
delivered in their name and in that of
the whole university. Then they moved
towards Oxford, the peasants and farm
ers running out from the villages and
settlements to greet her, their shouts
and cheers making the hills and dales
ring with the royal name and might.
Nor does it seem beneath our regard
for the royal dignity to tell in what
rank and order the different men
marched. . . . First came the Aca
demic lictors with their golden staves,
to show the way, as it were. Then
followed the noblest princes, in high
good spirits, adorned to the last degree
with royal magnificence — among them
those men of supreme rank, the Earl of
Leicester, the Chancellor of the Uni
versity and the Mayor of the town.
Then the royal lictors, in magnificent
array, preceding the monarch with
huge maces ; just behind them the Earl
of Sussex bore the sword, resplendent
with its jewelled hilt, its golden belt
and its embossed scabbard. Then at a
short distance, at a slow and noble
pace, followed the most august mon
arch borne along on a raised golden
throne. Her palanquin was open on
all sides, being carried by distinguished
knights clad in purple and advancing
with measured steps.
Lest the curious may ask in vain
about her raiment, she had on the top
of her head a little net sparkling with
spun gold, with drops and pearls.
Then her dress of state, a woman's
toga of silk, was of richest purple
shining with threads of gold. Her
outer garment was similar, of scarlet
tinged with purple, with a fur lining
of dazzling whiteness and marked with

8

Elizabeth

black spots, such as might have been
worn in a triumph.
Nor ought I to pass over here what
the most illustrious queen, with the ut
most grace and suavity, did towards the
end of our [oratorical] contest. For
with the utmost condescension, lest by
the harsh proof of her silence she might
have seemed to scorn and despise our
efforts, she looked round on the assem
bly and began with incredible facility
[in Latin] to make an address which
thrilled the souls of all. . . . Womanly
timidity and modesty made her at first
hesitate and appear diffident. She
seemed to blush with maidenly shame
from this display of her age and her
learning, and to shrink with a certain
ingenuous bashfulness from the task of
speaking. But it was wonderful to see
how the unutterable love of all of us
affected her reluctance. For so did the
whole assembly hang with eager hope
and expectation on her lips and dis
course that she was urged on, strength
ened and reassured in mind, and de
livered before us an oration in about
these words : —
She was listened to by all in silence
and with rapt attention, but was after
wards greeted with the wildest cheers
and blessings. The walls, and even
the windows and benches, seemed to
resound deafeningly with the voices
of our men, and our words to come
back to us more distinctly than we had
uttered them.
The next day, Friday, dawned for
us more calamitously than the preced
ing ones. For even as, previously, the
coming of our Sovereign had wonder
fully delighted us, so, this day, her
sudden departure the more grievously
afflicted us. But we were obliged
to bring our minds to it, for so had

hard fate previously arranged and or
dained. . . .
She, meanwhile, sad and mournful,
mingled her own grief with ours. She
seemed to feel this parting very much
and to bewail her lot as she rode along.
She is said to have bitterly regretted
leaving us before she had visited any of
the colleges or heard a sermon by one
of our divines. They say that never
before had she been so sad at ending a
visit as now at leaving our town. With
protestations to this effect, and often
looking at us most graciously, she
passed through the Eastern gate and
Magdalen College and came to the con
fines of the university. Here once
more Marbeck told her how pleasant
in itself, and what a boon to the uni
versity her presence had been, how
much more eager it would make us all
in our studies, how it would spur us
on, what a spark it had ignited. He
thanked her most profusely in the name
of all. After which speech the differ
ent doctors prostrated themselves at
her feet. . . . She graciously raised
them and gave them her right hand
to kiss. . . .

6. Extract from the Report of the
French Envoy, Chateauneuf, to his
King. In Teulet Papiers d' Etat,
Vol. II. p. 807, 1586. Translated.
. . . The said lady, to speak of her
peculiar characteristics, is a very pru
dent and accomplished princess who
has been very well brought up. She
plays all sorts of instruments, speaks
several languages, and even Latin, very
well, is intelligent and quick-witted, a
woman with a deep sense of justice, in
no way tyrannizing over her subjects,
and who was beautiful when she was
young. Besides all this a great man
ager and almost miserly, very high and
quick tempered, and, above all, excess
ively jealous of her position.

Elizabeth

On her coming to the throne she
made much use in public affairs of Mr.
William Cecil, her Secretary of State,
whom she afterwards made Lord Bur
leigh and Grand Treasurer of England.
He was still living when I arrived in
the said kingdom; a wise, prudent,
pacific and thrifty man, with a clear
and acute mind — a man who can say
with truth that he has been a splendid
servant, as indeed his mistress has
always placed great confidence in him.
She has had Lord Dudley, later Earl
of Leicester, whom she has always
greatly loved since she was young, and
indeed he was a very handsome gentle
man, honorable and courteous ; and at
the time of my arrival he was about
fifty three or four years old and had
grown very rotund. These two men
are the ones who during the whole of

her reign have had most influence with
her ; and in fact I believe that the man
in all the world she came nearest to
marrying was this Earl of Leicester,
having had a wonderful affection for
him which she herself did not conceal.
And although, as 1 have said, she had
been sought by many great princes,
like our three dauphins, by Archduke
Charles, brother of the late Emperor
Maximilian, by the King of Sweden, it
is the said Earl of Leicester who came
nearest to marrying her. However,
the said lady having made up her mind
not to marry at all, she has greatly ele
vated him and all his relatives ; so
much so that at the time of my arrival
he might have been called the first man
in England after the said lady. [This
was 22 years after the scene on ship
board. — Ed.]

GROUP II.

THE EXECUTION OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS.

i. Extract from Sir James Melville's
Memoirs (Publ. Bannatyne Club, 1827,
p. 355 ff.) . Spelling modernized. 1586.
. . . Now they that were enemies
to our Queen and King's [Mary and
James VI.] title to the right of the
crown of England, seeing some of their
fetches to fail them, entered in deliber
ation what way to proceed in the taking
of the Queen's life. Sometimes they
minded to give her an Italian posset
[powder], sometimes to slay her at the
hunting in a park, but at length, by
way of an assize, to convict her. . . .
All their calumnies and false accusa
tions being presented in writing unto
the Queen of England, her heart would
not suffer her, as she alleged, to let any
sentence be given forth against the
¦Queen, her dear sister and cousin, so

near of her royal blood, until the coun
cil, nobility and estates, at least such as
were seduced to that effect, sat down
upon their knees, humbly requesting
her Majesty to have compassion upon
their unsure estate, albeit she cared not
for her own, by the practices of the
Queen of Scotland. Whereby she
was at length moved, for very pity of
them, to give forth the sentence of death
upon the Queen, with condition that it
should rather serve to be a fear and
terror unto her, to cause her to cease
from making any more practices, than
that she would see the blood of so noble
a princess to be shed. And in the
meantime the ¦written sentence was
given in keeping to Mister Davison,
one of her secretaries, and not to be
delivered without her Majesty* s express
command.

IO

Elizabeth

Nevertheless, the said Davison being
desired by the council, afterwards de
livered unto them the said written sen
tence of death. Whereupon they gave
the Queen warning a night before, to
prepare her for God. . . .

2. Extracts from Letters of Queen
Elizabeth to King James of Scotland.
(Publ. by Camden Society, 1849.)
January, 1586-7.
. . . You may see whether I keep
the serpent that poisons me when they
confess to have reward [sz'c]. By
saving of her life they would have had
mine. Do I not make myself, trow ye,
a goodly prey for every wretch to de
vour? Transfigure yourself into my
state, and suppose what you ought to
do, and thereafter weigh my life and
reject the care of murder, and shun all
baits that may untie our amities, and
let all men know that princes know
best their own laws, and misjudge not
that you know not. . . .
Feb. 1, 1586-7.
. . . They will make [out] that her
life may be saved, and mine safe ; which
would God were true, for when you
make view of my long danger endured
these four — well nigh five months, . . .
the greatest wits . . . will grant with
me that if need were not more than my
malice, she should not have her merit.
And now for a good conclusion of
my long-tarried-for answer. Your
commissioners tell me that I may trust
her in the hand of some indifferent
prince, and have all her cousins and
allies promise she will no more seek
my ruin. Dear brother and cousin,
weigh in true and equal balance whether
they lack not much good ground when
such stuff serves for their building.
Suppose you I am so mad to trust my
life in another's hand and send it out
of my own ? . . . Old Master Melvin

hath years enough to teach him more
wisdom than tell a prince of any judg
ment such a contrarious, frivolous,
maimed reason. Let your councillors,
for your honor, discharge their duty so
much to you as to declare the absurdity
of such an offer. . . . Though like a
most natural, good son you charged
them to seek all means they could
devise with wit or judgment to save her
life, yet I cannot, nor do not, allege
any fault to you of these persuasions.
... I doubt not but your wisdom will
excuse my need . . . and not accuse
me either of malice or of hate. . . .

3. Extract from the Journal of Bour-
going, Mary' s body physician. ( Chan-
telauze : Marie Stuart, pp. 571 ff.)
Translated from the French.
Monday the sixth of February the
dean of Peterborough and some othei s
came to dine with Sir Amyas [Mary's
jailor]. After dinner Mr. Beale
arrived at the apartment all alone,
remained closeted with Sir Amyas and
then returned to the village.
Tuesday, Feb. 7th, several came,
one of whom we think was the sheriff ,
and dined with Sir Amyas. After din
ner the Earl of Kent, and last of all
Mr. de Shrewesbury. At their coming
we were in a great state of distraction
and fear, having during the past three
days fancied that many things boded ill
for her Majesty in her straits, and sus
pecting that surely the blow was about
to fall.
They sent word to her Majesty that
they wished to speak to her, and she
answered that she was in bed, but that
if it was an urgent matter she would
ask for a little time in which to rise
and dress.
Having been told that it was an
affair of importance her Majesty pre
pared to receive them in her room,
seated in her chair at the foot of her

Elizabeth

1 1

bed ; and when the said two Earls had
come, together with Mr. Beale and Mr.
Paulet and Sir Dru Drury, the Earl of
Shrewesbury uncovering his head —
while all the rest standing together did
not uncover themselves during the
whole time they were talking to her —
commenced by saying that the Queen
of England had sent them to her, in
her own name and that of her Estates,
to inform her that having proceeded,
as she knew, honorably and as expe
diency demanded in her affair, she
having been accused, found guilty and
condemned, as she knew and as the
Queen had taken care she should be
informed, she should hear read her
sentence which he and the Earl of
Kent together with Mr. Beale had
been appointed to carry out, as she
should hear.
Thereupon said Beale commenced to
read it, written on parchment with the
great seal of England appended, and in
it her Majesty was called Mary Stuart,
daughter of James V., otherwise known
as Queen of Scots and Dowager of
France. When this had been read her Majesty,
very firmly and without emotion, re
plied that she thanked them for such
agreeable news ; that they were doing
her a great benefit in removing her
from this world, whence she was well
content to go on account of the misery
she saw there, and she herself having
had continual sorrow and being of ser
vice or profit to no one. She had
long expected what had now hap
pened, and had only been waiting for it
from day to day for eighteen years.
Unworthy as she considered herself she
was, by the grace of God, a queen, a
born and anointed queen, a near rela
tive of the Queen of England, grand
daughter of King Henry VII., and she
had enjoyed the honor of being Queen
of France. But in all her life she had

experienced nothing but evil, and she
was very happy that it had pleased
God to remove her from so many ills
and afflictions, very ready and content to
die and shed her blood in the cause of
Almighty God her Saviour and Creator
and of the Catholic Church, and for
the maintenance of the law of this
country. For such maintenance she
protested that she had alwajs done her
utmost, loving the Queen, her good
sister, and the Island as dearly as she
did herself ; as she had often shown by
offering to take such measures that
everything would turn out well, . . .
in which endeavor she had always
been rebuffed and repulsed and held
prisoner without having merited it ;
having come of her own free will to
this country and trusting in the prom
ise of the Queen of England, with
whom she could have come to an
agreement and taken measures that
would have been mutually satisfactory
had she only one single time been
allowed to speak to her. Finally after
many words her Majesty protested, and
swore on the Bible that she had upon
her person, or at least on the Catholic
new Testament that she had in English,
that she had never attempted nor sought
the life of the Queen nor of any other
person whatever. She was told in
reply that this Bible was a papistical
version and that they could not take it
into account.
She was offered the dean of Peter
borough, one of the most learned men
in Europe, who would give her conso
lation and talk to her about her salva
tion and about which was the true
religion ; that she had always remained
fast bound in what she had learned in
her youth, and this chiefly because she
had had no one to tell her the truth.
It was time, now that she had so few
hours to live, for her to think of her
conscience and recognize the true

12

Elizabeth

religion, and she should not hold any
longer to these follies and abominations
of papistry. Her Majesty answered
. . . that she had heard and read the
most learned men not only in the Cath
olic but also in the Protestant religion ;
. . . that she had found no edification,
but, having lived thus far in the true
religion it was no time to change ; now
was the hour for remaining firm and
constant as she intended doing. Rather
than falter she would lose ten thousand
lives if she had them, and, if possible,
shed all her blood several times and
endure all the cruelest torments they
could invent ; finally, in order to con
sole her and the better prepare her for
death that they should let her see her
priest, none other would she have. . . .
Finally, being constantly urged to
hear the minister, her Majesty asked
when she would have to die. The
reply was the next day, "about eight
o'clock in the morning." . . .
After supper her Majesty sent for
all her servants, urged them to live in
charity with each other, and, after a
long harangue, took leave of them,
granting them pardon for every
thing. . . .
In the night, after having lain down
with her clothes on for several hours,
she put her last wishes into writing as
fully as she could in the time at her
command, arranged about her furni
ture and about the journey of her ser
vants, and gave each one his or her
money as she thought right. . . .

4. Letter of Mary to her brother-in-
law, Henry III. of France. Written at
two o'clock on the morning of the
execution. (Chantelauze, p. 397.)
Translation. My brother-in-law : Having come
with God's permission, on account of
my sins I suppose, to throw myself in
to the arms of this queen, my cousin,

where I have passed more than twenty
years constantly beset by annoyances, I
have at last, by her and her Estates, been
condemned to death. Having asked for
my papers, which they had taken away,
in order to make my will, I have received
back nothing that was of any use. And
they would grant me neither leave to
make a new will nor my request that
after my death my body might be trans
ported to your kingdom, where I have
had the honor of being queen, your
sister and former ally. To-day, after
dinner, they have pronounced to me my
sentence without longer respite : that to
morrow, at seven o'clock in the morn
ing, I should be executed like a criminal.
I have had no time to draw up a full
account of all that happened ; but, if it
will please you to believe my physician
(Bourgoing) and these other bereaved
servitors of mine you will know what
the truth is, and that, thanks to God, I
scorn death and resolutely protest that I
am suffering it free from all crime, even
though I were their subject, which I
never will be. The Catholic religion
and the maintenance of the right that
God has given me to this crown : these
are the two points of my condemnation.
And yet they will not permit me to say
that it is for the Catholic religion I am
dying, but aver it is for fear I shall
change theirs. Consequently they have
removed my almoner, whom, although
he is in the house, I have not been
allowed to have confess me or shrive
me at my death ; but they have been
very persistent in trying to make me
receive the consolation and doctrine of
their minister whom they have brought
for the purpose. The bearer of this
(Bourgoing) and his companions, who
are mostly your subjects, will bear wit
ness how I comport myse'.f in this my
last act. It remains for me to suppli
cate you, as most Christian king, my
brother-in-law, friend, ally and one who

Elizabeth

'3

has so done me the honor of loving me
and protesting that love, that on the
occasion of this blow you will give
proof in all these matters of your high-
mindedness, by, on the one hand, through
charity, relieving me of one weight up
on my conscience which I cannot throw
off without you, namely, the recom
pensing of my bereaved servants and
the continuing to them of their wages ;
on the other, by causing prayers to be
made to God for a queen who has been
called most Christian, and who dies a
Catholic and bereft of all her means.
As to my son, I recommend him to you
according to his merits, for I cannot
answer for him ; but with regard to my
servitors I beg it of you with locked
hands. I make so bold as to send you
two rare health stones, trusting that
yours may be perfect and that your life
may be long and happy. You will
accept them as coming from your very
devoted sister-in-law, who dies bearing
testimony of the sincerity of her heart
towards you. I will draw up a memo
randum for you with regard to my
servants, and in what concerns my soul
you will be pleased to see to it that a
part is paid out of what you owe me,
and that in honor of Jesus Christ, to
whom at my death to-morrow I shall
pray for you, enough will be left to
establish yearly masses and to dispense
the necessary alms.
Wednesday, two hours past midnight.
Your very affectionate, good sister,
Mary.
5. Letter of R. Wynkfield to Lord
Burleigh. (In Dack : Trial, Execu
tion and Death of Mary Queen of Scots.
Northampton, 1889, p. 1 ff. Spelling
modernized and construction occasion
ally simplified.)
Feb. 8th, 1586. (Counts the New
Year as beginning March 25.)
It being certified on the 6th of Feb
ruary last to the Queen of Scots by the

Right Honorable Earl of Kent, the
Earl of Shrewesbury, and also by Sir
Amyas Paulett and Sir Dru Drury, her
governors, that she was to prepare her
self to die the eighth of February then
next coming, she, seeming not to be in
any terror, by aught that appeared
from any outward gesture or behavior,
of how they were planning that she
should die, but rather with smiling
cheer and pleasant countenance di
gested and accepted the said admoni
tion of preparing for Paradise. . . .
The said 8th of February came and
the time and place appointed for the
execution as aforesaid of the Queen of
Scots. She was of stature tall and
body corpulent, round-shouldered, her
face fat and broad, double-chinned and
with hazel eyes, her borrowed hair au
burn. Her attire was this : on her
head she had a dressing of lawn edged
with bone lace, a pomander chain and
an Agnus Dei about her neck, a cruci
fix in her hand, a pair of beads at her
girdle with a golden cross at the end of
them, a veil of lawn fastened to her
cowl bowed out with wire and edged
round about with bone lace. Her
gown was of black satin, printed, with
a train and long sleeves to the ground
set with acorn buttons of jet trimmed
with pearls, and short sleeves of black
satin cut with a pair of sleeves of pur
ple velvet whole under them. Her
kirtle was whole of fine figured black
satin ; the upper bodice of her petti
coat unlaced in the back, of crimson
velvet ; her shoes of Spanish leather
with the rough side outward ; a pair of
green silk garters, her stockings of
pale-blue colored worsted, clocked
with silver and edged on the tops with
silver, and next her legs a pair of white
Jersey hose.
The Queen, thus apparelled, in a
kind of joy, without any desire of de
ferring of matters or time, departed

H

Elizabeth

her chamber and very willingly bended
her steps towards the place of execu
tion, being gently carried out of her
said chamber into an entry next out of
the said great hall by two of Sir A.
Paulett his chiefest gentlemen. Mr.
Andrews, the high sheriff, went before
her. In the entry the honorable Earl
of Kent and the Earl of Shrewesbury,
commissioners appointed by her Ma
jesty for the said execution, together
with the two governors of her person,
Sir A. Paulett and Sir Dm Drury and
divers knights and gentlemen of good
account did meet her, where one of the
said Queen's servants, named Melville,
kneeling on his knees to the said
Queen, his mistress, wringing his
hands and shedding of many tears,
used then and there these words unto
her, saying: "Madame, unhappy me!
What man on earth was ever before
the messenger of such important sor
row and heaviness as I shall be when I
shall report that my good and gracious
Queen and mistress is beheaded in Eng
land! " This said, tears prevented
him of further speaking; whereupon
the said Queen, pouring out of her
dying tears, thus answered him : " My
good friend, cease to lament, for thou
hast cause rather to joy than to mourn ;
for now shalt thou see Mary Stuart's
troubles receive their long-expected
end and determination: for (said she),
good servant, all the world is but van
ity and subject still to more sorrow
than a whole ocean of tears can be
wail. But I pray (she said) thee
carry this message from me, that I
died a true woman to my religion and
like a true woman of Scotland and
France ; but God forgive them (said
she) that have long desired my end and
thirsted for my blood as the Hart doth
the water-brooks." . . .
After this the said Queen, being sup
ported by Sir A. Paulett and two gen

tlemen as aforesaid, Melville carrying
up her train, being accompanied by the
Earl of Kent and gentlemen and the
Sheriff going before her as aforesaid,
passed out of the entry into a hall
within the said Castle of Fotheringay
before mentioned, with a countenance
unappalled then and there made for her
death, stepped up to the scaffold in the
said hall, being two foot high and
twelve broad, with rails round about it
hanged and covered with black. Then
having the stool brought her she sat
down, and on the right hand of her
stood the Earl of Kent and the Earl of
Shrewesbury, on the left hand Mr. An
drews the Sheriff ; and opposite against
her stood the two executioners, and
round about the rails of the Scaffold
stood Knights, gents and others ; then
silence being made the Queen Maj
esty's commission for the execution
was read. During the reading of which
said commission the said Queen was
very silent, listening to it with so care
less a regard as though it had not con
cerned her at all. Nay, rather, with
so merry and cheerful a countenance as
if it had been a pardon from her Maj
esty for her life. . . .
Then the two executioners kneeled
down unto her and desired her to for
give them her death. She answered,
' ' I forgive you with all my heart, for I
hope that this death shall give me an
end to all my troubles." Then they,
with her two women, helping her up
began to disrobe her ; and then she laid
the crucifix upon the stool and one of
the executioners took from her neck the
Agnus Dei. And then she began to
lay hold on it, saying she would give it
to some of her women, and withal told
the executioner he should have money
for it. Then she suffered him, with
her two women, to take off her chain
of pomander beads and all her other
apparel, and that with a kind of glad-

Elizabeth

i

ness ; and smiling she began to make
herself unready, putting on a pair of
sleeves with her own hands which the
executioner rudely had before put off,
and that with such speed as if she had
longed to be gone out of the world.
During all these actions of disrobing of
the said Queen she never altered her
countenance, but, smiling as it were,
said she never had such grooms before
to make her unready, nor ever did put
off her clothes before such a company.
At length, she being untired of such of
her attire and apparel as was conven
ient, saving her petticoat and kirtle, her
two women, looking upon her, burst
out into a very great and pitiful weep
ing, crying and lamenting ; and when
their crying and shrieking began to de
cline they crossed themselves and prayed
in Latin.
Then the said Queen, turning her
self unto them and seeing them in such
a lamentable and mournful plight, em
braced them and said these words in
French, crossing them and kissing
them, "You ought rather to pray for
me and not to be so mournful, for (said
she) this day I trust shall end your
mistress's troubles." Then with a
smiling countenance she turned herself
to her men-servants, Melville and the
rest standing upon a bench near unto
the scaffold, who were for some time
crying out aloud and continually cross
ing themselves and praying in Latin, —
and the said Queen turned unto them
and did herself likewise cross them and
bid them farewell, and prayed them
to pray for her even unto the last hour.
This done, one of her women having
a Corpus Christi cloth lapped it up
three-cornered ways, and kissed it and
put it over the face of her Queen and
mistress and pinned it fast upon the
crown of her head. Then the two
women mournfully departed from her.
And then the said Queen kneeled down ;

at which time, very resolute and with
out any token of fear of death, she
spake aloud this psalm in Latin, "In
te Domine confido ne confundar in
eternum." Then groping for the
block she laid down her head, putting
her chain upon the block with both her
hands, which holding there still they
had been cut off had they not been es
pied. Then she laid herself upon the
block most quietly and stretched out
her arms and legs and cried out,. "In
manus tuas Domini," three or four
times. And at the last, while one of
the executioners held her slightly with
one of his hands, the other gave two
strokes with an axe before he did cut
off her head and yet left a little gristle
behind ; at which time she made very
small noise and stirred not any part of
herself from the place where she lay.
Then the executioner that cut off her
head lifted it up and bade God save the
Queen. Then her dressing of lawn fell
from her head, which appeared as gray
as if she had been 31 score years old,
pawled [cut] very short, her face being
in a moment so much altered from the
form which she had when she was
alive as few could remember her by
her dead face. Her lips stirred up and
down almost a quarter of an hour after
her head was cut off. Then said Mr.
Dean, " So perish all the Queen's ene
mies ; " afterwards the Earl of Kent
came to the dead body, and standing
over it with a loud voice said likewise,
' ' Such an end happen to the Queen and
the gospel's enemies." Then one of
the executioners, plucking off her gar
ters, espied her little dog which was
crept under her clothes, which would
not be gotten forth but with force, and
afterwards would not depart from the
dead corpse but came and lay between
her head and shoulders, — a thing dili
gently noted. The same dog, being
imbrued in her blood, was carried away

i6

Elizabeth

and washed, as all things else were that
had any blood unless those things that
were burned. The executioners were
sent away with money for their fees,
not having anything that belonged unto
her. Afterwards everyone was com
manded forth of the hall saving the
sheriff and his men, who carried her
up into a great chamber made ready
for the surgeons to embalm her, and
was embalmed.
And thus I hope, my very good Lord
(Burleigh) , I have certified unto your
Honor of all such actions, matters and
circumstances as did proceed from her
or any others at her death. Wherein I
dare promise unto your good Lord : if
not in some better or worse words than
were spoken I have somewhat mis
taken, in matters I have not any whit
offended. I will not so justify my duty
herein but that many things might well
have been omitted as not worthy not
ing ; yet because it is your Lordship's
fault to desire to know all and so I have
certified it, it is an offence pardonable.
So resting at your Honor's farther
commands, I take my leave this nth
of February, 1586(7).
Your Honor's in all humble service
to command,
R. Wynkfield.

6. Letter of Queen Elizabeth to King
James the Sixth, disavowing her having
caused the execution of the Queen of
Scots. (In Ellis, Original Letters,
First Series; Vol. III. p. 22.) Mod
ernized spelling. Feb. 14, 1586.
My dear Brother, I would you knew
(though not felt) the extreme dolor
that overwhelms my mind, for that
miserable accident which (far contrary
to my meaning) hath befallen. I have
now sent this kinsman of mine whom,
ere now, it hath pleased you to favor,
to instruct vou trulv of that which is

too irksome for my pen to tell you. I
beseech you that as God and many
more know how innocent I am in this
case : so you will believe me, that if I
had bid (directed) ought I would have
bided by it. I am not so base minded
that fear of any living creature or prince
should make me afraid to do that were
just, or done, to deny the same. I am
not of so base a lineage, nor carry so
vile a mind. But, as not to disguise
fits not a king, so will I never dissemble
my actions, but cause them show even
as I meant them. Thus assuring your
self of me, that as I know this was
deserved, yet if I had meant it I would
never lay it on other shoulders ; no
more will I not damnify my self, that
thought it not.
The circumstance it may please you
to have of this bearer. And for your
part, think you have not in the world
a more loving kinswoman, nor a more
dear friend than myself ; nor any that
will watch more carefully to preserve
you and your estate. And who shall
otherwise persuade you, judge them
more partial to others than you. And
thus in haste I leave to trouble you :
beseeching God to send you a long
reign. The 14th of Feb., 15S6.
Your most assured loving sister and
cousin, Elizab. R.

7. Extract from the Memoirs of
Robert Cary [Edinburgh, 1808], the
Bearer of the above Letter.
The next year (which was 1586) was
the Queen of Scots' beheading, ... at
which time (few or none in the court
being willing to undertake that journey)
her Majesty sent me to the King of
Scots, to make known her innocence
of her sister's death, with letters of
credence from herself to assure all that
I should affirm.
I was waylaid in Scotland, if I had
gone in, to have been murdered ; but

Elizabeth

17

the king's majesty, knowing the dis
position of his people [which he evi
dently did not share ! Ed.] and the
fury they were in, sent to me to Ber
wick, to let me know that no power of
his could warrant my life at that time ;
therefore, to prevent further mischief,
he would send me no convoy, but
would send two of his counsel to the
bound road to receive my letters, or
what other message I had to deliver.
. . . Sir George Hume and the master
of Melven met me at the bound road,
where I delivered my message in
writing, and my letters from the Queen
to the King. . . .

8. Letter of James to Elizabeth (in
Camden Soc. publication). March, 1586-7.
Madam and dearest sister, Whereas
by your letter and bearer, Robert Cary,
your servant and ambassador, you
purge yourself of yon unhappy fact.
As, on the one part, considering your
rank and sex, consanguinity and long-
professed goodwill to the defunct, to
gether with your many and solemn
attestations of your innocency, I dare
not wrong you so far as not to judge
honorably of your unspotted part there
in ; so, on the other side, I wish that
your honorable behaviour in all times
hereafter may fully persuade the whole
world of the same. And, as for my
part, I look that you will give me at
this time such a full satisfaction [he
later accepted a pension. Ed.] as
shall be a means to strengthen and
unite this isle. . . .

9. Letter of Elizabeth to James.
May, 15S8.
My pen, my dear brother, hath re
mained so long dry as [that] I suppose
it hardly would have taken ink again,
but, mollified by the good justice that

you .have been pleased to execute, to
gether with the large assurance that your
words have given to some of my min
isters : Which all doth make me ready
to drink most willingly a large
draught of the river of Lethe, never
minding to think of unkindness. . . .
God the searcher of all hearts ever so
have misericord of my soul as my in
nocency in that matter deserveth, and
no otherwise ; which invocation were
too dangerous for a guilty conscience.
. . . You may the more soundly trust
my vows, for never yet were they
stained, neither will I make you the first
on whom I shall bestow untruth, which
God will not suffer me live unto.
10. Extract from Wilson : Life and
Reign of James I. (In Kenneth, Vol.
II. p. 689.)
And now the King [James has be
come King of England] casts his
thoughts towards Peterborough, where
his mother lay, whom he caused to be
translated to a magnificent tomb at
Westminster, and (somewhat suitable
to her mind when she was living) she
had a translucent passage in the night
through the city of London by multi
tudes of torches ; the tapers placed by
the tomb and the altar in the cathedral
smoking with them like an offertory ;
with all the ceremonies and voices their
choirs and copes could express ; at
tended by many prelates and nobles who
paid this last tribute to her memory.
This was accounted a piaculous action
of the King' s by many ; though some
have not stuck to say that, as Queen
Elizabeth was willing to be rid of the
Queen of Scots, yet would not have
it of her action ; and being it could not
be done without her command, when it
was done she renounced her own act.
So, though the King was angry when
he heard his mother was taken away by

i8

Elizabeth

a violent death, recalling his ambassa
dor, threatening war and making a
great noise, which was after calmed
and closed up with a large pension
from the Queen, yet he might well
enough be pleased that such a spirit
was laid as might have conjured up
three kingdoms against him. For Pat

rick Grey, that the King sent to dis
suade Queen Elizabeth from taking
away his mother' s life, was the great
est instrument to persuade her to it,
distilling always into her this sen
tence, " Mortua non mordet" (when
she is dead she cannot bite).

GROUP III.
THE SPANISH ARMADA.
(From State Papers, Navy Records Society, 1894.)

1 . Letter of Admiral Howard to
Secretary Walsyngham. March 9th, 1587-8.
Sir : As I had made up my other
letter, Captain Frobisher doth advertise
me that he spake with two ships that
came presently from Lisbon, who de
clared unto him that for certainty the
King of Spain's fleet doth part from
Lisbon unto the Groyne the 15th of
this month by their account. Sir, there
is none that comes from Spain but
brings this advertisement ; and if it be
true, I am afraid it will not be helped
when the time serveth. Surely this
charge that her Majesty is at is either
too much or too little ; and the stay
that is made of Sir Francis Drake going
out I am afraid will breed great peril.

2. Letter of Sir Francis Drake to
the Council. March 30th.
. . . My very good Lords, next
under God's mighty protection the ad
vantage and gain of time and place
will be the only and chief means for
our good ; wherein I most humbly be
seech your good Lordships to persevere
as you have began, for that with fifty
sail of shipping we shall do more good

upon their own coast, than a great many
more will do here at home ; and the
sooner we are gone, the better we shall
be able to impeach them.
There is come home, since the send
ing away of my last messenger, one
bark whom I sent out as an espial, who
confirmeth those intelligences whereof
I have advertised your Lordships by
him ; and that divers of those Biscayans
are abroad upon that coast wearing
English flags, whereof there are made
in Lisbon three hundred with the red
cross, which is a great presumption,
proceeding of the haughtiness and pride
of the Spaniard, and not to be tolerated
by any true, natural English heart.

3. Letter of Drake to the Queen.
April 28th.
Most gracious Sovereign : Sithence
my last despatch of Mr. Stallenge to
the court, I have three sundry ways
received advertisements that the enemy
continueth his preparations very might
ily. The first report cometh by a man
of Dartmouth who very lately came
from St. Malos, and saith that he heard
it reported there by divers Frenchmen
returned home from Spain overland,

Elizabeth

19

that fifteen ships of that town, and as
many at least of Rosco, besides many
more of divers nations, are stayed
there; affirming that their fleet is in
number between four and five hundred
sail, ready furnished with seventy or
eighty thousand soldiers and mariners ;
and that for their better encouragement
the wages of all the companies is ad
vanced. . . .

4. Letters of Howard to Walsynbam.
June 14th.
. . , The opinion of Sir Francis
Drake, Mr. Hawkyns, Mr. Frobiser
and others that be men of greatest judg
ment and experience, as also my own
concurring with them in the same, is
that the surest way to meet ¦with the
Spanish fleet is upon their own coast,
or in any harbour of their own, and
there to defeat them. . . .
Sir, we have endured these three
days, Wednesday, Thursday and
Friday, an extreme continual storm.
Myself, and four or five of the greatest
ships, have ridden it out in the Sound,
because we had no room in Catwater,
for the lesser ships that were there ;
nor betwixt the shore and the Island,
because Sir Francis Drake, with four
or five other ships did ride there. My
self and my company in these ships do
continually tarry and lie aboard in all
the storm, where we may compare that
we have danced as lustily as the gal-
lantest dancers in the Court. Her
Majesty may be sure, what false and
villainous reports soever have been made
of them, she hath the strongest ships
that any prince in Christendom hath.
. . . Sir, I must not omit to let you
know how lovingly and kindly Sir
Francis Drake beareth himself ; and
also how dutifully to her Majesty' s ser
vice and unto me, being in the place
I am in ; which I pray you he may

receive thanks for, by some private
letter from you. . . .
Howard to Walsyngham.
July 6th.
. . . Sir, I sent a fine Spanish cara
vel an eight days agone to the Groyne
to learn intelligence, such a one as
would not have been mistrusted ; but
when she was fifty leagues away, this
southerly wind forced her back again
unto us. Therefore I pray you, if you
hear or understand of any news or ad
vertisements by land, that I may hear
of them from you with expedition.
I have divided myself here into three
parts, and yet we lie within sight one
of another, so as, if any of us do dis
cover the Spanish fleet, we give notice
thereof presently the one to the other,
and thereupon repair and assemble to
gether. I myself do lie in the middle
of the Channel, with the greatest force.
Sir Francis Drake hath twenty ships
and four or five pinnaces, which lie
toward Ushant ; and Mr. Hawkyns,
with as many more, lieth towards Scilly.
Thus are we fain to do, else with this
wind they might pass by and we never
the wiser. . . . But for my own part
I cannot persuade myself but that their
intent is for Ireland. Where there are
so many doubts we must proceed by the
likelier ways, and leave unto God to
direct for the best.
Howard to Walsyngham .
July 13th.
... I am very sorry to perceive by
your letter that her Majesty doth think
that we have not sufficiently sought to
understand some certainty of the Span
ish fleet. Sir, we are here to small
purpose for this great service, if that
hath not been thought of. Both before
my coming, by Sir Francis Drake, and
since my coming there hath been no
day but there hath been pinnaces,
Spanish caravels, flyboats, and of all

20

Elizabeth

sorts, sent out to discover there. . . .
We have at this time four pinnaces on
the coast of Spain. . . . God in his
mercy keep us from sickness, for we
fear that more than any hurt that the
Spaniards will do this fleet, if the
advertisements be true. . . .
Howard to Walsyngham. July 2 1 st.
Sir : I will not trouble you with any
long letter ; we are at this present
otherwise occupied than with writing.
Upon Friday, at Plymouth, I received
intelligence that there were a great
number of ships descried off of the
Lizard, whereupon, although the wind
was very scant, we first warped out of
harbour that night, and upon Saturday
turned out very hardly, the wind being
at southwest ; and about three of the
clock in the afternoon descried the
Spanish fleet, and did what we could
to work for the wind, which by this
morning we had recovered, descrying
their fleet to consist of 120 sail, whereof
there are 4 galeasses and many ships
of great burden.
At nine of the clock we gave them
fight, which continued until one. In
this fight we made some of them to
bear room to stop their leaks ; notwith
standing we durst not adventure to put
in among them, their fleet being so
strong. But there shall be nothing
either neglected or unhazarded that may
work their overthrow.
Sir, the captains in her Majesty's
ships have behaved themselves most
bravely and like men hitherto, and I
doubt not will continue, to their great
commendation. And so, recommend
ing our good success to your godly
prayers, I bid you heartily farewell.
From aboard the Ark, thwart of Ply
mouth, the 21st of July, 1588.
Your very loving friend,
C. Howard.

Sir, the southerly wind that brought
us back from the coast of Spain brought
them out. God blessed us with turn
ing us back. Sir, for the love of God
and our country, let us have with some
speed some great shot sent us of all
bigness ; for this service will continue
long ; and some powder with it.

5. Letter of Drake to Walsyngham. July 29th.
Right Honourable : This bearer came
aboard the ship I was in in a wonder
ful good time, and brought with him
as good knowledge as we could wish.
His carefulness therein is worthy
recompense, for that God hath given
us so good a day in forcing the enemy
so far to leeward, as I hope in God the
Prince of Parma and the Duke of
Sidonia shall not shake hands this few
days ; and whensoever they shall meet,
I believe neither of them will greatly
rejoice of this day's service. The
town of Calais hath seen some part
thereof, whose Mayor her Majesty is
beholden unto. Business commands
me to end. God bless her Majesty,
our gracious Sovereign, and give us all
grace to live in his fear. I assure your
Honour this day's service hath much
appalled the enemy, and no doubt but
encouraged our army. From aboard
her Majesty's good ship the Revenge,
this 29th of July, 1588.
Your Honour's most ready to be
commanded,
Fra. Drake.
There must be great care taken to
send us munition and victual witherso
ever the enemy goeth. Yours,
Fra. Drake.

6. Letter of Richard Tomson to
Walsyngham.
July 30th.
Since our first meeting of our ene
mies, which was on Sunday, the 21st

Elizabeth

21

of this present, we have had four en
counters, such as, the Lord be praised,
hath not a little daunted the minds of
our enemies, but much impaired their
great and unexpected forces, and to
very little or no detriment of our Eng
lish navy. At our first meeting of
them, which was within two miles of
Looe in Cornwall, they were 136 sail
of ships and pinnaces, whereof 90 were
very great ships, and the rest of smaller
account ; and at that time our English
navy was not above 67 sail. By God's
goodness and the good working of our
commanders, we got the wind of them,
which is a very great advantage and a
special safety for the weaker part ; and
ever since God hath so blessed us that
we have kept the same, to the great
annoyance of our enemies ; and by that
means we have so daily pursued them
at the heels, that they never had leisure
to stop in any place alongst our Eng
lish coast until they came within two
miles of Calais, where in the evening,
very politely, they came all upon a
sudden to an anchor, being Saturday
the 27th day, purposing that our ships
with the flood should be driven to lee
ward of them ; but in happy time it
was soon espied, and prevented by
bringing our fleet to an anchor also in
the wind of them.
The same night they sent ashore to
Calais and forthwith to the Duke of
Parma, advertising of their being there ;
and one received answer that he with
his forces would be in readiness upon
Tuesday following, and come and join
with them, with intent to come over
and land their forces in England, about
Margate in Vrent, as since I have
thoroughly learnt of the Spaniards that
were taken in the chief galleass that
the king had, hard under the jetty head
at Calais. It hath appeared by many
arguments that the Spaniards were not
evil welcome to Monsieur Gourdan and

the rest of his government, by permit
ting their messengers to go so speedily
between the Duke and that place, as
also by suffering the boats to go to and
from the shore so usually, all Sunday
the 28th of July, as they did ; and
most of all, by sending his kinsman
and lieutenant aboard the Duke of Me
dina with a great present ; whereof no
semblance was made at all unto our
Lord Admiral.
It -pleased my Lord Admiral to ap
point certain small ships to be fired
on Sunday about 1 2 of the clock at
night, and let drive with the flood
amongst the Spaniards ; which prac
tice, God be thanked, hath since turned
to our great good ; for it caused the
Spaniards to let slip their anchors and
cables, and confusedly to drive one
upon another ; whereby they were not
only put from their roadstead and place
where they meant to attend the coming
of the Duke of Parma, but did much
hurt one to another of themselves ; and
are now, by the earnest pursuit of our
Englishmen, very much weakened and
dispersed, the Lord be praised, so that
of the 1 24 sail that they were in Calais
Road, we cannot now find by any
account above 86 ships and pinnaces ;
so that I cannot conjecture but by the
furious assault that my Lord and his
associates gave them early on Monday
morning, and did continue in vehement
manner 8 hours, hath laid many- of
them in the bottom of the sea, or else
[caused them to] run with the coast of
Flanders to save their lives, though im
possible to save their great ships, by
reason of their evil harbours.
At the break of day upon Monday
morning, my Lord and all the fleet set
ting sail after our enemies, we espied
riding within shot of the town of
Calais the greatest of the king's galle
asses, the rest of the Spanish fleet
being two leagues to leeward of her.

22

Elizabeth

My Lord Admiral began to go toward
the galleass with his ship, the Ark, but
finding the water to be shallow, other
ships of less draught bare in with her
and shot at her, whereupon she let slip
and run the galleass aground hard be
fore the town.
In our ship, which was the Margaret
and John of London, we approached
so near that we came on ground also ;
but afterwards came safely off again
with the flood, being damaged by noth
ing but by the town of Calais, who, off
the bulwarks, shot very much at us,
and shot our ship twice through.
And the like powder and shot did
Monsieur Gourdan bestow upon sun
dry of our countrymen, and make us
relinquish the galleass, which other
wise we had brought away, being mas
ters of her above two hours, and gotten
by hard assault, to the great credit of
our country, if Monsieur Gourdan
herein had not shown his affection to
the Spaniards to be greater than our
nation, or seemed by force to wrest
from us that which we had gotten with
bloody heads.
My Lord Admiral, seeing he could
not approach the galleass with his
ship, sent off his long boat unto her
with 50 or 60 men, amongst whom
were many gentlemen as valiant in
courage as gentle in birth, as they well
showed. The like did our ship send
off her pinnace, with certain musket
eers, amongst whom myself went.
These two boats came hard under the
galleass sides, being aground, where
we continued a pretty skirmish with
our small shot against theirs, they being
ensconced within their ship and very
high over us, we in our open pinnaces
and far under them, having nothing to
shroud and cover us ; they being 300
soldiers, besides 450 slaves, and we
not, at the instant, 100 persons. With
in one half hour it pleased God, by

killing the captain with a musket shot,
to give us victory above all hope or ex
pectation ; for the soldiers leaped over
board by heaps on the other side, and
fled with the shore, swimming and
wading. Some escaped with being
wet ; some, and that very many, were
drowned. The captain of her was
called Don Hugo de Moncada, son to
the viceroy of Valencia. He being
slain, and the most part of their sol
diers fled, some few soldiers remaining
in her, seeing our English boats under
her sides and more of ours coming
rowing towards her, some with 10 and
some with 8 men in them, for all the
smallest shipping were the nearest the
shore, put up two handkerchiefs upon
two rapiers, signifying that they desired
truce. Hereupon we entered, with
much difficulty, by reason of her height
over us, and possessed us of her, by
the space of an hour and half as I
judge ; each man seeking his benefit of
pillage until the flood came, that we
might haul her off the ground and
bring her away.
It may please your Honour to under
stand that during our fight to get her,
the men of Calais stood in multitudes
upon the shore hard by us and behold
ing all things, showing themselves at
that instant indifferent lookers-on ; but
so soon as they saw us possessed of so
princely a vessel, the very glory and
stay of the Spanish army, a thing of
very great value and strength, as was
well known to them of Calais, for that
they had been on board twice or thrice
the day before ; I say, Monsieur Gour
dan, seeing us thus possessed, sent
aboard to us that were in her, in which
boat came his kinsman and another
captain, desiring to parle with us.
None being then in place that either
understood or spake French but myself,
I asked them from whom they came.
They answered, from Monsieur Gour-

Elizabeth,

23

dan, the Governor of Calais. I de
manded to know what his pleasure was.
They answered that he had stood and
beheld our fight and rejoiced of our
victory, saying that for our prowess and
manhood showed therein we had well
deserved the spoil and pillage of the
galleass, as a thing due unto us by
desert, and that he willingly consented
that we should have the pillage of her ;
further requiring and commanding us
not to offer to carry away either the
ship or ordnance, for that she was on
ground under the commandment of his
castles and town, and therefore did of
right appertain unto him. I answered
unto them that, for our parts, we
thanked Monsieur Gourdan for grant
ing the pillage to the mariners and
soldiers that had fought for the same ;
acknowledging that without his leave
and good will we could not carry away
anything of that we had gotten, con
sidering it lay on ground hard under his
bulwarks ; and that as concerning the
ship and ordnance, we prayed it would
please him to send a pinnace aboard my
Lord Admiral, who was here in person
hard by, from whom he should have an
honourable and friendly answer which
we all are to obey and give place unto.
With this answer, to my seeming they
departed well satisfied ; but since I have
understood that some of our rude men,
who make no account of friend or foe,
fell to spoiling the Frenchmen, taking
away their rings and jewels as from
enemies ; whereupon going ashore and
complaining, all the bulwarks and ports
were bent against us, and shot so
vehemently that we received sundry
shot very dangerously through us. If
this have not incensed Monsieur Gour
dan, I suppose that he will easily, upon
request made, either surrender all or
the better part of all things unto her
Majesty ; for the ship cannot be so little
worth, with her ordnance, as eighty

thousand crowns ; having in her four
whole cannons, 8 demi-cannons, 12
culverins and demi-culverins, 16 sakers
and minions, all of brass, 200 barrels of
powder, and of all other things great
provision and plenty ; but very little or
no treasure that I can learn to be in her.
This is the substance and very truth
of all that passed in this action. Being
thus departed from the galleasses, my
Lord with all the fleet pursued the
enemy, with all violent pursuit that our
ordnance and small shot could yield ;
little to our hurt, the Lord be praised,
but greatly to the detriment of the
enemy, as the bearer hereof, Mr. John
Watts of London, can amply inform
your Honour ; for he was present at
the doing of most of these things
happened within these two days, not
without danger enough of his person
both of cannon and musket shot, where
of his apparel beareth some tokens,
although it pleased God to spare his life.
At this instant we are as far to the east
ward as the Isle of Walcheren, wherein
Flushing doth stand, and about 12
leagues off the shore ; and the wind
hanging westerly, we drive our enemies
apace to the eastward, much marveling,
if the wind continue, in what port they
will direct themselves. Some imagine
the River of Hamburg, which is a bad
place for the receipt of ships of such
charge ; others suppose, because they
have yet provision of victuals for three
months, they will about Scotland, and
so for Spain. I trust her Majesty may,
by God's help, little fear any invasion
by these ships ; their power being, by
battle, mortality, and other accidents, so
decayed, and those that are left alive so
weak and hurtless, that they could be
well content to lose all charges to be at
home, both rich and poor. There is
want of powder, shot and victual,
amongst us, which causeth that we can
not so daily assault them as we would.

24

Elizabeth

God grant the want may in time be
supplied, that so necessary a service be
not neglected thereby. Thus I take my
humble leave of your Honour, to whom
Almighty God send all continuance of
health and increase of happiness.
Subscribed,
Richard Tomson.

make. [The fires did, however, come
from their own vessels. — Ed.] . . .

7. Letter of Sir William Wynter to
Walsyngham. August 1 .
. . . Upon Sunday, being the 28th
day, my Lord [Howard] put out his
flag of council early in the morning,
the armies both riding still ; and after
the assembly of the council it was con
cluded that the practice for the firing
of ships should be put in execution the
night following, and Sir Henry Palmer
was assigned to bear over presently in
a pinnace for Dover, to bring away
such vessels as were fit to be fired, and
materials apt to take fire. But because
it was seen, after his going, he could
not return that night, and occasion
would not be over slipped, it was
thought meet that we should help our
selves with such shipping as we had
there to serve our turn. So that, about
twelve of the clock that night, six ships
were brought and prepared [signalled]
with a saker shot, and going in a front,
having the wind and tide with them,
and their ordnance being charged,
were fired [z\ e., set fire to] ; and the
men that were the executors, so soon as
the fire was made they did abandon the
ships, and entered into five boats that
were appointed for the saving of them.
This matter did put such terror among
the Spanish army that they were fain
to let slip their cables and anchors ;
and did work, as it did appear, great
mischief among them by reason of the
suddenness of it. We might perceive
that there were two great fires more than
ours, and far greater and huger than
any of our vessels that we fired could

8. Letterof Howard to Lord Burleigh.
August 10.
My good Lord : — Sickness and mor
tality begins wonderfully to grow
among us ; and it is a most pitiful sight
to see, here at Margate, how the men,
having no place to receive them into
here, die in the streets. I am driven
myself, of force, to come a-land, to see
them bestowed in some lodging ; and
the best I can get is barns and such out
houses ; and the relief is small that I can
provide for them here It would grieve
any man' s heart to see them that have
served so valiantly to die so miserably.
The Elizabeth Jonas, which hath
done as well as ever any ship did in
any service, hath had a great infection
in her from the beginning, so as of the
500 men which she carried out, by the
time we had been in Plymouth three
weeks or a month there were dead of
them 200 and above ; so as I was
driven to set all the rest of her men
ashore, to take out her ballast, and to
make fires in her of wet broom, three
or four days together ; and so hoped
thereby to have cleansed her of her
infection ; and thereupon got new men,
very tall and able as ever I saw, and
put them into her. Now the infection
is broken out in greater extremity than
ever it did before, and the men die
and sicken faster than ever they did ;
so as I am driven of force to send her
to Chatham. We all think and judge
that the infection remaineth in the
pitch. Sir Roger Townshend, of all
the men he brought out with him, hath
but one left alive. . . .

9. Letter of Sir R. Bingham, Gov
ernor of Connaught, to the Queen.
Dec. 3rd, 158S.
Most gracious and dread Sover-

Elizabeth

25

eign : — My long silence in not ac
quainting your Majesty with the
occurrents of this your Highness' s
province hath proceeded rather through
fear to offend your Majesty by pressing
too far into your Highness' s presence
with my rude and uncomely letters.
. . . Albeit ... I have adventured
... to present your Highness now
with these humble and few lines, as a
thanksgiving to Almighty God for
these his daily preservations of your
sacred person, and the continual deliv
erance of us, your Majesty's subjects,
from the cruel and bloody hands of
your Highness' s enemies, and that
lastly from the danger of the Spanish
forces, defeated first by your Majesty's
navy in the Narrow Seas, and sithence
overthrown through the wonderful
handiwork of Almighty God, by great
and horrible shipwrecks upon the
coasts of this realm, and most upon the
parts and creeks of this province of
Connaught, where it hath pleased your
Majesty to appoint my service under
your Highness' s Lord Deputy. Their
loss upon this province, first and last,
and in several places, was twelve ships,
which all we know of, and some two
or three more supposed to be sunk to
seaboard of the out isles ; the men of
which ships did all perish in the sea,
save the number of 1100 or upward,
which we put to the sword ; amongst
whom there was divers gentlemen of
quality and service, as captains, mas
ters of ships, lieutenants, ensign-
bearers, other inferior officers and
young gentlemen, to the number of
some fifty, whose names I have for the
most part set down in a list, and have
sent the same unto your Majesty;
which being spared from the sword till
¦order might be had from the Lord Dep
uty how to proceed against them, I
had special direction sent me to see
them executed, as the rest were, only

reserving alive one, Don Luis de Cor
dova, and a young gentleman, his
nephew, till your Highness' s pleasure
be known. Other gentlemen of
special reckoning we had none, for the
Count Paredes and Don Alonzo de
Leyva, with other gentlemen, being
thrown ashore in Erris, the remotest
place in all this province, and their
ship all to broken, did afterwards by
chance embark themselves in another
of their ships and departed to sea ; but
being again driven back upon the
northern coast in Ulster, and from
thence putting to sea again, are sit-
hence, as I hear say, cast away about
the isles going for Scotland. My
brother George had one Don Graveillo
de Swasso and another gentleman, by
license, and some five or six Dutch
boys and young men, who coming
after the fury and heat of justice was
past, by entreaty I spared them, in
respect they were pressed into the
fleet against their wills, and did dis
pose them into several Englishmen's
hands, upon good assurance that they
should be forthcoming at all times.
And thus, God be praised, was all the
province quickly rid of those distressed
enemies. . . . But the Lord Deputy
. . . caused both these two Spaniards,
which my brother had, to be executed,
and the Dutchmen and boys which
were spared before, reserving none but
Don Luis and his nephew, whom I
have here. I was glad in one respect
that his Lordship should take his way
through Connaught, for that thereby
he might the better satisfy himself of
what we had before performed here,
and accordingly had written of. Other
wrecks they had both in Munster and
Ulster, which being out of my charge,
I have not so good notice of . . .
Your Highness' s most loyal
and humble soldier,
Ry. Bingham.

26

Elizabeth

GROUP IV.

THE END OF THE REIGN OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.

i. Extract from Bishop Goodman's
" Court of James I." (London, 1S39.)
Vol. I. p. 163.
... In the year '88, I did then live
at the upper end of the strand near St.
Clement's Church, when suddenly
there came a report unto us (it was in
December, much about five of the
clock at night, very dark) that the
Queen was gone to council, and if you
will see the Queen you must come
quickly. Then we all ran ; when the
Court gates were set open, and no man
did hinder us from coming in. There
we came where there was a far greater
company than was usually at Lenten
Sermons ; and when we had staid
there an hour and that the yard was
full, there being a number of torches,
the Queen came out in great state.
Then we cried: "God save your ma
jesty ! God save your majesty ! ' ' Then
the Queen turned unto us and said,
" God bless you all, my good people ! "
Then we cried again : " God save your
Majesty! God save your Majesty!"
Then the Queen said again unto us,
" You may well have a greater prince,
but you shall never have a more loving
prince:" and so looking one upon
another awhile the Queen departed.
This wrought such an impression upon
us, for shows and pageants are ever
best seen by torchlight, that all the way
long we did nothing but talk what an
admirable queen she was, and how we
would adventure our lives to do her
service. Now this was in a year when
she had most enemies, and how easily
might they have then gotten into the
crowd and multitude to have done her
a mischief. But here we were to come

in at the Court gates, and there was all
the danger of searching.
Take her then in her yearly journeys
at her coming to London, where you
must understand that she did desire to
be seen and to be magnified ; but in
her old age she had not only wrinkles,
but she had a goggle throat — a great
gullet hanging out, as her grandfather
Henry the Seventh is ever painted
withal ; for in young people the glan-
dels do make all things seem smooth
and fair, but in old people, the glandels
being shrunk, the gullet doth make a
little deformity. And, truly, there was
then a report that the ladies had gotten
false looking-glasses, that the Queen
might not see her own wrinkles ; for
having been exceeding beautiful and
fair in her youth, such beauties are ever
aptest for wrinkles in old age.

2. Extract from the Memoirs of
Cary, Earl of Monmouth. (Published
in Edinborough, 1808.)
x593- [Cary had offended Elizabeth
by marrying.]
I made all the haste I could to court,
which was then at Hampton Court. I
arrived there on St. Stephen's day in
the afternoon. Dirty as I was, I came
into the presence, where I found the
lords and ladies dancing. The Queen
was not there. My father [Lord Huns-
don] went to the Queen to let her
know that I was returned. She willed
him to take my message or letters and
bring them to her. He came for them,
but I desired him to excuse me ; for
that which I had to say, either by word
or by writing, I must deliver myself.
. He acquainted her Majesty with

Elizabeth

27

my resolution. With much ado I was
called for in ; and I was left alone with
her. Our first encounter was stormy
and terrible, which I passed over with
silence. After she had spoken her
pleasure of me and my wife, I told
her that "she herself was the fault of
my marriage, and that if she had but
graced me with the least of her favours,
I had never left her, nor her court ;
and seeing she was the chief cause of
my misfortune, I would never off my
knees till I had kissed her hand, and
obtained my pardon." She was not
displeased with my excuse, and before
we parted we grew good friends.
Then I delivered my message and my
papers, which she took very well, and
at last gave me thanks for the pains I
had taken. So having her princely
word that she had pardoned and for
gotten all faults, I kissed her hand, and
come forth to the presence, and was in
the court as I was ever before.

3. Paul Hentzer's Journey into Eng
land in 1598. (From Fugitive Pieces
by several Authors. Dublin, 1762.
Page 266 ff.)
Upon taking the Air down the River,
the first Thing that struck us, was the
Ship of that noble Pirate, Sir Francis
Drake, in which he is said to have sur
rounded this Globe of Earth. On the
left Hand lies Ratcliffe, a considerable
Suburb : On the opposite Shore is
fixed a long Pole with Rams horns
upon it, the intention of which was
vulgarly said to be, a Reflexion upon
wilful and contented Cuckolds.
We arrived next at the Royal Palace
of Greenwich, reported to have been
originally build by Humphrey, Duke
of Gloucester, and to have received
very magnificent Additions from Henry
VII. It was here Elizabeth, the pres
ent queen, was born, and here she gen

erally resides ; particularly in Summer,
for the Delightfulness of its Situation.
We were admitted by an Order Mr.
Rogers had procured from the Lord
Chamberlain, into the Presence-Cham
ber, hung with rich Tapestry, and the
Floor after the English Fashion, strewed
with Hay,* through which the Queen
commonly passes in her way to Chapel :
At the Door stood a Gentleman dressed
in Velvet, with a Gold Chain, whose
Office was to introduce to the' Queen
any Person of Distinction, that came to
wait on her : It was Sunday, when
there is usually the greatest Attendance
of Nobility. In the same Hall were
the Archbishop of Canterbury, the
Bishop of London, a great Number of
Councellors of State, Officers of State,
Officers of the Crown, and Gentlemen,
who waited the Queen's coming out;
which she did from her own Apart
ment, when it was Time to go to
Prayers, attended in the following
manner : —
First went Gentlemen, Barons, Earls,
Knights of the Garter, all richly dressed
and bareheaded ; next came the Chan
cellor, bearing the Seals in a red Silk
Purse, between two : One of which
carried the Royal Scepter, the other the
Sword of State, in a red scabbard,
studded with golden Fleurs de Lis, the
Point upwards : Next came the Queen,
in the Sixty-fifth year of her Age, as
we were told, very Majestic ; her Face
oblong, fair, but wrinkled ; her Eyes
small, yet black and pleasant ; her Nose
a little hooked ; her Lips narrow, and
her Teeth black (a Defect the English
seem subject to, from their too great
Use of Sugar) ; she had in her Ears
two Pearls, with very rich Drops ; she
wore false Hair, and that red ; upon
her Head she had a small Crown, re
ported to be of some of the Gold of the
celebrated Lunebourg Table : Her
* He probably means Rushes.

28

Elizabeth

Bosom was uncovered, as all the Eng
lish Ladies have it, till they marry ;
and she had on a Necklace of exceeding
fine Jewels ; her Hands were small, her
Fingers long and her Stature neither
tall nor low ; her Air was stately, her
manner of speaking mild and obliging.
That Day she was dressed in white Silk,
bordered with Pearls of the Size of
Beans, and over it a Mantle of black
Silk, shot with silver Threads; her
Train was very long, the End of it
borne by a Marchioness ; instead of a
Chain, she had an oblong Collar of
Gold and Jewels. As she went along
in all this State and Magnificence, she
spoke very graciously, first to one, then
to another, whether foreign Ministers,
of those who attended for different
Reasons, in English, French and Ital
ian ; for, besides being well skilled in
Greek, Latin and the Languages I have
mentioned, she is Mistress of Spanish,
Scotch and Dutch : Whoever speaks
to her, it is kneeling ; now and then she
raises some with her Hand. While we
were there, W. Slawata, a Bohemian
Baron, had letters to present to her ; and
she, after pulling off her Glove, gave
him her right Hand to kiss, sparkling
with Rings and Jewels, a Mark of par
ticular Favour : Wherever she turned
her Face, as she was going along,
everybody fell down on their knees.
The Ladies of the Court followed next
to her, vei'y handsome and well-shaped,
and for the most Part dressed in white ;
she was guarded on each Side by the
Gentlemen Pensioners, fifty in Number,
with gilt Battleaxes. In the Ante-
chapel next the Hall where we were,
Petitions were presented to her, and
she received them most graciously,
which occasioned the Acclamation of,
" Long live Queen Elizabeth ! " She
answered it with, "I thank you my
good People." In the Chapel was ex
cellent Music ; as soon as it and the

Service was over, which scarce ex
ceeded half an Hour, the Queen re
turned in the same State and Order, and
prepared to go to Dinner. But while
she was still at Prayers, we saw her
Table set out with the following So
lemnity. A Gentleman entered the Room bear
ing a Rod, and along with him another
who had a Tablecloth, which after they
had both kneeled three Times, with the
utmost veneration, he spread upon the
Table, and after kneeling again, they
both retired. Then came two others,
one with the Rod again, the other with
a Salt-seller, a Plate and Bread ; when
they had kneeled, as the others had
done, and placed what was brought
upon the Table, they too retired with
the same Ceremonies performed by the
first. At last came an unmarried Lady
(we were told she was a Countess) , and
along with her a married one bearing a
Tasting-knife ; the former was dressed
in white Silk ; who, when she had
prostrated herself three Times, in the
most graceful Manner, approached the
Table, and rubbed the Plates with Bread
and Salt, with as much Awe as if the
Queen had been present. When they
had waited there a little while, the Yeo
men of the Guard entered, bareheaded,
cloathed in Scarlet, with a golden Rose
upon their Backs, bringing in at each
Turn a Course of twenty-four Dishes,
served in Plate most of it Gilt ; these
Dishes were received by a Gentleman
in the same Order they were brought,
and placed upon the Table, while the
Lady taster gave to each of the Guard
a mouthful to eat, of the particular Dish
he had brought, for Fear of any Poison.
During the Time that this Guard, which
consists of the tallest and stoutest Men
that can be found in England, being
carefully selected for this Service, were
bringing Dinner, twelve Trumpets, and
two Kettledrums made the Hall ring

GuglielmoConteSlaua taco>ts7secr.etodiStato, e CamTdeleImperatoreFerh
dinando Secondo Gran Can
CELLIERODEE REGNO DlBoEMlAic

Elizabeth

29

for half an Hour together. At the End
of this Ceremonial a number of unmar
ried Ladies appeared, who, with par
ticular Solemnity, lifted the Meat off
the Table, and conveyed it into the
Queen's inner and more private Cham
ber, where, after she had chosen for
herself, the rest goes to the Ladies of
the Court.
The Queen dines and sups alone with
very few Attendants ; and it is very sel
dom that anybody, Foreigner or Na
tive, is admitted at that Time, and then
only at the Intercession of somebody in
Power. . . .
. . . We left London in a coach in
order to see the remarkable places in
its neighborhood. . . .
Windsor, a Royal Castle, supposed
to have been begun by King Arthur,
its buildiflgs much increased by Ed
ward III. The Situation is entirely
worthy of being a Royal Residence, a
more beautiful being scarce to be
found : For from the Brow of a gentle
Rising it enjoys the Prospect of an
even and green Country ; its Front
commands a valley extending every
Way, and chequered with arable Lands
and Pasturage, cloathed up and down
with Groves, and watered by that gen
tlest of Rivers the Thames ; behind
the several Hills, but neither steep nor
very high, crowned with Woods, and
seeming designed by Nature herself for
the purpose of Hunting. . . .
This Castle besides being the Royal
Palace, and having some magnificent
Tombs of the Kings of England, is
famous for the ceremonies belonging to
the Knights of the Garter. This Order
was instituted by Edward III., the same
who triumphed so illustriously over
King John of France. The Knights
of the Garter are strictly chosen for
their military Virtues, and Antiquity of
Family : They are bound by solemn
Oath and Vow to mutual and perpetual

Friendship among themselves, and to
the not avoiding any Danger whatever,
or even Death itself, to support by their
joint Endeavours the Honour of the So
ciety : They are stiled, Companions of
the Garter, from their wearing below
the left knee a purple Garter, inscribed
in letters of Gold, with " Honi soit qui
mal y pense," i. e., Evil to him that
evil thinks : This they wear upon the
left Leg, in Memory of one which hap
pening to untie, was let fall by a great
Lady, passionately beloved by Edward,
while she was dancing, and was imme
diately snatched up by the King ; who,
to do Honour to the Lady, not out of
any trifling Gallantry, but with a most
serious and honorable Purpose, dedi
cated it to the Legs of the most distin
guished Nobility. The Ceremonies of
this Society are celebrated every Year
at Windsor on St. George's Day, the
tutelar Saint of the Order, the King
presiding ; and the Custom is, that the
Knights Companions should hang up
their Helmet and Shield, with their
Arms blazoned on it, in some conspic
uous Part of the Church. . . .
The English are serious like the Ger
mans, Lovers of Shew ; liking to be
followed wherever they go by whole
Troops of Servants, who wear their
Master's Arms in Silver, fastened to
their left Arms, a Ridicule they deserv
edly lay under : they excel in Dancing
and Music, for they are active and live
ly, though of a thicker Make than the
French ; they cut their Hair close on
the Middle of the Head, letting it grow
on either Side ; they are good Sailors,
and better Pirates, Cunning, Treacher
ous and Thievish : above 300 are said to
be hanged annually at London ; be
heading with them is less infamous
than hanging ; they give the Wall as
the Place of Honour; hawking is the
general Sport of the Gentry ; they are
more polite in Eating than the French,

3Q

Elizabeth

devouring less Bread, but more Meat,
which they roast in Perfection ; they
put a great deal of Sugar in their
Drink ; their Beds are covered with
Tapestry, even those of Farmers ; they
are often molested with the Scurvy,
said to have first crept into England
¦with the Norman Conquest ; their
Houses are commonly of two Stories,
except in London, where they are of
three and four, though but seldom of
four ; they are built of Wood, those of
the richer sort with Bricks, their Roofs
are low, and where the Owner has
Money, covered with Lead.
They are powerful in the Field, suc
cessful against their enemies, impatient
of anything like Slavery ; vastly fond
of great Noises that fill the Ear, such
as the firing of Cannon, Drums, and
the ringing of Bells, so that it is com
mon for a number of them, that have
got a Glass in their Heads, to go up
into some Belfry, and ring the Bells
for Hours together, for the sake of Ex
ercise. If they see a Foreigner, very well
made or particularly handsome, they
will say, It is a pity he is not an Eng
lishman.

4. Extract from Goodman, Court of
King James I. (Vol. I. p. 17.) 1699.
. . . Duke Prussiano, a very courte
ous and brave nobleman, did resolve
to come over to see England, and to
come in a private way. Our ambassa
dor in France, hearing thereof, gave
notice to our secretary, who acquaint
ing her majesty therewith, order was
taken that one should come in his com
pany, to be a spy upon him, to know
his lodging and to discover his person.'
The duke (as the fashion was) came
to the court upon a Sunday, to see the
Queen go to the chapel. The Queen
having notice of this, and knowing
him by one that stood next to him, as

she came by took some occasion to call
the lord chamberlain, as I take it, to
tie her shoe-strings, or to do some such
like office ; and there making a stay,
she took the duke by the hand, who
followed her into the privy chamber.
She did then graciously use him, and
after feasted him, and gave him great
entertainment, which was very well
taken by the French king and queen :
and then did the Queen dance a gal-
liard very comely, and like herself, to
show the vigour of her old age. He
that would relate those private danc
ings should not have forgotten this, so
famous and so well-known ; for even
the Italians did then say that it was a
wonder to see an old woman, the head
of the church, being seventy years of
age, to dance in that manner and to
perform her part so well. .• . .

5. Extracts from State Papers, 1601,
concerning the conspiracy of Essex.
J. Speech of Cecil in the Star
Chamber.
As the declining of the sun brings
general darkness, so her Majesty's hurt
is our continual night, and although
the one by course of nature may be re
newed, yet the other will hardly be
matched in any future age ; how odious
then ought they to be in the eye of all
good subjects, that have sought the
utter ruin of so blessed a sovereign !
The principal author thereof, that trait
orous Earl of Essex, more like a
monster than a man, has most ungrate
fully requited his most gracious Prin
cess. Being but a boy in years and a
child in experience, he has been graced
with more than common dignities.
Her Highness first made him master
of the horse, then master of her ord
nance, and first a member and then
president of her Privy Council. After
wards, besides many other private gifts

Elizabeth

3i

of value, amounting to not less than
300,ooo£, she advanced him to the
dignity of Earl Marshal and confirmed
him Lord General of her forces in
Ireland ; where how traitorously he
behaved himself, I would his own soul
might be judge.
In all this flourishing time of these
ill-deserved preferments, his head was
hatching confusion to her person, and
the whole state of his country. . . .
Though he has as in a false glass pre
sented his discontents to the view of
the world, yet we know that these seven
years he has intended treason, strength
ening himself, with vulgar opinions,
and the hearts of such subjects as, by
affability and promises of gifts he was
able to maintain. . . . He came over
from Ireland so unexpectedly to remove
such from the Queen as he misliked,
and could not bend to his traitorous
faction ; then Tyrone and he were to
join their forces, and by destroying her
Majesty, Essex to be made sole King
of England. 2. Directions for Preachers.
Amongst all the treasons that have
happened in this kingdom none can be
found more detestable than this wicked
purpose of the Earl of Essex, now in
the Tower, to set the crown of Eng
land upon his own head. . . . All this
time he has carried himself after a very
insolent and ambitious sort, especially
for six or seven years past. . . .
If he had not been prevented, there
had never been a rebellion in England
since Richard II. more desperate or
dangerous. The rebellion in the North
was far off, and thereby not so peril
ous. The great Armada of Spain was
but a thunderclap, the noise being
greater than the danger, and her
Majesty's subjects faithfully united to
encounter it. . . . The Earl of Essex
had so possessed this villain's (Thomas

Lea's) heart that, last Thursday night,
between 9 and 10 p. m. he pressed to
the privy chamber door and remained
there almost an hour, with the reso
lution that when her Highness came
forth to supper in the privy chamber,
he would seize upon her person, until
she had signed a warrant for the Earl's
deliverance. 3. John Chamberlain to Dudley
Carleton.
. . . Tom Lea traitorously attempted
to possess himself of the privy cham
ber ; he told his enterprise to Sir Henry
Neville . . . and to Sir Robert Crosse,
who both revealed it. . . . When ar
raigned and confronted by Sir Robt.
Crosse and the rest, he said he only
meant to vex her for half an hour, that
she might live the merrier all her life
after ; and in this tune he died very
resolutely on the 17th at Tyburn. . . .
4. Confession of Essex.
. . . The late Earl . . . acknowl
edged with thankfulness that he was
thus justly spewed out of the realm.
He publicly in his prayer and protes
tation, as also privately aggravated the
detestation of his sin, and especially in
the hearing of them that were present
at the execution, desiring God to for
give him his great, bloody, crying and
infectious sin, which word infectious
he had privately explained to us was a
leprosy which had infected far and

6. The Death of Elizabeth. (From
Camden,) 1603.
The Queen, who had hitherto enjoyed
a good stock of health, through her
exact temperance both as to wine and
diet (which she used to say was the
noblest part of physick) being in her
climacterical year, viz., the 70th year
of her age, began to perceive in herself

32

Elizabeth

some weakness and decay of health and
spirits, and the ill weather increased her
indisposition ; till on the last of January,
which prov'd a very stormy day, she
removed from Westminster to Rich
mond, to enjoy there the remains of life
with more freedom, and better oppor
tunities for the service of God. . . .
The Courtiers made it their observation
that the Queen was never more constant
to the service of the chappel than at
present. They likewise report that she
then commanded the ring in which she
had been espoused in form to her king
dom at her coronation, and had never
been took off before, to be filed from her
finger, because it was so grown into the
flesh that it could not be got off any
other way. And this was looked upon
as a very melancholy omen and portend
ing no less than a dissolution of her
marriage with the state, which by that
emblem she had contracted. In the be
ginning of her sickness the almonds of
her throat swelled, but soon came down
again. After that her appetite went off
by degrees and she gave herself to a
melancholy. . . . The Queen looked
upon herself as an helpless and aban
doned person, and would, in an excess
of passion, drop now and then an
expression to this purpose: "They
have now got me in a yoak ; I have
nobody left that I can trust : and my
condition is the very reverse of what it
was." And to imbitter her sorrows yet
more, they persuaded her that she had
lost much of her interest in the hearts of
her people. . . . As soon as the rumour
was confirmed that the Queen's illness
increased upon her, and that she was
now greatly averse to physick, as indeed
she had ever appeared in her younger
days, 'tis hardly credible with how for
ward a zeal, all ranks and conditions of
men, puritans, papists and others . . .
hasted away . . . into Scotland, to pay

their adorations to the rising sun, the
young king : whose pretensions the
Queen always favoured at the bottom.
... In the beginning of March she
was seized with a kind of stupour or
heaviness, joined with a pettishness
common enough to antient persons.
. . . On the 24th of March (1603),
being the eve of the annunciation, she
enjoyed a blessed remove from this'
world to a better . . . after a glorious
reign of 44 years and 4 months and in
the 70th year of her age ; a period never
yet attained by any of the kings of
England. 7. Letter of John Chamberlain, Esq.,
to Dudley Carleton, Esq. (In Court
and Times of James I. Lond. 1848.)
March 30th, 1603.
... I make no question but you
have heard of our great loss before this
comes to you. ... I had good means
to understand how the world went, and
find her disease to be nothing but a
settled and unremoveable melancholy.
... It can not be said of her, as it was
of the Emperor Hadrian, that turba
medicorum occidit regem ; for they say
she died only for lack of physic. There
was some whispering that her brain
was somewhat distempered, but there
was no such matter ; only she held an
obstinate silence for the most part, and
because she had a persuasion that if she
once laid down she should never rise,
could not be gotten to bed in a whole
week till three days before her death.
So that, after three weeks' languishing,
she departed the 24th of this present,
being our Lady's Eve, between two and
three in the morning. . . . She made
no will, nor gave anything away, so
that they which come after shall find a
well-furnished house, a rich wardrobe
of more than two thousand gowns, with
all things else answerable.

KING JAMES, q_UEEN ANNE, PRINCE CHARLES, PRINCE HENRY.
(Engraved early in this century from an original of Crispin de Passe.)

James I.

33

GROUP V.
CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS OF JAMES I.

I. Extracts from Sully's Memoirs
(Bohn Edition, 1856. Vol. II. p. 364).
The King of England, who had be
fore acquainted me that he would grant
me an audience on the 22nd [June,
1603], which was Sunday, sent a gen
tleman to confirm it to me, to desire I
would not think the time tedious, and
to be informed how I was lodged, and
whether I wanted anything. To this
favor was also added a present of half
a buck, which, as this prince informed
me by the bearer, he had killed that
day, and was the first he had ever taken
in his life, though he was a great lover
of the chase ; the reason was, there
being very few in Scotland, and this
the first he had hunted in England.
From hence he took occasion to make
Henry [IV.] a compliment, by saying
that he attributed his good fortune to
the arrival of a man, who came from
a prince that was looked upon to be
the king of hunters. I replied . . .
that when the king my master made
a party for the chase, he was so far
from thinking, like the King of Eng
land, that my presence would con
tribute to its success, that he generally
sent me to pursue other affairs in the
cabinet, where, he said, I was more
happy. Though there was nothing
serious in all this, I was nevertheless
glad of the opportunity that was af
forded me to insinuate myself into his
Britannic majesty's favour, and with
this view I turned my compliment in
such a manner as might please the self-
complacency of James, who, I very
well knew, was extremely flattered by
any comparison with the King of
France. . . .
One part of the orders I had given
with regard to the ceremony of my

audience, was, that all my retinue
should appear in mourning, to execute
with propriety the first part of my
commission, which consisted in com
plimenting the new king on the death
of Elizabeth, though I had been in
formed at Calais that no one, whether
ambassador, foreigner, or English, was
admitted into the presence of the new
king in black ; and Beaumont had since
represented to me, that what I in
tended would most certainly be highly
disagreeable to the court, where so
strong an affectation prevailed to oblit
erate the memory of that great princess
that she was never spoken of, and even
the mention of her name industriously
avoided. I should have been very glad not to
have been sensible of the necessity I
was laid under of appearing in a garb
which would seem to cast a reproach
on the king and all England ; but my
orders hereupon were positive, not to
mention that they were almost laudable :
and this was the reason I paid no regard
to Beaumont's representations, who en
treated me to defer putting myself to
this trouble and expense till he had
written about it to Erskine and some
others, who were best acquainted with
the court ceremonials. He wrote ac
cordingly, but received no answer on
Thursday, Friday, nor even on Satur
day ; and I still persisted in my resolu
tion notwithstanding the reasons which
he continually gave me to tfie contrary.
On Saturday night, which was the even
ing of the day preceding my audience,
and so late that I was in bed, Beaumont
came to tell me that Erskine had sent to
acquaint him that the whole court con
sidered my intention as a premeditated
affront, and that I had so offended the

34

James I.

king by it, that nothing would more
effectually prevent the success of my
negotiation, from its very commence
ment. This information agreeing with
that of Lord Sydney, the Viscount de
Saraot, La Fontaine and the States'
deputies, it was impossible for me to
be in doubt about it ; and, through fear
lest a greater evil should ensue, I caused
all my retinue to change their apparel,
and provide themselves others as well
as they could. Lewkenor coming the
next morning to inform me that I should
be presented to the king at three o'clock
in the afternoon, I perceived, from the
satisfaction which he expressed at the
new orders I had given, that it was
indispensably necessary to vanquish
my repugnance ; nevertheless it publicly
gained me almost as much honour as if
I had persisted in my intention, because
none were ignorant that I had complied
only through absolute necessity. . . .
What was most remarkable in my
reception on Sunday, the 29th'of June,
was, that all the gentlemen of my
retinue had the honour of being treated
with a dinner by his majesty, and I
had that of being admitted to his own
table. In pursuance of His Majesty's
directions, I arrived at Greenwich about
ten o'clock in the morning, and was
present with him at divine service, in
which there was a sermon. He said
nothing particular to me from the time
of my arrival till our sitting down to
table ; the conversation turned almost
entirely upon the chase and the weather ;
the heat was excessive, and much more
violent than was usual at London in
this month. Only Beaumont and my
self sat with James at table, where I
was not a little surprised to see that he
was always served on the knee ; a sur-
tout in form of a pyramid was placed
in the middle of the table, which con
tained most costly vessels, and was even
enriched with diamonds.

The conversation continued the same
as before, during great part of the en
tertainment ; but an opportunity offer
ing for the king to speak of the late
Queen of England, he did it, and to
my great regret, with some sort of con
tempt ; he even boasted of the dexterity
which he had employed to manage her
by means of her own councillors, all of
whom, he said, he had gained over dur
ing her life, so that they did nothing
but what was agreeable to him ; that it
was, therefore, not at this time only he
governed England, but several years be
fore the death of the late Queen, whose
memory did not seem agreeable to him.
He then called for some wine, his cus
tom being never to mix water with it,
and holding the glass in his hand toward
Beaumont and myself, he drank to the
health of the King, the Queen and the
royal family of France. I returned him
his health, and that too without for
getting his children. He inclined him
self to my ear when he heard me name
them, and told me softly, that the next
health he would drink should be to the
double union which he meditated be
tween the royal houses. He had never
till now said a single word to me about
this ; and I thought the opportunity
which he had thus taken for it was not
extremely well chosen. I failed not,
however, to receive the proposal with
all possible marks of joy, and replied
softly that I was certain Henry would
not hesitate in his choice between his
good brother and ally, and the King of
Spain, who had before applied to him
upon the same subject. James, sur
prised at what I told him, informed
me in his turn, that Spain had made
him the same offers of the Infanta for
his son, as she had to France for the
Dauphin. At last he quitted the com
pany to go to bed, where he usually
passed part of the afternoon, and some
times even the whole of it.

James I.

35

2. Sir Anthony Weldon's Character
of King James I. First published in
1650. (In Smeeton's Historical and
Biographical Tracts, Vol. I. London,
1820.) This King's Character is much easier
to take than his Picture, for he could
never be brought to sit for the taking
of that, which is the reason of so few
good pieces of him ; but his Character
was obvious to every eye.
He was of middle stature, more cor
pulent through his cloathes then in his
body, yet fat enough, his cloathes ever
being made large and easie, the doublets
quilted for steletto proof, his Breeches
in plates, and full stuffed. He was
naturally of a timorous disposition,
which was the reason of his quilted
doublets, his eye large ever rowling
after any stranger came in his presence,
in so much, who that for shame have
left the room, as being out of counte
nance ; his beard was very thin ; his
tongue too large for his mouth, which
ever made him drink very uncomely,
as if eating his drink, which came out
into the cup of each side his mouth ;
his skin was as soft as Taffeta Sarsnet,
which felt so, because he never washt
his hands, only rub'd his fingers' ends
slightly, with the wet-end of a Napkin ;
his legs were very weak, having as was
thought some foul play in his youth, or
rather before he was born, that he was
not able to stand at seven years of age,
that weakness made him ever leaning
on other men's shoulders; his walk
was ever circular ... ; he was very
intemperate in his drinking ; however
in his old age, and Buckingham' j jovial
Suppers, when he had any turn to do
with him, made him sometimes over
taken, which he would the very next
day remember, and repent with tears.
It is true that he drank very often, which
was rather out of a custom than any
delight, and his drinks were of that

kind of strength as Frontiniack, Canary,
High Canary wine, Tent wine and
Scottish Ale, that had he not had a
very strong brain, might have daily
been overtaken, although he seldom
drank at any one time above four spoon
fuls, many times not above one or two ;
he was very constant in all things, his
Favorites excepted, in which he loved
change, yet he never cast down any one
he once raised from the height of great
ness, though from their wanted near
ness and privacy ; unless by their own
default, by opposing his change, as in
Somerset' s case:, yet had he not been
in that foui poisoning business, and so
cast down himself ; I do verily believe
not him neither ; for all his other Favor
ites he left great in Honor, great in
Fortune ; and did much love Mount-
gotnery, and trusted him more at the
very last gasp, then in the first minute
of his Favoriteship : in his Dyet, Ap
parel, and Journeys, was very constant ;
in his apparel so constant, as by his
good will he would never change his
cloathes till very ragges : his fashion
never ; insomuch as a man bringing to
him a Hat of a Spanish B.lock, he cast
it from him, swearing he neither loved
them nor their fashions. Another time,
bringing him Roses on his Shoes, asked
if they would make him a ruff-footed-
Dove ? one yard of six penny Ribbond
served that turn : his Dyet and Journeys
were so constant, that the best observ
ing Courtier of our time was wont to
say, was he asleep seven years, and
then awakened, he would tell where
the King every day had been, and every
dish he had had at his Table.
He was not very uxorious, though he
had a very brave Queen that never
crossed his designs, nor intermeddled
with State affaires, but ever complyed
with him, against the nature of any;
but of a mild spirit in the change of
favorites ; for he was ever best when

36

James I.

furthest from the Queen, and that was
thought to be the first grounds of his
often removes which afterwards proved
habitual. He was unfortunate in the
marriage of his Daughter, and so was
all Christendom besides ; but sure the
Daughter was more unfortunate in a
Father than he in a Daughter ; he
naturally loved not the sight of a Soldier,
nor of any valiant man. . . . He was
very witty, and had as many witty jests
as any man living at which he would
not smile himself, but deliver them in
a grave and serious manner. He was
very liberal, of what he had not in his
own gripe, and would rather part with
JEioo he never had in his keeping, than
one twenty-shilling piece within his
own custody : He spent much, and had
much use of his subjects' puises, which
bred some clashing with them in Par
liament. . . .
He would make a great deal too bold
with God in his passion, both in curs
ing and swearing, and one strain higher,
verging on blasphemy ; But would in
his better temper say, he hoped God
would not impute them as sins. . . .
He was infinitely inclined to prayer,
but more out of fear then conscience ;
and this was the greatest blemish this
King had through all his reign, other
wise he might have been ranked with
the very best of our Kings. . . .
In a word, take him altogether and
not in pieces, such a King I wish this
Kingdom have never any worse, on
the condition, not any better ; for he
lived in peace, dyed in peace, and left
all his Kingdoms in a peaceable con
dition, with his own Motto : Beati
Pacifica. 3. A Counterblast to Tobacco.
Pamphlet written by James I. (In
Arber English Reprints. London,
1869.) Spelling modernized.
. . . And now good Countrymen let
us (I pray you) consider, what honor

or policy can move us to imitate the
barbarous and beastly manners of the
wild, godless and slavish Indians, espe
cially in so vile and stinking a custom ?
Shall we that disdain to imitate the
manners of our neighbor France (hav
ing the style of the first Christian king
dom) and that cannot endure the spirit
of the Spaniards (their King being
now comparable in largeness of Domin
ions to the great Emperor of Turkey) :
Shall we, I say, that have been so long
civil and wealthy in peace, famous and
invincible in war, fortunate in both,
we that have been ever able to aid any
of our neighbors (but never deafed any
of their ears with any of our supplica
tions for assistance) shall we, I say,
without blushing, abase ourselves so
far as to imitate these beastly Indians,
slaves to the Spaniards, refuse to the
world, and as yet aliens from the holy
Covenant of God ? Why do we not
as well imitate them in walking naked
as they do ? in preferring glasses,
feathers, and such toys, to gold and
precious stones as they do ? yea why
do we not deny God and adore the
Devil as they do ?
Now to the corrupted baseness of the
first use of this tobacco doth very well
agree the foolish and groundless first
entry thereof into this Kingdom. It is
not so long since the first entry of this
abuse amongst us here as [that] this
present age cannot yet very well re
member, both the first author and the
form of the first introduction of it
among us. It was neither brought in
by King, great Conqueror, nor learned
Doctor of Physic.
With the report of a great discovery
for a Conquest, some two or three
savage men were brought in, together
with this savage custom. But the pity
is, the poor wild barbarous men died,
but that vile barbarous custom is yet
alive, yea in fresh vigor : so as it seems

James I.

37

a miracle to me, how a custom spring
ing from so vile a ground, and brought
in by a father so generally hated,
[Raleigh] should be welcomed upon
so slender a warrant . . .
. . . This tobacco is not simply of
a dry and hot quality, but rather hath
a certain venomous faculty joined with
the heat thereof, which makes it have
an antipathy against nature, as by the
hateful smell thereof doth well appear.
For the nose being the proper organ
and convoy of the sense of smelling
to the brains, which are the only foun
tain of that sense, doth ever serve us
for an infallible witness whether that
odor which we smell be healthful or
hurtful to the brain. . . .
The second argument grounded on
a show of reason is, that this filthy
smoke, as well through the heat and
strength thereof, as by a natural force
and quality, is able to purge both the
head and stomach of rheums and dis
tillations, as experience teacheth, by
the spitting and avoiding phlegm imme
diately after the taking of it. But the
fallacy of this argument may easily ap
pear. . . . This stinking smoke being
sucked up by the nose and imprisoned
in the cold and moist brains, is, by their
cold and wet faculty, turned and cast
forth again in watery distillations, and
so are you made free and purged of
nothing but that wherewith you wil
fully burdened yourselves. . . .
As for the other two reasons founded
upon experience, the first of which is,
that the whole people would not have
taken so general a good liking thereof
if they had not by experience found it
very sovereign and good for them : for
answer thereunto how easily the minds
of any people, wherewith God had
replenished this world, may be drawn
to the foolish affectation of any novelty,
I leave it to the discreet judgment of
any man that is reasonable. Do we

not daily see that a man can no sooner
bring over from beyond the seas any
new form of apparel but that he cannot
be thought a man of spirit that would
not presently imitate the same? And
so from hand to hand it spreads, till it
be practised by all, not for any com
modity there is in it but only because
it is come to be the fashion. . . .
Many in this Kingdom have had such
a continual use of taking this unsavory
smoke, as now they are not able to
forbear the same, no more than an old
drunkard can abide to be long sober,
without falling into an uncurable weak
ness. ... It is, as you use or rather
abuse it, a branch of the sin of drunk-
eness, which is the root of all sins : for
as the only delight that drunkards take
in wine is in the strength of the taste,
and the force of the fume thereof that
mounts up to the brain : for no drunk
ards love any weak or sweet drink : so
are not those (I mean the strong heat
and the fume) the only qualities that
make tobacco so delectable to all the
lovers of it? . . .
And for the vanities committed in
this filthy custom, is it not both great
vanity and uncleanness, that at the table,
a place of respect, of cleanliness, of
modesty, men should not be ashamed
to sit tossing of tobacco pipes, and
puffing of the smoke of tobacco one to
another, making the filthy smoke and
stink thereof to exhale athwart the
dishes and infect the air, when very
often men that abhor it are at their re
past ? Surely smoke becomes a kitchen
far better than a dining chamber, and
yet it makes a kitchen also oftentimes
in the inward parts of men, soiling
and infecting them with an unctuous
and oily kind of soot, as hath been
found in some great tobacco takers
that after their death were opened. . . .
The public use whereof at all times
and in all places, hath now so far pre-

38

James I.

vailed, as [that] divers men, very sound
both in judgment and complexion, have
been at last forced to take it also with
out desire, partly because they were
ashamed to seem singular . . . and
partly to be as one that was content to
eat garlic (which he did not love) that
he might not be troubled with the
smell of it in the breath of his fellows.
And is it not a great vanity that a man
cannot heartily welcome his friend now,
but straight they must be in hand with
tobacco ? No it is become in place of
a cure, a point of good fellowship, and
he that will refuse to take a pipe of
tobacco among his fellows (though for
his own election he would rather feel
the savor of a sink) is accounted
peevish and no good company, even
as they do with tippling in the cold
Eastern countries. Yea the mistress
cannot in a more mannerly kind enter
tain her servant than by giving him out
of her fair hand a pipe of tobacco.
... A custom loathsome to the eye,
hateful to the nose, harmful to the
brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in
the black, stinking fume thereof, near
est resembling the horrible Stygian
smoke of the pit that is bottomless.
Law of King James to restrict the Use
of Tobacco. (In Arber.)
Oct. 17, 1604.
. . . Whereas Tobacco ... is now
at this day, through evil custom and the
toleration thereof, excessively taken by
a number of riotous and disordered
persons of mean and base condition
who ... do spend most of their time
in that idle vanity, to the evil example
and corrupting of others, and also do
consume that wages which many of
them get by their labor, and wherewith
their families should be relieved, not
caring at what price they buy that drug,
but rather devising how to add to it
other mixture, thereby to make it the

more delightful to their taste, though so
much the more costly to their purse : by
which great and immoderate taking of
tobacco the health of a great number of
our people is impaired, and their bodies
weakened and made unfit for labor, the
estates of many mean persons so decayed
and consumed as [that] they are there
by driven to unthrifty shifts only to
maintain their gluttonous exercise there
of, besides that also a great part of the
treasure of our land is spent and
exhausted by this only drug : — we do
therefore will and command you our
Treasurer of England ... to give order
to all Customers, Controllers, Searchers,
Surveyors and other officers of our ports
that . . . they shall demand . . . the
sum of six shillings and eight pence up
on every pound weight thereof, over
and above the Custom of two pence
upon the pound weight usually paid
heretofore. . . .
Extract from a Letter of Rev. Thomas
Lorkin to Sir Thomas Pucker
ing, Bart.
(In Court and Times of James I. Vol.
II. p. 137.)
. . . His majesty hath newly pub
lished a book, being certain meditations
on the Lord's prayer, which he hath
dedicated to the Marquis of Bucking
ham, as the preface can inform you.
You shall receive »it herein likewise.

4. Extract from the "Daemonologie"
of James I. (In Harris, Life of James
I. Lond. 1814, p. 45.)
The fearful abounding at this time
[I597]> m tms country [Scotland], of
these detestable slaves of the devil, the
witches or enchanters, hath moved me,
beloved reader, to dispatch in post this
following treatise of mine, not in any
wise (as I protest) to serve for a shew
of my learning and ingene, but only
(moved of conscience) to press thereby

James I.

39

so far as I can, to resolve the doubting
hearts of many ; both that such assaults
of Satan are most certainly practised,
and that the instrument thereof merits
most severely to be punished, against
the damnable opinions of two principally
in our age, whereof the one called Scot,
an Englishman, is not ashamed in public
print to deny that there can be such a
thing as witchcraft; and so maintains
the old errors of the Sadducees in deny
ing of spirits ; the other called Wierus,
a German physician, sets out a public
apology for all these crafts-folks, where
by, procuring for their impunity, he
plainly bewrays himself to have been
one of that profession. And for to
make this treatise the more pleasant
and facile, I have put it in form of a
dialogue, which I have divided into
three books ; the first speaking of magic
in general, and necromancie in special :
the second of sorcerie and witchcraft :
and the third contains a discourse of all
these kinds of spirits, and spectres that
appear and trouble persons : together
with a conclusion of the whole work.
. . . Witches ought to be put to death
according to the law of God, the civil
and imperial law, and the municipal law
of all Christian nations. Yea to spare
the life, and not to strike when God
bids strike, and so severely punish in so
odious a fault and treason against God,
it is not only unlawful, but doubtless no
less sin in the Magistrate nor it was
in Saul's sparing Agag. . . . Barnes
[bairns] or wives, or never so defamed
persons, may serve for sufficient wit
nesses against them. . . . There are
two good helps that may be used for
their trial : the one is the finding of their
mark, and the trying the insensibleness
thereof : the other is their fleeting on
the water : for, as in a secret murther,
if the dead carkas be at any time there
after handled by the murtherer, it will
gush out of blood, as if the blood were

crying to the heaven for revenge of the
murtherer : God having appointed that
secret supernatural sign, for trial of that
secret unnatural crime : so that it appears
that God hath appointed (for a super
natural sign of the monstrous impiety of
witches) that the water shall refuse to
receive them in her bosom, that have
shaken off them the sacred water of
baptism, and wilfully refused the benefit
thereof : no, not so much as their eyes
are able to shed tears (threaten and
torture them as you please) while first
they repent (God not permitting them
to dissemble their obstinacie in so hor
rible a crime) . Albeit the women-kind
especially, be able otherwise to shed
tears at every light occasion when they
will, yea, although it were dissembling
like the crocodiles.
Statute of First Year of James I.
(In Harris, p. 4S.)
... If any person or persons shall
use, practise, or exercise any invoca
tion, or conjuration of any evil and
wicked spirit, or shall consult, coven
ant with, entertain, employ, feed or
reward any evil and wicked spirit, to
or for any intent and purpose : or take
up any dead man, woman, or child,
out of his, her or their grave, or any
other place where the dead body rest-
eth, or the skin, bone, or any part of
any dead person, to be employed or
used in any manner of witchcraft,
sorcery, charm, or inchantment; or
shall use, practise, or exercise any
witchcraft, inchantment, charm or
sorcery, whereby any person shall be
killed, destroyed, wasted, consumed,
pined or lamed in his or her body, or
any part thereof ; that then every such
offender or offenders, their aiders,
abettors, and counsellors, being of any
the said offenses duly and lawfully con
victed and attainted, shall suffer pains
of death as a felon or felons, and shall

40

.James I.

lose the privilege and benefit of clergy
and sanctuary.

5. Letter of Sir John Harrington to
Sir Amyas Paulett. (In Jesse, Me
moirs of the Court of England under
the Stuarts. Vol. I. p. 70.)
January, 1610.
My Loving Cousin : It behoveth me
now to write my journal respecting the
gracious command of my sovereign
prince to come to his closet; which
matter, as you so well and urgently
desire to hear of, I shall, as suiteth my
best ability, relate unto you, and is as
foUoweth : — When I came to the
presence-chamber and had gotten good
place to see the lordly attendants and
bowed my knee to the prince, I was
ordered by special messenger, and that
in secret sort, to wait awhile in an out
ward chamber, whence, in near an
hour waiting, the same knave led me
up a passage, and so to a small room
where was good order of paper, ink
and pens, put in a board for the
prince's use. Soon upon this the
prince his highness did enter and in
much good humor asked "if I was
cousin to Lord Harrington of Exton? "
I humbly replied " His majesty did
some honor in enquiring my kin to one
whom he had so late honored and
made a baron," and moreover did add,
" we were both branches of the same
tree." Then he discoursed much of
learning, and showed me his own in
such sort, as made me remember my
examiner at Cambridge. He sought
much to know my advances in philos
ophy, and uttered profound sentences
of Aristotle and such like writers,
which I had never read and which
some are bold enough to say others do
not understand ; but this I pass by.
The prince did now press my reading
to him part of a canto of Ariosto ;
praised ray utterance, and said he had

been informed of many as to my learn
ing in the time of the Queen. He
asked me what I thought pure wit was
made of and whom it did best become?
Whether a king should not be the best
clerk in his own country ; and if this
land did not entertain good opinion of
his learning and good wisdom? His
majesty did much press for my opinion
touching the power of Satan in matter
of witchcraft, and asked me with much
gravity if I did truly understand why
the devil did work more with antient
women than others? I did not refrain
from a scurvy jest, and even said (not
withstanding to whom it was said) that
we were taught hereof in Scripture
where it is told that the devil walketh
in dry places. His majesty, moreover,
was pleased to say much and favorably,
of my good report for merit and good
conceit : to which I did covertly
answer, as not willing a subject should
be wiser than his prince, nor even
appear so.
More serious discourse did next en
sue, wherein I wanted room to con
tinue, and sometimes some to escape :
for the Queen, his mother, was not
forgotten, nor Davison neither. His
highness told me her death was visible
in Scotland before it did really happen,
being, as he said, spoken of in secret
by those whose power of sight pre
sented to them a bloody head dancing
in the air. He then did remark on
this gift (second sight) and said he
sought out of certain books a sure way
to attain knowledge of future chances.
Hereat he named many books which
I did not know, nor by whom written ;
but advised me not to consult some
authors which would lead me to evil
consultations. I told his majesty the
power of Satan had, I much feared,
damaged my bodily frame, but I had
not further will to court his friendship
for my soul's hurt. We next dis-

James I.

4i

coursed somewhat upon religion, when
at length he said : " Now, sir, you
have seen my wisdom in some sort and
I have pried into yours; pray you do
me justice in your report, and in good
reason I will not fail to add to your
understanding in such points as I find
you lack amendment." I made cour
tesy hereat, and withdrew down the
passage and out at the gate, amidst the
many varlets and lordly servants who
stood around. Thus you have the his
tory of your neighbor's high chance
and entertainment at court; more of
which matter when I come home to
my dwelling and talk of these affairs
in a corner. I must press to silence
hereon, as otherwise all is undone. I
did forget to tell that His Majesty much
asked concerning my opinion of the
new weed, tobacco, and said it would,
by its use, infuse ill qualities on the
brain, and that no learned man ought
to taste it, and wished it forbidden. I
will now forbear further exercise of
your time, as Sir Robert's man waiteth
for my letter to bear to you, from your
old neighbor, Friend and Cousin,
John Harrington.

6. Letters of John Chamberlain.
Esq., to Sir Dudley Carleton. (In
Court and Times of James I. Vol. II.
P- XI5-) London, Dec. 20th, 1618.
The king hath been to Theobalds
ever since Wednesday, and comes to
town this day ; and unless his presence
bring us some news, we are likely to
have a dead and dull Christmas. I am
sorry to hear that he grows every day
more froward, and with such a kind of
morosity, that doth either argue a great
¦discontent in mind, or a distemper of
humours in his body. Yet he is never
so out of tune, but the very sight of
my Lord of Buckingham doth settle
and quiet all.

May 14th, 1619.
It were to no purpose to make any
long description of the funeral [of
Anne of Denmark, James's Queen],
which was but a drawling, tedious
sight, more remarkable for number
than for any other singularity, there
being 280 poor women, besides an
army of men fellows, that were serv
ants to the lords, and others of the
train. And, though the number of
lords and ladies was very great, yet
methought, altogether, they made but
a poor show ; which, perhaps, was,
because they were apparelled all alike,
or that they came loggering all along,
even tired with the length of the way
and the weight of their cloaks, every
lady having twelve yards of broad
cloth about her, and the countesses
sixteen. . . .
June 5th [three weeks after !]
The king came from Theobalds, on
Tuesday, to Whitehall, all along the
fields; and, on the back side of Gray's
Inn, was met by a fair troop of our
citizens on horseback, with their chains
of gold, or pearl, or diamonds ; and
the aldermen in scarlet. The recorder
made a short speech in congratulation
of his recovery, and excuse of the lord
mayor' s absence ; whereto the King
gave no great heed, making little show
of being pleased, as being given to
understand that he is more sullen than
sick, which, in very truth, is otherwise,
for he continues still in weak estate.
The King was attended by the prince
[Charles I.], and all the nobility, in
very good equipage ; himself very fresh
in a suit of watchet satin, laid with
silver lace, with a blue and white
feather ; as also his horse was furnished
with the like, both before and behind.
Insomuch that all the company was
glad to see him so gallant, and more
like a wooer than a mourner. But
what decorum it will be when ambas-

42

James I.

sadors come to condole (as here is one
now from the Duke of Lorraine, with
three or four and twenty followers, all
in black) , let them consider whom it
more concerns. . . . June 26th.
. . . The king this next week, makes
a petty progress to Otelands, Oking
and Windsor. . . . His legs and feet
come pretty well to him, having found
out a very good expedient of late, to
bathe them in every buck and stag's
belly in the place where he kills them ;
which is counted an excellent remedy
to strengthen and restore the sinews.
Au reste, he is fallen to his old diet,
and will not be persuaded to forbear
fruit, nor sweet wines. In the mean
time we are driven to hardships for
money, and all too little ; so that we
are fain to make sale of jewels for
£20,000, to furnish out this progress.

7. Letter of James to a certain Blake
concerning the Puritans. No date.
(In Ellis, Original Letters, 3d Series,
4th volume, p. 161.) English mod
ernized. My honest Blake. . . . The letter
talking of deambulatory councils and
such like satiric tricks did a little chafe
me, but ye may see I answered accord
ing to the old scholar's rule, in quo
casu quceris, in eodem res pondere
teneris, for I would be sorry not to be
as constant indeed as she was that
called herself semper eadem ; indeed
ye may tell the beagle that he hath
best cause to complain of my being a

peripatetic, for I will oftimes walk
so fast, round about and above with
him, that he will be like to fall down
dead upon the floor. I can give you
no other thanks for your daily working
and public railing upon me, save only
this, do what ye can ye can give me
no more arguments of your faithful
affection towards me, and do what I
can unto you, I can never increase a
hair the devotion of your service towards
me. We have kept such a revel with the
Puritans here these two days as was
never heard the like, where I have
peppered them as soundly as ye have
done the Papists there ; it were no
reason that those that will refuse the
airy sign of the cross after baptism
should have their purses stuffed with
any more solid and substantial crosses ;
they fled me so from argument to argu
ment without ever answering me di
rectly, ut est eorum moris, that I was
forced at last to say unto them, that if
any of them had been in a college dis
puting with their scholars, if any of
their disciples had answered them in
that sort, they would have fetched him
up in place of a reply, and so should
the rod have plied upon the poor boy's
buttocks. I have such a book of theirs
as may well convert infidels, but it
shall never convert me, except by turn
ing me more earnestly against them ;
and thus praying you to commend me
to the honest chamberlain, I bid you
heartily farewell.
James R.

James I.

43

GROUP VI.
THE GUNPOWDER PLOT. 1 605 A. D.

I. Account of Father John Gerard.
(In " The Condition of Catholics under
James by John Morris." Lond., 1S71,
p. 96.)
[Father Gerard was tried for com
plicity in the plot, but acquitted.]
. . . About ten days before the Par
liament should have begun the Lord
Mounteagle (whose affection to Cath
olics hath long time been known unto
divers) being at his own house and at
supper, a man came to his page in the
street and delivered him a letter wish
ing him to deliver the same unto his
Lord's own hands, which the page
performed, but made no stay of the
bringer thereof, who presently departed.
The Lord Mounteagle not knowing the
hand, and seeing no name subscribed,
caused one of his men to read it unto
him, and it was of this tenour.
"My Lord, out of the love I bear
to some of your friends, I have a care
of your preservation, therefore I would
advise you, as you tender your life, to
devise some excuse to shift off your
attendance at this Parliament, for God
and man have concurred to punish the
wickedness of this time. And think
not slightly of this advertisement, but
retire yourself into your country, where
you may expect the event in safety.
For though there be no appearance of
any stir, yet, I say, there shall receive
a terrible blow this Parliament, and
yet they shall not see who hurts them.
This council is not to be contemned,
because it may do you good, and can
do you no harm, for the danger is
passed so soon as you have burnt the
letter. And I hope God will give you
the grace to make use of it, to Whose
holy protection I commend you."

This was the letter which the Lord
Mounteagle having considered, and see
ing so dangerous matter contained in it,
he presently went to the Lord of Salis
bury, who is Chief Secretary of His
Majesty, and delivered the letter unto
him, with relation of all circumstances
of the receipt and reading of the letter.
The Lord of Salisbury seemed not at
the first to make any great account of
it, yet said he would acquaint some
other Lords of the Council with the
same aod commended the Lord Mount
eagle for his fidelity and his care of His
Majesty's safety, and of the State, and
presently showed the letter to the Lord
Chamberlain, and then both of them
thought the letter might have some
relation with other informations the
Lord of Salisbury had received beyond
seas, concerning some business intended
by the Papists ; and they seemed to think
there might be some perilous attempt
intended. And therefore they two con
cluded to join. with them three other of
the Council, to wit, the Lord Admiral
the Lord of Worcester and Northamp
ton, to be acquainted with this matter;
who having all of them concurred to
gether to the examination of the contents
of the said letter, they did conclude
(saith the book written of the discovery
of this treason) that how slight soever
a matter at the first appear, yet was it
not absolutely to be condemned, in
respect of the care which it behoved
them to have of the preservation of His
Majesty's person. Yet they resolved,
for two reasons, first to acquaint the
King himself with the same, before they
proceeded to any further inquisition in
the matter, as well (saith the book) for
the expectation and experience they had

44

James I.

of His Majesty's fortunate judgement in
clearing and solving of obscure riddles
aid doubtful mysteries, as also because
the more time would in the meanwhile
he given for the practise to ripen (if any
was) whereby the discovery might be
the more clear and evident, and the
ground of proceeding thereupon more
safe, just, and easy. And so according
to their determination the said Earl of
Salisbury did repair to the King upon
the Friday after, being All-Hallow-day
which was the day after His Majesty's
arrival from Royston, where he had
been at his hunting exercise, and was
come up to London to be present at the
beginning of the Parliament. The Earl
therefore finding the King alone in his
gallery, without any other speech or
judgement giving of the letter, but only
relating simply the form of the delivery
thereof, he presented it to His Highness.
The King no sooner read the letter, but
after a little pause, and then reading it
over again, he delivered his judgement
of it in such sort, as he thought it was
not to be contemned ; for that the style
of it seemed to be more quick and pithy
than is usual to be in any pasquil or libel,
the superfluities of idle brains. But the
Earl of Salisbury perceiving the King
to apprehend it deeplier than he looked
for, knowing his nature, told him that
he thought by one sentence in it, that it
was like to be written by some fool or
madman, reading to him that sentence
in it, "For the danger is past as soon as
you have burnt the letter," which he
said was likely to be the saying of a
fool ; for if the danger was passed so
soon as the letter was burnt then the
warning behoved to be of little avail,
when the burning of the letter might
make the danger to be eschewed. But
the King by the contrary, considering
the former sentence in the letter, "That
they should receive a terrible blow at
this Parliament, and yet should not see

who hurt them;" joining it to the
sentence immediately following already
alleged, did thereupon conjecture that
the danger mentioned should be some
sudden danger by blowing up of powder.
For no other insurrection, rebellion or
whatsoever other private or desperate
attempt could be committed orattempted
in time of Parliament and the authors
thereof unseen except only if it were by
a blowing up of powder, which might
be performed by one base knave in a
dark corner : whereupon he was moved
to interpret and construe the latter
sentence in the letter (alleged by the
Earl of Salisbury against all ordinary
sense and construction grammar) as if
by these words, "For the danger is
passed as soon as you have burned the
letter," should be closely understood by
suddenty and quickness of the danger,
which should be as quickly performed
and at an end, as that paper should be
of blazing up in the fire, turning the
word of "as soon" to the sense of "as
quickly;" and therefore His Majesty
wished that before his going to the
Parliament, the under rooms of the
Parliament House might be well and
narrowly searched. The Earl of Salis
bury wondering at His Majesty's com
mentary, which he knew to be so far
contrary to his ordinary and natural
disposition, who did rather ever sin
upon the other side, in not apprehend
ing nor trusting the advertisements of
practices and perils when he was freely
informed of them, and interpreting
rightly his extraordinary caution at this
time to proceed from the vigilant care
he had of the whole State more than of
his own person, yet he thought good to
dissemble still unto the King, that there
was just cause of such apprehension,
and ended the present talk with some
merry jest as his custom is. But though
he seemed to neglect it to His Majesty,
yet he could not be addressed till with

James I.

45

the Lord Chamberlain he came again
unto His Majesty, at which time it was
agreed that the said Lord Chamberlain'
should according to his custom and office
view all the Parliament Houses both
above and below, and consider what
likelihood or appearance of any such
danger might be gathered : but yet this
was deferred until the afternoon before
the sitting down of the Parliament,
which was upon the Monday following :
at what time, he according to this con
clusion went to the Parliament House
accompanied with the Lord Mounteagle,
where having viewed all the lower
rooms, he found in the vault under the
Upper House great store and provision
of billets, faggots, and coals : and in
quiring of Whyneyard, keeper of the
wardrobe to what use he had put the
lower rooms and cellars, he told him
that Mr. Thomas Percy had hired both
the house and part of the cellar or vault
under the same and that the wood and
coal therein was the said gentleman's
own provision. Whereupon the Lord
Chamberlain looking into the room per
ceived a fellow standing in a corner,
who called himself the said Percy his
man, and keeper of that house for him,
but indeed was Guido Faulks, the man
that should have acted that monstrous
tragedy. The Lord Chamberlain looking upon
all things with a heedful eye, though
in outward show he seemed careless,
presently addressed himself to the
King, and in the presence of the Lord
Treasurer, the Lord Admiral, the Earls
of Worcester, Northampton, and Salis
bury, he made his report what he had
seen and observed there, affirming that
he did wonder not a little at the extra
ordinary great provisions of wood and
coal in that house where Thomas Percy
had so seldom occasion to remain, as
likewise it gave him in his mind, that
his man looked like a very tall and

desperate fellow. This could not but
increase the King's former apprehen
sion, whereupon he willed that those
billets and coals should be searched to
the bottom : and of the same opinion
were the Lords there present, although
they thought it fit to have it done in the
night, and by a Justice of Peace only
under pretence of searching for some
of the King's stuff that was missing;
and this for two reasons ; one was lest
if nothing were found, it should seem
the King and State were too suspicious
of every light toy ; also for that they
said it would lay an ill-favoured impu
tation upon the Earl of Northumber
land, one of His Majesty's greatest
subjects and Councillors : this Thomas
Percy being his kinsman and most con
fident familiar. . . .
That night following being Monday
night (when the Parliament should
have begun and ended also the next
day) Sir Thomas Knevet, a gentleman
of His Majesty's Privy chamber, was
sent to search the place at midnight
under pretence of looking for some
other things as was before devised.
When he came to the Parliament House
before his entry into Mr. Percy his
lodging, he found the foresaid man
that had the keeping of the house for
Mr. Percy standing without the house
and seeing him with his clothes on and
booted at so dead time of the night, the
Justice apprehended him : and after
went forward to the searching of the
house, where after he had caused to be
overturned some of the billets and
coals, he first found one of the small
barrels of powder, and after, all the
rest, to the number of thirty-six barrels
great and small. And thereafter search
ing the fellow whom he had taken,
found three matches and all other
instruments fit for blowing up of the
powder ready upon him : which made
him instantly to confess what his intent

46

James I.

was, affirming withal that if he had
happened to have been within the
house when he was taken, as he was
immediately before at the ending of
his work, he would not have failed to
have blown up the Justice, house and
all. . . .
The prisoner was carried fast bound
unto the Court. . . . All that day the
Council could get nothing out of him
concerning his complices, refusing to
answer to any such questions which he
thought might discover the plot, and
laying all the blame upon himself,
whereunto he said he was moved only
for religion and conscience sake, deny
ing the King to be his lawful sovereign
or the anointed of God, in respect he
was an heretic. . . . But after he had
been three or four days in the Tower
and was threatened with the rack only,
as the printed book saith (though the
common voice was that he was ex
tremely racked the first days), then,
whether to avoid torments, or for that
he might understand that the gentlemen
had discovered themselves by rising up
in arms in the country, he then named
some of his complices, with his own
name also [Fawkes], and how the
matter was broken unto him, and how
begun and prosecuted, as I have before
declared ; yet I cannot find by his con
fession which is published in print,
that he named above six of those who
had wrought in the mine and provision
of the powder and who then were all
known to be up in arms. . . .

2. Declaration of Guy Fawkes.
(From the Gunpowder Treason,
Lond., 1679.)
I confess that a practice in general
was first broken unto me against his
Majesty for relief of the Catholique
cause, and not invented or propounded
by myself. And this was first pro
pounded unto me about Easter last

was twelve-month, beyond the seas, in
the Low Countries of the Arch-Duke's
obeysance, by Thomas Winter, who
came thereupon with me into England,
and there we imparted our purpose to
three other Gentlemen more, namely
Robert Catesby, Thomas Percy and
John Wright, who all five consulting
together of the means how to execute
the same, and taking a vow among
ourselves for secresie, Catesby pro
pounded to have it performed by Gun
powder, and by making a myne under
the Upper House of Parliament ; which
place we made choice of the rather,
because religion having been unjustly
suppressed there, it was fittest that
justice and punishment should be exe
cuted there.
This being resolved amongst us,
Thomas Percy hired an house at West
minster for that purpose, near adjoin
ing to the Parliament House, and there
we begun to make our Myne about the
nth of December, 1604.
The five that first entered into the
work were Thomas Percy, Robert
Catesby, Thomas Winter, John Wright,
and myself : and soon after we took an
other unto us, Christopher Wright,
having sworn him also, and taken the
Sacrament for secrecy.
When we came to the very founda
tion of the wall of the House, which
was about three yards thick, and found
it a matter of great difficulty, we took
unto us another gentleman, Robert
Winter, in like manner, with oath and
sacrament as aforesaid.
It was about Christmas when we
brought our Myne unto the wall, and
about Candlemas we had wrought the
wall half through : and whilst they
were in working, I stood as sentinel, to
descrie any man that came near,
whereof I gave them warning, and so
they ceased until I gave notice again to
proceed.

James I.

47

All we seven lay in the house, and
had shot and powder, being resolved to
die in that place before we should yield
or be taken.
As they were working upon the wall,
they heard a rushing in a cellar of re
moving of coales, whereupon we feared
we had been discovered : and they sent
me to go to the cellar, who finding
that the coales were a selling, and that
the cellar was to be let, viewing the
commodity thereof for our purpose,
Percy went and hired the same for
yearly rent.
We had before this provided and
brought into the house twenty barrels
of powder, which we removed into the
cellar, and covered the same with bil
lets and fagots, which were provided
for that purpose.
After Easter, the Parliament being
prorogued till October next, we dis
persed ourselves, and I retired into the
Low Countreys, by advise and direction
of the rest, as well as to acquaint Owen
with the particulars of the plot, as also
least by my longer stay I might have
grown suspicious, and so have come in
question. In the mean time, Percy having the
key of the Cellar, laid in more powder

and wood into it. I returned about the
beginning of September next, and then
receiving the key of Percy, we brought
in more powder and billets to cover the
same again, and so I went again into
the countrey till the 30th of October.
It was further resolved amongst us,
that the same day that this act should
have been performed, some other of
our confederates should have surprised
the person of the Lady Elizabeth
[Later Queen of Bohemia], the king's
eldest daughter, who was kept in War
wickshire at the Lord Harington's
house, and presently have proclaimed
her queen, having a project of a proc
lamation ready for that purpose, where
in we made no mention of altering of
religion, nor would have avowed the
deed to be ours, until we should have
had power enough to make our party
good, and then we would have avowed
both. Concerning Duke Charles, the king's
second son, we had sundry consulta
tions how to seize on his person. But
because we found no means how to
compass it (the Duke being kept near
London, where we had not forces
enough) we resolved to serve our turn
with the Lady Elizabeth.

GROUP VII.
THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH TO THE COUNT PALATINE.

Extracts from the Letters of John
Chamberlain, Esq., to Sir Dudley Carle-
ton. (In Court and Times of James
I., London, 1848, pp. 157.)
Jan. 28th, 1612.
. . . We hear the king is still at
Newmarket, somewhat troubled with
a humour in his great toe, that must not
be christened or called the gout. . . .
June 17th.
. . . The king hath been coming

and going to Eltham all the last week.
. . . But for all his pleasure, he for
gets not business ; but hath found the
art of frustrating men's expectations,
and holding them in suspense. October 22d.
The king came from Theobalds on
Saturday, having notice of the Count
Palatine's arrival at Gravesend the night
before. He [the Count Palatine] had
a very speedy and prosperous passage ;

48

James I.

for coming from the Hague on Thurs
day, at eleven o'clock, he embarked
that evening at Maesland Sluice, and
the next night, about ten, landed at
Gravesend, where he continued all
Saturday ; and on Sunday morning the
Duke of Lennox, and some other noble
men and courtiers, were sent to con
duct him to the court, where he arrived
about five o'clock, and was met at the
Watergate by the Duke of York, at
tended by the Earls of Shrewsbury,
Worcester, and others, and so brought
through the hall, and along the terrace
to the new great chamber, where the
king expected him. The prince [Henry,
heir apparent] stirred not a foot, which
was much noted. He had a great peal
of ordnance as he passed by the Tower,
and came with some disadvantage into
such presence, having been so long on
the water in the coldest days that came
this winter ; and yet he carried himself
with that assurance, and so well and
gracefully, both toward king, queen
and prince, and specially his mistress,
that he won much love and commen
dation. The king is much pleased in
him, and carried him presently into his
bedchamber, and there bestowed a ring
of the value of £1800 upon him. . From
thence he was conveyed through the
privy lodgings and galleries to the
water, and so to Essex House, where
lie yet remains ; but is every day at
court, and plies his mistress hard, and
takes no delight in running at ring, nor
tennis, nor riding with the prince, as
Count Henry, his uncle, and others of
his company do, but only in her con
versation. On Tuesday she sent to
invite him, as he sat at supper, to a
play of her own servants in the cock
pit ; and yesterday they were all day
together at Somerset House, which is
much beautified within this year or two.
He hath a train of very sober and well-
fashioned gentlemen; his whole num

ber is not above 170, servants and all,
being limited by the King not to exceed.
There have been some called coram,
for scandalous speeches of him and
the match . . . But howsoever some
would embase his means, and mean
ness of estate and title to match with
such a lady, yet all do approve his
manners and behaviour ; and there be,
that stick not to prefer or equal him,
at least, with the best princes in Italy
for blood and dignity, and not far be
hind them in revenue ; his rents and
earnings in being approved to be
£160,000 a year, besides provisions,
which amount to half as much more,
and his charge and expense not answer
able to theirs. . . . Nov. 4th, 1612.
. . . The Count Palatine continues
in favour and liking with all, especially
at court, where he is now lodged in the
late lord treasurer's lodgings. Yester
day night the Lady Elizabeth invited
him to a solemn supper - and a play,
and they meet often at meals without
curiosity or crowing. On Sunday was
sevennight he dined with the king and
prince in the privy chamber, but sat
bare all the while, whether by custom
or rather, as is thought, to bear the
prince company, who never come
abroad since that day, being seized by
a fever that . . . hath continued a
quotidian since Wednesday last and
with more violence than it began, so
that on Saturday he was let blood bv
advice of most physicians, though But
ler, of Cambridge, was loth to consent.
The blood proved foul ; and that after
noon he grew very sick, so that both
king, queen and Lady Elizabeth went
severally to visit him, and revelling
and plays appointed for that night were
put off . . . He and the Count Pala
tine were invited and promi-.ed to the
lord mayor's feast on Thursday last,

James I.

49

and great preparations were made for
them ; but by this accident he failed.
The Count Palatine and his company,
after they had seen the show in Cheap-
side, went to Guildhall, and were there
feasted and welcomed by Sir John
Swinnerton, the new made lord mayor,
and presented toward the end of the
dinner in the name of the city with a
fair standing cup, a curious basin and
ewer, with two large livery pots, weigh
ing altogether 1200 ounces, to the value
almost of £500 ... He behaved him
self very courteously and in very good
fashion at the feast, and would needs
go to see and salute the lady mayoress
and her train where she sat. The
show was somewhat extraordinary, with
four or five pageants and other devices.
Nov. 1 2th, 16 1 2.
When I was closing up my letter to
you the last week, I understood more of
the prince's sickness than I was willing
to impart ; for I knew it could be no
welcome news anywhere ; and I was in
hopes the world might amend. But
going the next morning, the 5th of
November, to hear the Bishop of Ely
preach at court, ... I found, by the
king and queen's absence from the
sermon, and by his manner of praying
for him, how the matter stood, and
that he was pleni deploratus. For I
cannot learn that he had either speech
or perfect memory after Wednesday
night, but lay, as it were, drawing on
till Friday, between eight and nine
o'clock in the evening, that he de
parted. The world here is much dis
mayed at the loss of so beloved and
likely a prince on such a sudden, and
the physicians are much blamed,
though, no doubt, they did their best.
... It is verily thought that the dis
ease was no other than the ordinary
ague that hath reigned and raged al
most all over England since the latter

end of summer, which, by observation,
is found must have its ordinary course,
and the less physic the better, but only
sweating, and an orderly course of
keeping and government. The ex
tremity of the disease seemed to lie in
his head, for remedy whereof they
shaved him, and applied warm cocks
and pigeons newly killed, but with no
success. ... In his extremity, they
tried all manner of conclusions upon
him, as letting him blood in the nose,
and whatsoever else they could im
agine ; and, at the last cast, gave him
a quintessence sent by Sir Walter
Raleigh, which, he says, they should
have applied sooner, that brought him
to some sort of sense, and opening his
eyes, and some will needs say, speech,
but all failed again presently.
Amongst the rest he [Raleigh] hath
lost his greatest hope, and was grown
into special confidence with him, inso
much that he had moved the king
divers times for him, and had, lastly, a
grant that he should be delivered out of
the Tower before Christmas. ... It
is observed that this late prince never
cast or shed his teeth from his infancy,
which, when Butler heard some days
since, he prophesied that he was not
vitalis or long-lived. . . . The Lady
Elizabeth is much afflicted with this
loss, and not without good cause, for
he did extraordinarily affect her, and,
during his sickness, inquired still after
her ; and the last words he spoke in
good sense, they say, were, " Where is
my dear sister?" . . .
Nov. 19th, 1612.
. . . The king was quickly weary of
Kensington, because he said the wind
blew thorough the walls that he could
not lie warm in his bed. He came to
Whitehall yesterday was sevennight
and went away on Tuesday last to
Theobalds, and is this day for Royston.

5Q

James I.

He carried the Count Palatine along
with him, whose marriage, by this late
accident, is retarded, because it would
be thought absurd that foreign ambas
sadors, coming to condole the prince's
death, should find us feasting and
dancing ; so that it is deferred till May
day, and the mourning for the prince
to continue till the 24th of March, but
the fiancing is appointed the 27th of
December, and his counsellors hope
and do their best to advance the mar
riage soon after. Dec. 17th, 1612.
. . . Sir Francis Bacon hath set out
new essays, where, in a chapter of De
formity, the world takes notice that he
paints out his little cousin to the life.
Dec. 31st.
. . . Sir Thomas Lake, on Sunday
last, outstripped his competitors by one,
by reading the contract betwixt the
Palsgrave and the Lady Elizabeth,
which is the part of a principal secre
tary, praeire conceptis verbis, in such
solemn business. But they say he had
translated the words of our Commun
ion Book into French so badly, and
pronounced them worse, that it moved
an unseasonable laughter, as well in
the contractors as standers-by. . . .
This affiancing was solemnized in the
great banqueting-room on Sunday be
fore dinner, in the presence of the king
and great store of the nobility ; but the
queen was absent, being troubled, as
they say, with the gout. The king was
not out of his chamber in three or four
days before, nor since, having a spice
of the same disease. . . .
Feb. 4th, 1612-13.
. . . The Prince Palatine feasted all
the council the last week, and carried
himself with great commendation, but
specially he respected the archbishop
and his followers above all the rest as

having received only at his hands en
tertainment and kind usage since his
coming into England. On Sunday
last and on Candlemas-day he and his
lady were solemnly asked openly in the
chapel by the Bishop of Bath and
Wells, and the next Sunday is the last
time of asking.
There is extraordinary preparations
for fireworks and fights upon the water,
with three castles, built upon eight
western barges, and one great castle
upon the land, over against the court.
One or two of the pinnaces are come
already from Rochester ; and divers
other vessels, to the number of six and
thirty, are provided, some like galleys,
some galleasses, and some like car-
racks, and other ships of war ; and
above 500 watermen, already pressed,
and 1,000 musqueteers of the Trained
Bands, in the shires hereabout, made
ready for this service, which, in all
computation, cannot stand the King in
so little as £5,000.
On Tuesday, I took occasion to go to
court, because I had never seen the
Palsgrave nor the Lady Elizabeth near
hand for a long time. I had my full
view of them both, but will not tell
you what I think ; but only this, that
he owes his mistress nothing, if he
were a king's son, as she is a king's
daughter. The worst is, methinks, he
is much too young and small timbered
to undertake such a task.
Letter from John Chamberlain, Esq.,
to Mrs. Carleton.
London, February 18, 161 2-13.
Though Mr. Wake be now coming,
and looks for his dispatch within a day
or two, who is able to make a large
discourse of all that passed at this wed
ding ; yet because this is like to arrive
there before him, I will give you a
little touch or taste of that, whereof

James I.

5i

you may receive from him full and
complete satisfaction.
On Thursday night the fireworks
were reasonably well performed, all
save the last castle of fire, which bred
most expectation, and had most devices,
but when it came to execution had
worst success. On Saturday, likewise,
the fight upon the water came short of
that show and brags have been made
of it ; but they pretend the best to be
behind, and left for another day, which
was the winning of the castle on land.
But the king and all the company took
so little delight to see no other activity
but shooting and putting of guns, that
it is quite given over, and the navy
unrigged, and the castle pulled down
the rather for that there were divers
hurt in the former fight, as one lost
both his eyes, another both his hands,
another one hand, with divers others
maimed and hurt, so that to avoid
further harm it was thought best to let
it alone ; and this is the conclusion of
all the preparation, with so much ex
pense of powder and money, which
amounted to no less than £9,000.
On Sunday, I was fetched from
Paul's, where I was set at the sermon,
to see the bride go to church ; and
though it were past ten o'clock before
we came there, yet we found a noble
window reserved in the Jewel House,
which was over against her coming
•down. A pair of stairs set off the gal
lery, made along the court into the
hall, so that we had as much view as a
short passage could give ; but the ex
cess of bravery, and the continual suc
cession of new company, did so dazzle
me, that I could not observe the tenth
part of that I wished. The bridegroom
and bride were both in a suit of cloth
of silver, richly embroidered with sil
ver, her train carried up by thirteen
young ladies, or lords' daughters, at
least, besides five or six more that

could not come near it. These were
all in the same livery with the bride,
though not so rich. The bride was
married in her hair, that hung down
long, with an exceeding rich coronet
on her head, which the king valued the
next day at a million of crowns. Her
two bridemen were the young prince
and the Earl of Northampton. The
king and queen both followed, the
queen all in white, but not very rich,
saving in jewels. The king, me
thought, was somewhat strangely at
tired in a cap and feather, with a
Spanish cape and a long stocking.
The chapel was very straitly kept,
none suffered to enter under the degree
of a baron, but the three lords chief
justices. In the midst there was a
handsome stage or scaffolding made on
the one side, whereon sat the king,
prince, Count Palatine, and Count
Henry of Nassau. On the other side,
the queen, with the bride and one or
two more. Upon this stage they were
married by the Archbishop of Canter
bury, assisted by the Bishop of Bath
and Wells, who made the sermon. It
was done all in English, and the
Prince Palatine had learned as much as
concerned his part reasonably perfectly.
The French, Venetian, and State's am
bassadors, dined that day with the
bride. The Spanish ambassador was
sick, and the archduke's was invited
for the day, but would not come.
That night was the lord's masque,
whereof I hear no great commendation,
save only for riches, their devices being
long and tedious, and more like a play
than a masque. The next morning, the
king went to visit these young turtles
that were coupled on St. Valentine's
day, and did strictly examine him
whether he were a true son-in-.law and
was sufficiently assured. That after
noon the king, prince, Count Palatine,
with divers others, ran at the ring, and,

52

James I.

when that was ended, and the king and
prince gone, the Palsgrave mounted
upon a high-bounding horse, which he
managed so like a horseman, that he
was exceedingly commended, and had
many shouts and acclamations of the
beholders ; and, indeed, I never saw
any of his age come near to him in that
exercize. It were long and tedious to tell you all
the particulars of the excessive bravery,
both of men and women, but you may
conceive the rest by one or two. The
Lady Wotton had a gown that cost fifty
pounds a yard the embroidery. I hear,
the Earl of Northumberland's daughter
was very gallant, and the Lord Monta-
cute, that hath paid reasonably well for
recusancy, bestowed fifteen hundred
pounds in apparel for his two daugh
ters. The Viscount Rochester, the
Lord Hay and the Lord Dingwall,
were exceeding rich and costly ; but,
above all, they speak of the Earl of
Dorset. But this extreme cost and
riches makes us all poor.
On Monday night was the Middle
Temple and Lincoln's Inn masque pre
pared in the hall at court, whereas the
lords' was in the banqueting room. It
went from the Rolls all up Fleet Street
and the Strand, and made such a gal
lant and glorious show, that it is highly
commended. They had forty gentle
men of best choice out of both houses,
and the twelve masquers, with their
torch-bearers and pages, rode likewise
upon horses exceedingly well trapped
and furnished, besides a dozen little
boys, dressed like baboons, that served
for an anti-masque, and, they say, per
formed it exceedingly well when they
came to it ; and three open chariots,
drawn with four horses apiece, and
carried their musicians and other per
sonages that had parts to speak. All
which, together with their trumpeters
and other attendants, were so well set

out, that it is generally held for the best
show that hath been seen many a day.
The king stood in the gallery to behold
them, and made them ride about the
Tilt Yard, and then they were received
into St. James's Park, and so out, all
along the galleries, into the hall, where
themselves and their devices, which they
say were excellent, made such a glitter
ing show, that the king and all the com
pany were exceedingly pleased, and
especially with their dancing, which
was beyond all that hath been seen yet.
The king made the masters kiss his
hand on parting, and gave them many
thanks, saying, he never saw so many
proper men together, and himself ac
companied them at the banquet, and
took care it should be well ordered, and
speaks much of them behind their
backs, and strokes the master of the
rolls and Dick Martin, who were chief
doers and undertakers.
On Tuesday it came to Gray's Inn
and the Inner Temple's turn to come
with their masque, whereof Sir Francis
Bacon was the chief contriver ; and,
because the former masque came on
horseback and in open chariots, they
made choice to come by water from
Winchester Place, in Southwark, which
suited well with their device, which
was the marriage of the river of Thames
to the Rhine ; and their show by water
was very gallant, by reason of infinite
store of lights, very curiously set and
placed, and many boats and barges,
with devices of light and lamps, with
three peals of ordnance, one at their
taking water, another in the Temple
Garden, and the last at their landing ;
which passage by water cost them bet
ter than three hundred pounds. They
were received at the Privy Stairs, and
great expectation there was that they
should every way excel their competi
tors that went before them ; but in de
vice, daintiness of apparel and, above all,

James I.

53

in dancing, wherein they are held excel
lent, and esteemed for the properer men.
But by what ill planet it fell out, I
know not, they came home as they
went, without doing anything ; the rea
son whereof I cannot yet learn thor
oughly, but only that the hall was so
full that it was not possible to avoid it,
or make room for them ; besides that,
most of the ladies were in the galleries
to see them land, and could not get in.
But the worst of all was, that the king
was so wearied and sleepy with sitting
up almost two whole nights before, that
he had no edge to it. Whereupon, Sir
Francis Bacon adventured to entreat of
his majesty that by this difference he
would not, as it were, bury them quick ;
and I hear, the king should answer,
that then they must bury him quick, for
he could last no longer, but withal gave
them very good words, and appointed
them to come again on Saturday. But
the grace of their masque is quite gone,
when their apparel hath been already
showed, and their devices vented, so
that how it will fall out God knows,
for they are much discouraged and out
of countenance, and the world says it
comes to pass after the old proverb, the
properer man the worse luck.
One thing I had almost forgotten,
that all this time, there was a course
taken, and so notified that no lady or
gentleman should be admitted to any of
these sights with a vardingale, which
was to gain the more room, and I hope
may serve to make them quite left off
in time. And yet there were more
scaffolds, and more provisions made for
room than ever I saw, both in the hall
and banqueting room, besides a new
room built to dine and dance in.
fohn Chamberlain Esq. to Sir Dud
ley Carleton.
London, February 25, 161 2-13.
The King went away on Monday to

Theobalds, and so towards Royston and
Newmarket, whence he is not expected
till the 22nd of March. The Prince
and Count Palatine follow him this day,
and mean the next week to visit Cam
bridge. And there is speech that be
fore Easter-day they will make a prog
ress to Oxford, which will be a good
errand for the young married gentle
man, whose friends and followers wish
he might oftener have occasion to visit
his uncle. All well-affected people
take great pleasure and contentment in
this match, as being a firm foundation
and establishing of religion, which,
upon what- ground I know not, was
before suspected to be en branle, and
the Roman Catholics malign it as much
as being the ruin of their hopes. The
queen, likewise, is well come about,
and graces it all she can, and seems to
take special comfort in him.
Yesterday was the great christening
of the Earl of Salisbury's daughter, in
the chapel at court, whence the queen,
Prince Palatine, Lady Elizabeth's high
ness, and all the company conveyed
it home, and went by water to the
banquet. Our revels and triumphs within doors
gave great contentment, being Doth
dainty and curious in devices and sump
tuous in show, especially the inns of
court, whose two masques stood them
in better than £4,000, besides the gal
lantry and expense of private gentle
men that were but ante ambulores, and
went only to accompany them. And
our Gray's Inn men and the Inner
Templars were nothing discouraged,
for all the first dodge, but on Saturday
last performed their parts exceeding
well and with great applause and ap
probation, both from the king and all
the company. The next night, the
king invited the masquers, with their
assistants, to the number of forty, to
a solemn supper in the new marriage-

54

James I.

room, where they were well treated
and much graced with kissing her
majesty's hand, and every one having
a particular accoglienza from him.
The king husbanded the matter so well
that this feast was not at his own cost,
but he and his company won it upon
a wager of running at the ring, of the
prince and his nine followers, who paid
£30 a man. The king, queen, prince,
Count Palatine and Lady Elizabeth
sat at table by themselves, and the
great lords and ladies, with the mas
quers, above four score in all, sat at
another long table, so that there was
no room for them that made the feast,
but they were fain to be lookers-on,
which the young Lady Rich took no
great pleasure in, to see her husband,
who was one that paid, not so much
as drink for his money.

Extracts from Letters to the Rev.
Joseph Mead. (In Court and Times
of James I. Vol. II. p. 252.)
London, May 4th, 1621.
. . . On Tuesday, Floyd, a coun
cillor, steward, and receiver in Shrop
shire . . . was censured to ride thrice
with papers, and stand in the pillory,
and first at Westminster, for saying,
" Goodman Palsgrave, and goody Pals
grave, may, or must go pack their chil
dren at their backs, and beg." On
Wednesday should have been the first
time, but his majesty stayed it.
Yesterday, the king and the House
met. His majesty thanked them for
the care they had of his son-in-law's,
daughter's, and grandchildren's honour.
If it were in them to censure his pris
oner, the censure should be executed ;
otherwise, there should be a punish
ment equivalent to that they had set
down. Which gave good content. . . .
June 1, 1621.
On Saturday last, the lords of the

Upper House added unto Floyd's cen
sure, formerly passed in the Lower
House. On Monday, he received part
of his punishment ; for he rode from
Fleet Bridge to the Standard in Cheap-
side ; his face towards the horse's tail,
and papers about his hat, bearing this
inscription, " For using ignominious and
despiteful behaviour, reproachful and
malicious words against the Prince and
Princess Palatine, the king' s only daugh
ter and children." There he stood two
hours on the pillory, when he had the K
branded on his forehead, and was con
veyed to the fleet. To-day he shall
have rid thence to Westminster Palace,
there to have stood two hours also on
the pillory ; thence to have been
whipped to Newgate, there to remain
in perpetual imprisonment, fined in
£5,000, and never to bear arms, or
come in company of gentle or honest
men. But yester evening, it was gen
erally said, the prince had begged of
the House the release of this day's pun
ishment, and of the king his fine. But
whether true or not, I yet know not.
Jan. nth.
. . . The same day, his majesty rode
by coach to Theobald's to dinner. . . .
After dinner, riding on horseback
abroad, his horse stumbled, and cast
his majesty into the New River, where
the ice broke ; he fell in so far, that
nothing but his boots were seen. Sir
Richard Young was next, who alighted,
went into the river, and lifted him out.
There came much water out of his
mouth and body.
Mr. Thomas Locke to Sir Dudley
Carleton. Jan. 12, 1621-2.
... A servant to one Mr. Byng, a
counsellor, is deeply questioned for
saying, that there would be a rebellion,
or to that effect. He hath been upon the
rack, and they say it will cost him his life.

James I.

55

GROUP VIIL
THE SPANISH MARRIAGE-PROJECT.

Extracts from Private Letters. (In
Court and Times of James I. Ed. by
author of Sophia Dorothea. London,
1848.)
Rev. Joseph Mead to Sir Martin
Stuteville.
Christ College, March 1, 1622-3.
When I wrote my last, I was not
then fully persuaded of the prince's
[Charles I.] going to Spain, though
the report were frequent, from London.
But, within an hour after, I believed
it ; but it was too late to open my
letter again, being sealed and sent.
The news enclosed would fain hope
that he is gone some whither else than
to Spain ; but they have, that hope so,
no ground but desire. The persuasion
of most is otherwise.
It was something strange, that, when
the prince desired to go so concealedly,
it should be publicly revealed and
talked, even by the court, before,
almost, he was out of the land. Sure
I am that at London it came to town
on Tuesday night, and was general all
Wednesday, the morning of which day
he took ship. . . . How could it come
from Dover to London so soon ? or how
could they discover they were for Spain ?
I shall not need tell you how we en
tertained the ambassadors of Spain and
Brussels . . . how our doctors pledged
healths to the infanta and the arch
duchess ; and, if any left too big a
snuff ["heeltaps"] Columbo would
cry, " Supernaculum! Supernacu
lum !" . . .
John Chamberlain to Dudley
Carleton.
London, March 8, 1622-3.
We have little certainty of the prince' s
journey since his going hence, but only

that they landed at Boulogne the
Wednesday, and rode three posts that
same night. On Friday they came to
Paris, very weary ; and, resting there
all Saturday, went away early on Sun
day morning. Some give out, that
during their abode there they saw the
king at supper, and the queen practis
ing a ball with divers other ladies,
which, though it be somewhat con
fidently affirmed, yet I think it not
probable, by reason it was their first
Saturday in Lent. . . . Divers of their
servants and followers are gone after
them by land, and more preparing to
go by sea. . . .
To the Rev. Joseph Mead.
London, March 14th, 1622-3.
The prince and my lord marquis
came well through the greater part of
France, to and from Bordeaux, though
not unknown, and were offered great
honor. . . . The Lords Andover,
Vaughan, and Kensington went hence
also twelve days ago that way overland
for Spain. The beginning of next week
there go likewise hence about 200 per
sons more, of nobles, knights, gentle
men and others, towards Portsmouth,
there to embark in two ships . . .
and afterwards to ride overland to
Madrid. . . . Two days ago came
Count Mansfield's secretary hither, and
rode the second and last time, to present
his master's service to our sovereign.
But alas ! our hands are now bound by
the absence of our most precious jewel.
Rev. Joseph Mead to Sir Martin
Stuteville.
Christ College, Mar. 15th, 1622-3.
. . . The King heard our comedy
on Wednesday, but expressed no re-

56

James I.

markable mirth thereat. He laughed
once or twice towards the end. At
dinner, before the comedy, their talk
in the presence was, as I heard, most
of the prince. One present tells me,
that he heard the king say, he hoped
he would bring the lady with him. . . .
On Monday last, Dr. Man and Dr.
Wren had their despatch at New
market for Spain. They also asked
the King's advice what they should do,
if they chanced to meet the host car
ried in the streets as the manner is ;
who answered, that they should avoid
to meet it if they could : if not, they
must do as they did there and so give
no scandal. But I suppose they ex
pected another answer, for a better
privilege, as being his son's chaplains;
but it is a hard case.
John Chamberlain to Dudley
Car let on.
London, March 21st, 1622-3.
. . . For want of other matter, I
send you here certain verses made upon
Jack's and Tom's journey; for the
prince and marquis went through Kent
under the names of Jack and Tom
Smith. They [the verses] were fath
ered first upon the king, but, I hear
since, they were only corrected and
amended by him. The other paper is
but a toy, touching the great loss of
the library at Heidelberg. . . . The
last news we heard of the prince came
this day sevennight from Walsingham
Greisley . . . who met them the 2nd
of this month, almost a day's journey
within France. ... It seems . . .
that things are not so forward and ripe
there [in Spain] as we take them.
But what this noble ingenuity and con
fidence to commit and cast himself into
their hands may work, is uncertain.
. . . The young Lord Compton hath
charge of the jewels that are to be sent
and presented ; which are the choice of

all in the Tower, and estimated at
£200,000; but, by the more moderate,
at £80,000. There is a continual
posting, likewise, through France,
which, together with the expense that
the others must make from the sea-side
to Madrid, will so exhaust our coin,
that is so scant already, that it is feared
we shall be driven to use black moneys,
as they call it, and is now in a manner
altogether current in Spain. And wise
men stick not to say that this match,
one way or other, will stand the king
and kingdom in as much as she is like
to bring, besides whatsoever else may
like to happen. Many of our church
men are hardly held in, and their
tongues itch to be talking. . . . On
Sunday last, in the parish church next
to us, one went so far, that the parson
of the church caused the clerk to sing
him down with a psalm, before he had
half done. A Letter from Spain.
March 18-28, 1622-3.
You shall understand that the prince
and marquis arrived here under the
names of Brown and Smith, upon the
17th day of this present month. It
was presently blazed abroad, and the
second day after, the king brought out
his sister, in great state, to be seen of
the prince; and, late at night, the king
and he had a private meeting in the
fields, hard by the town. He lay ten
days at my Lord of Bristol's house,
and yesterday he made a most stately
and magnificent entry into the king's
palace, under a most rich cloth of state.
The king himself, with all the guards
and councils, came to accompany him,
and it was decreed by the council of
State, that the King should give him
the hand at all meetings.
He went in the same form and state
that the Kings of Spain do at their
coronation. It is beyond imagination,

James I.

57

to think what shouts and acclamations
of joy ran amongst the people, crying,
"Vive el Princesse d' Ingilterra ! "
He is now in the palace, attended by
Spaniards, and they are noblemen : his
table is served with flesh, though in
Lent. There was a day of triumphs,
and running at the ring appointed,
which was not well performed by the
Spanish courtiers in taking the same,
but was often missed. But the prince,
taking his horse and spear in hand, did
run at the ring, and at first took it, and
laid it down, and run no more at that
time ; which caused great admiration.
The king, at his first entry into the
palace, congratulated his welcome with
the gift of all offices falling in the time
of his residence in Spain.
In the king's house, about 300 pris
oners, some of them for very enormous
crimes committed, were freed ; and
there is order given to release any
English, Irish, or Scottish galley-slaves
throughout all Spain. There is another
order come out, that no man shall
scandalize or abuse any man about
matters of religion. Likewise, the
reformation of ruffs, gold and silver
lace, is recalled, and both men and
women may wear what they list, whilst
the prince is here. . . . We hope all mat
ters will be here absolutely concluded
by Michaelmas, and the prince and his
equipage to sail home with his new wife.
To the Rev. Joseph Mead.
London, March 28, 1623.
The prince's highness, the 7th of this
present . . . came with the lord mar
quis [Buckingham], to the Earl of
Bristol's house, at Madrid. . . . The
next morning, before they were up, the
king sent his favourite to welcome the
marquis, who, with the prince, pres
ently arose ; but yet, before they could
be ready to admit the favourite, the
king himself was come. Great was

the joy at meeting, and the king said,
though it were Lent, it should not be
Lent to him ; but he should have all
that he would, and the country could
afford. Yea, and the better to express
his affection, he desired the prince to
tell him wherein he should chiefly
pleasure him the first day ; who an
swered, in letting him see his mistress,
for whose sake he had undertaken so
long, wearisome and dangerous a jour
ney. The king promised, sent pres
ently for her to meet him in coach on a
plain. Abroad they go ; the prince
with the king in his coach (which
made the people wonder what stranger
it should be) ; the marquis in the fa
vourite's coach. The Lady Mary came
to the place appointed, and stood with
her coach abreast the king's. The
king bade her unmask, because he
would talk with her. She unmasks ;
they talk. The prince sees her, and
she him ; but they spake not together.
Then they parted, and the king brought
the prince back ; by which time the
rumour was spread abroad that it was
the prince. The people so flocked and
thronged to see him, that the coaches
could hardly pass. . . . The prince, as
is said, saw the lady three times, in
manner as at first, but still without
speaking to her. . . .
To the Rev. Joseph Mead.
London, Apr. 4th, 1623.
On Tuesday night last, our bells
rung merrily, and our streets glittered
with bon-fires, for joy of the prince's
safe coming to the Spanish court, and
his wonderful, great, and royal enter
tainment there. The prince, from
Paris to Madrid, being about 750
miles, in thirteen days ; which was
near upon sixty miles, one day with
another. The last Sunday came Mr.
Grimes, of the prince's bedchamber,
hither in fifteen days from Spain. . . .

58

James I.

To the Same.
London, April nth, 1623.
With the first and last ships, there
went, amongst others of the prince's
servants, eight of his footmen ; with
three more to go now, viz., the George,
of the king's, that goes to fetch back
the marquis, and two hired ships, to
carry eight great tilting horses and fair
ambling geldings, of the prince's;
there go twenty-two more of his foot
men, which, with the former eight,
make thirty, the very apparrelling of
which stands in £3,000.
John Chamberlain to Sir Dudley
Carleton.
London, April 19th, 1623.
. . . Sir John Wentworth ... is
lately become a Roman Catholic, for
sooth, as likewise the Lord Vaughan,
the prince's comptroller, who never
discovered himself till now, and it is
likely, at the infanta's coining, we shall
have many more fall away as fast as
withered leaves in autumn. . . . Let
men think and talk what they will, the
king knows more than we all, and is
very confident of the success, and joys
much to talk of the prince's journey.
May 3rd.
. . . Now for the infanta' s part : it
is said she is to have £8,000 jointure
for every £100,000 she is to bring,
which, being given out to be £600,000,
it will make a great breach into the
crown land, which hath been so much
weakened already, and this must be
confirmed by Parliament ; with divers
other prerogatives and privileges she is
to have more than ever Queen of Eng
land had. . . . The fleet is preparing
with all speed, and the prince's ship so
richly furnished with all manner of
bedding, hangings, and the like, as hath

not been seen at sea ; and all things are
so carried, as if we were to receive
some goddess to come among us. . . .
Rev. Joseph Mead to Sir Martin
Stuteville.
Christ College, May 24, 1623.
. . . All the prince's servants, chap
lains; and all, are said to be coming
back, as having not only no employ
ment, but no permission to come at
their master. That an inhibition from
our king is given to all the English in
Spain, merchants and others, not to
write anything into England to their
friends about the prince and his affairs.
My Lord Hay is returned, but tells
nothing, save only, that because he
would not lose his journey into Spain,
he made means to be honoured so
much as but to see the infanta, and kiss
her hand afore his return for England ;
which, with much difficulty and im
portunity, he at length obtained, and
was brought into a room, where she
was placed in a throne aloft, divers
steps from the ground, and gloriously
set forth, with her ladies about her.
But my lord, with his complimental
motions and approaches, could not
draw so much from her as the least
nod or inclination of her body; no, not
when he ascended up the steps unto
her, so much as to put out her hand to
him, when he was to kiss it; she re
maining all the while as immoveable
as the image of the Virgin Mary, when
suppliants bow to her on festival days.
This, they say, is the Spanish state.
He complimented with her, but what
she answered is not told. This I had
from Dr. Balcanqual's brother, and he
from him. May 30th, 1623.
. . . The Lord Leppington landed
this week, and hath brought back all,
or most part of the prince's servants

James I.

59

that were sent after him. They have
had the pleasure of going and coming
back from Spain by sea ; for I hear of
few or none but himself that went to
Madrid. . . .
In the mean time some mutter that
we presume much upon the Spaniard ;
that we trust him with our only prince,
the principal and richest jewel of the
crown, and the best part of our navy,
all at once ; besides so many other men
of worth. . . . We look daily to hear
the solemnization of the marriage.
The Lord Rochford is to bring the
news of the time appointed. . . .
London, June 14th.
Till yesterday we had no news out
of Spain this month or five weeks. . . .
But now Sir Francis Cottington and
Greisley are come together ; but we
say they have a caveat to divulge noth
ing. Yet the world doth guess there is
some difficult point that doth require
Cottington' s coming to the oracle. . . .
It should seem matters are not alto
gether so forward as we expected.
Rev. Joseph Mead to Sir Martin
Stuteville.
Christ College, June 21, 1623.
. . . God send our prince home
again : for the forenamed Mr. Elliot
told, sub sigillo, some suspicious pas
sages, as that the prince darest not
farther them, by intimation afar off, to
express his desire or will to be gone,
as fearing to be denied ; but passeth all
by compliments and such like.
The lord marquis, as is talked, hath
had in the Spanish court some check
of late, for forgetting himself so far as
to intimate a dislike of the slowness of
their despatch : whereupon Olivares
was sent to the prince to tell him, that
the lord marquis must consider how
great a prince the King of Spain was
when he came to speak into his pres

ence. Mr. Wren hath also this pas
sage : " There is no such matter here as
you talk in England, that the marriage
should be finished ; for there is not yet
so much as a match concluded."
To the Rev. Joseph Mead.
London, June 20th, 1623.
. . . The prince had on Saturday
before received a peremptory answer,
that the lady might not be married till
after Easter next. It was therefore in
his highness' s choice to stay there till
then, and so take her away with him,
or return home again. And the next
day after, his highness, the second
time, had speech with her since the first
time, on their Easter or our Palm Sun
day, which is strange wooing. . . .
Rev. Joseph. Mead to Sir Martin
Stuteville.
Christ College, Oct. 11, 1623.
I shall not need to tell you the prince
is come and at Royston. The news
came to our vice-chancellor on Monday
forenoon. Our bells rung all that day,
and the town made bonfires at night.
Tuesday, the bells continued ringing.
Every college had a speech, and one
dish more at supper, and bonfires and
squibs in their courts ; the townsmen
still continuing to warm their streets
in every corner, also, with bonfires,
lest they should not be merry when
we were. . . . We hear nothing of the
match at all, but yet we are sure yet
the infanta is not come. Oct. 24, 1623.
Our fleet should have wintered at
Portsmouth, with express terms to have
been the readier at the spring, to have
gone to fetch the lady infanta. . . .
But before that order came, the fleet
was gone from thence, and is now,
two days ago, come to Chatham, I

6o

James I.

believe. Not yet that Spain intends
any match, or ever did, nor, I hope, do
we now. . . .
John Chamberlain to Sir Dudley
Carleton.
London, Oct. 25th, 1623.
. . . Our courtiers, and others, that
were in Spain, begin now to open
their mouths, and speak liberally of the
coarse usage and entertainment, where
they found nothing but penury and
proud beggary, besides all other dis
courtesy ; insomuch, that even the
Romish Catholics complain of Gondo-
mar, who was their idol here, that he
used them as bad as the rest. And this
journey hath wrought one unexpected
effect, that whereas it was thought the
Spaniards and we should piece and grow
together, it seems we are generally more
disjointed and further asunder in affec
tions than ever. Besides the good it hath
done in religion, by laying open their
gross ignorance and superstition. . . .
To the Rev. Joseph Mead.
London, Nov. 21, 1623.
. . . The prince, whilst he was in
Spain, was so well entertained by the
king and his confessor, that both called
him heretic to his face, which he bravely
disproved, and being granted to see
a church in Madrid, though he entered
bareheaded, yet, because he would not
bow down to the host, where they said
Christ was, they forced him again out

of the church, and if he had made the
lesser haste back, they would have
thrust him out by head and shoulders.
This and much more the prince told
Dean White on Sunday night, as he
since told me. . . .
John Chamberlain to Sir Dudley
Carleton.
London, Feb. 22nd, 1623-4.
The king went to the parliament on
Thursday, with greater show and pomp
than I have seen to my remembrance.
I was so much and so many ways
invited, that I could not refuse to go ;
and, to say the truth, I went specially
to see the prince, who indeed is grown
a fine gentleman, and beyond all expec
tation I had of him when I saw him
last, which was not these seven years ;
and, indeed, I think he never looked
nor became himself better in all his life.
The king made a very gracious and
plausible speech, confessed he had been
deluded in the treaty of the match ; but
referring it now wholly to their con
sideration, whether it should go forward
or no. . . . July 1, 1624.
. . . Somebody is come out of Spain
with no pleasing news, and, they say,
brought back the prince's letter to the
infanta, unopened  The Mary
Rose, a ship of the king's, is making
ready for Spain, to fetch the jewels
re-delivered to our ambassador.

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Charles I.

61

GROUP IX.

CHARLES I. AND HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE.

i . Letter of Lord Kensington to
Prince Charles. (In Harris, Charles
I., London, 1814, p. 25.)
Paris, Feb. 26, 1624-5.
. . . Sir, if your intentions proceed
this way, as by many reasons of state
and wisdom, (there is cause now rather
to press it, than slacken it) you will
find a lady of as much loveliness and
sweetness to deserve your affection, as
any creature under heaven can do.
And, Sir, by all her fashions since my
being here, and by what I hear from
the ladies, it is most visible to me, her
infinite value, and respect unto you.
Sir, I say not this to betray your belief,
but from a true observation, and knowl
edge of this to be so : I tell you this,
and must somewhat more, in way of
admiration of the person of madam ;
for the impressions I had of her were
but ordinary, but the amazement ex
traordinary, to find her, as I protest
before God I did, the sweetest creature
in France. Her growth is very little
short of her age (15), and her wisdom
infinitely beyond it. I heard her dis
course with her mother, and the ladies
about her with extraordinary discre
tion and quickness. She dances (the
which I am a witness of) as well as
ever I saw any creature. They say she
sings most sweetly ; I am sure she
looks so.
2. Extracts from Private Letters.
(Court and Times of Charles I., Vol.
I-) John Chamberlain to Sir Dudley
Carleton.
London, April 23rd, 1625.
. . . The French match is said to be
in great forwardness, and to be cele
brated to-morrow. . . .

May 6th.
. . . The fancailles were performed
on Thursday, being their ascension, and
the marriage on Sunday last, our May
day. We had notice of the former on
Saturday night, and on Wednesday
evening we had bells and bonfires in
abundance upon news of the latter.
The bride is to set forward on Thurs
day next. . . . Here is great prepa
ration for shows and pageants, yet it is
thought the coronation will not be till
October, specially if the sickness in
crease. . . . May 28th.
... I was minded to send a list of
the Ladies that are appointed to meet
the queen at Dover : but it varies and
alters so often, that it were to no pur
pose. Their number is about four or
five and twenty : all . their coaches fur
nished with six horses, which conies
altogether now in fashion ; a vanity of
excessive charge, and of little use.
Dr. Meddus to Rev. Joseph Mead.
London, June 17th) I625.
The last night, at five o'clock, (there
being a very great shower) the king
and queen, in the royal barge, with
many other barges of honour, and
thousands of boats, passed through
London bridge to Whitehall ; infinite
numbers, besides those in wherries,
standing in houses, ships, lighters,
western barges ; and on each side of
the shore fifty good ships discharging
their ordnance as their majesties passed
along by, as, last of all, the Tower
did — such a peel as, I believe, she
never before heard the like. The king
and queen were both in green suits.
The barge windows, notwithstanding
the vehement shower, were open, and

62

Charles I.

all the people shouting amain. She
hath already given some good signs of
hope that she may ere long, by God's
blessing, become ours in religion.
She arrived at Dover on Sunday,
about eight in the evening, lay there in
the castle that night, whither the king
rode on Monday morning from Canter
bury, came thither after ten of -the
clock, and she being at meat, he stayed
in the presence till she had done, which
she advertised of, made short work,
rose, went unto him, kneeled down at
his feet, took and kissed his hand.
The king took her up in his arms,
kissed her, and talking with her, cast
down his eyes towards her feet (she,
seeming higher than report was, reach
ing to his shoulder) , which she soon
perceiving, discovered and showed him
her shoes, saying to this effect: "Sir,
I stand upon mine own feet ; I have no
helps by art. Thus high I am and am
neither higher nor lower." She is
nimble and quick, black eyed, brown
haired, and, in a word, a brave lady,
though perhaps a little touched with
the green sickness. . . .
The bells rung till midnight, and all
the streets were full of bonfires, and in
this one street were above thirty.
June 24th.
Last Sunday, the queen and hers
. . . were at high mass. . . . The
chapel goes on again. She had twenty-
nine priests, fourteen of them Thea-
tines, and fifteen seculars, besides a
bishop, a young man under thirty years
old. Extract from another letter, same
date.
The priests have been very importu
nate to have the chapel finished at St.
James's, but they find the king very
slow in doing that. His answer (some
told me) was, that if the queen's closet

where they now say mass, were not
large enough, let them have it in the
great chamber ; and if the great cham
ber was not wide enough, tliey might
use the garden ; and if the garden
would not serve their turn, then was
the park the fittest place. So, seeing
themselves slighted, they grow weary
of England, and wish themselves at
home again. Besides, unto the king's
devotions they cannot add, nor with all
their stratagems can bring him in the
least love with their fopperies. . . .
John Chamberlain to Sir Dudley
Carleton. June 25th.
. . . The queen hath brought, they
say, such a poor, pitiful sort of- women,
that there is not one worth the looking
after, saving herself and the Duchess
of Chevreuse, who though she be fair,
yet paints foully.
They (the parliament) begin to mut
ter about matters of religion, that the
king promised them, when he was
prince, that he would never contract a
marriage with conditions derogatory to
that we profess. . . . Some spare not
to say that all goes backward since this
connivance in religion came in, both in
our wealth, honour, valour, and reputa
tion, and that it is visibly seen God
blesses nothing that we take in hand.
Extract from the Autobiography of
Sir Simonds d' Ewes. (London,
1845. Vol. I. p. 2 J 2.) 1625.
On Thursday, the 30th and last day
of this instant June, I went to White
hall purposely to see the Queen ; which
I did fully all the time she sat at din
ner, and perceived her to be a most ab
solute delicate lady, after I had exactly
surveyed all the features of her face,
much enlivened by her radiant and
sparkling black eye. Besides, her de-

Charles I.

63

portment amongst her women was so
sweet and humble, and her speech and
looks to her other servants so mild and
gracious, as I could not abstain from
divers deep-fetched sighs to consider
that she wanted the knowledge of the
true religion.
Rev. Joseph Mead to Sir Martin
Stuteville. July 2nd, 1625.
. . . The friars so frequent the
queen's private chamber that the king
is much offended, and so told them,
having (as it is said) granted them
more than sufficient liberty in public.
This Mr. Mordaunt writes to me, and,
besides, that which follows: — "The
queen," saith he, "howsoever little of
stature, is of spirit and vigour, and
seems of a more than ordinary resolu
tion. With one frown, divers of us
being at Whitehall to see her being at
dinner, and the room somewhat over
heated with the fire and company, she
drove us all out of the chamber. I
suppose none but a queen could have
cast such a scowl." . . .
Oct. 3rd, 1625.
... I found a letter written to a
friend of mine . . . from a brother of
his, then at the court, at Tichfield,
whose contents are as follows :
"Tichfield, Hampshire, Sept. 24th.
— On Sunday, the 18th of this instant,
there preached at the queen's court, be
fore the officers Protestants, the minis
ter of that town. In the middle of his
sermon, the queen, with her lord cham
berlain and ladies of honour, came
through that congregation, and made
such a noise, as was admired, inso
much that the preacher was at a stand,
and demanded whether he might pro
ceed or no, but they still went on ; and
they passed through the hall where the
sermon was preaching, and went to the

court gates, and before the sermon was
ended returned the same way back
again, with a greater noise and disorder
than before. It is said, the queen was
set on to do it by her bishop, confessor
and priests. Upon the Tuesday fol
lowing, the minister, walking in his
garden, was shot at with hail-shot,
which did miss him miraculously, it
alighting about him." . . . Oct. 8th.
. . . Besides that pretty business of
the preacher at Tichfield, Dr. Weemes
tells me another like it, which happened
while he was at court there, some weeks
since, viz. : — That the king and queen
dining together in the presence, Mr.
Hacket being then to say grace, the
confessor would have prevented him,
but that Hacket shoved him away.
Whereupon the confessor went to the
queen's side, and was about to say
grace again, but that the king, pulling
the dishes unto him, and the carvers
falling to their business, hindered.
When the dinner was done, he thought,
standing by the queen, to have been be
fore Mr. Hacket ; but Mr. Hacket again
got the start. The confessor, never
theless, begins his grace as loud as Mr.
Hacket, with such a confusion, that the
king, in a great passion, instantly rose
from the table, and, taking the queen by
the hand, retired into the bedchamber.
Was not this a priestly discretion?
Dec. 17th, 1625.
. . . The king will keep his Christ
mas, they say, at Whitehall, and re
moves on Thursday. On Tuesday last,
I am told, the queen was in the Ex
change, and went nimbly from shop
to shop, and bought some knacks, till,
being discovered, she made away with
all the haste she could, and went that
night to Hampton Court. This was
a French trick, like to washing in the
Thames last summer.

64

Charles I.

Jan. 1 2th, 1625-6.
The queen's servants, perceiving they
were like to be discarded if they took
not the oath of allegiance, have now,
as I hear, all taken it saving the priests.
To the Rev. Joseph Mead.
Jan. 13th.
. . . The same afternoon the queen
was at the Tower, in her rich coach,
with seven others — her confessor's coach
being foremost, and hers following next
after — and returned by torchlight. . " . .
Rev. Joseph Mead to Sir Martin
Stuteville.
Christ College, Feb. 4th, 1625-6.
The coronation of the king was on
Thursday (as passengers from London
yesterday tell us), but private. The
•king went to Westminster Church by
water; the queen was not crowned,
but stood at a window in the meantime,
looking on, and her ladies frisking and
dancing in, the room. March 4th.
. . . On Tuesday, February 21st,
the queen and her ladies acted a pas
toral before the king, wherein herself
had the greatest part, and repeated, it
is said, 600 French verses by heart.
Mr. Pory to the Rev. Joseph Mead.
July ist, 1626.
. . . On Monday, about three in the
afternoon, the king, passing into the
queen's side [of the palace], and find
ing 'some Frenchmen, her servants, ,un-
reverently dancing and curvetting in her
presence, took her. by the hand, and
led her into his lodgings, locking the
door after him, and shutting out all,
saving only the Queen ; presently upon
this my Lord Conway called forth the
French bishop and others of that clergy
¦into St. James's Park, where he told
them, the king's pleasure was, all her
majesty's servants of that nation, men

and women, young and old, should
depart the kingdom, together with the
reasons that enforced his majesty so to
do. The bishop said much upon it
that, being in the nature of an ambas
sador, he could not go, unless the king
his master should command him. But
he was told again, that -the king his
master. had nothing to do here in Eng
land; and that, if he were unwilling
to go, England would send force enough
to convey him away hence.
The bishop had as much reason to
dance loth to depart, as the king and
all his well-affected subjects had to send
him packing ; for he had as much
power of conferring orders, and dis
pensing with sacraments, oaths, etc.,
as the pope could give ; and so, by
consequence, was a most dangerous
instrument to work the pope's ends
here. The king's message being thus de
livered by my Lord Conway, his lord
ship, accompanied with Mr. Treasurer,
and Mr. Comptroller, went into the
Queen's lodgings, and told all the
French likewise, that were there, that
his majesty's pleasure was, they should
all depart thence to Somerset House,
and remain there till they knew fur
ther h i s majesty' s pleasure. The
women howled and lamented, as if
they had been going to execution, but
all in vain ; for the yeomen of the
guard, by that lord's, appointment,
thrust them and all their country folks
out of the queen' s lodgings, and locked
the doors after them.
It is said also, the queen, when she
understood the design, grew very im
patient, and broke the glass windows
with her fist. But since, I hear, her
rage is appeased, and the king and she,
since they went together to Nonsuch,
have been very jocund together.
The same day, the French being all
at Somerset House, the king, as I have

Charles I,

65

heard some affirm, went thither, and
made a speech to them to this purpose :
that he hoped the good king, his
brother of France, would not take
amiss what he had done ; for the
French he said, (particular persons he
would tax) had occasioned many jars
and discontents between the king and
him ; such, indeed, as longer were in
sufferable. He prayed them, therefore,
to pardon him, if he sought his own
ease and safety; and said, moreover,
that he had given order to his treasurei
to reward every one of them for their
year's service. So the next morning,
being Tuesday, there was distributed
among them £11,000, in money, and
about £20,000 worth of jewels
Of this magnanimous act I think the
king hath such satisfactory reasons, as
will stop the mouths of all gain-sayers.
One might be the extravagant power
of this bishop, who, when he was last
in Fiance, suing to be a secretary of
state, fell short of that, and so took in
structions from the pope's nuncio;
which in case he could bring to effect,
he was promised a cardinal's hat, which
now lies in the dust. The rest of the
clergy were the most superstitious, tur
bulent, and Jesuitical priests that could
be found in all France, very fit to make
firebrands of sedition in a foreign state ;
so that his majesty, as long as he gave
them entertainment, did but nourish so
many vipers in his bosom. Nay, their
insolences towards the queen were not
to be endured ; for, besides that these
knaves would, by way of confession,
interrogate her how often the king had
kissed her; and no longer ago than
upon St. James' s-day last those hypo
critical dogs made the poor queen walk
afoot (some add barefoot) from her
house at St. James's to the gallows at
Tyburn, thereby to honor the saint of
the day in visiting that holy place,
where so many martyrs, forsooth, had

shed their blood in defence of the Cath
olic cause. Had they not also made
her to dabble in the dirt, in a foul
morning, from Somerset House to St.
James's, her luciferian confessor riding
along by her in his coach.* Yea, they
have made her to go barefoot, to spin,
to cut her meat out of dishes, to wait
at the table, to serve her servants, with
many other ridiculous and absurd pen
ances ; and if they dare thus insult over
the daughter, sister, and wife of so great
kings, what slavery would they not
make us, the people to undergo? Be
sides all this, letters of some of the
French about her majesty are said to
have been intercepted, by which it hath
appeared they have not only practised
with the pope on one side and the
English papists on the other side, but
have had intelligence also with the
Spaniard. It was intended they should have
presently departed, but they are not yet
gone, and Monday next is said to be
peremptory day of their departure.
Meanwhile, they took possession of all
the queen's apparel and linen which
they found at Somerset House, as being
their vales (whether plate or jewels
also I can not certainly tell) ; but the
queen having left her but one gown
and two smocks to her back, these
French booters were entreated by some
of the lords of the council to send her
majesty some apparel ; so they sent her
only one old satin gown, keeping all
the residue to themselves. Her master

*That Charles's provocation was pretty strong is
evidenced by the tone of a letter to Buckingham: " I
command you to send all the French away to-morrow
out of town, if you can, by fair means, but stick not
long in disputing; otherwise force them away, driving
them away like so many wild beasts, until you have
shipped them, and so the devil go with them. Let me
hear of no answer Dut of the performance of my com
mand So I rest your faithful, constant, loving friend,
C. R."
There were, according to a letter from Mr. Pory to
Rev Joseph Mead (Aug. 11, 1626), no less than 440 of
these amiable attendants.— Ed.

66

Charles I.

of the horse, likewise, the Count de
Lepieres, laid claim to all the horses
and furniture under his charge; but in
vain. It is hoped, after they are gone,
the queen will by degrees find the
sweetness of liberty, in being exempted
from those beggarly rudiments of
popish penance. . . .
To the Rev. Joseph Mead.
London, July 21, 1626.
We hear of a falling out between the
king and queen for her going in a kind
of devotion to visit that holy place of
Tyburn. This can those damned priests
about her make her do. Aug. 11.
Since my last, you shall understand,
that Monday last were attending at
Somerset House thirty coaches, and
fifty carts, to have, after dinner, carried
the French and their goods away. . . .
They would not depart, till they were
disengaged of moneys they stood en
gaged for, for the queen : as one bill of
£4,000 for necessaries of the queen ; a
second was the apothecary's bill of
£800, for drugs; and the third of the
bishop's . . . of £1,500, for his (un)-
holy water. . . . Aug. 17th.
. . . They were very sullen at their
first setting out from hence ; but their
kind entertainment by the way made
them more tame by that time they came
to Dover. A fellow there threw a
stone at Madame St. George, as she

was newly entered the boat ; where
upon an English knight that sat next
her stepped on shore and gave the fel
low a wound, which cost him his life.
The bishop being come to Rochester,
met there his commission from the
French king to ordain him ambassador,
notice whereof he presently sent his maj
esty ; but the king utterly rejected him,
saying he had done so many wrongs, as
he should never see his face more.

Description of Queen Henrietta Maria
in 1642. (From Memoirs of Sophia
of the Palatinate. Translated by For
rester.) The exquisite portraits of Van Dyck
had given me [The future Electress
was a little girl of nine at this time]
such an exalted idea of all the English
ladies that I was surprised to find the
queen, whom I had thought so beauti
ful on canvas, to be a little woman,
with long, scraggly arms, shoulders
uneven and teeth like fortifications pro
jecting from her mouth. All the same,
after looking at her well, I found her
eyes very lovely, her nose well-shaped
and her complexion admirable. She
did me the honor of saying that she
thought I looked a little like her daugh
ter, which pleased me so much that
after that I really did find her beautiful.
I overheard the English milords say
that when 1 grew up I would eclipse
all my sisters and this gave me an affec
tion for the whole nation, so pleasant
it is to be admired when one is young.

Charles I.

67

GROUP X.

PARLIAMENTARY GRIEVANCES AGAINST CHARLES I.

i. Extracts from the Autobiography
of Sir Simonds d'Ewes (London,
i84S-) 1625.
. . . The present parliament, which
had been adjourned or prorogued on
July the nth, at London, to begin
again at Oxford on August the 1st,
was now suddenly and unexpectedly
dissolved, to the great grief of all good
subjects that loved true religion, their
king, and the Commonwealth. For
this, being the first Parliament of our
royal Charles, should have been an
happy occasion and means to have
united and settled the affections of
Prince and people, in a firm concord
and correspondence. The Duke of
Buckingham, a most unfortunate man,
being now questioned for sundry par
ticulars, would rather hazard the final
overthrow of the public, than endeavour
to purge himself and justify his actions
by a speedy and humble defence. And
a happy moderation doubtless it had
been in the House of Commons, if at
that meeting they had winked at the
Duke's errors and fallen upon the con
sideration of many particulars in Church
and Commonwealth, which more needed
their help and assistance. But what
the Divine Providence hath decreed
must come to pass.

2. Extracts from Whitelocke' s Me
morials. (Oxford, 1853. Vol. I.)
[Whitelocke was a member of Parlia
ment.] 1626.
The king finding the discontents of
his subjects increased, thought fit to
call another parliament. . . .
The commons began to fall upon the
public grievances ; the miscarriage of

the late voyage to Cadiz ; the misem-
ployment of the king's revenue; evil
counsels ; favouring of papists ; the
loans, taxes, and many other, which
they referred to committees.
The privy council required the bishop
of Durham to apprehend such of his
majesty's subjects as should be pres
ent at mass, and to commit them to
prison. . . .
The king by message and the lords
press the commons for supplies. . . .
Mr. Clement Coke, in his speech in
the house of commons concerning griev
ances, said, that it were better to die by
an enemy than to suffer at home. . . .
The king sent a smart letter to the
speaker, pressing for present supplies ;
and promising redress of grievances
presented in a dutiful and mannerly
way. . . .
To this the commons returned a gen
eral answer, promising a supply : the
king replied, as to the clause of pre
senting grievances, that they should
apply themselves to redress grievances,
not to enquire after them. And said,
" I will not allow any of my servants
to be questioned among you, much less
such as are of eminent place, and near
unto me. I see you especially aim at
the duke [Buckingham] : I wonder
who hath so altered your affections
towards him."
Then he . . . concludes, " I would
you would hasten for my supply, or
else it will be worse for yourselves; for
if any evil happen, I think I shall be
the last that shall feel it. . . .
Sir John Elliot made a bold and
sharp speech against the duke, and
present grievances : yet in: the midst of
those agitations, the commons remem
bered the king's necessities, and voted

68

Charles I.

to grant three subsidies and three
fifteens. . . .
The king . . . mentioned Mr. Coke,
and said, it was better for a king to be
invaded and almost destroyed, by a
foreign power, than to be despised by
his own subjects. And bids them re
member, that the calling, sitting and
dissolving of parliaments was in his
power. . . .
At a conference with the lords, the
commons sent up an impeachment
against the duke of Bucks [Bucking
ham], managed by eight of their mem
bers. Sir Dudley Digges made an
eloquent introduction, comparing Eng
land to the world, the commons to the
earth and sea, the king to the sun, the
lords to the planets, the clergy to
the fire, the judges and magistrates to
the air, the duke of Bucks to a blazing
star. The articles were I. The sale of offices
and multiplicity of great offices in the
duke. II. His buying the office of ad
miral. . . . IV. The neglect of the
duty and trust of his office of admiral,
whereby pirates infested our coasts and
trade decayed. . . . These were ag
gravated by Mr. Pym. XII. His em
bezzling the king's money, and pro
curing grants to himself of crown lands
of a great value. Upon this Mi'. Sher-
land enlarged, and computed the sum
of his gifts to £284,391;. XIII. The
plaster and potions which the duke
caused to be given to king James in
his sickness, a transcendent presump
tion of a dangerous consequence.
This was aggravated by Mr. Wands-
ford, and sir John Elliot made the Epi
logue to the impeachment.
Sir Dudley Diggs and sir John Elliot
were committed to the tower ; and the
king came to the lords' house, and told
them of it : and that he could clear
Bucks of every one of the matters
whereof he was accused. . . .

The commons, upon commitment of
their members, caused the door of the
house to be shut, and would not pro
ceed in any other business till they were
righted in their liberties.
Whereupon sir Dudley Carleton in a
speech told them, that in other coun
tries, particularly in France, they had
formerly parliaments, as we have, but
when their parliamentary liberty was
turned into tumultuary license, and
their kings found how those councils
endeavored to curb them, they took
away and abolished those parliaments ;
and now the common people, wanting
good food, looked more like ghosts
than men, and went in canvass clothes
and wooden shoes. . . . His [Sir Dud
ley Carleton' s] friends had much ado
to keep him from being brought upon
his knees to the bar for his speech.
. . . But he went on . . .
At this time Cambridge chose the
duke of Bucks for their chancellor, to
please the king, and shew their dislike
to the commons. . .
They [the commons] agreed upon a
remonstrance against the duke, and con
cerning the king's taking of tunnage
and poundage, though not granted to
him by parliament. . . . The parlia
ment was dissolved June 15th, 1626,
unhappily. Thus this great, warm, and ruffling
parliament had its period.
Letter of Sir Simonds d' Ewes to Sir
Martin Stuteville. May 11.
. . . The king was, this morning,
in the upper house, and there com
plained of Sir John Elliot, for com
paring the duke to Sejanus, in which,
he said, implicitly he must intend him
self Tiberius. Shortly after ... he
sent both him and Sir Dudley Digges
to the Tower.

Charles I.

69

3. Extract from Sir Simonds d' Ewes'
Au tobiography . 1626.
Infinite almost was the sadness of
each man's heart, and the dejection of
his countenance that truly loved the
Church or Commonwealth, at the sud
den and abortive breach of the present
Parliament on Thursday, the 15th day
of this instant June. For the House of
Commons having transmitted up George
Duke of Buckingham to the Lords, as
guilty of many great and enormous
crimes, and especially because he had
given a potion and ministered plasters
to King James, in his last sickness, of
which it was doubted he died ; and the
Upper House thereupon, and for some
other offences, intending to question the
said Duke for his life ; all those pro
ceedings received a sudden check and
stop by this heavy and fatal dissolution.
. . . All men that truly loved God,
their king and country, had just cause
to lament so dismal and sad an accident.

4. Extracts from Private Letters.
(In Court and Times of Charles I.)
Rev. Jos. Mead to Sir Martin
Stuteville.
Christ College, July 22nd, 1626.
. . . On Monday the judges sat in
Westminster Hall to persuade the people
to pay subsidies ; but there arose a great
tumultuous shout amongst them. " A
parliament ! a parliament ! or else no
subsidies." . . . July 24th.
. . . This ill success in those and
some other places make a speech in
the mouths of some, as if his majesty
would supply himself by the sale of
lands in capite. . . . They of Scotland
cry out amain of the Duke of Bucking
ham, saying they will know how King
James, the Duke of Lennox, the Mar
quis of Hamilton came to their end.

Mr. Pory to Rev. Jos. Mead.
Aug. 17th, 1626.
. . . There is much talk of both
raising silver and gold coin two shil
lings in the pound, that the king may
make gain thereof. . . .
 to Rev. Joseph Mead.
August 25th, 1626.
Here hath been much ado about our
new coinage of silver and gold, for
which the king is to have in a pound
weight of gold 52 s., whereas it was
before but 15s.; and 3 s. 6 d. for a
pound weight of silver, which was
before but 2 s. 6 d. The Lords have
sitten many times about it, and sent for
some merchants for their opinions of
it; who, I know, are of opinion it is
a most dangerous project for the king
and kingdom ; for that although at
first the king may, perhaps, get much
by the coinage, yet it will overthrow
trade by the altering of the exchange,
much impoverish king and all men in
their revenues, improve Spain's bullion,
enhance the prices of all things, and
for the profit occasion foreign countries
to counterfeit truly our coin, and there
by deprive the king of his hope by
coinage, and therefore is thought will
not hold.  to the Rev. Jos. Mead.
London, Oct. 6th, 1626.
Though the parishes of St. Margaret' s
and St. Martin's in Westminster have
yielded to lend the king, according to
the date demanded of five subsidies ;
yet St. Clement's parish, the Strand,
the Duchy, with the Savoy, have
caused a riot, the most of them denying
to lend, and stand ready for a press
groat rather than yield a jot. Amongst
them, the Prophet Ball, the tailor, is
the chief man, who, for his boldness
in advising the Lords to more lawful
councils, is fast in the messenger's

70

Charles I.

hands. He quoted Scripture to them
mightily. Of these aforementioned
were those, who at the first, when the
subsidies were demanded, cried out for
a parliament. Unsigned Letter from London.
Feb. 2nd, 1626-7.
This week are ten knights and gentle
men of quality, of Northamptonshire,
committed to several prisons for refus
ing to subscribe and lend. . . . Lin
colnshire did little better than rebel.
. . . Shropshire hath utterly denied,
and so hath Devonshire, and the gentle
men of Warwickshire, that are sent for
up, do refuse to come. What dire
events may this next summer follow
upon this, together with the enmity
of Spain, France, and Flanders, God
only knows and can avert.
Rev. Jos. Mead to Sir Martin
Stuteville.
Christ College, Feb. 3d, Shrove Eve,
1626-7.
Besides what is in the enclosed,
holding the bottom of my second letter
against the fire till it grew brown, I
read as foUoweth :
" Sir — Will vou believe that the duke
[Buckingham] should be carried in his
box by six men to St. James's to tennis,
and the king walk by him on foot?
It is true. I doubt not but you have
heard of the play in Christmas, which
was begun again at the duke's entering,
the king having heard one full act."
Because my author was so private,
I thought not fit to make it so common
as the rest.
Unsigned Letter from London.
Feb. 9, 1626-7.
There is a new plot now on foot for
money. Every knight bachelor shall
have a riband, with a jewel of £5,

from the king, to wear continually for
distinction between them and gentle
men, for which they must pay presently
£25, and the refusers to be degraded.
Baronets for the like to pay £40.
Unsigned Letter from London.
March 16th, 1626-7.
Though but few or none yet know
of it, I can assure you, there is in agi
tation a royal visitation among the
clergy, which will strike as deep as the
loan of five subsidies doth with the
laity ; and it is very likely to proceed ;
the particulars whereof, with the pro
jectors, you shall know hereafter.
Letter to the Rev. Joseph Mead.
Nov. 23, 1627.
There is a new loan of 120 or
£150,000 projected, to be paid in by
the Lords and others of the Privy
Council, and by the rich officers of the
Chancery, the Exchequer, and the
Court of Wards.
Rev. Joseph Mead to Sir Martin
Stuteville.
Candlemas Day, Feb. 2nd, 1627-8.
Because the last news I heard is the
best, and I am loth to keep you too
long from it, you shall have it in thef
first place ; namely, that after many
projects consulted upon, as base coin,-
whereof every man to receive a share,
and an impost of two shillings or two
and sixpence a chaldron upon coals,
which on Monday last was said to be
concluded upon : all such devices are
now dashed, and on Tuesday night a
parliament resolved on, to begin on
Monday the 17th of March, which I
pray God to speed, and direct all their
consultations for the public good, set
ting aside all sources of contention and
disagreement.

Charles I.

7i

Letter of Rev. Joseph Mead to Sir
Martin Stuteville. April 19th, 1628.
. . . The same day (Apr. 12) came
a startling message from his majesty :
" His majesty having long since given
timely notice unto you . . . wills you
to take heed you force him not to make
an unpleasing end of that which hath
been so happily begun."
Upon the delivery of this message
the second time, (for the House so
would have it) all being sad and silent,
up starts Sir Francis Nethersole, in-
treating licence of the House, that he
might report his last night's dream,
with protestation he would truly deliver
it. Whereat some laughing, he told
them kingdoms had been saved by
dreams. So they bade him go on.
And this it was, according to the per-
fectest relation, I heard thereof. He
saw two goodly pastures ; a flock of
sheep in one of them ; and a bellwether
alone in the other ; a great ditch be
tween them both, and a narrow bridge
over that ditch. Here the speaker,
with good words of his person, mildly
interrupted him, saying it stood not
with the gravity of the House to hear
dreams. But the' gentlemen desired to
hear it out: so on he went. "Some
times," said he, "the sheep would go
over unto the bellwether ; sometimes
the bellwether to the sheep. On a
time, both met on the narrow bridge,
and the question was, who should go
back, since they could not both go on,
without danger to be overthrown in the
ditch. One sheep gave counsel that
the sheep on the bridge should lie on
their bellies, and let the bellwether go
over their backs." The application to
the house.
Sir John Elliot thanked the speaker
for interrupting the gentleman, saying

it became not the gravity of that House
to hear dreams told. Sir Edward Coke
said, that of dreams there were three
kinds, prophetical, natural and fantas
tical, and that this dream was of the
third and last sort. Sir Thomas Went-
worth said, he would let pass the
dream, and speak to his majesty's mes
sage, which he did.. . . .
April 28th, 1628.
What news we received on Saturday
you shall find enclosed, and with it the
king's speech on Monday before. I
saw also the keeper's preamble, and
the petition for unbilleting of soldiers ;
but because they were long, and I had
no scribe to write them, I have not
furnished you with them. And, alas !
what delight could you find in reading
them, when you must hear, that since
that time all is grown woful and des
perate? I have not yet seen this day's
letters ; yet all that come from London
tell us that the parliament is not like to
hold above three or four days ; that the
greater part of the Lords stand for the
king's prerogative against the subjects'
liberties ; that my lord president made
a speech in the upper house on the
king's behalf, endeavouring to show the
inconveniences which might follow in
having our king's [hands] so tied.
Against whom the Earl of Arundel
stood up, confuted him, and made a
public protestation against him and the
rest who were of the same opinion,
concluding that those liberties which
now they would betray, were those
which had cost so much of their pred
ecessors' blood to maintain them ; and
for his own part, he was resolved to
lose his own life, and spend his own
blood, rather than he would ever give
consent to the betraying of them. Of
his part were fifty lords and earls. . . .
The bishops were divided. . . . The
Bishop of Lincoln [was] much com-

72

Charles I.

mended for what he spoke on behalf of
the subject, acknowledging he had once
offended in the days of his late master,
in standing for the prerogative to the
prejudice of the subjects' liberties ; for
which he now desired forgiveness, pro
fessing that henceforward neither hope
of greater preferments, nor fear of the
loss of what he presently enjoyed,
should make him do or speak against
his conscience.
The attorney, they say, motioned
that the liberties they claimed might be
moderated, and so his majesty and they
should sooner agree. But Sir Edward
Coke said that the true mother would
never consent to the dividing of her
child. Whereat the duke swore that
he did as much as intimate that the
king, his master, was [an abandoned
woman]. The House of Commons, I am told,
sat four days without speaking or doing
anything ; and are resolved to grant no
subsidies till his majesty give them
assurance of the continuance of their
liberties. A gentleman told me, that
they desired of the king but to confirm
that of their persons with a mitigation,
namely, that none should be imprisoned
above two months before they came to
their answer. That they offered to
pass the five subsidies, which were
formally agreed upon by a general
committee, to be paid between this and
next Candlemas : and to add, more
over, whatsoever further supply should
be necessary : and yet his majesty re
fused them. Whereupon Sir Edward
Coke said publicly, that no king of
England ever had the like offer made
him by his subjects ; nor ever King
Christian denied his subjects so reason
able and equal request. That they
meddled neither with favourite or cour
tier ; but only desired a confirmation of
the liberties granted and enjoyed by
their predecessors for many ages : and

should they not obtain it? . . . The
general voice is, all is nought, and no
hope of good conclusion left, which
God if it be his blessed will avert, and
beyond our hope bring us out of these
woful straits, though we can see no
way of deliverance from them. . .
June 15th, 1628.
I know you have heard of that black
and doleful Thursday, June the 5th,
the day I arrived in London ; which
was by degrees occasioned first of his
majesty's unsatisfactory answer on
Monday ; increased by a message after
wards, that his majesty was resolved
neither to add to nor alter the answer
he had given them. Hereupon they
fell to recount the miscarriages of our
government, and the disasters of all
our designs these later years, represent
ing everything to the life ; but the first
day glancing only at the duke, but not
naming him. On Wednesday they
proceeded farther to the naming of him ;
Sir Edward Coke breaking the ice, and
the rest following, so that on Thursday,
they growing still more vehement, and
ready to fall downright upon him, a
message was sent from his majesty, ab
solutely forbidding them to meddle
with the government or any of his
majesty's ministers; but, if they meant
to have this session, forthwith to finish
what they have begun : otherwise his
majesty would dismiss them. Then
appeared such a spectacle of passions,
as the like had seldom been seen in
such an assembly, some weeping, some
expostulating, some prophecying of the
fatal ruin of our kingdom ; some play
ing the divines, in confessing their own
and country's sins, which drew those
judgments upon us ; some finding, as it
were, fault with those that wept, and
expressing their bold and courageous
resolutions against the enemies of the
king and kingdom.

GEORGE VILLIERS, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.
(The original painting is by Van der Werit.)

Charles I.

73

I have been told, by a parliament
man, that there were above an hundred
weeping eyes, many who offered to
speak being interrupted and silenced
by their own passions. But they stayed
not here, but as grieved men are wont,
all this doleful distemper showered
down upon the Duke of Buckingham
as the cause and author of all their
misery, in the midst of these their
pangs crying out most bitterly against
him, as the abuser of the king and
enemy of the kingdom. At which
time, Mr. Speaker, not able, as he
seemed, any longer to behold so woful
a spectacle in so grave a senate, with
tears flowing in his eyes, besought them
to grant him leave to go out for half an
hour ; which being granted him, he
went presently to his majesty, and in
formed him what a state the House was
in, and came presently back with a
message to dismiss the House of all
committees from further proceeding,
until next morning, when they should
know his majesty's pleasure farther.
The like was sent to the Lord's House,
and not there entertained without some
tears; both Houses accepting it as a
preparation to a dissolution, which they
expected would be next morning. But
this is observable (I hear it from a par
liament knight) that, had not the
speaker returned at that very moment,
they had voted the duke a traitor and
arch enemy to the king and kingdom,
with a worse appendix thereto, some
say true. They were then calling to the
question, when the speaker came in, but
then stayed to hear his message. . . .
June 21st, Saturday, 1628.
On Saturday, . . . June 14, after
dinner, the king and duke being at
bowls in the Spring Garden, or, as
some say, looking on those who were
playing at bowls, the duke put on his
hat. A Scottishman, one Wilson, see

ing it, kisses his hand, and snatches it
off, saying, " You must not stand with
your hat on before my king." The
duke falling to kick him, the king said,
"Let him, George; he is either mad
or a fool." — "No, sir," quoth Wilson,
"I am a sober man; but this man's
health is pledged with as much devo
tion at Dunkirk, as your majesty's
here." .
St. Peter's Eve, June 29, 1628.
That barbarous rabble, which mauled
and mangled Dr. Lamb [who had been
murdered on June 13th in a tumult that
began by some boys calling him the
Duke' s devil~\, did it in reference to the
duke his master, as they called him,
whom, they said, had he been there,
they would have handled worse, and
would have minced his flesh, and have
had every one a bit of him. . . .
This week, about Wednesday, his
majesty went with the duke, (taking
him into his coach, and so riding
through the city, as it were to grace
him) to Deptford, to see the ships:
where, having seen ten fair ships ready
rigged for Rocheile, they say he uttered
these words to the duke : " George,
there are some that wish that these and
thou mightest both perish. But care
not for them : we will both perish to
gether, if thou doest."

5. Letter from Portsmouth of Sir
Dudley Carleton to the Queen. (In
Ellis: ist Series, 3rd volume, p. 256.)
Maddam, I am to trouble your Grace
with a most Lamentable Relation ; This
day [Aug. 23] betwixt nine and ten of
the clock in the morning, the Duke of
Buckingham then coming out of a
Parlor, into a Hall, to goe to his coach
and soe to the king (who was four
miles of) having about him diverse
Lords, Colonells and Captains, and
manv of his owne Servants, was by one

74

Charles I.

Felton (once a Lieutenant of this our
Army) slaine at one blow, with a dag
ger-knife. In his staggering he turn'd
about, uttering onely this word, " Vil-
laine " and never spake word more,
but presently plucking out the knife
from himselfe, before he fell to the
ground, hee made towards the Traytor,
two or three paces, and then fell against
a Table although he were upheld by
diverse that were neere him, that
(through the villaines close carriage in
the act) could not perceive him hurt at
all, but guessed him to be suddenly
overs way' d with some apoplexie, till
they saw the blood come gushing from
his mouth and the wound, soe fast, that
life and breath at once left his begored
body. Maddam, you may easily guesse
what outcryes were then made, by us
that were Commaunders and Officers
there present, when wee saw him thus
dead in a moment, and slaine by an un-
knowne hand ; for it seemes that the
Duke himselfe only knew who it was
that had murdered him, and by meanes
of the confused presse at the instant
about his person, wee neither did nor
could. . . .
But to returne to the screeches made
att the fatall blow given, the Duchesse
of Buckingham and Countess of An
glesey came forth into a Gallery which
looked into the Hall where they might
behold the blood of their deerest Lord
gushing from him. Ah poore Ladies,
such was their screechings, teares and
distractions, that I never in my Life
heard the like before, and hope never
to hear the like againe.

6. Extract from the Autobiography
of Sir Simonds d'Ewes. 1628.
Some of his friends had advised him
[Buckingham] how generally he was
hated in England, and how needful it

would be for his greater safety to wear
some coat of mail or some other secret
defensive armour : which the Duke
slighting, said, "It needs not; there
are no Roman spirits left." August
the 23rd, being Saturday, the Duke
having eaten his breakfast between
eight and nine o'clock in the morning,
in one Mr. Mason's house in Ports
mouth, was then hasting away to the
king, who lay at Reswick, some five
miles distant, to have some speedy con
ference with him. Being come to the
further part of the entry leading out of
the parlour into the hall of the house,
he had there some conference with Sir
Thomas Frier, Knt., a colonel, and
stooping down in taking his leave of
him, John Felton, a gentleman, having
watched his opportunity, thrust a long
knife with a white haft he had secretly
about him, with great strength and vio
lence, into his breast, under his left
pap, cutting the diaphragm and lungs,
and piercing the very heart itself. . . .
He pulled out the knife himself, and
being carried by his servants unto the
table that stood in the same hall, hav
ing struggled with death near upon
a quarter of an hour he gave up
the ghost about ten of the clock the
same forenoon, and lay a long time
after he was dead upon the hall table
there. . . .
Mr. Felton, even to his death, avowed
. . . that the love only of the public
good induced him to that act. For,
having read the Remonstrance the
House of Commons preferred to the
King in the late session of Parliament,
by which the Duke was branded to be
a capital enemy to Church and State,
and that there was no public justice
to be had against him, he had strong
inward workings and resolutions to
sacrifice himself for the Church and
State.

Charles I.

75

... 7. Private Letters regarding
Sir John Elliot.
Mr. Pory to Sir Thomas Puckering.
Jan. 12, 1631-2.
This other day, Sir John Elliot's at-
torney-at-law told me he had been with
him long since his removal into his new
lodging, and found him the same cheer
ful, healthful, undaunted man that ever
he was. . . .
Mr. Pory to Lord Brooke.
Oct. 25th, 1632.
. . . On Tuesday was sennight, Mr.
Mason, of Lincoln's Inn, made a mo
tion to the judges of the King's Bench
for Sir John Elliot, that whereas the
doctors were of opinion he could never
recover of his consumption until such
time as he might breathe in purer air,
they would for some certain time grant
him his enlargement for that purpose.
Whereunto my Lord Chief Justice
Richardson answered, that, although
Sir John were brought low in body,
yet was he as high and lofty in mind as
ever; for he would neither submit to
the king nor to the justice of that court.
In fine, it was concluded by the Bench
to refer him to the king by way of
petition.

8. Extracts from the Autobiography
of Sir Simonds d'Ewes. [Written in
1638.] This year [1635. There had been
no parliament in all this time] brought
forth many sad and dismal effects in
the public, both at home and abroad.
... At home the liberty of the sub
jects of England received the most
deadly and fatal blow it. had been sen
sible of in five hundred years last past ;
for writs were issued the summer fore
going to all the sheriffs of .England, to
levy great sums of money in all the
,counties of the same kingdom and

Wales, under pretext and colour to
provide ships for the defence of the
kingdom, although we were now in
peace with all the world, and the royal
fleet was never stronger or in better
case. The sum now to be levied came
to some £320,000, and if this could be
done lawfully, then by the same right
the king upon the like pretence might
gather the same sum ten, twelve, or a
hundred times redoubled, and so to in
finite proportions to any one shire,
when and as often as he pleased ; and
so no man was, in conclusion, worth
anything. I conceived the king himself might
be informed this taxation and levy was
lawful ; but it was afterwards cleared
by Sir George Crooke, Knt., one of the
justices of the King's Bench, in his ar
gument in the Exchequer Chamber . . .
that this taxation was absolutely against
law, and an utter oppression of the sub
jects' liberty, who had such a property
in their goods as could not be taken
from them by any taxes or levies, but
such only as were enacted and set down
by Act of Parliament. . . . Sir John
Denham, the ancientest Baron of the
Exchequer, gave the same judgment
for the liberty of the subject. And,
indeed all our liberties were now at
one dash utterly ruined if the king
might at his pleasure lay what unlim
ited taxes he pleased on his subjects,
and then imprison them when they re
fused to pay; for though to take men's
estates away might in the issue bring
on poverty and death, yet that is not so
certain a way nor so speedy to shorten
our lives as imprisonment is, where, by
restraint of exercise and unwholesome
air, many men must as necessarily
perish as by the sword. Besides, what
shall freemen differ from the ancient
bondsmen and villains of England, if
their estates be subject to arbitrary
taxes, tallages and impositions? . . .

76

Charles I.

In all my life I never saw so many sad
faces in England as this new taxation,
called ship-money, occasioned ; nay,
the grief and astonishment of most
men's hearts broke out into sad and
doleful complaints, not only under the
burthen they felt at the instant, but
with ominous presage of the issue ; for
many refused absolutely to pay.# and
most that did pay it, yielded out of
mere fear and horror of greater dan
ger : whence the before-mentioned Mr.
Judge Hutton said plainly in his argu
ment, that " it was not the king's pre
rogative to take his subjects' goods
from them with their heartburnings."
For mine own part, I so far desired
the peace and quiet of the kingdom, as
I could have wished this tax had been
annexed to the Crown (to levy annu
ally without alteration) by Act of Par
liament ; but thus to pluck away the
subjects' goods and estates from them
contrary to their ancient and hereditary
liberties, by force and power, what can
the issue of it be but fatal? Some
were so overwise as to think the king
the happier because he should now
never need any Parliament ; but alas !
in that they were grossly deceived, un
less they will say it is a happiness for
a Prince to want the love of his sub
jects, to have truth concealed from him,
and to have the distempers of Church
and Commonwealth to grow unto in
curable diseases. . . . Kings are but
men ; and it is their miseries for the
most part, either not to be informed of
the miseries and calamities of their sub
jects at all, or if they be, to have the
matter smothered up by some great
ones, or to have some private emolu
ment by it. . . . There are only three
cases in which, by the ancient law of
England, the kings of that realm may
require aid of their subjects without the
public consent of their kingdom : I st.
In case the Sovereign be taken pris

oner, to redeem him. 2d. For the
knighting of his eldest son. 3d. For
the marriage of his eldest daughter,
once only. But yet these aids are not
like this ship-money, without bounds
or limits, to be levied of all men, and
in what proportion the king shall
please ; for they can only be levied of
knights' fees, and such as hold their
lands by that tenure ; and the utmost
that can be required is but forty shil
lings upon each knight's fee.

9. Extracts from Nehemiah Wal-
lington's Historical Notices (Ed. Webb.
London, 1870, Vol. I.).
. . . There hath come from Ireland
many such sad pitiful letters, concern
ing the miserable and sad condition of
the poor protestants there, with the
great increase of their enemies the
Rebels, that it should make our hearts
bleed ; but I give you but a taste of the
bitter cup that they drink of. And
still they lie languishing and crying
unto us, saying, Have you no pity
of me, O you in England? Oh have
ye no regard, all you that hear of my
miseries? -Behold and see if there be
any sorrow like unto my sorrow which
is done unto me, wherewith the Lord
hath afflicted me in the day of his fierce
wrath. In October 1641, when the Rebels
did first arise in Ireland, there were
the Sufferings and Miseries of my wife's
Brother, Zachariah Rampain, his wife
and five children, four of his children
dwelling in the house with him, having
every child a maid-servant attending
on them ; his wife and children very
tenderly brought up, and he a man
well-beloved and of a great estate,
dwelling in the north part of Ireland,
in the county of Fermanagh, near
Enniskillen. Captain Adkinson (which was kin
to my Brother's first wife) being in

Charles I.

77

Castlecoule, in the county of Fer
managh, knowing of the Rebels com
ing, sent to speak to my Brother, and
caused him to bring his family and
goods into the Castle, and they did by
Saturday night get in what goods they
could into the Castle ; and on Monday,
Brian Maguire came with his Army
against it, and took the castle ; and the
next day my Brother and his family
had a pass under Brian's hand to depart
the Kingdom, and they sent a guard
along with them, and then sent another
company after them to murder them.
So when they were gone about six
miles off, they stripped them all, and
bid them say their prayers, for they
would kill them all. Then they first
did kill my Brother Zachariah, stabbing
their skenes (swords) into him (as
also his wife's brother, and a gentle
man, they killed there in like manner
also, cutting all their throats after they
had stabbed them) ; which his wife
beholding did on her knees beg for his
life, as also his children, crying piti
fully, "O do not kill my Father, O
do not kill my Father," being much
distracted, pulling their hair, being con
tent and desiring to die with him. But
these bloody Rebels did drive them
from him, saying they would reserve
them for a worse death, even to starve
them to death.
Then my sister and her four children,
and her maids, and a gentlewoman
(whose husband they then had hewed
to pieces before their faces) they went
all naked on a mount, and sat starving
there. . . . Then my sister did get
into Coule Castle, again, to Captain
Adkinson, but she was got into an old
house, but could get no relief, and then,
having intelligence she should be cut
all to pieces, she then did get away,
and in her journey by the way she had
two children starved to death with
hunger and cold. . . .

Now mark what foUoweth, " He
that sheddeth blood, by man shall his
blood be shed" saith the Lord.
It was not long after but it was known
that one of those men that had a hand
in killing my brother, he was killed,
and I make no question but the rest are,
or will be, in God' s time. And towards
the latter end of May 1641, was the
Earl of Strafford, Deputy of Ireland,
that was a great agent employed by the
king in shedding of the blood of the
Protestants in Ireland, beheaded on
the scaffold upon Tower Hill.
. . . Above three score times was
this Earl of Strafford spoken of in the
House of Commons. For, from the
first day of their sitting, which was the
7th of November, 1640, till the 10th
of May, 1 64 1, still now and then he
was complained of, and spoken of in
the House. And surely I do not know
of anything they had so-long in hand as
this Earl of Strafford, for he was very
cunning and very tough in the handling.

10. Extracts from M. Baillie, Letters
and Journals. (Edinb., 1841. Vol. I.,
p. 314.) [Relating to the Trial of
Strafford by the Parliament. Begun
Monday, March 22nd, 1640-1.]
Westminster Hall is a roome as long
[and] as broad if not more than the outer
house of the High Church of Glasgow,
supponing the pillars were removed. In
the midst of it was erected a stage like
to that prepared for the Assemblie of
Glasgow, but much more large, taking
up the breadth of the whole House from
wall to wall, and of the length more-
than a thrid part. At the north end
was set a throne for the King, and a
chayre for the Prince ; before it lay a
large wool-seek, covered with green,
for my Lord Steward, the Earle of
Arundaill; beneath it lay two other
seeks for my Lord Keeper and the
Judges, with the rest of the Chancerie„

78

Charles I.

all in their red robes. Beneath this a
little table for four or fyve Clerks of
the Parliament in their black gowns;
round about these some furmes
[benches] covered with green freese,
whereupon the Earles and Lords did
sit in their red robes, of that same fash
ion, lyned with the same whyte ermin
skinnc-s, as you see the robes of our
Lords when they ryde in Parliament;
the Lords on their right sleeve having
two barres of whyte skinnes, the Vis
counts two and ane half, the Earles
three, the Marquess of Wincester three
and ane half, England hath no more
Marquesses : and he bot one late up
start of creature of Queen Elizabeth's.
Hamilton goes here bot among the
Earles, and that a late one, Dukes, they
have none in Parliament : York, Rich
mond, and Buckinghame are but boyes ;
Lennox goeth among the late Earles.
Behind the formes where the Lords sitt,
there is a barr covered with green : at
the one end standeth the Committee of
eight or ten gentlemen, appoynted by
the House of Commons to pursue : at
the midst there is a little dask, where
the prisoner Strafford stands and sitts
as he pleaseth, together with his keeper,
Sir William Balfour, the Lieutenant of
the Tower. At the back of this is a
dask, for Strafford's four secretars,
who carries his papers and assists him
in writing and reading ; at their side is
a voyd for witnesses to stand ; and be-
hinde them a long dask at the wall of
the room for Strafford's counsell-at-law,
some five or six able lawyers, who were
not permitted to disputt in matter of
fact, but questions of right, ' if ane
should be incident. This is the order
of the House below on the floore ; the
same that is used dailie in the Higher
House. Upon the two sides of the
House, east and west, there arose a
stage of elevin ranks of formes, the
highest touching the roof ; everyone of

these formes went from one end of the
roome to the other, and contained about
fortie men. . . . All the doores were
keeped verie straitlie with guards ; we
always behooved to be there a little
after five in the morning. . . . By
favour we got place within the raile,
among the Commons. The House
was full dailie before seven ; against
eight the Earle of Strafford came in his
barge from the Tower, accompanied
with the Lieutenant and a guard of
musqueteers and halberders. The
Lords, in their robes were sett about
eight; the king was usuallie halfe an
howre before them : he came not into
his throne, for that would have marred
the action ; for it is the order of Eng
land, that when the king appears, he
speaks what he will, bot no other
speaks in his presence. At the back of
the throne, there was two rooms on the
two sydes ; in the one did Duke de Van-
den, Duke de Vallet, and other French
nobles sitt ; in the other the king, the
queen, Princesse Mary, the Prince
Elector, and some Court ladies ; the tir-
lies, that made them to be secret, the king
brake down with his own hands ; so they
sat in the eye of all, bot little more re
garded than if they had been absent ; for
the Lords sat all covered ; these of the
Lower House, and all other except the
French noblemen, sat discovered when
the Lords came, not else. A number
of ladies wes in boxes, above the railes,
for which they payed much money. It
was dailie the most glorious Assemblie
the Isle could afford ; yet the gravitie
not such as I expected ; oft great clam
our without about the doores ; in the
intervalles, while Strafford was making
readie for answers, the Lords got
alwayes to their feet, walked and clat
tered ; the Lower House men too loud
clattering ; after ten houres, much pub-
lict eating, not onlie of confections, bot
of flesh and bread, bottles of beer and

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Charles I.

79

wine going thick from mouth to mouth
without cups, and all this in the king's
eye ; . . . there was no outgoing to
returne ; and oft the sitting was till
two, or three, or four o'clock.
The first session was on Mononday
the 22nd of March. All being sett, as
I have said, the Prince in his robes on
a little chyre at the syde of the throne,
the Chamberland and Black-Rod went
and fetched in my Lord Strafford ; he
was alwayes in the same sute of black,
as in doole. At the entrie he gave a
low courtesie, proceeding a little, he
gave a second, when he came to his
dask a third, then at the barr, the fore-
face of his dask, he kneeled: ryseing
quicklie, he saluted both sides of the
Houses, and then satt down. Some
few of the Lords lifted their hatts to
him ; this was his dailie carriage.
My Lord Steward, in a sentence or
two, shew that the House of Commons
had accused the Earle of Strafford of
High Treason, that he was there to
answer ; that they might manadge their
evidence as they thought meet. They
desyred one of the Clerks to read their
impeachment. I sent you long agoe
the printed copie. . . .
On Tuesday the 13th, all being sett
as before, Strafford made a speech
large two hours and ane half ; went
through all the articles. ... To all he
repeated not (nought) new, bot the
best of his former answers ; and in the
end, after some lashness and fagging,
he made such ane pathetick oration for
ane half houre, as ever comedian did
upon a stage. The matter and ex
pression was exceeding brave : doubt
less, if he had grace or civill goodness,
he is a most eloquent man. The speech
you have it here in print. One pas-
sadge made it most spoken of; his
breaking off in weeping and silence,
when he spoke of his first wife. Some
took it for a true defect of his mem-

orie ; others, and the most part, for a
notable part of his rhetorick ; some
that true grief, and remorse at that
remembrance, had stopped his mouth ;
for they say, that his first Lady, the
Earl of Clare's sister, being with child,
and finding one of his  's letters,
brought it to him, and chideing him
therefore, he stroke her on the breast,
whereof shortlie she died. Mr. Glyn
did follow with a speech three houres
long ; the great length of the speech
made him fagg in the end. He referred
the odiousness of the cryme to the
handeling of another. This was Mr.
Pym, who truelie, to the confession of
all, in half ane hour, made one of the
most eloquent, wise free speeches, that
ever we heard, or I think shall ever
hear. Some of the passages of it, and
no more bot some, and these defaced, I
send yow in print, as they have been
taken in speaking by some common
hand. To humble the man, God lett
his memorie faill him a little before
the end. His papers he looked on ;
bot they could not help him to a point
or two, so he behoved to passe them :
I believe the King never heard a lec
ture of so free language against that his
idolised prerogative. . . . For diverse
dayes thereafter the House of Commons
went on with their Bill of Attainture.
When it wasreadie and read three diverse
dayes, at last it was voyced and carried,
only fifty- eight contradicting. For this
there was great joy among us all, and
praise to God. These friends of Straf
ford' s were much discountenanced by all
honest men. Some printed their names,
and fixed them on publict wayes.

1 1 . Conclusion of the Earl of Straf
ford' s Defence. (In Somers' Tracts,
Edited by Walter Scott, Vol. IV.
1810.) . . . My lords, there yet remains
another treason that I should be guilty

8o

Charles I.

of ; the endeavoring to subvert the fun
damental laws of the land, that they
should now be treason together, that is
not treason in any one part. . . . Under
favor, my lords, I do not conceive that
there is either statute law, nor common
law, that doth declare the endeavoring
to subvert the fundamental laws to be
high treason. . . . And yet I have
been diligent to enquire (as I believe
you think it doth concern me to do).
It is hard to be questioned for life
and honor, upon a law that can not be
shown. . . . Where hath this fire lain
all this while, so many hundreds of
years, without any smoke to discover it,
till it thus burst forth to consume me
and my children? Extreme hard in
my opinion, that punishment should
precede promulgation of a law, [that I
should be] punished by a law subse
quent to the acts done. . . . My lords,
it is hard in another respect, — that
there should be no token set upon this
offence, by which we should know it,
no admonition by which we should be
aware of it.
If a man pass down the Thames in
a boat, and it be split upon an anchor,
no buoy being set as a token that there
is an anchor there, that party that owns
the anchor, by the maritime laws, shall
give satisfaction for the damage done ;
but if it were marked out, I must come
upon my own peril. Now where is
the mark upon this crime, where is the
token that this is high treason? If it
be under water, and not above water,
no human providence can avail, nor
prevent my destruction. Lay aside all
human wisdom, and let us rest upon
divine revelation, if you will condemn
before you forewarn of the danger.
Oh my lords, may your lordships
be pleased to give that regard unto the
peerage of England, as never to suffer
ourselves to be put on those nice points.
... If there must be a trial of wits, I

do most humbly beseech you the sub
ject and matter may be somewhat else
than the lives and honors of peers.
My lords we find that in the prim
itive times, in the progression of the
plain doctrine of the apostles, they
brought the books of curious arts, and
burned them, and so likewise, as I do
conceive, it will be wisdom and provi
dence in your lordships, for your pos
terity and the whole kingdom, to cast
from you into the fire these bloody and
most mysterious volumes of construc
tive and arbitrary treason, and to be
take yourselves to the plain letter of the
law and statute, that telleth us where
the crime is, and by telling what is,
and what is not, shows how to avoid it.
And let us not be ambitious to be more
wise and learned in the killing arts than
our forefathers were.
It is now full 240 years since ever
any man was touched for this alledged
crime (to this height) before myself :
we have lived happily to ourselves at
home, and we have lived gloriously to
the world abroad. Let us rest con
tented with that which our fathers left
us, and not awake those sleepy lions to
our own destructions, by taking up a
few musty records, that have lain so
many ages by the walls, quite forgotten
and neglected. . . .
My lords, I have now troubled you
longer than I should have done : were
it not for the interest of those dear
pledges a saint in Heaven hath left me,
I should be loath my lords (There he
stopped) .
What I forfeit for myself, it is noth
ing, but that my indiscretion should
forfeit for my child, it even woundeth
me deep to the very soul. You will
pardon my infirmity; something I
should have said, but I am not able,
(and sighed), therefore let it pass.
And now, my lords, I have been, by
the blessing of Almighty God, taught

Charles I.

81

that the afflictions of this life present,
are not to be compared to the eternal
weight of glory that shall be revealed
to us hereafter.
And so, my lords, even so with tran
quility of mind, I do submit myself
freely and clearly to your lordships'
judgment, and whether that righteous
judgment shall be to life or death,
Te Deum laudamus,
te dominum confitemur.

12. Extracts from Whitelocke' s Me
morials. 1641.
Certainly never any man acted such
a part on such a theatre with more wis
dom, constancy and eloquence, with
greater reason, judgment and temper,
and with a better grace in all his words
and gestures, than this great and excel
lent person did ; and he moved the
hearts of all his auditors (some few ex
cepted) to remorse and pity. . . .
After this, a bill was brought into
the house of commons to attaint the
earl of high treason ; upon debate
whereof, they voted him guilty of high
treason. May 1.
The king called both houses of par
liament together, and did passionately
desire of them not to proceed severely
against the earl, whom he answered
for, as to most of the main particulars
of the charge against him; tells them
that in conscience he can not condemn
the earl of high treason, and that
neither fear nor any other respect
should make him go against his con
science. . . .
The bill for continuance of the par
liament was brought into the house the
next morning after it was propounded.
. . . This bill, and the act of attainder,
being both passed by the commons, a
conference was had with the lords after

they had passed them ; and a message
sent by some lords to the king, to en
treat his answer, who promised to
satisfy them within two days.
The king being much perplexed
upon the tendering of these two bills
to him, between the clamours of a dis
contented people and an unsatisfied
conscience ; he took advice (as some
reported) of several of the bishops,
and of others his intimate councillors,
what to do in this intricate affair ; and
that the major part of them urged to
him the opinions of the judges, that
this was treason, and the bill legal.
They pressed likewise the votes of the
parliament, that he was but one man,
that no other expedient could be found
out to appease the enraged people, and
that the consequences of a furious mul
titude would be very terrible.
Upon all which they persuaded him
to pass the bills.
But the chief motive was said'to be
a letter of the Earl of Strafford, then
sent unto him, wherein the gallant earl
takes notice of these things, and what
is best for his majesty in these straits,
and to set his conscience at liberty :
he doth most humbly beseech him for
prevention of such mischief as may
happen by his refusal to pass the bill,
to remove him out of the way,
' ' towards that blessed agreement
which God, I trust, shall forever estab
lish betwixt you and your subjects.
Sir, my consent herein shall more ac
quit you to God, than all the world can
do besides : to a willing man there is
no injury done."
If not base betraying of their master
by these passages, and by some private
dealings, the king was persuaded to
sign a commission to three lords to pass
these two bills; and that he should
ever be brought to it was admired
[wondered at] by most of his subjects,
as well as by foreigners.

82

Charles I.

After he had signed these bills, the
king sent secretary Carleton to the earl
. . . who seriously asked the secretary
whether his majesty had passed the bill
or not ; as not believing without some
astonishment that the king would have
done it.
And being assured that it was passed,
he rose up from his chair, lift up his
eyes to Heaven, laid his hand on his
heart, and said, Put not your trust in
princes, nor in the sons of men, for in
them there is no salvation. . . . He
made on the scaffold a most ingenious,
charitable, and pious speech and pray
ers . . . and died with charity, cour
age, and general lamentation. . . .

ernment, and deprive the king of his
legal power, and to place on subjects
an arbitrary and tyrannical power, by
foul aspersions on his majesty and his
government, to alienate the affections
of his people, and to make him odious."

13. Extract from Whitelocke (The
Five Members), 1641.
The king being informed that some
members of parliament had private
meetings, and a correspondence with
the Scots, and countenanced the late
tumults from the city, he gave a warrant
to repair to their lodgings, and to seal
up the trunks, studies and chambers of
the lord Kimbolton, Mr. Pym, Mr.
Hampden, Mr. Hollis, sir Arthur Hasle-
rigge, and Mr. Stroud ; which was
done. The house of commons having
notice hereof whilst it was in doing,
Jan. 3rd, 1641, they passed this vote:
. . . "that if any person whatsoever
shall offer to arrest or detain the person
of any member without first acquaint
ing this house, that it is lawful for such
member, or any person to assist him,
and to stand upon his or their guard
of defence, and to make a resistance,
according to the protestation taken to
defend the privileges of parliament."
The king being put to it, caused
articles of high treason and other mis
demeanors to be prepared against those
five members, "For endeavouring to
subvert the fundamental laws and gov-

14. Extract from Nehemiah Wal-
lington. (Lond., 1870. Vol. I. p. 282
ff.) 4th of January, Tuesday, the House
of Commons meeting there was a Re
port made to the House, that his
Majesty would be there that afternoon,
to give answer to their petition delivered
the night before.
About two of the clock his Majesty
came into the House of Commons, and
the Speaker rising out of his place,
he sat therein ; and demanding of his
prisoners, Mr. Pym, Mr. Hollis, and
so the rest, who were not there to be
found, he made a short speech, com
manding the House to send them to
him so soon as they came, otherwise he
would take them where he found them,
and wished them to proceed in their
affairs, without any fear of his con-
cordancy with them to all their just
requests, or words to that effect. So
demanding his prisoners again, he left
the House. . . .
A great deliverance (of us all, but
especially) of those Five dear Servants
of God and worthy members of the
House of Commons : Mr. Denzil Hol
lis, Sir Arthur Haslerigg, Mr. John
Pym, Mr. John Hampden, and Mr.
William Stroud. O let this great
Mercy of our God, on this day, the 4th
of January 1642, never be forgotten to
the world's end. But tell it to your
children, that they may tell it to their
children, how God did miraculously
deliver his servants on the 4th of Janu
ary, being Tuesday, 1642 ; how that
" many soldiers, and papists, and

Charles I.

83

others, to the number of five hundred,
came with his Majesty to the said
House of Commons, armed with
swords, pistols and other weapons,
and divers of them pressed to the door
of the said House, thrust away the
door-keepers, and placed themselves
between the said door, and the ordinary
attendances of his Majesty : holding up
their swords, and some holding up
their pistols ready cocked near the said
door, and saying, ' I am a good Marks
man, I can hit right, I warrant you ; '
and they not suffering the said door,
according to the custom of Parliament,
to be shut ; but said they would have
the door open, and if any opposition
were against them, they made no ques
tion but they should make their party
good, and that they would maintain
their party, and when several Members
of the House of Commons were com
ing into the House, their attendants
desiring that room might be made for
them ; some of the said soldiers an
swered, ' Let them come and be hanged,
what ado is here with the House of
Commons ; ' and some of the said sol
diers did likewise violently assault, and
by force disarm, some of the Attend
ants and Servants of the Members of
the House of Commons, waiting in the
room next the said House ; and upon
the King's return out of the said House,
many of them by wicked oaths, and
otherwise, expressed much discontent
that some Members of the said House,
for whom they came, were not there.
And others of them said, When comes
the word ? And no word being given
at his Majesty' s coming out, they cried
' A lane ; a lane ; ' afterwards some of
them being demanded, what they
thought the said company intended to
have done, answered, That, question
less, in the posture, they were set, if the
word had been given, they should have
fallen upon the House of Commons,

and have cut all their throats ; upon all
which we are of opinion that it is suffi
ciently proved that the coming of the
said soldiers, papists and others, with
his Majesty to the House of Commons
on Tuesday the 4th of January, in the
manner aforesaid, was to take away
some of the members of the said House,
and if they should have found opposi
tion, or denial, then to have fallen upon
the said House in a hostile manner :
And we do hereby declare that the
same was a traitorous design against
the King and Parliament. And whereas
the said Mr. Hollis, Sir Arthur Hasle-
rigg, Mr. Pym, Mr. Hampden, and
Mr. Strode, upon the report of the
coming of the said soldiers . . . did,
with the approbation of the House,
absent themselves from the service of
the House, for the avoiding the great
and many inconveniences, which other
wise apparently might have happened :
Since which time a printed paper in
the form of a proclamation hath issued
out for the apprehending and imprison
ing of them, therein suggesting that
through the conscience of their own
guilt they were absent and fled, not
willing to submit themselves to justice :
We do further declare that the said
printed paper is false and scandalous
and illegal." . . .
On Thursday the 6th of January, the
Committees of both houses met at
Guild Hall. . . .
This Thursday night being the 6th
of January, I desire might never be
forgotten. For in the dead time of the
night there was great bouncing at every
man's door to be up in their arms pres
ently, and to stand on his guard, both
in the City and Suburbs, for we heard
(as we lay in our beds) a great cry in
the streets that there were horse and
foot coming against the city. So the
gates were shut, and the cullisses let
down, and the chains put across the

84

Charles I.

corners of our streets, and every man
ready on his arms. And women and
children did then arise, and fear and
trembling entered on all. And some
took such fright that night that it cost
them their lives ; as Alderman Adams
his wife, my neighbour, she took such
a fright that night that she died of it
the next Tuesday at five o'clock in the
morning. And although some might
slight, jest, and scoff at this, and think
and say there was no cause, and that
we were more fright than hurt ; yet it
is certain enough, that had not the
Lord of His mercy stirred us up to
bestir ourselves, it would have gone
hard enough with us. Again there was
great cause of fear, being but a day or
two since the King in a rage went with
his five hundred soldiers with their pis
tols and swords, intending death to
those five good men (Mr. Pym etc.)
. . . and the King having hundreds of
soldiers out of the north, of a fierce
countenance, skilful to destroy ; and I
heard of deadly weapons newly made,
which were to be struck into the body,
and could not be pulled out again. . . .

15. Extracts from Whitelocke.
Great numbers of people gathered
together in a very tumultuous manner
about Whitehall and Westminster ; and
it was a dismal thing to all sober men,
especially members of1 parliament, to
see and hear them.
The king fearing danger from them,
or perhaps by the unfortunate counsel
of papists as some reported, thought
fit to remove to Hampton Court, and

took with him the queen, prince, and
duke of York. . . .
The next day the five members were
triumphantly brought from London to
Westminster by water, by a great num
ber of citizens and seamen in boats and
barges, with guns and flags, braving as
they passed by Whitehall, and making
large protestations at Westminster of
their adherence to the parliament. . . .
The parliament were busy in debates
touching the ordering of the militia for
the several counties ; in which some
declared their opinions that, the power
of the militia was solely in the king,
and ought to be left to him . . . others
were of the opinion that the king had
not this power in him, but that it was
solely in the parliament, and that if the
king refused to order the same accord
ing to the advice of the parliament,
that then they by law might do it with
out him : and this was moved to be
now done by the parliament, . . .
Then they ordain the power of the
militia, for defence of the parliament,
Tower, and city of London. . . .
Aug. 22. The king at Nottingham
erects his standard. . . . The earl of
Essex's colours was a deep yellow,
others setting up another colour were
held malignants, and ill-affected to the
parliament's cause. . . .
About the beginning of November
the two princes palatine, Rupert and
Maurice, arrived in England, and were
put into command in the army of the
king their uncle ; who had now got
together a potent army.
[Civil War.]

pt^yPklNCEP^ RlTP£,R% DEI GRA.COMEf PALATIN, RhZNI,
C-jf J-Jcnrio C / e ctorah. JDilx fj cup-ariic etc. Jv apiLifiirtvL- crrcLurivi
"enfcelicLis cuirei&- C-cixuzi eix. .

I

Charles I.

85

GROUP XL
TRIAL AND EXECUTION OF CHARLES I.

1. Extracts from Whitelocke, 1648-
9 A. D.
. . . This morning Sir Thomas Wid
drington and I being together, Mr.
Smith, who was clerk to the committee
for preparing the charge against the
king, came to us with a message from
the committee, that they required us to
come to them this day, they having
some matters of importance wherein
they desired our advice and assistance ;
and that we must not fail them.
I knew what the business was, and
I told sir Thomas Widdrington that I
was resolved not to meddle in that busi
ness about the trial of the king ; it
being contrary to my judgment, as I
had declared myself in the house.
Sir Thomas Widdrington said he was
of the same judgment, and would have
no hand in that business, but he knew
not whither to go to be out of the way,
and that the committee might not know
whither to send to him.
I replied, that my coach was ready,
and I was this morning going out of
town purposely to avoid this business,
and if he pleased to go with me we
might be quiet at my house in the
country. . . .
The council of war ordered, that
nothing be done upon the knee to the
king, and that all ceremonies of state
to him be left off, and his attendance to
be with fewer and at less charge. . . .
The committee for drawing up a
charge against the king, and to con
sider of the manner of his trial, re
ported an ordinance for attainting the
king of high treason. . . . The charge
was to this effect :
That Charles Stuart had acted con
trary to his trust, in departing from the
parliament, setting up his standard,
making a war against them, and there
by been the occasion of much blood

shed and misery to the people whom
he was set over for good ; that he gave
commissions to Irish rebels, and since
was the occasion of a second war, and
had done contrary to the liberties of
the subject, and tending to the destruc
tion of the fundamental laws and liber
ties of this kingdom. . . .
This vote was passed as a foundation
for these proceedings :
That the lords and commons as
sembled in parliament, do declare and
adjudge, that by the fundamental laws
of this realm, it is treason in the king
of England for the time to come, to
levy war against the parliament and
kingdom of England. . . .
The ordinance for trial of the king
was carried up to the lords, of whom
sixteen then sat : they stuck much upon
the declaratory vote, That it was
treason in the king to levy war against
the parliament. . . . The commons
taking notice that the lords had rejected
their ordinance for trial of the king,
and had adjourned their house, they
sent some of their members to examine
the lords' journal book, and they re
ported to the commons three votes
passed by the lords :
1. To send answer by messengers of their
own. 2. That their lordships did not concur to
the declaration.
3. That they had rejected the ordinance for
trial ofthe king.
Hereupon the commons voted,
That all their members and others ap
pointed to act in any ordinance wherein the
lords are joined with them, shall be em
powered and enjoined to sit, act, and execute
in the said several committees of themselves,
notwithstanding the house of peers join not
with them.
Order that the ordinance fir trial of the
king, and the declaration from which the
lords dissented, and which are intended for
both houses, shall now be by the commons
only. . . .

86

Charles I.

The commissioners for trial of the
king met, and chose sergeant Bradshaw
for their president, Mr. Steel to be
attorney general, Mr. Coke solicitor-
general, and they with Dr. Dorislaus
and Mr. Aske to draw up and manage
the charge against the king. . . .
The high court of justice sat in the
place in Westminster-hall made for
them, the president had the sword and
mace carried before him, and twenty
gentlemen attended as his guard. . . .
After an Oyes, and silence made, the
act of the commons of England for
sitting of the court was read, and the
court was called, sixty of the mem
bers appeared.
The king was brought from St.
James's to Whitehall, and from thence
by water, guarded with musketeers in
boats. . . .
He was charged in the name of
Charles Stuart king of England,
as guilty of all the blood that had been
shed at Kenton, Brentford, Newbury
and other places . . . and other par
ticulars very large.
The king smiled at the reading of
his charge, and after it was read, de
manded of the president by what law
ful authority he was brought hither,
and being answered, In the name of
the commons of England,
He replied he saw no lords there
which should make a parliament, in
cluding the king; and urged, that the
kingdom of England was hereditary
and not successive, and that he should
betray his trust if he acknowledged or
made answer to them, for that he was
not convinced that they were a lawful
authority. . . .
(2nd hearing.) . . . The clerk of
the court read this aloud :
Charles Stuart, king of England, you
have been accused on the behalf of the peo
ple of England of high treason and other
crimes; the court have determined that you
ought to answer the same.

King. I will answer the same, so soon as.
I know by what authority you do this.
President. If this be all that you would
say, then, gentlemen, you that brought the
prisoner hither, take charge of him b:ick
again. King. I do require that I may give in my
reasons why I do not answer, and give me
time for that.
President. It is not for prisoners to require.
King. Prisoners! sir, I am not an ordi
nary prisoner.
President. The court hath considered of
their jurisdiction; and they have already
affirmed their jurisdiction; if you will not
answer, we shall give order to record your
default. King. You never heard my reasons yet.
President. Sir, your reasons are not to be
heard against the highest jurisdiction.
King. Shew me what jurisdiction, where
reason is not to be heard.
President. Sir, we show it you here, the
commons of England ; and the next time you
are brought, you will know more of the
pleasure of the court, and, it may be, their
final determination.
King. Show me wherever the house of
commons were a court of judicature of that
kind. President. Sergeant, take away the pris
oner. King. Well, sir, remember that the king
is not suffered to give in his reasons for the
liberty and freedom of all his subjects.
President. Sir, you are not to have liberty
to use this language ; how great a friend you
have been to the laws and liberties of the
people, let all England and the world judge.
King. Sir, under favour, it was the lib
erty, freedom and laws of the subject that
ever I took to defend myself with arms ; I
never took up arms against the people, but
for the laws.
President. The command of the court
must be obeyed, no answer will be given to
the charge.
King. Well, sir. . . .
[3rd hearing] President. Sir, this is the
third time that you have publicly disavowed
this court, and put an affront upon it; but
how far you have preserved the liberties of
the people, your actions have spoke it; but
truly, sir, men's intentions ought to be
known by their actions; you have written
your meaning in bloody characters through
out the kingdom. But, sir, you understand
the pleasure of the court. Clerk, record the

Charles I.

87

default. And, gentlemen, you that took the
charge of the prisoner, take him back again.
King. I will say this one word more to
you, if it were my own particular, I would
not say any more to interrupt you.
President. Sir, you have heard the pleas
ure of the court, and you are (notwithstand
ing you will not understand it) to find that
you are before a court of justice. . . .
Jan. 27, 1648-9.
The high court of justice sat in
Westminster Hall, the president in his
scarlet robe, and many of the commis
sioners in their best habit.
After the calling of the court, the
king came in, in his wonted posture,
with his hat on ; as he passed by in the
hall, a cry was made, Justice, justice I
Execution, execution I This was by
some soldiers and others of the rabble.
After this the clerk was commanded
to read the sentence, which recited the
charge, and the several crimes of which
he had been found guilty :
For all which treasons and crimes,
the court did adjudge, that he the said
Charles Stuart, as a tyrant, traitor,
murderer, and public enemy, shall be
put to death by the severing of his
head from his body.
The king then desired to be heard,
but it would not be permitted, being
after sentence ; and as he returned
through the hall, there was another cry
for Justice and Execution. Here we
may take notice of the abject baseness
of some vulgar spirits, who, seeing their
king in that condition, endeavoured, in
their small capacity, further to promote
his misery, that they might a little curry
favour with the present powers, and pick
thanks of their then superiors. . . .
A prince is not exempt from the
venom of these mad dogs. . . .
I was much troubled at the passing
of sentence of death against the king,
and heartily prayed that it might not
be executed, . . .

The king's children came from Sion-
house to visit him at St. James's ; he
took the princess in his arms, and
kissed her, and gave her two seals with
diamonds, and prayed for the blessing
of God upon her and the rest of his
children ; and there was great weeping.

2. Extracts from Warwick, Memoirs
of the Reign of Charles I. Second
Edition. Lond., 1702, p. 336 ff.
By this traiterous and tumultuous
body (the Commons) the King is
brought to his tryall and removed from
Windsor to St. James's and from thence
soon brought to Westminster Hall :
where he finds a pretended High Court
of Justice, consisting of a President, one
Bradshaw (heretofore a very meanly
qualified lawyer, but a bold and seditious
person) and of Cromwell and most of
his cheife officers, and some of the
King's own faithless servants, as Sir
Henry Mildmay, the Lord Mounson,
Sir John Danvers, and Cornelius Hol
land (one that had been Clerk of his
kitchen, and was then of the Green-
Cloth) the rest high-flown Parliament-
men. These to make their proceedings
the more solemn, made their Serjeant at
Amies in Westminster Hall, the old
Exchange, etc., to summon in any
person, that would come and accuse the
King : and then they break his great
Seal, and make one of their own,
impressing upon it the Cross for Eng
land and the Harp for Ireland on the
one side, and the House of Commons,
as the true sovereigns of this nation on
the other : and these words about it :
The first yeare of Freedome, etc.,
1648. Before this sort of vile men this
good prince is brought : and injustice
must necessarily sit on the bench, when
justice is dragged to the barr. The
insolent President bids the King hearken
to his charge, and a babbling and brazen-

88

Charles I.

faced Sollicitor, one Cook, accuseth him
in the name of the Commons of Eng
land, and of all the people thereof
(which God knows was not one of a
thousand) of treason : charging him
that by a tyrannicall power he had
endeavoured to overthrow the rights and
liberties of this people, and to defend
himselfe in his traiterous practice, he
had maliciously levied a warre. . . .
The King smiled at the foule appella
tions of Tyrant, Traitor, etc. ... as
their Sovereign and King, he denied any
authority to be over him. . . .
. But after all, these nefarious men,
who thirsted after the King's blood,
would now brutishly suck it : so then
give sentence upon him to sever his
head from his body, which sentence
passed on Saturday, January, 1648 ; and
he is carried back by his Guard unto St.
James's. In the passage to his tryall,
he is mett and reviled by some, and
tobacco blown in his mouth, and his
face spitt upon by others. One honest
soldier said but " God bless you, Sir,"
and his Captain caned him ; the King
told the Captain the punishment ex
ceeded the offence. About the barr a
numerous rabble cry out for justice
against him, and in the Court he is
saucily treated by all the Officers.
The King's deportment was very
majestick and steady ; and tho' his
tongue usually hesitated, yet it was very
free at this time, for he was never dis
composed in mind. And yet as he con
test himself to the Bishop of London,
that attended him, one action shockt
him very much : for whilst he was lean
ing in the Court upon his staff, which
had an head of gold, the head broke off
on a sudden ; he took it up, but seemed
unconcerned ; yet told the Bishop, It
really made a great impression upon
him, and to this hour (sayes he) I know
not possibly how it should come. T'was
an accident, I confess, I myselfe have

often thought on, and cannot imagine
how it came about : unless Hugh Peters
(who was truly and really his Gaoler,
for at St. James nobody went to him,
but by Peters' s leave) had artificially
tampered upon his staff ; but such con
jectures are of no use.
. . . He required Mr. Herbert, (a
Gentleman who was appointed to attend
him, and who had bin very civill to
him and whom he recommended like
wise to the present King) to call him at
four of the clock in the morning ; and
Mr. Herbert slept little himselfe, lying
by him on a pallet-bed ; but observed
through the whole night, that the King
slept very soundly, and at his hour
awak'd himself, and drew his curtain.
He soon got up, was about an hour at
his own private devotions, and then
called to be drest ; and Mr. Herbert,
who was wont to comb his head, combed
it that morning with less care than
usually : Prethee (says he) tho' it be
not long to stand on my shoulders, take
the same paines with it, you were wont
to do : "I am to be a Bridegroom to-day
and must be trimm."
Extract from Herbert's Memoirs.
(London, 1815, p. 183. )
The King commanded Mr. Herbert
to lie by his Bedside upon a Pallat,
where he took small rest, that being the
last Night his Gracious Sovereign and
Master enjoy' d ; but nevertheless the
King for Four Hours or thereabouts,
slept soundly, and awaking about Two
Hours afore day, he opened his curtain
to call Mr. Herbert ; there being a great
Cake of Wax set in a Silver Bason, that
then as at all other times, burned all
night; so that he perceiv'd him some
what disturb'd in sleep, but calling him,
bad him rise; For, (said his Majesty) I
will get up, having a great Work to do
this Day; . . . He then appointed what
Cloaths he would wear; "Let me have

Charles I.

89

a Shirt on more than ordinary," said the
King, "by reason the season is so sharp
as probably may make me shake, which
some Observers will imagine proceeds
from fear. I would have no such
Imputation. I fear not Death. Death
is not terrible to me. I bless my soul I
am prepared." . . .
Warwick's Memoirs, Continued.
When he was called, he marcht to
the scaffold; and a Gentleman of my
acquaintance, that had so placed him
self in Wallingfordhouse, that he could
easily discern all that was done upon the
scaffold, protested to me, he saw him
come out of the Banquetting-house on
the scaffold with the same unconcern-
ednes and motion, that he usually had
when he entered into it on a Masque-
night. And another Gentleman, whom
Pie name, Dr. Farrar, a Physician (a
man of a pious heart, but phancifull
brain : for this was he that would have
had the King and Parliament have
decided their business by lot) had
gained such a place upon the stage, that
he assured me, that as he had observed
him before very majestick and steddy ;
so when he had laid down his neck
upon the block, he standing at some dis
tance from him in a right line, he per
ceived his eye as quick and lively as
ever he had seen it. . . .

3. Extract from Whitelocke.
Divers companies of foot and horse
were on every side of the scaffold, and
great multitudes of people came to be
spectators : the king looked earnestly
on the block, asked if there were no
place higher, and, directing his speech
to the gentlemen upon the scaffold, he
spake to this effect : [at great length.]
Then turning to the officers he said,
Sirs, excuse me for this same ; I have a
good c.iu-e, and I have a gracious God: I
-will s iy no more.

Then turning to colonel Hacker, he
said, Take care that they do not put me to pain,
and, sir, this, and it please you.
Then a gentlemen coming near the
axe, the king said,
Take heed ofthe axe, pray take heed ofthe
axe. Then he said to the executioner,
I shall say but very short prayers, and
then thrust out my hands.
Two men in disguise and vizors stood
upon the scaffold for executioners.
Then the king called to Dr. Juxon
for his night-cap, and having put it on,
he said to the executioner, " Does my
hair trouble you?" He desired it
might all be put under the cap, which
the king did accordingly, by the help
of the executioner and the bishop.
Then the king turning to Dr. Juxon
said, I have a good cause and a gracious God on
my side
Dr. Juxon. There is but one stage more,
this stage is turbulent and troublesome, it is
a short one, but you may consider it will soon
carry you a very great way, it will carry you
from earth to heaven, and there you shall
find a great deal of cordial joy and comfort.
King. I go from a corruptible to an in
corruptible crown, where no disturbance can
be. Dr. Juxon. You are exchanged from a
temporal to an eternal crown, a good ex
change. Then the king took off his cloak and
his george, which he gave to Dr. Juxon,
saying, Remember. Some other small
ceremonies were passed, after which
the king stooping down laid his neck
upon the block, and after a very little
pause, stretching forth his hands, the
executioner at one blow severed his
head from his body.
The king died with true magnanim
ity and Christian patience ; his body
was put in a coffin, covered with black
velvet, and removed to his lodging
chamber in Whitehall. At this scene

90

Charles I.

were many sighs and weeping eyes,
and divers strove to dip their handker
chiefs in his blood, as in the blood of a
martyr. Extract from John Milton. (Quoted
in Harris, Charles I., p. 484.)
If you say that Charles died as he
lived, I agree with you : if you say-
that he died piously, holily, and at
ease, you may remember that his grand
mother Mary, an infamous woman,
died on a scaffold with as much out
ward appearance of piety, sanctity, and
constancy as he did. And lest you
should ascribe too much to that pres
ence of mind, which some common
malefactors have so great a measure of
at their death, many times despair, and
a hardened heart putting on, as it were,
a vizor of courage, and stupidity a
shew of quiet and tranquillity of mind :
sometimes the worst of men desire to
appear good, undaunted, innocent, and
now and then religious, not only in
their life but at their death ; and in suf
fering death for their villanies are wont
to act the last part of their hypocrisy
and cheats with all the show imagin
able ; and like bad poets, or stage-
players, are very ambitious of being
clapped at the end of the play.

4. Letter from Joseph Kent, at
Venice, to another Englishman abroad.
(In Ellis, Original Letters. London,
1827. Second Series, Vol. III. p.
339-) Noble Sir : I humbly beg your par
don for my last weeks silence, for I
vow to God I was so strangely sur
prised with grief, that I could not pre-
vaile with my troubled minde for half
an hours repose, to give you some re
lation of the sad and unexemplary
murther of our Soveraign, whose soul
is at rest.

The Antwerp Post came this morn
ing, but without any Letters from our
scandalous Island. I will impart with
you what I have learnt from thence
and Holland, concerning it. . . .
Gregory the ordinary hangman of
London was commanded to assist to
the king's death, which he refused, but
to invite him to it he was proffered
two hundred pounds, which he would
not hear of ; then they threatened to
burn him, and at last imprisoned him,
because he would not consent to so
great a wickedness ; but a Judas will
never be wanting, a Collonel formerly
a brazier (to the great dishonour of
the noble military art) with his servant
a minister, both masked were those
who cut the thread of His Majestie' s
life, and, in it, his loyal subjects hap
piness. A rogue of a minister, after
his head was severed from his sacred
body, elevated it publicly to the people ;
and which is more inhuman, its written
that the little Duke of Gloucester was
placed against the scaffold to see his
father sacrificed. . . . My humble duty
and respects to noble Sir R. Wyllis,
and all the other gentlemen of the na
tion, to whom I know you will impart
this, although most horrid news. . . .
Mr. Bayly very affectionately salutes
Sir Richard and your noble self, to
whom I will ever continue,
Noble Sir,
Your most affectionate and most
humble servant,
Jos. Kent.
Venice the 1 ith Marche, Thursday.

5. Letter of James Howell to Sir
William Boswell. (In Howell's Fa
miliar Letters, London 1892, Vol. II.
P- 552-)
Sir, That black Tragedy which was
lately acted here, as it hath filled most
hearts among us with consternation and

Charles I.

91

horror, so I believe it hath been no less
resented abroad. For my own partic
ular, the more I ruminate upon it, the
more it astonisheth my imagination,
and shaketh all the cells of my Brain ;
so that sometimes I struggle with my
Faith, and have much ado to believe it
yet. I shall give over wond'ring at
anything hereafter, nothing shall seem
strange unto me ; only I will attend
with patience how England will thrive,
now that she is let blood in the Basil-
ical Vein, and cur'd, as they say, of
the King' s-Evil. . . .
Your most humble servitor

Fleet, 20 March, 1648.

J. H.

6. Extracts from "The Confession
of the Hangman concerning His be
heading his late Majesty the King of
Great Brittain (upon his Death bed)
who was buried on Thursday last, in
white Chappel Churchyard, with the
manner thereof." (In Ellis, ib. p.
341-) Upon Wednesday last (being the
20th of this instant June, 1649,) Rich
ard Brandon, the late Executioner and
Hang-man, who beheaded his late
Majesty, King of Great Brittain, de
parted this life ; but during the time of
his sicknesse, his conscience was much
troubled, and exceedingly perplexed in
mind, yet little shew of repentance for
remission of his sins and by-past trans
gressions, which had so much power
and influence upon him, that he seemed
to live in them, and they in him. And
on Sunday last, a young man of his
acquaintance going in to visit him, fell
into discourse, asked him how he did,
and whether he was not troubled in
conscience for cutting off the king's
head. He replyed, yes! by reason
that (upon the time of his tryall, and
at the denouncing of Sentence against
him) he had taken a vow and protesta

tion, wishing God to perish him body
and soul, if ever he appeared on the
Scaffold to do the act or lift up his
hand against him.
He likewise confessed that he had
thirty pounds for his pains, all paid
him in half-crowns within an hour
after the blow was given ; and that he
had an Orange stuck full of cloves, and
a handkircher out of the king's pocket,
so soon as he was carryed off from the
Scaffold, for which Orange he was
proffer' d twenty shillings by a gentle
man in White-hall, but refused the
same ; and afterwards sold it for ten
shillings in Rosemary Lane.
About six of the clock at night, he
returned home to his wife living in
Rosemary lane, and gave her the
money, saying, that it was the deer-
est money that ever he earned in his
life, for it would cost him his life.
Which prophetical words were soon
made manifest, for1 it appeared, that
ever since he hath been in a most sad
condition, and upon the Almighties
first scourging of him with the rod of
sicknesse, and the friendly admonition
of divers friends for the calling of him
to repentance, yet he persisted on in
his vicious vices, and would not heark
en thereunto, but lay raging and swear
ing, and still pointing |y at one thing
or another, which he conceived to ap
pear visible before him.
About three days before he dy'd he
lay speechlesse, uttering many a sigh
and heavy groan, and so in a most des
perate manner departed from his bed of
sorrow. For the buriall whereof great
store of wines were sent in by the
Sheriff of the City of London, and a
great multitude of people stood wayting
to see his corpes carryed to the church
yard, some crying out, "Hang him
Rogue," " Bury him in the Dunghill ; "
others pressing upon him, saying, they
would quarter him for executing of

92

The Protectorate

the king : insomuch, that the church
wardens and Masters of the Parish were
fain to come for the suppressing of
them, and (with great difficulty) he
was at last carryed to White Chappell
Church-yard, having (as it is said) a
bunch of Rosemary at each end of the
coffin on the top thereof, with a rope
tyed across from on end to the other.
And a merry conceited Cock living
at the sign of the Crown, having a
black Fan (worth the value of thirty
shillings) took a resolution to rent the
same in pieces, and to every feather
tied a piece of pack-thread dy'd in
black ink, and gave them to divers per
sons, who (in derision) for a while,
wore them in their hats.

Thus I have given thee an exact ac
count and perfect Relation of the Life
and Death of Richard Brandon, to the
end that the World may be convinc'd of
those calumnious speeches and erro
neous suggestions which are dayly spit
from the mouth of Envy against divers
persons of great worth and eminency,
by casting an odium upon them for the
executing of the king; it being now
made manifest, that the aforesaid exe
cutioner was the only man who gave
the fatall blow, and his man that
way ted upon him, was a ragman (of
the name of Ralph Jones) living in
Rosemary Lane.

GROUP XII.
CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS OF OLIVER CROMWELL.

i. Extract from Sir Ph. Warwick's
Memoirs. (Edition of 1702, p. 247.)
I have no mind to give an ill char
acter of Cromwell ; for in his conversa
tion towards me he was ever friendly ;
tho' at the latter end of the day finding
me ever incorrigible, and having some
inducements to suspect me a tamperer,
he was sufficiently rigid. The first
time that ever I took notice of him was
in the very beginning of the Parliament
held in November 1640, when I vainly
thought myselfe a courtly young Gentle
man : (for we Courtiers valued our
selves much upon our good cloaths).
I came one morning into the House
well clad, and perceived a Gentleman
speaking (whom I knew not) very
ordinarily apparelled: for it was a
plain cloth-sute, which seemed to have
bin made by an ill country-taylor ; his
linen was plain and not very clean ;
and I remember a speck or two of
hlood on his little band, which was not

much larger than his collar ; his hatt
was without a hatt-band, his stature
was of a good size, his sword stuck
close to his side, his countenance swoln
and reddish, his voice sharp and un-
tunable, and his eloquence full of fer
vor ; for the subject matter would not
bear much of reason ; it being in
behalf of a servant of Mr. Prynn's,
who had disperst libel Is against the
Queen for her dancing and such like
innocent and courtly sports ; and he
aggravated the imprisonment of this
man by the Council-Table unto that
height, that one would have believed
the very Government it selfe had been
in great danger by it. I sincerely pro-
fesse it lessened much my reverence
unto that great councill ; for he was
very much hearkened unto. And yet
I liv'd to see this very gentlemen, whom
out of no ill-will to him I thus describe,
by multiplied good successes and by
real (but usurpt) power : (having had

'-LIVAR1VS TENEN-S

ROMVELL r.XEKClTVVM ANCI.Lf.
T CUBf.RNA'lOR HlBERNX/E Oxo
..•tinnus hie armii Caput aiJmiratijle Alnncio.'
QlLOd I&gQS,Pj3t>iiU;RitTOaTi&Cql llnpfnt .
E -'inlaw Hu Frxtrr/Pajnilis Jfaa}- Hofiiij, mnftai.i
B.-irnaf-iV-ni.v-pra RrWiepctne, doiiiai ,.

EIPVBUC-E lA'X LjEXERALLS Locvm
N1E.NSIS AcADEMI.-K CaNCZXLARTVS
Niilliiu lllctimi-t <juam Sumtai Nuniims anna* '
Noil tim<;t,af Fat-cm Cuiiilx't t'nfe parat .
Itus Atfett? Sa.-i., l.cu Ii, m-rgntTlaminc Victor,

Oiu..

c

fui'-fTf- MtVY-frA

&«

:m>v!i>n

The Protectorate

93

a better taylor, and more converse
among good company) in mine owne
eye, when for six weeks together I was
a prisoner in his Serjeant's hands, and
dayly waited at Whitehall, appeare of
a great and majestick deportment and
comely presence. Of him therefore
I will say no more, but that verily I
believe he was extraordinarily designed
for those extraordinary things, which
one while most wickedly and facinor-
ously he acted, and at another as suc
cessfully and greatly performed.

2. Extracts from Ludlow Memoirs,
(Oxford, 1894). 1648. May 21.
In the mean time Lieutenant-General
Cromwel not forgetting himself, pro
cured a meeting of divers leading men
amongst the Presbyterians and Inde
pendents, both members of Parliament
and ministers, at a dinner in Westmin
ster, under pretence of endeavoring a
reconciliation between the two parties.
. . . Another conference he contrived
to be held in King Street between those
called the grandees of the house and
army, and the Commonwealths-men.
. . . The Commonwealths-men de
clared that monarchy was neithei good
in itsself, nor for us. . . . Notwithstand
ing what was said, Lieutenant-General
Cromwell, not for want of conviction,
but in hopes to make a better bargain
with another party, professed himself
unresolved, and having learned what he
could of the principles and inclinations
of those present at the conference, took
up a cushion and flung it at my head,
and then ran down the stairs ; but I
overtook him with another, which
made him hasten down faster than he
desired. . . .
Lieutenant-General Cromwell, who
had made it his usual practice to grat
ify enemies even with the oppression

of those who were by principle his
friends, began again to court the Com
monwealth party, inviting some of
them to confer with him at his cham
ber : with which acquainting me the
next time he came to the House of
Commons, I took the freedom to tell
him, that he knew how to cajole and
give them good words when he had oc
casion to make use of them ; whereat
breaking out into a rage, he said they
were a proud sort of people and only
considerable in their own conceits. I
told him it was no new thing to hear
truth calumniated, and that tho the
Commonwealths-men were fallen under
his displeasure, I would take the liberty
to say that they had always been and
ever would be considerable where there
was not a total defection from honesty,
generosity, and all true vertue, which I
hoped was not yet our case. 1651.
. . . General Cromwel had long
been suspected by wise and good men ;
but he had taken such care to form and
mould the army to his humor and in
terests, that he had filled all places
either with his own creatures, or with
such as hoped to share with him in the
sovereignty, and removed those who-
foreseeing his design, had either the
courage or honesty to oppose him in it.
His pernicious intentions did not dis
cover themselves openly until after the;
battel at Worcester, which in one of his
letters to the Parliament he called the
Crowning Victory. At the same time
when he dismissed the militia, who had
most readily offered themselves to serve
the Commonwealth against the Scots,
he did it with anger and contempt,
which was all the acknowledgment
they could obtain from him for their
service and affection to the publick
cause. In a word, so much was he:
elevated with that success, that Mr.
Hugh Peters, as he since told me, took

94

The Protectorate

so much notice of it, as to say in confi
dence to a friend upon the road in his
return from Worcester, that Cromwel
would make himself king. He now
began to despise divers members of the
House whom he had formerly courted,
and grew most familiar with those
whom he used to show most aversion
to. l653- APril 2°-
The Parliament now perceiving to
what kind of excesses the madness of
the army was like to carry them, re
solved to leave as a legacy to the people
the Government of a Commonwealth
by their representatives, when assem
bled in Parliament, and in the intervals
thereof by a Council of State, chosen
by them, and to continue till the meet
ing of the next succeeding Parliament,
to whom they were to give an account
of their conduct and management. To
this end they resolved, without any
further delay, to pass the Act for their
own dissolution ; of which Cromwel
having notice, makes haste to the
House, where he sat down and heard
the debate for some time. Then call
ing to Major-General Harrison, who
was on the other side of the House, to
come to him, he told him, that he
judged the Parliament ripe for a dis
solution, and this to be the time of
doing it.
The Major-General answered, as he
since told me : ' Sir, the work is very
great and dangerous, therefore I de
sire you seriously to consider of it be
fore you engage in it.' ' You say well,'
replied the General, and thereupon sat
still for about a quarter of an hour ;
and then the question for passing the
Bill being to be put, he said again to
Major-General Harrison, ' This is the
time I must do it ; ' and suddenly stand
ing up, made a speech, wherein he
loaded the Parliament with the vilest
reproaches, charging them not to have

a heart to do anything for the publick
good, to have espoused the corrupt in
terest of Presbytery and the lawyers,
who were the supporters of tyranny
and oppression, accusing them of an
intention to perpetuate themselves in
power, had they not been forced to the
passing of this Act, which he affirmed
they designed never to observe, and
thereupon told them, that the Lord had
done with them, and had chosen othei
instruments for the carrying on his
work that were more worthy. This he
spoke with so much passion and dis
composure of mind as if he had been
distracted. Sir Peter Wentworth stood
up to answer him, and said, that this
was the first time that ever he had heard
such unbecoming language given to the
Parliament, and that it was the more
horrid in that it came from their ser
vant, and their servant whom they had
so highly trusted and obliged : but as
he was going on the General stept into
the midst of the house, where, con
tinuing his distracted language, he said,
' Come, come, I will put an end to
your prating ; ' then walking up and
down the House like a madman, and
kicking the ground with his feet, he
cried out, ' You are no Parliament, I
say you are no Parliament ; I will put
an end to your sitting ; call them in,
call them in : ' whereupon the sergeant
attending the Parliament opened the
doors, and Lieutenant-Colonel Worsley
with two files of musqueteers entred
the House ; which Sir Henry Vane
observing from his place, said aloud,
' This is not honest, yea it is against
morality and common honesty,' Then
Cromwel fell a railing at him, crying
out with a loud voice, ' O Sir Henry
Vane, Sir Henry Vane, the Lord de
liver me from Sir Henry Vane.' Then
looking upon one of the members he
said, ' There sits a drunkard ; ' and
giving much reviling language to others,

The Protectorate

95

he commanded the mace to be taken
away, saying, ' What shall we do with
this bauble? here, take it away.' Hav
ing brought all into this disorder
Major-General Harrison went to the
Speaker as he sat in the chair, and told
him, that seeing things were reduced
to this pass, it would not be convenient
for him to remain there. The Speaker
answered that he would not come down
unless he were forced. ' Sir,' said
Harrison, ' I will lend you my hand ; '
and thereupon putting his hand within
his, the Speaker came down. Then
Cromwel applied himself to the mem
bers of the House, who were in number
between eighty and a hundred, and
said to them, ' It's you that have forced
me to this, for I have sought the Lord
night and day, that he would rather
slay me than put me upon the doing of
thiswork.' . . . Cromwel having acted
this treacherous and impious part, or
dered the guard to see the House cleared
of all the members, and then seized
upon the records that were there, and
at Mr. Scobell's house. After which
he went to the clerk, and snatching the
act of Dissolution, which was ready to
pass, out of his hand, he put it under
his cloak, and having commanded the
doors to be locked up, went away to
Whitehall. 1653-
. . After a few days a coun
cil of field-officers was summoned,
where Major-General Lambert having
rehearsed the several steps and degrees
by which things had been brought to
the present state wherein they were,
and pressed the necessity incumbent
upon the army to provide something in
the room of what was lately taken
away, presented to them a paper in
tituled, 'An Instrument of Govern
ment,' which he read in his place.
Some of the officers being convinced
that the contents of this Instrument

tended to the sacrificing all our labours
to the lust and ambition of a single
person, began to declare their unwil
lingness to concur in it. . . . This In
strument appointed the legislative power
to be in the Representatives of the peo
ple and the Protector ; that a Parlia
ment should be chosen every three
years, which should sit five months, if
they thought fit, without any interrup
tion : that their first meeting should be
on the thirteenth of September next
ensuing : that the members of whom
the Parliament was to consist, should
be chosen by the people : that whatso
ever they would have enacted, should
be presented to the Protector for his
consent. ... It provided also that all
writs should issue out in the Protector's
name : that most of the magistrates
should be appointed, and all honours
conferred by him : that he should have
the power of the militia by sea and
land : that in the intervals of Parlia
ment the nation should be governed by
the Protector and his council. . . .
Things being thus prepared, the
Mayor and Aldermen of London were
required to attend at Whitehall in their
scarlet gowns. . . . After the General
had heard the Instrument of Govern
ment read, and taken the oath as
directed in the close of the said Instru
ment, Major-General Lambert kneeling
presented him with a sword in the
scabbard, representing the civil sword ;
which Cromwel accepting, put off his
own, intimating thereby that he would
no longer rule by the military sword,
tho' like a false hypocrite he designed
nothing more.

3. Speech of Cromwell on opening
the Parliament of 1654. (In White
locke Memorials. Vol. IV. p. 133.)
After the sermon . . . his highness
[Cromwell] went in the same equipage
to the painted chamber, where he was

96

The Protectorate

seated in a chair of state set upon steps,
and the members upon benches round
about sat all bare ; all being silent, his
highness put off his hat, and made a
large and subtle speech to them :
He told them the danger of the level
ling principles, and of the fifth-mon
archy opinions, and of the form of
godliness, and the great judgment that
hath been upon this nation of ten years'
civil war. . . .
The common enemy in the mean
time sleeps not, swarms of Jesuits
come over, and have their consistories
abroad to rule all the affairs of Eng
land and the dependancies thereof. . . .
In such an heap of confusion was
this poor nation ; and that it might not
sink into a confusion from these prem
ises a remedy must be applied. A
remedy hath been applied, this gov
ernment. A thing that ... is calcu
lated for the interest of the people, for
their interest alone, and for their good,
without respect had to any other inter
est. . . .
It hath put a stop to that' heady way,
for every man that will to make him
self a preacher, having endeavored to
settle a way for approbation of men of
piety and fitness for the work. . . .
It hath taken care to expunge men
unfit for that work, who have been the
common scorn and reproach to that
administration. . . .
One thing more : it hath been in
strumental to call a free parliament ;
blessed be God, we see here this day a
free parliament ; and that it may con
tinue so, I hope, is in the heart of
every good man of England : for my
own part, as I desired it above my life,
so to keep it free I shall value it above
my life. . . .
These things [treaties, etc. ] which I
have before mentioned, are but en
trances and doors of hope ; you are
brought to the edge of Canaan, (into

which many that have gone before
could not enter,) but if the blessing
and presence of God go along with you
in management of your affairs ; I make
no question but he will enable. you to
lay the topstone of this work. . . .
The great end of calling this parlia
ment is, that the work of God may go
on, that the ship of this commonwealth
may be brought into a safe har
bour. . . .
I shall conclude with my persuasion
to you, to have a sweet, gracious, and
holy understanding one of another, and
put you in mind of the counsel you
heard this day in order thereunto. And
I desire you to believe that I speak not
to you as one that would be a lord
over you, but as one that is resolved to
be a fellow-servant with you to the
interest of this great affair.

2. Proceedings of the Parliament of
1654. (From Journal of Guibon God
dard. Printed with Burton's Diary.
London, 1828.) Tuesday, Sept. 5, 1654.
The House met, and first called over
all their members, and then the de
faulters, of which there were not above
three score, of such as were re
turned. . . .
. . . Occasion was taken by some
members to tell us that, until that time
they had not so much as heard the
name of my Lord Protector within
those walls, and intimating, as if there
had been some reflections upon the
Government. . . . They therefore,
(from Court especially, and from the
soldiery and lawyers,) pressed hard,
that the Government, or Instrument of
Government, might be speedily taken
into consideration, and some return
made to my Lord Protector, of thank
fulness for his late speech.

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97

Sept. 6. The House being met, and
the order for taking the Government in
to consideration being first read, it was
moved by some, that there was some
thing that lay in the way which might
hinder the freedom of that debate,
namely, an Ordinance, so called, made
by the Lord Protector and his council,
whereby it was made High Treason for
any man to speak against the present
Government. Which occasioned many discourses
concerning the freedom of speech in
Parliament, it being alleged, that that
was the first-born privilege of a parlia
ment, and the very heart-strings of it.
In fine it was so allowed on all sides,
and that no law or power from without
could impeach any member, for any
syllable spoken within those walls. . . .
Sept. 7.
The debate of the main question was
taken up [whether the Government by
a single person and a Parliament
should be approved] ....
Much debate was about the word
"approving" in the question, as if it
were not Parliamentary, nor for the
honour of the House, to approve of
anything which takes not its foundation
and rise from themselves. . . . Instead
of " a single person and a Parliament,"
they would have "the Parliament"
preferred, and the words stand, "that
the Government should be in the Par
liament of the people of England etc.
and a single person, qualified with such
instructions as the Parliament should
think fit." Which last words were
exceedingly pressed to be added ; and
plainly the generality of voices and sense
of the House seemed to incline that
way. Sept. 9.
It now began to be visible, that the
interest of the single person did plainly
lose ground ; for not only the word

"approved" was disrelished on all
hands, but they began to break the
question, and to distinguish the word
"Government" into the legislative
power and the executive power. The
first was generally thought, with all the
reason in the world, to be the right of
the Parliament alone, without commu
nicating the least part of it to any single
person in the world. . . .
Sunday, Sept. 10.
The parsons generally prayed for the
Parliament to strengthen their hands
and enlarge their hearts ; to send them
that had wisdom, zeal; and them
that had zeal, wisdom ; but not much
concerning the single person, as was
observed. Sept. 1 1.
The House . . . was resolved again
into a Grand Committee to debate the
former question ; wherein the House
did proceed with a great deal of inge
nuity, modesty, and candour ; and this
cannot be denied , but [is] fit to be remem
bered to all ages. It was agreed on
all hands . . . that in the considera
tion of this question, two things were
to be considered of, verum, et bonum.
The verum, that is the truth of it
was, that the legislative power was in
the House of Commons, in Parliament
alone, and so was acknowledged and
settled. But for the bonum of it,
whether it were now convenient or ex
pedient, per hie et nunc. That was
very advisable. The arguments on
both sides, were rationally and pruden-
tially urged. . . .
Sept. 1 2th . . . going by water to
Westminster, I was told that the Par
liament doors were locked up and
guarded with soldiers, and the barges
were to attend the Protector to the
Painted chamber. As I went, I saw
two barges at the Privy Stairs. Being
come to the Hall, I was confirmed in
what I had heard. Nevertheless, I did

98

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purpose not to take things merely upon
trust, but would receive an actual re
pulse, to confirm my faith.
Accordingly, I attempted up the Par
liament stairs, but there was a guard
of soldiers, who told me there was no
passage that way ; that the House was
locked up, and command given to give
no admittance to any. That, if I were
a member, I might go to the Painted
chamber, where the Protector would
presently be.
The mace was taken away by Com mis-
sary-general Whalley. The Speaker
and all the members were walking up
and down the Hall, the Court of Re
quests, and the Painted chamber, ex
pecting the Protector's coming; the
passages there, being likewise guarded
with soldiers.
The Protector coming about ten of
the clock, attended with his officers,
life-guard, and halberds, he took his
place upon the scaffold, where it was
before, and made a speech of about an
hour and a half long, wherein he did
not forbear to tell us, that he did expect
and hope for better fruit and effect of
our last meeting in that place than he
had yet found ; that he perceived there
was a necessity upon him to magnify,
as he called it, his office. He told- us
a large series of the providences of God
and the suffrages of the people, which
were so many witnesses, evidences, and
seals, of his calling to the government,
and which did cause him to put a greater
value upon his title so derived, than
upon the broken hereditary title of any
prince whatsoever. That having re
ceived his office from God and from
the people, he was resolved never to
part with it, until God and the people
should take it from him.
That it could not be expected, when
he told us before that we were a free
Parliament, that he meant it otherwise
free than as it should act under that

government. That those pitiful for
wardnesses and peevishnesses, which
were abroad, he valued no more than
the motes in the sun. But that the
Parliament should now dispute his
office under whose authority we were
then met, was a great astonishment to
him. That he was unwilling to break privi
leges ; but necessity had no law.
He told us, he had ordered the Par
liament doors to be locked up and
guarded, and had appointed an officer
to take subscriptions to a recognition
of his authority; which being done
might give us an entrance. Which
being said, we were dismissed about
eleven o'clock.
His party, that is, courtiers and offi
cers of the army, and some others,
presently subscribed. Before they ad
journed, which was about twelve of
the clock, there were about one hun
dred subscriptions ; which being en
tered, they sent for the Speaker, who
came, subscribed, entered, and ad
journed until two of the clock.
In the meantime, the rest of the
members consulted one another's judg
ments. I went to see what it was that
we were to subscribe unto. It was
written in a long piece of parchment
in these words, or to that effect, viz. : —
"I do hereby freely promise and
engage, that I will be true and faithful
to the Lord Protector and the Common
wealth of England, Scotland and Ire
land, and that according to the tenor
of the indentures whereby I am returned
to serve in this present Parliament, I
will not propose, or consent to alter
the government as it is settled in a sole
person and the Parliament."
Our Norfolk members did not pres
ently subscribe, saving only Mr. Frere,
who instantly subscribed it. The rest
of our members did most of us dine
together, purposely to consult what

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99

was fittest to be done in so great an
exigent, in order to the discharge of
our trust. And, truly, the subscription
was, in effect, no more than what we
were restrained unto by our indentures,
and the thing would be done without
us, and we had fairly contended for it :
we had not given the question, but it
was forced from us, and we were told
that plainly it must be so. For these
and several other considerations and
reasons, which we thought ought to
prevail with men preferring the peace
of our countries and the safety of our
people immediately concerned in this
affair, before passions and humours,
we thought fit rather to give way to
the present necessity, and to comply
with it by submitting than refusing.
Accordingly we did subscribe, all ex
cept Mr. Woodhouse, Mr. Hobart, and
Mr. Church. And although we con
demn the breach of privilege as much as
any, yet we doubt not but to acquit our
selves to God, and to our country, in so
doing, rather than to put the nation into
another combustion and confusion.
After we had subscribed, we went
into the House, and after some expres
sions of tenderness and respects to our
fellow members without, we adjourned
until Thursday morning, the next day,
Wednesday, being the Fast. . . .
Nov. ioth, 1654. . . . It was voted:
. . . That all bills agreed unto by
the Parliament shall be presented to
the said single person for his consent.
And, in case he shall not give his con
sent thereunto, within twenty days after
they shall be presented to him, or give
satisfaction to the Parliament within the
time limited, that then such bills shall
pass into, and become laws, although
he shall not give his consent thereunto.
Provided such Bills contain nothing in
them contrary to such matters wherein
the Parliament shall think fit to give a
negative to the Lord Protector.

. . . The Court-party, against whom
the vote was carried, were so much
dissatisfied, and, indeed, so impatient
that ... it was said by them, that
this vote had destroyed the Govern
ment. The very foundation upon
which we rest would receive so great a
wound by ]£, as nothing now that we
could do, subsequently, could cure it.
We had, as much as a vote could do,
unmade the Protector. So fatal, and
so mortal was this wound to the Gov
ernment, in the opinion of some, that
one, a person of honour and nobility,
did wish he could have redeemed that
wound with a pound of the best blood
in his body.
It was often and soberly pressed by
the other side, that they saw no cause
for such tragical apprehensions, that
the fears seemed panic, and the wound
they spake of, invisible. . . . Yet
nothing would satisfy the court-party,
but in great confusion and discontent,
they cried out for an adjournment, giv
ing the whole business lost, and presag
ing an ominous and sudden dissolution.
But, after some heats were over, the
more moderate of either side fell to ex
pedients. Amongst which, some were
inconsequent things, and destructive
wholly to the former vote. But, in
fine ... it was proposed,
1. To change the word "give"
[Parliament shall think fit to give a
negative, etc.] into " declare."
2. Whereas Parliament is named
alone in the proviso to declare the
negatives, it was desired that the sin
gle person might be joined with
them. . . . Saturday, Nov. 1 1 .
It was moved that the former amend
ments be added to the former vote of
yesterday. Some, to further the mo
tion, pretended that they themselves
had been, the night before, surprised
in the question and did not think it had

IOO

The Protectorate

carried such a consequence in the man
ner of it. Others talked of fears and
imminent dangers. To both which, a
member replied, something earnestly,
saying, as to the first, he conceived it
not Parliamentary, to retract a vote
upon a non putarem ; for such as sate
there were all supposed to be wise men,
et incipietitis est, dicere non putarem,
and for the other arguments, of fears
and jealousies, he conceived they were
bugbears and brain-squirts, things not
to affright such an assembly into any
change in their councils ; which gave
such offence and scandal to the court-
party, as they questioned the gentle
man for it.
Some ado there was to have had him
to the bar ; but some excused him, and
one especially, tartly enough, upon that
old ground of nemo mortalium omnibus
horis sapit, which was, a Rowland for
an Oliver. Others desired .that he
might but explain himself. To which
it was answered, that that needed not.
The gentleman that spoke before, had
done it for him.
After they had made themselves a
little merry with these puns, at length
they fell into a more serious considera
tion of the point. . . .
At length the question was put for
the amendment. It was agreed unto,
nemime contradicente, so as the proviso
then amended ran thus : —
Provided that such Bills contain
nothing in them contrary to such mat
ters wherein the said single person and
the Parliament shall think fit to declare
a negative to be in the said single per
son.

4. Extracts from Ludlow. l655-
. . . (Cromwell) next asked me,
wherefore I would not engage not to
act against the present Government,
telling me, that if Nero were in power,

it would be my duty to submit. To
which I replied, that I was ready to
submit, and could truly say, that I
knew not of any design against him.
' But,' said I, ' if Providence open a
way, and give an opportunity of ap
pearing in behalf of the people, I can
not consent to tie my own hands before
hand, and oblige myself not to lay hold
on it.' ' However,' said he, ' it is not
reasonable to suffer one that I distrust
to come within my house, till he assure
me he will do no mischief.' I told
him I was not accustomed to go to any
house unless I expected to be welcome ;
neither had I come hither but upon a
message from him, and that I desired
nothing but a little liberty to breathe in
the air, to which I conceived I had
an equal right with other men. He
then fell to inveigh bitterly against
Major Wildman, as the author of
the petition from the army before-
mentioned, reviling him with unhand-
som words, and saying he deserved to
be hanged ; and that he must secure
me also, if I would not oblige myself
never to act against him. I told him I
had gone as far as I could in that en
gagement which I had given to Lieu
tenant-General Fleetwood ; and if that
were not thought sufficient, I resolved
with God's assistance to suffer any ex
tremities that might be imposed upon
me. ' Yes,' said he, ' we know your
resolution well enough, and we have
cause to be as stout as you ; but I pray
who spoke of your suffering?' ' Sir,'
said T, ' if I am not deceived, you men
tioned the securing of my person.'
' Yea,' said he, ' and great reason there
is why we should do so ; for I am
ashamed to see that engagement which
you have given to the Lieutenant-
General, which would be more fit for
a General who should be taken pris
oner, and that hath yet an army of
thirty thousand men in the field, than

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IOI

for one in your condition.' I answered
that it was as much as I could consent
to give. . . . 1656.
. . . About the same time Mr.
Peters, who still kept fair with those
at Whitehall, made me a visit ; and
in our conversation about the public
affairs I freely told him my opinion
concerning the actions of Cromwel,
endeavoring to make him sensible not
only of his injustice, but great impru
dence, thus to sacrifice the common
cause to his ambition, and by every
step he had lately taken to strengthen
the common enemy, whereby he would
undoubtedly open a way for the return
of the family of the late king, who
would not fail to do all that revenge
could inspire them with : whereas if he
had made use of his power to establish
the just liberties of the nation, or could
yet be persuaded so to do, he might
live more honoured and esteemed, have
the pleasure and satisfaction arising
from so generous an action when he
died, and leave his own family, together
with the whole body of the people, in
a most happy and flourishing condition.
He confessed that what I had said was
most true, but added, that there was
not a man about him who had courage
enough to tell him so : that for his part
he had observed him immediately after
the victory at Worcester to be so ele
vated, that he then began to fear what
has since come to pass ; and that he
told a friend with whom he then quar
tered in his return to London, that he
was inclined to believe Cromwel would
endeavor to make himself king.

5. Extracts from Evelyn's Diary.
April 9, 1655.
I went to see ye greate ship newly
built by the usurper Oliver, carrying
96 brasse guns, and 1000 tons burthen.

In ye prow was Oliver on horseback,
trampling 6 nations under foote, a
Scott, Irishman, Dutchman, French
man, Spaniard, and English, as was
easily made out by their several habits.
A Fame held a laurel over his insulting
head ; ye word, God with us.
March 25th, 1657.
. . . The Protector Oliver, now af-
ecting kingship, is petition' d to take
the title on him by all his new-made
sycophant lords, etc. but dares not for
feare of the phanatics, not thoroughly
purg'd out of his rebell arm}'.
Dec. 25th, 1657.
... I went to London with my
wife, to celebrate Christmas-day, Mr.
Gunning preaching. . . . As he was
giving us ye holy sacrament, the chap-
ell was surrounded with souldiers, and
all the communicants and assembly
surpriz'd and kept prisoners by them.
... In the afternoone" came Col.
Whaley, Goffe, and others from White
hall, to examine us one by one ; some
they committed to ye Marshall, some
to prison. When I came before them
they tooke my namei and abode, exam-
in'd me why, contrary to an ordinance
made that none should any longer ob
serve ye superstitious time of the Na
tivity (so esteem' d by them), I durst
offend, and particularly be at Common
Prayers, which they told me was but
ye masse in English, and particularly
pray for Charles Steuart, for which we
had no Scripture. I told them we did
not pray for Cha. Steuart, but for all
Christian Kings, Princes, and Gov
ernors. They replied, in so doing we
praied for the K. of Spaine too, who
was their enemie and a papist, with
other frivolous and insnaring questions
and much threatning ; and finding no
colour to detaine me, they dismissed
me with much pitty of my ignorance.

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These were men of high flight and
above ordinances, and spake spiteful
things of our Lord's Nativity. As we
went up to receive the Sacrament the
miscreants held their muskets against
us as if they would have shot us at the
altar, but yet suffering us to finish the
office of Communion, as perhaps not
having instructions what to do in case
they found us in that action. So I got
home late the next day, blessed be God.

6. Extracts from Ludlow. 1658.
. . . After the death of Mrs. Cley-
pole it was observed that Cromwel
grew melancholy, and also distempered
with divers infirmities, particularly a
malignant humour in his foot ; which
hindring him from the exercises of
walking or riding abroad, he obliged
his physicians to endeavor to disperse
it, which they endeavoring to do, drove
it upwards to his heart. By this means
he became desperately sick; and as
some about him had for a long time
deceived others, so they now endeav
oured to impose upon God himself.
For Dr. Goodwin, his creature and
trencher-chaplain, used this expression
in his prayer during the time of his
sickness ; ' Lord, we beg not for his
recovery, for that Thou hast already
granted, and assured us of, but for his
speedy recovery.' At this time I was
in the county of Essex, and according
to a former resolution I had taken,
went to London to attend my father
Oldsworth, and to bring him into the
country, whither he designed to come
with my mother Ludlow. On the
Monday afternoon I set forward on
my journey, the morning proving so
tempestuous that the horses were not
able to draw against it ; so that I could
reach no farther than Epping that
night. By this means I arrived not at

Westminster till Tuesday about noon,
when passing by Whitehall, notice was
immediately given to Cromwel, that I
was come to town. Whereupon he
sent for Lieutenant-General Fleetwood,
and ordered him to enquire concerning
the reasons of my coming in such
haste, and at such a time. The Lieu
tenant-General accordingly desired by
a message that I would come to him
the next morning, which I did, and
understood from him that Cromwel
suspected I was come with a design to
raise some disturbance in the army, and
that he was desirous to know the occa
sion of my journey. I assured him
that as it was not in my power to
cause any commotion in the army, so
neither was it in my thoughts at this
time ; and that I came to town in order
to bring our family together into the
country, according to a resolution taken
a month since, and before I heard of
Cromwel' s indisposition. He then told
me, that the Protector had been ill, but
that it was now hoped he was recover
ing. I said, that I wished him so well,
that I was not desirous he should die
in the way he was in at present, and
assured him, that I should be glad of
the prolongation of his life, if he would
employ it to the publick good, which
ought to be more dear to us than life
itself. At Whitehall they were unwilling to
have it known that he was so danger
ously ill . . . certain it is that the
Commissioners were not admitted till
the Friday following, when the symp
toms of death were apparent upon him,
and many ministers and others assem
bled in a chamber at Whitehall, pray
ing for him, whilst he manifested so
little remorse of conscience for his
betraying the publick cause, and sacri
ficing it to the idol of his own ambi
tion, that some of his last words were
rather becoming a mediator than a

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103

sinner, recommending to God the con
dition of the nation that he had so
infamously cheated, and expressing a
great care of the people whom he had
so manifestly despised. But he seemed
above all concerned for the reproaches
he said men would cast upon his name,
in trampling on his ashes when dead.
In this temper of mind he departed'1
this life about two in the afternoon ;
and the news of his death being brought
to those who were met together to pray
for him, Mr. Sterry stood up and
desired them not to be troubled. For,
said he, ' this is good news ; because if
he was of great use to the people of
God when he was amongst us, now he
will be much more so, being ascended
to Heaven to sit at the right hand of
Jesus Christ, there to intercede for us
and to be mindful of us on all occa
sions.' . . . One of the first acts of the
new government was, to order the fu
neral of the late usurper ; and the
Council having resolved that it should
be very magnificent, the care of it was
referred to a committee of them, who
sending for Mr. Kinnersly master of
the wardrobe, desired him to find out
some precedent by which they might
govern themselves in this important
affair. After examination of his books
and papers, Mr. Kinnersly, who was
suspected to be inclined to popery,
recommended to them the solemnities
used upon the like occasion for Philip
the Second, King of Spain, who had

been represented to be in purgatory for
about two months. In the like manner
was the body of this great reformer
laid in Somerset-House : the apartment
was hung with black, the day-light was
excluded, and no other but that of wax
tapers to be seen. This scene of pur
gatory continued till the first of Novem
ber, which being the day preceding
that commonly called All Souls, he
was removed into the great hall of the
said house, and represented in effegie,
standing on a bed of crimson velvet
covered with a gown of the like coloured
velvet, a scepter in his hand, and a
crown on his head. That part of the
hall wherein the bed stood was railed
in, and the rails and ground within
them covered with crimson velvet.
Four or five hundred candles set in flai
shining candle- sticks were so placed
round near the roof of the hall, that
the light they gave seemed like the
rays of the sun : by all which he was
represented to be now in a state of
glory. This folly and profusion so far
provoked the people, that they threw
dirt in the night on his escucheon that
was placed over the great gate of
Somerset House. I purposely omit
the rest of the pageantry, the great
number of persons that attended on the
body, the procession to Westminster,
the vast expence in mourning, the state
and magnificence of the monument
erected for him, with many other
things that I care not to remember.

io4

The Protectorate

GROUP XIII.

SPECIMENS OF PARLIAMENTARY PROCEEDINGS UNDER THE COMMONWEALTH.

Extracts from Goddard' s and Bur
ton's Diaries. (London, 1828.)
Tuesday, Oct. 7, 1656.
Resolved, that the consideration of
the laws touching profane swearing,
and the defects therein, be referred to
the Committee for alehouses and drunk
enness. . . .
That it be referred to the . . . Com
mittee [on servants' wages], to take
into consideration the habits and fashions
of servants and labourers, and to prepare
a Bill for the remedying the abuses
therein. . . . Thursday, 9th.
Ordered, that Sir Thomas Honywood,
a member of this House, have leave to
go into the country for fourteen days,
to bring up his lady and family.
Thursday, 16th.
Ordered that it be referred to a Com
mittee, to revise the statutes touching
wandering, idle, loose and dissolute
persons, beggars, rogues and vagabonds.
That it be referred to the same Com
mittee, to consider of, and provide. a
Bill, for redress of the evils by such
persons as live at very high rates, and
have no visible estate, profession, or
calling suitable thereunto. . . .
Monday, 20th.
. . . Colonel Jephson acquainted the
House with a book delivered at the door,
in print, entituled "Thunder from the
Throne of God, against the Temples of
Idols," with an epistle in it directed to
his Highness, the Lord Protector, and
the Parliament of England ; which
epistle was now read.

Resolved, that Samuel Chidley be
called in, to the bar. And he was,
accordingly, called in. And being come
to the bar, the book was showed him,
who acknowledged he wrote the epistle ;
and doth own it, and all that is in it ;
and owns the book too, and all in it, the
printer's errors excepted.
Ordered, that this book, entituled
"Thunder from the Throne Of God,
against the Temples of Idols," and the
epistle of it, be referred to a committee,
viz. : to Lord Commissioner Whitlock,
etc. . . .
Resolved, that Samuel Chidley be
committed to the custody of the Serjeant-
at-Arms attending this House.
Friday, Nov. 21.
Resolved, that no member of the
House do remain in the Committee
Chambers, during the time of prayers.
Nov. 27.
The Serjeant brings word, that Ser
jeant Dendy was at the door with a
message from his Highness. And,
thereupon he was called in. And, hav
ing made two obeisances to the House,
when he came into the middle of the
House, with his mace in his hand, he
declared to Mr. Speaker, that he was
commanded by his Highness the Lord
Protector, to let this House know that
his Highness is in the Painted Chamber,
and desires to speak with this honour
able House. And thereupon with
drew. Which being done, Mr. Speaker,
attended with the whole House, the
Clerk with the Bills in his hand, and
the Serjeant with his mace . . . went
up to the Painted Chamber ; where his

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105

Highness, attended with the Lord Presi
dent and the rest of the Council [etc.,
etc.] were expecting. . . .
The Speaker addressed himself to his
Highness, and gave an account of the
employment of the House during their
sitting ; and that many Bills for the
public good were upon the anvil. . . .
After which the Clerk read the title
of the first Bill. . . . Which Bill his
Highness caused to be read ; and upon
reading thereof, declared to the Clerk
his consent to the same, in these words,
"We do consent." And, thereupon,
the Clerk made an entry thereof on the
Bill, in these words, "The Lord Pro
tector doth consent." . . .
The titles of the rest of the public
Bills, first, and then the private Bills,
were read. And to each of them his
Highness' s consent thereunto declared,
entered, and published as before.
. . . His Highness having made a
short speech, the Speaker, with the rest
of the members, departed in the like
order as they came thither, to the Parlia
ment House. . . . Dec. 5th.
. . . Mr. Fowell reported the bill
from the committee, with amendments,
touching rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy
beggars. . . .
Second Amendment, "Being wander
ing ten miles from his habitation."
Second Amendment excepted against
for too great a distance. . . .
Major Audley. If you leave it in
the power of justices to judge who shall
be wanderers, for ought I know I my
self may be whipped, if I be found but
ten miles from my own house, unless
the justice of the peace will allow my
excuse. . . .
Sir Richard Onslow and Mr. High
land. If you make new wanderers an<J
vagabonds, other than ever our ancestors
knew of, let us know what they are. . . .
By these terminis generalibus, any man

may be adjudged by the justice to be a
vagrant. Colonel Edwards. They have chain
enough, keep them within their com
pass. If they know they have ten miles
to rove in, by this means you give them
forty miles circumference.
Resolved, Not to agree with the com
mittee in ten miles distance. . . .
Dr. Clarges. Give liberty for five
miles, that you may suppress the
Quakers, who greatly increase, and
pester and endanger the Common
wealth. Major Audley. Ascertain what this
individuum vagum is, lest it be quidam
homo, any man. I would have the
persons ascertained. If they be Quak
ers, I could freely give my consent that
they should be whipped. . . .
Sir Thomas Wroth. Harpers should
be included.
Mr.  . Pipers should be com
prehended. Alderman Foote. I hope you in
tend not to include the waits of the
City of London, which are a great
preservation of men's houses in the
night. Sir William Strickland. The gen
eral word minstrel will be best ; for if
you go to enumerate, they will devise
new instruments.
Mr. Butler. Music is a lawful
science, and I love it ; but in regard
you restrain it to those places, I think
the general word will serve well
enough. Mr. Highland. Add singing as well
as playing. Colonel Whetham. I hope you will
not deprive men of their voices.
Mr. Speaker. Singing is a natural,
playing an artificial music. . . .
Resolved, To agree with the Com
mittee in all the amendments. . . .
Mr. Bampfield offered a report from
James Nayler's Committee. . . .

io6

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A Short history of Nayler' s Life.
... 4. After he (Nayler) had been
up and down, he went to visit the
Quakers in Cornwall, where he was
committed as a wanderer. . . .
The articles against him read, and
summed thus — That he assumed the
gesture, words, names, and attributes
of our Saviour Christ.
Major-General Skippon. I do not
marvel at this silence. Every man is
astonished to hear this report. I am
glad it is come hither. I hope it will
mind you to look about you now. It
is now come to your doors, to know
how you that bear witness of Christ,
do relish such things. God's dis
pleasure will be upon you if you do
not lay out your especial endeavours
in the things of God ; not to postpone
them. You are cumbered about many
things, but I may truly say this, unum
necessarium. It has been always my opinion, that
the growth of these things is more dan
gerous than the most intestine or foreign
enemies. I have often been troubled
in my thoughts to think of this tolera
tion [of the Quakers] ; I think I may
call it so. Their great growth and
increase is too notorious, both in Eng
land and Ireland ; their principles strike
both at ministry and magistracy. . . .
I am as tender as any man, to lay
impositions upon men's consciences,
but in these horrid things. I have
been always against laws for matters
ex post-facto ; but in this I am free to
look back, for it is a special emergency.
This offence «is so high a blasphemy,
that it ought not to be passed. For
my part, I am of opinion that it is
horrid blasphemy. . . .
Major- General Boteler. . . . We
all sit here, I hope, for the glory of
God. My ears did tingle, and my
heart tremble, to hear the report. I
am satisfied that there is too much of

the report true. I have heard many
of the blasphemies of this sort of people,
but the like of this I never heard of.
The punishment ought to be adequate
to the offence. By the Mosaic law,
blasphemers were to be stoned to
death. . . . For my part, if this sen
tence should pass upon him, I could
freely consent to it. . . .
They [the Quakers] are generally
despisers of your Government, con
temn your magistracy and ministry,
and trample it under their feet.
The magistrate is to be a terror unto-
evil works. If we punish murder and
witchcraft, and let greater offenses go,
as heresies and blasphemy, which is
under the same enumeration ; for my
part, I could never reconcile myself
nor others to leave out the latter and
punish the former offences. . . .
Mr. Downing. . . . You know
what the Parliament did with a Straf
ford in civil cases, and what the Par
liament has done against corrupt judges.
If ever there was a business for a Par
liament, this is it. To supplant your
God, oh, horrid ! . . .
Colonel White. There is something
omitted in the Report which Nayler
said, and that to me seemed as blas
phemous as anything: that "the old
bottles were broken, and new wine
poured in;" intimating that he is the
new Christ, and the old one laid aside.
... If you make the sentence death,
I think he very well deserves it. I
shall give my Yea. . . .
Lord Stickland [after five others
had spoken]. This seems not reason
able, that a man should first be con
demned, and then heard. I would
have him called to the bar, to hear
what he will say to the Report.
• Mr. Speaker [after four others].
If you call him to the bar, and he deny
it, then you must go over all the charge
and the evidence. . . .

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107

Mr. Bampfield. ... If either you
refer it back again to the Committee,
or call the party to the bar, you must
travel into all the evidence, and so
render the whole matter fruitless. He
has been three times before us, and the
Committee was every time more sat
isfied of the horridness of the blas
phemy. . . .
Lord- Chief -J u s t i c e . . . . That
which sticks with me is, whether there
is a witness against him at all ; not one
against him upon oath. . . .
Major- General Packer. The Re
port is a sufficient charge against him.
[After 18 other speeches the debate
was adjourned to the next day. Lord
Lambert had said about Nayler " He
was two years my quartermaster, and
a very useful person. We parted with
him with great regret. He was a man
of a very unblameable life and conver
sation, a member of a very sweet society
of an independent church. How he
comes (by pride or otherwise) to be
puffed up to this opinion I cannot
determine. ... I shall be as ready to
give my testimony against him as any
body, if it appear to be blasphemy."] Dec. 6th.
Mr. Bampfield. The calling him
to the bar is but a mean to delay the
business. . . . He confessed that the
woman [who was said to have wor
shipped him] said these words and
expressions, which Mr. Piggott, by
Providence, came to the Committee
and informed ; " Rise up, my love, my
dove, my fairest one, why stayest thou
amongst the pots ; " only he denied the
woman's kissing his hand.
Mr. Croke. ... By all rules of
law and justice, you ought first to call
him to the bar; haply he may deny
matter of fact, haply matter of law.
He may say it is not blasphemy. . . .

Sir Gilbert Pickering. I move
that it may be respited till Monday.
It is now twelve, and it will take your
time so long that you will be forced to
sit as long as you did yesterday, which
will not agree with many men's healths
that are here. . . .
Resolved, That Nayler be forthwith
called to the bar and have the charge
read to him, whereunto he is to. give
his answer Yea or No. . . .
James Nayler being brought to the
bar, refused to kneel or to put off his
hat. The House agreed beforehand
that they would not insist upon his
kneeling . . . but commanded the Ser
jeant to take off his hat.
[After the hearing.]
Sir William Strickland. Nothing
has been reported from the Committee,
but is, to a grain, agreed by the party's
own confession at the bar. . . . You
have now hell groaning under expecta
tion of this issue, what you will do in
this business. . . .
Mr. Downing. You are judge and
jury. You have heard the prisoner at
the bar, and will you leave the business
in the midst, after issue joined ? . . .
Are not juries kept without meat and
drink ; yea, carried from cart to cart,
county to county, till they agree in
lesser matters.
Mr. Speaker. I remember what a
gentleman in another Parliament said
of the result of our long debates, that
it was but as the verdict of a starved
jury. It will not be so with us, for
many members have dined, though
others fast. . . . Dec. 8.
Lord Whitlock [author of the "Me
morials"]. . . . To give a judgment
in point of life, no law being in force
to that purpose, my humble opinion is,
to go by way of bill. . . . The Grand

io8

The Protectorate

Committee, if you please, may appoint
the punishment. . . . The like case
was the Bishop of Rochester's cook,
who, by Act of Parliament, had new
punishment appointed him (i. e.) to
be boiled in a hot lead. . . .
Major Beake. I conceive you ought
first to determine the offence, what it
is, and then prepare a proportionable
punishment. , . . I conceive the judg
ment of Parliament is so sovereign,
that it may declare that to be an offence
which never was an offence before.
The Roman senate did the like in cases
of parricide. . . .
Captain Baynes. . . . You saw
how he behaved himself at the bar.
Not a cap to you, though ye be gods in
one sense ; yet he will t.ike cap, knee,
kisses, and all reverence. His distinc
tion of visible and invisible makes his
blasphemy plain. . . . God could have
made him a pillar of salt immediately,
if he had pleased; have struck him
dead, but he has left it to you to vindi
cate his honour and glory. Now see
what you will do. This is the day of
temptation and trial of your zeal. . . .
Lord President. This gentleman
has spoken very zealously, yet they
were honest men, too, that called for
fire from Heaven, and we know how
they were reproved. I have lived some
time in the world, and seen what is
abroad, and how careful wise men
have been in proceeding in this kind.
I wonder why any man should be so
amazed at this. Is not God in every
horse, in every stone, in every creature?
... If you hang every man that says,
Christ is in you the hope of glory , you
will hang a good many. . . . Read the
Report over, and let every man give his
re.isons why such a part is blasphemy.
Major General Skippon. By the
rule that this honourable person offers,
none shall meddle at all in matters of
religion. . . .

Mr. Bacon. ... It is much contro
verted here, whether a law maybe made
for a matter ex post facto. Nothing
more ordinary in a Parliament. Was it
not the case of the Bishop of Rochester* s
cook? He made broth which poisoned
all the family, and the beggars at the
gates. Here was a law made, both for
the offence and the punishment. . . .
Colonel Sydenham. . . . These
Quakers, or Familists, affirm that
Christ dwells personally in every be
liever. That which I fear is, to draw
this down into precedent, for, by the
same ground, you may proceed against
all of that sect. Again, that which
sticks most with me, is the nearness of
this opinion to that which is a most
glorious truth, that the spirit is person
ally in us. ... If some of those Par
liaments were sitting in our places," I
believe they would condemn most of
us for heretics. ... I fear this long
debate will make them without say,
one half of the House are Quakers,
the other half, anti-Quakers. . . .
Dr. Clarges [after six others]. . . .
You have here before you the greatest
matter that ever came before a Parlia
ment. ... I shall speak no more ; but
let us all stop our ears, and stone him
— for he is guilty of horrid blasphemy ;
nothing so apparent. . . .
Resolved [after 3 1 other speeches]
that this debate be adjourned till to
morrow morning.
Dec. 16. [After 11 days of heated
discussion.] Colonel White. There has been
enough said in this business. I de
sire you would put some Question or
other. . . .
The question for the lesser punish
ment being read.
Colonel White proposed that his
tongue might be bored through.
Colonel Barclay, that his hair might
be cut off.

The Protectorate

109

Major- General Haines, that his
tongue might be slit or bored through,
and that he might be stigmatized with
the letter B. . . .
Major- General Whalley. Do not
cut off his hair ; that will make the
people believe that the Parliament of
England are of opinion that our Sav
iour Christ wore his hair so, and this
will make all people in love with the
fashion. . . .
Major- General Disbrowe. I doubt
if you slit his tongue, you may endan
ger his life. It will be a death of a
secret nature.
Mr. Downing. You ought to do
something with that tongue that has
bored through God. You ought to
bore his tongue through. You punish
a swearer so, and have some whipped
through an affront to your members.
Major Audley. It is an ordinary
punishment for swearing. I have
known twenty bored through the
tongue. Resolved. That his tongue be bored
through. Resolved. That he be marked with
the letter B, in the forehead.
Major-General Whalley proposed,
that his lips might be slitted.
Alderman Foote, that his head may
be in the pillory, and that he be
whipped from Westminster to the Old
Exchange. . . .
Colonel Cromwell, that he may be
whipped through the whole City from
Westminster to Aldgate.
Major- General Gojfe, that he may
also be restrained from society of
women, as well as from men. . . .
Colonel Shapcot, that his Bridewell
may be at York, whence he came.
Mr. Speaker and Sir Wm. Strick
land. He came not thence. I shall
put it upon Bristol. . . .

Sir Gilbert Pickering. Either be
strict in this or you do nothing, for
certainly this of Quakerism is as in
fectious as the plague. And that not
only men, but women be kept from
him. I have told you, it is a woman
that has done all the mischief.
Mr. Puller proposed, that he might
be sent to Jamaica. . . .
Sir William Strickland. ... I
desire, rather, that he might be sent
to Bristol.
Mr. Highland. Those that come
out of the North, are the greatest pests
of the nation. The diggers came
thence. Mr. Robinson. I hope that gentle
man does not mean by his pests, all
that come thence. He means not us,
I hope. . . .
Resolved, that London be the place.
Resolved, that James Nayler be set
on the pillory, with his head in the
pillory, in the New Palace Westmin
ster, during the space of two hours on
Thursday next, and be whipped by
the hangman through the streets of
Westminster to the old Exchange,
London ; and there likewise, to be set
upon the pillory ... in each of the
said places, wearing a paper contain
ing an inscription of his crimes : and
that at the old Exchange, his tongue
shall be bored through with a hot iron,
and that he be there also stigmatized
. . . and that he be, afterwards, sent
to Bristol and conveyed into and
through the said city, on a horse bare
ridged, with his face back . . . and
. . . that he be committed to prison
in Bridewell, London, and kept to
hard labour till he be released by the
Parliament : and, during that time, be
debarred of the use of pen, ink, and
paper, and have no relief but what he
earns by his daily labour.

I IO

The Protectorate

Dec. 25th.
. . . Col. Matthews. The House
is thin ; much, I believe, occasioned
by observation of this day. I have a
short Bill to prevent the superstition
for the future. I desire it to be read.
Mr. Robinson. I could get no rest
all night for the preparation of this
foolish day's solemnity. . . . We are,
I doubt, returning to Popery.
Sir William Strickland. It is a
very fit time to offer the Bill, this day,
to bear your testimony against it, since
people observe it with more solemnity
than they do the Lord's day. . . .
Major - General Packer, Major
Audley, and Sir Gilbert Pickering.
. . . You see how the people keep up
these superstitious observations to your
face. . . . One may pass from the
Tower to Westminster and not a shop
open, nor a creature stirring. . . .

Dec. 26th.
Mr. Speaker. ... I must acquaint
you with a letter from the Lord Pro
tector. " Having taken notice of a sentence
by you, given against one James Nay
ler, albeit we do abhor such wicked
opinions and practices, we, being in
terested in the Government, desire to
know the grounds and reasons how
you proceeded herein without our con
sent." [Consternation in the House. —
Ed. J
. . . Major Audley. You ought
not to have denied this person [Nay
ler] to have spoken when he desired
it at the bar. Were he never so
wicked, you ought to give him the
liberty of an Englishman. I am sat
isfied, that though you have passed this
sentence upon him, there may be much
said against it. If he had been left to
the law, it had been better. . . .

Mr. Lawrence . . . questioned the
jurisdiction. He said there were but
three powers ; arbitrary, we would not
own; legislative, is upon a joint au
thority by the Instrument. If by a
judicatory power, we must have a
law ; otherwise our proceedings are
not justifiable. . . .
Mr. Rouse. . . . Either you have
done what you ought to have done in
executing part of your sentence, or
you have not. ... If you have done
what you cannot justify, you must be
whipped for whipping James Nayler.
It was but a mock punishment.
Colonel Holland. A merchant's
wife told me that there was no skin
left between his shoulders and his hips.
It was no mock punishment. I could
wish the business were ended amongst
you, that the remainder of the punish
ment might be remitted, and that would
give his Highness satisfaction.
Sir Christopher Peck. I shall ac
quaint you with what the gaoler told
me. There were but three places where
the skin was any way hurt or broken,
and it was no bigger than a pin's head,
This gentleman is surely misinformed.
Colonel Hewitson proposed, that a
Committee might be appointed to find
out a way how to give his Highness an
account in this business. If the person
was favoured in the punishment, it
was the lenity of the executioner, not
of the sentence. / was against it in my
opinion. Sir William Strickland. It is not
possible for us to stop the foul mouths
of such a wicked generation. We are
convinced of the justice of our pro
ceedings. . . .
Air. Downing. I am sorry we have
such a person in England as James Nay
ler, to give us all this trouble. Those
that think his Highness' s letter seems to
question why we passed this sentence
without his consent, are mistaken. . . .

The Protectorate

1 1 1

Sir John Reynolds. ... I think
there was nothing of the punishment
spared. . . . That is not the dispute
before us. I would have us seriously
to debate this matter, that we may give
his Highness an account of it. The
consequence is dangerous, if we should
draw these things into precedent.
Captain Baynes. I was against
bringing this business into the House
at the first. . . .
Mr. Solicitor- General. . . . The
whole question before you is, why a
judgment, without my Lord Protector ?
The letter says, why a judgment with
out us. " We desire," saith the letter,
" to know the grounds and reasons
whereupon you made such a judgment."
I desire that we might have leave to
speak against your judgment.
Mr. Godfrey. This gentleman
moves very properly to have leave to
speak against the judgment. If you
give this leave I cannot but tremble to
think of the consequence. I am sorry
this happens, for you to go about to
arraign your own judgment. ... If
you revoke this, you must not only cry
peccavi to James Nayler for what is
passed, but to his Highness also, and
also to the nation. Here is your power
asserted on one harnd ; the supreme mag
istrate, on the other hand, desiring an
account of your judgment. Where
shall there be tertius arbiter? It is
a hard case. No judge upon earth.
I shall humbly move that a Committee
might be appointed to acquaint his
Highness with the sad consequences of
such a dispute, and to desire him to
lay aside the further questioning of
this judgment.
Air. Attorney- General. We are
bound up by our own judgment. We
cannot speak against it, nor against the
fact. You have asserted your judica
tory power. This is the first case. It is
good it were now settled. I hear his

Highness plead nothing for the fel
low. I think it were best first to whip
him and then bring in a Bill to hang
him. [A witticism? — Ed.] . . .
Air. Fowell. . . . The House of
Commons have, by their judicatory,
liberty to pass greater sentences than
this. . . . There was a case in the latter
end of King James's time where one
Floyd abused the Queen of Bohemia.
. . . The House of Commons, of their
own jurisdiction, proceeded to sentence
him to ride backwards on a horse, with
a paper, etc. . . .
Mr. Robinson. This is the most
unfortunate business that ever came into
this House. I was against it, at first
. . . but I am not satisfied to give way
to speak against the judgment.
Mr. Goodwin. ... I have heard of
a Parliament called Insanum Parlia-
mentum. I wonder what his Highness
will think of us, if we should not as
sert our jurisdiction. If we should rise
without asserting our power, James
Nayler may have his action against
every individual member. Let us be
have ourselves like wise men. We
have passed a judgment, and owned the
jurisdiction. Let us not part with it.
Mr. Rouse. We should return this
short answer to his Highness' s letter,
"We had power so to do." . . .
Mr. Downing. My heart is very
full in this business. . . . We need
not dispute our jurisdiction ourselves.
There are enough to dispute it. The
Instrument of Government is but new,
and our jurisdiction is but new, too.
Mr. Highland. ... If you assert
not your own power, you will be a
matter of laughter, both to wise men
and fools. Dec. 27.
Colonel Markham. ... It is an
abominable thing to hear such unjust
things informed to this House, as that

I 12

The Protectorate

of his whipping so hard, or his being
sick. I would have the merchant's
wife that reported it sent for and
whipped. ... I desire you would be
so tender of your honour as to put that
question. Lord Lambert. Calmness better be
comes this House. I like not these
reflections. I desire the gentleman may
explain himself.
Colonel Alarkham stood up to jus
tify himself, and said he reflected upon
no member, but only upon the mer
chant's wife. . . .
Resolved, that the House be ad
journed till Tuesday. . . .

The Committee for Mr. Scot and his
wicked wife sat in the painted cham
ber. Mr. Godfrey had the chair (who
once intended to have hanged her in
the country.) Both parties appeared :
She said, "How do you do, Mr.
Scot?" He answered little : no sweet
heart, dear, nor angel. This Com
mittee adjourned till this day se'n
night. . . .
This day B. and I were to see Nay
ler' s tongue bored through, and him
marked in the forehead. He put out
his tongue very willingly, but shrinked
a little when the iron came upon his
forehead. He was pale when he came
out of the pillory, but high-coloured
after tongue-boring. He was bound
with a cord by both arms to the pil
lory. Rich, the mad merchant, sat
bare at Nayler' s feet all the time..
Sometimes he sang and cried, and
stroked his hair and face, and kissed
his hand, and sucked the fire out of his
forehead. Nayler embraced his execu
tioner, and behaved himself very hand
somely and patiently. A great crowd
of people there.
[After much more excited debating
about the judicial power of the Parlia

ment and the answer to be returned to
Cromwell, the matter is suddenly
dropped. The Protector must have
raised his wand. On Friday, Jan. 2,
specially appointed for continuing the
discussion, there is this irrelevant
notice: "Resolved, that Judge Law
rence and Colonel Talbot be added to
the Scotch Committee. Thus was the
business of the day jostled out, and
nobody said a word to it. I hear it
will never be mentioned agai?i ; if it
be, I dread the consequence. Absit."
—Ed.] . . .  Jan. 14th, 1656-7.
. . . Robinson presented Hobbe's
Leviathan to the Committee, as a most
poisonous piece of atheism. . . .

Jan. 19. . . .
Sir Gilbert Pickering and Major-
General Boteler, moved that Wednes
day afternoon may be the time ap
pointed to wait upon his Highness, the
whole House, to congratulate his deliv
erance [from one of the many attempts
to assassinate him]. . . .
Sir Gilbert Pickering. . . . There
was a very good pattern propounded to
us as to the manner of addresses to his
Highness, upon another occasion, about
three or four months ago. I confess I
liked that method well. ... It was
Major-General Goffe, upon the debate
about the thanksgiving for the late vic
tory from Spain. . It was a long im
peachment, seriously inviting the House
to a firm, and a kind of corporal union
with his Highness. Something was
expressed as to hanging about his neck
like pearls, from a text out of Canti
cles. [ Thy neck is like the tower of
David . . . whereon there hang a
thousand bucklers. — Ed.] . . .
Mr. Ashe, the eider. ... I
would have something else added,
which, in my opinion, would tend very

The Protectorate

H3

much to the preservation of himself
and us, and to the quieting of all the
designs of our enemies ; — that his High
ness would be pleased to take upon
him the government according to the
ancient constitution [i. e., become king.
Ed. J ; so that the hopes of our ene
mies' plots would be at an end. Both
our liberties and peace, and the preser
vation and privilege of his Highness,
would be founded upon an old and sure
foundation. . . .
Mr. Highland. That gentleman
that moved this was one of those that
was for the pulling down of what he
would now set up again. That was
Kings, Lords and Commons ; a consti
tution which we have pulled down
with our blood and treasure. Will you
make the Lord Protector the greatest
hypocrite in the world ? . . . I desire
this motion may die, as abominable.
This will set all the honest people of
this nation to weeping and mourning.
. . . The debate fell asleep, I know
not how, but I believe it was by con
sent, (as I heard Mr. Nathaniel Bacon
and others say, as they came out) and
only started by way of probation. I
have not seen so hot a debate vanish so
strangely, like an ignis fatuus. . . .
March 7th.
... I suppose you have heard of
the Address made by 100 officers, to
his Highness, yesterday se'nnight, that
his Highness would not hearken to the
title (king) because it was not pleasing
to his army, and was -matter of scandal
to the people of God, of great rejoicing
to the enemy ; that it was hazardous to
his own person, and of great danger to
the three nations ; such an assumption
making way for Charles Stewart to
come in again.
His Highness returned answer pres
ently to this effect,— that the first man
that told him ot it, was he, the mouth

of the officers then present (meaning
Colonel Mills) ; that, for his part he
had never been at any cabal about the
same (hinting by that, the frequent
cabals that were against Kingship by
certain officers). He said, the time
was, when they boggled not at the
word, (king), for the Instrument by
which the Government now stands,
was presented to his Highness with the
title (king) in it, as some there present
could witness, pointing at a principal
officer, then in his eye, and he refused
to accept of the title. But, how it
comes to pass that they now startle at
that title, they best knew. That, for
his part, he loved the title, a feather in
a hat [Ludlow: "Cromwell said it
was but a feather in a man's cap, and
therefore wondered that men would
not please the children and permit them
to enjoy their rattle."] as little as
they did. That they had made him
their drudge upon all occasions ; to dis
solve the Long Parliament, who had
contracted evil enough by long sitting ;
to call a Parliament, or Convention of
their naming, who met ; and -what did
they? fly at liberty and property, inso
much as if one man had twelve cows,
they held another that wanted cows
ought to take share with his neighbour.
Who could have said anything was
their own, if they had gone on ? . . .
It is time to come to a settlement, and
lay aside arbitrary proceedings, so un
acceptable to the nation. And by the
proceedings of this Parliament, you see
they stand in need of a check, or bal
ancing power (meaning the House of
Lords, or a House so constituted) for
the case of James Nayler might happen
to be your own case. By their judicial
power they fall upon life and member,
and doth the Instrument enable me to
control it ?
These were some of the heads, insisted
on in his speech, though perhaps not the

n4

The Protectorate

same words, yet the full sense ; and the
officers since that time are quieted, and
many fallen from the rest. . . . [The
negotiations on this subject were inter
minable. See Carlyle, who devotes half
a volume to them. — Ed. J

June 20, 1657.
. . . Air. Bampfield, Major- Gen
eral Whalley, and Mr. Vincent moved,
that the Bill for the Sabbath might be
read. . . .
Colonel Holland. We have but too
many penal laws, and 100 clauses of
that kind may well be repealed. These
laws are always turned upon the most
godly. This is very strict, as to that of
unnecessary walking, and coming into
men's houses. The last Bill for the
Lord's Day> I remember, was passed
on a Saturday and carried on with great
zeal. Then I told them they had tied
men from coming to church by water
or coach. Next day, I, coming to
Somerset House to sermon, had my
boat and waterman laid hold on for the
penalty. . . .
Lord Chief-Justice Glynn. I move
against the clause for entering into
men's houses. It may be a snare to all
the nation ; and knaves, in the night
time, may enter and rob men's houses
under this Pretence. When an Act of
Parliament gives a liberty of entry, then
a man may break open doors.
Air. Grove. The constable's voice
is well known, and no man can be
robbed under that pretence.
Air. Godfrey moved a proviso, to
limit the officers' entry only to taverns,
inns, etc. . . .
Mr. Vincent and Colonel Chadwick
were not satisfied with the proviso. It
was too short ; for, now a-days, the
greatest disorders were in private houses,
by sending thither for drink. . . .

Sir Christopher Pack. I move that
cooks' houses be comprehended. . . .
Lord Whitlock. I am against all
liberty of this kind, to enter men's
houses. The law has always been
tender of men's houses. I would not
have the people of England enslaved.
Mr. West. I except against the
words in the Bill, " idle sitting, openly,
at gates or doors, or elsewhere;" and
"walking in church-yards etc." . . .
Let a man be in what posture he will,
your penalty finds him. . . .
Mr. Godfrey. I move to leave out
the words, " profane and idle sitting;"
for this joins issue between the officer
and the party, and puts a plea in the
party' s mouth which is not triable. He
will say he is talking or meditating
about good things. . . .
Mr. Fowell. I move to leave out
the whole clause. . . .
Air. Bodurda. . . . Some persons
have not conveniency to sit at doors ; so
I would have you add more to it, viz. .
" leaning or standing at doors."
Mr. Vincent. Though the law
seems a little strict in this clause, yet
this clause is not to be derided. I can-
not think such sitting at doors, as is
usual, can be a sanctification of the
Lord's day. I would have the question
divided. First put it upon working,
and then upon sitting at doors.
The Alaster of the Rolls. ... In
some parts of this city, unless people
have liberty to sit at doors, you deprive
them of most of the air they have all
the week, and destroy their children.
Lord Chief -Just ice. (Quatenus
ipsuni.) It is most certain that there is
no unlawfulness or guilt in single sitting
at doors. It must be the same as within
doors. It is but intended for example's
sake. . . . You put a negative pregnant
upon a man, to say that sitting at the
door is more profane than standing ; so

The Protectorate

H5

there is no such derision in that. It
may cause discord, and prying amongst
neighbours, into the actions of one
another. And this is still left in the
judgment of constables and head-
boroughs, who are generally bad all
the nation over. . . .
Colonel Briscoe. . . . Man's law
must not be too severe, but rational :
that men may be convinced of the
reason of it. I would not have laws too
rigid. Major Burton. You had as good
leave out the whole Bill as leave out
this clause.

Mr. West. You would not leave
out the word "elsewhere;" for there
may be profaneness, by sitting under
some eminent tree in a village, or an
arbour, or Gray's-Inn walks.
The whole clause being put to the
question, the House was divided. The
Teas went forth.
Noes 37. Colonel Briscoe and Mr.
Williams, Tellers.
Teas 35. Mr. Rhodes and Mr. All-
sopp, Tellers.
So it passed to leave it out [By a
majority of 2 !]

GROUP XIV.
THE RETURN AND CORONATION OF CHARLES II.

1. Extracts from Evelyn and Pepys.
Evelyn. Oct. 22nd, 1658.
Saw ye superb funerall of ye Pro
tector. He was carried from Somerset
House in a velvet bed of state drawn by
six horses, houss'd with ye same; the
pall held by his new Lords ; Oliver
lying in effigie in royal robes, and
crown'd with a crown, sceptre and
globe, like a king. The pendants and
guidons were carried by ye officers
of the army ; the Imperial banners,
achievements, etc., by ye heraulds in
their coates ; a rich caparison' d horse,
embroidered all over with gold ; a
knight of honour arm'd cap-a-pie, and
after all, his guards, souldiers, and in
numerable mourners. In this equipage
they proceeded to Westminster : but it
was the joyfullest funerall I ever saw,
for there were none that cried but dogs,
which the soldiers hooted away with a
barbarous noise, drinking and taking
tobacco in the streetes as they went.
Nov. 7, 1659.
Was publish' d my bold " Apologie
for the King" in this time of danger,
when it was capital to speake or write

in favour of him. It was twice printed,
so universaly it took. Jan. 1 2th, 1659-60.
Wrote to Col. Morley againe to de
clare for his Majesty. Feb. 3rd.
Kept ye fast. Generall Monk came
now to London out of Scotland, but
no man knew what he would do, or
declare, yet he was met on his way by
the gentlemen of all the counties which
he pass'd, with petitions that he would
recall the old long interrupted Parlia
ment, and settle the nation in some
order, being at this time in most pro
digious confusion and under no govern
ment, everybody expecting what would
be next and what he would do.
Feb. 10th.
Now were the gates of the citty
broken down by General Monk, which
exceedingly exasperated the citty, the
souldiers marching up and down as
triumphing over it, and all the old army
of the phanatics put out of their posts,
and sent out of towne. Feb. nth.
A signal day. Monk, perceiving how
infamous and wretched a pack of knaves

u6

Charles II.

would have still usurped the supreame
power, and having intelligence that they
intended to take away his commission,
repenting of what he had don to ye
citty, and where he and his forces were
quartered, marches to White-hall, dissi
pates that nest of robbers, and convenes
the old Parliament, the Rump Parlia
ment (so call'd as retaining some few
rotten members of ye other) being dis
solved ; and for joy whereoff were many
thousand of rumps roasted publicly in
ye streetes at the bon-fires this night,
with ringing of bells, and universal
jubilee. This was the first good omen.
From Feb. 17th to April. 5th I was
detain' d in bed with a kind of double
tertian. . . . During this sicknesse came
divers of my relations and friends to
visite me, and it retarded my going into
the country longer than I intended ;
however, I writ and printed a letter, in
defence of his Majesty, against a wicked
forg'd paper, pretended to be sent from
Bruxells to defame his Majesties person
and vertues, and render him odious,
now when everybody was in hope and
expectation of the General and Parlia
ment recalling him, and establishing ye
government on its antient and right
basis. Pepys. March 5th, 1660.
To Westminster by water, only see
ing Mr. Pinky at his own house, where
he showed me how he had always kept
the lion and unicorn, in the back of his
chimney, bright, in expectation of the
king's coming again. At home I found
Mr. Hunt, who told me how the Par
liament had voted that the Covenant be
printed and hung in churches again.
Great hopes of the king coming again.
6th.
. . . My Lord told me, that there was
great endeavours to bring in the Pro
tector again ; but he told me, too, that

he did believe it would not last long if
he were brought in, no, nor the king
neither (though he seems to think that
he will come in), unless he carry him
self very soberly and well. Everybody
now drink the king's health without
any fear, whereas before it was very
private that a man dare do it. Monk
this day is feasted at Mercer's
Hall. . . . 1 6th.
To Westminster Hall, where I heard
how the Parliament had this day dis
solved themselves, and did pass very
cheerfully through the Hall, and the
Speaker without his mace. The whole
Hall was joyful thereat, as well as them
selves, and now they begin to talk loud
of the king. To-night, I am told, that
yesterday, about five o'clock in the
afternoon, one came with a ladder to
the Great Exchange, and wiped with a
brush the inscription that was on King
Charles, and that there was a great bon
fire made in the Exchange, and people
called out " God bless King Charles the
Second!" 19th.
All the discourse nowaday is, that the
king will come again, and for all I see,
it is the wishes of all ; and all do believe
that it will be so. April nth.
. . . All the news from London is
that things go on further towards a
king. That the Skinner's Company
the other day at their entertaining Gen
eral Monk had took down the Parlia
ment arms in their Hall, and set up the
king's. My Lord and I had a great
deal of discourse about the several cap
tains of the fleet, and his interest among
them, and had his mind clear to bring
in the king. He confessed to me that
he was not sure of his own captain, to
be true to him, and that he did not like
Captain Stokes.

Charles II.

117

22nd.
Several Londoners, strangers, friends
of the captain, dined here, who, among
other things, told us how the king's
arms are every day set up in houses and
churches, particularly in Allhallows
Church in Thames Street, John Simp
son's church, which being privately
done was a great eyesore to his people
when they came to church and saw it.
Also they told us for certain that the
king' s statue is making by the Mercer' s
Company (who are bound to do it) to
set up in the Exchange. May ist.
To-day I hear they were very merry
at Deale, setting up the king's flags
upon one of their maypoles, and drink
ing his health upon their knees in the
streets, and firing the guns, which the
soldiers of the castle threatened, but
durst not oppose. 2nd.
Mr. Dunne from London, with letters
that tell us the welcome news of the
Parliament's votes yesterday, which
will be remembered for the happiest
May-day that hath been many a year to
England. The king's letter was read
in the House, wherein he submits him
self and all things to them, as to an Act
of Oblivion to all, unless they shall
please to except any, as to the confirm
ing of the sales of the king's and
Church lands, if they see good. The
House, upon reading the letter, ordered
£50,000 to be forthwith provided to
send to his Majesty for his present sup
ply ; and a committee chosen to return
an answer of thanks to his Majesty for
his gracious letter ; and that the letter
be kept among the records of the Par
liament ; and in all this not so much as
one No. So that Luke Robinson him
self stood up and made a recantation of
what he had done, and promises to be
a loyal subject to his prince for the

time to come. The City of London
have put out a declaration, wherein
they do disclaim their owning any other
government but that of a King, Lords,
and Commons. Thanks was given by
the House to Sir John Greenville, one
of the Bedchamber to the king, who
brought the letter, and they continued
bare all the time it was reading. Upon
notice from the Lords to the Commons,
of their desire that the Commons would
join with them in their vote for King,
Lords, and Commons; the Commons
did concur, and voted that all books
whatever that are out against the Gov
ernment of King, Lords and Commons
should be brought into the House and
burned. Great joy all yesterday at
London, and at night more bonfires
than ever, and ringing of bells, and
drinking of the king's health upon their
knees in the streets, which methinks is
a little too much. But everybody
seems to be joyful in the business, in
somuch that our sea-commanders now
begin to say so too, which a week ago
they would not do. And our seamen,
as many as had money or credit for
drink, did do nothing else this evening.
This day come Mr. North (Sir Dudley
North's son) on board, to spend a little
time here, which my Lord was a little
troubled at, but he seems to be a fine
gentleman, and at night did play his
part exceeding well at first sight. 3rd.
This morning my Lord showed me
the King's declaration, and his letter to
the two generals, to be communicated
to the fleet. The contents of the letter
are his offer of grace to all that will
come in within forty days, only except
ing them that the Parliament shall here
after except. That the sales of lands
during these troubles, and all other
things, shall be left to the Parliament,
by which he will stand. The letter

n8

Charles. II.

dated at Breda, April 4-14, 1660, in the
twelfth year of his reign. Upon the
receipt of it this monningby an express,
Mr. Philips, one of the messengers of
the Council from General Monk, my
Lord summoned a council of war, and
in the meantime did dictate to me how
he would have the vote ordered which
he would have pass this council.
Which done, the commanders all came
on board, and the council sat in the
coach (the first council of war that had
been in my time), where I read the
letter and declaration ; and while they
were discoursing upon it, I seemed to
draw up a vote, which being offered,
they passed. Not one man seemed to
say no to it, though I am confident
many in their hearts were against it.
After this was done, I went up to the
quarter-deck with my Lord and the
commanders, and there read both the
papers and the vote ; which done, and
demanding their opinion, the seamen
did all of them cry out, "God bless
King Charles ! " with the greatest joy
immaginable. . . .
Evelyn. May 3rd.
Came the most happy tidings of his
Majesty's gracious declaration and ap
plications to the Parliament, Generall,
and People, and their dutiful acceptance
and acknowledgement, after a most
bloudy and unreasonable rebellion of
neare 20 yeares. Praised be forever the
Lord of Heaven, who onely doeth won
drous things, be-cause His mercy endur-
eth forever. Pepys. May 3rd.
My letters at night tell me that the
House did deliver their letter to Sir
John Greenville, in answer to the
King's sending, and that they give him
£500 for his pains, to buy him a jewel,
and that besides the £50,000 ordered

to be borrowed of the City for the pres
ent use of the King, the twelve com
panies of the City do give every one
of them to his Majesty as a present,
£1,000. 5th.
. . . This evening come Dr. Clarges
to Deal, going to the King, where the
townspeople strewed the streets with
herbs against his coming, for joy of his
going. Never was there so general a
content as there is now. I cannot but
remember that our parson did, in his
prayer tonight, pray for the long life
and happiness of our King and dread
Sovereign, that may last as long as the
sun and moon endureth. 16th.
. . . This afternoon Mr. Edward
Pickering told me in what a sad, poor
condition for clothes and money the
King was, and all his attendants, when
he came to him first from my Lord,
their clothes not being worth forty shil
lings the best of them. And how over
joyed the King was when Sir J. Green
ville brought him some money ; so
joyful, that he called the Princess Royal
and Duke of York to look upon it as it
lay in the portmanteau before it was
taken out. . . . 17th.
. . . Before dinner Mr. Edw. Pick
ering and I,W. Howe, Pirn and my boy,
to Scheveling, where we took coach,
and so to the Hague, where walking,
intending to find one that might shew
us the King incognito, I met with Cap
tain Whittington (that had formerly
brought a letter to my Lord from the
Mayor of London) , and he did promise
me to do it, but first we went and
dined. At dinner in came Dr. Cade, a
merry mad parson of the King's. And
they two got the child and me (the
others not being able to crowd in) to
see the King, who kissed the child very

Charles II.

119

affectionately. Then we kissed his, and
the Duke of York's and the Princess
Royal's hands. The King seems to be
a very sober man ; and a very splendid
Court he hath in the number of per
sons of quality that are about him ;
English very rich in habit. From the
King to the Lord Chancellor, who did
lie bed-rid of the gout : he spoke very
merrily to the child and me. After
that, going to see the Queen of Bohemia,
[the Winter Queen] I met Dr. Fuller,
whom I sent to a tavern with Mr.
Edw. Pickering, while I and the rest
went to see the Queen, who used us
very respectfully : her hand we all
kissed. She seems a very debonaire,
but a plain lady. . . . 2 1 St.
. . . hearing by letters that came
hither in my absence, that the Parlia
ment had ordered all persons to be
secured, in order to a trial, that did sit
as judges in the late King's death, and
all the officers attending the Court.
Sir John Lenthall moving in the House,
that all that had borne arms against
the King should be exempted from par
don, he was called to the bar of the
House, and after a severe reproof he
was degraded his knighthood. 23rd.
In the morning come infinity of peo
ple on board from the King to go along
with him. My Lord, Mr. Crewe, and
others go on shore to meet the King as
he comes off from shore, where Sir R.
Stayner, bringing his Majesty into the
boat, I hear that his Majesty did with
a great deal of affection kiss my Lord
upon his first meeting. The King,
with the two Dukes and Queen of Bo
hemia, Princess Royal, and Prince of
Orange, come on board, where I in
their coming in kissed the King's,
Queen's, and Princess's hands, having
done the other before. Infinite shoot

ing off of the guns, and that in a dis
order on purpose, which was better
than if it had been otherwise. All day
nothing but Lords and persons of
honour on board, that we were exceed
ing full. Dined in a great deal of state,
the Royal company by themselves in
the coach, which was a blessed sight
to see. After dinner the King and
Duke altered the name of some of the
ships, viz., the Nazeby, into Charles;
the Richard, James ; the Speaker,
Mary. . . . We weighed anchor, and
with a fresh gale and most happy
weather we set sail for England. All
the afternoon the King walked here and
there, up and down (quite contrary to
what I thought him to have been) very
active and stirring. Upon the quarter
deck he fell into discourse of his escape
from Worcester, where it made me
ready to weep to hear the stories that
he told of his difficulties that he had
passed through, as his travelling four
days and three nights on foot, every
step up to his knees in dirt, with nothing
but a green coat and a pair of country
breeches on, and a pair of country shoes
that made him so sore all over his feet
that he could scarce stir. Yet he was
forced to run away from a miller and
other company, that took them for
rogues. His sitting at table at one
place, where the master of the house
that had not seen him in eight years,
did know him, but kept it private ;
when at the same table there was one
that had been of his own regiment at
Worcester, could not know him, but
made him drink the King's health, and
said that the King was at least four
fingers higher than he. At another
place he was by some servants of the
house made to drink, that they might
know that he was not a Roundhead,
which they swore he was. In another
place at his inn, the master of the house,
as the King was standing with his hands

120

Charles II.

upon the back of a chair by the fireside,
kneeled down and kissed his hand, pri
vately, saying, that he would not ask
him who he was, but bid God bless him
whither he was going. Then the diffi
culties in getting a boat to get into
France, where he was fain to plot with
the master thereof to keep his design
from the foreman and a boy (which
was all the ship's company), and so
get to Fecamp in France. At Rouen
he loqked so poorly, that the people
went into the rooms before he went
away to see whether he had not stole
something or other. 25th.
By the morning we were come close
to the land, and everybody made ready
to get on shore. The King and the
two Dukes did eat their breakfast before
they went, and there being set some
ship' s diet, they ate of nothing else but
pease and pork, and boiled beef . . .
and so got on shore when the King did,
who was received by General Monk
with all imaginable love and respect at
his entrance upon the land of Dover.
Infinite the crowd of people and the
horsemen, ©itizens, and noblemen of
all sorts. The Mayor of the town
came and gave him his white staff, the
badge of his place, which the King did
give him again. The Mayor also pre
sented him from the town a very rich
Bible, which he took, and said it was
the thing that he loved above all things
in the world. A canopy was provided
for him to stand under, which he did,
and talked awhile with General Monk
and others, and so into a stately coach
there set for him, and so away through
the town towards Canterbury, without
making any state at Dover. The shout
ing and joy expressed by all is past
imagination. Seeing that my Lord did
not stir out of his barge, I got into a
boat and so into his barge. My Lord
almost transported with joy that he had

done all this without any the least blur
or obstruction in the world. . • •
Evelyn. May 29th.
This day his Majestie Charles the
Second came to London after a sad and
long exile and calamitous suffering both
of the king and church, being 17 yeares.
This was also his birth-day, and with
a triumph of above 20,000 horse and
foote, brandishing their swords and
shouting with inexpressible joy; the
wayes strewed with flowers, the bells
ringing, the streetes hung with tapissry,
fountaines running with wine ; the
Maior, Aldermen, and all the Compa
nies in their liveries, chaines of gold and
banners ; Lords and Nobles clad in
cloth of silver, gold, and velvet; the
windowes and balconies all set with
ladies ; trumpets, music, and myriads
of people flocking, even so far as from
Rochester, so as they were seven houres
in passing the citty, even from 2 in ye
afternoone till 9 at night.
I stood in the Strand and beheld it,
and bless' d God. And all this was don
without one drop of bloud shed, and by
that very army which rebell'd against
him; but it was ye Lord's doing, for
such a restauration was never mention' d
in any history antient or modern, since
the returne of the Jews from the Baby
lonish captivity ; nor so joyf ull a day
and so bright ever seene in this nation,
this hapning when to expect or effect
it was past all human policy. June 4th.
I was carried to his Majestie when
very few noblemen were with him, and
kiss'd his hands, being very graciously
receiv'd. . . . June 1 8th.
Goods that had been pillag'd frome
White-hall during ye rebellion were
now daily brought in and restor'd upon
proclamation ; as plate, hangings, pic
tures, etc.

' i&jfer ./.{(rTtfix* f $$£

Jj£x£j$r0wn ft/it. //>'*•<*,

CHARLES II.

Charles II.

121

July 5th.
I saw his Majestie go with as much
pompe and splendour as any earthly
prince could do to the greate citty
feast. . . . Pepys. July 5th.
This morning my brother Tom
brought me my jackanapes coat with
silver buttons. It rained this morning,
which makes us fear that the glory of
this day will be lost ; the King and
Parliament being to be entertained by
the City to-day with great pomp. Mr.
Hater was with me to-day, and I
agreed with him to be my clerk.
Being at Whitehall I saw, the King,
the Dukes, and all their attendants go
forth in the rain to the City, and it
spoiled many a fine suit of clothes. . . .
October 13th.
I went out to Charing Cross, to see
Major-General Harrison hanged, drawn
and quartered ; which was done there,
he looking as cheerful as any man could
do in that condition. He was pres
ently cut down, and his head and heart
shown to the people, at which there
was great shouts of joy. It is said that
he said that he was sure to come shortly
at the right hand of Christ to judge them
that now had judged him ; and that his
wife do expect his coming again.
Thus it was my chance to see the King
beheaded at Whitehall, and to see the
first blood shed in revenge for the King
at Charing Cross. 15th.
This morning Mr. Carew was hanged
and quartered at Charing Cross ; but
his quarters, by a great favour, are not
to be hanged up. Evelyn. Oct. 17th.
Scot, Scroope, Cook and Jones, suf
fered for the reward of their iniquities

at Charing Crosse, in sight of the place
where they put to death their natural
Prince, and in the presence of the
King his sonn, whom they also sought
to kill. I saw not their execution, but
met their quarters mangled and cutt
and reeking as they were brought from
the gallows in baskets on the hurdle.
O the miraculous providence of God !
Pepys. Oct. 18th.
This morning, it being expected that
Colonel Hacker and Axtel should die,
I went to Newgate, but found they
were reprieved till to-morrow. 19th.
This morning my dining-room was
finished with green serge hanging and
gilt leather, which is very handsome.
This morning Hacker and Axtel were
hanged and quartered, as the rest
are. . . . 20th.
. . . This afternoon, going through
London, and calling at Crowe's the
upholsterer's in Saint Bartholomew's,
I saw limbs of some of our new traitors
set upon Aldersgate, which was a sad
sight to see ; and a bloody week this
and the last have been, there being ten
hanged, drawn, and quartered.
Evelyn .
Jan. 30th, 1660-1.
. . . This day (O the stupendous and
inscrutable judgments of God ! ) were
the carcasses of those arch rebells
Cromwell, Bradshaw the Judge who
condemn' d his Majestie, and Ireton
sonn-in-law to ye Usurper, dragg'd out
of their superb tombs in Westminster
among the Kings, to Tyburne, and
hanged on the gallows there from 9 in
ye morning till 6 at night, and then
buried under that fatal and ignominious
monument in a deepe pitt ; thousands
of people who had seene them in all

122

Charles II.

their pride being spectators. Looke
back at Nov. 22nd, 1658,* and be
astonish' d ! and feare God and honor
ye King ; but meddle not with them
who are given to change ! . . .
May 22nd, 1661. .
The Scotch Covenant was. burnt by
the common hangman in divers places
in London. Oh prodigious change !
Pepys. April 22nd, 1661.
The King's going from the Tower
to Whitehall. Up early and made
myself as fine as I could, and put on
my velvet coat, the first day that I put
it on, though made half a year ago.
And being ready, Sir W. Batten, my
Lady, and his two daughters and his
son and wife, and Sir W. Pen and his
son and I, went to Mr. Young's the
flag-maker, in Cornhill ; and there we
had a good room to ourselves, with
¦wine and good cake, and saw the show
very well. In which it is impossible to
relate the glory of this day, expressed
in the clothes of them that rid, and
their horses and their horse's clothes.
Among others, my Lord Sandwich's
embroidery and diamonds where not
ordinary among them. The Knights
of the Bath was a brave sight of itself ;
and their Esquires, among which Mr.
Armiger was an Esquire of one of the
Knights. Remarkable were the two
men that represented the two Dukes of
Normandy and Aquitaine. The
Bishops come next after Barons, which
is the higher place ; which makes me
think that the next Parliament they
will be called to the House of Lords.
My Lord Monk rode bare after the
King, and led in his hand a spare horse,
as being Master of the Horse. The
King, in a most rich embroidered suit
and cloak, looked most noble. Wad-
low, the vintner, at the Devil, in Fleet
*See page 115.

Street, did lead a fine company of sol
diers, all young comely men, in white
doublets. There followed the Vice-
Chamberlain, Sir G. Carteret, a com
pany of men all like Turks ; but I
know not yet, what they are for. The
streets all gravelled, and the houses
hung with carpets before them, made
brave show, and the ladies out of the
windows. So glorious was the show
with gold and silver, that we are not
able to look at it, our eyes at last being
so much overcome. Both the King
and the Duke of York took notice of
us, as they saw us at the window.
In the evening, by water to Whitehall
to my Lord's, and there I spoke with
my Lord. He talked with me about
my suit, which was made in France,
and cost him £200, and very rich it is
with embroidery.

Coronation Day.

23rd.

About four I rose and got to the
Abbey, where I followed Sir J. Den-
ham, the surveyor, with some company
that he was leading in. And with
much ado, by the favor of Mr. Cooper,
his man, did get up into a great scaffold
across the north end of the Abbey,
where with a great deal of patience
I sat from past four till eleven before
the King came in. And a great pleas
ure it was to see the Abbey raised in
the middle, all covered with red, and a
throne (that is a chair) and a foot-stool
on the top of it ; and all the officers of
all kinds, so much as the very fiddlers,
in red vests. At last comes in the Dean
and the Prebends of Westminster, with
the Bishops (many of them in cloth-of-
gold capes), and after them the nobility,
all in their Parliament robes, which was
a most magnificent sight. Then the
Duke and the King with sceptre (carried
by my Lord Sandwich) and sword and
wand before him, and the crown too.

Charles II.

123

The King in his robes, bareheaded,
which was very fine. And after all had
placed themselves, there was a sermon
and a service ; and then in the Choir at
the high altar, the King passed through
all the ceremonies of the coronation,
which to my great grief I and most in
the Abbey could not see. The crown
being put upon his head, a great shout
begun, and he came forth to the throne,
and there passed through more cere-
emonies : as taking the oaths, and hav
ing things read to him by the Bishop ;
and his lords (who put on their caps
as soon as the king put on his crown)
and bishops come and kneeled before
him. And three times the king at arms
went to the three open places on the
scaffold, and proclaimed, that if any
one could show any reason why Charles
Stewart should not be King of England,
that now he should come and speak.
And a General Pardon also was read
by the Lord Chancellor, and medals
flung up and down by my Lord Corn-
wallis, of silver, but I could not come by
any. But so great was the noise that I
could make but little of the music ; and
indeed it was lost to every body. I went
out a little while before the king had
done all the ceremonies, and went round
the Abbey to Westminster Hall all the
way within rails, and 10,000 people
with the ground covered with blue
cloth ; and scaffolds all the way. Into
the Hall I got, where it was very fine
with hangings and scaffolds one upon
another full of brave ladies; and my
wife in one little one, on the right hand.
Here I stayed walking up and down,
and at last upon one of the side stalls I
stood and saw the King come in with all
the persons (but the soldiers) that were
yesterday in the cavalcade ; and a most
pleasant sight it was to see them in their
several robes. And the King come in
with the crown on, and his scepter in
his hand, and a canopy borne up by

six silver staves, carried by Barons of
the Cinque Ports, and little bells at
every end. And after a long time, he
got up to the farther end, and all set
themselves clown at their several tables ;
and that was also a brave sight : and
the King' s first course carried up by the
Knights of the Bath. And many fine
ceremonies there was of the herald's
leading up people before him, and bow
ing ; and my Lord of Albemarle' s going
to the kitchen and eating a bit of the
first dish that was to go to the King's
table. But, above all, was there three
Lord's, Northumberland, and Suffolk,
and the Duke of Ormond, coming
before the courses on horseback, stay
ing so all dinner-time, and at last bring
ing up (Dymock) the King's champion,
all in armour on horseback, with the
spear and target carried before him.
And a herald proclaims, that if any
dare deny Charles Stewart to be lawful
" King of England, here was a cham
pion that would fight for him;" and
with these words, the champion flings
down his gauntlet, and all this he do
three times in his going up towards the
King's table. To which when he is
come, the King drinks to him, and then
sends him the cup, which is of gold,
and he drinks it off, and then rides back
again with the cup in his hand. I went
from table to table to see the bishops
and all others at their dinner, and was
infinitely pleased with it. And at the
Lords table I met with William Howe,
and he spoke to my Lord for me, and
he did give him four rabbits and a pullet,
and so Mr. Creed and I got Mr. Min-
shell to give us some bread, and so we
at a stall eat it, as everybody else did
what they could get. I took a great
deal of pleasure to go up and down,
and look upon the ladies, and to hear
the music of all sorts, but above all the
twenty-four violins. About six at night
they had dined, and I went up to my

124

Charles II.

wife. And strange it is to think that
these two days have held up fair till
now that all is done, and the King gone
out of the Hall ; and then it fell a-rain-
ing and thundering and lightning as I
have not seen it do for some years ;
which people did take great notice of.
God's blessing of the work of these two
days, which is a foolery to take too
much notice of such things. I observed
little disorder of all this, only the King's
footmen had got hold of the canopy,
and would keep it from the Barons of
the Cinque Ports, which they endeav

oured to force from them again, but
could not do it till my Lord the Duke
of Albemarle caused it to be put in Sir
R. Pye's hand till to-morrow to be
decided. . . . 24th.
At night, set myself to write down
these three days diary, and while I am
about it, I hear the noise of the cham
bers, and other things of the fireworks,
which are now playing upon the
Thames before the King ; and I wish
myself with them, being sorry not to
see them.

GROUP XV.
THE PLAGUE OF LONDON, 1665 A. D.

1. Extracts from Pepys' s Diary.
June 7th, 1665.
The hottest day that ever I felt in my
life. This day, much against my will,
I did in Drury Lane see two or three
houses marked with a red cross upon
the doors, and " Lord have mercy upon
us!" written there; which was a sad
sight to me, being the first of the kind
that, to my remembrance, I ever saw.
June 10th.
In the evening home to supper ; and
there, to my great trouble, hear that the
plague is come into the City, though it
hath, these three or four weeks since
its beginning, been wholly out of the
City; but where should it begin but in
my good friend and neighbour's, Dr.
Burnett, in Fenchurch Street ; which,
in both points, troubles me mightily.
June nth.
I saw poor Dr. Burnett's door shut;
but he hath, I hear, gained great good
will among his neighbours : for he
discovered it himself first, and caused
himself to be shut up of his own ac
cord ; which was very handsome.

June 15th.
Up, and put on my new stuff suit
with close knees, which becomes me
most nobly, as my wife says. . . . The
town grows very sickly, and people to
be afraid of it ; there dying this last
week of the plague 112, from 43 the
week before ; whereof but one in Fen
church Street, and one in Broad Street,
by the Treasurer's office. June 17th.
It struck me very deep this afternoon
going with a hackney coach from Lord
Treasurer's down Holborn, the coach
man I found to drive easily and easily,
at last stood still, and came down hardly
able to stand, and told me that he was
suddenly struck very sick, and almost
blind — he could not see ; so I alight,
and went into another coach, with a
sad heart for the poor man and for my
self also lest he should have been struck
with the plague. June 23rd.
Home by hackney-coach, which is
become a very dangerous passage now-
a-days, the sickness increasing mightily.

The Plague of London

125

June 27th.
The plague increases mightily, I this
day seeing a house, at a bit- maker's,
over against St. Clement's Church, in
the open street, shut up, which is a sad
sight. June 28th.
In my way to Westminster Hall, I ob
served several plague-houses in King's
Street and near the Palace. June 29th.
By water to Whitehall, where the
Court full of waggons and people ready
to go out of town. This end of the
town every day grows very bad of the
plague. The Mortality Bill is come to
267, which is about ninety more than
the last ; and of these but four in the
City, which is a great blessing to us.
July ist.
To Westminster, where I hear the
sickness increases greatly. Sad at the
news, that seven or eight houses in
Buryinghall Street are shut up of the
plague. July 3rd.
The season growing so sickly, that it
is much to be feared how a man can
escape having a share with others in it,
for which the good Lord God bless me !
or make me fitted to receive it.
July 6th.
I could not see Lord Brouncker, nor
had much mind, one of the two great
houses within two doors of him being
shut up: and, Lord! the number of
houses visited, which this day I observed
through the town, quite round in my
way, by Long Lane and London Wall.
July 13th.
By water at night late to Sir G. Car
teret's, but there being no oars to carry
me, I was fain to call a sculler that had
a gentleman already in it, and he
proved a man of love to music, and he
and I sung together the way down with
great pleasure. Above 700 died of the
plague this week.

July iSth.
I was much troubled this day to hear
at Westminster how the officers do
bury the dead in the open Tuttle fields,
pretending want of room elsewhere ;
whereas the New Chapel church-yard
was walled in at the public charge in
the last plague time, merely for want
of room ; and now none, but such as
are able to pay dear for it can be buried
there. July 29th.
Up betimes, and, after viewing some
of my wife's pictures, which now she
is come to do very finely, to the office.
At noon to dinner, where I hear that
my Will is come in thither, and laid
down upon my bed, ill of the head
ache, which put me into extraordinary
fear ; and I studied all I could to get
him out of the house, and set my peo
ple to work to do it without discour
aging him, and myself went forth to
the Old Exchange to pay my fair Bate-
lier for some linen, and took leave of
her, they breaking up shop. July 30th.
(Lord's day.) Up, and in my night
gown, cap, and neck-cloth, undressed
all day long — lost not a minute, but in
my chamber, setting my Tangier ac
counts to rights. Will is very well
again. It was a sad noise to hear our
bell to toll and ring so often to-day,
either for deaths or burials, I think,
five or six times. Aug. 3rd.
. . . By-and-by met my Lord Crewe
returning ; Mr. Marr telling me by the
way how a maid-servant of Mr. John
Wright's, who lives thereabouts, falling
sick of the plague, she was removed to
an out-house, and a nurse appointed to
look to her ; who being once absent the
maid got out of the house at the win
dow and ran away. The nurse coming
and knocking, and having no answer,
believed she was dead, and went and

126

The Plague of London

told Mr. Wright so, who and his lady
were in a great strait what to do to get
her buried. At last resolved to go to
Brentwood, hard by, being in the par
ish, and there get people to do it. But
they would not ; so he went home full
of trouble, and in the way met the
wench walking over the common,
which frightened him worse than
before, and was forced to send people
to take her, which he did, and they got
one of the pest-coaches, and put her
into it to carry her to a pest-house.
And passing in a narrow lane, Sir
Anthony Browne, with his brother and
some friends in the coach, met this
coach with the curtains drawn close.
The brother being a young man, and
believing there might be some lady in
it that would not be seen, and the way
being narrow, he thrust his head out of
his own into her coach and to look,
and there saw somebody looking very
ill, and in a silk dress, and stunk
mightily, which the coachman also
cried out upon. And presently they
came up to some people that stood
looking after it, and told our gallants
that it was a maid of Mr. Wright's
carried away sick of the plague ; which
put the young gentleman into a fright
had almost cost him his life, but is now
well again. August ioth.
The people die so that now it seems
they are fain to carry the dead to be
buried by daylight, the nights not suffic
ing to do it in. And my Lord Mayor
commands people to be within at
nine at night all, as they say, that the
sick may have liberty to go abroad for
air. There is also one dead out of
one of our ships at Deptford, which
troubles us mightily — the Providence,
fire-ship, which was just fitted to go to
sea; but they tell me to-day no more
sick on board. And this day, W. Bod-
ham tells me that one is dead at Wool

wich, not far from the rope-yard. I
am told, too, that a wife of one of the
grooms at Court is dead at Salisbury.
August 15.
It was dark before I could get home,
and so land at Church-yard stairs,
where, to my great trouble, I met a
dead corpse of the plague, in the nar
row alley, just bringing down a little
pair of stairs. But I thank God I was
not much disturbed at it. However, I
shall beware of being late abroad
again.

2. Letter of John Sturgeon to Sir
Robert Harley. (In ; 14th report of
Ms. Commission. Appendix. Lond.
1894.) August 19, 1665.
(I and all my children are in good
health notwithstanding that the plague
is round about us.) Six deying the
very nex wale to us. Heare are the
frequent alarums of death. Heare is
nothing but groaning and crying and
dying. Carts are the beeres, wide pits
are the graves. The carkasses of the
dead may say with the sons of the
prophets ' Behould the plase where we
lye is to strait for us,' for they are not
allowed to lye single in thare earthen
beds but are pyled up like fagots in a
stack for the society of thare future
resurrection. Heare you may mett on
pale ghost muffled up under the throat,
another dragging his legs after him by
reason of the tumor of his groyne, an
other bespotted with the tokens of in
stant death, and yet the greatest plage
of all is few consider the reason why
we are plaged.

3. Extracts from Pepys' s Diary.
Aug. 20th.
After church, to my inn, and ate and
drank, and so about seven o'clock by
water, and got, between nine and ten,

The Plague of London

127

to Queenhithe, very dark ; and I could
not get my waterman to go elsewhere
for fear of the plague. Thence with a
lantern, in great fear of meeting of
dead corpses carrying to be buried ;
but, blessed be God ! met none.
Aug. 22nd.
Up, and being importuned by my
wife and her two maids, which are
both good wenches, for me to buy a
necklace of pearl for her, and I prom
ising to give her one of £60 in two
years at furthest, and less if she pleases
me in her painting. I went away and
walked to Greenwich, in my way see
ing a coffin with a dead body therein,
dead of the plague, lying in an open
close belonging to Coome farm, which
was carried out last night, and the
parish have not appointed anybody to
bury it ; but only set a watch there all
day and night, that nobody should go
thither or come thence : this disease
making us more cruel to one another
than we are to dogs. Walked to Red-
riffe, troubled to go through the little
lane, where the plague is, but did, and
took water and home, where all well.
Aug. 25th.
This day I am told that Dr. Burnett,
my physician, is this morning dead of
the plague, which is strange, his man
dving so long ago, and his house this
month open again. Now himself dead.
Poor, unfortunate man ! Aug. 30th.
I went forth and walked towards
Moorfields to see, God forgive my pre
sumption ! whether I could see any dead
corpse going to the grave ; but, as God
would have it, did not. But Lord !
how everybody's looks and discourse
in the street is of death, and nothing
else; and few people going up and
down, that the town is like a place dis
tressed and forsaken.

Sept. 3rd.
(Lord's day.) Up, and put on my
coloured silk suit, very fine, and my
new periwig, bought a good while since,
but durst not wear, because the plague
was in Westminster when I bought it ;
and it is a wonder what will be the
fashion after the plague is done as to
periwigs, for nobody will dare to buy
any hair for fear of the infection, that
it had been cut off the heads of peo
pie dead of the plague. My Lord
Brouncker, Sir J. Minnes, and I, up
to the Vestry at the desire of the Jus
tices of the Peace, in order to the doing
something for the keeping of the plague
from growing ; but, Lord ! to consider
the madness of people of the town,
who will, because they are forbid, come
in crowds along with the dead corpses
to see them buried ; but we agreed on
some orders for the prevention thereof.
Sept. 6th.
To London to pack up more things ;
and there I saw fires burning in the
street, as it is through the whole City,
by the Lord Mayor's order. Thence
by water to the Duke of Albemarle' s :
all the way fires on each side of the
Thames, and strange to see in broad
daylight two or three burials upon the
bankside, one at the very heels of an
other : doubtless, all of the plague ;
and yet at least forty or fifty people
going along with evsry one of them.
Sept. 7th.
To the Tower, and there sent for the
weekly bill, and find 8,252 dead in all,
and of them 6,978 of the plague ; which
is a most dreadful number, and shows
reasons to fear that the plague hath got
that hold that it will yet continue
among us. Sept. 15th.
With Captain Cocke, and there drank
a cup of good drink, which I am fain
to allow myself during this plague

128

The Plague of London

time, by advice of all, and not con
trary to my oath, my physician being
dead, and chirurgeon out of the way,
whose advice I am obliged to take. In
much pain to think what I shall do this
winter time ; for going every day to
Woolwich I cannot, without endan
gering my life ; and staying from my
wife at Greenwich is not handsome.

4. Letter of J. Tillison to Dr. San-
croft. (In Ellis, Original Letters. Sec
ond Series, Vol. IV. London, 1829.)
September 14, 1665.
Reverend Sir : ... We are in good
hopes that God in his mercy will put
a stop to this sad calamity of sickness ;
but the desolation of the city is very
great. That heart is either steel or
stone that will not lament this sad visi
tation, and will not bleed for those un
utterable sorrows.
It is time, God knows, that one woe
courts another ; those that are sick are
in extreme sorrow ; the poor are in
need ; those that are in health are in
fear of infection on the one side, and
the wicked inventions of hellish rebel
lious spirits do put us in an uproar on
the other side.
What eye would not weep to see so
many habitations uninhabited ; the poor
sick not visited ; the hungry not fed ;
the grave not satisfied ! Death stares
us continually in the face in every in
fected person that passeth by us ; in
every coffin which is daily and hourly
carried along the streets. The bells
never cease to put us in mind of our
mortality. The custom was, in the beginning,
to bury the dead in the night only ;
now, both night and day will hardly be
time enough to do it.
For the last week, mortality did
too apparently evidence that, that the
dead was piled in heaps above ground

for some hours together, before either
time could be gained or place to bury
them in.
The Quakers (as we are informed)
have buried in their piece of ground a
thousand for some weeks together last
past. Many are dead in Ludgate, Newgate
and Christ Church Hospital, and many
other places about the town which are
not included in the bill of mortality.
The disease itself (as is acknowledged
by our practitioners in physic) was
more favorable in the beginning of the
contagion ; now more fierce and violent ;
and they themselves do likewise confess
to stand amazed to meet with so many
various symptons which they find
amongst their patients. One week the
general distempers are botches and boils ;
the next week as clear-skinned as may
be ; but death spares neither. One
week, full of spots and tokens ; and
perhaps the succeeding, none at all.
Now taken with vomiting and loose
ness, and within two or three days al
most a general raging madness. One
while patients use to linger four or five
days, at other times not forty eight
hours ; and at this very time we find it
more quick than ever it was. Where
it has had its fling, there it decreases ;
It reigned most heretofore in alleys,
etc. now it domineers in the open
streets. The poorer sort was most af
flicted ; now the richer bear a share.
Captain Colchester is dead. Fleet-
ham and all his family are clearly swept
away, except one maid. Dr. Burnett,
Dr. Glover, and one or two more of
the College of Physicians, with Dr.
O'Dowd, which was licensed by my
Lord's Grace of Canterbury, some sur
geons, apothecaries, and Johnson the
chemist, died all very suddenly. Some
say (but God forbid that I should re
port it for the truth) that these in a
consultation together, if not all, yet

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129

the greatest part of them, attempted to
open a dead corpse which was full of
the tokens ; and being in hand with the
dissected body, some fell down dead
immediately, and others did not outlive
the next day at noon.
All is well and in safety at your
house, God be thanked. Upon Tues
day last I made it my day's work to
kindle fires in every room of the house
where I could do it, and aired all the bed
clothes and bedding at the fires, and so
let them all lie abroad until this morn
ing ; the feather bed in the back cham
ber was almost spoiled with the heavy
weight of carpets and other things
upon it. I am afraid I have been too
tedious, and therefore beg your pardon
and take my leave, who am,
Reverend Sir,
your most faithful humble servant,
Jo. Tillison.
Brimstone, hops, pepper, and frank
incense, etc., I use to fume the rooms
with. For yourself.

5. Extracts from Pepys' s Diary.
Sept. 20th.
Up, and after being trimmed, the
first time I have been touched by a
barber these twelve months, I think,
and more, by-and-by Sir J. Minnes and
Sir W. Batten met, to go into my Lord
Brouncker's coach, and so we four to
Lambeth, and thence to the Duke of
Albemarle, to inform him what we
have done as to the fleet, which is very
little, and to receive his direction. But,
Lord ! what a sad time it is to see no
boats upon the river ; and grass grows
all up and down Whitehall court, and
nobody but poor wretches in the streets !
And which is worst of all, the Duke
showed us the number of the plague
this week, brought in the last night

from the Lord Mayor; that it is in
creased about 600 more than the last,
which is quite contrary to our hopes
and expectations, from the coldness of
the late season. For the whole general
number is 8,297, anc^ °f them the
plague 7,165; which is more, in tlje
whole, by above 50, than the biggest
bill yet : which is very grievous to us
all. I find Sir W. Batten and his lady
gone home to Walthamstow, with some
necessity, hearing that a maid-servant
of theirs is taken ill. Sept. 27th.
Up and saw and admired my wife's
picture of Our Saviour, now finished,
which is very pretty. By water to
Greenwich, where to the "King's
Head," the great music-house, the first
time I was ever there. Much troubled
to hear from Creed, that he was told at
Salisbury that I am come to be a great
swearer and drunkard ; but Lord ! to
see how my late little drinking of wine
is taken notice of by envious men, to
my disadvantage. To Captain Cocke' s
and he not yet come from town, to Mr.
Evelyn, where much company ; and
thence in his coach with him to the
Duke of Albemarle, by Lambeth, who
was in a mighty pleasant humour ; and
tells us that the Dutch do stay abroad,
and our fleet must go out again, or be
ready to do so. Here we got several
things ordered, as we desired, for the
relief of the prisoners, and sick and
wounded men. Here I saw this week s
bill of mortality, wherein, blessed be
God! there is above 1,800 decrease,
being the first considerable decrease we
have had. Most excellent discourse
with Mr. Evelyn touching all manner
of learning, wherein I find him a very
fine gentleman, and particularly of
painting, in which he tells me the beau
tiful Mrs. Middleton is rare, and his
own wife does brave things.

13°

The Plague of London

Oct. 7th.
. . . Talking with him [a constable]
in the highway, come close by the
bearers with a dead corpse of the
plague ; but Lord ! to see what custom
is I am almost come to think nothing
of it. Oct. 1 6th.
I walked to the Tower ; but, Lord !
how empty the streets are, and melan
choly, so many poor sick people in the
streets full of sores ; and so many sad
stories overheard as I walk, everybody
talking of this dead, and that man sick,
and so many in this place, and so many
in that. And they tell me that in
Westminster there is never a physician
and but one apothecary left, all being
dead ; but that there are great hopes of
a great decrease this week : God send it !
Nov. 15th.
The plague, blessed be God, is de
creased 400, making the whole this
week but 1,300 and odd, for which the
Lord be praised ! Nov. 24th.
To London, and there in my way at
my old oyster shop in Gracious Street,
bought two barrels of my fine woman
of the shop, who is alive after all the
plague, which now is the first observa
tion or inquiry we make at London
concerning everybody we know. To
the 'Change, where very busy with
several people, and mightily glad to
see the 'Change so full, and hopes of
another abatement still the next week.
I went home with Sir G. Smith to
dinner, sending for one of my barrels
of oysters, which were good, though
come from Colchester, where the plague
hath been so much. Lord ! to see how
I am treated, that come from so mean
a beginning, is matter of wonder to
me. But it is God's mercy to me, and
his blessing upon my taking pains, and

being punctual in my dealings. Visited
Mr. Evelyn, where most excellent dis
course with him. Nov. 30th.
Great joy we have this week in the
weekly bill, it being come to 544 in all,
and but 333 of the plague ; so that we
are encouraged to get to London soon
as we can. And my father writes as
great news of joy to them, that he saw
York's waggon go again this week to
London, and full of passengers : and
tells me that my aunt Bell hath been
dead of the plague these seven weeks.
Dec. 25th (Christmas day).
To church in the morning, and there
saw a wedding in the church, which I
have not seen many a day ; and the
young people so merry one with
another ! and strange to see what de
light we married people have to see
these poor fools decoyed into our con
dition, every man and woman gazing
and smiling at them. Here I saw again
my beauty Lethulier. Dec. 31st.
Now the plague is abated almost to
nothing, and I intending to get to Lon
don as fast as I can. Jan. 5, 1665-6.
I with my Lord Brouncker and Mrs.
Williams by coach with four horses to
London, to my Lord's house in Covent
Garden. But, Lord ! what staring to
see a nobleman's coach come to town !
And porters everywhere bow to us;
and such begging of beggars ! And
delightful it is to see the town full of
people again ; and shops begin to open,
though in many places seven or eight
together, and more, all shut ; but yet
the town is full, compared to what it
used to be. I mean the City end : for
Covent Garden and Westminster are
yet very empty of people, no court nor
gentry being there. Home, thinking to
get Mrs. Knipp, but could not.

The Fire of London

T3i

Jan. 30th.
Home, finding the town keeping the
day solemnly, it being the day of the
King's murder; and they being at
church, I presently into the church.
This is the first time I have been in the
church since I left London for the
plague, and it frightened me indeed to
go through the church — more than I
thought it could have done — to see so
many graves lie so high upon the
churchyards, where people have been
buried of the plague. I was much
troubled at it, and do not think to go
through it again a good while. Feb. 1 2th.
Comes Mr. Csesar, my boy's lute-
master, whom I have not seen since the
plague before, but he hath been in
Westminster all this while, very well ;
and tells me in the height of it how bold
people there were, to go in sport to
one another's burials ; and in spite, too,
ill people would breathe in the faces,
out of their windows, of well people
going by.

6. Extract from Reresby's Memoirs
(p. 167).
A dreadful plague raged in London
during the summer of 1665, which
swept away 97,309 persons. It was
usual for people to drop down in the
streets as they went about their busi
ness ; and a story is reported for a cer
tain truth, that a bag-piper being ex
cessively overcome with liquor, fell
down in the street and there lay asleep.
In this condition he was taken up and
thrown into a cart betimes the next
morning, and carried away with some
dead bodies. Meanwhile he awoke
from his sleep, it being now about day
break, and rising up began to play a
tune, which so surprized the fellows
that drove the cart, who could see
nothing distinctly, that in a fright they
betook themselves to their heels, and
would have it that they had taken up
the devil in the disguise of a dead
man. But, to resume other things, I mar
ried. . . .

GROUP XVI.
THE FIRE OF LONDON, l666 A. D.

Extracts from Pepys' and Evelyn's
Diaries. Pepys.
Sept. 2nd (Lord's Day).
Some of our maids sitting up late
last night to get things ready against
our feast to-day, Jane called us up
about three in the morning to tell us of
a great fire they saw in the City ; so I
rose and slipped on my nightgown and
went to her window, and thought it to
be on the back side of Marke Lane at
the farthest ; but being unused to such

fires as followed, I thought it far
enough off, and so went to bed again
and to sleep. About seven, rose again
to dress myself, and there looked out at
the window, and saw the fire not so much
as it was, and further off. So to my
closet to set things to rights after yes
terday's cleaning. By-and-by Jane
comes and tells me that she hears that
above three hundred houses have been
burned down to-night by the fire we saw,
and that it is now burning down all Fish
Street, by London Bridge. So I made

132

The Fire of London

myself ready presently, and walked to
the Tower, and there got up upon one
of the high places, Sir J. Robinson's
little son going up with me, and there
I did see the houses at that end of the
bridge all on fire, and an infinite great
fire on this and the other side the end
of the bridge, which, among other
people, did trouble me for poor little
Michell and our Sarah on the bridge.
So down, with my heart full of trouble,
to the Lieutenant of the Tower, who
tells me that it begun this morning in
the King's baker's house in Pudding
Lane, and that it hath burned down St.
Magnus's Church and most part of
Fish Street already. So I down to the
water- side, and there got a boat, and
through bridge, and there saw a la
mentable fire. Poor Michell' s house,
as far as the Old Swan, already burned
that way, and the fire running further,
that, in a very little time, it got as far
as the Steele-yard while I was there.
Everybody endeavouring to remove their
goods, and flinging into the river, or
bringing them into lighters that lay off ;
poor people staying in their houses as
long as till the very fire touched them,
and then running into boats, or clam
bering from one pair of stairs by the
water-side to another. And, amongst
other things, the poor pigeons, I per
ceive, were loth to leave their houses,
but hovered about the windows and
balconies, till they burned their wings
and fell down. Having stayed, and in
an hour's time seen the fire rage every
way, and nobody, to my sight, endeav
ouring to quench it, but to remove their
goods, and leave all to the fire, and
having seen it get as far as the Steele-
yard, and the wind mighty high, and
driving it into the City : and every
thing, after so long a drought, proving
combustible, even the very stones of
churches ; and, among other things,
the poor steeple by which pretty Mrs.

 lives, and whereof my old school
fellow Elborough is parson, taken fire
in the very top, and there burned till it
fell down. I to Whitehall, with a
gentleman with me, who desired to go
off from the Tower to see the fire in
my boat, and there up to the King's
closet in the chapel, where people
came about me, and I did give them an
account dismayed them all, and word
was carried in to the King. So I was
called for, and did tell the King and
Duke of York what I saw, and that,
unless his Majesty did command houses
to be pulled down, nothing could stop
the fire. They seemed much troubled,
and the King commanded me to go to
my Lord Mayor from him, and com
mand him to spare no houses, but to
pull down before the fire every way.
The Duke of York bid me tell him
that if he would have any more sol
diers he shall, and so did my Lord
Arlington afterwards as a great secret.
Here meeting with Captain Cocke, I
in his coach, which he lent me, and
Creed with me to Paul's; and there
walked along Watling Street, as well
as I could, every creature coming away
laden with goods to save, and here and
there sick people carried away in beds.
Extraordinary good goods carried in
carts and on backs. At last met my
Lord Mayor in Canning Street, like a
man spent, with a hankercher about his
neck. To the King's message he cried
like a fainting woman, "Lord! what
can I do ? I am spent : people will not
obey me. I have been pulling down
houses, but the fire overtakes us faster
than we can do it." That he needed
no more soldiers, and that, for himself,
he must go and refresh himself, having
been up all night. So he left me and
I him, and walked home, seeing peo
ple almost distracted, and no manner
of means used to quench the fire. The
houses, too, so very thick thereabouts,

The Fire of London

133

and full of matter for burning, as pitch
and tar in Thames Street; and ware
houses of oil, and' wines, and brandy,
and other things. Here I saw Mr.
Isaac Houblon, the handsome man,
prettily dressed and dirty at his door
at Dowgate, .receiving some of his
brother's things, whose houses were on
fire, and, as he 'says, have been re
moved twice already ; and he, doubts,
as it, soon proved, that there must be in
a little time removed from his house
also, which was a ' sad consideration.
And to see the' churches all filling with
goods by people who themselves should '
have been quietly there at this ' time.
By this time it was about twelve
o'clock, and so home, and there find
my guests, who were Mr. Wood and
his wife Barbary Shelden, and also Mr. .
Moone, she mighty fine, and her hus
band, for aught 1 see, a likely1 man. '
But Mr.- Moone' s design and mine,
which was to look over my closet, and
please him with the sight thereof,
which he hath long desired, was wholly
disappointed ; for we were in great '
trouble and disturbance at this fire, not
knowing what to think of it. How
ever we had an extraordinary good din
ner, and merry as at this time we could
be. While at dinner, Mrs. Batelier
came to inquire after Mr. Woolfe and
Stanes, who, it seems, are related to
them, whose houses in Fish Street are
all burned, and they in a sad condition.
She would not stay in the fright. Soon
as dined, I and Moone away, and
walked through the City, the streets
full of nothing but people, and horses
and carts laden with goods, ready to
run over one another, and removing
goods from one burned house to ' an
other. They now removing out of
Canning Street, which received goods
in the morning, into Lumbard Street,
and further ; and amongst others I now
saw my little goldsmith Stokes receiv

ing some friends goods whose house
itself was burned the day after. We
parted at Paul's, he home and I to
Paul's Wharf, where I had appointed
a boat to attend me, and took in Mr.
Carcasse and his brother, whom I met
in the street, and carried them below
and above bridge too. And again to
see the fire, which was now got further,
both below and above, and no likeli
hood of stopping it. Met with the
King and Duke of York in their barge,
and with 'them to Queenhithe, and
there called Sir Richard Browne to
them. Their order was only to pull
down houses apaces, and so below
bridge at the water-side ; but little was
or could be done, the fire coming upon
them so fast. Good hopes there was
of stopping it at the ' ' Three Cranes ' '
above, and at Botolph's Wharf below
bridge, if care be used ; but the wind
carries it into the City, so as we know
not, by the water-side, what it do there.
River full of lighters and boats, taking
in goods, and good goods swimming in
the water ; and only I observed that
hardly one lighter or boat in three that
had the goods of a house in, but there
was a pair of virginals in it. Having
seen as much as I could now, I away
to Whitehall by appointment, and there
walked to St. James's Park, and there
met my wife and Creed, and Wood
and his wife, and walked to my boat ;
and there upon the water again, and to
the fire up and down, it still increasing
and the wind great. So near the fire
as we could for smoke ; and all over
the Thames, with one's faces in the
wind, you were almost burned with a
shower of fire-drops. This is very
true : so as houses were burned by
these drops and flakes of fire, three or
four, nay, five or six houses, one from
another. When we could endure no
more upon the water, we to a little ale
house on the bankside, over against the

134

The Fire of London

" Three Cranes," and there stayed till
it was dark almost, and saw the fire
grow ; and as it grew darker appeared
more and more ; and in corners and
upon steeples, and between churches
and houses, as far as we could see up
the hill of the City, in a most horrid,
malicious, bloody flame, not like the
fine flame of an ordinary fire. Bar-
bary and her husband away before us.
We stayed till, it being darkish, we
saw the fire as only one entire arch of
fire from this to the other side the
bridge, and in a bow up the hill for an
arch of above a mile long : it made me
weep to see it. The churches, houses,
and all on fire, and flaming at once ;
and a horrid noise the flames made,
and the cracking of houses at their
ruin. So home with a sad heart, and
there find everbody discoursing and
lamenting the fire ; and poor Tom
Hater came with some few of his
goods saved out of his house, which
was burned upon Fish Street Hill. I
invited him to lie at my house, and did
receive his goods, but was deceived in
lying there, the news coming every
moment of the growth of the fire, so as
we were forced to begin to pack up our
own goods, and prepare for their re
moval ; and did by moonshine, it being
brave, dry, and moonshine and warm
weather, carry much of my goods into
the garden ; and Mr. Hater and I did
remove my money and iron chests into
my cellar, as thinking that the safest
place. And got my bags of gold into
my office ready to carry away, and my
chief papers of accounts also there, and
my tallies into a box by themselves. So
great was our fear that Sir W. Batten
hath carts come out of the country to
fetch away his goods this night. We
did put Mr. Hater, poor man, to bed a
little ; but he got but very little rest, so
much noise being in my house taking
down of goods.

Evelyn. Sept. 3rd.
I had public prayers at home. The
fire continuing, after dinner I took
coach with my Wife and Sonn and
went to the Bank side in Southwark,
where we beheld that dismal spectacle,
the whole citty in dreadfull flames neare
the water side ; all the houses from
the Bridge, all Thames streete, and
upwards towards Cheapeside, downe
to the Three Cranes, were now con-
sum'd; and so returned exceeding as
tonished what would become of the
rest. The fire having continued all this
night (if I may call that night which
was light as day for 10 miles round
about, after a dreadfull manner) when
conspiring with a fierce eastern wind
in a very drie season ; I went on foote
to the same place, and saw ye whole
south part on ye citty burning from
Cheapeside to ye Thames, and all along
Cornehill (for it likewise kindled back
against ye wind as well as forward),
Tower streete, Fen-church streete,
Gracious streete, and so along to Barn
ard's Castle, and was now taking hold
of St. Paule's church, to which the
scaffolds contributed exceedingly. The
conflagration was so universal, and the
people so astonish' d, that from the
beginning, I know not by what despond
ency or fate, they hardly stirr'd to
quench it, so that there was nothing
heard or seene but crying out and lam
entation, running about like distracted
creatures without at all attempting to
save even their goods ; such a strange
consternation there was upon them, so
as it burned both in breadth and length,
the churches, public halls, Exchange,
hospitals, monuments, and ornaments,
leaping after a prodigious manner, from
house to house and streete to streete, at
greate distances one from ye other ; for
ye heate with a long set of fa ire and

The Fire of London

135

warm weather had even ignited the aire
and prepar'd the materials to conceive
the fire, which, devour' d after an in
credible manner houses, furniture, and
everything. Here we saw the Thames
cover' d with goods floating, all the
barges and boates laden with what some
had time and courage to save, as, on ye
other, ye carts, etc. carrying out to the
fields, which for many miles were
strewed with moveables of all sorts, and
tents erecting to shelter both people and
what goods they could get away. Oh
the miserable and calamitous spectacle !
such as happly the world had not seene
since the foundation of it, nor be out-
don till the universal conflagration there
of. All the skie was of a fiery aspect,
like the top of a burning oven, and the
light seene above 40 miles round about
for many nights. God grant mine
eyes may never behold the like, who
now saw above 10,000 houses all in
one flame ; the noise and cracking and
thunder of the impetuous flames, ye
shrieking of women and children, the
hurry of people, the fall of towers,
houses, and churches, was like an
hideous storme, and the aire all about
so hot and inflam'd that at the last one
was not able to approach it, so that
they were forc'd to stand still and let
ye flames burn on, which they did for
neere two miles in length and one in
breadth. The clouds also of smoke
were dismall and reach' d upon compu
tation neer 50 miles in length. Thus
I left it this afternoone burning, a re
semblance of Sodom, or the last day.
It forcibly call'd to my mind that pas
sage — non eni?n hie habemus stabilem
civitatem ; the ruines resembling the
picture of Troy. London was, but is
no more ! Thus I returned.
Pepys. Sept. 3rd.
About four o'clock in the morning

my Lady Batten sent me a cart to carry
away all my money, and plate, and best
things, to Sir W. Rider's at Bednall
Green, which I did, riding myself in
my nightgown, in the cart ; and Lord !
to see how the streets and the highways
are crowded with people running and
riding, and getting of carts at any rate
to fetch away things. I find Sir W.
Rider tired with being called up all
night, and receiving things from several
friends. His house full of goods, and
much of Sir W. Batten's and Sir W.
Pen's. I am eased at my heart to have
my treasure so well secured. Then
home, and with much ado to find a
way, nor any sleep all this night to me
nor my poor wife. But then all this
day she and I and all my people labour
ing to get away the rest of our things,
and did get Mr. Tooker to get me a
lighter to take them in, and we did
carry them, myself some, over Tower
Hill, which was by this time full of
people's goods, bringing their goods
thither : and down to the lighter, which
lay at the next quay, above the Tower
Dock. And here was my neighbour's
wife, Mrs.  , with her pretty child,
and some few of her things, which I
did willingly give way to be saved with
mine : but there was no passing with
anything through the postern, the crowd
was so great. The Duke of York came
this day by the office and spoke to us,
and did ride with his guard up and
down the City to keep all quiet, he being
now general, and having the care of
all. This day, Mercer being not at
home, but against her mistress's order
gone to her mother's, and my wife
going thither to speak with W. Hewer,
beat her there, and was angry, and her
mother saying that she was not a 'pren
tice girl, to ask leave every time she
goes abroad, my wife with good reason
was angry; and, when she came home,
did bid her begone again. And so she

136

The Fire of London

went away, which troubled me, but yet
less than it would, because of the con
dition we are in, in fear of coming in a
little time to being less able tp keep one
in her quality. At night, lay down a
little upon a quilt of W. Hewer's in
the office, all my own things being
packed up or gone ; and after, me, my
poor wife did the like, we having fed
upon the remains of yesterday's dinner,
having no fire nor dishes, nor any op
portunity of dressing anything.
Evelyn. Sept. 4th.
The burning still rages ; and it was
now gotten as far as the Inner Temple ;
all Fleet streete, the Old Bailey, Lud
gate Hill, Warwick Lane, Newgate,
Paules chaine, Watling streete, now
flaming, and most of it reduc'd to ashes ;
the stones of Paules flew like granados,
ye mealting lead running downe the
streetes in a streame, and the very pave
ments glowing with fiery rednesse, so
as no horse nor man was able to tread
on them, and the demolition had
stopp'd all the passages, so that no
help could be applied. The eastern
wind still more impetuously driving the
flames forward. Nothing but ye
almighty power of God was able to
stop them, for vaine was ye help of
man. Pepys. Sept. 4th.
Up by break of day, to get away the
remainder of my things, which I did by
a lighter at the Iron gate, and my hands
so full, that it was the afternoon before
we could get them all away. Sir W.
Pen and I to the Tower Street, and
there met the fire burning, three or four
doors beyond Mr. Howell's, whose
goods, poor man, his trays, and dishes,
shovels, &c, were flung all along
Tower Street in the kennels, and
people working wherewith from one

end to the other, the fire coming on iri
that narrow street, on both sides, with
infinite fury. Sir W. Batten, not
knowing how to remove his wine, did
dig a pit in his garden, and laid it in
there ; and I took the opportunity of
laying all the papers of my office that
I could not otherwise dispose of. And
in the evening Sir W. Pen and I did
dig another, and put our wine in it ;
and I my Parmesan cheese, as well as
my wine and some other things. The
Duke of York was at the office this day,
at Sir W. Pen's, but I happened not to
be within. This afternoon, sitting mel
ancholy with Sir W. Pen in our garden,
and thinking of the certain burning of
this office, without extraordinary means,
I did propose for the sending up of all
our workmen from the Woolwich and
Deptford yards, none whereof yet ap
peared, and to write to Sir W. Coven
try to have the Duke of York's permis
sion to pull down houses, rather than
lose this office, which would much
hinder the King's business. So SirW.
Pen went down this night, in order to
the sending them up to-morrow morn
ing ; and I wrote to Sir W. Coventry
about the business, but received no
answer. This night Mrs. Turner, who,
poor woman, was removing her goods
all this day, good goods, into the gar
den, and knows not how to dispose of
them, and her husband supped with my
wife and me at night, in the office, upon
a shoulder of mutton from the cook's
without any napkin, or anything, in a
sad manner, but were merry. Only
now and then, walking into the garden,
saw how horribly the sky looks, all on
a fire in the night, was enough to put
us out of our wits ; and, indeed, it was
extremely dreadful, for it looks just as
if it was at us, and the whole heaven
on fire. I after supper walked in the
dark down Tower Street, and there saw
it all on fire, at the Trinity House on

The Fire of Lond

on

137

that side, and the Dolphin Tavern on
this side, which was very near us, and
the fire with extraordinary vehemence.
Now begins the practice of blowing up
of houses in Tower Street, those next
the Tower, which at first did frighten
people more than anything ; but it
stopped the fire where it was done, it
bringing down the houses to the ground
in the same places they stood, and then
it was easy to quench what little fire
was in it, though it kindled nothing
almost. W. Hewer this day went to
see how his mother did, and comes late
home, telling us how he hath been
forced to remove her to Islington, her
house in Pye Corner being burned ; so
that the fire has got so far that way and
to the Old Bailey, and was running
down to Fleet Street ; and Paul' s is
burned, and all Cheapside. I wrote to
my father this night, but the post-house
being burned, the letter could not go.
Evelyn . Sept. 5th.
It crossed towards Whitehall ; but
oh, the confusion there was then at the
Court ! It pleas' d his Majesty to com
mand me among ye rest to looke after
the quenching of Fetter lane end, to
preserve if possible that part of Hol-
born, whilst the rest of ye gentlemen
tooke their several posts, some at one
part, some at another (for now they
began to bestir themselves, and not till
now, who hitherto had stood as men
intoxicated, with their hands acrosse)
and began to consider that nothing was
likely to put a stop but the blowing up
of so many houses as might make a
wider gap than any had yet been made
by the ordinary method of pulling them
downe with engines ; this some stout
seamen propos'd early enough to have
sav'd neere ye whole citty, but this
some tenacious and avaritious men,
aldermen, etc., would not permitt,

because their houses must have ben
of the first. It was therefore now
commanded to be practic'd, and my
concerne being particularly for the
Hospital of St. Bartholomew neere
Smithfield, where I had many-wounded
and sick men, made me the more
diligent to promote it ; nor was my
care for the Savoy lesse. It now
pleas' d God by abating the wind, and
by the industrie of ye people, when
almost all was lost, infusing a new
spirit into them, that the furie of it
began sensibly to abate about noone, so
as it came no farther than ye Temple
westward, nor than ye entrance of
Smithfield north ; but continu'd all this
day and night so impetuous toward
Cripplegate and the Tower as made
us all despaire ; it also brake out againe
in the Temple, but the courage of the
multitude persisting, and many houses
being blown up, such gaps and desola
tions were soone made, as with the
former three days consumption, the
back fire did not so vehemently urge
upon the rest asformerly. There wasyet
no standing neere the burning and glow
ing mines by neere a furlong's space.
The coale and wood wharfes and
magazines of oyle, rosin, etc., did
infinite mischiefe, so as the invective
which a little before I had dedicated to
hisMa'ty and publish' d, giving warning
what might probably be ¦ the issue of
suffering those shops to be in the Citty,
was look'd on as a prophecy.
The poore inhabitants were dispers'd
about St. George's Fields, and Moore-
fields, as far as Highgate, and severall
miles in circle, some under tents, some
under miserable hutts and hovells,
many without a rag or any necessary
utensills, bed or board, who from deli-
catnesse, riches, and easy accomoda
tions in stately and well furnish' d
houses, were now reduc'd to extreamest
misery and poverty.

i3§

The Fire of London

In this calamitous condition I re
turn' d with a sad heart to my house,
blessing and adoring the distinguishing
mercy of God to me and mine, who in
the midst of all this ruine was like
Lot, in my little Zoar, safe and sound.
Pepys. Sept. 5th.
I lay down in the office again upon
W. Hewer's quilt, being mighty weary,
and sore in my feet with going till I
was hardly able to stand. About two
in the morning my wife calls me up,
and tells me of new cries of fire, it
being come to Barking Church, which
is the bottom of our lane. I up, and
finding it so, resolved presently to take
her away, and did, and took my gold,
which was about £2,350, W. Hewer,
and Jane down by Proundy's boat to
Woolwich; but, Lord! what a sad
sight it was by moonlight, to see the
whole city almost on fire, that you
might see it as plain at Woolwich as if
you were by it. There, when I came,
I find the gates shut, but no guard kept
at all, which troubled me, because of
discourses now begun, that there is a
plot in it, and that the French had done
it. I got the gates open, and to Mr.
Shelden's, where I locked up my gold,
and charged my wife and W. Hewer
never to leave the room without one of
them in it, night or day. So back again,
by the way seeing my goods well in
the lighters at Deptford, and watched
well by people. Home, and whereas I
expected to have seen our house on
fire, it being now about seven o'clock,
it was not. But to the fire, and there
find greater hopes than I expected, for
my confidence of finding our office on
fire was such, that I durst not ask any
body how it was with us, till I came
and saw it was not burned. But, going
to the fire, I find, by the blowing up of
houses and the great help given by the

workmen out of the King's yards, sent
up by Sir W. Pen, there is a good stop
given to it, as well at Marke Lane end
as ours, it having only burned the dial
of Barking Church, and part of the
porch, and was there quenched. I up
to the top of Barking steeple, and
there saw the saddest sight of desola
tion that ever I saw ; everywhere great
fires, oil-cellars, and brimstone, and
other things burning. I became afraid
to stay there long, and therefore down
again as fast as I could, the fire being
spread as far as I could see ; and to Sir
W. Pen's, and there ate a piece of cold
meat, having eaten nothing since Sun
day but the remains of Sunday's dinner.
Here I met with Mr. Young and
Whistler; and, having removed all my
things, and received good hopes that
the fire at our end is stopped, they and
I walked into the town, and find Fen-
church Street, Gracious Street, and
Lumbard Street all in dust. The Ex
change a sad sight, nothing standing
there, of all the statues or pillars, but
Sir Thomas Gresham's picture in the
corner. Into Moorefields, our feet ready
to burn, walking through the town
among the hot coals, and find that full
of people, and poor wretches carrying
their goods there, and everybody keep
ing his goods together by themselves,
and a great blessing it is to them that
it is fair weather for them to keep
abroad night and day ; drunk there,
and paid twopence for a plain penny
loaf. Thence homeward, having
passed through Cheapside and New
gate market, all burned ; and seen
Anthony Joyce's house on fire; and
took up, which I keep by me, a piece
of glass of the Mercer's Chapel in the
street, where much more was, so
melted and buckled with the heat of
the fire like parchment. I also did see
a poor cat taken out of a hole in a
chimney, joining to the wall of the

The Fire of London

J39

Exchange, with the hair all burned off
the body, and yet alive. So home at
night and find there good hopes of sav
ing our office ; but great endeavours of
watching all night, and having men
ready, and so we lodged them in the
office, and had drink and bread and
cheese for them. And I lay down and
slept a good night about midnight,
though, when I rose, I heard that there
had been a great alarm of French and
Dutch being risen, which proved noth
ing. But it is a strange thing to see
how long this time did look since
Sunday, having been always full of
variety of actions, and little sleep, that
it looked like a week or more, and I
had forgot almost the day of the week.
Evelyn. Sept. 6th, Thursday.
I represented to his Ma*y the case of
the French prisoners at war in my cus-
todie, and besought him that there
might be still the same care of watching
at all places contiguous to unseised
houses. It is not indeede imaginable
how extraordinary the vigilance and
activity of the King and the Duke was,
even labouring in person, and being
present to command, order, reward, or
encourage workmen, by which he
shewed his affection to his people and
gained theirs. Having then dispos'd of
some under cure at the Savoy, I return' d
to White-hall, where I din'd at Mr.
Offley's, the groome porter, who was
my relation. Pepys. Sept. 6.
Up about five o'clock, and met Mr.
Gauden at the gate of the office, I in
tending to go out as I used, every now
and then to-day, to see how the fire is,
and call our men to Bishopsgate, where
no fire had yet been near, and there is
now one broken out, which did give

great grounds to people, and to me too,
to think that there is some kind of plot
in this, on which many by this time
have been taken, and it hath been dan
gerous for any stranger to walk in the
streets, but I went with the men, and
we did put it out in a little time, so
that that was well again. It was
pretty to see how hard the women did
work in the kennels, sweeping of water :
but then they would scold for drink,
and be as drunk as devils. I saw good
butts of sugar broke open in the street,
and people give and take handfuls out,
and put into beer and drink it. And
now all being pretty well, I took boat,
and over to Southwarke, and took boat
on the other side the bridge, and so to
Westminster, thinking to shift myself,
being all in dirt from top to bottom,
but could not there find any place to
buy a shirt or a pair of gloves. West
minster Hall being full of people's
goods, those in Westminster having re
moved all their goods, and the Ex
chequer money put into vessels to carry
to Nonsuch, but to the " Swan," and
there was trimmed ; and then to White
hall, but saw nobody, and so home. A
sad sight to see how the river looks : no
houses nor church near it, to the Temple,
where it stopped. At home, did go
with Sir W. Batten, and our neighbour
Knightly, who, with one more, was
the only man of any fashion left in all
the neighbourhood thereabouts, they all
removing their goods, and leaving their
houses to the mercy of the fire. To
Sir R. Ford's, and there dined in an
earthen platter — a fried breast of mut
ton ; a great many of us, but very
merry, and indeed as good a meal,
though as ugly a one as ever I had in
my life. Thence down to Deptford,
and there with great satisfaction landed
all my goods at Sir J. Carterets safe,
and nothing missed I could see or hear.
This being done to my great content, I

140

The Fire of London

home, and to Sir W. Batten's, and
there with Sir R. Ford, Mr. Knightly,
and one Withers, a professed lying
rogue, supped well, and mighty merry,
and our fears over. From them to the
office, and there slept with the office
full of labourers, who talked, and slept,
and walked all night long there. But
strange it is to see Cloth-worker's Hall
on fire these three days and nights in
one body of flame, it being the cellar
full of oil. Sept 7.
Up by five o'clock, and, blessed be
Gud ! find all well, and by water to
Pane's wharf. Walked thence, and
saw all the town burned, and a miser
able sight of Paul's Church, with all
the roofs fallen, and the body of the
choir fallen into St. Fayth's ; Paul's
school also, Ludgate and Fleet Street.
My father's house, and the church, and
a good part of the Temple the like. So
to Creed's lodging, near the new Ex
change, and there find him laid down
upon a bed, the house all unfurnished,
there being fears of the fire's coming
to them. There borrowed a shirt of
him and washed. Evelyn. Sept 7th.
I went this morning on foote from
Whitehall as far as London-Bridge,
thro' the late Fleete-streete, Ludgate
hill, by St. Paules, Cheapeside, Ex
change, Bishopsgate, Aldersgate, and
out to Moorefields, thence thro' Corne-
hill, etc., with extraordinary difficulty,
clambering over heaps of yet smoking
rubbish and frequently mistaking where
I was. The ground under my feete so
hot, that it even burnt the soles of my
shoes. In the mean time his Majesty
¦got to the Tower by water, to demolish
ye houses about the graff, which being
built intirely about it, had they taken

fire and attack 'd the White Tower
where the magazine of powder lay,
would undoubtedly not only have beaten
downe and destroy' d all ye bridge, but
sunke and torne the vessels in ye river,
and render' d ye demolition beyond all
expression for several miles about the
countrey. At my returne I was infinitely con
cern' d to find that goodly Church St.
Paules now a sad ruine, and that beau
tiful portico (for structure comparable
to any in Europe as not long before
repair' d by the late King) now rent in
pieces, flakes of vast stone split asun
der, and nothing remaining intire but
the inscription in the architrave, shew
ing by whom it was built, which had
not one letter of it defac'd. It was
astonishing to see what immense stones
the heate had in a manner calcin'd, so
that all ye ornaments, columns, freezes,
capitals, and projectures of massie Port
land stone flew off, even to ye very
roofe, where a sheet of lead covering a
great space (no less than six akers by
measure) was totally mealted ; the
ruines of the vaulted roofe falling
broke into St. Faith's, which being
fill' d with the magazines of bookes
belonging to ye Stationers, and carried
thither for safety, they were all con-
sum' d, burning for a weeke following.
It is also observable that the lead of ye
altar at ye east end was untouch' d, and
among the divers monuments, the body
of one Bishop remain' d intire. Thus
lay in ashes that most venerable church,
one of the most antient pieces of early
piety in ye Christian world, besides
neere 100 more. The lead, iron
worke, bells, plate, etc. mealted ; the
exquisitely wrought Mercers Chapell,
the sumptuous Exchange, ye august
fabriq of Christ Church, all ye rest of
the Companies Halls, splendid build
ings, arches, enteries, all in dust ; the
fountaines dried up and ruin'd, whilst

The Fire of London

141

the very waters remain' d boiling; the
voragos of subterranean cellars, wells,
and dungeons, formerly warehouses,
still burning in stench and dark clowds
of smoke, so that in five or six miles
traversing about, I did not see one
loade of timber unconsum'd, nor many
stones but what were calcin'd white as
snow. The people who now walk'd
about ye ruines appear' d like men in
some dismal desert, or rather in some
greate citty laid waste by a cruel
enemy ; to which was added the stench
that came from some poore creatures
bodies, beds, and other combustible
goods. Sir Tho. Gresham's statue,
tho' fallen from its nich in the Royal
Exchange, remain' d intire, when all
those of ye Kings since ye Conquest
were broken to pieces ; also the stand
ard in Cornehill, and Q. Elizabeth's
effigies, with some armes on Ludgate,
continued with but little detriment,
whilst the vast yron chaines of the
Citty streetes, hinges, barrs and gates
of prisons were many of them mealted
and reduced to cinders by ye vehement
heate. Nor was I yet able to pass
through any of the narrower streetes,
but kept the widest; the ground and
air, smoake and fiery vapour, continu'd
so intense that my haire was almost
sing'd, and my feete unsufferably sur-
bated. The bye lanes and narrower
streetes were quite fill' d up with rub
bish, nor could one have possibly
knowne where he was, but by ye ruines
of some Church or Hall, that had
some remarkable tower or pinnacle
remaining. I then went towards Is
lington and Highgate, where one might
have seen 200,000 people of all ranks
and degrees dispers'd and lying along
by their heapes of what they could
save from the fire, deploring their
losse, and tho' ready to perish for hun
ger and destitution, yet not asking one
penny for reliefe, which to me appear' d

a stranger sight than any I had yet
beheld. His Majesty and Council
indeede tooke all imaginable care for
their reliefe by proclamation for the
country to come in and refresh them
with provisions. In ye midst of all
this calamity and confusion, there was,
I know not how, an alarme begun that
the French and Dutch, with whom we
were now in hostility, were not onely
landed, but even entering the Citty.
There was in truth some daj's before
great suspicion of those two nations
joyning ; and now, that they had ben
the occasion of firing the towne. This
report did so terrifie, that on a suddaine
there was such an uproare and tumult
that they ran from their goods, and
taking what weapons they could come
at, they could not be stopp'd from fall
ing on some of those nations whom
they casually met, without sense or
reason. The clamor and peril grew so
excessive that it made the whole Court
amaz'd, and they did with infinite
paines and greate difficulty reduce and
appease the people, sending troops of
soldiers and guards to cause them to
retire into ye fields againe, where they
were watch' d all this night. I left
them pretty quiet, and came home suf
ficiently weary and broken. Their
spirits thus a little calmed, and the
affright abated, they now began to
repaire into ye suburbs about the Citty,
where such as had friends or oppor
tunity got shelter for the present, to
which his Ma'y's proclamation also in
vited them.
Still ye plague continuing in our
parish, I could not without danger
adventure to our church.
Reresby.
Many were the conjectures of the
cause of this fire ; some said it was
done by the French, others by the
Papists ; but it was certainly mere acci-

142

The Court of Charles II.

dent. But, however it happened, the
dreadful effects of it were not so strange
as the rebuilding was of this great city,
which, by reason of the King's and Par
liament's care (then sitting), and the

great wealth and opulency of the city
itself, was rebuilt most stately with
brick (the greatest part being before
nothing but lath and lime) in four or
five years' time.

GROUP XVII.

THE COURT OF CHARLES II.

i . Extracts from the Diaries of Pepys
and Evelyn. Pepys. August 31, 166 1.
At Court things are in very ill condi
tion, there being so much emulation,
poverty, and the vices of drinking,
swearing, etc., that I know not what
will be the end of it, but confusion.
And the clergy so high, that all the
people that I meet with do protest
against their practice. In short, I see
no content or satisfaction anywhere in
any one sort of people. The Benevo
lence proves so little, and an occasion
of so much discontent everywhere that
it had better had it never been set up.
I think to subscribe twenty pound.
Evelyn. Jan. 6th, 1661-2.
This evening according to costome,
his Majesty opened the revells of that
night by throwing the dice himself in
the privy chamber, where was a table
set on purpose, and lost his £100.
(The yeare before he won 1500^.)
The ladies also plaied very deepe. I
came away when the Duke of Ormond
had won about 1000/, and left them
still at passage, cards, etc. At other
tables, both there and at ye Groom-
porter' s, observing the wicked folly and
monstrous excesse of passion amongst
some loosers ; sorry am I that such a
wretched costome as play to that excesse
should be countenanc'd in a court
which ought to be an example of virtue
to the rest of the kingdome.

Pepys. May 15, 1662.
To Westminster; and at the Privy
Seal I saw Mr. Coventry's seal for his
being Commissioner with us. At night,
all the bells of the town rung, and bon
fires made for the joy of the Queen's
arrival, who landed at Portsmouth last
night. But I do not see much true joy,
but only an indifferent one, in the
hearts of the people, who are much dis
contented at the pride and luxury of
the Court, and running in debt.
Evelyn. May 30th, 1662.
The Queene arrived with a traine of
Portuguese ladies in their monstrous
fardingals or guard-infantas, their com
plexions olivader and sufficiently un
agreeable. Her Majesty in the same
habit, her foretop long and turn'd aside
very strangely. She was yet of the
handsomest countenance of all ye rest,
and tho' low of stature prettily shaped,
languishing and excellent eyes, her
teeth wronging her mouth by sticking
a little too far out ; for the rest lovely
enough. Pepys. May 31st, 1662.
The Queen is brought a few days
since to Hampton Court : and all people
say of her to be a very fine and hand
some lady, and very discreet ; and that
the King is pleased enough with her :
which, I fear, will put Madam Castle-
maine's nose out of joint. The court is
wholly now at Hampton.

Catharwa JD.G. m.a.(jnj£ Bntmmmlhma&M^diehrik.reoma

M.-L;< 0

fr Holland c

f rx.

The Court of Charles II.

H3

June 30th.
This I take to be as bad a juncture
as ever I observed. The King and his
new Queen minding their pleasures at
Hampton Court. All people discon
tented ; some that the King do not
gratify them enough, and the others,
fanatics of all sorts, that the King do
take away their liberty of conscience ;
and the height of the bishops, who I
fear will ruin all again. . They do much
cry up the manner of Sir H. Vane's
death, and he deserves it. Much
clamour against the chimney money,
and the people say they will not pay it
without force. And in the meantime
like to have war abroad, and Portugal
to assist when we have not money to
pay for any ordinary layings-out at
home.

2. Letter of Thomas Brown to M. de
A. at Paris. (In the Compleat Works
of Mr. Thomas Brown. London, i7IO0
. . . We likewise went to see Hamp
ton-Court, where the Court is at pres
ent, and which is the Fountainbleau of
England. We had the honour of see
ing their Majesties there. The young
Queen is low, and of a brown com
plexion ; and by her face, 'tis easy to
discover that she has a great deal of
goodness and sweetness in her nature.
She has brought some four or five
Portuguese ladies with her, that are the
most deform' d, ill-look' d Devils, that
ever bore the name of women. When
a man sees them among the English
maids of Honour, that attend her, he
would be apt to swear, that Heaven
and Hell were jumbled together and
that angels and furies were lately recon
ciled to one another. But this is not all
the trumpery which the Queen has
brought with her out of her own
country ; for her Majesty has a consort,
as 'tis called, of Citterns, Harps and the

Lord knows what instruments, that
make the most wretched harmony that
ever was heard. Going to hear mass,
we were obliged to suffer this vile per
secution ; and though I have none of
the nicest ears, I never heard such hid
eous musick since I was born. As for
Hampton-Court, 'tis a magnificent pile
of buildings, but, upon my word, does
not come up either to our St. Germains
or Fountainbleau, no more than White
hall is to be put in the same scale with
the Louvre or St. James's House with
Luxemburgh Palace. When I was
shewn that dismal place where the late
King had his head cut off, I could not
forbear to pour out a thousand impre
cations against this rebellious nation ;
and was infinitely pleas' d to see the
City Gates, and other eminent places,
adorned with the heads and limbs of
those execrable regicides. Cromwell's
head, of accursed memory, was, very
much to my satisfaction, placed over
Westminster Hall. I wish that the
publick examples of these criminals
may deter all rebels for the future and
secure the peace and dignity of the
British throne, which has hardly re
cover' d the terrible shock it receiv'd in
the late calamitous disorders. . . .
Our pockets have been most cruelly
emptied since we have been here ; for
shilling is the word upon every occasion.
. . . Methinks they talk of nothing
but shilling, shilling, shilling everlast
ingly. . . .

3. Extract from "The Secret History
of the Reign of Charles II. by a Member
of his Privy Council." (London, 1792.)
. . . Their majesties came together
to Hampton-court on the 29th of May,
the King's birthday, and just two
years after his triumphal entrance into
London. Whatever testimonies of public joy

1 44

The Court of Charles II.

were given on this occasion, yet in a
short time there appeared not that
serenity at court which was expected.
There was a lady of youth and beauty
with whom the King had lived in great
and notorious familiarity [Lady Castel-
maine] . . . When the queen came to
Hampton-court, she brought with her
a formed resolution that she would
never suffer the lady, who was so much
spoken of, to be in her presence. The
King was determined on the very re
verse ; and, in a day or two, led the lady
himself into her Majesty's chamber, and
presented her to the queen, who received
her with the same grace as she had done
the rest, there being many lords and
other ladies at the same time there. But
whether her majesty in the instant knew
who she was, or upon recollection
found it out afterwards, she no sooner
sat down in her chair than her colour
changed, tears gushed out of her eyes,
her nose bled, and she fainted, so that
she was forthwith removed into another
room, and all the company withdrew.
Though these were the natural work
ings of flesh and blood in a young and
jealous wife, the king was so enraged,
that, from that moment he treated the
queen even in public with the utmost
indifference and indignity, till her spirit
being at length broken by such cruelty,
and the firmness of her mind exhausted
in useless struggles, she sunk into the
opposite extreme of condescension and
meanness. She not only admitted the
lady to be of her bedchamber, and used
her kindly in private, but was familiar
and merry with her in public, so that her
majesty forfeited all the compassion
before felt for the barbarity of the af
fronts she underwent; and the king's
indifference was now changed into a
settled contempt. . . . The lady had
apartments assigned her at court ; his
majesty spent most of his time in her
company.

4. Extracts from Evelyn and Pepys.
Evelyn .
August 14th, 1662.
This afternoone the Queene mother
[Henrietta Maria] with the Earle of
St. Albans and many greate ladies and
persons, was pleas' d to honor my poore
villa with her presence, and to accept
of a collation. She was exceedingly
pleas' d and stay'd till very late in the
evening. August 23rd.
I was spectator of the most magnifi
cent triumph that ever floated on the
Thames, considering the innumerable
boates and vessells, dress' d and adorned
with all imaginable pomp, but above
all the thrones, arches, pageants, and
other representations, stately barges of
the Lord Maior and companies, with
various inventions, musiq and peales of
ordnance both from ye vessells and the
shore, going to meete and conduct the
new Queene from Hampton Court to
White-hall, at the first time of her
coming to town. In my opinion it far
exceeded all ye Venetian Bucentoras,
etc., on the Ascension, when they go
to espouse the Adriatic. His Majestie
and the Queene came in an antiq-shap'd
open vessell, cover' d with a state or
canopy of cloth of gold, made in form
of a cupola, supported with high Cor
inthian pillars, wreath' d with flowers,
festoons and garlands. I was in our
new-built vessell, sailing amongst them.
Pepys.
Oct. 19th, 1662 (Lord's-day).
Put on my first new lace-band ; and
so neat it is, that I am resolved my
great expense shall be lace- bands, and
it will set off anything else the more.
I am sorry to hear that the news of the
selling of Dunkirk is taken so gener
ally ill, as I find it is among the mer-

The Court of Charles II.

'45

chants ; and other things, as removal of
officers at Court, good for worse ; and
all things else made much worse in
their report among people than they
are. And this night, I know not upon
what ground, the gates of the City
ordered to be all shut, and double
guards everywhere. Indeed I do find
everybody' s spirit very full of trouble :
and the things of the Court and Coun
cil very ill taken ; so as to be apt to
appear in bad colours, if there should
ever be a beginning of trouble, which
God forbid ! Dec. 25th.
. . . Bishop Morley preached upon
the song of the angels, "Glory to God
on high, on earth, peace and good will
towards men." Methought he made
but a poor sermon, but long, and repre
hending the common jollity of the
Court for the true joy that shall and
ought to be on these days. Particular
ised concerning their excess in plays
and gaming, saying that he whose
office it is to keep the gamesters in
order and within bounds, serves but for
a second rather in a duel, meaning the
groom-porter. Upon which it was
worth observing how far they are come
from taking the reprehensions of a
bishop seriously, that they all laugh in
the chapel when he reflected on their
ill actions and courses. He did much
press us to joy in these public days of
joy, and to hospitality. But one that
stood by whispered in my ear that the
Bishop do not spend one groat to the
poor himself. The sermon done, a
good anthem followed with viols,- and
the King came down to receive the
Sacrament. Feb. 23rd, 1663.
This day I was told that my Lady
Castlemaine hath all the King's Christ
mas presents made him by the peers
given to her, which is a most abomin

able thing ; and that at the great ball
she was much richer in jewels than the
Queen and Duchess put both together.
Nov. 26, 1663.
To Paul's Churchyard, and there
looked upon the second part of " Hudi-
bras," which I buy not, but borrow to
read, to see if it be as good as the first,
which the world cried so mightily up,
though it hath not a good liking in me,
though I had tried but twice or three
times reading to bring myself to think
it witty. To-day, for certain, I am
told how in Holland publicly they have
pictured our King with reproach : one
way is with his pockets turned the
wrong side outward, hanging out
empty ; another with two courtiers
picking of his pockets; and a third,
leading of two ladies, while others
abuse him ; which amounts to great
contempt. 29th (Lord's day).
This morning I put on my best black
cloth suit, trimmed with scarlet ribbon,
very neat, with my cloak lined with
velvet, and a new beaver, which al
together is very noble, with my black
silk knit canons I bought a month ago.
April 18th, 1664.
To Hyde Park, where I have not
been since last year, where I saw the
King with his periwig, but not altered
at all ; and my Lady Castlemaine in a
coach by herself, in yellow satin and a
pinner on, and many brave persons.
And myself, being in a hackney and
full of people, was ashamed to be
seen by the world, many of them
knowing me. May 31st, 1664.
... I was told to-day that, upon
Sunday night last, being the King's
birthday, the King was at my Lady

146

The Court of Charles II.

Castlemaine' s lodgings, over the hither-
gate at Lambert's lodgings, dancing
with fiddlers all night almost ; and all
the world coming by taking notice
of it. October 26th, 1664.
At Woolwich ; I there up to the
King and Duke. Here I stayed above
with them while the ship was launched,
which was done with great success ;
and the King did very much like the
ship, saying, she had the best bow that
ever he saw. But, Lord ! the sorry
talk and discourse among the great
courtiers round about him, without any
reverence in the world, but with so
much disorder. By-and-by the Queen
comes and her maids of honour ; one
whereof, Mrs. Boynton, and the Duch
ess of Buckingham had been very sick
coming by water in the barge, the
water being very rough ; but what
silly sport they made with, them in
very common terms, methought was
very poor, and below what people
think these great people say and do.
April 7, 1665.
Sir Philip Warwick did show me
nakedly the King's condition for money
for the Navy ; and he assures me,
unless the King can get some noblemen
or rich money-gentlemen to lend him
money, or to get the City to do it, it is
impossible to find money ; we having
already, as he says, spent one year's
share of the three-years' tax, which
comes to £2,500,000.

5. Letters from D. de Repas to Sir
Robert Hariey. (In Ms. Commission
Report, 14 Appendix.)
Oxford (?) Oct. 19, 1665.
[Shades of Bocaccio! Three days before,
as we have seen, Pepys wrote in his diary
"I walked to the Tower; but Lord! how
empty the streets are, and melancholy, so

many poor sick people in the streets full of
sores ; and so many sad stories overheard as
I walk, everybody talking of this dead, and
that man sick, and so many in this place, and
so many in that." — Ed.]
. . . For news from court I shall tell
you that one cannot possibly know a
woman from a man, unlesse one hath
the eyes of a linx who can see through
a wall, for by the face and garbe they
are like men. They do not wear any
hood but only men's perwick hatts and
coats. There is no other plague here
but the infection of love ; no other dis
course but of ballets, dance, and fine
clouse ; no other emulation but who
shall look the handsomere, and whose
vermillion and Spanish white is the best ;
none other fight than for ' I am yours.'
In a word there is nothing here but
mirth, and there is a talk that there
shall be a proclamacon made that any
melancoly man or woman coming in
this towne shall be turned out and put
to the pillory, and there to be whep till
he hath learned the way to be mary a
la mode. Oxford, Nov. 24th.
The Duck of Monmouth gave last
night a great balle to the Queene and
to all the ladys of the Court, but very
privattly. . . . Yet I was there from
the beginning to the last amongst all the
nobility and the beautys. I came there
by the wheels of fortune. There was
above 4 or 500 people at the doore, but
none could gett in. They did begin to
dance about eight of the clock att night.
The Queene came half an houre after
and went awaye at eleven. The rest did
dance till between one and two. The
Queen [did] dance all the while she
was there with an extraordinary great
modestye. They did dance altogether
contrey dances, and did jumpe and leape
as those creatures which live upon your
mountaines. They were eleven or
twelve ladys and as many courtiers.

The Court of Charles II.

H7

Mrs. Stuard was there, who was extra
ordinary mary. After dancing she did
sing four or five French songs, as well
as ever I heard any woman sing.

6. Extracts from Pepys and Evelyn.
Pepys. Jan. 29th, 1666.
Mr. Evelyn and I into my Lord
Brouncker's coach, and rode together,
with excellent discourse till we come to
Clapham, talking of the vanity and
vices of the Court, which makes it a
most contemptible thing ; and, indeed,
in all his discourse, I find him a most
worthy person. April 15th, 1666.
(Lord's Day.) Walked into the
Park, to the Queen's Chapel, and there
heard a good deal of their mass, and
some of their music, which is not so
contemptible, I think, as our people
would make it ; it pleasing me very
well, and, indeed, better than the
anthem I heard afterwards at White
hall, at my coming back. I stayed till
the King went down to receive the sac
rament, and stood in his closet with a
great many others, and there saw him
receive it, which I never did see the
manner of before. But I do see very
little difference between the degree of
the ceremonies used by our people in
the administration thereof, and that in
the Roman Church, saving that, me
thought, our chapel was not so fine.
July 7th, 1666.
Creed tells me he finds all things
mighty dull at Court [after the Plague
and Fire], and that they now begin to
lie long in bed ; it being, as we suppose,
not seemly for them to be found playing
and gaming as they used to be ; nor
that their minds are at ease enough to
follow those sports, and yet not know
ing how to employ themselves ; though

there be work enough for their thoughts
and councils and pains, they keep long
in bed. But he thinks with me, that
there is nothing in the world can help
us but the King's personal looking after
his business and his officers, and that
with that we may yet do well, but
otherwise must be undone ; nobody at
this day taking care of anything, nor
hath anybody to call him to account
for it. July 31st.
The Court empty, the King being
gone to Tunbridge, and the Duke of
York a-hunting. I had some discourse
with Povy, who is mightily discon
tented, I find, about his disappointments
at Court ; and says, of all places, if
there be hell, it is here ; no faith, no
truth, no love, nor any agreement
between man and wife, nor friends.
He would have spoke broader, but I
put it off to another time ; and so parted.
Sept. 26, 1666.
. . . He [Mr. Evelyn] observes that
none of the nobility come out of the
country at all, to help the King, or com
fort him, or prevent commotions at this
fire, but do as if the King were nobody,
nor ne'er a priest comes to give the
King and Court good counsel, or to
comfort the poor people that suffer :
but all is dead, nothing of good in any
of their minds. He bemoans it, and
says he fears more ruin hangs over our
heads. Evelyn. Oct. 10, 1666.
This day was order' d a generall fast
thro' the Nation, to humble us on ye
late dreadfull conflagration, added to
the plague and war, the most dismall
judgments that could be inflicted, but
which indeed we highly deserv'd for
our prodigious ingratitude, burning
lusts, dissolute court, profane and
abominable lives.

148

The Court of Charles II.

Pepys. Oct. 15th, 1666.
This day the King begins to put on
his vest, and I did see several persons
of the House of Lords and Commons
too, great courtiers, who are in it ;
being a long cassock close to the body
of black cloth, and pinked with white
silk under it, and a coat over it, and
the legs ruffled with black riband like
a pigeon's leg; and, upon the whole,
I wish the King may keep it, for it is a
very .fine and handsome garment.
Oct. 17th, 1666.
The Court is all full of vests, only
my Lord St. Albans not pinked, but
plain black ; and they say the King
says the pinking upon whites makes
them look too much like magpies, and,
therefore, hath bespoken one of plain
velvet. Evelyn. Oct. 1 8th, 1666.
To Court. It being ye first time his
Majesty put himself solemnly into the
Eastern fashion of vest, changeing
doublet, stiff collar, bands and cloake,
into a comely dress, after ye Persian
mode, with girdle or straps, and shoe
strings or garters into bouckles, of
which some were set with precious
stones, resolving never to alter it, and
to leave the French mode, which had
had hitherto obtain' d to our great
expence and reproch. Upon which
divers courtiers and gentlemen gave his
Majesty gold by way of wager that he
would not persist in this resolution.
[As he did not. — Ed. J
Jan. 18th, 1666-7.
I was present at a magnificent ball
or masque in the theater at court, where
their majesties and all the greate lords
and ladies daunced, infinitely gallant,
the men in their richly embroidered
most becoming vests.

April 23rd, 1667.
... At ye banquet (of the Knights
of the Garter) came in the Queene and
stood by the King's left hand, but did
not sit. Then was the banquetting
stuff flung about the room profusely.
... I now staied no longer than this
sport began for feare of disorder. The
cheere was extraordinary, each knight
having 40 dishes to his messe, piled up
5 or 6 high. The roome was hung
with ye richest tapessry. June 1 6th, 1670.
I went with some friends to ye Bear
Garden, where was cock-fighting, dog-
fighting, beare and bull-baiting, it
being a famous day for all .these butch
erly sports, or rather barbarous cruel
ties. The bulls did exceeding well,
but the Irish wolfe-dog exceeded, which
was a tall greyhound, a stately creature
indeede, who beat a cruell mastiff.
One of the bulls toss'd a dog full into
a lady's lap, as she sate in one of ye
boxes at a considerable height from
the arena. Two poore dogs were
kill' d, and so all ended with the ape
on horseback, and I most heartily
weary of the rude and dirty pastime,
which I had not seene I think, in twenty
yeares before.

7. Extracts from the Rutland Cor
respondence. (In 1 2th Report of MS.
Commission. Appendix, Part V.)
Lady Mary Bertie to her niece,
Katherine Noel, at Exton.
November, 1670.
I received yours, but haveing not yett
been at Court cannott give you a punc-
tuall account of the fashions, but upon
the Queene' s Birthday most wore em-
braudered bodys with plaine black skirts
of Morella Mohair and Prunella and
such stuffs, and the under pettycoatt

The Court of Charles II.

149

"very richly laced with two or three
sorts of lace, so that 50 or 60 pounds
but an ordinary price for a petty-
cote. . . . Dec. 10, Westminster.
I received yours and am very glad to
heare you are so merry with the musicke
and danceing. I was at Courte the
other night where I met withe the
Dutchesse of Buckingham, who was
very kind to mee and presented mee to
kisse the Queene' s hand. They weare
their gownes as I writ to you before,
but I thinke the fashions of their rib-
bans and haire alters according to every
bodys fancy, for some ware all small
ribban, others brode ribbans, others
broad and small mixed and all frowzes
of their owen haire. . . . Jan. 2nd.
. . . There is letely come out a new
play writ by Mr. Dreyden who made
the Indian Emperor. It is caled the
Conquest of Grenada. My brother
Norreys tooke a box and carryed my
Lady Rochester and his mistresse and
all us to. . . . Feb. 23rd.
... I -was on Munday at Court to
see the grane ballett danced. It was so
hard to get room that wee were forced
to goe by four a clocke, though it did
not begin till nine or ten. They were
very richly dressed and danced very
finely, and shifted their clothes three
times. There was also fine musickes
and excelent sing some new song made
purpose for it. After the ballet was
over, several others danced, as the King,
and Duke of Yorke, and Duke of
Somerset, and Duke of Buckingham.
And the Dutchesse of Cleveland was
very fine in a riche petticoat and halfe
shirte, and a short man's coat very
richly laced, a perwig cravatt and a
hat : her hat and maske was very rich."

Sir Ed. Hariey to Lady Hariey.
(In MS. Commission, 14th Report,
Appendix.) March 11, 1670-1.
. . . Sin every day grows high and
impudent ; as we have seen that God
would not be worked by hypocrits, as
certaynly he will not be defyed by pro
fane atheists. The Lord, I trust, will
graciously provide a hiding place for
his poor children.

8. Extracts from Evelyn. Oct. 21st, 1671.
Quitting Euston, I lodged this night
at New- market, where I found ye jolly
blades raceing, dauncing, feasting, and
revelling, more resembling a luxurious
and abandon' d rout, than a Christian
Court. The Duke of Buckingham was
now in mighty favour, and had with him
that impudent woman the Countess of
Shrewsbury, with his band of fidlers,
etc. . . . March 12th, 167 1-2.
The Treasurer of the Household, Sir
Tho. Clifford, hinted to me as a confi
dent, that his Majesty would shut up
the Exchequer, and accordingly his
Majesty made use of infinite treasure
there, to prepare for an intended rup
ture [with the Dutch] ; but, says he, it
will soone be open again and every
body satisfied ; for this bold man, who
had ben the sole adviser of the King to
invade that sacred stock . . . was so
over-confident of the successe of this
unworthy designe against the Smyrna
merchants, as to put his Majesty on an
action which not onely lost the hearts
of his subjects, and ruined many wid-
dows and orphans whose stocks were
lent him, but the reputation of his Ex
chequer forever, it being before in such
credit, that he might have commanded
halfe the wealth of the nation.

15°

The Court of Charles II.

The credit of this bank being thus
broken did exceedingly discontent the
people, and never did his Majesty's
affairs prosper to any purpose after it,
for as it did not supply the expence of
the meditated war, so it mealted away,
I know not how. To this succeeded
the King's declaration for an universal
tolleration ; Papists and swarms of
sectaries now boldly shewing them
selves in their public meetings. Oct. 8th, 1672.
I tooke leave of my Lady Sunder
land. . . . She made me stay dinner
at Leicester House and afterwards sent
for Richardson the famous fire-eater.
He devour' d brimston on glowing
coales before us, chewing and swal
lowing them ; he mealted a beere-glass
and eate it quite up ; then taking a live
coale on his tongue, he put on it a raw
oyster, the coal was blown on with
bellows till it flam'd and sparkl'd in
his mouth, and so remain' d till the
oyster gaped and was quite boil'd;
then he mealted pitch and wax with
sulphur, which he drank downe as it
flamed ; I saw it flaming in his mouth
a good while. . . .
March 29th, 1673.
. . . At the sermon coram rege,
preached by Dr. Sparrow. ... I
staied to see whether according to cos
tome the Duke of York received the
communion with the King ; but he did
not to the amazement of everybody.
This being the second yeare he had
forborne and put it off, and within a
day of the Parliament sitting, who had
lately made so severe an act against ye
increase of Poperie, gave exceeding
grief and scandal to the whole nation,
that the heyre of it, and ye son of a
martyr for ye Protestant religion,
should apostatize. What the conse
quence of this will be, God onely
knows, and wise men dread.

Nov. 5, 1673.
This night the youths of the Citty
burnt the Pope in effigie, after they had
made procession with it in great tri
umph, they being displeas'd at the
Duke for altering his religion and
marrying an Italian lady [Mary of
Modena]. Nov. 15th, 1673.
. . . Being her Majesty's birthday,
the Court was exceeding splendid in
clothes and jewels, to the height of
excesse.

9. Letters of Lady Chaworth to her
brother, Lord Roos, at Belvoir Castle.
(In 1 2th Report of MS. Commission,
5th Appendix, p. 31.) Nov. 2nd, 1676.
. . . Mighty bravery in clothes pre
paring for the Queen's birthday, es
pecially Mis Phraser, whose gowne is
ermine upon velvet imbroidered with
gold and lined with cloth of gold ;
'twill come to 300/., and frights Sir
Carr Scroope, who is much in love
with her, from marying her, saying his
estate will scarce maintaine her in
clothes. Nov. 9.
Mr. Bernard Howard made one of
the greatest and most absolute French
feast that ever I saw last Tuesday att
Somerset House, and but eleven of us
att it ; and the clothes last night at the
Queene' s birth-night ball was infinite
rich, espeicially Mis Phraser, who put
downe all for a gowne black velvet
imbroydered with all sorts of slips
inbost worke of gold and silver and
peticote one broad ermine and gold
lace all over, yet I doe not approve the
fancy of either, though they say [it] cost
800/. ; but her face and shape must be
approved by everybody : the men also
very rich.

The Court of Charles II.

151

Nov. 23rd.
For niewse, the King sup't two
nights agoe with Mr. Griffin, etc., and
all the jockeys being invited to meet
his Majestie : and there they have made
four matches to be run at Newmarket.
. . . M!s Jennings and her daughter
[later duchess of Marlborough. — Ed.],
maid of honour to the Dutchesse, have
had so great a falling out that they
fought ; the young one complained to
the Duchess that if her mother was not
put out of St. James's, where she had
lodgings to sanctuary her from debt,
she would run away, so Sir Alleyn
Epsley was sent to bid the mother
remoove, who answered with all her
heart she should never dispute the
Duke and Dutchesses commands, but
with the grace of God she would take
her daughter away with her [intimating
in very coarse terms what sort of a
place she considered the court]. So,
rather than part with her, the mother
must stay and all breaches are made
up againe. Dec. 12.
. . . Here is no niewse but balls and
plays and the King having a sledge after
the Muscovite fashion that with a fine
accoustred horse pulls him round his
fine canalls of St. James Parke. Dec. 25.
Lady Sussex is not yet gone. . . .
She and Madam Mazarin have privately
learnt to fence, and went down into St.
James Parke the other day with drawne
swords under theire night gownes, which
they drew out and made severall fine
passes with, to the admiration of severall
men that was lookers on in the Parke.
. . . The Dutchesse [of Yorke] is much
delighted with making and throwing of
snow-balls and pelted the Duke soundly
with one the other day and ran away
quick into her closet and he after her,
but she durst not open the doore. She

hath also great pleasure in one of those
sledges which they call Trainias, and
is pulled up and downe the ponds in
them every day, as also the King,
which are counted dangerous things,
and none can drive the horse which
draws them about but the Duke of
Monmouth, Mr. Griffin, and Mr. Godol-
phin, and a fourth whose name I have
forgot. . . . Mis Sarah Jennings hath
got the better of her mother who is
commanded to leave the Court and her
daughter in itt, notwithstanding the
mother's petition that she might have
her girle with her, the girle saying she
is a mad woman. . . .
Jan. 19, 1676-7.
Theire is two niewe plays which are
much contended — the Siege of Jerusa
lem by the Emperour Vespasian, and
his son Titus's love with Berenice ; the
epilogue is much praysed that tells tis
not like to please this age to bring them
a story of Jerusalem who would more
delight in one of Sodome and a vertu-
ous woman which in this age they
promise shan't be seene but on the stage.
Edward Smith to Lord Roos.
Feb. 8, 1676-7.
. . . His Majesty, whom God pre
serve, went on Munday last to Windsor
to see his workemen, and with a design
to stay all the weeke there, but on
Wednesday night some of his courtiers
fell to their cups and drunke away all
reason, at last they began to despise art
to, and brake into Prince Rupert's
Laboratory and dashed his stills and
other chymicall instruments in pieces.
His Majesty went to bed about 12
aclock, but about 2 or 3 aclock one of
Henry Killigrew's men was stabbed in
the company in the next chamber to the
King. They say he murdered himselfe
amongst them because of some distast
betwixt his master and him : how it

152

The Court of Charles II.

was God knowes : but the Duke ran
speedily to His Majesty's bed and drew
the curtaine, and said " Sir, will you
lye in bed till you have your throat cut ? ' '
whereupon His Majesty got up at three
aclock in the night and came immedi
ately away to Whitehall.
Lady Chaworth to Lord Roos.
April ii, 1678.
. . . The quarrells of some ladies
hath made great talke in the towne and
much laughing. Mis Baker first began
with a bitter letter to my Lady Angle
sey, yet concluded, " a lover of her
soule." This highly incenced the lady,
and M1S Baker not forbearing her house
upon itt, she threw some things att her
to have her goe out of the rome. The
other two ladies is Lady Mohun and
Mis Browne, the deare friends, but it is
too long for any letter : but in short they
were att cards att one Mis Roberts's
lodgings, and one Mis Love being land
lady of the house an exchange woman,
Lady Mohun' s pages spit in that Mis
Love's daughter's face, and so the
mother would have turned him out of
the house, but he ran up to his lady, and
so the exchange woman followed him,
and the quarrell began between her and
the lady with ill-words and candlesticks ;
and so the lady petitioned the House
upon breach of privilege, and her father
brought itt' in, but Mis Browne, Mis
Roberts and her husband came in
against Lady Mohun, and made her
the provoker, so the House of Lords
threw itt out, and left them to the law.
. . . And it entertained the King
mightily who was att the House, and
desired that he might be judge whether
the candlesticke had hurt my Lady
Mohun' s knee. I wish it may be
some entertainment to your melancholy
spleen, which I suspect the chiefe fo-
menter of all your diseases.

Extracts fro7n Evelyn.
July 15th, 1683.
The public was now in greate con
sternation on the late plot and conspir
acy ; his Majestie very melancholy, and
not stirring without double guards ; all
the avenues and private dores about
White-hall and the Park shut up, few
admitted to walke in it. The Papists in
the meane time very jocund. . . .
The Turks were likewise in hostility
against the German Emperor, almost
masters of the Upper Hungary, and
drawing towards Vienna. On the
other side the French King (who 'tis
believed brought in the infidels) dis
turbing his Spanish and Dutch neigh
bors, having swallow' d up almost all
Flanders, pursuing his ambition of a
fifth universal monarch ; and all this
blood and disorder in Christendom had
evidently its rise from our defections at
home, in a wanton peace, minding
nothing but luxurie, ambition, and to
procure money for our vices. To this
add our irreligion and atheism, greate
ingratitude, and selfe interest; the
apostacy of some, and the suffering the
French to grow so greate, and the Dutch
so weake. In a word, we were wanton,
madd, and surfeiting with prosperity ;
every moment unsettling the old founda
tions, and never constant to anything.
The Lord in mercy avert the sad omen,
and that we do not provoke him till he
beare it no longer ! July 25th, 1683.
I againe saw Prince George of Den
mark : he had the Danish countenance,
blonde, of few words, spake French
but ill, seem'd somewhat heavy, but
reported to be valiant, and indeede he
had bravely rescu'd and brought off his
brother the King of Denmark in a
battaile against the Swedes, when both
these Kings were engag'd very smartly.

The Court of Charles II.

«53

28th.
He was married to the Lady Anne at
White-hall. Her court and household
to be modell' d as the Duke' s, her father,
had been and they to continue in
England. Note of Lord Dartmouth to a Pas
sage in Burnet.
Prince George of Denmark was the
most indolent of all mankind, had given
great proofs of bravery in his own
country, where he was much beloved.
King Charles II told my father he had
tried him, drunk and sober, but " God's
fish," there was nothing in him. His
behaviour at the revolution [1688]
shewed he could be made a tool of
upon occasion ; but King William
treated him with the utmost contempt.
When Queen Anne came to the throne,
she shewed him little respect, but
expected everybody else should give
him more than was his due : but it
was soon found out that his interpos
ing was a prejudice in obtaining
favours at court. All foreign princes
had him in very low esteem. . . .
After thirty years living in England he
died of eating and drinking, without
any man's thinking himself obliged to
him : but I have been told that he would
sometimes do ill offices, though he
never did a good one.

11. Extract from Evelyn. Feb. 4th, 1685.
I went to London, hearing his Maj
esty had been the Monday before (Feb.
2.) surpriz'd in his bed-chamber with an
apoplectic fit, so that if . . . . Dr. King
. . . had not been present to let him blood
. . . his Majesty had certainly died
that moment. . . . This rescued his
Majesty for the instant, but it was only
a short reprieve. He still complained
. . . with sometimes epileptic symp
toms . . . for which he was cupp'd, let

bloud in both jugulars, had both vomit
and purges . . . which . . . relieved
him. . . . They prescribed the famous
Jesuits powder ; but it made him
worse, and some very able doctors who
were present did not think it a fever,
but the effect of his bleeding and other
sharp operations us'd by them about
his head. . . . Thursday night . . .
they drew 12 ounces more of blood
from him.
Extracts from FountainhalV s
Memoirs.
(Edinborough, 1837.) 1685.
. . . His Quean, throw sickenesse
not being able to come to him, sent to
ask his pardon and how he was ; he
answered, "ah, poor Lady, many a
tyme have I wronged her, but shee
never did me wrong."

Letter of the French Envoy Bar-
illon to Louis XIV. (In Dalrymple's
Memoirs. London 1790. Vol. I. Ap
pendix, p. 152.) Feb. 18, 1685.
... I was five hours in the King's
anti-chamber. The Duke of York
made me come into the bed-chamber
several times, and spoke to me of what
was passing without doors, and of the
assurances given him from every quar
ter that all was very quiet in the town,
and that he should be proclaimed King
the moment the King his brother was
dead. I went out for some time to go
to the Duchess of Portsmouth's apart
ment. I found her overwhelmed with
grief. . . . She said to me, "Monsieur
the ambassador, I am going to tell you
the greatest secret in the world, and my
head would be in danger if it was
known. The King of England at the
bottom of his heart is a Catholic ; but
he is surrounded with Protestant bishops,
and nobody tells him his condition, or
speaks to him of God : I can not with
decency enter the room, besides that the

154

The Court of Charles II.

Queen is almost constantly there ; the
Duke of York thinks of his own affairs.
. . . Go and tell him I have conjured
you to warn him to think of what can
be done to save the King's soul. He
commands the room and can turn out
whom he will. . . .
I returned instantly to find the Duke
of York . . . and told him what the
Duchess of Portsmouth said to me. He
recovered himself as from a deep leth
argy, and said, " You are in the right :
there is no time to lose. I will hazard
all rather than not do my duty on this
occasion." . . .
We thought of various expedients.
The Duke of York proposed that I
should ask leave to speak to the King
his brother, to tell him something in
secret from your Majesty, and that
everybody should go out. I offered to
do so ; but represented to him, that be
sides the great rumour it would make,
there was no likelihood of my being
allowed to remain in private with the
King of England and himself long
enough for what we had to do. At
last . . . without any further pre
caution, the Duke of York stooped
down to the King his brother's ear,
after having ordered that no one should
approach. I was in the room, and
more than 20 persons at the door,
which was open. What the Duke of
York said was not heard ; but the King
of England said from time to time very
loud, Tes, with all my heart. He
sometimes made the Duke of York
repeat what he said, because he did not
easily hear him. This lasted near a
quarter of an hour. The Duke of York
again went out as if he had gone to
the Queen, and said to me, " The King
has consented that I should bring a
priest to him ; but I dare not bring any
of the Duchess's: They are too well
known: Send and find one quickly."
. . . The Earl of Castlemethor went

where the Queen's priests were, and
found amongst them one Hudelston a
Scotchman, who saved the King of
England after the battle of Worcester,
and who by act of Parliament had been
excepted from all the laws made against
the catholics and against the priests.
They put a wig and gown on him to
disguise him, and the Earl of Castle
methor conducted him to the door of an
apartment that joined by a small step to
the King's chamber. The Duke of
York . . . sent Chiffins to receive and
bring in Mr. Hudelston : Soon after,
he said aloud, "The King wills that
everybody should retire, except the
Earles of Bath and Feversham : " the
first was lord of the bed-chamber, and
the other was in waiting. The physi
cians went into a closet, the door of
which was immediately shut, and
Chiffins brought Mr. Hudelston in.
The Duke of York, in presenting him,
said, " Sire, here is a man who saved
your life, and is now come to save your
soul." The King answered, "He is
welcome." He afterwards confessed
himself with great sentiments of devo
tion and repentance. . . . He then
received absolution, the communion,
and even the extreme unction : All this
lasted about three quarters of an hour.
In the anti-chamber, every one looked
at another ; but nobody said anything
but by their eyes and in whispers. The
presence of Lord Bath and Lord Fever-
sham, who are Protestants, has satisfied
the bishops a little; but the Queen's
women, and the other priests, saw so
much going and coming, that I do not
think the secret can be long kept. . . .
Extract from Burnet.
. . . The King suffered much in
wardly, and said, he was burnt up
within ; of which he complained often,
but with great decency. He said once,
he hoped he should climb up to heaven's.

The Court of Charles II.

155

gates, which was the only word savour
ing of religion . that he was heard to
speak. He gathered all his strength to
speak his last words to the Duke. . . .
He recommended lady Portsmouth over
and over again to him . . . and be
sought the duke, in as melting words
as he could fetch out, to be very kind
to her and to her son. He recom
mended his other children to him : and
concluded, Let not poor Nelly starve;
that was Mrs. Gwynn. But he said
nothing of the queen.
. . . He continued in the agony till
Friday at eleven o'clock, being the
sixth of February 1684-5 > an<^ tnen
died in the 54th year of his age. . . .
There were many very apparent suspi
cions of his being poisoned. . . . Both
Lower and Needham two famous physi
cians, told me, they plainly discerned
two or three blue spots on the outside
of the stomach. Needham called twice
to have it opened : but the surgeons
seemed not to hear him. . . . They
were diverted to look to somewhat else :
and when they returned to look upon
the stomach, it was carried away: so
that it was never viewed. . . . The
King's body was indecently neglected.
Some parts of his inwards, and some
pieces of the fat, were left in the water
in which they were washed : all which
were so carelessly looked after, that the
water being poured out at a scullery
hole that went to a drain, in the mouth
of which a grate lay, these were seen
lying on the grate many days after. His
funeral was very mean, He did not
lie in state : no mournings were given :
and the expence of it was not equal to
what an ordinary nobleman's funeral
will rise to. . . .
Extract from Fountainhall' s
Memoirs.
It was alledged to have been the
King's own desire to be so interred :

others said, it was unfit to make a pub
lic solemnity, unlesse it had exceeded
in splendor Cromwell's funeral, which
would have been very expensive.
These restlesse and lying phanatiques
whispered, they did not love his sudden
buriall, as if it had looked like foul
PlaY- 12. Extracts from Evelyn.
. . . He was a Prince of many vir
tues, and many great imperfections ;
debonaire, easy of accesse, not bloudy
nor cruel ; his countenance fierce, his
voice greate, proper of person, every
motion became him ; a lover of the
sea, and skilfull in shipping ; not affect
ing other studies, yet he had a labora
tory, and knew of many empyrical
medicines, and the easier mechanical
mathematics; he lov'd planting and
building, and brought in a politer way
of living, which pass'd to luxury and
intolerable expence. He had a partic
ular talent in telling a story, and face
tious passages, of which he had innu
merable ; this made some buffoons and
vitious wretches too presumptuous and
familiar, not worthy the favor they
abus'd. . . . The history of his reign
will certainely be the most wonderfull
for the variety of matter and accidents,
above any extant in former ages : the
sad tragical death of his father, his
banishment and hardships, his miracu
lous restauration, conspiracies against
him, parliaments, wars, plagues, fires,
comets, revolutions abroad happening
in his time, with a thousand other par
ticulars. ... I can never forget the
inexpressible luxury and prophaneness,
gaming and all dissoluteness, and as it
were total forgetfullness of God (it
being Sunday evening) which this day
se'ennight I was witnesse of, the King
sitting and toying with. . . . Ports
mouth, Cleaveland, and Mazarine, etc.,
a French boy singing love-songs, in

iS6

The Court of Charles II.

that glorious gallery, whilst about 20
of the greate courtiers and other disso
lute persons were at bassett round a
large table, a bank of at least 2000 in
gold before them, upon which two
gentlemen who were with me made re
flexions with astonishment. Six days
after was all in the dust. It was en-
joyned that those who put on mourn
ing should wear it as for a father, in
ye most solemn manner.
Extracts from Fountainhall.
He was certainly a prince indued
with many Royall qualities, and of
whom the Divine providence had taken
a speciall care by preserving him after
Worcester fight in the oak, and bring
ing him miraculously home without a
drop of blood shed ; so that the Em
peror of the Turks said, if he were to
change his religion, he would choise to
worship before any, the King of Brit-
tain's God, who had done such wonder-
full things for him. . . . He had a
naturali mildnesse and command over
his anger, which never transported him
beyond ane innocent puff and spitting,
and was soon over, and yet commanded
more deference from his peeple then if
he had expressed it more severely, so
great respect had all to him. . . .
His firmenesse in religion was evi
dent ( !) ; for in his banishment he had
great invitations and offers of help to
restore him to his crown if he would
turne Papist, but he alwayes refused it.

13. Extracts from Welwood's Diary.
(Sixth Edition. London, 1718. Page
128.) . . . Thus reigned, and thus dy'd
King Charles II., a Prince endowed
with all the qualities that might justly
have rendered him the delight of
mankind and entitled him to the char
acter of one of the greatest genius's that
ever sat upon a throne, if he had not

sullied those excellent parts with the
soft pleasures of ease. . . . His per
son was tall and well made, his consti
tution was vigorous and healthy ; and
it is hard to determine, whether he took
more pains to preserve it by diet and
exercise, or to impair it by excess in his
pleasures. . . . His face was com
posed of harsh features, difficult to be
trac'd with the pencil, yet in the main
it was agreeable ; and he had a noble,
majestic mien. In contradiction to all
the received rules of physiognomy, he
was merciful, good natured, and in the
last 24 years of his life, fortunate, if
to succeed in most of his designs may
be called so. . . . He had read but
little, yet had a good taste of learn
ing, and would reason nicely upon
most sciences. The mechanicks were
one of his peculiar talents, especially
the art of building and working of
ships ; which nobody understood better,
nor, if he had liv'd, would have
carried it farther. He had a strong,
laconick way of expression, and a gen
teel, easy and polite way of writing :
and when he had a mind to lay aside
the King, which he often did in select
companies of his own, there were a
thousand irresistible charms in his con
versation. . . . No age produced a
greater master in the art of dissimu
lation, and yet no man was less upon
his guard, or sooner deceived in the
sincerity of others. . . . He . . . had
acquired so great an ascendant over the
affections of his people, in spite of all
the unhappy measures he had taken,
that it may in some sense be said, he
died opportunely for England ; since if
he had liv'd, it's probable we might in
compliance with him have compli
mented ourselves out of all the remains
of our liberty, if he had had but a
mind to be master of them; which it's
but charity to believe he had not, at
least immediately before his death.

The Court of Charles II.

157

There is one thing more that may
help to make up the character of this
prince, that in the lines and shape of
his face (all but the teeth) he had a
great resemblance of the ancient bus-
toes and statues we have of the
Emperor Tiberius. . . .
Extracts from Evelyn.
Oct. 2nd, 1685.
Having a letter sent me by Mr.
Pepys with this expression at the foote
of it, "I have something to shew you
that I may not have another time,"
and that I would not fail to dine with
him, I accordingly went. After din
ner he . . . told us that being lately
alone with his Majesty [Jas. II.] . . .
[the] familiar discourse encouraged
Mr. Pepys to beg of his Majesty, if
he might ask it without offence . . .
whether his late Majesty had been
reconcil'd to ye church of Rome. . . .
The King ingenuously told him that he
both was and died a Roman Catholic :
... he bid him follow him into his
closet, where opening a cabinet, he
shew'd him two papers, containing
about a quarter of a sheete, on both
sides written, in the late King's owne
hand, severall arguments opposite to
the doctrine of the Church of England,
charging her with heresy, novelty and
ye fanaticism of other Protestants, the
chief whereof was, I remember, our
refusing to acknowledge the primacy
and infallibility of the Church of Rome
. . . how unlikely our Saviour would
leave his church without a visible head
and guide to resort to, during his

absence. . . . When his Majesty had
shewn him these originals, he was
pleas' d to lend him the copies of these
two papers, attested at the bottome in 4
or 5 lines, under his bwne hand.
These were the papers I saw and read.
This nice and curious passage I thought
fit to set downe. ... I was heartily
sorry to see all this, tho' it was no other
than was to be suspected. . . . The
emissaries and instruments of the Church
of Rome will never rest till they have
crush' d the Church of England. ... I
do exceedingly prefer his [present]
Majesty's free and ingenuous profes
sion of what his own religion is. . . .
May 26th, 1703.
This day died Mr. Sam. Pepys, a
very worthy, industrious and curious
person. . . . He lived at Clapham
with his partner Mr. Hewer, formerly
his clerk, in a very noble house and
sweete place, where he enjoyed the
fruite of his labours in greate pros
perity. He was universally belov'd,
hospitable, generous, learned in many
things, skill' d in music, a very greate
cherisher of learned men of whom
he had the conversation. His library
and collection of other curiosities
were of the most considerable, the
models of ships especially. . . . Mr.
Pepys had been for neere 40 years so
much my particular friend, that Mr.
Jackson sent me compleat mourning,
desiring me to be one to hold up the
pall at his magnificent obsequies, but
my indisposition hindered me from
doing him this last office.

158 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth

GROUP XVIII.
THE REBELLION OF ARGYLE AND MONMOUTH, 1685 A.D.

1. Letters of the Duke of York
(later James II.) to his son-in-law
William of Orange. (In Hist. MSS.
Commission, Report 15, Appendix 5,
p. 129.) May 1 1, 1679.
. . . All things tend towards the
lessning of the King's authority, and
the new moddell things are put into
is the very same that it was in the tyme
of the Commonwealth. . . .
May 14, Brussels.
. . . You see how violently my
enemys attaque me, and that Wednes
day last was the day that both Houses
were to take into consideration my
affairs. What the issue on't will be
I expect to here this night, or to-mor
row, and can not now but looke on
the monarky ist self (sic) in great
danger as well as his Majesty's person,
and that not from Papists, but from
the Commonwealth party, and some
of those who were latly brought into
the Councell that gouverne the Duke
of Monmouth, and who make a prop
erty of him to ruine our family, and
things go on so fast and so violently,
and there are so very few left about
his Majesty that have either will or
courage to give good advice to him,
that I tremble to think what will
happen, for if his Majesty and the
House of Lords stick to me, then one
may expect great disorders — nay, a
rebellion. If his Majesty and thay
shall consent to what the Commons
may do against me, I shall then look
on his Majesty as lesse then a Duke of
Venice, and the monarky and our
family absolutely ruin'd and given
up. . . .

May 17.
... I am informed by my letters
that nothing will satisfy the Presbite-
rians, but the destroying of the mon
arky, and the setting up of a Common
wealth, to which purpose they flatter
the Duke of Monmouth, as the only
way to bring to passe their ends, and
to destroy our family ; and he is so
indiscret as to give in to it, and to
thinke he can find his account in it ;
and as I told you in my last I appre
hend very much for his Majesty's per-
sone, from those kind of people, and
I can hardly see how he can almost
gett out of the ill condition he is in. . . .
May 29, Brussels.
. . . You know before this what
past on Sonday was sennight in the
House of Commons [a bill to exclude
him from the throne. — Ed. J ; it was
the Presbiterians and the Duke of Mon
mouth' s friends carried it, and were
most violent against me, and now it is
plain that these first, I meane the Pres
biterians, designe nothing lesse than the
ruine of the monarky and our family.
. . . His Majesty appears very reso-
lut for me, and exclaims as I can
desire at what has past in the House
of Commons, and is very much unsat-
isfyed with the Duke of Monmouth,
and uses all his endeavors to hinder
the bill's passing in the House of
Commons. I hope this vote of theirs
will do there worke for them, for
they that pretend to lay aside one
for his religion, may as well lay aside
another for some fancy or other, but
I hope his Majesty will take courage
and at last be a king. . . .

Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 159

June 1.
. . . Unlesse something very vigor
ous be done within a very fewe days,
the monarky is gone. June 8th.
I know that he [Charles] is very
sensible that if he parts with any more
of his power, that he is gone. He has
yett the fleett, the garrisons, his gards,
Irland and Scotland, firme to him, so
that if he will yett stand by himself he
may yett be a king. . . . July 3rd.
. . . As for the affairs in Scotland,
that rebellious cru that is up in arms
will, I believe, be sone dispersed, they
having no considerable men amongst
them, but I thinke what may follow
upon the Duke of Monmouth's going
downe thether may be of ill conse
quence. . . . July 6th.
... I am not all of your mind as
to what concerns the meetting of the
Parliament, for I can hope for no good
from it, but on the contrary all the ill
imaginable, and not only to me, but
to his Majesty and our whole family,
as may apeare by the bill that was read
in the House of Commons against me,
which was against law, and destroys
the very being of the monarky, which,
I thank God, yett has had no depend-
ancy on Parliaments nor on nothing
but God alone, nor ever can and be
a monarky ; and I hope his Majesty
will be of this mind and never lett this
House of Commons sitt againe. If he
does he is ruined forever. July 26.
... I believe you have heard, as
well as I, that his Majesty has disolved
this Parliament and called another to
meette in October. I am very glad he
has done it. ... I hope it will teach
the next better manners, but in case
they should follow the foottsteps of

that which is now broken, I hope they
will be served after the same manner.
... I am not for their using him so
insolently as this last did, nor for their
meddling with the succession.

2. Letter of Monmouth to the King.
(After the discovery of the Rye House
Plot.) (In Roberts' Monmouth, p.
!57-) Nov. 15, 1683.
You must allow me, sir, still to im
portune you, not without hopes of pre
vailing at last upon your generosity, so
as it may get the better of your anger
to me. I am half distracted, sir, with
the thoughts of having offended you,
and the torment it gives me is perhaps
greater than your forgiving nature would
know how to inflict upon the most
criminal offenders. The character I lie
under is too heavy for me to bear, — even
death itself would be a relief to me
could I have it without the aggravation
of leaving the world under your dis
pleasure. I must therefore throw my
self upon your compassion, which,
being a virtue so agreeable to your
nature, I hope your child, sir, will not
be an unfortunate instance of your deny
ing it when 'tis implored. I confess,
sir, I have been in fault, misled, and
insensibly, engaged in things of which
the consequence was not enough under
stood by me ; yet I can say I never had
a criminal thought towards your Maj
esty. Not pretending by that to insist
upon an absolute justification of my
self, your Majesty will consider, that
whilst I was under the apprehension of
great anger and violence against me, it
might easily corrupt my judgment, and
by seeing things in a wrong light,
betray me into very fatal mistakes : but
now that I have had time to recollect
myself, everything like a fault towards
your Majesty appeareth to me in such a
reproaching, terrifying shape, that I

160 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth

have a remorse for it, which, could it
be seen, I assure myself it would move
your compassion to me. I humbly beg,
sir, to be admitted to your feet, and to
be disposed of as you direct, not only
now, but for the remainder of my life :
and though my resignation is too full
to admit any reserve, your Majesty will,
permit me to offer to you whether you
will let pass anything as a penalty upon
me which may lay a stain upon my
innocent children? whether you will
make me undergo the ignominy of a
trial before you will give me your par
don? and of what use or satisfaction
can it be to you to forgive me, and yet
give me the cruel punishment of hear
ing myself arraigned for treason against
such a king and such a father? . . .
Neither do I imagine to receive your
pardon any otherwise than by the inter
cession of the Duke, whom I acknowl
edge to have offended, and am prepared
to submit myself in the humblest man
ner ; and therefore beg your Majesty
would direct how I am to apply myself
to him. . . . Dear sir, be pleased to
revive, by a kind answer, the most
miserable, disconsolate creature now
living.
Monmouth.
3. Letters of James, as Duke of
York, to the Marquis of Queensberry.
(In 15th Report, 8th Appendix, of
Historical Manuscripts Commission.
London, 1897.) London, Nov. 24th, 1683.
. . . As I had written thus far, I
was called for to attend his Majesty
downe to the Secretarys where the
Duke of Monmouth was come to sur
render himself. He desired to speake
to his Majesty and myself alone. He
asked the King' s pardon as became him,
contest himself guilty of the plot in
, generall, and owned all but the know
ing of the designed assasination ; asked
me pardon also, and owned his having

been faulty to me, and made all the
professions man could make. He is
now in the custody of a sargent at
arms; and to-morrow morning his
Majesty has apointed a meetting to con
sider what to do with him. I have not
tyme to say any more. Dec. 1, 1683.
You cannot imagin what a noise and
fermentation this affaire of the Duke of
Monmouth has made, and how it has
encouraged and ' revived the Whiggs
and troubled the Torys ; the former of
which according to their wonted cous-
toume of lying for the good of the
cause, have done and do it most impu
dently now upon this subject, and re
port every where the Duke of Mon
mouth has not owned the Plot, and that
what was in the Monday's Gazette was
false. What incouragement he has
given them to talke so, I will not yett
take upon me to say, but by my next I
may ; and shall now only say I hope
good use will be made of the extrava
gance of that rebellious crue. . . .
Dec. 6th.
... I see you were all of you sur
prised with the newse of the Duke of
Monmouth being at court : at which I
do not wonder at, since here it had the
same effect, and upon it the Whiggs
are growne very insolent, and the more
since they see he, the Duke of Mon
mouth, has not behaved himself as he
aught, and not owned his knowledg of
the conspiracy as he promised his Maj
esty to do. But tho this has done some
harme at first, yett now that Algernon
Sidney is to be beheadded tomorrow,
and some other things will be done,
they will not be so high ; and the Duke
of Monmouth will only have done him
selfe harme by his behavior, and will
satisfy the world he has not deserved
such favor from the King as he has
had. . . „

Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 161

Dec. 8, 16S3.
The Duke of Monmouth's being
banished yesterday the court, will, I
beleve, be no lesse surprising to you
then his coming to it was ; and tho
he has gained his point in getting his
pardon and keeping his credit with his
party, yett I am confident it will have
no further ill effect, and will have this
good one, of taking away that tender-
nesse which moved his Majesty to do
what he did in his favor : for now, he,
the Duke of Monmouth has satisfyed
the world he can never be trusted, and
was never a true penitent ; for he would
not owne under his hand what he sayd
to the King and myself, when he saw
us first, and told some of his dependers
that what had been put in the Gazette
was not true-; which so incensed the
King as obliged him to send him out of
court. But of this no more at present.
Yesterday Algernon Sidney was be
headed ; he died stoutly and like a true
republican. I have not time to say
more. Dec. 20.
. . . Algernon Sidney's speech is
come out in print, and his tryal will I
beleve be out this weeke ; by both
which you will see what a fine prince-
peld man he was, and of the same
trampe are all those the Duke of Mon
mouth was to have headed ; and I
thinke, 'twas a great mercy he discov
ered himself so sone not to be a true
penitent. . . .
4. Extracts from Reresby' s Memoirs,
p. 92. 1685. Feb. 9.
I [as governor of York] ordered the
mail to be brought unopened to my
house, so that no letters could be dis
persed till I knew the true state of the
King. The letters came not in till four
in the morning, and then they gave me
an account of my gracious and great

master's departure out of this world
upon the 7th, at night. I was up ex
pecting the post when it arrived and
suffered no letters to go out till I had
been with the Lord Mayor and the high
sheriff, and had delivered their letters
only to themselves, by which they had
order, and myself also, from the Privy
Council and the Secretary of State, to
proceed immediately to proclaim the
King, James the Second. So soon as
we had prepared all things necessary
for this ceremony, which was done
before day, I gave leave for the dis
persing of the several letters according
to their directions. . . .
It was a strange effect of power from
above, that so strong a party as had not
long before appeared in Parliament to
exclude the Duke of York from the
crown of his ancestors should submit to
his now coming to it with so great
deference. . . . That which in a great
measure did quiet the minds and appre
hensions of the people was the declara
tion made by King James to the Privy
Council immediately after the breath
was out of the body of his brother, that
he would defend the government of
England, both in Church and State, as
by law established, that he would fol
low the steps of the late King in kind
ness and lenity towards his people ; and
that as he would defend the just rights
and prerogatives of the crown, so he
would invade no man's property.

5. A letter, writer unknown, to
the Rev. Francis Roper. (In Ellis,
Original Letters. First Series, Vol.
HI. p. 333-)
. . . About 4 o'clock King James
was proclaimed with the usual solem
nity and with great acclamations,
together with a decent concern for the
loss of so good a Prince. All things
were managed with great order and
quiett; and his Maj'tie, at night, in

1 62 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth

Council, made a very gracious decla
ration (which, I suppose, will be in
print) wherein he promis'd solemnly
to tread exactly in his brother's steps,
both as to money and to governing ac
cording to law ; and particularly that
he would maintain the Church as now
by law establish' d. The same decla
ration he made to my Lord in private,
with solemn protestations : and 'tis his
constant discourse, that he will not in
the least disturb the established govern
ment of the Church, either by tolera
tion, or any other way whatever.
This day the Archbishop and Bishops
waited on his Majestie and desired pri
vate audience ; and in the Closett the
Archbishop made a very eloquent
speech, by way of thanks, in the name
of the whole Clergy, for the last night's
declaration, as what prevented what
otherwise they must have made their
earnest prayer and suit to him, to pat
ronize the Church, as his royall brother
of blessed memory had all along done :
giving him all assurances of loyalty in
the Clergy as what he might depend
upon, as it is both the doctrine and
practice of our Church, beyond any
Church in the World. His Majestie
again repeated what he had before de-
clar'd, and said moreover, he would
never give any sort of countenance to
Dissenters, knowing that it must needs
be faction and not religion, if men
could not bee content to meet five be
sides their own familie, which the Law
dispenses with.
Thus to make amends for our great
loss, wee are much comforted with, the
hopes we have. of our Church continu
ing in its former flourishing estate.
His Majestie has never yet been known
to bee worse than his word ; and 'tis
to be hop'd he will not bee, in so often
repeated promises. God continue him

in his good resolutions, and make us
all live peaceably and happily under
him, and that his reign may bee al-
wayes answerable to this auspicious
beginning. I am Sir, your . . .
Extract from Fountainhall.
On the 23 of Aprill, being St
George's day, the King and Quean
ware crouned at Westminster. . . .
Their ware scattered amongst the pee-
ple about 500/. stei ling's worth of
coronation medalls, made of purpose,
with sundry emblems, one of ane eagle
trying hir young ones by the sun etc.
It is very far short of the splendor of
his Brother's coronation in 1660. . . .
It is like it was to shun expence to
himselfe and the nobility, whose for
tunes are low. . . . By ane act, the
King declared that the Quean, on hir
coronation day, would release all pris
oners for debts within £5 sterling, by
paying them, wheirby 80 were liberat
in Newgate. Shee was not crouned
with the imperiall croun of the king-
dome of England, but by a golden
croun, made of purpose, worth 300000/.
sterling ; the Jewells shee had on hir
ware reckoned worth a million, which
made her shine like ane angell. All
the peeresses ware richly attired, and
with ther coronets on their heads. . . .
At the coronation, the Te Deum and
Veni Creator were sung. . . . Among
other verses made on this coronation
Elcana Setle, once the Whigs' poet,
now fallen of, made a heroick poem,
wher he brings in Shaftsburry, Essex,
and Russell, (whom he calls G. Bur
net's reforming pupill,) gnashing their
teeth and shaking their snakes in hell,
at the news of the Duke of York' s cor
onation as king, and calls Monmouth
that skulking, litle, wou'd-be-king. . . ,

'tum/UJ* 'yvY/y/yty/Jif. (/.. Zm/m^ /mm '&m/w\v/}/:-Wm

Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 163

6. Extract from Bishop Burnet's
History of his own Times. (Oxford,
1852, p. 24.)
I must now say something concern
ing myself. At this time [accession of
James II. 1685] I went out of England.
Upon King Charles's death, I had
desired leave to come and pay my duty
to the King by the marquis of Halifax.
The King would not see me. So,
since I was at that time in no sort of
employment, not so much as allowed
to preach anywhere, I resolved to go
abroad. . . . The King approved of
this, and consented to my going : but
still refused to see me. So I was to go
beyond sea, as to a voluntary exile.
This gave me great credit with all the
malecontents : and 1 made the best use
of it I could. . . . Fletcher, a Scotch
gentleman of great parts, and many
virtues, but a most violent republican,
and extravagantly passionate, did not
like Argile's scheme [for raising a re
bellion in Scotland] : so he resolved to
run fortunes with the duke of Mon
mouth. He told me, that ¦ all the
English among them were still press
ing the duke of Monmouth to venture.
They said, all the west of England
would come about him, as soon as he
appeared, as they had done five or six
years ago. . . . This appeared a mad
and desperate undertaking to the duke
of Monmouth himself. He knew what
a weak body a rabble was, and how
unable to deal with troops long trained.
Fletcher . . . said to me, that the
duke of Monmouth was pushed on to
it against his own sense and reason :
but he could not refuse to hazard his
person, when others were so forward.
Lord Grey said, that Henry the seventh
landed with a smaller number, and suc
ceeded. Fletcher answered, he was
sure of several of the nobility, who
were little princes in those days. . . .
The night I left London, the Earl of

Arran came to me, and told me, the
King had an advertisement of it [Mon
mouth's plot] that very day. I saw it
was fit for me to make haste : other
wise I should have been seized on, if it
had been only to put the affront on me,
of being suspected of holding corres
pondence with traitors.
Argile had a very prosperous voyage.
... At his landing he found, that the
early notice the council had of his
designs had spoiled his whole scheme.
. . . Yet he got above 2500 men to
come to him. . . . But he lingered too
long, hoping still to have brought more
of his Highlanders together. . . . He
had left his arms in a castle, with such
a guard as he could spare; but they
were routed by a party of the King's
forces. And with this he lost both
heart and hope. ... He died pitied
by all. His death being pursuant to
the sentence passed three years be
fore, was looked on as no better than
murder.

7. Extract from FountainhalFs Me
moirs. (Edinburgh, 1837, p. 185.)
Argile was brought from Glasgow to
Edinburgh, prisoner, on the 20th of
June. . . . At first our rulers ware so
irritate, that they resolved to pftt all the
marks of contumely on him they could ;
such as, a cart was provided at the
Watergate, with a chair in it to bind
him on, and so hurdle him up the way,
the hangman leading him, or else to set
him on a coall horse, also ready ther ;
for it was reported that in 1650, when
the Marquis of Montrose was brought
up prisoner from the Watergate in a
cart, this Argile was feeding his eyes
with the sight in the Lady Murrayes
balcony, in the Canongate, with his
daughter, his lady, to whom he was
new married, and that he was seen
playing and smiling with her. . . .

164 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth

The dulnesse and sillinesse of the
manner of his taking is very od ; Provi
dence confounding our common opinion
of things : every one reputed Argile
waliant and witty, and Sir John Coch
rane neither, and yet Argile sneaks
away from the hazard, and Sir John
fights stoutly like a man; only, the
greatest coward when straitned (like a
cat pershued in a cupboard) will fight
desperately enough. . . .
But this was yet more surprising and
unprobable [than the case of Pyrrhus,
which he has cited at some length]
that the generall of ane army should be
apprehended by country peeple, he
stragling and stealing away before the
fight ; and every on thought him so gal
lant and generous that, rather than be
so tane and brought to a scaffold, he
would much more choise to fight and to
be killed on the field, as Rumbold
answered, when he was bid render
himselfe " That he came there to fight
for death, not for life." Argile had
miserably deceaved both himselfe and
those he had persuaded to joyne with
him : for, 1 . The kingdome was not
disposed to ryse so numerously as he
expected ; 2. Monmouth, partly throw
sicknesse, and partly by unreadinesse,
(tho it was concerted and agreed betuen
them irf Holland, that he should follow
him, so that both their invasions should
be at once,) was so long of landing in
England. . . .
O the ludibrium of humane fortune !
Argile in pomp and glory carried our
imperiall croun before this King when
Duke of York in his Parliament 1681 ;
and now, in 4 years tyme, he is igno-
miniously led up that same very street
by the hangman.
It was long debated at Privy Coun-
sell, whither he should be hanged or
headed, and the last carried it. . . .
Our old Scots way of quartering, was

only the cutting of the legs and the
armes, (as was done with the great
Montrose,) but did not divide the body,
which severe practise we have only of
late, since Rathilet's case, borrowed
from the customes of England, whom
we doe not imitate in manie better
things. . . .
And thus was Argile headed on the
30 of June 1685, as his father had been
in 1661. He had all the civility imag
inable put upon him ; he was allowed
8 freinds to be in mourning with him
on the scaffold, ... he came in coach
to the toune Counsell, and from that
on foot to the scaffold with his hat on.
. . . He was somewhat appaled at the
sight of the Maiden [the block?],
(present death will danton the most
resolute courage,) therfor he caused
bind the napkin upon his face ere he
approached, and then was led to it.
His body, after the separation of his
head, by the great commotion and agi
tation of the animall and vitall spirits,
started upright to his feet till it "was
held doune, and the blood from the
jugular weins of the neck sprung most
briskly like a cascade or jette d'eau.
Thus fell that tall and mighty cedar in
our Lebanon, the last of ane ancient
and honorable family. Burnet.
... As soon as lord Argile sailed
for Scotland he [Monmouth] set about
his design with as much haste as was
possible. Arms were brought, and a
ship was freighted for Bilbao in Spain.
The Duke of Monmouth pawned all
his jewels : but these could not raise
much : and no money was sent him out
of England. So he was hurried into
an ill designed invasion. The whole
company consisted but of eighty-two
persons. They were all faithful to one
another. . . .

Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 165

8. Letter of the Mayor of Lyme to
James II. (In Roberts' Monmouth,
Vol. I. p. 257.)
Honiton, nth June, 16S5, near
12 at night.
May it please your sacred Majesty :
This evening, between seven and eight
of the clock, there came in a great ship
into the road of Lyme, not showing
any colours; the off-side of the ship
unseen by us on the shore : she filled
five great boats full of men, which they
speeded behind the Cobb, and so landed
them to the westward of the town : they
went over the cliffs, and presently were
in the town at least 300 men, the Duke
of Monmouth at the head of them, so
that they became masters of the town.
I presently, well knowing that I should
be first seized, took my horse, and came
with speed to this town, and gave notice
to all the country as I came ; and sent
my servants, that notice should be given
to Somerset and Dorsetshires ; and I
hope to be at Exeter, to give an account
of it to the Duke of Albemarle within
two hours.
With the great ship, there is a ketch
of about one hundred tons, and a fly-
boat, which I judge to be about two
hundred tons : neither of them had
landed any men when I came thence ;
but we suppose them to be full of
men. I find this place, and all the country,
to be very ready to betake themselves to
their arms against the rebels. In the
morning at Chideocke, in our bay, they
landed two men ; which I, understand
ing, sent by all ways to apprehend
them. Whether they are taken, I
know not : so I humbly beseech your
Majesty to pardon this distracted rela
tion, not doubting but they have plun
dered me.
I am, your Majesty's most humble
and obedient servant and subject.

Burnet.
The alarm was brought hot to Lon
don : where upon the general report
and belief of the thing, an act of at
tainder passed both houses in one day ;
some small opposition being made by
the Earl of Anglesey, because the evi
dence did not seem clear enough for so
severe a sentence, which was grounded
on the notoriety of the thing. The sum
of 5,000/ was set on his head. . . .
The Duke of Monmouth's manifesto
was long, and ill penned : full of much
black and dull malice. It was plainly
Ferguson's style, which was both tedi
ous and fulsome.

9. Monmouth's Declaration. (In
Roberts's Monmouth. London, 1S44.
Vol. I., p. 235.)
. . . We are particularly compelled
to say, that all the boundaries of the
Government have of late been broken,
and nothing left unattempted, for turn
ing our limited monarchy into an abso
lute tyranny. . . . Our religion hath
been all along undermined by Popish
councils, and our privileges ravished
from us by fraud and violence. And
more especially, the whole course and
series of the life of the present usurper
hath been but one continued conspiracy
against the reformed religion, and rights
of the nation. For whosoever consid
ers his contriving the burning of Lon
don ; his instigating a confederacy with
France and a war with Holland ; his
fomenting the Popish Plot, and encour
aging the murther of Sir Ed. Godfrey
to stifle it ; his forging treason against
protestants, and suborning witnesses to
swear the patriots of our religion and
liberties out of their lives ; his hiring
execrable villains to assassinate the late
Earl of Essex, and causing several
others to be clandestinely cut off, in
hopes to conceal it ; his advising and

1 66 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth

procuring the prorogation and dissolu
tion of parliaments, in order to prevent
inquiry into his crimes, and that he
might escape the justice of the nation :
such can imagine nothing so black and
horrid in itsself, or so ruinous and de
structive to religion and the kingdom
which we may not expect from him,
upon his having invaded the throne,
and usurped the title of a king. . . .
Unless we could be willing to be
slaves as well as papists . . . and
withal be unmindful of our duty to
God, our country and posterity, deaf to
the cries and groans of our oppressed
friends, and be satisfied not only to see
them and ourselves imprisoned, robbed
and murthered, but the Protestant in
terest throughout the whole world be
trayed to France and Rome, we are
bound as men and Christians ... to
betake ourselves to arms. . . . Now
therefore we do solemnly declare and
proclaim war against James Duke of
York, as a murderer and an assassin of
innocent men ; a Popish usurper of the
crown, traitor to the nation and tyrant
over the people. . . .
And whereas the said James Duke
of York, in order to the expediting the
idolatrous and bloody designs of the
Papists, the gratifying his own bound
less ambition after a crown, and to hin
der inquiry into his assassination of
Arthur Earl of Essex, hath poisoned
the late King, and therein manifested
his ingratitude, as well as cruelty to the
world, in murdering a brother, who
had almost ruined himself to preserve
and protect him from punishment : we
do therefore further declare, that for
the aforesaid villanous and unnatural
crime, and other his crimes before
mentioned, and in pursuance of the
resolution of both Houses of Parlia
ment, who voted to revenge the King's
death in case he came to an untimely
end, we will prosecute the said James

Duke of York till we have brought him
to suffer what the law adjudged to be
the punishment of so execrable a fact.
And in a more particular manner, his
Grace the Duke of Monmouth, being
deeply sensible of that barbarous and
horrid parricide committed upon his
father, doth resolve to pursue the said
James Duke of York as a mortal and
bloody enemy. . . .
And forasmuch as the said James
Duke of Monmouth, the now head and
Captain General of the Protestant forces
of this Kingdom . . . hath been, and
still is believed, to have a legitimate
and legal right to the crowns of Eng
land, Scotland, France and Ireland
. . . the said Duke of Monmouth,
from the generousness of his own na
ture and the love he bears to these na
tions . . . doth not at present insist
upon his title, but leaves the determina
tion thereof to the wisdom, justice and
authority of a Parliament. . . .
Our dependence and trust is upon the
Lord of Hosts, in whose name we go
forth, and to whom we commit our
cause, and refer the decision betwixt us
and our enemies in the day of battle.
Now let us play the men for our peo
ple, and for the cities of our God ; and
the Lord do that which seemeth good
unto him.

i o Correspondence of Monmouth and
Albemarle. (In Roberts, Vol. I. p.
326. Also in Ellis.)
To our trusty and well-beloved Cousin
and Councillor, Christopher
Lord Duke of Albemarle.
My Lord : Whereas we are credibly
informed that there are some horse and
foot in arms under your command for
James Duke of York, which are pur
posely raised in opposition to us and
our royal authority ; we thought fit to
signify to you our resentment thereof,
and do promise ourself that what you

Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 167

have transacted therein was through in
advertency and mistake ; and that your
Grace will take other means, when you
have received information of our being
proclaimed King, to succeed our royal
father, lately deceased. We have
therefore sent this messenger on pur
pose to intimate the same unto you ;
and it is our royal will and pleasure,
and we do hereby strictly charge and
command you, upon notice and receipt
thereof, to cease all hostility, and force,
and arms against us and all our loving
subjects ; and that your Grace would
immediately repair to our camp, where
you shall not fail of a very kind recep
tion by us ; or, in default of the prem
ises, we shall be obliged to proclaim
you, and all those in arms under your
command, rebels and traitors, and shall
proceed against you accordingly. Yet
we assure ourself that your Grace will
pay ready obedience to our command ;
wherefore we bid you hearty farewell.
James R.
For James Scott, late Duke of
Monmouth.
I received your letter, and do not
doubt but you would use me kindly if
you had me ; and since you have given
yourself the trouble of invitation, this
is to let you know that I never was,
nor never will be, a rebel to my lawful
King, who is James the Second. If
you think I am in the wrong, and you
in the right, whenever we meet I do
not doubt but the justness of my cause
shall sufficiently convince you that you
had better have left this rebellion alone,
and not have put the nation to so much
trouble.
Albemarle.

1 1 . Extract from Burnet.
Upon the duke of Monmouth's land
ing, many of the country people came
in to join him, but very few of the

gentry. He had quickly men enough
about him to use all his arms. The
duke of Albemarle, as lord lieutenant
of Devonshire, was sent down to raise
the militia, and with them to make head
against him. But their ill affection ap
peared very evidently : many deserted,
and all were cold in the service. The
duke of Monmouth had the whole
country open to him for almost a fort
night, during which time he was very
diligent in training and animating his
men. His own behaviour was so
gentle and obliging, that he was master
of all their hearts, as much as was pos
sible. But he quickly found, what it
was to be at the head of undisciplined
men, that knew nothing of war, and that
were not to be used with rigour. . . .
The duke of Monmouth's great error
was, that he did not in the first heat
venture on some hardy action, and then
march either to Exeter or Bristol ;
where, as he would have found much
wealth, so would he have gained some
reputation by it. But he lingered in
exercising his men, and stayed too long
in the neighborhood of Lime.
By this means the King had time
both to bring troops out of Scotland,
after Argile was taken, and to send to
Holland for the English and Scotch
regiments that were in the service of
the States ; which the prince [William]
sent over very readily, and offered his
own person, and a greater force, if it
was necessary. [The King was too
wise to accept. — Old Commentator.^
The King received this with great ex
pressions of acknowledgment and kind
ness. It was very visible, that he was
much distracted in his thoughts, and
that what appearance of courage soever
he might put on, he was inwardly full
of apprehensions and fears. . . . He
had no mind to be much obliged to the
prince of Orange, or to let him into his
counsels or affairs. . . .

1 68 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth

The King could not choose worse
than he did when he gave the command
to the Earl of Feversham .... Mon
mouth had almost surprised lord Fever-
sham, and all about him, while they
were a-bed. He got in between two
bodies, into which the army lay divided.
He now saw his error in lingering so
long. He began to want bread, and to
be so straitened, that there was a neces
sity of pushing for a speedy decision.
He was so misled in his march, that he
lost an hour's time : and when he came
near the army, there was an inconsider
able ditch, in the passing which he lost
so much more time, that the officers had
leisure to rise and be dressed, now they
had the alarm and they put themselves
in order. Yet the duke of Monmouth' s
foot stood longer and fought better than
could have been expected : especially,
when the small body of horse they had,
ran upon the first charge, the blame of
which was cast on the Lord Grey. The
foot being thus forsaken and galled by
the cannon, did run at last. About a
thousand of them were killed on the
spot: and 1500 were taken prisoners.
Their numbers when fullest, were
between five and six thousand. The
duke of Monmouth left the field too
soon for a man of courage, who had
such high pretensions : for a few days
before he had suffered himself to be
called king, which did him no service,
even among those that followed him.
He rode towards Dorsetshire : and
when his horse could carry him no
further, he changed clothes with a
shepherd, and went as far as his legs
could carry him, being accompanied
only with a German, whom he had
brought over with him. At last, when
he could go no further, he lay down in
a field where there was hay and straw,
with which they covered themselves,
so that they hoped to lie there unseen
till night. Parties went out on all

hands to take prisoners. The shepherd
was found by the lord Lumley, in the
duke of Monmouth's clothes. So this
put them on his track, and having some
dogs with them they followed the scent,
and came to the place where the Ger
man was first discovered. And he im
mediately pointed to the place where
the duke of Monmouth lay. So he was
taken. . . . His body was quite sunk
with fatigue : and his mind was now
so low, that he begged his life in a
manner that agreed ill with the courage
of the former parts of it. He called
for pen, ink, and paper ; and wrote to
the earl of Feversham, and both to the
queen, and the queen dowager, to inter
cede with the King for his life. The
King's temper, as well as his interest,
made it so impossible to hope for that,
that it shewed a great meanness in him
to ask it in such terms as he used in his
letters. He was carried up to White
hall ; where the King examined him in
person, which was thought very in
decent, since he was resolved not to
pardon him. He made new and unbe
coming submissions, and insinuated a
readiness to change his religion : for he
said, the King knew what his first
education was in religion.

12. Letter of the Duke of Monmouth
to James II. (In Roberts, Vol. I. p.
"3-) . . . The Prince and Princess of
Orange will be witness for me of the
assurance I gave them, that I would
never stir against you. But my mis
fortune was such as to meet with some
horrid people that made me believe
things of your Majesty, and gave me so
many false arguments, that I was fully
led away to believe that it was a shame
and a sin before God not to do it. . . .
I am sure, sir, when you hear me,
you will be convinced of the zeal I have

Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 169

of your preservation, and how heartily
I repent of what I have done. I can
say no more to your Majesty now, being
this letter must be seen by those that
keep me. Therefore, sir, I shall make
an end, in begging of your Majesty to
believe so well of me, that I would
rather die a thousand deaths than ex
cuse anything I have done, if I did not
really think myself the most in wrong
that ever a man was, and had not from
the bottom of my heart an abhorrence
for those that put me upon it, and for
the action itself. I hope, sir, God
Almighty will strike your heart with
mercy and compassion for me, as He
has done mine with the abhorrence of
what I have done. Wherefore, sir, I
hope I may live to show you how zeal
ous I shall ever be for your service :
and could I but say one word in this
letter, you would be convinced of it ;
but it is of that consequence that I dare
not do it. Therefore, sir, I do beg of
you once more to let me speak to you, for
then you will be convinced how much
I shall ever be
Your Majesty's most humble and
dutiful
Monmouth.

13. Extracts from the Buccleugh
MSS. (In Appendix of Sir Patrick
Hume's Narrative. London, 1809.)
The Duke of Monmouth from the
time of his being taken in the West,
shewd a wonderful concernedness to
save his life, and stuck at nothing that
could secure to him the hopes of dooing
it. His Majestie was the first person
that he made his application to, by a
humble and submissive letter : . . .
giving the King to understand that he
has such important matters to commu
nicate to his Majestie, that should secure
his whole nations against the fears and
disturbances of rebellion and sedition
ever after ; and that by the satisfaction

he imagines this discovery would give
the King he doubted not, but in some
measure, to deserve pardon upon this
consideration. He was admitted to see
the King at Mr. Griffin's, where, at his
Majestie appearing, he fell down on his
knees and with much earnestness
begged his life, and his Majestie's
pardon for what he had done. The
King told him, of the latest. The sub
stance in generall of what he told his
Majestie, and as yet has come to my
knowledge, was : That he was deceived
and imposed upon by a company of
rogues and villans, that flattered him
with the hopes and promises of achiev
ing of great matters ; and that if he
land once on English ground all the
nation would appear for him . . . that
Fergusone was chiefly the person that
instigat him to set up his title of King
and had been a main adviser and con
triver of the whole affair, as well to the
attempting as acting what had been
done. . . .
That night he was carried away to
the tower.
After that the devotionarie and inter-
rogatorie pairt had bein over, he went
to that pairt of the scaffold where the
block and ax laye. The axe he took
into his hand, and felt the edge of it,
saying to Jack Ketch [the original
Jack Ketch. — Ed. J , the executioner, that
sure the axe did not feill as if it were
sharp enough, and prayed him that he
would doe his office weill, and not
serve him as he was told he had done
the late Lord Russell ; for if he gave
him two stroaks, he would not promise
him that he would lye still to receive
the third ; and putting his hand in his
pocket, gave him six guinies ; telling
him, that if he did his dutie weel, he
left six more in his servant's hands to be
given him after he was dead, provyding
he did his busines handsomely. All

170 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth

this he said with alse much indiffer-
encie and unconcernednes as if he were
giveing ordours for a sute of cloathes.
Noe change nor alteratione of counte
nance from the first unto the last ; but
stript himself of his coat ; and haveing
prayed, layed himself downe, and fitted
his neck to the block, with all the calm-
nes of temper and composer of mynd
that ever hath bein observed in any that
mounted that fatall scafold before. He
would have no cap to his head, nor be
bound, nor have anie thing on his feace ;
and yett for all this, the botcherly dog,
the executioner, did soe barbarously act
his pairt, that he could not at fyve
stroaks of the ax, sever the head from
the body. At the first, which made
only a slender dash in his necke, his
body heaved up and his head turned
about ; the second stroak he made only
a deeper dash, after which the body

moved ; the third, not being the work,
he threw away the ax, and said, God
damne me, I can doe no more, my
heart fails me. The bystanders had
much adoe to forbear throwing him
over the scafold ; but made him take
the ax againe, threatening to kill him if
he did not doe his deutie better, which
tuo stroaks more not being able to
finish the work, he was fain at last to
draw furth his long knife and with it to
cutt of the remaining pairt of his neck.
If there had not bein a guard before the
shouldieres to conduct the executioner
away, the people would have torne him
to pieces, soe great was their indigna-
tione at the barbarous usage of the leat
Duek of Monmouth, receaved at his
hand. There were many that had the
superstitious curiositie of dipping their
handkercheifs in his blood, and carrey-
ing it away as a precious relique.

GROUP XIX.

THE ARBITRARY RULE OF JAMES II.

1. Letter of Dr. Hickes to Dr.
Charlett. (In Aubrey, Letters by emi
nent persons. London, 1813.)
Jan 23rd, 1710-1 1.
Dear Sir : I . . . can defer my
humble thanks no longer for your kind
New Years gifts, the stately Almanack
and the Orationes ex Poetis Latinis,
where ... I cast my eyes on the
Sortes Virgiliaitae of Charles I.
At Bello Audacis Populi vexatus , etc.
This gave me some melancholy re
flections for an hour or two, and made
me call to my mind . . . the omens
that happened at the coronation of . . .
James II., which I saw, viz. : the totter
ing of his crown upon his head, the
broken canopy over it, and the rent
flag hanging upon the white tower

over against my door when I came-
home from the coronation. It was torn
by the wind at the same time the signal
was given to the tower that he was.
crowned. I put no great stress upon omens but
I cannot despise them : most of them I
believe come by chance, but some from
superior agents, especially those which
regard the fate of kings and nations.

2. Description of James II. by an
anonymous Contemporary. (In Mac-
pherson's Original Papers, I. 589.)
He was something above the middle
stature, well-shaped, very nervous and
strong. His face was rather long, his
countenance engaging. But his out
ward carriage was a little stiff and con-

The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 171

strained. He was not so gracious as
he was courteous and obliging. He
was affable and of easy access. He
affected no formality, though no one
knew the ceremonial better, nor was
more exact in the observation of them
when necessary. . . . Having some
hesitation in his speech, his conversa
tion was not so graceful as it was judi
cious and solid. His temper was natu
rally hot and choleric. But, m his
latter days, he got the better of that ;
and, even in his younger days, it seldom
so much overpowered him, as to make
him do any action unbecoming. . . .
He was a great lover of walking and
hunting. But no diversion made him
neglect business ; to which he had so
great an application, that it seemed to
be of the number of his diversions. He
was so distinguishable for this, that,
during his younger days, notwithstand
ing the unsettledness of his condition,
while he lived in exile, he had not only
performed his duty with great exact
ness, but kept an account of all occur
ences ; and he has obliged posterity
with better memoirs under his own
hand, than perhaps any sovereign
prince has been known to leave behind
him before.
He was, all his life, a great enemy
to drinking, gaming, and indeed to all
diversions which commonly render men
incapable of business. . . . His affec
tion for the Queen was mixed with a
respect and deference. He was the
best father in the world, and the most
unfortunate in some of his children ;
the best master, yet the worst served :
a most constant friend, yet never prince
found fewer in his greatest necessities.
He was so fond of his children, in par
ticular, that when he found the princess
of Denmark [Anne] had deserted him,
upon his return from Salisbury, he
only seemed anxious about her health
and fears for her miscarriage.

3. Extracts from Fountainhall's Me
moirs. 1685.
. . . The King, the Sunday im
mediately following his brother's death,
went openly to his Quean's popish
chappell, and heard masse, and de
clared, that when he was a subject, he
had that respect for the laws of Eng
land, that he would not break them,
but now as King, being above the ex
ecutive force of the law, he ouned
his religion, which was judged in
genuity. . . .
Our King hearing how the French
King had receaved Churchill, he payes
him in his oune coin, and receives
Lorge sitting in his chair of state in the
gallery with his hat on ; which some
French resented, tho it may be meer
policy, to give out that ther is a misun
derstanding between the 2 kings, to
please the English. The last king ad
mitted embassadors without any pomp
or ceremony, to speak him standing in
his bedchamber with his hat of.
The change upon the face of the
English court is very remarkable : in
the last king's tyme mirth, playes,
buffoonerie, etc., domineered, and was
incouraged ; now, there is litle to
be seen but seriousnesse and busi-
nesse. . . .
On the 18th of April, being the
vigil before Easter, the King washed
52 poor men's feet, according to the
number of the years of his oune age,
and he touches severalls for the King's
Evill. He emits a new severe Procla
mation against duels, and certifies,
whoever intices another, or brings a
second with him, he will pardon none
of them. . . . The King delivered to
both Houses his Speach . . . where
in he differs much from his broth
er's style, and signifies his pleasure
in very peremptorie termes, that it
will not be ther best way to feed him

172 The Arbitrary Rule of James II.

from tyme to tyme with supplies, for
that will not praevaill with him to
gather them the oftner together ; then
he acquaints them with Argile' s rebel
lion in Scotland and hopes they will
give him a suitable supply against the
same. And they having on the 23
of May signified to his Majesty, that
by ane act they would settle all the
revenue of tonnage and poundage [on
his Majesty for his life-time] . . .
and that. they would stand by him with
their lives and fortunes against Argile
and all other conspirators; he (with
out giving them thanks, as his brother
used to doe,) with a very dry comple
ment, tells them, they could doe no
lesse in consulting ther oune security.
And in his Speach of the 30 of May,
he craves a farder supply ; and to flat
ter the genius of the nation, he tells
"them in a style wain enough, that he
hopes to raise the reputation of Eng
land beyond what any of his praede-
cessors [had done]. . . . Whereupon
the House of Commons vote him a
farder supply. . . . Some ascrybed
this complyance of the House of Com
mons with the King more to fear than
love, and that he took the true way of
treating Englishmen, in King Henry
the 8th' s minatory forme, that as he
would invade no man's properties, so
he would quite none of his oune rights
and prerogatives ; and that he began
with them as he intended to end : for
the old distich holds true, Anglica gens,
optima fiens, pessima ridens ; with
too much prosperity they turne unsup-
portably insolent, so that it is not safe
to flatter or cajole them ; for sundry of
this house of Commons are disaffected,
but are borne doune by the major part,
who syde with the King, the elections
in counties and burrows being so man-
adged, that by the limitations of the
new charters given them, and excom
munications and other methods used to

debar such as they doubted, they got
many .of them to the King's oune mind ;
which was a point his late brother
could never of late compasse, tho he
had as much of his people's love as the
present King hes, only he was no so
much feared by them. ... If the
King had ane army up, it's like he
would not disband it so easily as his
brother did his. . . .
The English Parliament met again
on the 9th of November, 16S5, by his
Majestie' s special call: wher the King
tells them that, in this late invasion
[Monmouth's] ther was a great discov
ery of the insufficiency of the militia to
suppresse risings, which had moved
him to double the standing forces there
had been in his brother's tyme . . .
and therfor he hoped they would grant
him a suitable supply to defray it ; and
that he had made use of some to be
officers in his army who ware not qual
ified according to the laws (being pop
ish) , but to deal plainly with them
he would nather expose nor desert
them. . . .
The two Houses having retired, the
Peers ware induced to thank the King
for his Speach ; but the commons de
murred on it, they liked nather the on
part of the Speach nor the other : a
standing army they ware not for . . .
and, as to Popish officers they . . .
would have them removed in tyme
coming. . . .
The Lord Jeffries, Chancehor,
brought in a bill to the House of
Peers for reschinding the Test made
in 1678" against transsubstantiation, and
for allowing the Popish lords (who are
17 in England) to come and sit in the
House of Peers. . . . Upon this mo
tion of the Chancelor's many of the
nobility and bischops got up and
shewed great resentment and indigna
tion, clouds of them speaking at once ;
and he reprooving them, as violating

The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 173

the order and forme of Parliament, on
told him they knew what decency be
came a Parliament as weell as he knew
the King's Bench, reflecting on his
rise. The peers, who used alwayes to
be most tame and obsequious to the
Kings, turned very giddy and discon
tent in this Parliament ; what had of
fended and allarumed them was the
King's turning the Marquis of Halifax,
Bischop of London, etc., of his Privy
Counsell. . . . What displeased the
Peers is, i . That it's the temper and
genius of English Parliaments to begin
fair, and to be fond and kind to ther
new Princes, but ther concord uses not
to last long. 2.' It was publickly
knowen in London, that a Nuncio or
Vicar generall was come from the Pope
to the King at London . . . whereas
ther had not been such embassies pass
ing between Rome and England never
since the reigne of Quean Mary thesse
130 years.
In the house of peers ther ware od
speaches : ther religion (on said) was
like the banks in Holland which bri
dled the sea ; once make a breach in
them, all their hands would not be
able to stop the breach and inundation.
. . . The Bischop of London went to
the King, and fell on his knees, intreat-
ing him to quiet and secure the minds
of the peeple, . . . and they say, the
King turned on his heel. . . .
As for the commons, the King can
never expect to get a better constituted
House of Commons. . . . They are all
men almost pricked doun by the King
himself as his freinds, and ther ar about
150 of them his defenders and pension
ers : so that it behooved to be a very
extraordinary demand of the Kings that
startled them : and the truth was, many
loyall subjects wished he had not scrued
the pine so hy in his Speach, as he left
no honourable roume for a retrait to

himselfe, if the Parliament should not
grant his desire. . . .
The King was so irritated with their
free discourses on the iSth, that he took
resolution that same night to prorogue
them ; which he did on the 19th in the
morning, (which was knowen to few,)
having come to the House of Peers in
his robes, and the croun on his head,
and called up the House of Commons
and their Speaker, and so prorogued
them himselfe. . . . The members of
the English Parliament are observed to
be very calme when out of Parliament,
but seldome doe they return better
natured than when they parted, but
rather with 7 devills. . . . The rich
men in the city of London are very
discontented, and so renders trade-
very dead. . . .
The King was resolved in this last
Parliament, to have passed ane act that
ther Habeas Corpus write should not
liberate in treason, that the King might
not be forced to insist or divulge his
proofs ther, in cases of treason, before
he ware ready, which in experience he
had found to be prejudiciall. . . .
In April, 1686, my two servants
being imprisoned, and I threatened
therewith, as also, that they would
seize upon my papers, and search if
they contained anything offensive to
the party then prevailling, I was neces
sitated to hide this Manuscript and
many others, and intermit my Historick
Remarks till the Revolution in the end
of 1688. Reresby's Memoirs.
March 2nd, 16S5.
... It was now out of doubt that
the King was a Papist, for he went
publicly to mass ; but he ordered the
chapel at Whitehall to be kept in the
same order as formerly, where the
Princess of Denmark [later Queen
Anne] went daily. The King repaired
to the Queen's private chapel. . . .

174 The Arbitrary Rule of James II.

Nov. 20th.
. . . The Popish party at this time
behaved themselves with an insolence
which did them a prejudice. The King
of France continued to practise all the
cruelties imaginable towards the Pro
testants in France to make them turn
Papists, commanding that all extrem
ities should be used but death, as seiz
ing their lands, razing their temples
and houses, taking all their goods, put
ting them into prisons, quartering
dragoons with them to eat up their
estates and to watch them that they
should not sleep till they changed their
religion. Many of them fled into all
parts as they could escape, poor and
naked ; for their estates were stopped
and themselves condemned to the gal
leys if they were taken attempting to
fly. ... March i.
. . . Though it could not be said
that there was as yet any remarkable
invasion upon the rights of the Church
of England, yet the King gave all the
encouragement he could to the increase
of his own, by putting more papists
into office, but especially in Ireland ;
by causing or allowing popish books to
be printed and sold and cried publicly ;
by publishing some popish papers
found in the late King's closet, and the
declaration of his dying a papist and
the manner of it ; . . .by sending my
Lord Castelmaine upon a solemn em
bassy to the Pope, and many other such
things ; which made all men expect
that more would follow of a greater
concern. . . . May 13th.
. . . The King having lately got a
Jesuit for his confessor, went on faster
than formerly in promoting the Roman
Catholic religion.

4. Extracts from Burnet. (After
Monmouth's Execution.)
Thus lived and died this unfortunate
young man. He had several good
qualities in him, and some that were as
bad. He was soft and gentle even to
excess, and too easy to those who had
credit with him. He was both sincere
and good-natured, and understood war
well. But he was too much given to
pleasure and to favourites. . . .
The King was now as successful as
his own heart could wish. . . . And
certainly a reign that was now so be
yond expectation successful in its first
six months seemed so well settled that
no ordinary mismanagement could have
spoiled such beginnings. If the King
had ordered a speedy execution of such
persons as were fit to be made public
examples, and had upon that granted a
general indemnity ... it is not easy
to imagine with what advantage he
might then have opened and pursued
his designs.
But his own temper, and the fury of
some of his ministers, and the maxims
of his priests . . . concurred to make
him lose advantages that were never to
be recovered. . . . The army was kept
for some time in the western counties,
where both officers and soldiers lived as
in an enemy's country, and treated all
that were believed to be ill affected to
the King with great rudeness and
violence. Kirk, who had commanded long in
Tangier, was become so savage by the
neighbourhood of the Moors there, that
some days after the battle, he ordered
several of the prisoners to be hanged
up at Taunton, without so much as the
form of law, he and his company look
ing on from an entertainment they were
at. At every new health another pris
oner was hanged up. And they were
so brutal, that observing the shaking of
the legs of those whom they hanged, it

The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 175

was said among them, they were danc
ing ; and upon that music was called
for. But, as if this had been nothing,
Jeffries was sent the western circuit to
try the prisoners. His behaviour was
beyond anything that was ever heard of
in a civilized nation. He was perpet
ually either drunk or in a rage, liker a
fury than the zeal of a judge. He re
quired the prisoners to plead guilty.
And in that case he gave them some
hope of favour if they gave him no
trouble : otherwise, he told them, he
would execute the letter of the law upon
them in its utmost severity. This made
many plead guilty who had a great de
fence in law. But he shewed no mercy.
He ordered a great many to be hanged
up immediately without allowing them
a minute's time to say their prayers.
He hanged, in several places, about six
hundred persons. The impieties with
which he treated them . . . would
have amazed one, if done by a bashaw
in Turkey. England had never known
anything like it.
But that which brought all his
excesses to be imputed to the King
himself, and to the orders given by
him, was, that the King had a particu
lar account of all his proceedings writ
to him every day. And he took pleas
ure to relate them in the drawing room
to foreign ministers, and at his table,
calling it Jeffries' s campaign [also in
letters. — Ed.] . . . Dykfield was at that
time in England, one of the ambassa
dors whom the States had sent over to
congratulate the King's coming to the
crown. He told me, that the King
talked so often of these things, that he
wondered to see him break out into
those indecencies. And upon Jeffries' s
coming back, he was created a baron
and peer of England. [He was created

a baron and peer before. Old Com
mentator^ . . . Pen [Sylvan Penn]
who saw the execution [of old Lady
Lisle, who fell asleep at her trial] . . .
said to me, the king was much to be
pitied, who was hurried into all this
effusion of blood by Jeffries' s impetuous
and cruel temper.

5. Extracts from an " Impartial Ac
count of Kirk's Cruelties ... by
. . . an Eye and Ear Witness." (In
the work known as the Bloody As
sizes, 5th Edition.)
When Kirk came first into Taunton
he came with two cartloads of men
bloody, and their wounds not drest,
just as they were hauled into Bridge-
water Prison. . . . He also brought
with him into Taunton, a great drove
of foot, chained two and two together.
He hanged 19 on the Corn-hill imme
diately. . . . He caused their bowels
to be burnt, and their quarters to be
boiled in pitch, and hanged all about
the town.
Kirk hanged one on the White Heart
sign-post three times, to try if he would
own he had done amiss ; but he affirmed
(to this effect) that if it was to do
again, he would engage in the same
cause ; so Kirk would have him hang'd
in chains ; and so he was, till King
William came to the deliverance of this
nation from popery and slavery.
When Jenkins, Hewlings, etc., were
to die, before they came out, there was
a great fire made on the Corn-hill, that
so they might see the fire that was to
burn their bowels.
Some that Kirk caused to be hanged,
he caused also their bodies to be stript,
and their breasts to be cleav'd asunder ;
in the place where he caused the execu
tions to be done, you might have gone
up to the ankles in blood.

176 The Arbitrary Rule of James .II.

Formula for Sentences of Judges.

(Quoted by Roberts from
Trials.")

State

You must every one of you be had
back to the place from whence you
came, from thence you must be drawn
to the place of execution, and there
you must severally be hanged by the
necks, every one of you by the neck
till you are almost dead ; and then
you must be cut down, your entrails
must be taken out and burnt before
your faces ; your several heads to be
cut off, and your bodies to be divided
into four parts, and those to be disposed
of at the pleasure of the King : and
the Lord have mercy upon your souls.

6. Extract from North's Life of
Guilford. (In Jessop's Lives of the
Norths. London, 1S90. Vol. I. p.
288.) "Noisy in nature. Turbulent at
first setting out. Deserter in difficul
ties. Full of tricks. Helped by sim
ilar friendships. Honesty, law, policy,
alike." This, to conclude, is the summary
character of the Lord Chief Justice
Jeffries and needs no interpreter. . . .
I will subjoin what I have personally
noted of the man ; and some things of
indubitable report concerning him.
. . . His delights were . . . drinking,
laughing, singing, kissing, and all the
extravagances of the bottle. He had a
set of banterers for the most part, near
him ; as in old time great men kept fools
to make them merry. . . . No friend
ship or dearness could be so great in
private which he would not use ill, and
to an extravagant degree, in publick.
No one . . . was safe from his public
contempt and derision. . . . When he
was in temper and matters indifferent

came before him, he became his seat of
justice better than any other I ever saw
in his place. He took a pleasure in
mortifying fraudulent attorneys and
would deal forth his severities with a
sort of majesty. He had extraordinary
natural abilities. . . . He talked flu
ently and with spirit ; and his weak
ness was that he could not reprehend
without scolding ; and in such Billings
gate language as should not come out
of the mouth of any man. He called
it, "giving a lick with the rough side
of his tongue." It was ordinary to
hear him say, "Go, you are a filthy,
lousy, knitty rascal," with much more
of like elegance. . . . And that visage
he put on when he animadverted on
such as he took offence at, which made
him a terror to real offenders; whom
also he terrified, with his face and
voice, as if the thunder of the day of
judgement broke over their heads : and
nothing ever made men tremble like
his vocal inflictions. He loved to in
sult and was bold without check ; but
that only when his place was upper
most. . . . There was a scrivener . . .
[whose] bill was dismissed with costs,
and he went his way. In the hall, one
of his friends asked him how he came
off? "Came off," said he, "I am
escaped from the terrors of that man's
face which I would scarce undergo
again to save my life ; and I shall cer
tainly have the frightful impression of
it as long as I live." Afterwards,
when the Prince of Orange came, and
all was in confusion, this lord chancel
lor, being very obnoxious, disguised
himself in order to go beyond sea.
He was in a seaman's garb and drink
ing a pot in a cellar. This scrivener
came into the cellar after some of his
clients ; and his eye caught that face
which made him start; and the chan
cellor, seeing himself eyed, feigned a
cough and turned to the wall.

The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 177

7. Extract from the Bloody Assizes.
Case of Mr. John Tut chin.
This young gentleman had the mis
fortune, with many others of his ac
quaintance, to be in the interest of the
Duke of Monmouth, but had a better
fortune than many of 'em, by conceal
ing his name. For ... he was com
mitted to prison under the borrow' d
name of Thomas Pitts, and his real
name was not discovered till after he
was acquitted of the Rebellion, no
person appearing as evidence against
him. But Jeffreys having discovered his
true name before Mr. Tutchin was
gone from the prison, was resolv'd
upon revenge, and said he was never
so far outwitted, by an old or young
rogue in his life.
Mr. Tutchin . . . was brought up
again to the hall ; but Jeffreys not car
ing to indict him for rebellion, pre
tended that the crime of changing his
name deserved a severe sentence ; and
thereupon passed sentence as follows :
That he should remain in prison during
the space of seven years ; that once
every year he should be whipt thro'
all the market towns in Dorsetshire ;
that he should pay a fine of ioo marks
to the king, and find security for his
good behaviour during life. This, you
will say, was a whipping-sentence
indeed. It was observable, when this sentence
was past upon Mr. Tutchin, that the
ladies in the court, of which there were
a great many, all burst out a crying;
but Jeffreys turning towards them,
said, "Ladies, if you did but know
what a villain this is, as well as I do,
you would say, this sentence is not half
bad enough for him."
Upon passing the sentence the clerk
of the arraigns stood up, and said,
"My Lord, there are a great many

market-towns in this county, the sen
tence reaches to a whipping about once
a fortnight, and he's a very young
man." "Aye," says Jeffreys, "he's
a young man, but he's an old rogue;
and all the interest in England shan't
reverse the sentence I have past upon
him." But certainly no devil incarnate could
rage, nor no Billingsgate woman could
scould worse than this judge did at this
young gentleman whilst he was at the
bar. He . . . told him that he was a
rebel from Adam, that never any of his
family had the least loyalty ; and, said
he, "I understand you are a wit and
poet, pray sir, let you and I cap
verses." Mr. Tutchin smil'd in his
face, and told him he knew upon what
ground he stood, and when he was
overmatched. . . .
Mr. Tutchin . . . drew up a peti
tion with his own hand, which was pre
sented to the King at Winchester, and
was as follows . . . " That he humbly
conceives the sentence pass'd upon him
by the said Jeffreys is worse than death ;
and therefore humbly prays your Maj
esty will be mercifully pleas' d to grant
him the favour of being hang'd with
those of his fellow-prisoners, that are
condemned to die." . . . The Court
esteemed it a barbarous sentence ; and
it's said the King esteemed it no less.
But all the answer could be got, was
from the Lord Sunderland, That Mr.
Tutchin must wait with patience. . . .
Four or five days before the execu
tion of the sentence, a brother in law of
Mr. Tutchins, a physician, persuaded
him to take a dose of physic to make
himself sick, by which means the exe
cution might be put off. . . . He took
the dose and in three or four days the
small-pox came out very thick upon
him, no man ever had 'em to a higher
degree. . . . Mr. Tutchin lying in this
miserable condition . . . his friends

178 The Arbitrary Rule of James II.

worked the easier with Jeffreys to get
the sentence reversed, which some peo
ple would have believed a sign of re
pentance in Jeffreys, had he not taken
the money himself. ... So he was
popt into a pardon amongst others ; for
'twas usual at that time for one courtier
to get a pardon of the king for half . a
score, and then by the assistance of
Jeffreys to augment the sum to four
score. or an hundred, and so this unfor
tunate gentleman fortunately got out of
his broil. . . .
Who could have thought, when
Jeffreys past that sentence on Mr.
Tutchin in the West, that ever Mr.
Tutchin should see that wicked judge a
prisoner, apprehended by the injur' d
people, and committed by a tool of his
own party? Yet so it happened.
For Jeffreys endeavouring to make
his escape beyond sea in a sailor'shabit
was . . . taken in Anchor-and-Hope
Alley in Wapping, and by the mob
carried before the instrument of Popery,
Sir J  C  , then Lord Mayor of
the City of London, and by him com
mitted, to the Tower.
Mr. Tutchin hearing of this, went to
give his Lordship a visit ; who • did not
know Mr. Tutchin at first, he being
much altered with 'the small-pox ; but
Jeffreys understanding who he was,
told him, " He was glad to see him."
Mr. Tutchin answered, " He was glad
to see him in that place." Jeffreys re
turned, that time and place happened
to all men, . . . and abundance of
such cant; but added, that he had
served. his master very faithfully accord
ing to his conscience. Mr. Tutchin
asked him, where his conscience was
when he past , that sentence on him in
the West? Jeffreys said ..." 'twas
part of my instructions, to spare no
man of courage, parts or estate" ; but
withal added, that his instructions were
much more severe than the execution of

them, and that at his return he Was
snub'd at Court for being too merciful.
So after he had treated Mr. Tutchin
with a glass of wine, Mr. Tutchin
went away.
Soon after this Jeffreys had a barrel
of oysters sent him to the Tower, which
he caused to be opened, saying, He
thanked God he, had some friends left.
But when the oysters were tumbled out
on the table, a halter came out with
them, which' made him change his
countenance, and so pa-ll'd his stomach
that he could eat none of them. This
was confidently reported to be done- by
Mr. Tutchin ; but I having heard him
protestthat he was not in the least con
cerned therein, we must believe it to be -
done by another hand.

8. Extracts from Evelyn.Dec. 29th, 1686.
I went to heare the musiq of the
Italians in the New Chapel, now first
open'd publicky at Whitehall for the
Popish service. . . . The throne where
the King and . Queene sit is very glori
ous, iri a closet above, just opposite to
the altar. Here we saw the Bishop in
his mitre and rich copes, with 6 or- 7
Jesuits and others in rich copes, sump
tuously habited, often taking off and
putting on the Bishop's mitre, who sate
in a chaire with armes pontificaly, was
ador'd and cens'd by 3 Jesuits in their
copes; then he went to the altar and
made divers cringes, then censing the
images and glorious tabernacle plac'd
on the altar, and now and then chang
ing place : the crosier which was of
silver, was put into his hand with a
world of mysterious - ceremony, the
musiq playing, with singing. I could
not have believed I should ever have
seene such things in the King of Eng
land's Palace, after it had pleas'd God
to enlighten this Nation ; but owr greate

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The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 179

sin has, for the present, eclips'd the
blessing, which I hope He will in
mercy and his good time restore to its
purity. Jan. 17th, 1686-7.
Much expectation of severall greate
men declaring themselves Papists.
Lord Tyrconnell gone to succeed the
Lord Lieutenant in Ireland, to the as
tonishment of all sober men, and to
the evident ruine of the Protestants in
that kingdom, as well as of its greate
improvement going on. Much dis
course that all the White Staff officers
and others should be dismiss' d for ad
hering to their religion. Popish Jus
tices of the Peace establish' d in all
counties, of the meanest of the people ;
Judges ignorant of the law and per
verting it — so furiously do the Jesuits
drive, and even compel Princes to vio
lent courses, and destruction of an ex
cellent government both in Church and
State. God of his infinite mercy open
our eyes and turn our hearts, and es
tablish his truth with peace ! The
Lord Jesus defend his little flock, and
preserve this threatened Church and
Nation. March 2nd.
Came out a proclamation for uni
versal liberty of conscience in Scotland,
and dispensation from all tests and
lawes to the contrary, as also capacitat
ing Papists to be chosen into all offices
of trust. The mysterie operates. March 10th.
Most of the greate officers, both in
the court and country, Lords and
others, were dismiss' d, as they would
not promise his Majesty their consent
to the repeal of the test and penal
statutes against Popish Recusants. . . .
This was a time of greate trial, but
hardly one of them assented, which
put the Popish interest much back
ward.

April 15th, 168S.
The persecution still raging in
France, multitudes of Protestants, and
many very considerable and greate per
sons flying hither, produc'd a general
contribution, the Papists, by God's
Providence, as yet making small prog
ress amongst us. . . . May 8th.
His Majesty, alarmed by the greate
fleet of the Dutch (whilst we had a
very inconsiderable one), went down
to Chatham ; their fleete was well pre
par'd, and out, before we were in any
readinesse, or had any considerable
number to have encounter' d them had
there ben occasion, to the great reproch
of the nation ; whilst being in pro
found peace, there was a mighty land
army, which there was no neede of,
and no force at sea, where only was the
apprehension ; but the army was doubt
less kept and increas'd in order to bring
in and countenance Popery, the King
beginning to discover his intentions, by
many instances persued by the Jesuits,
against his first resolution to altar noth
ing in the Church Establishment, so
that it appear' d there can be no reli
ance on Popish premises. June 8th.
This day the Archbishop of Canter
bury, with the Bishops of Ely, Chi
chester, St. Asaph, Bristol, Peterbor
ough, and Bath and Wells, were sent
from the Privy Council prisoners to the
Tower, for refusing to give baile for
their appearance, on their not reading
the declaration for liberty of conscience ;
they refus'd to give baile, as it would
have prejudic'd their peerage. The
concern of the people for them was
wonderfull, infinite crouds on their
knees begging their blessing, and pray
ing for them as they pass'd out of the
barge along the Tower wharf.

180 The Arbitrary Rule of James II.

ioth.
A Toung Prince borne, which will
cause disputes. About 2 o'clock we
heard the Tower ordnance discharg'd,
and the bells ringing for the birth of a
Prince of Wales. This was very sur
prizing, it having been universally given
out that her Majesty did not look till
the next moneth. June 29th.
The trial [of the bishops] lasted
from 9 in the morning to past 6 in the
evening, when the Jury retired to con
sider of their verdict, and the Court
adjourned to 9 the next morning. . . .
The Chief Justice Wright behav'd
with great moderation and civility to
the Bishops. Alibone, a Papist, was
strongly against them ; but Holloway
and Powell, being of opinion in their
favour, they were acquitted. When
this was heard there was greate rejoic
ing ; and there was a lane of people
from the King's Bench to the water
side, on their knees, as the Bishops
pass'd and repass' d, to beg their bless
ing. Bonfires were made that night,
and bells rung, which was taken very
ill at Court, and an appearance of
neere 60 Earls and Lords, etc., on the
bench, did not a little comfort them,
but indeede they were all along full of
comfort and cheerfull.
Note, they denied to pay the Lieu
tenant of the Tower (Hales, who us'd
them very surlily) any fees, alledging
that none were due. Sept. 30th.
The Court in so extraordinary a con
sternation on assurance of the Prince of
Orange's intention to land, that the
writs sent forth for a Parliament were
recall' d.

October 7th.
Hourly expectation of the Prince of
Orange's invasion heighten' d to that
degree that his Majesty thought fit to
abrogate the Commission for the dis
pensing power (but retaining hi-s own
right still to dispense with all laws) and
restore the ejected Fellows of Magda
len College, Oxford. In the mean
time he called over 5000 Irish and 4000
Scots, and continued to remove Protes
tants and put in papists at Portsmouth
and other places of trust, and retained
the Jesuits about him, increasing the
universal discontent. It brought peo
ple to so desperate a passe, that they
seem'd passionately to long for and
desire the landing of that Prince whom
they look'd on to be their deliverer from
Popish tyranny, praying incessantly for
an east wind, which was said to be the
only hindrance of his expedition with a
numerous army ready to make a
descent. To such a strange temper,
and unheard-of in former times, was
this poore nation reduc'd, and of which
I was an eye-witness. The apprehen
sion was (and with reason) that his
Majesty's forces would neither at land
or sea oppose them with that vigour
requisite to repel invaders. Oct. 14th.
The King's birth-day. No gunns
from the Tower as usual. The sun
eclips'd at its rising. This day signal
for the victory of William the Con
queror against Harold, near Battel in
Sussex. The wind, which had been
hitherto west, was east all this day.
. . . Public prayers order' d to be
read in the churches against inva
sion.

The Coming of William and Mary 181

GROUP XX.

THE COMING OF WILLIAM AND MARY.

I. Speech of the Prince of Orange
to his Dutch Estates. (In Ellis, Orig
inal Letters, Series II. Vol. IV. p. 140.)
Hague, Oct. 13th, 16S8, Old Stile.
My Lords : I am going to the navy
to embark. I hope you do not take it
ill that I do not make it known to you
all where I am going. I will assure
your Lordships, that what I am design
ing is for the good of the Protestant
Religion in general and of your State
in particular, as is not unknown to
some among you. I will either succeed
in it or spend my blood to the last drop.
My Lords, your trust in me, and
kindness to me at this time, is un
bounded ; if I live and make it not the
business of my life to make your Lord
ships suitable returns for it, my God
blast all my designs, and make me pass
for the most ungrateful wretch that
ever lived.
Herr Fagel's Answer by Order (ib.)
Sir : My Lords the States are not at
all displeased that you conceal from
them your design ; they do repose an
entire confidence in your Highness'
conduct, zeal to the Protestant religion
and affection to their State ; otherwise
they would never have given you the
absolute disposal of their navy, their
armies, and their money. My Lord,
the States wish you all the success in
your designs, and have ordered a Public
Fast, and Prayers to God, for your
success through all their dominions ;
and beg it of your Highness not to ven
ture your life and person unnecessarily,
for though their navy and their army
be the very sinews of their State, your
person is more considerable to them
than both.

2. Diary of Sir John Reresby. (Pub
lished in London, Longmans, 1875.)
August 25, 1 688.
I carried my wife and daughter to
Windsor to wait on the Queen. The
Court was in some trouble and the
King [James II] out of humour (though
he was always of so even a temper that
it was hard to discover it) at the news
of the Dutch having set out a great fleet
as designed against us, that the French
and the Dutch were to fall out, and
that we were pressed on both sides to
declare speedily which to take. This,
considering our affairs at home — viz.
the jealousies about religion, violent
discontents about the army, and the ill
time to call a Parliament to get money,
did reasonably enough disturb our
councils. The King the first thing he
did was to declare that he would call a
Parliament to meet the 27th of Novem
ber following, and gave several reasons
for it in Council, relating to the good
and satisfaction of the nation, more
than the apprehension that he seemed
to have for the Dutch. . . .
October 10.
The news of the Prince of Orange
increased daily, as to his great fleet
ready to sail.
. . . Upon some discourse with the
said Earl (Danby) at the dean's house,
the 15th of October, he used these
expressions: "We are in ill condi
tion now in this nation all ways, for
if the King beat the prince, popery will
return upon us with more violence than
ever. If the prince beat the King, the
Crown and the nation may be in some
danger." All of which was not alto
gether untrue.

1 82 The Coming of William and Mary

October 17th.
... It was very strange, and a cer
tain forerunner of the mischiefs that
ensued upon this invasion, that neither
the gentry nor common people seemed
much afraid or concerned at it, saying,
"The prince comes only to maintain
the Protestant religion — he will do
England no harm." On the other
hand it was suggested from Court that
he aimed at the Crown, and the Dutch,
who assisted him, at the trade, of Eng
land. And the truth is, his own dec
laration when it came, which was a
little before he landed himself, seemed
suspicious enough ; for it set forth all
the grievances of the nation with great
aggravations — as the King's intention
to subvert the Government both in
Church and State ; that he intended to
root out the Protestant religion, to
which purpose he had set up the dis
pensing power with the laws ; had
moulded all the charters to his own
mind, to the end he might have such
members of Parliament chosen as he
desired ; had examined and pre-
engaged such as he intended for mem
bers in the matter of taking off the test
and the penal laws ; and had, chiefly,
put a feigned or supposititious Prince
of Wales upon the nation, only to
promote popery, and to defeat the
Prince and Princess of Orange of their
right of succession.

3. Extracts from Burnet. 1688.
. . . The prince desired me to go
along with him as his chaplain, to
which I very readily agreed : for being
fully satisfied in my conscience that the
undertaking was lawful and just, and
having had a considerable hand in advis
ing the whole progress of it, I thought
it would have been an unbecoming
fear in me to have taken care of my

own person, when the prince was ven
turing his, and the whole was now to
be put to hazard. It is true, I being a
Scotish man by birth, had reason to
expect, that, if I had fallen into the
enemies hands, I should have been sent
to Scotland, and put to the torture there.
And, having this in prospect, I took
care to know no particulars of any one
of those who corresponded with the
prince. So that knowing nothing
against any, even torture it self could not
have drawn from me that by which
any person could be hurt. ... At
last, on the nineteenth of October, the
prince went aboard, and the whole
fleet sailed out that night. But the
next day the wind turned into the
north, and settled in the north-west.
At night a great storm rose. We
wrought against it all that night, and
the next day. But it was in vain to
struggle any longer. And so vast a
fleet run no small hazard, being
obliged to keep together, and yet not to
come too near one another. On the
twenty-first in the afternoon the signal
was given to go in again : and on the
twenty second the far greater part got
safe into port. Many ships were at
first wanting, and were believed to be
lost. But after a few days all came
in. . . .
On the first of November, O. S., we
sailed out with the evening tide. . . .
On the third we passed between Dover
and Calais, and before night came in
sight of the Isle of Wight. . . . Tor-
bay was thought the best place for our
great fleet to lie in : and it was resolved
to land the army, where it could be
best done near it; reckoning, that being
at such a distance from London, we
could provide ourselves with horses,
and put everything in order before the
King could march his army towards us,
and that we should lie some time at
Exeter for the refreshing our men. I

The Coming of William and Mary 183

was in the ship, with the prince's other
domestics, that went in the van of the
whole fleet. ... A soft and happy
gale of wind carried in the whole fleet
. . . into Torbay. . . . As soon as the
prince and marshal Schomberg got to
shore, they were furnished with such
horses as the village of Broxholme
could afford ; and rode up to view the
grounds, which they found as conven
ient as could be imagined for the foot
in that season. It was not a cold night :
otherwise the soldiers, who had been
kept warm aboard, might have suffered
much by it. As soon as I landed, I
made what haste I could to the place
where the prince was ; who took me
heartily by the hand, and asked me, if
I would not now believe predestina
tion. I told him, I would never forget
that providence of God, which had ap
peared so signally on this occasion.
He was cheerfuller than ordinary.
Yet he returned soon to his usual grav
ity. . . . All that belonged to us was
so soon and so happily landed, that by
the next day at noon we were in full
march, and marched four miles that
night. We had from thence twenty
miles to Exeter. . . . The prince made
haste to Exeter, where he stayed ten
days, both for refreshing his troops,
and for giving the country time to shew
their affections. Both the clergy and
magistrates of Exeter were very fearful,
and very backward. The bishop and
the dean ran away. And the clergy
stood off, though they were sent for,
and very gently spoke to by the prince.
. . . Yet care was taken to protect
them and their houses every where : so
that no sort of violence or rudeness was
offered to any of them. The prince
gave me full authority to do this : and
I took so particular a care of it, that we
heard of no complaints. . . . We
stayed a week at Exeter, before any of
the gentlemen of the country about

came in to the prince. . . . One regi
ment came over in a body, and with
them about a hundred of the other two.
This gave us great courage ; and shewed
us, that we had not been deceived in
what was told us of the inclinations of
the King's army. . . . The King
wanted support : for his spirits sunk
extremely. His blood was in such fer
mentation, that he was bleeding much
at the nose, which returned oft upon
him every day. He sent many spies
over to us. They all took his money,
and came and joined themselves to the
prince. . . . And the body of the na
tion did every where discover their in
clinations for the prince so evidently,
that the King saw he had nothing to
trust to but his army. And the ill dis
position among them was so apparent,
that he reckoned he could not depend
on them. So that he lost" both heart
and head at once.

4. Extracts from Reresby. November 22.
The day being come and the fatal
one, I would not go to the common
hall [in York, of which he was gov
ernor. — Ed.] where the meeting was
appointed. Nor, indeed, was I very
able, being ill bruised by my horse
falling upon me as I came from home ;
but I heard that, amongst about 100
gentlemen that met, Sir Henry Good-
ricke spoke to this purpose, that there
having been a great endeavour by the
Government to bring popery into this
kingdom of late years, and to invade
the laws many ways, that there was no
way to redress grievances of this and
other natures but by a free Parliament ;
and therefore this was the only time to
petition the King for it. . . . When
such a draft was finished as Sir Henry
and his party approved of, though
many that disliked it went away, they

184 The Coming of William and Mary

began to sign ; and when Mr. Wortley
Montagu and Sir Henry had done,
before a third man could sign, Mr.
Tankard runs into the hall and cries
that the papists were risen, and had
fired at the militia troops. At this all
the gentlemen ran out, and those that
were privy to the design got their
horses, which were laid ready for
them, as Sir Henry Goodricke, Mr.
Wortley Montague, Mr. Tankard, My
Lord Danby, who was ready in his
lodging expecting this feigned alarm,
my Lord Dumblane, his son, my Lord
Willoughby, two Mr. Berties, my Lord
Lumley, my Lord Horton, and several
others, who made a party with their
servants of a hundred horse, well
armed and well mounted, rode up to
the four militia troops drawn up for
another purpose, and cried for a free
Parliament, the Protestant religion and
no popery. The captains of these four
troops were Lord Fairfax, Sir Thomas
Gower, Mr. Robinson, and Captain
Tankard, who, being made privy to
the design only the night before, but
men ready enough in their tempers for
such "an action, complied, and led all
their men to join with them. The first
step they made was to the place where
the guard of the standing company was
kept, consisting of about twenty men,
which they surprised, before I had the
least notice or jealousy of such an at
tempt, nor believing it possible that
men of such quality and estates, how
ever dissatisfied, would engage in a
design so desperate, and so contrary to
the laws of the land and the religion
which they professed. As soon as I
heard of it I sent for the officers and
the guard, but found it was surprised.
I then sent to every captain to bring his
troop to me as the King's governor, as
also to the other guard of foot of the
militia, who all denied to march or to
obey orders. I then sent for my horses,

and as I was preparing to go to the
troops, hoping to regain them to the
King's service if I appeared, Sir Henry
Bellasis, who had commanded a regi
ment in Holland under the prince, and
lurked long here in Yorkshire for his
service, drew up a party of thirty horse
before my door, and there prevented
my going out, till my lord of Danby
with his chief companions, came up to
me. My lord told me that to resist was to
no purpose ; that he and these gentle
men were in arms for a free Parlia
ment, and for the preservation of the
Protestant religion and the government,
as by law established, which the King
had very near destroyed, and which the
Prince of Orange was come to assist
them to defend, and that he hoped I
would join them in so good a design.
I told him I was for a Parliament and
the Protestant religion as well as they,
but I was also for the King. He re
plied that he was so too, and therefore
he hoped that as we agreed in princi
ples so we should agree in action. I
told his lordship that, though we agreed
in the matter, I could not agree with
them in the manner. I did not con
ceive anything ought to be exacted
from the King by any manner of force,
and that particularly, having his Maj
esty's commissioner of governor and
for his service, I could not join with
those that acted against his authority
and commission, let the consequence
be what it would. He then said he
must imprison me. I told him I was
naked, and my friends had relinquished
the King's service and me, and I was
in his power. After they had consid
ered together, he told me he knew me
to be a man of honour, that my en
gagement not to stir nor write was as
good a restraint upon me as a guard or
a prison. So I was only confined upon
honour to my room, recommending,

The Coming of William and Mary 185

however, to me to consider of his offer.
After this the same day they secured
all the gates, set strong guards upon
them, and suffered none to go in or out.
November 26th.
Having made it my request to the
Earl of Danby that I might have leave
to be prisoner at my house in the coun
try, where I would engage not to act,
but to acquiesce and abide a true pris
oner, he sent for me to come and dine
with him. At my coming he told me,
that I might eat my dinner the better
upon the said terms, I should have
leave to go where I pleased.

5. Letters from an unknown Corres
pondent to John Ellis, Esq., at Dublin.
(In Ellis, Series II. Vol. IV. p. 157.)
London, Nov. 23rd, 16SS.
I had yours of the 23rd past and
thank you in the name of the Kingdom
for the quiet repose you promised us
this winter ; but by the last Easterly
wind you would find we are not to
¦enjoy such sweet sleeps as you wish us,
for the Army 27000 strong will be able
to offer battle by Tuesday next on Salis
bury Plains, and our imperial Monarch
at the head of them, where my person
(amongst his faithful subjects) intend
to stick by him. I am like to be well
paid for my pains, but cannot at this
instant tell the value, but it is no part
of the reason of my going : though I
can (to my sorrow) say why milk-asses
are provided for. . . . 27. Nov.
Yesterday between four and five of
the clock the King came to Whitehall,
and looks very well. We hear by some
¦of his company that Prince George, the
Dukes of Grafton . . . and very many
others of note are gone to the Prince of
Orange's army . . . but what is at
least as bad news as this, is, that yes

terday morning when the Princess of
Denmark's (James's daughter, later
Queen Anne) women went to take her
out of her bed they found she had with
drawn herself, and hath not yet been
heard of. Nobody went in her com
pany that we hear of besides Lady
Churchill and Mrs. Berkeley.

6. Letter left behind by Princess
Anne for the Queen. In Ellis, p. 166.)
Madam : I beg your pardon if I am
so deeply affected with the surprising
news of the Prince's (of Denmark)
being gone as not to be able to see you,
but to leave this paper to express my
humble duty to the King and yourself ;
and to let you know that I am gone to
absent myself to avoid the King's dis
pleasure, which I am not able to bear,
either against the Prince or myself : and
I shall stay at so great a distance as not
to return before I hear the happy news
of a reconcilement : and, as I am con
fident the Prince did not leave the King
with any other design than to use all
possible means for his preservation, so
I hope you will do me the justice to
believe that I am incapable of follow
ing him for any other end. Never
was any one in such an unhappy con
dition, so divided between duty and af
fection to a father and an husband ; and
therefore I know not what I must do,
but to follow one to preserve the other.
I see the general falling off of the nobil
ity and gentry, who avow to have no
other end than to prevail with the King
to secure their religion, which they saw
so much in clanger by the violent coun
sels of the Priests, who, to promote
their own religion, did not care to what
dangers they exposed the King.
I am fully persuaded that the Prince
of Orange designs the King's safety
and preservation, and hope all things
may be composed without more blood
shed, by the calling of a Parliament.

1 86 The Coming of William and Mary

God grant an happy end to these
troubles, that the King's reign maybe
prosperous, and that I may shortly
meet you in perfect peace and safety ;
till when, let me beg of you to continue
the same favorable opinion that you
have hitherto had of
Your most obedient daughter
and servant
Anne.
Reresby' s Memoirs- — cotttinued.
December i.
I got to Thrybergh with my horses
and arms without any disturbance, and
I thank God I left York without any
clamor or reflection upon me in the
least in the matter of my command.
December 3rd.
Kingston-upon-Hull — that consider
able garrison, and looked upon as one
of the strongest in England, both for
the citadel, its situation and number of
men — was surprised by Mr. Copley,
lieutenant governor . . . and the sol
diers joining in the treachery, they
declared for the Prince, and the Protes
tant religion, giving immediately notice
to the gentlemen at York what was
done. If such places as this revolted,
it was no wonder that York could not
be kept. ... In that part of York
shire where I lived very few gentlemen
continued firm to the King ; nor, indeed,
in any part of the North of England.

7. Letter of Lord Dartmouth to
James II. (In nth Report of Royal
MSS. Commission, Appendix 5.)
Dec. 3, 1688. Aboard the
Resolution at Spitthead.
. ... As ... a faithful servant
subject and councellor, I beg leave to
advise you and to give you my humble
opinion that sending away the Prince
of Wales without the consent of the
nation is at no time advisable, and
therefore the doing it at this time es

pecially, and that to France, being what
I dread will be of fatal consequence to
your person, crowne and dignity, and
all your people will (too probably)
grow so much concerned at this your
great mistrust as to throw off their
bounden allegiance to you, which God
forbid ; wherefore, pray, Sir, consider
farther on this weightie point, for can
the Prince' s being sent to France have
other prospect then the entaileing a
perpetuall warre upon your nation and
posterity, and giving France always a
temptation to molest, invade, nay haz
ard the conquest of England, which I
hope in God never to see, but that we
may have this prince of your own loines
to rule over us. . . . Pardon me, there
fore, Sir, that I most earnestly implore
you not to make me the unhappy in
strument of so apparent ruine to your
Majestie, and my countrey as an act of
this kinde will be. . . .
Letters to John Ellis — continued.
Dec. n, 1688.
Dear Friend : I am now to tell you
that the Queen and Prince of Wales
went down the River yesterday morn
ing, and 'tis believed gone for France,
and the King- went this morning about
the same time ; I hear hardly anybody
with him. God preserve him in health.
But here all people are wondering.
The Prince of Orange will be in Ox
ford this night. The people in the city
are searching all Roman Catholic houses
for arms and ammunition : and this day
they are about the Strand and other
places. The Duke of Northumberland
has put out all Papists out of his Troop
of Guards, and so they say they will
out of all the army. The King' s party,
which I hear was Colonel Butler's dra
goons, and the Prince's, had a skirmish.
'Tis said about fifty of the King's were
killed. . . . This night I was fright
ened with the wonderful light in the

The Coming of William and Mary 187

sky, and 'twas the rabble had gotten
the wainscot and seats of a Popish
Chapel in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and set
it on fire in the middle of it. Until we
knew what it was we guessed it to be a
great fire. Here is a very great guard,
both militia and the army. You will
hear very suddenly all declaring for the
Prince of Orange. . . . My wife and
all in St. James's send hearty service
to you. I hope I may see you in the
Spring. God send us a good meeting.
Dec. 13, 168S.
. . . On Tuesday night there was an
alarm, occasioned by burning the Pa
pist's Lincoln's Inn Field's Chapel;
they did the like to the Chapels of St.
John's Clerkenwell, and Lime-street,
but not easily breaking into the latter,
cried they would down with it, were it
as strong as Portsmouth, and, accord
ingly, having levelled them, they car
ried all the trumpery in mock proces
sion and triumph, with oranges on the
tops of swords and staves, with great
lighted candles in gilt candlesticks, thus
victoriously passing of the Guards that
¦were drawn up. And after having be
queathed these trinkets to the flames,
they visited Harry Hill's Printing
House, which they served in like man
ner. But, what is most ungrateful,
their execution reaching to the Spanish
Ambassador's house, which they plun
dered of all its rich furniture, plate,
money, and three coaches, to the value
as is computed of £20,000. . . . The
King is said to have left a Paper behind
him directed to the Earl of Feversham,
for him to disband the army, which his
Lordship read at the head of most regi
ments, and accordingly disbanded them,
some with, others without their arms,
and it is dismal to think what will be
come of such vast numbers of poor
wretches, if the Prince's mercy and the
people's compassion be not extraordi

nary. . . . The Prince is expected in
town to-morrow. About two this
morning an alarm was spread through
city and suburbs, of Rise, Arme, Anne,
the Irish are cutting throats ; in so much
that in half an hour's time there was
an appearance of above an hundred
thousand men to have made head
against any enterprise of that nature ;
all the windows of the houses being
lighted with candles from top to bot
tom ; but these terrors were quickly
over, upon notice that the Prince of
Orange's advance-guard was near the
town.Lord Dartmouth to Lord Feversham. Dec. 14.
I received your Lordship's and can
not wonder at the consternation your
Lordship is in, for my owne heart has
been allmost breaking. Oh God, what
could make our master desert his king
doms and his friends, certainely nobody
could be so villainous as to hurt his
person ; it cannot be the effect of his
owne thoughts, but of womanish or
timorous councells. God Almighty
protect him and direct him to happier
measures. I am sure his owne heart
cannot meane him better than I do. . . .
I and my family are the miserablsst
creatures His Majestie hath left behind.
I am worthy nobody's thoughts, but
tho' I am unfortunate yett I am, etc.
Lord Dartmouth to James II.
Dec. 17.
It is impossible for me to express the
griefe and anxious cares I am in for
your Majestie, and the newes of your
withdrawing was the greatest surprise
of my life, for I did humbly hope my
dutyfull supplications to your Majestie
would with your owne considerate
thoughtes have wholly altered your
intentions of sending away the Prince
of Wales, and did thinke it impossible

1 88 The Coming of William and Mary

ever to enter into anybody's thoughts
that had the least inclination of duty to
your Majestie to give you so pernicious
and destructive council as to go away
yourselfe, and if your Majestie had
been drove to such a desperate course
(which was morally impossible, at least
in my thoughts) as to absent yourselfe,
Sir, could you have been with more
honour and safety [any where than in]
your owne fleet, who would always
unanimously (I dare say) have pro
tected and defended your sacred person
from any violence or unhallowed hands.
But this looks like so great mistrust of
me that many could witness it hath
almost broke my heart.
Your Majestie knows what condition
you left the fleet in, and me in the most
unsupportable calamity of my ife what
¦could I do but send to the Prince of
Orange when I found the whole nation
did, and receive orders from the Lords
which were communicated to the fleet
and removed all Roman Catholic Offi
cers. I have had yett no returne from
the Prince of Orange, but I hope all
will end in your Majestie' s happy re-
establishment. Mr. Pepys will ac
quaint your Majestie with the state of
the fleet. Letters to John Ellis. Dec. 18.
. . . Last night the King went off
from Court, and this day about three
o'clock the Prince arrived at St. James's
with great acclamations of joy and
huzzas. The Gentleman that writeth the
News Letters being indisposed desires
to be excused for writing not this day.
Dec. 20th.
The Prince of Orange remains at St.
James's, where no great business were
done yesterday by reason of paying
and receiving visits ; only a regiment
was sent to possess themselves of the

Tower ; most of the Bishops about
the town were with his Highness; the
Duke of Norfolk came and paid his
devoirs. The Prince in the afternoon
went to Whitehall, and from thence,
in the Queen's barge, to Somerset
House to compliment the Queen
Dowager. In his return hearing that
the Prince and Princess of Denmark
were come to town, he called to see
them at the Cock-pit. . . .

8. Letter of James II. to the Lords
Spiritual and Temporal. (In the 12th
Report, 6th Appendix, of the Royal
MSS. Commission.) Rochester, Dec. 22nd, 1688.
My Lords . . . The world cannot
wonder at my withdrawing myself now
this second tyme. I might have ex
pected somewhat better usage after
what I writ to the Prince of Orange by
my Lord Feversham and the instruc
tions I gave him. But instead of an
answer what was I not to expect after
the usage I receaved by making the
said Earl a Prisoner against the Prac
tice and law of nations ? The sending
his own guards at eleven at night to
take possession of the Posts at White
hall without advertizing me in the least
manner of it. The sending to me at
one a 'clock after midnight, when I was
in bed, a kind of an order by three Lords
to be gone out of myne own Palace
before twelve that same morning. After
all this, how could I hone to be safe,
so long as I was in the power of one,
who had not only done this to me, and
invaded my kingdomes without any just
occasion given him for it, but that did
by his first declaration lay the greatest
aspersion upon me that malice could
invent in that clause of it which con
cerns my son? I appeal to all that
know me, nay even to himself that in
their consciences neither he nor they
can beleeve me in the least capable of

The Coming of William and Mary 189

so unnatural a villany, nor of so little
common sense. . . .
What had I then to expect from one
who by all arts hath taken such pains
to make me appear as black as hell to
my own people as well as to all the
world besydes? What effect that hath
had at home all mankind have seen by
so general a defection in my army, as
well as in the nation amongst all sorts
of people.
I was born free and desire to con
tinue so, and though I have ventured
my lyfe very frankly on severall occa
sions, for the good and honour of my
country . . . yet I think it not con
venient to expose myself to be secured
so as not to be at liberty to effect
it. . . . Letters to John Ellis. Dec. 29th.
. . . The King landed on Tuesday
morning near Marques and went post
to Paris on Wednesday. I cannot see
who your government will fall to ; 1
think neither our friend nor the pert
pretender. ... I know not what will
be my lot, but I am vain enough to
think in a general bustle I shall shift
for one. You will pardon me that I
say no more. Reresby's Memoirs. January 22nd.
I went to Mansfield, and the next
day went thence for London in the
hackney coach. When I arrived I
found London much changed. The
guards and other parts of the army,
which both in their persons and gal
lantry were an ornament to the town,
were sent to quarter ten miles off, and
the streets were filled with ill-look
ing and ill-habited Dutch and other
strangers of the prince' s army ; and yet
the city was so pleased with their de
liverers that thev did not or would not

perceive their deformity, nor the op
pression they lay under, which was
much greater than what they felt from
the English army. . . . Feb. 3rd.
I saw the Duke of Somerset, the
Earl of Burlington, the Earl of Scars-
dale and some other lords who had all
been active to bring in the prince,
speak in another strain. Some said
the thing was gone further than they
expected, others that they never be
lieved the prince would contend for the
crown ; and all were of opinion the-
crown ought to be set on the princess' s
head, and so to descend in its right
course. The Earl of Scarsdale told
me the Princess of Denmark was very
sensible what a mistake she had com
mitted in leaving her father to join the
prince, who was now endeavoring to
invade her right, and to get priority of
succession before her.

9. Extracts from Evelyn.
Jan. 15th, 1688-9.
The greate Convention [of bishops]
being assembled the day before, falling-
upon the question about the Govern
ment, resolved that King James having
by the advice of the Jesuits and other
wicked persons endeavour' d to subvert
the laws of Church and State, and
deserted the kingdom, carrying away
the seals etc. without any care for the
management of the government, had
by demise abdicated himself and wholly
vacated his right ; they did therefore
desire the Lords concurrence to their
vote, to place the crown on the next
heir, the Prince of Orange, for his life,
then to the Princesse his wife, and if
she died without issue, to the Prin
cesse of Denmark, and she failing, to
the heirs of the Prince, excluding for
ever all possibility of admitting a
Roman Catholic.

190 The Coming of William and Mary

Feb. 6th.
The King's coronation day was
ordered not to be observed, as hitherto
it had ben.
The Convention of the Lords and
Commons now declare the Prince and
Princess of Orange King and Queene
of England, France, and Ireland,
(Scotland being an independent king
dom,) the Prince and Princesse being
to enjoy it jointly during their lives,
but the executive authority to be vested
in the Prince during life, tho' all pro
ceedings to run in both names, and that
it should descend to their issue, and for
want of such, to the Princesse Anne
of Denmark and her issue, and in want
of such, to the heirs of the body of the
Prince if he survive, and that failing,
to devolve to the Parliament as they
should think fit. . . . There was much
contest about the King's abdication, and
whether he had vacated the govern
ment. The Earle of Nottingham and
about twenty Lords, and many Bishops
entered their protests, but the concur
rence was greate against them.
The Princess hourly expected.
Forces sending to Ireland, that king
dom being in greate danger by the
Earle of Tyrconnell's army, and
expectations from France coming to
assist them, but that King was busy
in invading Flanders, and encounter
ing the German Princes. It is likely
that this will be the most remarkable
summer for action, which has hap
pened for many years.
Reresby. Feb. nth.
. . . The oaths of allegiance and
supremacy were then desired by the
Houses to be suppressed, and these two
were framed to be taken in their stead :
" I, A. B., do sincerely promise and
swear that I will be faithful and bear
true allegiance to their Majesties King

William and Queen Mary. So help
me God." For the second, thus : —
" I, A. B., do swear that I do from
my heart abhor, detest, and abjure as
impious and heretical that damnable
doctrine and position that princes
excommunicated or deprived by the
Pope or any authority of the see of
Rome, may be deposed or murdered,
by their subjects or any other whatso
ever ; and I do declare that no foreign
prince, person, prelate or state hath,
or ought to have any jurisdiction,
power, superiority, pre-eminence or
authority, ecclesiastical or civil, within
this realm. So help me God."
April nth was the day of the
coronation of King William and Queen
Mary, performed with great splen
dor according to the usual ceremo
nies. The procession to the abbey
of Westminster was very regular, but
not attended by so many of the nobility
as when the two last kings were
crowned. The House of Commons
were taken great care of in this solem
nity, had a side of Westminster Hall
prepared for them to see it, another
place in the abbey to see their Majesties
crowned, and several tables prepared
and covered with all sorts of meat,
where they dined by themselves. Only
some friends were admitted amongst
them, and I amongst others, which
gave me a good opportunity to see and
observe all. The Bishop of London
crowned the King and Queen, assisted
by the Bishop of Salisbury (the late
Dr. Burnet), who preached the Coro
nation sermon, and by two others. May 5 th.
. . . The next day I was to go to
Hampton Court to meet his lordship,
to present me to the King before I
went into the country ; and he repeated
his promises of doing for me what he
could, but said it was discretion to let

The Coming of William and Mary 191

two or three months pass before I
pressed the thing too much, to see
what became of things.
(On the 12th of May, Sir John
Reresby died.) Evelyn. Feb. 2 1 st, 1688-9.
Dr. Burnett preach' d at St. James's
on the obligation to walk worthy of
God's particular and signal deliverance
of the Nation and Church.
I saw the new Queene and King
proclaim' d the very next day after her
coming to Whitehall, Wednesday 13
Feb., with greate acclamation and gen
erall good reception. Bonfires, bells,
guns, etc. It was believ'd that both,
especially the Princesse, would have
shew'd some (seeming) reluctance at
least, of assuming her father's Crown,
and made some apology, testitying by
her regret that he should by his mis
management necessitate the Nation to
so extraordinary a proceeding, which
would have shew'd very handsomely
to the world, and according to the
character given of her piety ; conso
nant also to her husband's first declara
tion, that there was no intention of
deposing the King, but of succouring
the Nation ; but nothing of all this
appear'd; she came into Whitehall
laughing and jolly, as to a wedding,
so as to seem quite transported. She
rose early the next morning, and in her
undresse, as it was reported, before her
women were up, went about from
roome to roome to see the convenience
of White-hall ; lay in the same bed
and apartment where the late Queene
lay, and within a night or two sate
downe to play at basset, as the Queene,
her predecessor, used to do. She
smil'd upon and talk'd to everybody,
so that no change seem'd to have taken
place at Court since her last going
away, save that infinite crowds of peo
ple throng' d to see her, and that she

went to our prayers. This carriage
was censur'd by many. She seems to
be of a good nature, and that she takes
nothing to heart ; whilst the Prince
her husband has a thoughtful counte
nance, is wonderfull serious and silent,
and seems to treat all persons alike
gravely, and to be very intent on af
faires : Holland, Ireland and France
calling for his care.
Divers Bishops and Noblemen are
not at all satisfied with this so sudden
assumption of the Crown, without any
previous sending, and offering some
conditions to the absent King ; or, on
his not returning, or not assenting to
those conditions, to have proclaim' d
him Regent ; but the major part of
both Houses prevail' d to make them
King and1 Queene immediately, and a
Crowne -was tempting.
Extract from Burnet. 1688.
All things were now made ready for
filling the throne. And the "very night
before it was to be done, the princess
arrived safely. It had been given out,
that she was not well pleased with the
late transaction, both with relation to
her father, and to the present settle
ment. Upon which the prince wrote
to her, that it was necessary she should
appear at first so cheerful, that nobody
might be discouraged by her looks, or
be led to apprehend that she was un
easy by reason of what had been done.
This made her put on a great air of
gaiety when she came to Whitehall, and,
as may be imagined, had great crowds
of all sorts coming to wait on her. I
confess, I was one of those that cen
sured this in my thoughts. I thought
a little more seriousness had done as
well, when she came into her father's
palace, and was to be set on his throne
next day. I had never seen the least
indecency in any part of her deport-

192 The Coming of William and Mary

ment before : which made this appear
to me so extraordinary, that some days
after I took the liberty to ask her, how
it came that what she saw in so sad a
revolution, as to her father's perspn,
made not a greater impression on her.
She took this freedom with her usual
goodness. And she assured me, she

felt the sense of it very lively upon her
thoughts. But she told me, that the
letters which had been writ to her had
obliged her to put on a cheerfulness, in
which she might perhaps go too far,
because she was obeying directions,
and acting a part which was not very
natural to her.

GROUP XXI.

THE STUARTS IN EXILE.

1. Letters of Madame de Sevigne.
Vol. 7. (Edition in English, London,
181 1. The passages in brackets from
the latest French Edition.}
Paris, Nov. 8, 1688.
This is the day, my dear child, on
which you are to begin your journey ;
we follow you step by step. . . . The
chevalier is much better. It is painful
to reflect that the weather which agrees
with him, is precisely what may de
throne the King of England ; whereas
he suffered dreadfully a few days ago,
when the wind and tempests were dis
persing the fleet of the prince of
Orange : he is unhappy at not being
able to make his health accord with the
good of Europe ; for the sentiment of
joy is universal at the failure of the
prince, whose wife is a perfect Tullia :
ah, how boldly would she drive over
the body of her father ! She has em
powered her husband to take possession
of the kingdom of England, of which
she calls herself the heiress ; and if her
husband is killed, for her imagination
is not very delicate, M. de Schomberg
is to take possession of it for herself.
What say you to a hero, who so sadly
disgraces the close of a glorious life ?
He saw the admiral's ship sink in
which he was to have embarked ; and
as the prince and he were the last in
following the fleet, which was under
weigh in the finest weather possible,

they were obliged, by a tremendous
storm that suddenly arose, to return to
port, the prince being very much indis
posed with his asthma, and M. de
Schomberg as much vexed. Only
twenty- six sail returned with them : the
rest were all dispersed, some towards
Norway, others towards Boulogne.
... A vessel armed en flute, in which
were nine hundred men, sunk in sight
of the prince of Orange. ( ?) In short,
the hand of God is visible on this fleet :
many ships may return, but it will be
long before they will be able to do any
mischief. . . . This is certainly a
stroke of Providence. I need not say
so much to you of this great news, for
the papers are full of it ; but as we are
so too, and as we can talk of nothing
else, it flows naturally from my pen.
Paris, Jan. 10, 1689.
The abbe Tetu is in an alarming
way for want of sleep. . . . We want
him to go to Versailles to see the king
and queen of England, and the prince
of Wales. Can there be a grander
spectacle, or one more capable of
affording the highest interest? It
appears that the prince of Orange
favoured the king's flight. The king
was sent to Exeter, where it was his
intention to go ; the front of his house
was well guarded, and all the back
doors left open. The prince was not

Mart Beatrix Qukkn or England
S C 0 T L A N 1) F R A N ( ! I ' A N 1) 1 R E I A N 1>
Born Pkin<k,,s dk Mchuna

The Stuarts in Exile

193

inclined to sacrifice his father-in-law ;
he remains in London in the place of
the king, without taking upon himself
the title, being only desirous of restor
ing what he thinks the true religion,
and supporting the laws of the country,
without spilling a drop of blood : this
is precisely the reverse of what we
thought of him ; we see him in a very
different point of view. Our king
however acts in a manner almost
divine with respect to their Britannic
majesties ; for is it not being the repre
sentative of the Almighty, to support a
king banished, betrayed, and aban
doned? The noble ambition of our
sovereign is gratified by acting this
part ; he went to meet the queen, with
all his household, and a hundred
coaches and six. When he perceived
the prince of Wales's carriage, he
alighted and [would not let this little
child, who is beautiful as an angel,
they say, dismount ; he] affectionately
embraced him ; he then ran to the
queen, who was by this time alighted ;
he saluted her, talked with her some
time, placed her at his right hand in
his carriage, and presented the dauphin
and Monsieur to her, who were also in
the carriage, and conducted her to St.
Germain, where she found everything
prepared for her like a queen, all sorts
of apparel, and a rich casket containing
six thousand louis-d'ors. The king of
England was expected the next day at
St. Germain, where the king waited
for him ; he arrived late [because he
came from Versailles] : his majesty
went to the end of the guard-room to
meet him ; the king of England made
an inclination, as if to embrace his
knees, but the king prevented him and
embraced him three or four times very
cordially. They talked together in a
low voice for nearly a quarter of an
hour; the king presented the dauphin
and Monsieur to him, the princes of

the blood, and cardinal de Bonzi. He
conducted him to the queen's apart
ment, who could scarcely refrain from
tears ; after a conversation of a few
minutes his majesty led them to the
apartment of the prince of Wales,
where they again conversed for some
time, and he then withdrew, not choos
ing to be attended back, saying to the
king, "This is your house; when I
come you will do the honours of it, and
I will do the honours of mine when
you come to Versailles." The next
day, which was yesterday, the dau-
phinness went there with all the
court. [I know not how they will
have managed with the chairs for the
princesses; they had them at the wed
ding of the Queen of Spain] ; and the
queen-mother of England was treated
as a daughter of France ; I shall [find
out and] send you these particulars.
His majesty sent the king of England
ten thousand louis-d'ors, the latter
looks old and fatigued ; the. queen is
thin, with fine black eyes swelled with
weeping ; a fine complexion but rather
pale ; a large mouth, beautiful teeth, a
fine figure, and a great share of sense ;
no wonder if with all these she pleases
every one who beholds her. Here
[.my sweet one] is matter for general
conversation that will not soon be
exhausted. . . . Jan. 1 2th, 1689.
. . . To come to the king and queen
of England. It is so. extraordinary to
have this court here, that it is the con
stant subject of conversation. The
regulation of rank and precedency is
to be attended to, in order to render
life agreeable to those who are so un
likely to be restored. This the king
said the other day, adding, that the
English king was the best man in the
world ; that he should hunt with him ;
that he should come to Marli and Tri
anon ; and that the courtiers should

194

The Stuarts in Exile

habituate themselves to him. The
king of England does not give his
hand to the dauphin, and does not
reconduct him. The queen has not
kissed Monsieur, who is offended at
this; she said to the king, "Tell me
what you wish me to do ; if you would
have me follow the French fashion, I
will salute whom you please ; but it is
not the custom in England to salute
any one." She paid a visit to the
dauphiness, who was ill, and who re
ceived her in bed. No one sits in
England ; I believe the duchesses will
follow the French fashion, and behave
to her as they did to her mother-in-law
[Henrietta Maria]. We are greatly
taken up with this new court. . . .
Jan. 14th, 1689.
. . . Madame de Maintenon is much
pleased with the comedy which she has
made her young ladies of St. Cyr
perform ; it will be a very fine piece
according to report. She has paid a
visit to the Queen of England, who,
having made her wait a moment, said
she was very sorry she had lost any
time in seeing and conversing with
her, and received her extremely well.
Every one is pleased with this queen ;
she has an excellent understanding.
She said to the king, on seeing him
caress the prince of Wales, who is a
lovely child, "I formerly envied the
happiness of my son, in not feeling his
misfortunes; but I now pity him, for
being insensible to your majesty's ca
resses and kindness." All she says is
proper and to the purpose ; but this is
not the case with her husband : he has
a great share of courage, but his un
derstanding is not above the common
standard ; he relates what has passed
in England with an insensibility that
excites the same feeling for himself.
He is a good man [" what a good
man," said the Archbishop of Rheims ;
" he has given up three kingdoms for

one mass." — Ed, J, and partakes of all
the amusements of Versailles. The
dauphiness does not intend to visit this
queen ; she wants her right-hand seat
and chair of state, which cannot be ;
she will therefore be always in bed,
when the queen visits her. Madame
is to have an arm-chair upon the left
hand, and the princesses of the blood
are to visit with her ; before whom
they have tabourets only. The duch
esses will be upon the same footing
as at the dauphiness's ; this is settled.
The king, knowing that a king of
France gave a prince of Wales only
a chair on the left hand, chooses that
the king of England should treat the
dauphin in the same manner, and.pre-
cede him. He is to receive Monsieur
without chair or ceremony. The queen
has saluted him, saying to our sover
eign what I told you. It is not yet
certain that M. de Schomberg is to
succeed the prince of Orange in Hol
land. This is a year of falsehoods. . . .
Jan. 17, 1689.
This English court is quite estab
lished at St. Germain. They would
not accept more than 15,000 livres a
month, and have regulated their court
upon that foundation. The queen is
very much liked ; our king converses
very pleasantly with her ; she has good
sense without affectation. The king
wished the dauphiness to pay her the
first visit, but she was always so con
veniently indisposed, that this queen
paid her a visit three days ago, ad
mirably dressed ; a black velvet robe,
a beautiful petticoat, her hair tastefully
disposed, a figure like the princess de
Conti's, and great dignity of manner.
The king received her as she alighted ;
she went first into his apartment where
she had a chair below the king's; here
she remained half an hour; he then
conducted her to the dauphiness, who
was up ; this occasioned a little sur-

The Stuarts in Exile

195

prise; the queen said to her, "I
expected to have found you in bed,
madam." "I wished to rise, madam,"
replied the dauphiness, " to receive the
honour your majesty does me." The
king left them, as the dauphiness has
no chair in his presence. The queen
took her place, with the dauphiness on
her right hand, Madame on her left,
and there were three other chairs for
the young princes. They, conversed
together for upwards of half an hour ;
several duchesses were present, and the
court was very numerous. At length
she retired ; the king gave orders to
be informed of it, and handed her back
to her carriage. I do not know how
far the dauphiness went with her, but
I shall hear. The king, upon his re
turn, highly praised the queen ; he
-said, "This is how a queen ought to
be, both in person and mind, holding
her court with dignity." He admired
her courage in misfortunes, and her
affection for her husband ; for it is
certain, that she loves him, as that hate
ful woman, madame de R., told you.
Some of our ladies, who wished to
assume the airs of princesses, did not
kiss the queen's robe, some of the
•duchesses wished to avoid it also ; but
the king was displeased at this, and
they now pay her homage. Madame
¦de Chaulnes has been informed of these
particulars, but has not yet performed
this duty. She left the marquis at
Versailles, the young gentleman being
very highly amused there ; he has in
formed his uncle that he should go
to-day to the ballet. . . . Jan. 26.
I am . . . truly of opinion, that the
king and queen of England are better
off at St. Germain, than in their perfidi
ous kingdom. The king of England
calls M. de Lauzun his governor ; but
he governs no one else, and is not much
in favour. Their majesties have only

accepted of what the king would have
given them, fifty thousand livres a
month, and will not live like sovereigns ;
many English are come over to them, or
they would not have accepted so much ;
in short, they wish to pursue a plan that
may last. They have reminded me of
my dear romances ; but a little intrigue
is wanting. Jan. 31, 1689.
Madame de Chaulnes has seen the
queen of England, with whom she is
greatly pleased ; the little prince was
dressed like a puppet ; he is handsome
and lively, and is continually dancing in
his nurse's arms: these are the truly
happy days of infancy. The histories
which we read over again on account of
this event, are replete with the perfidy
of the people. The prince of Orange is
not quite at his ease in London, there
being three parties : that of the king
and the bishops which is very weak ;
that of the prince of Orange, which is
very strong ; and a third consisting of
republicans and non-conformists. All
Ireland is in the interest of the king ; he
would have done well to have escaped
thither • he is not so much liked as the
queen. He calls M. de Lauzun his
master ; the master stands in great need
of one himself. . . . Feb. 2nd, 1689.
. . . The queen of England seems
more inclined, if it pleased God, to
reign in the beautiful kingdom of Eng
land, where the court is numerous and
splendid, than to be at St. Germain,
though overwhelmed with the heroic
bounties of our monarch. As to the
king of England, he seems contented
there, and it is for that reason he is
there. Extract from the Memoirs of James
II. (In Macpherson, Original Papers,
Vol. I. p 257.)
I thank thee O God, for all the
favours which thou hast done me ; and

196

The Stuarts in Exile

particularly for having saved me from
the hands of the rebellious parricides,
who put to death the King, my father.
. . . For having re-established the King
my brother in his kingdoms, and for
having recovered me from the small
pox, which some years before had
carried off some of the royal family.
For having given me such good health
and patience to suffer so many injuries,
. and for having preserved me till now
from all the snares of my enemies. For
having touched my heart with a true
sense of my past sins and a regret for
them ; a favour which I beseech God to
continue to me ; and to augment in me
day by day a detestation of my faults.
And above all I thank God for having
opened my eyes and converted me to the
true church.
I humbly acknowledge that I have
justly deserved all the afflictions and
mortifications which it hath pleased
God to send upon me ; and that I would
deserve still greater, considering the
magnitude and multitude of my sins.
Ala dame de Sevigne. Feb. 23, 1689.
. . . That madman, the prince of
Orange, is elected king, and has been
crowned : the contrary report prevailed
a week ago ; but thus it is with the
English. Feb. 25, 1689.
. . . The King of England [James]
is going over to Ireland ; this, at least,
is the report : but I vouch for nothing
this year ; it is the harvest of lies. . . .
Feb. 28.
... It is certain that the king of
England set out this morning for Ire
land, where he is expected with im
patience : he will be better there than
here. He will traverse Britany with
the swiftness of lightning ; and go
straight to Brest, where he will find

marshal d'Estrees, and ships and frigates
ready : he takes with him 50,000 crowns.
The King has given him sufficient arms
for 10,000 men. As his Britannic
majesty took leave, he said with a smile,
" That arms for himself were the only
things that had been forgotten:" our
king gave him his : the heroes of
romance never did anything more gal
lant than this action. What will not
this brave but unhappy king do, with
arms that have ever been victorious?
Behold him then with the casque and
cuirass of Rinoldo and Amadis, and all
our most celebrated knights errant ; I
will not say of Hector, for he was un
fortunate. There is not an offer that
can be suggested, that our king has not
made him ; generosity and magnanimity
have been carried to their height. M.
d'Avaux is to go with him ; he set out
two days ago. You will ask why M.
de Barillon was not the person. The
reason is, that M. d'Avaux, being per
fectly acquainted with the affairs of
Holland, will be more useful than he
who is acquainted only with those of
England. The queen has shut herself
up at Poissi with her son : she will be
near the king, and the fountain-head of
intelligence. She is overwhelmed with
grief, and suffers from a nephritic com
plaint, that makes it feared she has the
stone : she is really to be pitied. You
see, my dear child, it is the rage of talk
ing, that makes me write all this ; the
chevalier and the gazette will give you
better information than I can do. . . .
The King of England yesterday in
vested M. de Lauzun with the order of
the garter; a kind of oath was read,
which constitutes the ceremony ; the
king placed his collar on the other side
of ours, and a St. George, that he had
from the late King his father, which is
set with diamonds, and worth at least.
10,000 crowns. While the King of
England was at Mademoiselle's, M. de

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The Stuarts in Exile

197

Lauzun went to Madame de la Fayette's
with this ornament ; Madame de la
Fayette gazed at the blue ribbon, and
as she knew he had not that of France,
she did not comprehend this masquer
ade ; she was silent upon the subject
and so was he. At length he began to
laugh, and told her what had passed.
The King of England, must, however,
think himself obliged to him, since he
treats him so well. . . . The Irish busi
ness goes on admirably, and so com
pletely occupies the prince of Orange,
that there is nothing to fear upon our
coasts. . . . March 2, 1689.
. . . The chevalier will inform you
what our King said to the King of
England at his taking leave : " Sir, it is
with grief I see you depart ; yet I never
wish to see you again : but if you
return, be assured you will find me the
same as you leave me." Could any
thing better have been said ? He has
loaded him with everything great and
small ; two millions of money, ships,
frigates, troops, officers, and M. d'
Avaux, who makes, upon the occasion,
one of the most brilliant figures in the
world. ... I now come to the minu
tiae, such as toilets, camp-beds, services
of plate, plain and gilt, arms for his
person, which are the King's ; arms for
the troops in Ireland, and those who go
with him, who are very numerous ; in
short, generosity, magnificence, and
magnanimity, were never so strikingly
displayed as upon this occasion. The
King is not willing that the queen
should go to Poissi ; she will see very
little company ; but the King will take
care of her, and she will receive news
¦without intermission. The parting of
the King and queen of England rent
the hearts of all the spectators ; nothing
"but tears, sighs, lamentations, and
swoonings were to be seen or heard,

which is very easy to be comprehended.
Such is his destiny ; he has a good
cause ; he is the protector of the true
religion, and his courage will allow him
no other alternative than conquest or
death. . . . M. d'Avaux . . . has the
care of the troops and the finances ; in
short, he is the soul of the undertaking,
and the man in whom all confidence is
placed. March 4, 1689.
M. de Lauzun has refused, it is said,
to go to Ireland with the King of Eng
land, but he has hinted, that he 'might
be induced to go, if he were created a
duke. ... I doubt whether this sort
bargaining may not be detrimental to
M. de Lauzun. . . . March 30.
. . . We hear that the King of Eng
land is arrived in Ireland, where he was
received with transport. The prince
of Orange is so much afflicted with an
asthma, that all the troops he raises
desert, thinking he is going to die :
seven regiments have left him to go
into Scotland. For my part, I am per
suaded that the King of England, with
God's assistance, will overcome all his
enemies, and dispel all the clouds that
seem ready to burst upon us.
Burnet. 1689.
. . . One accident happened this
summer, of a pretty extraordinary na
ture, that deserves to be remembered.
A fisherman, between Lambeth and
Vauxhall, was drawing a net pretty
close to the channel ; and a great
weight was, not without some diffi
culty, drawn to the shore, which, when
taken up, was found to be the great
seal of England. King James had
called for it from the Lord Jefferies,
the night before he went away, as in
tending to make a secret use of it, for
pardons or grants. But it seems, when

198

The Stuarts in E^cile

he went away, he thought either that
the bulk or weight of it made it incon
venient to be carried off, or that it was
to be hereafter of no more use to him :
and therefore, that it might not be made
use of against him, he threw it into the
Thames. The fisherman was well re
warded, when he brought the great seal
to the King : and by his order it was
broke. Extract from LuttreW s Diary.
(London, 1859. Vol. II. p. 71.) 1690.
. . . The letters from Ireland bring,
that our army upon the ist instant forced
the passages of the river [the Boyne] and
[has] given the enemy [James II.] an
entire defeat, killing above 3,000 Irish,
with little losse on our side, considering
the great disadvantage our men had in
passing the river, the enemy standing
upon a hill to receive our men as they
came out of the water. . . . King
James did not engage at all in this ac
tion (as King William did, who was up
and down in the hottest of the action,
to encourage his men and urge them
forward by his own example, not to be
affraid to venture where he thought iitt
to expose himself,) but was upon a hill
at some distance ; and when he saw how
it went, he retired to Dublin . . . de
claring he would never trust an Irish
army more. July 11.
. . . Tis said when King James went
away, he bid his army to shift for them
selves and make the best terms they
could. 3. Letter of Matthew Prior to the
Earl of Halifax. (In Ellis. Original
Letters of Eminent Literary Men.
Camden Society. London, 1843.)
Paris, 30-20 August, 1698.
My good Lord and Master, I have
written one letter to you to congratu
late you on your honours, one to con

dole with you, another to dunn you,
and here is a fourth to thank you. . . .
The King of Spain's health is the
weatherglass upon which all our poli
ticians look ; as that rises or falls we
look pleasant or uneasy. I am glad to
tell you that I think France is as much
afraid he should dye as we can be. . . .
This court is gone to see their mon
arch a cock-horse at Compeigne ; I fol
low as soon as my English naggs arrive
and I shall a little have settled my Lord
Jersey. I faced old James and all his
court the other day at St. Cloud ; vive
Guillaumel You never saw such a
strange figure as the old bully is, lean,
worn and riv'led, not unlike Neale the
projectour ; the Queen looks very mel
ancholy, but otherwise well enough;
their equipages are all very ragged and
contemptible. Adieu, Master; nobody respects the
Chancellor of the Exchequer more or
loves dear Mr. Montagu better than his
old friend and obliged humble servant,.
Mat.

3. Letters of Mr. Vernon to the Duke
of Shrewsbury. (In Letters illustrative
of the Reign of William III. Ed. G.
P.R.James. London, 1841. Vol. II.
p. 197.) Oct. 15, 1698.
I had a latter from Prior yesterday.
. . . He hears that King James and his
Queen are highly caressed at Fontain-
bleau ; that the chief court was made to
Queen Mary, every body being at her
toilet in the morning ; that the King of
France comes thither to lead her to
chapel ; that at meals the Queen is
placed between the two Kings at the
upper end of the table, and equal
marks of distinction and sovereignty are
paid to all three, and a boire pour le
Roi d' Angleterre, ou, pour la Peine,
is spoken out as loud, and with as much
ceremony, as for the King of France.

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The Stuarts in Exile

199

Oct. 22nd.
I believe I shall take up a non-juring
parson to-day, who deals in policies of
insurance upon King James's restora
tion. He pays a guinea to receive fifty,
if King James, or his son, be restored
on the throne by Michaelmas next.

4. The Death of James II., by an
anonymous contemporary. (In Mac-
pherson, Original Papers, Vol. I, p.
589.) 1701 A. D.
The King publickly, and by name,
forgave all his enemies. He had often
declared, that he was more beholden to
the prince of Orange than to all the
world besides. The King of France
came to wait upon him. He lighted at
the castle gate, as others did, to prevent
the noise of coaches from disturbing
him. Just before he expired, he men
tioned by name, with a loud voice, the
prince of Orange, the princess of Den
mark, and the Emperor ; and said he
wished they might be aquainted that he
forgave them all. The King of France,
the third time he came to see the King,
declared he would own the prince of
Wales King of England. He had hesi
tated long. The dauphin, the duke of
Burgundy, and all the princes thought
it unbecoming the dignity of the crown
of France, not to own the title of the
prince of Wales. He first acquainted
the Queen, then the Prince, of his reso
lution. He came, at last, to the King's
bed-side. "Sir," said he, "I am
come to see how your Majesty finds
yourself to-day." But the King not
hearing, made no reply. Upon which,
one of the servants telling him, that the
King of France was there, he rouzed
himself and said, "Where is he?"
Upon which the King of France re
plied, " Sir, I am here, and I am come
to see how you do?" The King
thanked him for all his favours. His
most Christian Majesty replied, "Sir,

what I have done is but a small matter,
I have something to acquaint you with
of greater consequence." The King's
servants began to retire. " Let nobody
withdraw," said the King of France.
" I am come, Sir, to acquaint you, that
whenever it shall please God to call
your Majesty out of this world, I will
take your family into my protection,
and will treat your son, the prince of
Wales, in the same manner I have.
treated you, and acknowledge him, as
he then will be, King of England."
All that were present, whether French
or English, burst at once into tears, ex
pressive of a mixture of joy and grief.
Some threw themselves at his most
Christian Majesty' s feet. All seemed so
much affected, that the King of France
himself burst into tears. The King of
England was endeavouring to say some
thing. But the confused noise was so
great, and he so weak, that he could
not be heard. The King of France
went away. But as he passed, he
called the officer of the guard, and de-
siredhim to treat the prince of Wales
as King, whenever his father should
expire. The next day, the King was some
thing better. The prince of Wales
was permitted to see him, which he
was not often suffered to do ; it being
observed, that when he saw him, it
raised such a commotion in him, as
was thought to do him harm. When
he came into the room, the King
stretching forth his arms to embrace
him, said "I have not seen you since
his most Christian Majesty was here,
and promised to own you when I%hould
be dead. I have sent my lord Middle-
ton to Marly, to thank him for it."
He was taken next day with continual
convulsions and shaking in his hands;
and, on the day following, being the
sixteenth of September, he expired.

200

The Stuarts in Exile

5. Letter of the Pretender to Queen
Anne. (Macpherson, Original Papers,
Vol. II. p. 223.) May, 171 1.
Madam : The violence and ambition
of the enemies of our family, and of the
monarchy, have too long kept at dis
tance those who, by all the obligations
of nature and duty, ought to be more
firmly united ; and have hindered us
from the proper means and endeavours
of a better understanding between us,
which could not fail to produce the
most happy effects to ourselves, to our
family and to our bleeding country.
But whatever the success may be, I
have resolved now to break through all
reserve, and to be the first in an
endeavour so just and necessary. The
natural affection I bear you, and that
the King our father had for you, till
his last breath, the consideration of our
mutual interest, honor and safety, and
the duty I owe to God and my country,
are the true motives that persuade me
to write to you, and to do all that is
possible for me to come to a perfect
union with you.
And you may be assured, Madam,
that though I can never abandon, but
with my life, my own just right, which
you know is unalterably settled by the
most fundamental laws of the land :
yet I am most desirous rather to owe
to you, than to any living, the recovery
of it. It is for yourself that a work so
just and glorious is reserved. The
voice of God and nature calls you to it ;
the promises you made to the King our
father enjoin it ; the preservation of
our family, the preventing of unnatural
wars require it ; and the public good
and welfare of our country recommend
it to you, to rescue it from present and
future evils ; which must, to the latest
posterity, involve the nation in blood
and confusion, till the succession be
again settled in the right line.

I am satisfied, Madam, that if you
will be guided by your own inclina
tions you will readily comply with so
just and fair a proposal as to prefer
your own brother, the last male of our
name, to the duchess of Hanover, the
remotest relation we have, whose
friendship you have no reason to rely
on, or be fond of, who will leave the
government to foreigners of another
language, of another interest, and who,
by the general naturalization, may
bring over crowds of his countrymen
to supply the defect of his right, and
enslave the nation. . . .
And now, Madam, as you tender
your own honour and happiness, the
preservation and re-establishment of
our ancient royal family, the safety and
welfare of a brave people, who are
almost sinking under present weights,
and have reason to fear greater ; who
have no reason to complain of me, and
whom I must still, and do love as my
own : I conjure you to meet me in
this friendly way of composing our
difference, by which only we can hope
for those good effects which will make
us both happy ; yourself more glorious
than all the other parts of your life,
and your memory dear to all posterity.

6. Letter from a warm Adherent to
one of the Pretender's Suite. (Mac
pherson II. 304.) April 22, 1712.
If I did not know the King's affairs
perfectly well, your fears would have
cast me to the gates of death. . . .
All his friends are earnest for his
changing his lodgings, and rejoice he
is to leave France. I confess it strikes
a damp sometimes upon me ; but I
must submit to his lawyers, who know
best what he is to do. . . . O ! what
is my dear angel doing at this time?
He represents himself always to me as
my blessed saviour. Men and angels

The Stuarts in Exile

201

cannot tell the heart I bear to him. I
hope God will pity me and preserve
him. ... I hope you are to go with
him to his new house, and pray God
for it : it will put me out of all my
senses, if I do not often hear of you
and from him. And, to be sure,
nobody will be so kind and so careful
as I now find you are. I thank you
ten thousand times. For God's sake
continue it to me. Is he not my all on
¦earth? It is like a mill-stone about my
neck to keep me from writing him. . . .
I have no eyes in my head, but that
which looks like red blood. . . . When
I had yours of the 3rd, I was for com
ing to see him, and roared and cried I
would do it . . . but E. M-r. [the Earl
of Mar] told me, the world could not
save my life, I would die before I was
two days journey. I said if I died
coming back I did not care, but I was
sure I would not die in the going ; the
joy to see my dear angel would sup
port me. . . .
 J- M.
7. Letter of the Pretender to Louis
XIV. (Macpherson II. p. 385.)
Chalons-sur-Marne, Feb. iS, 1713.
Sire : What terms shall I employ
to express my gratitude to youi
Majesty, before I leave the asylum
which you have been pleased to grant
me, almost ever since I was born, and
which you do not permit me to leave,
but in order to procure for me another
more suitable, in the present state of
your affairs and of my own ? Words
fail me, to express how my heart is
penetrated, by the remembrance of
your Majesty's beneficence and former
kindness towards me. The care you
are now pleased to take of me, and of
whatever concerns me, crowns the
whole, and encourages me, in the sad
situation I am in, from the confidence
I have in a generosity 'that has no

example, for its continuance. . . .
When I have assured your Majesty of
my most sincere and fervent wishes for
your prosperity and happiness, I have
nothing to say, but to conjure your
Majesty to be thoroughly persuaded,
that you will always find in me the
respect, attachment, and, if I can pre
sume to say, the tenderness of a son, a
will always ready, not only to follow,
but even to go before in all things,
during the time of my exile; and if I
shall ever see myself restored to my
dominions, a faithful ally, who will
make it his glory and his happiness to
concur with the first designs of a King,
who does honour to royalty. [The
dread of this "concurrence" was the
chief ground for keeping the Pretender
out.— Ed.]
Al. Alartinez to Al. Robethon.
(Macpherson II. p. 583.)
Paris, March 23, 1714.
One of my intimate friends, who
was, about two months last autumn,
with the Chevalier de St. George [the
Pretender] arrived here four days ago.
He speaks very favourably of him.
The prince spoke to him with great
confidence, and did not conceal from
him the good understanding between
him and the Queen. He has news of
her frequently from the English who
come and return for that purpose. He
reckons that all the Scots are undoubt
edly in his interest. . . .
The Chevalier told the person in
question what was said to him by a
quaker, who was much spoke of some
time ago, and who came from England
on purpose to see him. He said to
him, when he entered the room,
"Good-day, James, the spirit desired
me to come to thee, to tell thee that
thou shalt reign over us, and we all
wish it. I come to tell thee, if thou
hast need of money, we will give thee

202

The Stuarts in Exile

amongst us from three to four mil
lions." The prince wanted to make
him some present ; but he did not
choose to take any, and went back
directly to England. The prince made
him eat at his own table.

8. Letter from an English Traveller
at Rome to his Father. (In Clarendon
Hist. Soc. Reprints, ist Series, p.
235-) Rome, ye 6th of May, 1721.
Sir : . . . After my arrival hear I
received your letter of ye 15 th of Feb-
ruy by which you reminded me of
your commands at my Departure to
avoid conversing with ye Pretender or
any of his dependents. I must own,
that notwithstanding my Inbred dislike
to his pretensions, and my confirmed
aversion for his profession, I often
found my curiosity inclining me to be
so farr acquainted with his person and
carracter, that I might be able to say
from my own knowledg, what sort of
man he is, who has made and dayly
makes so great a noise in England.
[He has attempted three invasions. —
Ed.] . . . My regard to your special
commands was always an over balance
to my curiosity until perfect chance
ordain' d the contrary. . . .
About a month ago . . . we became
acquainted with an English Gentle
man, . . . his name was Dr. Cooper
a priest of ye Church of England,
whom we did not suspect to be of ye
Pretenders retinue. . . . On Ester Eve
he made us the complement, that as
he proposed us bred in ye profession
of the said church, he thought it in
cumbent upon him to invite us to
Devine service (next day being Ester
Sunday) . Such language at Rome
apeard to me a jest ; I staid at the
Doctor who added that the Pretender
who he call'd King had prevaild with
the late Pope to grant licences for

having Divine service according to the
rules of the Church of England per
formed in his Palace, for the Benefit
of the Protestant Gentlemen of his
suite . . . and that prayers were as
orderly hear as at London. I should
have remained of St. Thomas belief
had not I been aware that this is
matter of fact, and as such have noted
it down amongst the great wonders of
Rome. This was the occasion of my
first entrance into ye Pretenders house ;,
I became familiar with both the Doc
tors, who are sensible well bred men.
I put several questions to them about
ye Pretender and if creditt can be
given them they ashurd me he is an
upright morall man, very far from any
sort of Begottry and most avers to
Disputes and distinctions of Religeon,
whereof not a word is admitted in his
family ; they described him in his per
son very much to the resemblance of
King Charles ye II., to which they
say he aproches every day more and
more ; with a great application to-
business and a head well turnd that
way. . . . Some days after my Friend
and I went to take the evening air in
the stately Park called Villa Ludovici ;
there we met on a sudden face to face
with the Pretender, his princess and
Cort. We were so very close, before
we understood who they were, that
we could not retreat with decency;
common civility obliged us to stand
sideways in the Ally, as others did to
lett them pass by. The Pretender was
easily distinguished from the rest by
his Starr and Garter, as well as by an
air of greatness which discovered a
Majesty superiour to ye rest. I felt in
that instant 01 his aproach a strong
convulsion of body and mind, such as
I was never sensible of before ; whether
Aversion, Awe or Respect occasiond it,
I cant tell. I remarked his eyes fixt
upon me, which I confess I could not

The Stuarts in Exile

203

bear. I was perfectly stunnd and not
aware of myself when persuant to what
the standers by did, I made him a
Salute ; he returned it with a Smile,
which changd the sedateness of his
first aspect into a very graceful coun
tenance ; as he past by I observed him
to be a well siz'd clean limbd man.
I had but one Glimpse of the prin
cess, which left me a great desire of
seeing her again, however my friend
and I turned off into another ally,
to reason at leasure on our severall
observations ; there we mett Doctor
Cooper and after making some turns
with him the same company came
again in our way. I was grown some
what bolder and resolvd to lett them
pass as before, in order to have a full
view of ye Princess. She is of middle
stature well shapd and has lovejy fea
tures, while Vivacity and Mildness of
temper are painted in her lookes.
When they came up to us the Pre
tender stood and spoke a word to the
Doctor ; then looking at us he asked
him if we were English Gentlemen ;
he asked how long we had been in
Town and whether we had any ac
quaintance in it : then told us he had
a house, where English Gentlemen
would be very welcome. The Prin
cess who stood by addressed to the
Doctor in the prettiest English I think
I ever heard, said, "Pray, Doctor, if
these Gentlemen be lovers of Musick
invite them to my concert to-night : I
charge you with it," which she accom-
panyd with a Salute, and a smile in
the most Gracious Manner.
It was a very hard task, Sir, to recead
from the honour of such an Invitation
given by a Princess who altho married
to the Pretender deserves so much
respect in regard to her person, her
name and family. However we argued
the case with the Doctor and represented
the strict orders we had to the Contrary.

He replyd, there could be no prohibition
to a Traveller against Musick even at
the ceremonies of the Roman Cath.
Church, yt if we missed this occasion of
seeing this assembly of Roman Nobility
we might not recover it again whilst we
staid in Rome and that it became
persons of our age and degree to act
always the part of Gentlemen without
regard to party humours.
These arguments were more forcible
than ours, so we went and saw a bright
Assembly of the prime Roman Nobility,
the Consort composd of the best Musi-
tians of Rome, a plentifull and orderly
Colation servd : But the courteous and
affable manner of our Reception was
more taking than all the rest. We had
a general Invitation given us whilst we
staid in Town and were desired to use
that Palace as our own. Hence we
were Indispensably obligd to make a
visitt every day in order to return thanks
for so many Civilitys receavd : those are
things due to a Turk.
We were admitted without Cere-
monie ; the Pretender entertained us on
the subject of our families as Knowingly,
as if he had been all his life in England ;
he told me some passages of my Grand
father and of his being a constant lover
of King Charles ye I. and II. and added
that if you, Sir, had been of Age before
my Grandfathers death to learn his
principles there had been little danger
of your taking party against the Rights
of a Stuart. . . .
I told him I was surprizd at his so
perfect Knowledg of our Families in
England. His answer was, that from
his Infancy he had made it his business
to acquire the Knowledg of the Laws,
customs, and Families of his Country so
as he might not be reputed a stranger
when the Almighty pleasd to Call him
thither. Those and the like discorses held
until word was brought, that dinner was

204

The Stuarts in Exile

servd. We endeavourd all we could to
withdraw but there was no Possibility
for it, after he had made us this Com
plement : "I ashure you Gentlemen I
shall never be for Constraining any
mans Inclinations ; however, our Grand
fathers, who were worthy people, Dind
often together and I hope that there can
be no fait found that we do the same."
There is every day a regular Table of
Ten or Twelve Covers wel servd, unto
which some of the Qualyfyed persons
of his Cort or Travelers are Invited :
Its supplyed with English and French
Cookery, French and Italian wines, but
I took notice that the Pretender eat only
of the English dishes and made his Din
ner of Roast Beef, and what we call
Devonshire Pye. . . . He is as free and
cheerful at his Table as any man I know.
He spoke much in favour of our English
Ladies, and said he was persuaded, he
had not many enemies amongst them.
The Princess with a smiling counte
nance, took up the matter, and said, " I
think then Sir it would be but Just, that
I drink to the Cavaliers."
Sometime after ye Pretender began a
Health to ye prosperity of all Friends in
England which he addressed to me. I
took the freedom to reply that, as I pre
sumed he meant his own friends he
would not take it ill that I meant mine.
"I ashure you Sir, said he, that the
friends you mean can have no great
share of prosperity till they become
mine, therefore hears prosperity to
yours and mine."
After we had sat and drank very
heartily, the Princess told us we must
go to see her Son, which could not be
refusd. He is realy a fine promising
Child, and is attended by English
women, mostly protestant, which the
Princess observd to us, saying that as
she believd he was to live and Dye
among protestants, she thought fitt to
have him bred up by their hands; and

that in the Country where she was
born, there was no other Distinction,
but that of honest and dishonest.
These women, and particular, two
Londoners kept such a racket about us
to make us kiss the young pretenders
hand that to get clear of them as soon
as we could, we were forced to Comply.
The Princess laught very heartily and
told us shee question' cl but the day
would come that we should not be
sorry to have made so early acquaint
ance with her Son. I thought myself
under a necessity of making her a
Complement that Being Hers he could
not miss of being good and happy.
On the next post day we went as com
monly the English Gentlemen hear do,
to the Pretenders house for news. . . .
He bemoaned the misfortune of Eng
land, * [and] . . . lamented the ill
treatment and disregard of the Ancient
Nobility. . . . " Some ma)' imagine,"
continued he, " that these Calamities are
not displeasing to me because they may
in some measure turn to my Advantage.
I renounce all such unworthy Thoughts.
The love of my Country is the first
principle of my worldly wishes and
my heart bleeds to see so brave and
honest a people distressed and misled
by a few wicked men and plunged into
Miseries almost Iretrievable." There
upon he rose briskly from his Chair
and expressed his Concern with fire in
his Eyes.
[After a heated discussion on reli
gion, in the course of which the Pre
tender says that he has been warned by
his Father's fate and that " all cleargy-
men not authorized by the statutes of a
nation out (ought) to be confined to
the bare dutys of there profession"],
I thought it full time to take leave, and
break off the conversation, as I per-
ceave it [to be] to finish this long
letter. I own I am not sorry to have

^WlLHELMUS BY DER GRATIE GODTS
Prince van Oraengien. Grave van Nassau, sec. .marquiz
van Veere,en Vlissingen,&c. Baron van Breda Gotjver ',
neur over Geedereandt, Holeandt, Zeeeandt,^West;
vrieseandt,8£c. generaee vande ruyterte .
Is Getcyckettt aide Gejn&dm, door CrJpyn van, Qwboorm, .
Ahf Van^VaesbergenExcAmfterdam.

The Stuarts in Exile

205

contented so far my curiosity and that
were he not the Pretender I should like
the man very wel. We should truly
pass much of our time in dullness, had
we not the diversion of his hous, but I
will give you my word I will enter no
more upon arguments of this kind with
him ; for he has too much witt and
learning for me : besides that he speaks
with such an air of sincerity that I am
apprehensive I should become - half a
Jacobite, if I should continue following
these discourses any longar.
I crave the favour of your blessing
etc.

9. Extract from the Memoirs of
Dutens. (London, 1806, Vol. 5,
P- 35-)
The Abbe Fabroni, rector of the

University of Pisa, assured me that, at
the commencement of the American
war, he had seen letters from the Bos
tonians to the Pretender, inviting him
to come and put himself at their head.
[This was the young Pretender,
whose baby hand we have just seen
kissed by the doubting Englishmen at
Rome. Bold and daring he had headed
the uprising of 1745, had won the
battles of Preston Pans and Falkirk,
only to lose all on Culloden Moor.
He died in 17S8. — Ed.] I knew that
the Duke de Choiseul had a design to
send that Prince to America in the year
1760; but I cannot help doubting
whether such determined republicans
as the Bostonians would have wished
to have a prince of the House of Stuart
for their Chief.

GROUP XXII.

CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS OF WILLIAM AND MARY.

1. A Tract on William III. (Som
ers' Tracts, Vol. XII. p. 3S2.)
[Sir Walter Scott calls this tract,
which was published soon after the
king's death, " a favourable, but by no
means a partial, account of the life of
the great monarch to whom it refers."
—Ed.] Though fortune might seem a step
mother to this prince, by depriving him
of a father before scarce a human soul
had been breathed into the infant, yet
she abundantly made amends for that
unkindness by the prudence and indul-
gency of his mother, eldest daughter
of King Charles I., who, by means of
the blood from whence she sprung, not
only conveyed to him a prospect of at
taining to three kingdoms, but also, by
the care she took ot his education, she
formed his soul worthy of the crowns

he was destined by Providence to
wear. . . .
His education was consistent with
the manners of the country where he
was educated ; the methods prescribed
him by those that had the honour of
his tuition were solid and severe ; noth
ing gay or glittering was seen in his
court, or the conversation of those per
sons who were entrusted with the man
agement of his tender years.
His mind adjusted itself to the admo
nitions of his tutors, and produced a
temper serious and thoughtful, quite
averse from the usual gallantries
practised in the more refined and polite
courts, as they stiled themselves, of
Europe, He was never a mighty scholar him
self, nor did he much affect learning, or
the charms of a witty conversation ;

206

Traits of William and Mary

such as were masters of those qualities
were seldom employed by him . . .
and this maybe truly said of him, with
out injustice to his memory, that he
was a much greater king, but noth
ing so fine a gentleman as his uncle
[Charles II..]. . . .
He never had many favourites, and
it was well for England that he had no
more than two. The first of these was
Monsieur Bentinck, now Earl of Port
land, who obtained his esteem and
friendship by one of the most gener
ous actions imaginable.
This young gentleman was page to
the Prince of Orange, and much of the
same age with his master. It hap
pened, that the prince was taken ill of
the small-pox, which not rising kindly
upon him, his physicians judged it nec
essary that some young person should
lie in the same bed with the prince,
imagining, that the natural heat of an
other would drive out the disease, and
expel it from the nobler parts. No
body of quality could be found in all
the court to make this experiment ; at
last, Monsieur Bentinck, though he had
never had the small-pox, resolved to
run the risque ; he did so, the prince
recovered, his page fell ill, and, in a
little time, had the happiness to find
himself in a healthy condition, and as
well as his master. Ever after this
action of Monsieur Bentinck' s, which
was truly great and noble, the prince
had an entire affection for so faithful a
servant, and particularly trusted him
in affairs of the highest consequence.
Though his highness commanded the
army of the States very young, when
he was scarcely seventeen, . . . yet he
behaved himself with greater vigilance,
prudence, and conduct, than could be
reasonably expected of him at that time
of day. . . .

Though severe and reserved in the
cabinet, yet, in the camp he was fiery
to a fault, and often exposed himself,
and the cause he defended, with a rash
ness, blameable in an officer of his
dignity. . . .
He never shewed so great a reserv-
edness, nor, indeed, a greater piece of
wisdom, than upon his marriage with
the Lady Mary, eldest daughter of the
late King James : She was a princess
who, for her beauty, good humour,
sense and piety, had no equal in Eu
rope. Her zeal for the protestant re
ligion was surprising in a lady of her
youth, and what did not a little add to
her shining qualities was her being pre
sumptive heiress to three kingdoms.
The people of England were infinitely
desirous this match should take effect ;
and King Charles persuaded the world
he had the! same inclinations, but pri
vately insinuated to the prince, that his
making a peace, and his inducing the
Spaniards to do the same, upon such
terms as his Brittanick Majesty proposed
(which terms, in truth, were too fa
vourable to the French) were the only
means his highness had to obtain the
lady. Here was love and glory in op
position to one another ; but the prince,
under these extraordinary circum
stances, shewed an unchangeable tem
per, and a mind impregnable against
the strongest assaults. He assured the
crown of England, that, although he
had the highest veneration for the Prin
cess Mary, yet nothing could make him
recede from the interest of the allies,
and he should always prefer his hon
our to all other considerations whatso
ever. Fortune was just to his virtue ;
he gained his point both ways, and ob
tained the best of princesses for him
self, and those articles of peace he in
sisted upon for his confederates.

Traits of William and Mary

207

Reresby's Memoirs. (London, 1875,
p. S2.) 1670.
The Prince of Orange being at this
time come into England, to pretend to
the Lady Mary, eldest daughter of his
Highness the Duke of York, the King
received him — both on account of his
relation and merit, being a very per
sonable and hopeful prince — with great
splendor. Amongst other of his enter
tainments the King made him drink very
hard one night at a supper, given by the
Duke of Buckingham. The Prince did
not naturally love it, but being once
entered, was more frolic and merry than
the rest of the company; amongst other
expressions of it he broke the windows
of the chambers of the maids of honor.
Tract on William III.
. . . Some persons are of opinion,
that the prince held predestination ; that
it was his judgment all balls were com
missioned, and had their bounds set
them, farther than which they were not
able to go. . . .
His enterprise upon England must be
allowed very just : That step towards
the Revolution, there are but few which
cavil at ; it is true some persons would
have been contented that he had pro
ceeded but little farther, and only tied
up the hands of his unfortunate prede
cessor. But these gentlemen argue very
little like politicians : King James would
have been King James still, and soon,
by the violation of the people's liberties,
returned to that course from whence the
success of the prince's arms had obliged
him to deviate. . . . The prince made
a bridge of gold for King James : he
was taken by his own subjects, and in
a sort of confinement, brought back to
London. That sun, which was dreaded
in the west as bad as death itsself [at the
time of the Bloody Circuit. — Ed.], sets
in a small town, the scorn and mockery
of the rabble.

2. Extracts from Bishop Burnet's
History of his own Times. (Reign of
James II. Oxford, 1852, p. 144.) 1686.
When I came to Utrecht I found
letters writ to me Dy some of the prince
of Orange's Court, desiring me to come
first to the Hague, and wait on the
prince and princess [William and
Mary], before I should settle anywhere.
Upon my coming to the Hague I was
admitted to wait on them. I found they
had received such characters of me from
England, that they resolved to treat me
with great confidence. . . . The prince,
though naturally cold and reserved, yet
laid aside a great deal of that with me.
He seemed highly dissatisfied with the
king's conduct. . . . There was a gravity
in his- whole deportment that struck
me. . . .
The prince had been much neglected
in his education : for all his life long he
hated constraint. He spoke little. He
put on some appearance of application :
but he hated business of all sorts. Yet
he hated talking, and all house games,
more. This put him on a perpetual
course of hunting, to which he seemed
to give himself up, beyond any man I
ever knew : but I looked on that always,
as a flying from company and business.
The depression of France was the
governing passion of his whole life.
. . . He had a way that was affable and
obliging to the Dutch. But he could
not bring himself to comply enough
with the temper of the English, his
coldness and slowness being very con
trary to the genius of the nation.
The princess possessed all that con
versed with her with admiration. Her
person was majestic, and created re
spect. She had great knowledge, with
a true understanding, and a noble ex
pression. There was a sweetness in
her deportment that charmed, and an
exactness in piety and of virtue that

208

Traits of William and Mary

made her a pattern to all that saw her.
The king gave her no appointment
to support the dignity of a king's
daughter. Nor did he send her any
presents or jewels, which was thought
a very indecent, and certainly was a
very ill advised thing. . . . But . . .
she managed her privy purse so well,
that she became eminent in her chari
ties : and the good grace with which
she bestowed favours did always in
crease their value. She had read much
both in history and divinity. And when
a course of humours in her eyes forced
her from that, she set herself to work
with such a constant diligence, that she
made the ladies about her ashamed to
be idle. She knew little of our affairs,
till I was admitted to wait on her. And
I began to lay before her the state of
our court, and the intrigues in it, ever
since the restoration : which she re
ceived with great satisfaction, and
shewed true judgment and a good
mind, in all the reflections that she
made. . . .
That which fixed me in their confi
dence was, the liherty I took, in a
private conversation with the princess,
to ask her what she intended the prince
should be, if she came to the crown.
... I explained King Henry the
seventh's title to her, and what had
passed when queen Mary married
Philip of Spain. I told her, a titular
kingship was no acceptable thing to a
man, especially if it was to depend on
another's life: and such a nominal
dignity might endanger the real one
that the prince had in Holland. She
desired me to propose a remedy. I
told her, the remedy, if she could bring
her mind to it, was, to be contented to
be his wife, and to engage herself to
him, that she would give him the real
authority as soon as it came into her
hands, and endeavour effectually to get
it to be legally vested in him during

life : this would lay the greatest obliga
tion on him possible, and lay the
foundation of a perfect union between
them, which had been of late a little
embroiled. ... I hoped she would
consider well of it : for if she once de
clared her mind, I hoped she would
nevei go back or retract it. I desired
her therefore to take time to think of it..
She presently answered me, she would
take no time to consider of anything by
which she could express her regard and
affection to the prince ; and ordered me
to give him an account of all that I
had laid before her, and to bring him
to her, and I should hear what she-
would say upon it. He was that day
a-hunting : and next day I acquainted
him with all that had passed, and
carried him to her ; where she in a
very frank manner told him, that she
did not know that the laws of England"
were so contrary to the laws of God,
as I had informed her : she did not
think that the husband was ever to be
obedient to the wife : she promised
him, he should always bear rule: and
she asked only, that he would obey the
command of, Husbands love your
wives, as she should do that, Wives
be obedient to your husbands in all
things. . . . He [the prince] said
[afterwards] he had been nine years
married, and had never the confidence
to press this matter on the queen, which
I had now brought about easily in a
day.Letter of the Earl of Argyll to an
unknown Correspondent.
(In nth Report of MSS. Commission,
6th App. p. 1S2.)
May 1 2th, 1689.
. . . Yesterday we disburdened
ourselves of the Crown which was
done in the Bankuetting house with
great solemnitie. The King and
Queen swore the oath; the King him
self swore it with that gravitie and

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Traits of William and Mary

209

seriousnesse that we had never seen ex
pressed in the taking ane oath before.
When he came to that part of the oath
anent rooting out of hereticks he told us
that by it he did not understand himself
oblidged to persecute anie upon the
account of religion and took us three
witnesses upon it.

3. Extracts from the Rutland Cor
respondence. (MSS. Commission,
1 2th Report, Appendix V.)
Frances Russell to Lady Alargaret
Russell. Sept. 29th, 1690.
. . . We have the best neighbours
here of my Lord and Lady Wharton
that ever I had in any place. . . .
Yesterday I found my Lady very much
out of humour fretting at her having
been surprised this day sevnnight by
the Queen, who dined with her with
out giveing her more than an hour and
a half's notice. . . . 'Tis easy to imag
ine what her condition was. There
was notning in the house, nor nothing
that on such a sudden could be got in
the countrey. She sed if she would
have given five pound for a partridge,
'twas not to be had. She had no cook
but a maid. . . . Her steward . . .
was gone a week before, I know not
where. Everything was out of order,
and the Queen whom my Lady had
never seen, was just at the door. . . .
My Lady was fain to make her best
assurance supply the want of every
thing else. There was all the guards
to be fed, and Lords and Ladies to
have a table, besides that for the
Queen. Indeed to heare my Lady
Wharton tell the tragical story would
almost have made one cry ; yet after
all she was very well pleased with the
honour the Queen did her, and believes
Her Majestie will have the goodness to
pardon the disorder of the entertain
ment. . . .

4. Extracts from Burnet.
I now begin, on the first day of May,
1705, to prosecute this work ; and have
before me a reign, that drew upon it an
universal expectation of great things to
follow, from such auspicious begin
nings ; and from so general a joy as
was spread over these nations. . . .
It seemed to be a double-bottomed
monarchy, where there were two joint-
sovereigns ; but those who knew the
queen's temper and principles, had no
apprehensions of divided counsels, or
of a distracted government.
That which gave the most melan
choly prospect was the ill state of the
King's health, whose slay so long at
St. James's without exercise or hunt
ing, which was so much used by him
that it was become necessary, had
brought him under such a weakness,
as was like to have very ill effects :
and the face he forced himself to set
upon it, that it might not appear too
much, made an impression on his
temper. He was apt to be peevish :
it put him under a necessity of being
much in his closet, and of being silent
and reserved. . . . Many studied to
persuade him, it would be necessary
for his affairs to change his way, that
he might be more accessible, and freer
in his discourse. He seemed resolved
on it; but he said, his ill health made
it impossible for him to execute it :
and so . . . he grew more retired, and
was not easy to come at, nor spoke
to. . . . So that the face of a court,
and the rendezvous usual in the public
rooms, was now quite broke. This
gave an early and general disgust.
The gaiety and the diversions of a
court disappeared. And, though the
Queen set herself to make up what was
wanting in the King, by a great vivac
ity and cheerfulness ; yet when it
appeared that she meddled not in busi
ness, so that few found their account in

2IO

Traits of William and Mary

making their court to her, though she
gave a wonderful content to all who
came near her, yet few came.
The King found the air of Hampton
Court agreed so well with him, that he
resolved to live the greatest part of the
year there. . . . This shewed a resolu
tion to live at a distance from London :
and the entering so soon on so expen
sive a building, afforded matter of cen
sure to those who were disposed enough
to entertain it. And this spread a uni
versal discontent in the city of London.
And these small and almost indiscerni
ble beginnings and seeds of ill humour,
have ever since gone on in a very visible
increase and progress. . . . 1689.
. . . Ward, bishop of Salisbury, died
this winter : many spoke to the King in
my favour, without my knowledge.
The King made them no answer. But
a few clays after he was set on the
throne, he of his own motion named
me to that see : and he did it in terms
more obliging than usually fell from
him. . . .
. . . The great mildness of the
King's temper, and the gentleness of
his government, which was indeed
rather liable to censure, as being too
remiss, set people's minds much at
ease . . . and all promised themselves
happy days under so merciful a
prince. . . . 1 69 1.
. . . This was still kept up as a
prejudice against the King and his gov
ernment, that he loved to have a great
army about him ; and that when they
were once modeled, he would never
part with them, but govern in an arbi
trary way, as soon as he had prepared
his soldiers to serve his ends.
Another prejudice had more colour
and as bad effects. The King was
thought to love the Dutch more than
the English, to trust more to them, and

to admit them to more freedom with
him. He gave too much occasion to a
general disgust, which was spread both
among the English officers and the no
bility : he took little pains to gain the
affections ofthe nation ; nor did he con
strain himself enough to render his gov
ernment more acceptable : he was shut
up all the day long ; and his silence,
when he admitted any to an audience,
distasted them as much as if they had
been denied it. The earl of Marlbor
ough thought that the great services he
had done were not acknowledged nor
rewarded, as they well deserved ; and
began to speak like a man discontented.
And the strain of all the nation almost
was, that the English were overlooked,
and the Dutch were the only persons
favoured or trusted. This was national ;
and the English being too apt to despise
other nations, and being of more 'ively
tempers than the Dutch, grew to express
a contempt and an aversion for them
that went almost to a mutiny. 1692.
... In the beginning of September
there was an earthquake felt in most
places in England. ... It had been
happy for us, if such dismal accidents
had struck us with a deeper sense of
the judgments of God.
We were indeed brought to more of
an outward face of virtue and sobriety :
and the great examples that the king
and queen set the nation, had made
some considerable alterations, as to
public practices : but we became deeply
corrupted in principle : a disbelief of
revealed religion, and a prophane mock
ing of the Christian faith, and the
mysteries of it, became avowed and
scandalous. The queen, in the king's
absence, gave orders to execute the laws
against drunkenness, swearing, and the
prophanation of the Lord's day. . . .
Yet the reformation of manners . . .
went on but slowly. . . .

(See page 315.)

Traits of William and Mary

21 1

1694
... I am now coming towards the
fatal period of this book. The queen
continued still to set a great example to
the whole nation, which shined in all
the parts of it. She used all possible
methods for reforming whatever was
amiss : she took ladies off from that
idleness, which not only wasted their
time, but exposed them to many temp
tations ; she engaged many both to
read and to work ; she wrought many
hours a day herself, with her ladies
and her maids of honour working about
her, while one read to them all ; the
female part of the court had been in
the former reigns subject to much
censure ; and there was great cause for
it ; but she freed her court so entirely
from all suspicion, that there was not
so much as a colour for discourses of
that sort. . . .
When I laid all these things together,
which I had large opportunities to
observe, it gave a very pleasant pros
pect. . . . but we soon saw this hope
ful view blasted and our expectations
disappointed in the loss of her. . . .
The small pox raged this winter about
London ; some thousands dying of
them ; which gave us great apprehen
sions with relation to the queen ; for
she had never had them.
In conclusion, she was taken ill, but
the next day that seemed to go off : I
had the honour to be half an hour with
ber that day : and she complained then
¦of nothing. The day following she
went abroad ; but her illness returned
so heavily on her, that she could dis
guise it no longer. . . . Within two
days after the small pox appeared, and
with very bad symptons. . . . [The
King] called me into his closet, and
gave .a free vent to a most tender
passion ; he burst out into tears ; and
cried out, that there was no hope of
the queen ; and that from being the

happiest, he was now going to be the
miserablest creature upon earth. He
said, during the whole course of their
marriage, he had never known one
single fault in her ; there was a worth
in her that nobody knew besides him
self ; though he added that I might
know as much of her as any other
person did. Never was such a face of
universal sorrow seen in a court or in a
town as at this time. . . . She died
on the 28th of December, about one in
the morning, in the 33rd year of her
age, and in the 6th of her reign.
She was the most universally la
mented princess, and deserved the best
to be so, of any in our age or in our
history. I will add no more concern
ing her, in the way of a character : I
have said a great deal already in this
work ; and I wrote a book, as an essay
on her character, in which I have said
nothing, but that which I knew to be
strictly true, without enlargement of
figure or rhetoric. The king's afflic
tion for her death was . . . greater
than those who knew him best thought
his temper capable of : he went beyond
all bounds in it : during her sickness,
he was in an agony that amazed us all,
fainting often, and breaking out into
most violent lamentations. . . . He
turned himself much to the meditations
of religion, and to secret prayer.
A Tract on William III. — conti?iued.
She (Mary) died as unconcerned as
his majesty her husband fought, and
braved the King of Terrors with as
great a resolution on her bed of sick
ness, as he did in the field of battle ;
and certainly that lady's piety or cour
age was the greater, since, as she said
herself to my Lord Archbishop of
Canterbury, she was always prepared
to die, and her royal spouse very often
took the sacrament before a battle.
King William, as it is reported, was

212

Traits of William and Mary

very much concerned at her death ; and,
if he had expressed a more visible
sorrow, the nation would have resented
it still more kindly, who sincerely
mourned the loss of that princess, and
still do upon her memory.
But, though the loss of so good a
princess afflicted King William very
much, yet the peace of Reswick mor
tified him much more : he was obliged
at last, by the murmuring temper of his
subjects, to acquiesce in terms very dis
honourable to Europe, and not over-
glorious to his majesty. By this treaty
of pacification the French were to
retain Luxemburgh and Strassburgh,
those bulwarks of Flanders and the
empire, who, instead of them, were
only to have an equivalent, which, in
fact, was far from the intrinsic value of
those provinces, but, notwithstanding
the inequality of these and other articles,
the conduct of the Duke of Savoy, and
the neutrality of Italy, powerfully per
suaded the allies to put an end to the
war. Soon after the peace, the Partition-
Treaty followed, and, by too much pre
caution, the government involved the
nation in a dreadful war, which, to
their best thinking they endeavoured to
avoid. The Spaniards, who are a
haughty people, so much resented the
intended division of their monarchy,
that their grandees made a will, or in
fluenced their monarch so to do, by
which he devised all his dominions in
Italy, Spain, and the West Indies, to
the House of Bourbon, in the person of
the Duke of Anjou, who, notwithstand
ing the most dreadful imprecations of
his grandfather to the contrary, took
possession of those states and provinces,
by the assistance of that monarch, who,
to prefer his family, despised all sanc
tions, both divine and human. . . .
When the peace of Reswick was
brought to a conclusion, the Parliament

of England thought it high time to dis
band some of their national regiments,
and all the foreigners in their service.
Amongst these last were the Dutch blue
guards, and my Lord Portland's regi
ment of Dutch horse, who attended his
majesty in all his expeditions, long
before and after his accession to the
throne of England. His majesty was
much dissatisfied at the proceedings,
and made all the interest he possibly
could in the house to disannul the in
junctions of his supreme council, but all
to no affect ; he used entreaties to the
parliament, but to no purpose, and
upon this occasion behaved himself
much different from the haughty char
acter he had all along maintained.

5. Letter of the Countess of Rutland
to her Husband. (MS. Commission,
Report 12, App. v.) April, 1 70 1.
I was last night at Kensington, my
dear Lord, alltho my cold yett is fair
from being gone, and I received so
great a honour from his Majesty, who,
'tis said, is observed to not talk much
to ladys, that I cannot miss acquaint
ing you with it. . . . He found . . .
the Dutches of Somersett, Ormond,
Queensbrough, and myself talking
together just by the card table and his
chaire, so he made his legs to all the
ladys, and. every one that played took
their stoolls. . . . He asked me how
you had your ill health, and said he
hard you had not injoyed it extrem
well, which he was sorry for. . . .
Affter his playing a litel at the gold
tabel he rise and went to goe to the
orther tabels, as he allways dus, so I
gave back to mack the King's way, and
presed the ladys behind to do so to,
which the King seeing said it was ' No-
mater, my Lady Rutland, for I can
come over the stool,' so strid over it
and when he came just by me stopped

THE FIRST KING OF PRUSSIA.
( See page 211;.)

Traits of William and Mary

213

and told I looked mighty well [and
conversed about you ].
Whill all this passed between us, I
could hear a world of the crowd, who
knew me not, ask " Who is she, what
is she, that the King takes such nottice
of, and looks so pleased all the whill
he talks to?" and abundance that did
know me asked what his Majesty and I
coud find to talk of so long. I told
them it was fine speeches of civillity on
both sides, and severall spoack allso
to Dolly of it, who . . . said it was
observed by all that the king looked
brisker and pleaseantr when he was
doing me that honour amongst so much
compainy than [he] had bine seen to
do of sum time.

6. Extracts from Burnet. 1702.
. . . The king seemed all this winter
in a very fair way of recovery : he had
made the royal apartments in Hampton-
Court very noble, and he was so much
pleased with the place, that he went
thither once a week, and rode often
about the park : in the end of February,
the horse he rode on stumbled, and he,
being then very feeble, fell off and
broke his collar bone. . . . He was
brought to Kensington that night. . . .
During his illness, he sent a message to
the two houses, recomending the union
of both kingdoms to them. . . . He
died, in the 52nd year of his age,
having reigned 13 years and a few
days. . . .
Thus lived and died William the
third, king of Great Britain, and prince
of Orange. He had a thin and weak
body, was brown haired, and of a clear
and delicate constitution : he had a
Roman eagle nose, bright and spark
ling eyes, a large front, and a counte
nance composed to gravity and author
ity : all his senses were critical and
exquisite. He was always asthmatical,

and the dregs of the smallpox falling
on his lungs, he had a constant deep
cough. His behaviour was solemn
and serious, seldom cheerful, and but
with a few : he spoke little and very
slowly, and most commonly with a
disgusting dryness, which was his
character at all times, except in a day
of battle : for then he was all fire,
though without passion : he was then
everywhere, and looked to every
thing. . . .
He had a memory that amazed all
about him, for it never failed him : he
was an exact observer of men and
things . . . his genius lay chiefly to
war, in which his courage was more
admired than his conduct : great errors
were often committed "by him, but his
heroical courage set things right, as it
inflamed those who were about him. . . .
He grew, in his last years, too remiss
and careless as to all affairs ; till the
treacheries of France awakened him,
and the dreadful conjunction of the
monarchies [France and Spain. — Ed.]
gave so loud an alarm to all Europe.
For a watching over that court, and a
bestirring himself against their prac-.
tices, was the prevailing passion of his
whole life.
Note by Onslow, a Contemporary .
And made preparations and provi
sion for carrying it on after his death.
His design in all this was great and
public-spirited, and no prince ever pos
sessed more of that than he did. And
accounts of him have not done him
justice enough in that particular. It
made him to forego all private consid
erations whatever, that could interfere
with it ; ease, health, or pleasures,
anger, resentment, jealousy and even
rivalry. Burnet.
I was, in many great instances, much
obliged by him ; but that was not my

214

Traits of William and Mary

chief bias to him : I considered him as
a person raised up by God to resist the
power of France, and the progress of
tyranny and persecution : the series of
the five princes of Orange, that was
now ended in him, was the noblest suc
cession of heroes that we find in any
history : and the thirty years, from the
year 1672 to his death, in which he
acted so great a part, carry in them so
many amazing steps of a glorious and
distinguishing providence, that in the
words of David he may be called, the
man of God's right hand, who?n he
made strong for himself: after all the
abatements that may be allowed for his
errors and faults, he ought still to be
reckoned among the greatest princes
that our history, or indeed that any

other, can afford. He died in a critical
time for his own glory ; since he had
formed a great alliance, and had pro
jected the whole scheme of the war ; so
that if it succeeds, a great part of the
honour of it will be ascribed to him :
and if otherwise, it will be said he was
the soul of the alliance, that did both
animate and knit it together, and that it
was natural for that body to die and fall
asunder, when he who gave it life was
withdrawn. Upon his death, some
moved for a magnificent funeral ; but
it seemed not decent to run into unnec
essary expense, when we were entering
on a war that must be maintained
at a vast charge : so a private funeral
was resolved on.

EDITORIAL.

THE SPANISH SUCCESSION WAR.

[Matthew Prior, as we have seen (p.
171) wrote in 1698: "The King of
Spain's health is the weatherglass upon
which all our politicians look ; as that
rises or falls we look pleasant or un
easy." The same words would have
applied at almost any time during the
previous thirty years. Already in
166S the Emperor Leopold and Louis
XIV had made a secret treaty to
divide the spoils between them so
soon as the sickly Charles II, the
last Spanish Hapsburg, should pass
away. But the feeble prince, whose
domains embraced not only Spain,
Cuba and the Phillipines, but also
the Netherlands and a part of Italy
and Sicily, lingered on from year to
year. Louis XIV was constantly on
the watch ; descended from the elder
sister of Philip IV, he had, to make
matters the more sure, married the older
sister of Charles II, although the latter
princess had been obliged, in order to

secure her dowry, to renounce her hopes
of the succession. The head of the
Austrian Hapsburgs, the long-reigned
Emperor Leopold was descended from
a younger sister of Philip IV and had
married the younger sister of Charles
II ; but no renunciation stood in the
way. To two other powers, England
and Holland, the question of the suc
cession was of vital importance even
from a purely commercial point of
view ; for France and Spain united
would have controlled nearly the whole
sea-coast of the continent of Europe,
and would have been in a position to
forbid the lucrative trade with the West
Indies. For a moment a peaceful solu
tion of the matter seemed to have been
achieved : Louis XIV and William of
Orange agreed to give Spain, the Neth
erlands and the colonies to Joseph
Ferdinand of Bavaria, ¦ son of the'
Elector Max Emmanuel, and grandson
of the Emperor Leopold. Austria waa

taximiliamis Omanuel
CDujc el c lex tor. (Molqu i-Kcyit.
y i wcrna ror . hL '

(J5auark£j

The Spanish Succession War 215

to take Milan, France to have Naples
and Sicily.
If there was one thing which the
Spaniards detested it was the thought
of having their possessions parcelled
out in this manner. King Charles mus
tered strength to appear in a council of
state and proclaim Joseph Ferdinand
heir not of a part but of the whole of
his dominions. But the young prince
at once sickened and died ; many be
lieved he had fallen a victim to a
poudre de succession administered by
order of the French King. Charles II
himself was by this time really dying.
Louis signed a new partition treaty with
Holland and England ; but his agents
the while, headed by the Archbishop
of Toledo and byjesuit confessors, were
busy at the pillow of the dying mon
arch, trying to persuade him to deed
his realms to Philip of Anjou, grand
son of the French king. An opposing
party, headed by the Queen, tried
equally hard to secure the whole inher
itance for the Archduke Charles, Leo
pold's younger son. One day, in the
Queen's absence from the sick-room,
the fatal document was signed in favor
of the French candidate. " The
Pyrenees have ceased to exist," cried
Louis XIV, and caused Philip to be
solemnly proclaimed King of Spain in
the Palace of Versailles. "But re
member," he said in his address of
congratulation, " that you are a prince
of France."
England, Holland and Austria had
equal cause for war ; the two former
because of the breach of the Partition
treaty, the latter because bereft of all
share in the inheritance. It cost King
William, indeed, infinite pains to gain
over the English parliament ; he could
not afford to offend the Tories, whose
votes were needed in the matter of the
Protestant succession to the throne ; but
at last the succession act was passed

and shortly afterwards the " Grand
Alliance " signed. William died before
hostilities commenced ; but his coalition
stood until England so disgracefully
abandoned it in 17 13. The Grand
Alliance was joined as a matter of
course by Hanover and by Prussia ; the
former had been made an electorate (in
1692), the latter a kingdom (two days
before the death of Charles II), with
the understanding that they should fight
the Emperor's battles. One by one the
other German powers came in, although
with characteristic tardiness the diet of
Ratisbon did not declare war until the
fighting had been going on for nearly a
year. One striking exception was the
Elector of Bavaria, Max Emmanuel,
who listened to the delusive promises of
Louis XIV. He was to have the Pal
atinate (if he could conquer it !) , or,
perhaps, the Spanish Netherlands, a
royal, and possibly even the imperial
crown. Even after signing the alliance, and
after the Austrians had long since taken
the field, England hesitated to open hos
tilities. But when, on the death of
James II the French King ostentatiously
treated his son with royal honors, and
empowered him to take the title of
James III, all the reluctance of the
people gave way. In the public squares
of London a herald, to the sound of
trumpets, summoned Louis to mortal
combat on the ground of " presuming
to support the so-called Prince of Wales
as King of England." Parliament
granted large supplies of men and
money, and entrusted the chief com
mand to the " handsomest man in the
world," Lord Churchill, duke of Marl
borough. Fortunately court favor was
paired with coolness, daring, and, in
deed, with all the qualities that go to
make a great commander. The Aus
trians put in the field a general of the

216 The Spanish Succession War

same calibre, the redoubtable Prince
Eugene. The troops of the Empire
were under Louis of Baden, who, in
deed, although he had once done good
service against the Turks, had now out
lived his usefulness.
The chief successes in the early part
of the war fell to Max Emmanuel of
Bavaria ; he was greeted on his entry
into Augsburg in 1703 as "Augustus
and soon to be Caesar," and a medal
was struck in which he is designated
as "King of Bohemia." But Marl
borough and Eugene combined against
him, sent Louis of Baden out of the
way even at the cost of entrusting him
with 20,000 men, and then struck their
great blow at Hochstadt, or, as the
English preferred to call it, Blenheim.
Marshal Tallard, the French com
mander, was taken captive together
with the cash-box that contained the
pay for his troops; 28,000 men were
killed, wounded or taken prisoner ;
among the booty were 5,400 provision
wagons and thirty-four coaches of
ventursome females who had come to
lighten the tedium of camp life. The
whole of Bavaria fell into the hands of
the allies; Max Emmanuel escaped,
but his wife and children were sent
into exile. After Blenheim the Mar
grave of Baden was left to defend the
Rhine, Eugene went to Italy, where
he gained the splendid battle of Turin,
and Marlborough conducted his opera
tions in Belgium. Archduke Charles,
or, as he styled himself, Charles III,
succeeded in entering Madrid and figur
ing for a while as King of Spain.
Leopold died and was succeeded by
Joseph, one of the best and strongest
of the Hapsburgs.
All Europe was in conflagration at
this time, and for many of the German
princes it was a question in which
struggle they should join. Charles XII
of Sweden, in the year of Blenheim,

deposed Augustus the strong, King of
Poland, and placed Stanislaus Les-
cinsky on that throne. In 1706 he in
vaded Saxony, and forced on Augustus
the humiliating peace of Alt Ranstadt.
Charles XII himself, in 1709, received
condign punishment at Pultava from
the hand of Peter the Great.
In Belgium, where he was later
assisted by Prince Eugene, Marl
borough won the battles of Ramifies,
Oudenarde, and bloodiest of all, Mal-
plaquet, at which latter place the allies,
by a strange whim of fortune, though
gaining the victory, lost twice as many
in killed and wounded as their oppo
nents. The French were not to be
blamed for ascribing the honors to
themselves, and it was in these days
that one heard in all the streets of Paris
the mocking song, " Marlb' rough s' en
va-t-en guerre!" At all events Mal-
plaquet practically finished the war.
France was on the verge of bankruptcy,
and the few engagements that still
took place were but a sort of com
mentary on the long negotiations for
peace. That these negotiations lasted as long
as they did was largely the fault of
Marlborough ; the whig party lived by
war, and to it the great general was not
above catering. And now a new event
occurred that changed the whole aspect-
of affairs and acted like an explosive
in sundering the Austrian and English
interests. In April, 171 1, died the
young Emperor Joseph ; Charles III
was now unexpectedly heir to the
Austrian possessions and the sure can
didate for the imperial throne. A new
world monarchy, like that of Charles
V, seemed on the point of arising.
The spectre was as frightful to England
and Holland as had ever been the
grandeur of Louis XIV. Philip of
Anjou, against whose claim they had
been fighting for so many years, seemed

( See page ai6.)

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The Spanish Succession War 2 1 7

now the , preferable candidate for the
throne of Spain.
Altogether in England the pendulum
had completely swung round. No in
sult was too great to be heaped upon
the Marlboroughs ; even Prince Eugene
had fallen from his pedestal. To her
own lasting disgrace England deserted
her allies without warning and made
her own terms with France, securing
Port Mahon and Gibraltar, Newfound
land, Nova Scotia and Hudson's Bay

Territory. The Pretender was re
nounced by France and obliged to seek
a residence elsewhere. Philip V was
acknowledged as King of Spain, Max
Emmanuel was reinstated in all his
possessions. Never in all history did a
succession of defeats reap such a har
vest of rewards. France stood there,
strong and aggressive as ever, with a
Bourbon on the Spanish throne ready
to obey her beck and call.]

GROUP XXIII.

, QUEEN ANNE AND
1 . Extract from Horace Walpole' s
Reminiscences. (Boston, 1S20, p. 84.)
The beauty of the duchess of Marl
borough had always been of the scorn
ful and imperious kind ; and her feat
ures and air announced nothing that
her temper did not confirm. Both
together, her beauty and temper, en
slaved her heroic lord. One of her
principal charms was a prodigious
abundance of fine hair. One day at
her toilet, she cut off those command
ing tresses and flung them in his face.
Nor did her insolence stop there ; nor
stop till it had totally estranged and
worn out the patience of the poor
queen, her mistress. The duchess was
often seen to give her majesty her fan
and gloves, and turn away her own
head as if the queen had offensive
smells. 2. Extracts from the Correspondence
of the Duchess of Marlborough. (Lon
don, 1838, Vol. I. p 1. ff.)
Queen Anne to the Duchess of Mail -
borough. 1703.
It is now so late that I can only
thank you for your letter, and congratu
late the Duke of Marlborough being
well after the siege of Bon, which is

THE MARLBOROUGHS.
more pleasing news to me than all the
conquests he can make.
May God Almighty, that has pre
served him hitherto through many
dangers, continue to do so, and send
him safe home to his and my dear
adored Mrs. Freeman. (Mrs. Free
man, the Duchess ; Mr. Freeman, the
Duke. Queen Anne signs herself
"Mrs. Morley.")
Alarlborough to his Wife (In Coxe,
Life of Marlborough. London, 1S20,
Vol. I. p. 413.) August 13, 1704.
I have not time to say more, but to
beg you will give my duty to the
Queen, and let her know her army has
had a glorious victory. M. Tallard
and two other generals are in my
coach, and I am following the rest.
The bearer, my aide-de-camp, Colonel
Parke, will give her an account of
what has passed. I shall do it in a day
or two by another more at large.
Marlborough.
The Queen to the Duchess of Marl
borough. (Coxe II. 38.)
Windsor, August 10-21.
Since I sent my letter away by the
messenger, I have had the happiness

218 Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs

of receiving my dear Mrs. Freeman's
by colonel Parke, with the good news
of this glorious victory, which, next to
God Almighty, is wholly owing to
dear Mr. Freeman, on whose safety I
congratulate you with all my soul.
May the same Providence that has
hitherto preserved, still watch over,
and send him well home to you. We
can never thank God Almighty enough
for these great blessings, but must make
it our endeavour to deserve them ; and
I hope he will continue his goodness to
us in delivering us from the attempts of
all our other enemies. I have nothing
to add at present, but my being sin
cerely, etc.
Mrs. Burnett to the Duchess.
Aug. 12, O. S.
Though your grace's moments are so
valuable that I should fear to trouble
you with my most humble thanks,
till you had more leisure to receive
such worthless tributes, yet I cannot
defer letting your grace know the joy
I see in every one I meet. The com
mon people, who I feared were grown
stupid, have and do now shew greater
signs of satisfaction and triumph, than
I think I ever saw before on any good
success whatever ; and after the first
tribute of praise to God, the first cause
of all that is good, every one studies
who shall most exalt the duke of Marl
borough's fame, by admiring the great
secresy, excellent conduct in the design,
and wonderful resolution and courage
in the execution. The emperor can
give no title * half so glorious as such
an action. How much blood and
treasure has been spent to reduce the
exorbitant power of France, and to give
a balance to Europe ; and when after
so long a struggle the event remained
under great uncertainty, to have the
glory to break the chain, give the

-Alluding to the title of prince.

greatest blow to that tyranny that it
ever had, have an emperor to owe his
empire to the queen's armies as con
ducted by his grace, are splendours that
outshine any reward they can receive.
I do not wonder you are all joy.
You have just cause for it, and to re
count every day with the utmost thank
fulness the amazing blessings God has
heaped upon you. The bishop heartily
prays for the continuance of the duke's
success, so that the queen may have the
greatest glory that is possible, that is
the restoring peace and liberty to
Europe, and what is greater, the free
profession of the protestant religion,
wherever it has been persecuted or
oppressed ; and that after her, her min
isters, who are the instruments, may
share in the lasting blessings and glory
due to such benefactors to mankind.
Sure no honest man can refuse to unite
in such noble designs. I am really
giddy with joy, and if I rave, you must
forgive me. I can lament for no private
loss, since God has given such a general
mercy. In death it would be a matter
of joy to me to have lived so long as to
hear it.
The bishop said he could not sleep,
his heart was so charged with joy. He
desires your grace would carefully lay
up that little letter as a relic that cannot
be valued enough. Some wiser people
than myself think the nation is in so
good a humour with this success and the
plentiful harvest, that better circum
stances can hardly meet for a new par
liament ; and with a little care, it may
be as good a one as the depraved
manners of this nation is capable of. I
pray God direct and prosper all her
majesty's counsels and resolutions in
this, and every thing else, and make her
the universal protectress of truth and
charity. And may your grace be ever
a happy favourite, happy in all your
advices and services, and happy in her

PETER THE GREAT,
(Seepage 216.)

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AN ALLY OF qUEEN ANNE.
( See page 217.)

Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs 2 1 9

majesty's kind approbation and esteem ;
and may every honest heart love you as
well, and endeavour to serve you as
faithfully, as does your grace's most
obedient, etc."

3. Letter of the Emperor Leopold to
the Duke of Marlborough. (In Coxe,
Vol. II. p. 21.)
To the most illustrious Prince of Us,
and the Holy Roman Empire, John,
Duke of Marlborough, etc.
I salute with pleasure your dilection
by these titles, who so justly deserve a
place among the princes of the empire,
as well from your own merits as the
honour of your noble family, and for
your signal services to me and my
august house, and the holy roman em
pire, being desirous to give you this
public monument of honour, the great
est there is in Germany, and which is
so justly conferred on you. And to
make- still more public the great obliga
tions I have to her britannic majesty,
for sending so great a succour so far to
assist me, and the empire, when our
affairs were in so ill a posture, by the
base* revolt of Bavaria to France, and
to your dilection, to whose prudence
and courage, and the bravery of the
english and other troops under your
command, my own generals, as well as
fame, ascribe chiefly under God, our
late successes ; I shall use my endeav
ours to procure your delection a place
and vote in the diet, among the princes
of the empire. These victories are so
great, especially that near Hochstadt,
over the french, which no ages can par
allel,, that we may not only congratulate
you on having broken the pride of
France, defeated their pernicious at
tempts, and settled again the affairs of
Germany, or rather of all Europe, after
so- great a shock ; but have hopes of see
ing the full and entire liberty of Europe
in a short time happily restored from

the power of France. To which end
as I am sure nothing will be wanting
on the part of your dilection, nothing
remains but to wish you farther suc
cesses, and give you fresh assurances of
my readiness to embrace any opportu
nity of shewing you with how much
affection I am, Leopold.
Given in my city of Vienna, 28
August, 1704.

4. Letter of the Duke of Marlbor
ough to the Duchess. (In Coxe's
Marlborough.) Bruxelles, July 1, 1706.
Since my last I have had the pleasure
of yours of the nth, as also one from
49 (cipher for George Churchill), in
which he does assure me that he is de
sirous of doing everything that might
please you and 91 (Godolphin). I am
afraid there is sombody else that makes
82 ( ?) and Mrs. Morley uneasy. I do
from my Soul wish her all the happi
ness in the world ; and it is certain that
God has blessed her reign much above
what has been for a long time. But
we have had such a villanous race of
vipers amongst us, that whilst she is
admired by all people abroad, they are
studying how to make her and those
that serve her uneasy. I really am not
concerned for myself : I could retire
then, and live with much more pleasure
released, if I were sure that 83 (the
Queen) and 91 (Godolphin) would not
want my service. . . .
Queen Anne to the Duchess. (In
Correspondence.) No date.
. . . I am in such haste I can say no
more but that I am very sorry dear Mrs.
Freeman will be so unkind as not to
come to her poor unfortunate, faithful
Morley, who loves her sincerely, and
will do so to the last moment.

220 Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs

Queen Anne to the Duchess. (MSS.
Commission, 8th report.)
May 1707 (or 1708).
... I end this with assuring you
with the same sincerity I should do if
I were upon my deathbed, that I do be
lieve everything you tell me that you
know of your knowledge is true, and
that I am as tenderly fond of you as
ever, and nothing, no, not even your
own unkindness shall ever alter your
own unfortunate faithfull Morley.
Queen Anne to the Duke. (Pb.)
Windsor, July 22, 1708.
. . . Tho' you say you will serve me
as general, but not as a minister, I shall
always look upon you as both, and
never separate those two characters,
but ask your advice in both capacities
on all occasions. Saturday, 170S (sic).
... If ever you should forsake me,
I would have nothing more to do with
the world, but make another abdycation,
for what is a crown when the support
of it is gone. Oct. 25, 1709.
. . . You seem to be dissatisfied
with my behaviour to the Duchess of
Marlborough. I do not love complain
ing, but it is impossible to help saying
on this occasion I believe nobody was
ever so used by a friend as I have been
by her ever since my coming to the
Crown. I desire nothing but that she
would leave off teasing and tormenting
me, and behave herself with the de
cency she ought both to her friend and
Queen, and this I hope youfwill make
her do.
Qiieen Anne to the Duchess. (In
Correspondence of the Duchess of
Marlborough.) No date.
I shall dine at St. James's, an it
please God, to-morrow, and shall be
very glad to see you there, when I am

alone ; and be assured, whenever you
will be the same to me you was five
years ago, you shall find me the same
tender, faithful Morley.
The Duchess to Queen Anne. 1709.
I am very thankful for the favour of
dear Mrs. Morley' s letter, and for the
profession at the end of it, which de
serves more acknowledgments than I
can express ; and if you shall dislike
anything I am going to say in answer
to it, I hope you will continue to for
give me, for since I wrote to you only
as a friend, it is impossible for me
to say the least word that I don't
think. . . .
I can't help renewing my request
that you will explain without the
trouble of writing a long answer to
this, what it is that prevails with you
to oppose the advice of all your old
servants and councils, — if it be not that1
woman (Abigail, Mrs. Masham) and
those that apply to you by her. . . .
It looks as if nobody were too scan
dalous to be countenanced, that would
but apply to this new favourite. . . .
I think you are influenced by this
favourite to do things that are directly
against your own interest and safety ;
and you seem to think that there is
nothing of all this, and therefore I will
take the liberty to tell you why I think
it is so at present, and what it is that
would make me think otherwise.
I think the first, because every day
shews that you dont hear my Lord
Marlborough and Lord Godolphin as
you used to do, and I can hardly
believe that even now any men have
more credit with you than they have ;
therefore who can it be but this woman,
for you see nobody else. And to shew
you that I am not alone of this opinion,
if I should ask the first ordinary man
that I met, what had caused so great

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CHARLES XII. OF SWEDEN.
(Seepage 216,)

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Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs 221

a change in you, he would say that
the reason was because you were
grown very fond of Mrs. Masham, and
were governed by those that governed
her. . . .
I had almost forgot to tell you of a
new book that is come out ; the subject
is ridiculous, and the book not well
written, but that looks so much the
worse, for it shews that the notion is
extensively spread among all sorts of
people. It is a dialogue between
Madame Maintenon and Madam Mas
ham, in which she thanks her for her
good endeavours to serve the King of
France here. . . . The favourite char
acters are your Majesty, Mrs. Masham,
my Lord Peterborough, and Mr.
Hariey ; and I am sure every one will
allow that is very good attendance, in
which I, and Lord Marlborough and
almost every one I know are abused,
except Mrs. Masham, Lord Peterbor
ough and Mr. Hariey. Speaking of
her it "begins thus: — "She had a soul
fitted for grandeur, a capacious reposi
tory for the confidence of royal favour ;
she had the good fortune to be placed
in the eye of favour, whence only her
own merit, and sovereign's capacity of
well judging merit, distinguished her ;
happy in a mistress deserving such a
favourite, her mistress, in a favourite
deserving to be suah." Duchess of
Marlborough .
1709. Monday evening.
Soon after I came home from your
Grace' s lodgings, I had the honour of a
visit from Lord Halifax, who had said
yesterday that he would call upon me
soon, if I would not be denied when he
came. . . . There was nothing Lord
Halifax enlarged so much upon as
the present reports about 240 (The
Duchess herself) ; and he desired me
to remember that he then foretold that,
if that person and 42 (the Queen)

Mr. Maynwaring to the Duchess oj

were not soon upon better terms,
Godolphin and the Duke of Marlbor
ough would be ruined. And though
he did not pretend to know much, yet
he could easily see that the storm was
gathering on all sides. He said it
was commonly reported that 240 made
at Windsor an open complaint of hav
ing been worse used than 13 (Somer
set) or even the Bug (Kent) ; and that
he thought was wrong.
I said, since the fact was so, I
thought it was no matter how much it
was known. But, I said, one thing
seemed strange to me, that everybody
was now of opinion that nothing would
go well unless 240 (The Duchess)
were in favour ; who, during the
time of being in favour, had met with
hardly anything but ingratitude and ill-
usage. . . .

5. The Duchess' sown Account of- an
Interview with the Queen. (Corres
pondence, I. 295.)
Good Friday, April 6, 1710.
Upon the 6th of April, 17 10, I fol
lowed my letter to Kensington so soon
that Her Majesty could not write another
harsh letter, which I found she intended ;
I sent a page of the back stairs to
acquaint her Majesty that I was there.
She was alone ; however the man
staid longer than was usual upon such
occasions, and then told me the Queen
would have me come in. As soon as
I opened the door she said she was
going to write to me. "Upon what,
madam ? " said I.
The Queen. — I did not open your
letter until just now, and I was going
to write to you.
Lady Marlborough. — Was there
anything in it, madam, that you had a
mind to answer?
The Queen. — I think there is noth
ing you can have to say, but you can
write it.

222 Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs

Lady Alarlborough. — Won't your
Majesty give me leave to tell it you ?
The Queen. — Whatever you have to
say you may write it.
Lady Marlborough. — Indeed, I
cant tell how to put such sort of things
into writing.
The Queeti. — You may put it into
writing. Lady Alarlborough. — Wont your
Majesty allow me to tell you now I am
here ?
The Queen. — You may put it into
writing. Lady Alarlborough. — I believe your
Majesty never did so hard a thing to
anybody, as to refuse to hear them
speak, even the meanest person that
ever desired it.
The Queen. — Yes, I do bid people
put what they have to say in writing,
when I have a mind to it.
Lady Marlborough. — I have noth
ing to say, madam, upon the subject
that is uneasy to you ; that person is
not, that I know of, at all concerned
in the account that I would give you,
which I cant be quiet till I have told
you. The Queen. — You may put it into
writing. Lady Alarlborough. — There are a
thousand lies told of me. ... I do
assure your Majesty that there are
several things which I have heard have
been told to your Majesty that I have
said of you, that I am no more capable
of, than I am of killing my children.
I should have said, when I began to
speak, after she had so unnecessarily
repeated the same thing over and over
again, that I might put what I had to
say in writing, when she saw I went on
to tell her the thing, she turned her
face from me as if she feared blushing
upon something I might say to her.
The Queen. — There are, without
doubt, many lies told.

Lady Alarlborough. — Pray, madam,
tell me what you have heard of me,
that I may not trouble you to repeat
more disagreeable things than neces
sary. The Queen. — You said you desire
no answer, and I shall give you none.
Lady Alarlborough. — I am confi
dent your Majesty could not be so hard
to me, if you could believe that 'tis
only to do myself justice, and that I
could convince you that I have no de
sign of desiring any favour you are
averse to.
The Queen. — I will go out of the
room. Upon which I followed her to the
door, where she stopped, and when I
could speak, which I could not in some
time, for the tears that fell down my
face, at which I was sorry but could
not help it, (and I believe there are not
many that would not have been as much
moved at such strange usage) I appealed
to her. ... I only beg to know what
you have heard, that I might be able to
clear myself in anything in which I
was wronged.
The Queen. — You said you desire
no answer, and I shall give you none.

6. Extracts from Swift's Journal to
Stella. (Sir Walter Scott's Edition of
Swift's Works, Vols. 2 and 3.)
1710-1 1, Jan. 7.
.. . The Whigs, now they are fallen,
are the most malicious toads in the
world. We have now had a second
misfortune, the loss of several Virginia
ships. I fear people will begin to think
that nothing thrives under this ministry :
and if the ministry can once be rendered
odious to the people, the parliament
may be chosen Whig or Tory, as the
queen pleases. Then I think our
friends press a little too hard on the
Duke of Marlborough. The country
members are violent to have past faults

Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs 223

inquired into, and they have reason ;
but I- do not observe the ministry to be
very fond of it. In my opinion, we
have nothing to save us but a peace,
and I am sure we can not have such a
one as we hoped, and then the Whigs
will bawl what they would have done
had they continued in power. [England
was verging towards the utterly disgrace
ful peace of Utrecht. J I tell the min
istry this as much as I dare, and shall
venture to say a little more to them,
especially about the Duke of Marlbor
ough, who, as the Whigs give out, will
lay down his command ; and I question
whether ever any wise state laid aside a
general who had been successful nine
years together, whom the enemy so
much dreaded, and his own soldiers
believe must always conquer ; and you
know that in war opinion is nine parts
in ten. The ministry hear me always
with appearance of regard, and much
kindness ; but I doubt they let personal
quarrels mingle too much with their
proceedings. . . . Pshaw, what is all
this? Do you know one thing, that I
find I can write politics to you much
easier than to anybody alive ? . . .
Jan. 12.
. . . Lady Marlborough offers, if
they will let her keep her employ
ments, never to come into the queen's
presence. The Whigs say the Duke
of Marlborough will serve no more ;
but I hope and think otherwise. I
would to Heaven I were this minute
with my dearest at Dublin ; for I am
weary of politics that give me such mel
ancholy prospects. . . . August 19.
The queen did not stir out to-day,
she is in a little fit of the gout. I dined
at Mr. Masham' s. . . . The queen
has ordered twenty thousand pounds, to
go on with the building at Blenheim,
which has been starved till now, since
the change of the ministry. I suppose

it is to reward his last action of getting
into the French lines. [Note by Scott :
" Before Bouchain ; a piece of general
ship deemed equal to almost any of his
exploits."] Dec. 6.
. . . The Duke of Marlborough has
not seen the queen for some days past.
Mrs. Masham is glad of it, because she
says he tells a hundred lies to his
friends of what she says to him : he is
one day humble, and the next day on
the high ropes. . . . Dec. 30th.
. . . The Duke of Marlborough was
at court to-day, and nobody hardly took
notice of him. Masham' s being a lord
begins to take wind ; nothing at court
can be kept a secret. Dec. 31.
... I hear the Duke of Marlborough
is turned out of all his employments : I
shall know to-morrow, when I am to
carry Dr. King to dine with the secre
tary. — These are strong remedies ; pray
God the patient is able to bear them.
The last ministry people are utterly
desperate. Jan. 1, 1711-12.
. . . The queen and lord-treasurer
mortally hate the Duke of Marlbor
ough, and to that he owes his fall, more
than to his other faults : unless he has
been tampering too far with his party,
of which I have not heard any particu
lars ; however it be, the world abroad
will blame us. I confess my belief,
that he has not one good quality in the
world beside that of a general, and
even that I have heard denied by several
great soldiers. But we have had con
stant success in arms while he com
manded. Opinion is a mighty matter
in war, and I doubt the French think
it impossible to conquer an army that
he leads, and our soldiers think the
same ; and how far even this step may
encourage the French to play tricks

224 Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs

with us, no man knows. I do not love
to see personal resentment mix with
public affairs. . . . Jan. 8.
. . . The Duke of Marlborough says,
there is nothing he now desires so much
as to contrive some way how to soften
Dr. Swift.. He is mistaken ; for those
things that have been hardest against
him were not written by me. Mr. Sec
retary told me this from a friend of the
duke's; and I'm sure now he is down,
I shall not trample on him ; although I
love him not, I dislike his being out.
Jan. io.
This was our society day you know :
but: the Duke of Ormond could not be
with us, because he dined with Prince
Eugene. It cost me a guinea contribu
tion to a poet, who had made a copy of
verses upon monkies, applying the story
to: the Duke of Marlborough ; the rest
gave two guineas, except the two phy
sicians, who followed my example. I
don't like this custom : the next time I
will give nothing. Jan. 13.
... I saw Prince Eugene to-day at
court : I don't think him an ugly-faced
fellow, but well enough, and a good
'shape. Jan. 23.
' I dined again to-day with the secre
tary, but 'could not despatch some busi
ness I had with him, he has so much
besides upon his hands at this juncture,
and preparing against the great business
of to-morrow, which we are top full of.
The minister's design is, that the Duke
of Marlborough shall be censured as
gently as possible, provided his friends
will not make head to defend him, but
if they do it may end in some severer
votes. A gentleman, who was just
now with him (Marlborough), tells me
he is much cast down and fallen away ;
but he is positive, if he has but ten
friends in the House, that they shall de

fend him to the utmost, and endeavour
to prevent the least censure upon him,
which I think cannot be, since the bri
bery is manifest. Sir Solomon Medina
paid him six thousand pounds a year to-
have the employment of providing bread
for the army, and the duke owns it
in his letter to the commissioner/ of
accounts. . . . Jan. 25. ¦;¦' '.
The secretary sent to me this morning
to know whether we should dine to
gether ; I went to him, and there I
learned that the question went against
the Duke of Marlborough, by a major
ity of a hundred; so the " ministry is
mighty well satisfied, and the duke will
now be able to do no hurt. . . . No I
was not splenetic ; you see what plunges
the court has been at to set all right
again. ... I am of your opinion, that
Lord Marlborough is used too hardly: I
have often scratched out passages from
papers and pamphlets sent me, before
they were printed ; because I thought
them too severe. But he is certainly a
vile man, and has no sort of merit
beside the military. . . . Feb. 10. '
I saw Prince Eugene at court to-day
very plain. He is a plaguy yellow,
and literally ugly besides.

7. Letter of the Electress Sophia to-
the Earl of Strafford (In Macpherson',
Original Papers, Vol. II. p. 347.)
Jan.: 1712.
. . . The good natured lord Rivers
told me, he clearly perceived I was of
the duke of Marlborough' s party. " 'I
answered that if the Queen had made
an ape her general, and that he had
gained so many battles and towns, I
would be equally for him: and I see
that you have forgot how little I was"
obliged to his wife ; and as for him
self, he never spoke to me of anything
which had any concern with the ad-

Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs 225

vantages of this house. His expres
sion, in speaking of the Queen, was
always, that she was a very good sort
of a woman. He repeated this fre
quently, and it appeared to us too low a
commendation for so great a princess.
Airs. White to Mrs. Watson. (In
Macpherson's Original Papers, Vol II.
p. 271, ff.) Feb. 1 71 2.
My lord Marlborough is very humble,
visits every creature that has any credit.
To General Vv ebb he sent to know,
when he wou a be at home, he would
visit him. He sent him word, he
never would be at home to him ; that
he (Marlborough) had done him all
the injustice he could when he was in
power, and that now he would do him
all the justice he could, which he
thought he deserved ; and my lord
Wharton told my loid treasurer, that
he played well at whist : what he could
not make by tricks, he made up by
knaves. 1712.
The birth day of the Queen, the
Duke of Marlborough was in a chair
in St. James's Park, with the curtains
drawn : the mob, that believed it to be
the Prince Eugene, huzza'd the chair;
but the duke modestly drew back the
curtains and put himself out, and with
a sign shewed his dislike to the saluta
tion. The mob, finding their mistake,
and that it was he, cried out, "Stop
thief," which was a thorough mortifi
cation to him. His daughters, that
day, to shew their contempt of the
court, were in wrapping-gowns at a
window in St. James's to see the com
pany pass, two of them, and the other
two drove through the Pall-mall four
times, in the worst mob-dress they
could put themselves. The duke was
in a black suit, that day, and his son-
in-law, the duke of Montague, was at
court in a plain, coarse, red coat, with

a long shoulder-knot, in ridicule of the
day; but the Queen had the satisfac
tion to see the most splendid court
that ever was, and crowded more than
ever by all the church, nobility and
gentry. There was a short uproar.
My lord Marlborough finds his levees
much thinner than they were, and daily
less and less. The people are disgusted
at him. In a little time he will be
odious to them. How they huzza the
Duke of Ormond, who loves popularity
too well. Prince Eugene wears the
sword the Queen gave him ever since
the birth-day ; it is worth 6000I. He
has had his answer from the third day
he was here. The court wish him
gone. Swift' s Journal. Oct. 28.
. . . Here is the Duke of Marlbor
ough going out of England (Lord
knows why), which causes many spec
ulations. Some say he is conscious of
guilt, and dare not stand it. Others
think he has a mind to fling an odium
on the government, as who should say,
that one, who has done such great ser
vices to his country, cannot live quietly
in it, by reason of the malice of his
enemies* I have helped to patch up
these people together once more. God
knows how long it may last. . . .
Jan. 6, 1712-13.
. . . The Duchess of Marlborough
is leaving England, to go to her duke,
and makes presents of rings to several
friends, they say worth two hundred
pounds a piece. I am sure she ought
to give me one, though the duke pre
tended to think me his greatest enemy,
and got people to tell me so, and very
mildly to let me know how gladly he
would have me softened toward him.
I bid a lady of his acquaintance and
mine let him know, that 1 had hindered
many bitter things against him ; not for

226 Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs

his own sake, but because I thought it
looked base ; and I desired everything
should be left him, except power.
Night, MD. . . . April n.
I dined at lord-treasurer's, with his
Saturday company. We had ten at
table, all lords but myself and the chan
cellor of the exchequer. . . . Lord-
treasurer showed us a small picture,
enamelled work, and set in gold, worth
about twenty pounds ; a picture, I
mean, of the queen, which she gave to
the Duchess of Marlborough, set in
diamonds. When the duchess was
leaving England, she took off all the
diamonds, and gave the picture to
one Mrs. Higgins (an old intriguing
woman, whom everybody knows), bid
ding her make the best of it she could.
Lord-treasurer sent to Mrs. Higgins for
this picture, and gave her a hundred
pounds for it. Was ever such an un
grateful beast as that duchess? or did
you ever hear such a story ? I suppose
the Whigs will not believe it. Pray,
try them. She takes off the diamonds,
and gives away the picture to an in
significant woman, as a thing of no
consequence : and gives it to her to
sell, like a piece of old-fashioned plate.
Is she not a detestable slut? Night j
dear MD.

8. Characteristics of Queen Anne as
drawn by the Duchess. (Correspond
ence, p. 1 19.)
Queen Anne had a person and ap
pearance not at all ungraceful, till she
grew exceeding gross and corpulent.
There was something of majesty in her
look, but mixed with a sullen and con
stant frown, that plainly betrayed a
gloominess of soul, and a cloudiness of
disposition within. She seemed to in
herit a good deal of her father's mo-
roseness, which naturally produced in
her the same sort of stubborn positive-

ness in many cases, both ordinary and
extraordinary, as well as the same sort
of bigotry in religion.
Her memory was exceeding great,
almost to a wonder, and had these two
peculiarities very remarkable in it, that
she could, whenever she pleased, forget
what others would have thought them
selves obliged by truth and honour
to remember, and remember all such
things as others would think it an hap
piness to forget. Indeed she chose to
retain in it very little besides ceremo
nies and customs of courts, and such
like insignificant trifles; so that her
conversation, which otherwise might
have been enlivened by so great a
memory, was only made the more
empty and trifling by it, chiefly turn
ing upon fashions and rules of preced
ence, or observations upon the weather,
or some such poor topics, without any
variety or entertainment. Upon which
account it was a sort of : unhappiness to
her that she naturally loved to • have a
great crowd come to her ; for when
they were come to Court, she never
cared to have them come in to her, not
to go out herself to them, having little
to say to them, but that it was either
hot or cold ; and little to enquire of
them, but how long they had been in
town, or the like weighty matters. She
never discovered any readiness of parts,
either in asking questions, or in giving
answers. In matters of ordinary mo
ment, her discourse had nothing of
brightness or wit; and in weightier
matters, she never spoke but in a hurry,
and had a certain knack of sticking to
what had been dictated to her, to a
degree often very disagreeable, and
without the least sign of understanding
or judgment.
Her letters were very indifferent, both
in sense and spelling, unless they were
generally enlivened with a few passion
ate expressions, sometimes pretty

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I. Smith, pr. ft ac.

Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs 227

-enough, but repeated over and over
again, without the mixture of any
thing either of diversion or ins
truction. Her civility and good manners in con
versation (to which the education of
great persons naturally leads) were
general enough, till in her latter days
her new friends untaught her these
accomplishments and then her whole
deportment was visibly changed to that
degree, that when some things disagree
able to her own honour or passion have
been laid before her, she would descend
to the lowest and most shocking
forms of contradiction ; and what, in
any of a meaner station, would have
been esteemed the height of unpolite-
ness. Her friendships were flames of ex
travagant passion, ending in indiffer
ence or aversion. Her love to the
Prince seemed, in the eye of the world,
to be prodigiously great ; and great as
was the passion of her grief, her
stomach was greater ; for that very day
he died she eat three very large and
hearty meals, so that one would think
that as other persons' grief takes away
their appetites, her appetite took away
her grief. Nor was it less remarkable
where there was so great an appearance
of love, the peculiar pleasure she took
before his funeral in settling the order
of it, and naming the persons that were
to attend, and placing them according
to their rank and to the rules of pre
cedence, which was the entertainment
she gave herself every day till that sol
emnity was over.
I know that in some libels she has
been reproached as one who indulged
herself in drinking strong liquors, but
I believe this was utterly groundless,
and that she never went beyond such
a quantity of strong wines as her
physicians judged to be necessary for
her.

9. Letter of the Duchess of Marl
borough " to Mr. Cooke at the Bank."
April 6, 1742.
Sir : I have received a letter from
Mr. Dodridge, a gentleman that I know
not ; but he seems to me to be a well-
wisher to my family. He writes a good
deal to me, and expresses satisfaction
in the reading the book (a defence of
herself written in 1742), which proves
the falsities that have been spread by
party against me ; but wishes that I
had added two things more to the clear
ing my character ; which are as follows :
— first, concerning the King of Prussia,
that he had writ a book in which he
imputes the ruin of Europe to have
happened from a quarrel between
Queen Anne and me about a pair of
gloves. I did once hear there was such
a book printed, and that his Majesty
said, the Queen would have her gloves
made before mine, which I would not
suffer the glover to do. The other
report, which he mentions, is, that her
Majesty was reconciled to the Duke of
Marlborough and me before her death.
The letter does not mention what we
did to compass this great favour ; but
it seems to think it was from doing
some very infamous thing. As to this
story, I can only answer that I never
heard one word of it before ; that the
letter says, that we came into England,
the end of July, i7!4! the Queen died
the ist of August, and we did not come
into England until after her death, and,
as to the King of Prussia's history, I
have heard it was some other person
that wrote it for him, and called it the
King of Prussia's. I. will not pretend
to say anything in contradiction to his
parts if he did write it ; but I think it
is impossible for anybody to answer all
the nonsense that has been laid to the
charge of kings and ministers, and as
to these two stories there is not the least
foundation for either.

228

The Hanoverian Succession

GROUP XXIV.

THE HANOVERIAN SUCCESSION.

i . Letters of Sophia of Osnabruck to
her Brother, Charles Louis of the Pala
tinate. Translation. (In Brief wechsel
der Herzogin Sophie. Leipzig: Hirzel,
1885, p. 361, ff.)
Osnabruck, June 20, 1679.
When one begins to grow old it seems
as if one always had to fight with some
ill or other. If it had not been the fever
it would have been something else —
perhaps a leg-trouble like yours, or
Prince Rupert's or the Abbess of Her-
ford's. Such is the common fate of
humanity, to see onesself decay while
others are being born to supersede us,
to whom, nevertheless, we grow so
strongly1 attached that we must see them
comfortably established before quitting
them. Ernest Augustus [her husband], who
often has bad turns has taken into his
head that he might die before his
brothers [John Frederick of Hanover
and George William of Celle] and leave
no fit provision for his children. The
Celle people have now long been offer
ing him 50,000 ecus in sovereignty and
100,000 down if he will consent to the
marriage of my eldest son [the future
George I.] with the daughter of George
William [Sophie Dorothea] . The mar
riage is repugnant to the boy, as is the
d'Olbreuse connection to us, though
Miss Hyde was of no better family ;
besides which the girl has been twice
legitimatized : these considerations make
it only right that they should raise the
amount. What would you think of
80,000 ecus a year in sovereignty to
Ernest Augustus ; ought he to con
taminate his ancestors for that, and is it
paying them well enough? And they
offer that the whole army [of Celle]
shall swear allegiance to Ernest Augus
tus, that no officer shall be put in the

fortresses who has not taken oath to him,
and the whole land shall do him hom
age and obey him only, even should sons
be born to George William. [The latter
had married far beneath him, after hav
ing been affianced to Sophia herself and
having promised all his lands to Ernest
Augustus if he would become his sub
stitute. — Ed.] All this wont make it
any more pleasant to me to be brother
and boon companion to a scoupette.
Osnabruck, Nov. 9, 1679.
... I have spoken to Mr. Coppensten
(an official of Charles Louis) concern
ing the proposition that has been made
to us from Celle. It is a very bitter pill
to swallow but if they have gilded it
with 100,000 ecusyearly, in sovereignty,.
we will close our eyes and take it. The
example of the Prince of Orange makes
it easier to bear and Ernest Augustus-
says "the Lord is calling him." My
six sons are growing up, he himself is.
in bad health and would like to see them
well established and secure of the succes
sion so as to have his mind at rest. As.
to me I find the matter very disagreeable.
Osnabruck, Nov. 30, 1679.
Your approbation concerning the
" ancestors " is of no small importance ;
kacken gat vor all and eat one must,
even if the rest has to come after.
Nevertheless it is a disagreeable matter,
although there is a precedent in the
marriage of the prince of Orange whose
wife is of no better birth nor descended
from a more chaste mother. Besides
she only brings him a kingdom in
prospect, whereas here we ask like
Jodelet: " Is it cash down?" And if
it is not, that is, if we are not well
assured of what we are to receive, there
will be no marriage.

The Hanoverian Succession

229

Hanover, March 15, 1680.
[Ernest Augustus has succeeded to
the duchy of Hanover, by the death of
his brother, John Frederick. — Ed.]
Behold us arrived in our princely
palace where it smokes so in every
room that we weep for the defunct
without any difficulty and much to our
own discomfort. We have such a
crowd of retainers that it can be com
pared in a small way to what I saw at
Fontainbleu. If John Frederick gave
90,000 thalers in wages, Ernest Au
gustus will doubtless have to give more
than a hundred thousand ; and, as he
looks at this cortege he can say to him
self : a pretty bill I shall have to pay.
When we go up or down one of the
steps, which are not broad enough to
let a hen pass in comfort we have to
wait an hour before they all file by.
The old squires whose wages were a
pair of boots and a dinner of stockfisch
did just as good service and were better
suited to our palace of wood. Those
were times when the princes sat quietly
round a table weaving nets, with their
servants standing in a row behind them,
while the goblet of Broihan wine, of
which a cask stood ready in the room,
went the rounds from the prince to the
last of his gentlemen who, with a
deep bow, brought it back to the prince
again. That is the way they passed
their days in perfect comfort. At
present Ernest Augustus finds himself
so overwhelmed with matters to at
tend to that he often wishes John Fred
erick were not dead. All the same if
he were to come back he would act
like Pickelhering, — without comparing
them — when he cries out "mein
Mouder, mein Mouder!" whose ghost
he sees appearing. I wish the defunct
might see all the ceremonies with
which he is to be put in the ground :
it would be perfect paradise for him.
The catafalque where the Bishop and

the capuchins are to play their last role
cannot be ready in four weeks. Mean
while the dowager is travelling and they
would like to have everything ready
before she arrives. . . .

2. Extract from Burnet. 1689.
. . . There was a bill of great
importance sent up by the commons to
the lords, that was not finished this ses
sion. It was a bill declaring the rights
and liberties of England, and the suc
cession to the crown, as had been
agreed by both houses of parliament,
to the king and queen and their issue,
and after them, to the princess Anne
and her issue, and after these, to the
king and his issue. A clause was in
serted, disabling all papists from suc
ceeding to the crown, to which the
lords added, or such as should marry
papists. . . . The king ordered me to
propose the naming the duchess of
Hanover, and her posterity, next in the
succession. He signified his pleasure
in this also to the ministers. But he
ordered me to begin the motion in the
house, because I had already set it on
foot. And the duke of Hanover had
now other thoughts of the matter, and
was separating himself from the inter
ests of France. The lords agreed to
the proposition without any opposition.
So it was sent down to the commons.
There were great debates there upon
it. . . . The bill fell for that time:
but it was resolved to take it up at the
opening of the next session. And the
king thought it was not then convenient
to renew the motion of the duchess of
Hanover, of which he ordered me to
write her a particular account. It was
fit once to have the bill passed, that en
acted the perpetual exclusion of all
papists : for that, upon the matter,
brought the succession to their door.
And if any in the line, before her,

230

The Hanoverian Succession

should pretend to change, as it was not
very likely to happen, so it would not
be easily believed. So it was resolved
to carry this matter no further at this
time. The bill passed without any op
position in the beginning of the next
session ; which I mention here, that I
might end this matter all at once.

3. Correspondence of Leibnitz and
the Electress Sophia. (Leibnitz, Werke,
Vol. VIII.) Leibnitz to the Electress.
April 28, 1699.
. . . He, (a Mr. Hakeman) seeks
the privilege of being presented to your
Electoral Highness. He can tell you
particulars about the Duke of Glouces
ter, and I find him well-informed ; hi
has also seen the cleverest people in
England. He says that the English are
thinking and talking a great deal about
the person and posterity of your Elec
toral Highness in the matter of the suc
cession, informing- them selves carefully
about our court; also that several bish
ops asked him for a copy of an extract
from a letter I had written him in
which I had noted how much your
Electoral Highness loved the English
and how you were for a reasonable
freedom of thought both in ecclesiasti
cal and civil matters. And he will be
able to say still more. . . .
The Electress to Leibnitz.
Herrenhausen, Aug. iS, 1700.
. . . They say that the Duke of
Celle will go to Loo, where he can
console the King for the loss of the
Duke of Gloucester, who decamped
three days after they had celebrated his
birthday. I hope that the pleasures of
Lietzenburg will succeed better and
have better results. ... If I were
younger I might be flattered at the idea
of a crown, but at present, if I had the
choice, I should prefer increasing my
years to increasing my glory.

Stepney, an English Friend, to the
Electress.
London, Sept. 11-21, 1700.
... It is to your Electoral High
ness, then, that we must look for the
assurance of our repose and safety, and
would to Heaven, Madame, that I could
take off twenty years of my own life
and make you a present of them. . . .
Electress Sophia to Stepney.
(Without date.)
Sir : I have read with much pleasure
the book and your letter ; I would the
arguments were as probable of the one
as the other is obliging towards me,
and that I might live long enough to
requite by services the affection which
you show me, without derrogating a
moment from your years, with which
you seem to me to be inclined to be too
liberal. Certainly amiability could not
go further. . . .
Were I thirty years younger I should
have a good enough opinion of my
blood and my religion to imagine they
would think of me in England. But
as there is little chance of my surviving
two persons much younger, although
in poorer health than myself, it is to
be feared that after my death they will
regard my sons as strangers, the elder,
indeed, being much more inclined to
play the sovereign than the poor prince
of Wales [the Pretender], who is too
young to profit by the example of the
King of France, and who would be
likely to be so glad at recovering what
the King his father inconsiderately lost
that they might do whatever they pleased
with him. But Prevention does every
thing in England, and to keep to what
you say about it, without starting in to
discuss it by letter I would say that my
daughter has dragged me here, where
she has been taking the waters for three
weeks and that we start Monday to go
by way of Brussels to Holland, where

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The Hanoverian Succession

231

we shall have the honor of seeing the
King. I am neither so philosophical nor so
giddy as you might think not to like
to hear this matter of a crown dis
cussed, and to reflect on your sound
arguments on the subject. It seems to
me that in England there are so many
factions one can be sure of nothing.
That does not keep me from feeling
very much obliged to those who show
attachment to me and my descendants,
and as regards you in particular I shall
remember it all my life. . . .

4. Unsigned and undated Letter,
in English, to the Electress Sophia.
Madam : I have of late forborn im
portuning you by my letters, being
rather desirous to show my zeal by ser
vices than by words. To-morrow
comes on the grand debate which is to
decide the point of succession whereon
depend the hopes of all honest men. I
am not of the parliament, but have had
a greater opportunity (than if I had been
in the House) to promote, as far as a
private man can do, the interest of Your
Electoral Highness and your family,
being equally acquainted with both
parties, and having thereby a singular
occasion of discovering their different
designs and inclinations. That Your
Highness may perceive 1 am no stranger
to them, I beg leave to represent you
the method wherein I believe the House
' will proceed.
The party which has been known by
the name of Whigs (not to mention par
ticular names)will propose the question
as follows : —
" it is the opinion of this committy
" that for the peace and happiness of
" England and for the security of the
" protestant religion it ;s absolutely
" necessary that a further declar-
" at ion of the Limitation and suc
cession of the Crown of England

" be made in the Protestant Line
"after the King and the Princess
" and the failure of the Heirs of their
" Bodies respectively.
The words : "Further declaration in
the protestant line" will furnish some
matter of dispute, and the Tories will
raise objections. But if they continue
violent, the Whigs will propose an
hampering question to this effect : " that
for the quieting the minds of His Maj
esty's protestant subjects and the better
ascertaining the succession of the Crown
pursuant to an Act declaring the Rights
and Liberties of the subjects and set
tling the succession of the Crown, pro
vision be made by express words for
excluding any child or pretended child
of the late King James, other than the
Princess Anne of Denmark." — This
will certainly be carried by a majority,
for whatever people may be in their
hearts, few will appear so open at this
time as to declare for St. Germains,
which those do in effect who dissent
from the question as it is here stated.
A weak effort will be made in favour
of the person of prince George, suppos
ing he should survive the Princess of
Denmark. Your Electoral Highness
will easily imagine that this motion
proceeds from creatures of the Marl
borough family. But their interest is
not of any weight, besides the preten
sion is groundless. But from that error
we shall be led into the right channel,
and come into the direct protestant
Line, beginning from your Electoral
Highness as the root, then to the
Elector and the Electoral prince. This
I am as morally assured of, as it is pos
sible to be in a matter of this nature,
which depends on the humours and
wills of 513 members. It is our happi
ness that the major part of them are
honest and true to the interest of their
country, and those that are otherwise,
will only discover their ill-will.

232

The Hanoverian Succession

I forbear mentioning the other princes
of Your Highness' family. The two
who are at Vienna seem to obstruct (at
least for the present) a further entail
upon a suggestion which, I am per
suaded, is very malicious, as if they
were not firm to the protestant religion,
which is the foundation of this debate.
This is an unhappy accident, but what
I have already mentioned, is a sufficient
provision for the present and will be
matter of comfort to all good men.
The contents of this letter are of so
delicate a nature at this conjuncture and
till the parliament has actually declared
their opinion, that I beg leave to con
ceal my name : my hand and heart have
the honour to be known to your Elect
oral Highness, and no man living can
be with more zeal and veneration,
Madam, Your Electoral Highness' most
humble and most obedient servant.
Stepney to Leibnitz.
Vienna, May I, 1701.
. . . The matter of which your letter
treats [the vote of parliament], was
concluded exactly the day that I left
London, and in the way which I sup
posed it would in the second letter
which I had the honour of writing to
the Electress on this subject. I have
just been congratulating her with all
my heart ; for besides the advantage
which will accrue to her house through
this declaration of Parliament, I look
upon it as the best step which our
nation could take to secure our religion
and our quiet, in spite of the anger
which the Duke of Savoy and others
may feel ; for it is beyond all doubt
that a disposition made by a King full
of life and good sense, with the con
sent of the States of the realm, is a
hundred times more valid than that
which has just been made by a Prince
weak in every respect and a cabal of
interested people.

The English nation was so well dis
posed to the succession, at the King's
recommendation, that there was no
need of pamphlets to prepare men's
minds, or of men of talent to conduct
the affair ; otherwise I am persuaded
that they could not have chosen for that
service a person more capable than
yourself. . . . Since the affair has gone
off so well, we have all the better
reason to be satisfied.

5. Extract from Burnet.
. . . The most important debates
that were in this session began in the
house of lords ; the queen being present
at them all. The lord Haversham . . .
said we had declared a successor to
the crown who was at a great distance
from us, while the pretender was much
nearer, and Scotland was armed and
ready to receive him, and seemed re
solved not to have the same successor
for whom England had declared : these
were threatening dangers that hung
over us, and might be near us. He
concluded, that he did not see how they
could be prevented, and the nation made
safe, by any other way, but by inviting
the next successor to come and live
among us. ... It appeared, through
our whole history, that whosoever came
first into England had always carried
it : the pretending successor might be
in England within three days, whereas
it might be three weeks before the de
clared successor could come : from
thence it was inferred, that the danger
was apparent and dreadful, if the suc
cessor should not be brought over : if
King Charles had been in Spain when
the late king died, probably that would
have prevented all this war in which
we were now engaged. . . .
The queen heard the debate, and
seemed amazed at the behaviour of
some, who, when they had credit with

The Hanoverian Succession

233

her, and apprehended that such a
motion might be made by the whigs,
had possessed her with deep prejudices
against it : for they made her appre
hend, that when the next successor
should be brought over, she herself
would be so eclipsed by it, that she
would be much in the successor's
power, and reign only at her or his
courtesy : yet these very persons, hav
ing now lost their interest in her, and
their posts, were driving on that very
motion, which they had made her ap
prehend was the most fatal thing that
could befall. This the Duchess of
Marlborough told me, but she named
no person. . . .
Some indigent persons, and others
•employed by the tories, had studied to
infuse jealousies of the queen and her
ministers into the old electress. She
was then seventy-five ; but had still so
much vivacity, that as she was the
most knowing, and the most entertain
ing woman of the age, so she seemed
willing to change her scene, and to
come and shine among us here in Eng
land ; they prevailed with her to write
a letter to the archbishop of Canterbury,
intimating her readiness to come over,
if the queen and parliament should de
sire it ; this was made public by the in
triguing persons in that court.

6. Letter of the Electress Sophia to
the Archbishop of Canterbury. Trans
lation. Herrenhausen, Nov. 5, 1705.
My Lord : . . . I thank Heaven that
I am in good health and that I live here
in peace and quiet, so that I have no
reason to wish for a different kind of
life, so far as I personally am concerned.
However I am ready to do anything
that my friends desire of me in case
Parliament should think it necessary for
me to cross the water. In that case I
trust such measures could be taken that
my arrival would in no way be unpleas

ant for the Queen, whom I shall never
cease to honor, and that I am eager for
the favour of which she has given me so
many proofs by what she has done
for me in England and Scotland, you
yourself can best bear witness ; and it is
with much pleasure that I learn that her
Majesty has ordered my name to be
inserted in the prayers in the churches.

7. Letter of Leibnitz to the Rheingra-
vine, Lady of the Household of the
Electress. Wolfenbuttel, Sept. I, 1712.
Madame : I take the liberty of send
ing your Excellency the enclosed English
memorandum to be communicated to the
Electress as a mark of my devotion. It
is sent me by a former German acquaint
ance who resides in England and has
been drawn up, he says, by a lawyer of
skill and reputation, who, with his
friends is very loyal to the House of
Hanover. His name is Roger Acherly
Esquire. . . . Alcmoir. Sept. 1, 171 2.
That in regard the Queen of Great
Britain has solemnly declared from the
Throne : that the securing the succession
to that House lyes nearest her Heart,
and that she has taken care, that the
Person who pretends to disturb it, be
removed out of the French Dominions :
Now in regard these expressions are
general :
Let it be insisted on at the General
Treaty of Peace ( Utrecht~) on the
part ofthe House of Hanover : That
the successor, or one or more of that
House, may have a House and a
Revenue assigned to them in Eng
land, and may have an Attorney
General and other Ojficers assigned
to them to take care of their Afi'airs,
as the first Princes of the Blood.
This will try those Ministers who
advised the Queen to make that speech,

234

The Hanoverian Succession

whether they really meant anything for
the Good of the House of Hanover or
not. If the British Plenipotentiaries oppose
such a reasonable Article,
Then the House of Hanover may
take their measures. If it be reason
able to insist that the Pretender should
be removed out of the Dominions of the
Enemy (France) , it is as reasonable to
insist that the Rightfull Successor should
have a Room and be within the Domin
ions he is entitled to.
The presence of the next Successor
would encourage and inspirit his Friends
and discourage his Enemies. Posses
sion in this case is of inestimable advan
tage. The refusal of such a Reasonable
Demand would give the successor a very
good colour to complaine and would
load his enemies with obloquy, as
secretly endeavouring to deprive him.
Leibnitz to the Electress Sophia.
(Undated.)
. . . They keep saying that the Queen
of Great Britain is dead. I shall not
believe it until she is buried. It would
be a queer idea of the good God to give
her your Electoral Highness as succes
sor. Altogether, Madame, God's good
ness towards you is so great that one
need not give up hoping. Your Elec
toral Highness and I (if I may dare to
include myself) will wait very patiently
for what He has decreed about it. Un
less one of those gentlemen of the
British ministry writes to your Electoral
Highness I will not believe that the
Queen is so far gone.
The Electress Sophia to Leibnitz.
Hanover, April 27, 1 71 3.
. . . Poor Dr. Hutton had so
often preached to me that the Queen
could not live. She is well, while he
is already in the other world. I be
lieve I remain so long in this one be
cause I keep my mind so tranquil. I

have lost so many children from my
sight, yet their loss touches me as little
as could well be the case. I have also-
to console myself for the fact that the
one who is living (George I.) can not
bear the sight of me any more and
wishes to live as if he were dead to
me. The worst of it is that I think he
is in the hands of the Devil who does
wicked things with him, while the
others are with the good God.
The Electress Sophia to Leibnitz.
Hanover, Dec. 27, 1 713.
You may be sure, Sir, that of all the-
letters this festal time has procured me
yours has been the most welcome. You
do well to begin your good wishes with
the throne of England, for in truth
they are there most needed, and in spite
of all the fine things your newspapers
tell you, it seems to me every thing is
going from bad to worse. As for me,
I am a woman and love to flatter my
self and I hope that the worst of mat
ters will turn out to the advantage of
the family. I accept your comparison
with Queen Elizabeth, although it does
me too much honor, as of good au
gury. Her right was disputed by a
jealous and ill-humored sister and she
was never sure of it until she came to
the throne.
The Electress Sophia to Leibnitz.
Hanover, Feb. 29, 1714.
. . . The romance of the Princess
Eleanor has at last ended with marriage
and will have a fine place, as he tells
me, in the Duke of Brunswick's novel,
at which he is still working so as to
finish it before his death. As for
mine, it would be more glorious if,
according to your wishes, my bones
might be interred at Westminster.
. . . All this talk of the succession
vexes and annoys me. So many books
are written for or against that I dont
take the trouble to look at them. . . .

Viro Nobili-ftimo IOAKTSfl WALK. AVETSUerenifWi Sleetori*

 .. ¦-. ..... ¦

The Hanoverian Succession

235

March 7.
. . . Queen Anne is splendidly
well. She will have to hurry up and
die if I am to be queen as you desire.
Leibnitz to the Electress Sophia.
April 7, 1 714.
... If Mr. Hariey is delayed by
the weight of the chests of silver he is
bringing to enable your Electoral High
ness to have a fine English court, as
they say he is in the papers, we will
pardon him his slowness. ... If he
merely comes to preach to us that the
Protestant succession is in no danger
he might have kept his arguments for
the Coffee-houses of London.
The Electress to Leibnitz.
Hanover, May 20th, 1714.
. . . Mr. Hariey' s mission con
sisted only in letters of the Queen and
my Lord of Oxford who say very posi
tively that her Majesty is altogether in
favor of furthering the Protestant re
ligion by the succession in our house —
this in the most explicit terms that
could be employed. Nevertheless the
people thought Hariey had come to in
vite me to go to England ; of which
indeed there was not the least mention.
... I did however, order Baron
Schiitz to ask the chancellor if the
Electoral Prince [later George II] as
Duke of Cambridge ought not to have
a writ of summons to parliament. The
Chancellor . . . sent the writ to
Schiitz. But afterwards the Queen
had Cotterel forbid him the Court.
. . . Mr. Hariey offered me a pen
sion from the Queen, which I was hon
est enough to refuse, saying that I de
sired one by the good pleasure of her
Majesty and the parliament, as heir
presumptive of the throne, in imitation
of her Majesty, who did the same
when she was offered one by King
William. . . . The Queen seems to
be pretty well, and, according to the

Flemish proverb " creaking carts go
far." As to me, I consider myself in
much greater danger, being past 83,
although feeling splendidly for that.
9. Letter of Queen Anne to the
Elector of Hanover (George I.). (In
Macpherson' s Original Papers. Lon
don, 1775. Vol. II. p. 621.)
May 19-30, 1714.
As the rumour increases, that my
cousin, the Electoral Prince, has re
solved to come over to settle, in my life
time, in my dominions I do not choose
to delay a moment to write to you
about this, and to communicate to you
my sentiments, upon a subject of this
importance. I then freely own to you, that I
cannot imagine, that a prince who
possesses the knowledge and penetra
tion of your Electoral Highness, can
ever contribute to such an attempt ; and
that I believe you are too just to allow,
that any infringement shall be made on
my sovereignty which you would not
choose should be made on your own.
I am firmly persuaded that you would
not suffer the smallest diminution of
your authority. I am no less delicate
in that respect ; and I am determined
to oppose a project so contrary to my
royal authority, however fatal the con
sequences may be.
Your Electoral Highness is too just
to refuse to bear me witness, that I
gave, on all occasions, proofs of my
desire that your family should succeed
to my crowns, which I always recom
mend to my pe9ple as the most solid
support of their religion and their laws.
I employ all my attentions that nothing
should efface those impressions from
the hearts of my subjects : but it is not
possible to derogate from the dignity
and prerogatives of the prince who
wears the crown, without making a
dangerous breach on the rights of the
successors ; therefore, I doubt not.

236

The Hanoverian Succession

but with your usual wisdom, you will
prevent the taking such a step ; and
that you will give me an opportunity of
renewing to you, assurances of the
most sincere friendship with which
I am, etc.
Dean Swift to the Earl of Peterbor
ough.
(Swift's Works. Sir Walter Scott's
Edition. Vol. XVI. p. 109.)
London, May 18, 1714.
... I was told, the other day, of an
answer you made to somebody abroad,
who inquired of you the state and dis
positions of our court: "That you
could not tell, for you had been out of
England a fortnight." . . . The queen
is pretty well at present ; but the least
disorder she has puts all in alarm ; and
when it is over, we act as if she were
immortal. ... It is impossible to tell
you whether the Prince of Hanover in
tends to come over or not. I should
think the latter, by the accounts I have
seen ; yet our adversaries continue
strenuously to assert otherwise. . . .
This formidable journey is the per
petual subject both of court and coffee
house chat.

10. Letters of Mr. Molyneux, an
Envoy, to Lord Marlborough. (In
Coxe : Marlborough, Vol. VI. p. 281.)
Hanover, Thursday, June 'j, 17 14.
I am directed by the electress to send
your grace the inclosed, which arrived
in Hanover, by express, on Tuesday,
but were not delivered till yesterday at
noon. I have not time, or I had trans
lated the queen's for you ; but my lord
will explain them to you, and let you
know that there is no hand villainous
enough to write them, but that one
from whence they come. This court
is so openly honest in their proceedings,
that they would be glad to disperse
these letters among their friends in
England ; whereas their correspond

ence is so false and hidden, as that the
express declared, till the moment the
letters were read, that they were to in
vite the prince over, and I would lay
my life the ministers declare the same
in London. Hanover, June 10, i7H-
The last post I finished my letters
about six in the evening. Not an hour
after the post went, I went directly
afterwards to Herrenhausen, the coun
try house of the court, and there the
first thing I heard was, that the good
old electress was just dying in one of
the public walks. I ran up there and
found her just expiring in the arms of
the poor electoral princess, and amidst
the tears of a great many of her ser
vants, who endeavoured in vain to help
her. I can give you no account of her
illness, but that I believe the chagrin of
those villainous letters I sent you last
post has been in a great measure the
cause of it. The Rheingravine, who
has been with her these fifteen years,
has told me she never knew any thing
make so deep an impression on her
as the affair of the prince's journey,
which, I am sure, she had to the last
degree at heart ; and she has done me
the honour to tell me so twenty times.
In the midst of this concern those
letters arrived, and those I verily be
lieve have broke her heart, and brought
her with sorrow to the grave. The
letters were delivered on Wednesday
at noon. That evening when I came
to court, she was at cards, but was so
full of these letters, that she got up and
ordered me to follow her into the
garden, where she gave them to me to
read, and walked, and spoke a great
deal in relation to them. I believe she
walked three hours that night. The
next morning, which was Thursday, I
heard she was out of order ; and on
going immediately to court, she ordered
me to be called into her bedchamber.

The Hanoverian Succession

23 7

She gave me the letters I sent you to
copy ; she bid me send them next post,
and bring them afterwards to her to
court. That was on Friday. In the
morning on Friday, they told me she
was very well, but seemed very cha
grined. She was dressed, and dined
with the elector as usual. About four
she did me the honour to send me to
town, for some other copies of the
same letters, and then she was still
perfectly well. She worked and talked
very heartily in the Orangerie. After
that, and about six, she went out to
walk in the gardens, and was still very
well. A shower of rain came, and as

she was walking pretty fast, to get to
shelter, they told her she walked a little
too fast. She answered, " I believe I
do," and dropped down in saying those
words, which were her last. They
raised her up, chaffed her with spirits,
tried to bleed her ; but it was all in
vain, and when I came up to her, she
was as dead as if she had been four
days so. No princess ever died more
regretted, and I infinitely pity those
servants, that have known her a long
time, when I that have had the honour
to be known to her but a month, can
scarce refrain from tears in relating
this.

GROUP XXV.

GEORGE I. AND THE PRINCESS OF AHLDEN.

1. An Account of the Divorce of
George of Hanover from Sophia Doro
thea of Celle. Published in 1695. (In
Historische Zeitschrift, Vol. 48, p.
232.) Translated.
[The emendations in italics were
made by Madame, the Duchess of Or
leans, and the well-known Leibnitz.
It must be remembered that they were
both warm friends of the House of Han
over. The whole matter of Konigs
mark' s disappearance is shrouded in
mystery/ The guilt of the Princess is
an open question. This account is the
least distorted and the most moderate
of any that has come down to us. The
details that ordinarily pass current to
day are taken from a novel written by
the Duke of Brunswick- Wolfenbiittel.
The "Memoirs of Sophia Dorothea"
are an arrant forgery. — Ed.]
When the Duchess of Celle [Eleo-
nora D'Olbreuse] was called plain
Madame de Harburg they had thought
of marrying her daughter to young
Count Konigsmark, inasmuch as they
had loved each other from childhood.

( The late Countess Konigsmark -when
she was at Hamburg had taken steps
in this matter with regard to the
Count' s older brother -who died in the
Alorea ; but they were only children
then and they would not hear of the
proposition at Celle.) But Chancellor
Schutz, for his own private advantage,
furthered that of Madame of Celle to
the extent of having her daughter de
clared countess (princess, rather') and
engaged to the young prince of Wol
fenbiittel who was killed before Philips-
burg. The prince of Nassau, governor
of Friesland, then tried to get her by the
intrigues of a certain Villiers, and the
mother entered into it to some extent.
But the Duke of Hanover [Ernest
Augustus] being informed of it and
fearing that the rich dowry which the
duke of Celle [George William] meant
to give his daughter might escape him,
made up his mind at last to the marriage
he had long scorned, and one fine day
the duchess of Hanover [Sophia] went
to the duke of Celle, who was still in
bed to declare this resolution to him

238 George I. and the Princess of Ahlden

and to demand his daughter in marriage
for her son [George I.] {A falsehood.
The electress of Brunswick had noth
ing to do with this marriage, of which
she did not approve.') The affair was
soon settled, and one of the conditions
of the match was that there should
henceforward be the right of primogen
iture. [Hanover and Celle were to
form one duchy, which should not be
subdivided among the heirs. — Ed.]
Thus the marriage was consummated
rather from motives of interest than
from affection. {Falsehood. The
prince really loved his wife.) [But
consult Sophia' sown letters ! — Ed.] But
this constraint was soon thrown aside ;
they began to show coldness to the
princess and soon treated her with in
dignity. The prince considered her
his inferior, and being quick-tempered
did not keep his hands off her. The
guards noticed it, and they say he even
drew his sword. They reproached the
princess with her birth ; she complained
of it to her father and mother. But the
mother could only urge her to be patient,
and the father said a woman ought to
adapt herself to the disposition of her
husband. (As many falsehoods as
there are words. They treated her
-with all the regard imaginable [Oh
no, they did not ! — Ed. J the electoral
prince took good care not to beat her.
Those who believe or write such things
do not in the least know the prince,
or rather do not know the way in
which persons of this quality live.
The most that could have happened is
that when the princess had committed
many improper actions the prince may
have said a few sharp words to Jier.
It is true she sometimes complained to
her father and mother, heaping up
falsehoods, for there was much 7nalice
in her nature. Aloreover they would
never have believed her so guilty at
Celle if her letters liad not been

produced.) In the meanwhile Count
Konigsmark came to take service in
Hanover and the old feeling of tender
ness revived. He ruined himself in
balls and gifts that he might find oppor
tunities to speak to the princess but was
chiefly able to recover his place in her
affections because the princess was not
happy. It happened in the interval
that the intrigues of the princes Max
imilian and Charles [George's younger
brothers] were discovered and that the
idea was conceived, for the better es
tablishing of the primogeniture, of hav
ing the ninth electorate founded. The
endeavor was dashed at Augsburg by
the opposition of the duke of Celle.
They then set to work to win him over.
M. Grote had in vain endeavoured to
make this duke abdicate, but at any rate
they gained his consent to the electorate.
[It was established in 1692. — Ed.]
(Falsehood. They took good care not
to make any such proposition to the
Duke of Celle.) During this time they
were quite amiable to the princess in
order not to vex her father. But once
having gained the investiture with the
electorate they went back to their old
manner of treatment. Countess Platen
[Mistress of Ernest Augustus] had
shown great attentions to Konigsmark,
to bring him to marry her daughter,
but when she saw she was being looked
upon as a dupe she set to work to re
venge herself. In order to foster the
bad state of affairs between the prince
and the princess she made use of one
of her own relatives (Schwarz), that
she might be head of a dynasty of
ministers. But the prince's love was
not as constant as his father's; he soon
tired of this painted beauty, and sought
other objects, even married women,
with whom he did not stand badly.
The princess was irritated at it more
and more and complained in vain to
her father. She also had a falling out

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,„,.»•'«*''¦¦« NaTA JQUCJSS/V iBBUNSl" • -"-' ¦ :

.**. T\1*. ;,Kl.

George I. and the Princess of Ahlden 239

with the Electress of Brandenburg
[Sophie Charlotte, her sister-in-law],
"because one day the princess said to the
Electress : Madame, you are unusually
"beautiful to-day ; the Electress replied
that she had her ordinary color and
that she did not paint like many other
people ; whereupon the princess, who
was piqued, having provoked her into
washing, the Electress, greatly annoyed
took occasion to harm her enemy by
telling the prince her brother a thou-
.sand tales that she had heard ; this, al
though he knew only too much already,
helped to goad him on still more.
( This story is a pure invention. It
is true the Electress and the princess
had not seen each other for two years
or more, but that was for another
reason. When the opera house seemed
to be on fire, Count Konigsmark
cried eagerly, save the electoral prin
cess ; and as, in the confusion, the
gentleman in waiting could not at
first be found, the count, mistaking
the electress for the princess in the
darkness gave her his hand to take
her out of the crush. But having
perceived his error he quitted her
brusquely to run to the princess, and
the electress, since the others had
seen that the count was taking care
of her, was left alone until Prince
Alaximilian, perceiving it, extricated
her from the crowd. The electress
having rallied her a little on it, the
princess was mortally ofiended.)
Meanwhile the count, seeing that they
were being watched more than usual,
resolved to leave and to take service
with the elector of Saxony. But at
Dresden he was foolish enough to
speak of things about which he might
better have kept quiet. One of the
elector's councillors, fearing lest this
count should establish himself at Dres
den, betrayed him and everything was
made known at Hanover. Whereupon

it was resolved to get rid of the count,
who never meant to return there but
only to leave with a good grace.
Meanwhile the measures were taken ;
Countess Platen undertook to carry
them out (falsehood); Italians were
not lacking at Hanover. ( The elector
of Brunswick had enough faithful
servitors in his own land, not to need
Italians), and the count disappeared
the day before the one fixed for his de
parture. If one undertook to report
all the rumors on this subject one could
' fill a volume. The most frequent one
is that he was despatched very quickly.
His servants suspected nothing at first
and his secretary was imprudent enough
not to put away his papers ; he even
went at last to enquire what he should
do about them. (Some have accusea1
him of dealings with the count's
enemies, but that is not apparent.)
Under pretext that they were state
papers in which they were interested,
they went there and found only top
much. There was a packet of all the
letters the countess (sic) had written
him for a long time back. The prin
cess was taken to Ahlden and then to
Lauenau. Meanwhile in order to
appease the duke of Celle and make
him approve the steps taken, they
showed him the letters, some of which
spoke ill enough of himself. There
was one where the princess, displeased
-at having complained in vain to her
• father of the love affairs of her husband
says: this old dotard, because he has
been a rake all his life, thinks that no
one could live without being one.
(The terms used were a little differ
ent. It seems she laughed at the
goodness and credulity of the duke
her father. He is in his dotage, she
said, which is a sign that he will still
live a long time.) Finally the duke
of Celle lent his hand to the divorce.
They had long cherished this plan, but

240 George I. and the Princess of Ahlden

out of consideration for the duke of
Celle had been obliged to keep it
secret ; now they considered the con
juncture favorable for bringing it
forward. They formed a council com
posed of clergy and seculars from the
courts of Hanover and Celle. There
the matter was gone into. The coun
cil tried at first to patch up matters ;
the prince, knowing that the princess
would not return to him, offered to re
ceive her back. (Madame ^Eliza
beth Charlotte^ remarks on this that
tliere are no signs that the electoral
prince -would have been "willing to re
ceive her back. She says the prin
cess was crazy enough to tie up if she
refused to return and made such pro
positions, which are indeed fictitious ;
all the more since she ought to think
of her much inferior birth and to
consider it a great honor even to be
endured after those other galanterics
that made her conduct suspected —
as when formerly at Celle she almost
forced young Haxthausen to receive
her letters, which proved the ruin of
this young man at that court, not to
speak of her passion for the Rhein-
graf nor the liberties she took at
Venice of which certain Frenchmen,
like the marquis de la Seve, I think,
BlancJicfort and others told stories at
the court of France.) The princess
would not listen to it [the idea of
returning to her husband] except on con
dition that the count be liberated, thus to
justify her innocence, that the countess
Platen should be sent away, and that her
husband should treat her better. She
was refused these conditions. And
thereupon the council pronounced
sentence of divorce on the basis of
desertion, with the clause that the
prince might marry again ; but as the
laws forbid it to the guilty party they
put it into these same terms. They
simply let it go by default. The prin

cess's advocate acted throughout the
whole trial like a simpleton or a rogue.
He had no plea to urge against the
sentence except that of supplication
with which he began. ( What other
means could he use, since tn this
matter appeals to tribunals of the
empire are not in order?) The
princess was taken back to Ahlden
where she will pass her time none
too pleasantly.

2. Protocol of Report of Celle Min
isters. (Historische Zeitschrift, Vol.
4s- P- 43-) Aug. 5, 1694.
Report of what passed at Ahlden.
Object of the journey had been to lay
before the princess the true state of
affairs — that everything had been com
pletely laid bare and that there was no
need of denial or hesitation ; to tell her
just what was to be made public on our
parts, and just how she would have to
conduct herself when the question of
divorce came up. She testified to the
completest repentance in the world ;
condemned herself, indeed, recognizing
that she had merited all that had hap
pened to her and more too ; asked for
pardon, placing great confidence in the
generosity of the Elector ; seemed to
have a dread of the electoral prince.
She wished to deny having come to-
actual crime ; recognized that the ap
pearances were such that any one must
condemn her, and that therefore in this
regard her innocence could serve only
for her own internal satisfaction. . . .
She would consent to the separation,
saw that it could not well be otherwise ;
was of opinion that the scanty friend
ship, or rather aversion the prince
had felt for her for years had brought
her to this unhappy condition ; had not
thought she could ever right herself
again in his eyes; adding that before
his journey to Berlin he had said :

George I. and the Princess of Ahlden 241

" This constraint is too much; on my
return I shall write to your father and
demand a separation." With such pre
vious intentions it was easy to imagine,
now that this misfortune had come, what
he would do. Let them tell her how
to act and she would obey. She con
sidered it a great blessing that God
through this misfortune would with
draw her from a world to which she
had entirely given herself up, and
would give her an opportunity to think
on God and her salvation ; that she
would hope to prove an example of
piety, even as she had hitherto of
scandal. [She was kept in confinement more
than thirty years and never allowed to
see either of her children, George II,
or Sophia Dorothea, wife of Frederick
William I.— Ed. J

3. General Stanhope to the Emperor
of the Romans, Charles VI. (Leibnitz,
Werke,Vol. IX. p. 504.) Translation.
London, July 3oth-August 10, 1714.
[Less than two months after the
death of the Electress Sophia. — Ed.]
Sire : I think I can with certainty at
this present moment send word to your
Imperial and Christian Majesty that the
Queen is in the last agonies. After
having felt unwell for two days she was
seized with an attack of apoplexy,
which lasted two hours, during which
she was bereft of all sensation. She
recovered a little about eleven o'clock
and the council which had assembled
profited by this interval of health to
gain the Queen's consent to nominate
the Duke of Shrewsbury as Grand
Treasurer, in place of the five commis
sioners who had been spoken of and
who were to have been subordinated to
Lord Bolingbroke as prime minister.
The council continues in session and
gives all the orders necessary to main
tain the public tranquility and enable

Monseigneur the Elector (George I.)
to take sure possession. At three
o'clock this afternoon the four physi
cians declared to the council that
the remedies they had essayed, two
very violent emetics, had had no
effect and according to the pre
cepts of their art she could not live
twelve hours. This sudden and unex
pected accident is like a thunderbolt f or
the Jacobite party which has taken no
measures in advance for the success of
their project ; and I can assure your
Imperial and Christian Majesty, that if
the physicians have guessed rightly,
Monseigneur the Elector of Hanover
will be proclaimed King and will take
possession of the kingdom as peace
fully as any of his predecessors have
done. It is true that if the illness
should drag along, even if only for a
few weeks, we might be seriously em
barrassed ; but all who have seen the
Queen and spoken to the physicians
are perfectly in accord that to-morrow
will see the end of matters. I con
sidered, Sire, that it was my duty to
communicate to your Imperial and
Christian Majesty all that I could learn
in so delicate a conjuncture. I hope
that I am saying nothing new when I
assure you that all honorable people
here are just as outraged at the perfidy
of the last ministry towards your
Majesty as any Austrian or Spaniard
could be and that they will contribute
their utmost, when an occasion shall
present itsself to atone for this national
infamy (the peace of Utrecht). And
I flatter myself, Sire, that I have not
been mistaken so often as I have said
to our friends of the good party that
your Imperial and Christian Majesty
would always consider it your interest
to keep England free, to uphold the
rights there of the House of Brunswick,
and to protect us in case of need against
the common enemy. God grant that

242 George I. and the Princess of Ahlden

this good understanding, which had
engendered such glorious successes,
may be continually renewed. Mean
while I humbly beg your Majesty to
believe, that I am and ever will be,
Sire, your Imperial and Christian
Majesty's very humble, very obedient
and very devoted servant.

4. Letter of Lady Mary Wortley
Montague to her Husband. (Works,
Vol. I. p. 244.) [York.] , 1 7 14.
I went with my cousin to-day to see
the king proclaimed, which was done;
the archbishop walking next the lord
mayor, ' and all the country gentry
following, with greater crowds of
people than I believed to be in York,
vast acclamations and the appearance
of a general satisfaction ; the Pre
tender afterwards dragged about the
streets and burned ; ringing of bells,
bonfires and illuminations, the mob
crying liberty and property, and long
live King George ! This morning all
the principal men of any figure took
post for London, and we are alarmed
with the fear of attempts from Scot
land, though all the Protestants here
seem unanimous for the Hanover suc
cession.

5. Lord Chesterfield's character of
George I. (Works, London, 1845, Vol.,
II. p. 432.)
George the First was an honest, dull,
German gentleman, as unfit as unwill
ing to act the part of a King, which is
to shine and to oppress. Lazy and
inactive even in his pleasures, which
were therefore lowly sensual. He was
coolly intrepid, and indolently benevo
lent. He was diffident of his own
parts, which made him speak little in
public, and prefer in his social, which
were his favourite, hours the company
of wags and buffoons. Even . . . the
Duchess of Kendal, with whom he

passed most of his time, and who had
all influence over him, was very little
above an idiot.
Importunity alone could make him
act, and then only to get rid of it. His
views and affections were singly con
fined to the narrow compass of his
Electorate ; England was too big for
him. If he had nothing great as a
King, he had nothing bad as a man ;
and if he does not adorn, at least he
will not stain, the annals of this coun
try. In private life he would have'
been loved and esteemed as a good
citizen, a good friend, and a good
neighbour. Happy were it for Europe,
happy for the world , if there were not
greater kings in it !

6. Letters of Count Broglio to the
King of France. (In Belsham, History
of Great Brittain, London, 1805. Vol.
III. Appendix, p. 539.) July 6, 1724.
As the duchess of Kendal seemed to
express a desire to see me often, I
have been very attentive to her, being
convinced that it is highly essential to
the advancement of your majesty's
service to be on good terms with her ;
for she is closely united to the three
ministers who now govern, and these
ministers are in strict union together,
and are, as far as I can judge, Well "in
clined. They visit me very frequently
both together and singly, and I behave
to them in the same manner. . . .
Lord Townshend and Mr. Walpole have;
been lately indisposed, but they are
now quite recovered. It is much to be
wished that they should remain in
power. . . . They possess an un
bounded influence over the King and
the duchess of Kendal ; they enjoy the
whole power of government, and the
entire confidence of the King.
The prince of Wales endeavours to
obtain information of what passes from

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George I. and the Princess of Ahlden 243

persons who are attached to him, but
he learns nothing either from the king,
the duchess, or the ministers. The
king goes every afternoon at five o'clock
to the duchess, the ministers occa
sionally attend, and it is there that
affairs which require secresy are
treated. . . . July 10.
The more I consider state affairs, the
more I am convinced that the govern
ment is entirely, in the hands of Mr.
Walpole, lord Townshend, and the
duke of Newcastle, who are on the best
terms with the duchess of Kendal.
The king visits her every afternoon
from five to eight ; and it is there that
she endeavours to penetrate the senti
ments of his Britannic majesty. . . .
I am convinced that she may be ad
vantageously employed in promoting
your majesty's service, and that it will
be necessary to employ her : though I
would not trust her farther than is
absolutely necessary. . . .
It is much to be wished, for the
maintenance of the union between your
majesty and the king of England, that
no misfortune may happen to Mr.
Walpole, he being absolutely the helm
of government. The king cannot do
without him, on account of his great
influence in the house of commons,
where he depends entirely upon him in
every respect. He is a man of great
abilities, and very enterprising. The
house places a most unreserved con
fidence in him, and he has the address
to persuade them that the national
honour is dearer to him than all the
wealth in the world. He is very ably
seconded by Townshend, who is a man
•of great capacity, and with whom he is
in perfect harmony. The duke of
Newcastle, who is indebted to him for
his situation, submits to his judgment
in everything ; so that the king experi
ences no contradiction to his wishes,

but leaving the internal government
entirely to Walpole, is more engaged
with the German ministers, in regula
ting the affairs of Hanover, than occu
pied with those of England. It is to
be observed, that Mr. Walpole adjusted
the quarrel between the king and the
prince of Wales. . . . For some years
past the king has not spoke a word to
the prince, nor the prince to him.
The princess of Wales sometimes in
public attacks the king in conversation ;
he answers her ; but some who are
well apprized that his majesty likes her
no better than the prince, have assured
me, that he only speaks to her on these
occasions for the sake of decorum. . . .
The king has no predilection for the
English nation, and never receives in
private any English of either sex.
None even of his principal officers are
admitted to his chamber in a morning
to dress him, nor in the evening to
undress him. These offices are per
formed by the Turks who are his valet-
de-chambres, and who give him every
thing he wants in private. He rather
considers England as a temporary
possession, to be made the most of
while it lasts, than as a perpetual
inheritance to himself and family. He
will have no disputes with the parlia
ment, but commits the entire transac
tion of that business to Walpole. . . .
[Green says : ' ' under the two sov
ereigns who followed Anne the power
of the Crown lay absolutely dormant.
They were strangers, to whom loyalty
in its personal sense was impossible ;
and their character as nearly approached
insignificance as it is possible for human
character to approach it." — Ed.]

7. Appendix to Horace Walpole,
Memoirs of George II., Vol. III.
I learned from Henrietta, Countess
of Suffolk . . . the fact mentioned in

244 George I. and the Princess of Ahlden

text, of George the First burning his
wife's testament. That Princess, the
Electress of Hanover, liked the famous
Count Konigsmark, while her husband
was at the army. The old Elector,
father of George the First, ordered him
away. The Electress, then Hereditary
Princess, was persuaded to let him kiss
her hand before his departure. She
saw him in bed — he retired, and was
never heard of more. When George
the Second went first to Hanover after
his father's death, and made some
alterations in the palace, the body of
Konigsmark was found under the floor
of the chamber next to the Electress' s
chamber. He had been strangled im
mediately on leaving her, by the old
Elector's order, and buried under the
floor. This fact Queen Caroline re
lated to my father, Sir Robert Wal
pole. George the Second told it to his
wife. . . . The Electress was separated
from George I. on that amour, and was
called Duchess of Halle ( ?) ; and he

married the Duchess of Kendal with
his left hand. . . .
George II. who hated his father and
was very fond of his mother, meant,
if she had survived her husband, to
bring her over, and declare her Queen
Dowager. Lady Suffolk told me, that
the morning after the news of the
death of George I. arrived, when she
went, as Woman of the Bedchamber,
to the new Queen, she found a whole
and half-length portraits of the Elec
tress hung up in the apartment ; George
II. had had them locked up, but had
not dared to produce them. Princess
Amelie has the half-length at her house
in Cavendish-square. George I. told
the Duchess of Kendal, that if he could,
he would appear to her after his death.
Soon after that event, a large bird, I
forget of what sort, flew into her
window. She believed it was the
King's soul, and took the utmost care
of it. George II. was not less credu
lous ; he believed in vampires.

GROUP XXVI.

KING GEORGE II.
i. Extracts from Lord Hervey's
Memoirs. (London: Murray, 1848.)
In October (1727) the ceremony of
the Coronation was performed with all
the pomp and magnificence that could
be contrived ; the present King differ
ing so much from the last, that all the
pageantry and splendour, badges and
trappings of royalty, were as pleasing
to the son as they were irksome to the
father. The dress of the Queen on
this' occasion was as fine as the accumu
lated riches of the City and suburbs
could make it ; for besides her own jew
els (which were a great number and
very valuable) she had on her nead and
on her shoulders all the pearls she could
borrow of the ladies of quality at one

AND QUEEN CAROLINE.
end of the town, and on her petticoat"
all the diamonds she could hire of the
Jews and jewelers at the other ; so that
the appearance and the truth of her
finery was a mixture of magnificence
and meanness not unlike the eclat of
royalty in many other particulars when
it comes to be nicely examined and
traced to what money hires or flattery
lends. . . .
Her (the Queen's) predominant pas
sion was pride, and the darling pleas
ure of her soul was power ; but she
was forced to gratify the one and gain
the other, as some people do health,
by a strict and painful regime, which
few besides herself could have had
patience to support, or resolution to

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King George II. and Queen Caroline 245

adhere to. She was at least seven or
eight hours tete-a-tete with the King
every day, during which time she was
generally saying what she did not think,
assenting to what she did not believe,
and praising what she did not approve ;
for they were seldom of the same opin
ion, and he too fond of his own for her
ever at first to dare to controvert it.
. , . She used to give him her opinion
as jugglers do a card, by changing it
imperceptibly, and making him believe
he held the same with that he first
pitched upon. But that which made
these tete-ct-tetes seem heaviest was
that he neither liked reading nor being
read to (unless it was to sleep) : she
was forced, like a spider, to spin out
of her own bowels all the conversation
with which the fly was taken. How
ever, to all this she submitted for the
sake of power, and for the reputation
of having it. . . . Her every thought,
word and act therefore tended and was
calculated to preserve her influence
there ; to him she sacrificed her time,
for him she mortified her inclination ;
she looked, spake and breathed but
for him, like a weathercock to every
capricious blast of his uncertain tem
per, and governed him (if such influ
ence so gained can bear the name
of government) by being as great a
slave to him thus ruled, as any other
wife could be to a man who ruled her.
For all the tedious hours she spent then
in watching him whilst he slept, or the
heavier task of entertaining him whilst
he was awake, her single consolation
was in reflecting she had power, and
that people in coffee-houses and ruelles
were saying she governed this country,
without knowing how dear the govern
ment of it cost her. . . .
The day [29th October, 1734] be
fore the birthday the Court removed
from Kensington to London ; and the
Queen, who had long been out of order

with a cough and a little lurking fever,
notwithstanding she had been twice
blooded, grew every hour worse and
worse : however, the King lugged her
the night she came from Kensington,
the first of Farinelli's performances, to
the opera, and made her the next day
go through all the tiresome ceremonies
of drawing-rooms and balls, the fa
tigues of heats and crowds, and every
other disagreeable appurtenance to the
celebration of a birthday. There was
a strange affectation of an incapacity
of being sick that ran through the
whole Royal Family, which they car
ried so far that no one of them was
more willing to own any other of the
family ill than to acknowledge them
selves to be so. . . . J734-
Sir Robert Walpole [the prime-
minister] used always to go into Nor
folk twice in a year, for ten days in
summer and twenty in November, and
generally set out for his second expedi
tion the day after the King' s birthday :
he was to do so now, and therefore to
take his leave this evening of the
Queen. . . . "You know, Madam,"
said he, " I can do nothing without you ;
whatever my industry and watchfulness
for your interest and welfare suggest,
it is you must execute : you, Madam,
are the sole mover of this Court ;
whenever your hand stops, everything
must stand still, and, whenever that
spring is changed, the whole system
and every inferior wheel must be
changed too. If I can boast of any
success in carrying on the King's
affairs, it is a success, I am very free to
own, I never could have had but by the
mediation of your Majesty ... so
much so that I not only never did do
anything without you, but I know I
never could ; and if this country have
the misfortune to lose your Majesty, I
should find it as impossible, divested of

246 King George II. and Queen Caroline

your assistance, to persuade the King
into any measure he did not like, as,
whilst we have the happiness of pos
sessing1 your Majesty, any minister
would find it to persuade him into a
step which you did not approve." . . .
Lord Hervey told Sir Robert Walpole
that he feared the King had overheard
everything that had passed this evening
between him and the Queen. Sir
Robert started at this, and said, " If
he has, it is impossible he can ever
forgive tne. . . . For God's sake
find out whether it was so or not, and
let me know before I set out to-morrow
morning for Norfolk." . . .
Lord Hervey was not a little pleased
to find his conjectures had been false,
and quickly made Sir. Robert Walpole
easy by a short note to tell him what
the case had been. . . .
ms-
One trouble arose on the King's
going to Hanover which her Majesty
did not at all foresee, which was his
becoming, soon after his arrival, so
much attached to one Madame Wal-
moden, a young married woman of the
first fashion at Hanover, that nobody in
England talked of anything but the
declining power of the Queen, and the
growing interest of this new favour
ite. . . .
It is certain, too, that, from the very
beginning of this new engagement, the
King acquainted the Queen by letter of
every step he took in it — of the growth
of his passion, the progress of his
applications, , and their success — of
every word as well as of every action
that passed — -so minute a description of
her person, that had the Queen been a
painter she might have drawn her
rival's picture at six hundred miles
distance. . . .
By unreasonably hurrying himself to
arrive in England, though he was as
unreasonably sorry to return thither at

all, he (the King) had made himself
extremely ill ; for whilst he travelled in
this violent manner, day and night, and
almost without any rest, only for the
pleasure of bragging how quick he
moved, he had so heated his blood that
he was feverish for several days after
he returned. . . .
This disorder was kept a great secret
to all the Court, but the consequences
of it were no secret. Everybody shared
the warm and frequent sallies of his
abominable temper, and everybody im
puted them to what was the joint
though not the sole cause of these
eruptions, whjch was the affliction he
felt for the change of a German life to
an English one. . . .
After this last journey, Hanover had
so completed the conquest of his affec
tions that there was nothing English
ever commended in his presence that he
did not always show, or pretend to
show was surpassed by something of
the same kind in Germany. No Eng
lish or even French cook could dress a
dinner ; no English confectioner set out
a desert ; no English player could act ;
no English coachman could drive, or
English jockey ride ; nor were any
English horses fit to be drove or fit to
be ridden ; no Englishman knew how
to come into a room, nor any English
woman how to dress herself . . .
whereas at Hanover all these things
were in the utmost perfection. . . .
In truth he hated the English, looked
upon them all as king-killers and
republicans, grudged them their riches
as well as their liberty, thought them
all overpaid, and said to Lady Sundon
one day as she was waiting at dinner,
just after he had returned from Ger
many, that he was forced to distribute
his favours here very differently from
the manner in which he bestowed them
at Hanover ; that there he rewarded
people for doing their duty and serving

qjJBEN CAROLINE.

King George II. and Queen Caroline 247

him well, but that here he was obliged
to enrich people for being rascals, and
buy them not to cut his throat.
The Queen did not always think in
a different style of the English, though
she kept her thoughts more to herself
than the King. . . . The love of rule,
the thirst of dominion and the jealousy
of prerogative were so strongly im
planted in her — the German and the
Queen so rooted in her mind — that the
King himself had not more at heart all
the trappings and pageantry of sov
ereignty than she the essential parts of
it. . . . 1736.
In the mean time the people of all
ranks grew every day more discon
tented at the King's stay in Germany.
The people belonging to the Court
were uneasy at it, as it made the Court
so much more unpopular. . . . The
tradesmen were all uneasy, as they
thought the King's absence prevented
people coming to town, and particu
larly for the birthday. . . . The ordi
nary and the godly people took the
turn of pitying the poor Queen, and
railing at his Majesty for using so good
a wife, who had brought him so many
fine children, so abominably ill. Some
of them (and those who, if he had
heard all this, would have fretted him
most) used to talk of his age, and say,
for a man at his time of day to be play
ing these youthful pranks, and fancy
ing himself in love, was quite ridicu
lous, as well as inexcusable. . . . To
this familiar manner of talking were
added several little ingenious manu
scripts : pasquinades were stuck up in
several quarters of the town. . . . On
St. James's gate this advertisement was
pasted: — " Lost or strayed out of this
house, a man who has left a wife and
six children on the parish ; whoever
will give any tidings of him to the
churchwardens of St. James's Parish,

so as he may be got again, shall receive
four shillings and sixpence reward. N.
B. This reward will not be increased,
nobody judging him to deserve a
Crown." . . .
The Queen, at St. James's passed
her common evenings just as she had
done at Kensington : that is, in her
private apartment at quadrille with
her lady-in-waiting, Mrs. Schutz, and
Lady Charlotte de Roussie ; whilst the
Princess Caroline, Miss Dives (one of
her maids of honour) and Lord Her
vey played pools at cribbage ; and the
Duke, Princess Emily, and the rest of
the chance-comers of the family played
at basset. Mondays and Fridays, how
ever, there were public drawing-rooms
in the great apartments, in the same
manner as when the King used to be in
London. This Friday . . . there was
a public drawing-room as usual, to
which neither the Prince nor Princess
came ; the Prince [Frederick, the heir
apparent had quarrelled bitterly with
his parents] made no excuse, the Prin
cess pleaded a cold, but the only marks
of it that appeared was a black-hood.
. . . The Queen asked Lord Hervey if
he had heard any of the particulars of
yesterday's feast in Pail-Mall. . . .
Lord Hervey said the Prince's speech
in the morning was the most ingratia
ting piece of popularity that ever was
composed. . . .  , says the Queen,
"popularity always makes me sick;
but Fritz's popularity makes me vomit.
I hear that yesterday, on his side of the
house, they talked of the king's being
cast away with the same sang-froid as
you would talk of a coach being over
turned ; and that my good son strutted
about as if he had been already King.
Did you mind the air with which he
came into my drawing-room in the
morning? ... I swear his behaviour
shocked me so prodigiously, that I
could hardly bring myself to speak to

248 King George II. and Queen Caroline

him." . . . "You do not imagine, I
believe, now [said Lord Hervey] that
the Prince has all that horror of being
King, which you then supposed."
" Oh," replied the Queen, " he is such
an ass that one cannot tell what he
thinks : and yet he is not so great a
fool as you take him for, neither." . . .
The Princess Caroline, who loved her
mother and disliked her brother in equal
and extreme degrees, was in much the
same state of mind as the Queen. . . .
They neither of them made much cere
mony of wishing a hundred times a
day that the Prince might fall down
dead of an apoplexy — the Queen curs
ing the hour of his birth, and the
Princess Caroline declaring she grudged
him every hour he continued to breathe ;
and reproaching Lord Hervey with his
weakness for having - ever loved him,
... as well as being so great a dupe
as to believe the nauseous beast (those
were her words) cared for anybody but
his own nauseous self. . . .
Soon after . . . some of the Prince's
letters were likewise printed. Those
that had the greatest air of submis
sion were picked out on this occasion
in order to move the compassion of
the public. . . . This and other cir
cumstances made the King and Queen
determine to have all the original letters
and messages printed that had passed
by the first night. . . . Lord Hervey
the Queen desired might translate them.
. . . The King and Queen were full
as well pleased with giving Lord Her
vey this commission to call their son a
liar in print, as he was to receive it,
and charged him not to embellish the
fool's letters in the translation, or to
mend the spelling in the original. Lord
Hervey took occasion upon this subject,
among many others things, to say, he
did not believe there ever was a father
and son so thoroughly unlike in every
particular as the King and Prince, and

enumerated several points in which
they differed, as little to the advantage
of the Prince as to the dispraise or dis
pleasure of the King. . . . " My dear
Lord," replied the Queen, " I will give
it you under my hand, if you are in any
fear of my relapsing, that my dear first
born is the greatest ass and the greatest
liar, and the greatest canaille, and the
greatest beast in the whole world, and
that I most heartily wish he was out of
it." . . .
On Wednesday, the 9th of Novem
ber (1737), the Queen was taken ill in
the morning at her new Library in St.
James's Park; she called her com
plaint the cholic, her stomach and
bowels giving her great pain. She
came home, took Daffy's Elixir by Dr.
Tesier's, the German and house-physi
cian's advice; but was in such great
pain . . . that she went to bed. How
ever, when the clock struck two, and
the King proposed sending Lord Gran
tham to dismiss the company, and
declare there would be no drawing-
room, she, according to the custom of
the family, not caring to own, or at
least to have it generally known, how
ill she was, told the King she was
much better — that she would get up
and see the company as usual. As
soon as she came into the drawing-
room she came up to Lord Hervey and
said, "Is it not intolerable at my age
to be plagued with a new distemper?
Here is this nasty cholic that I had at
Hampton Court come again." . . .
Lord Hervey asked her what she had
taken, and when she told him, he
replied, "For God's sake, Madam, go
to your own room ; what have you to
do here ? "... At last the King went
away, telling the Queen as he went by,
that she had overlooked the Duchess of
Norfolk. The Queen made her excuse
for having done so to the Duchess of
Norfolk, the last person she ever spoke

( See page 253.)

King George II. and Queen Caroline 249

to in public, and then retired, going
immediately, into bed, where she grew
worse every moment. . . . Lord Her
vey speaking to the King, who was
now returned from Princess Emily's
apartment, and began to be alarmed,
Dr. Broxholme was immediately sent
for by Lord Hervey. When he came,
Tesier and he agreed to give the Queen
immediately some snake-root with Sir
.Walter Raleigh's cordial. . . . Soon
after j the snake-root and Sir Walter
Raleigh's cordial arrived from the
apothecary's; it was taken and thrown
up about an hour after. All these
•strong things, twice Daffy's Elixir,
mint-water, usquebaugh, snake-root,
and Sir Walter Raleigh's Cordial, had,
without easing the Queen's pain, so
increased her fever, that the doctors
ordered Ranby to bleed her twelve
ounces immediately. . . .
Her vomiting was suspended for a
few hours this morning. . . . On this
amendment, as everybody called it, but
few really thought it, the King resolved
to have a levee, and that the Princess
Emily' should see the company at the
usual hour of the Queen's going into
her drawing-room ; and to show what
odd and inconsistent particulars we are
all composed of, this being the day the
Foreign Ministers came to Court, the
King, in the midst of all his real and
great concern for the Queen, sent to
his pages to bid them be sure to have
his last new ruffles sewed on upon the
shirt he was to put on that day at his
public dressing. Such sort of particu
lars will seem very trifling to those
who do not think, like me, that trifling
circumstances .often let one more into
people's tempers and characters than
those parts of their conduct that are of
greater importance, from which one
frequently knows no more of their natu
ral turn of mind than one does of their
natural gait whilst they are dancing. . . .

This night two more physicians were
called in, Sir Hans Sloane and Dr.
Hulst, who ordered blisters and aperi
ents : these came up, like every other
thing, soon after she had swallowed it,
and the blisters, though a remedy to
which the King and Queen had often
declared themselves very averse, were
put upon her legs. ... At six o'clock
on Friday morning the Queen was
again blooded. . . .
When Ranby returned he brought
one Shipton with him, a City surgeon.
. . . By this time, too, Busier arrived,
and these three attended her constantly.
After they had examined the Queen,
they all told the King she was in the
utmost danger. Busier proposed mak
ing an operation with the knife to en
able them to replace the protrusion,
which Ranby opposed as full of imme
diate danger and thinking that the
tumour might be reduced by less violent
means. . . . About four o'clock on
Sunday morning the 13th, the Queen
complaining that her wound was ex
tremely painful, and desiring to have it
dressed, Ranby and Shipton were called
into her, and upon opening the wound
declared it had already begun to mor
tify. . . .
It is not necessary to examine whether
the Queen's reasoning was good or bad
in wishing the King, in case she died,
should marry again : — It is certain she
did wish it ; had often said so when he
was present, and when he. was not
present, and when she was in health,
and gave it now as her advice to him
when she was dying — upon which his
sobs began to rise and his tears to fall
with double vehemence. Whilst in the
midst of this passion, wiping his eyes,
and sobbing between every. word, with
much ado he got out this answer -.-Non,
f aurai des niaitr esses. . . - . To which
the Queen made no other reply than
"ah! mon Dieu! cela n'-cmpeche

250

King George II. and Queen Caroline

pas." I know this episode will hardly
be credited, but it is literally true. . . .
On Sunday morning, about nine
o'clock, the surgeons, upon opening the
Queen's wound, found the mortification
was not spread ; and upon cutting off
what was already mortified, declared
she might recover. This appeared so
inconsistent with their declarations some
hours before, and in my opinion showed
so much ignorance, that if a life of this
consequence, committed to the care of
four of the best physicians and three of
the best surgeons in England, received
no better assistance from their skill,
how natural it is to deplore the situation
of those whose safety depends on the
sagacity of these professions, and how
reasonable to despise those who put
their trust in such aids ! Not that I am
so unjust to surgery as to put that
science upon the same foot with physic ;
and for my own part I firmly believe
there was not the least mortification
begun, when they ignorantly pro
nounced there was. . . .
The King had been particularly
anxious this whole day from what the
Queen had said with regard to her
dying of a Wednesday, which could
not be much wondered at, since a mind
much less addicted to superstitions than
his Majesty's might have been a little
affected. . . . Could it then be sur
prising that a man who believed in
ghosts and witches should not be
proof? . . .
During this time the King talked
perpetually to Lord Hervey ... of
the Queen's good qualities. . . . He
said she was the best wife, the best
mother, the best companion, the best
friend, and the best woman that ever
was born ; . . . that he had never seen
her out of humour in his life, that he had
passed more hours with her than he
believed any other two people in the
world had ever passed together, and

that he had never been tired in her
company one minute. . . .
These were the terms in which he
was forever now talking of the Queen,
and in which he likewise talked to her ;
and yet so unaccountable were the sud
den sallies of his temper, and so little
was he able or willing to command
them, that in the midst of all this flow
of tenderness he hardly ever went into
her room that he did not, even in this
moving situation, snub her for some
thing or other she said or did. When
her constant uneasiness, from the sick
ness in her stomach and the soreness of
her wound, would make her shift her
posture every minute, he would say to
her, " How the devil should you sleep,
when you will never lie still a moment ?"
. . . When the King came into her
room in the morning, as she lay with
her eyes fixed at a point in the air . . .
the King with a loud and quick voice
said to her, " Alon Dieu, qu' est-ce-que
vous regardez? Comment peut-on
fixer ses yeux comme ca? Vos yeux
resse?nblent a ceux d' un veau a qui
on vient de couper la gorge !" . . .
About ten o' clock on Sunday night —
the King being in bed and asleep on the
' floor at the feet of the Queen's bed, and
the Princess Emily in a couch-bed in a
corner of the room — the Queen began
to rattle in her throat ; and Mrs. Purcel
giving the alarm that she was expiring,
all in the room started up. Princess
Caroline was sent for, and Lord Her
vey, but before the last arrived the
Queen was just dead. All she said
before she died, was, " I have now got
an asthma. Open the window." . . .
The King kissed the face and hands
of the lifeless body several times, but
in a few minutes left the Queen' s apart
ment. . . . The grief he felt for the
Queen, as it was universally known
and showed a tenderness of which the
world thought him before utterly in-

muis

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( See page 253.)

^Koi/j)e y/'/unec
\ eweir/e

King George II. and Queen Caroline 251

capable, made him for some time more
popular and better spoken of than he
had ever been before this incident, or
than I believe he ever will be again.
He was thoroughly unaffected on this
occasion, and by being so (as odd as it
may seem to say this) perplexed those
who were about him.

2. Lord Chesterfield's character of
Queen Caroline. (Works, Vol. II.
P- 4370
Queen Caroline had lively, pretty
parts, a quick conception, and some
degree of female knowledge ; and
would have been an agreeable woman
in social, if she had not aimed at being
a great one in public life. . . .
Cunning and perfidy were the means
she made use of in business, as all
women do, for want of better. She
showed her art most in her management
of the King, whom she governed abso
lutely, by a seeming complaisance and
obedience to all his humours ; she even
favoured and promoted his gallanteries.
She had a dangerous ambition, for it
was attended with courage, and, if she
had lived much longer, might have
proved fatal either to herself or the con
stitution. . . .
Upon the whole, the agreeable
woman was liked by most people ; but
the Queen was neither esteemed, be-
•loved nor trusted, by anybody but the
King.
A Ballad of the Day. (From
Morris: Early Hanoverians, p. 82.)
You may strut, dapper George, but 'twill all
be in vain;
We know 'tis Queen Caroline, not you, that
reign —
You govern no more than Don Philip of
Spain.
Then if you would have us fall down and
adore you,
Lock up your fat spouse, as your dad did
before you.

3. Lord Chesterfield's Character of
George II. (Works, Vol. II. p. 434.)
. . . Everything in his composition
was little ; an*d he had all the weak
nesses of a little mind, without any of
the virtues, or even the vices, of a great
one. He loved to act the King, but
mistook the part ; and the Royal dig
nity shrunk into the Electoral pride.
He was educated upon that scale, and
never enlarged its dimensions with his
dominions. As Elector of Hanover he
thought himself great ; as King of
Great Britain only rich. Avarice, the
meanest of all passions, was his ruling
one ; and I never knew him deviate
into any generous action. . . .
In Council he was excessively timor
ous, and thought by many to be so in
person ; but of this I can say nothing
on my own knowledge. In his dress
and in his conversation he affected the
hero so much, that from thence only
many called his courage in question. . . .
Little things, as he has often told me
himself, affected him more than great
ones ; and tl is was so true, that I have
often seen him put so much out of
humour at his private levee, by a mis
take or blunder of a valet de chambre,
that the gaping crowd admitted to his
public levee have, from his looks and
silence, concluded that he had just
received some dreadful news. Tacitus
would always have been deceived by
him. . . .
He well knew that he was governed
by the Queen, -while she lived; and
that she was governed by Sir Robert
Walpole : but he kept that secret
inviolably, and flattered himself that
nobody had discovered it. . . .
He was very well-bred ; but it was
in a stiff and formal manner, and pro
duced in others that restraint which
they saw he was under himself. . . .
He died unlamented, though not un-
praised because he was dead.

252 King George II. and Queen Caroline

Upon the whole, he was rather a
weak than a bad man or King. His
government was mild as to prerogative,
but burthensome as to taxes. ... I
have dwelt the longer upon this char
acter, because I was so long and so
well acquainted with it; for above
thirty years I was always near his
person, and had constant opportunities
of observing him, both in his Regal
robes and in his undress. I have ac
companied him in his pleasures, and
been employed in his business. I have,
byturns, been as well and as ill with him
as any man in England. Impartial
and unprejudiced, I have drawn this
character from the life, and after a
forty years sitting.

4. Extract from Mrs. Calderwood's
Account of her Journey into England.
(In Coltness Collection, Maitland Club,
1S42, p. 118.) I75<5-
... I went one morning to the Park
in hopes to see the Duke review a troop
of the Horse Guards, but he was not
there ; but the Guards were very pretty.
Sail Blackwood and Miss Buller were
with me ; they were afraid to push
near for the croud, but I was resolved
to get forward, so pushed in. They
were very surly, and one of them
asked me where I would be, would I
have my toes trode off? " Is your toes
trode off?" said I. "No," said he.
"Then give me your place and I'll
take care of my toes." "But they are
going to fire," said he. " Then its
time for you to march off," said I, " for
I can stand fire. I wish your troops
may do as well." On which he sneaked
off and gave me his place. . . .
I paid some visits, and went to see
Greenwich Hospitall, which is a ridicu
lous fine thing. The view is very
pretty, which you see just as well in a
rary-show glass. No wonder the Eng
lish are transported with a place they

can see about them in. The only fine
houses I went to see more were the
King's at Kensingtoun, and the Jew's
I wrote you of. The palace looks bet
ter within than without, and there is
some very fine marbles, pictures and
mirrors in it. But I could not see the
private apartment of the old goodman,
which they say is a great curiosity.
There are a small bed with silk cur
tains, two sattin quilts and no blanket,
a hair mattress ; a plain wicker basket
stands on a table, with a silk nightgown
and night-cap in it ; a candle with an
extinguisher ; some billets of wood on
each side of the fire. He goes to bed
alone, rises, lights his fire and mends it
himself, and nobody knows when he
rises, which is very early, and is upp
severall hours before he calls anybody.
He dines in a small room adjoining, in
which there is nothing but very com
mon things. He sometimes, they say,
sups with his daughters and their com
pany, and is very merry and sings
French songs, but at present he is in
very low spirits.

5. Lord Waldegrave's character of
George II. (Memoirs, London, 1821,
p. 4.) 1758.
The King is in his 75th year ; but
temperance and an excellent constitu
tion have hitherto preserved him from
many of the infirmities of old age. . . .
He has as much personal bravery as
any man, though his political courage
seems somewhat problematical : how
ever, it is a fault on the right side ; for
had he always been as firm and un
daunted in the closet as he shewed
himself at Oudenarde and Dettingen,
he might not have proved quite so
good a king in this limited monarchy.
In the drawing-room, he is gracious
and polite to the ladies, and remarkably
cheerful and familiar with those who
are handsome, or with the few of his

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( See page 253.)

King George II. and Queen Caroline 253
old acquaintance who were beauties in exactness, except on particular occa-
his younger days. . . . sions, when he outruns his own orders,
His servants are never disturbed with and expects those who are to attend
any unnecessary waiting ; for he is reg- him before the time of his appoint-
ular in all his motions to the greatest ment. . . .

EDITORIAL.

THE SEVEN YEARS WAR.

["It is a turning point in our
national history, as it is a turning point
in the history of the world," writes
Green referring to the Seven Years'
War. It made England mistress of
North America and potential ruler over
India. It was the starting point for a
period of unparalleled Vealth and
prosperity. So complicated a subject lends itself
so little to our system of illustrating
events by contemporary narratives that
we must pass it over with a few brief
remarks. In 1740 Frederick the Great, suc
ceeding to the Prussian throne, "wrote
to Voltaire: "The time has come for
an entire change in the old political
system, the stone has again broken
loose which once descended on the
four-metalled image of Nebuchadnez
zar and destroyed it utterly." He
inaugurated the change by descending
himself on the Austrian province of
Silesia. It was, indeed, as he said
himself "the boldest, most rapid and
grandest undertaking in which a prince
of his house had ever been engaged."
Grimly the young Queen, Maria The
resa, fought for her rights ; with small
support from her husband, who was
such a nonentity that she listened at
the door when he held interviews,
ready to interrupt if he seemed about
to commit himself, she held the enemy
at bay as long as she could. In Eng
land, indeed, she found an ally willing
at least to pour streams of gold into

her lap. Frederick the Great seemed
cut out by nature to be the hereditary
enemy of the House of Hanover : " We
must clip this prince's wings," said
George II to the Polish-Saxon envoy ;
"he is too dangerous for both of us."
Frederick for his part, after the
battle of Mollwitz, had no lack of
friends and was able to carry out a
threat he had once made to the English
envoy, Guy Dickens. " If the worst
comes to the worst," he had said, "I
shall join with France and beat and
bite and devastate in all directions."
It was as a part of this policy that in
1742 he put up his puppet Emperor,
Charles Albert of Bavaria, who took
the name of Charles VII. The French
and the Prussians, indeed, did not pull
well together ; there was tardiness and
unwillingness on the one hand, and
something like treachery on the other.
Frederick made his own peace, at Bres-
lau, and left France to continue the
struggle. The Due de Noaille was
defeated at Dettingen, in which battle
George II took part, conducting him
self with considerable bravery.
In 1744 Frederick re-entered the
arena, partly through jealousy of Eng
land ; he wished, he declared to Pode-
wils, that the Devil would take his uncle
George. He made a new treaty with
Louis XV by which the prospective
spoils were to be divided between him
self, the Emperor and the French King ;
but again the old jealousies arose, and
again Frederick, enabled by his bril-

254

The Seven Years' War

liant victories of Hohenfriedberg, Sohr
and Kesselsdorf to make advantageous
terms for himself at Dresden, withdrew
from the struggle. The French called
him a "filigree king," a regular fripon.
He retained Silesia, but Maria Theresa
never really acquiesced in her fate.
The interval of peace she employed in
strengthening her resources. She in
tended to renew the contest with over
whelming numbers ; immediately after
the Peace of Dresden the Zarina, Eliz
abeth, had offered her 90,000 men ; the
King of France would be easy to win,
Saxony and Sweden might already be
counted upon. Prussia was to be sud
denly attacked and utterly dismem
bered. Elizabeth of Russia hated
Frederick with the implacable hatred
of an utterly depraved woman. She
knew what he thought of her drunken
orgies and vulgar intrigues ; officious
tongues had retailed to her his scathing
witticisms at her expense. She was
more fierce in her desire to ruin him
than Maria Theresa herself. As for
France, she had remained outwardly
on good terms with Frederick ; indeed
in 1753, when the defeat of George
Washington at Fort Duquesne made
certain the prospect of a long and
bitter struggle with England, Frederick
urged the French ambassador to invade
Hanover. "That is the surest means
of making this  change his tune,"
he said, using an epithet so strong for
George II that the envoy did not dare
repeat it to his government. But sud
denly his own tune changed ; anxiety
for the safety of his electorate induced
George II to sign with him the Con
vention of Westminster. France and
Austria then joined hands.
Frederick had secret agents who kept
him informed of the plans of his advers
aries ; he had no intention of waiting
to be attacked. " If this lady," he said
to the English envoy, pointing at the

same time to a portrait of Maria The
resa which hung on the wall, " if this
lady wishes war, she shall have it quick."
" Look into my face," he had said a
moment before; "does my nose look
like one that fingers can be wagged at?
By God, I'll not stand it!"
On the actual operations of the war
there is no need to dwell. Frederick
fell upon Saxony, but the siege of Pirna
cost him much invaluable time. Eng
land was hard pressed both in America
and in India and could not at once come
to his aid. The allies closed in around
him. He won Prague but was disas
trously defeated at Kolin, and obliged
to abandon his plan of a Bohemian
campaign. The Duke of Cumberland,
who was finally put in command of a
Hanoverian-Hessian force, ran into a
cui de sac and was obliged to sign the
convention of Kloster Severn. Fred
erick's fortunes sank lower and lower;
he tried to bribe Madame de Pompadour
to bring about a peace with France.
Then the battle of Rossbach changed
all ; 20,000 Prussians put to flight
more than twice that number of French ;
the battle of Leuthen, which soon fol
lowed, would alone, to quote Napoleon,
have sufficed to make Frederick im
mortal. England now awakened to her respon
sibilities ; Pitt cried out in parliament,
' ' I feel the most grateful sentiments of
veneration and zeal for a Prince who
stands the unshaken bulwark of Europe
against the most powerful and malig
nant confederacy that ever yet has
threatened the independence of man
kind." Four million pounds was voted,
and a really capable general, Ferdinand
of Brunswick, was placed at the head of
the Hanoverian army.
Year after year, with dwindling
forces, Frederick and Ferdinand held
their own. The latter's brilliant vic
tory at Minden offset the former's

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Frj;)0f;}»oJyf~f£ ziarw:<

;Voi« ) h vjmmiiv. tfajEsEjJ

The Seven Years' War

255

crushing defeat by the Russians at
Kunersdorf and the surrender of 12,000
men at Maxen. Liegnitz and Torgau
helped still further to restore the bal
ance ; but even victories meant the loss
of men whom it was impossible now to
replace. Frederick's enemies could
draw from a population numbering 60
million souls, Prussia could boast of
but four million and a half. The
French often outnumbered Ferdinand
of Brunswick by two to one, while in
1761, Frederick could muster but 96,000
against three times as many of the Rus
sians and Austrians.
In the midst of all this came the news
from England that Pitt had fallen and
been replaced by the pacific Bute, who
did not renew the military convention
with Prussia. The subsidies ceased ;
Frederick was coldly told to make
peace even at the price of some of his
provinces. Bute was ready for his own
part to sacrifice almost any of his recent
conquests; ready, too, to descend to
almost any depths of political ignominy.
Could disloyalty to a former ally have
well gone further than the sending of
an envoy to the Russian court to urge
it to continue its armies in the field, lest
Frederick, having free play against
Maria Theresa, might push his advan
tage and thus prolong the struggle ? It
was the news of conduct like this that

made England's own representative,
Mitchell, cry out in agony, " I am tired
of my accursed trade."
Frederick himself took matters more
calmly. "The English thought," he
wrote later, "that money did every
thing and that there was no money
except in England." But he never for
gave this base desertion ; when Eng
land' s war with her American colonies
broke out, all his sympathies were with
the latter, and on the Hessian soldiers
who were bought to fight across the
water he placed the same tax, when
they crossed his domains, as on cattle
going to slaughter. He was kept from
despair now by the death of his arch
enemy Elizabeth, "whose successor Peter
the Third had always looked on Fred
erick as a hero, and is even said to have
sent him anonymous warnings. The
very troops that had fought against
him were made for a moment to fight
on his side, and though the death of
Peter soon necessitated their recall they
were not again employed against him.
The Peace of Hubertsburg finally put
an end to the war, from which Frederick
emerged neither richer nor poorer in
land, but immeasurably higher in pres
tige. England received from theFrench,
Canada and that part of the present
United States which is east of the
Mississipi.J

GROUP XXVII.

THE ACCESSION
1. Extracts from Waldegrave's
Memoirs. (London, 1821, p. 63.) I756.
I had been appointed governor to the
Prince of Wales towards the end of the
year 1752, when Earl Harcourt re
signed. ... I found his Royal High
ness uncommonly full of princely prej
udices, contracted in the nursery, and

OF GEORGE III.
improved by the society of bed-chamber
women, and pages of the back-stairs.
As a right system of education
seemed quite impracticable, the best
which could be hoped for was to give
him true notions of common things ; to
instruct him by conversation, rather
than by books ; and sometimes, under
the disguise of amusement, to entice

256

The Accession of George III.

him to tne pursuit or more serious
studies. . . . I758-
The Prince of Wales is entering into
his 2 ist year, and it would be unfair to
decide upon his character in the early
stages of life, when there is so much
time for improvement.
His parts, though not excellent, will
be found very tolerable, if ever they are
properly exercised. He is strictly
honest, but wants that frank and open
behaviour which makes honesty appear
amiable. When he had a very scanty
allowance, it was one of his favorite
maxims that men should be just before
they are generous : his income is now
very considerably augmented, but his
generosity has not increased in equal
proportion. His religion is free from
all hypocrisy, but is not of the most
charitable sort ; he has rather too much
attention to the sins of his neighbour.
He has spirit, but not of the active
kind ; and does not want resolution,
but it is mixed with too much obstinacy.
He has great command of his passions,
and will seldom do wrong, except when
he mistakes wrong for right ; but as
often as this shall happen, it will be
difficult to undeceive him, because he
is uncommonly indolent, and has strong
prejudices. His want of application and aversion
to business would be far less dangerous,
was he eager in the pursuit of pleasure ;
for the transition from pleasure to busi
ness is both shorter and easier than
from a state of total inaction.
He has a kind of unhappiness in his
temper, which, if it be not conquered
before it has taken too deep a root, will
be a source of frequent anxiety. When
ever he is displeased, his anger does not
break out with heat and violence ; but
he becomes sullen and silent, and re
tires to his closet; not to compose his
mind by study or contemplation, but

merely to indulge the melancholy enjoy
ment of his own ill humor. Even
when the fit is ended, unfavorable
symptoms very frequently return,
which indicate that on certain occasions
his Royal Highness has too correct a
memory. Though I have mentioned his good
and bad qualities, without flattery, and
without aggravation, allowances should
still be made, on account of his youth,
and his bad education. . . . The
mother and the nursery always pre
vailed. During the course of the last year,.
there has indeed, been some alteration ;
the authority of the nursery has grad
ually declined, and the Earl of Bute,
by the assistance of the mother, has
now the entire confidence. But whether
this change will be greatly to his Royal
Highness' s advantage, is a nice ques
tion, which cannot hitherto be deter
mined with any certainty. J755-
. . . He [Lord Bute] had been a
lord of the bedchamber to the late
prince [Frederick] ; has a good person,
fine legs, and a theatrical air of the
greatest importance.
There is an extraordinary appear
ance of wisdom, both in his look and
manner of speaking ; for whether the
subject be serious or trifling, he is
equally pompous, slow, and sententious.
Not contented with being wise, he
would be thought a polite scholar, and
a man of great erudition : but has the
misfortune never to succeed except with
those who are exceeding ignorant : for
his historical knowledge is chiefly taken
from tragedies, wherein he is very
deeply read ; and his classical learning
extends no farther than a French trans
lation. The late Prince of Wales, who was
not overnice in the choice of ministers,
used frequently to say that Bute was a

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The Accession of George III.

257

fine showy man, who would make an
excellent ambassador in a court where
there was no business. Such was his
Royal Highness' s opinion of . the noble
earl's political abilities; but the sagac
ity of the princess. dowager has discov
ered other accomplishments, of which
^he prince her husband may not per
haps have been the most competent
judge. . . . I756.
... The Princess of Wales's unlim
ited confidence in the Earl of Bute
has been already mentioned ; and by
the good offices of the mother, he
also became the avowed favorite of the
young prince, who was just entering
into his nineteenth year, the time of his
majority, in case the king had been
dead.

2. Lord Chesterfield's Character of
Lord Bute. Written in 1764. (In
Works, Vol. II. p. 470.)
The Earl of Bute was of an ancient
family in Scotland. . . . He married
the daughter of Wortley Montague, by
Lady Mary Pierrepont, eminent for her
parts and her vices. . . . She proved
an immense fortune by the death of her
father and mother, who, disinheriting
their son, left her five or six hundred
thousand pounds. . . .
He [Lord Bute] came to town, five
or six years before the death of the late
Frederick Prince of Wales, to whom
he wholly attached himself. He soon
got to-be at the head of the pleasures of
that little, idle, frivolous and dissipated
, Court. He was the Intendant of balls,
the Coryphoeus of plays, in which he
acted himself, and so grew into a sort
of favourite of that merry Prince. The
Scandalous Chronicle says, that he was
still a greater favourite of the Princess
of Wales : I will not, nor cannot decide
upon that fact. . . .

When Frederick Prince of Wales
died, and the present King George the
Third became immediate Heir to the
Crown, Lord Bute very prudently at
tached himself wholly to him, not only
with the approbation, but I believe, at
the request, of the Princess Dowager.
In this he succeeded beyond his most
sanguine wishes. He entirely engrossed
not only the affections, but even the
senses of the young Prince, who seemed
to have made a total surrender of them
all to Lord Bute. In this interval,
between the death of the Princess of
Wales and the expected death of King
George the Second, the Princess Dow
ager and Lord Bute agreed to keep the
young Prince entirely to themselves;'
none but their immediate and lowest
creatures were suffered to approach him
except at his levees, where none are
seen as they are; he saw nobody, and1
nobody saw him : Lord Bute, indeed,
was with him alone some hours every
day, to instruct him, as he pretended,1
in the art of Government ; but whether
or no any man labours to instruct and
inform the Prince whom he means one
day to govern is with me a very doubt
ful point.
At length the wished-for day came,
and the death of King George the Second
made room for King George the Third.-
He, like a new Sultan, was lugged out of
the Seraglio by the Princess and Lord
Bute, and placed upon the Throne.
Here the new scene opened : Lord
Bute arrived from the greatest favour
to the highest power and took no care
to dissemble or soften either, in the
eyes of the public, who always look
upon them with envy and malignity ;
but on the contrary, avowed them both
openly. He interfered in everything,
disposed of everything, and undertook
everything, much too soon for his inex
perience in business.

258

The Accession of George III.

3. Lord Chesterfield's character of
Pitt. Written in 1762. (In Works,
Vol. II. p. 467.)
Mr. Pitt owed his rise to the most
considerable posts and power in this
kingdom singly to his own abilities.
In him they supplied the want of birth
and fortune, which latter in others too
often supply the want of the former.
He was a younger brother of a very
new family, and his fortune only an
annuity of one hundred pounds a year.
His constitution refused him the usual
pleasures, and his genius forbad him
the idle dissipations, of youth ; for so
early as at the age of sixteen he was
the martyr of an hereditary gout. He
therefore employed the leisure, which
that tedious and painful distemper
either procured or allowed him, in
acquiring a great fund of premature and
useful knowledge. . . His ruling pas
sion was an unbounded ambition, which,
when supported by great abilities, and
crowned with great success, make what
the world calls "a great man." He
was haughty, imperious, impatient of
contradiction, and over-bearing : qual
ities which too often accompany, but
always clog great ones. . . .
He came young into Parliament, and
upon that great theatre soon equalled
the oldest and the ablest actors. His
eloquence was of every kind, and he
excelled in the argumentative as well as
in the declamatory way. But his invec
tives were terrible, and uttered with
such energy of diction, and stern dig
nity of action and countenance, that he
intimidated those who were the most
willing and the best able to encounter
him. Their arms fell out of their
hands, and they shrunk under the
ascendant which his genius gained over
theirs. . . .
The weight of his popularity, and
his universally acknowledged abilities,
obtruded him upon King George the

Second, to whom he was personally
obnoxious. He was made Secretary of
State ; in this difficult and delicate sit
uation. ... he managed with such
ability that, while he served the King
more effectually ... he still preserved
all his credit and popularity with the
public ; whom he assured and convinced,
that the protection and defence of Han
over, with an army of seventy-five
thousand men in British pay, was the
only possible method of securing our
possessions or acquisitions in North
America. So much easier is it to
deceive than to undeceive mankind.

4. Horace Walpole, Memoirs of
George II. (London, 1S47, p. 84.)
I75S.
Pitt was now arrived at undisturbed
possession of that influence in affairs at
which his ambition had aimed, and
which his presumption had made him
flatter himself he could exert like those
men of superior genius, whose talents
have been called forth by some crisis to
retrieve a sinking nation. He had said
the last year to the Duke of Devon
shire, " My Lord, I am sure I can save
this country, and nobody else can."
It were ingratitude to him to say that
he did not give such a reverberation to
our stagnating Councils, as exceedingly
altered the appearance of our fortune.
He warded off the evil hour that
seemed approaching ; he infused vigour
into our arms ; he taught the nation to
speak again as England used to speak
to Foreign Powers ; and so far from
dreading invasions from France, he
affected to turn us into invaders.

5. Extract from Walpole's Memoirs
of the Reign of George III. (London
and New York, 1894.)
No British monarch has ascended the
throne with so many advantages as
George the Third. Being the first of

The Accession of George III. 259

his line born in England, the prejudice
against his family as foreigners ceased
in his person — Hanover was no longer
the native soil of our Princes ; conse
quently, attachment to the Electorate
was not likely to govern our councils,
as it had done in the last two reigns.
This circumstance, too, of his birth,
shifted the unpopularity of foreign
extraction from the House of Bruns
wick to the Stuarts. In the flower
and bloom of youth, George had a
handsome, open, and honest counte
nance ; and with the favour that attends
the outward accomplishments of his
age, he had none of the vices that fall
under the censure of those who are
past enjoying them themselves.
The moment of his accession was
fortunate beyond example. . . . The
administration was firm, in good har
mony with one another, and headed by
the most successful genius [Pitt] that
¦ever presided over our councils. Con
quests had crowned our arms with
wonderful circumstances of glory and
fortune ; and the young King seemed
to have the option of extending our
victories and acquisitions, or of giving
peace to the world, by finding himself
in a situation so favourable, that neither
his ambition nor moderation could have
been equitably reprehended. . . .
A passionate, domineering woman,
and a Favourite, without talents, soon
drew a cloud over this shining prospect.
. . . The measure of war was pushed,
without even a desire that it should be
successful ; and . . . although success
ful, it was unnaturally checked by a
peace, too precipitate, too indigested,
and too shameful, to merit the coldest
eulogy of moderation. . . .
In his first council the King named
his brother the Duke of York, and
Lord Bute, of the Cabinet. . . . The
King's speech to his council afforded
matter of remark, and gave early speci

men of who was to be the confidential
minister, and what measures were to
be pursued : for it was drawn by Lord
Bute. ... It talked of a bloody and
expensive war, and of obtaining an
honourable and lasting peace. Thus
was it delivered ; but Mr. Pitt went to
Lord Bute that evening, and, after an
altercation of three hours, prevailed
that in the printed copy the words
should be changed to an expensive but
just and necessary war ; and that after
the words honourable peace should be
inserted, in concert with our allies.
... It was two o'clock of the follow
ing afternoon before the King would
yield to the alteration. . . .
Mr. Pitt was too quick-sighted not to
perceive what would be the complexion
of the new reign. His favourite war
was already struck at. He himself had
for some time been on the coldest
terms with Lord Bute ; for possession
of power, and reversion of power
could not fail to make two natures so
haughty, incompatible. It was said,
and I believe with truth, that an outset
so unpromising to his darling measures
made Mr. Pitt propose to the Duke of
Newcastle a firm union against the
Favourite. . . . Whether these two
men, so powerful in Parliament and in
the nation, could have balanced the
headlong affection that attends every
new young Prince, is uncertain, — I
think they could. A war so triumphant
had captivated the whole country. The
Favourite was unknown, ungracious
and a Scot : his connexion with the
Princess, an object of scandal. ... At
least the union of Pitt and Newcastle
would have checked the torrent, which
soon carried everything in favour of
Prerogative. Newcastle's time-serving
undermined Mr. Pitt, was destructive
to himself, threw away all the advan
tages of the war, and brought the
country to the brink of ruin. . . .

260 -The Accession of George III.

As far as could be discerned of the
King's natural disposition it was hu
mane and benevolent. . . . Silence
served him to bear with unwelcome
ministers, or to part with them. His
childhood was tinctured with obstinacy :
it was adopted at the beginning of his
reign, and called firmness, but did not
prove to be his complexion. In truth,
it would be difficult to draw his char
acter in positive colours. He had
neither passions nor activity. He re
signed himself obsequiously to the gov
ernment of his mother and Lord Bute :
learned, and even entered with art into
the lessons they inspired, but added
nothing of his own. When the task
was done, he relapsed into indifference
and indolence till roused to the next
day's part.
The indecent and injudicious precip
itation with which the Favourite's fac
tion hurried towards peace, justified any
steadiness Mr. Pitt could exert to keep
the balance where he had placed it, in
our own hands. . . .
While the attention of mankind hung
on the negotiation [with France, for
peace], the King's messengers were
suddenly sent forth to all privy Coun
cillors to meet at one o'clock, at St.
James's July 8th, on urgent and impor
tant business. The business itsself was
an absolute secret. Everybody con
cluded that so solemn and unusual a
summons of the Council was to give
fuller sanction to peace. How great
was the general surprise when they
heard his Majesty had convened this
assembly to notify his intended mar
riage with the princess of Mecklenburg
Strelitz ! A resolution taken and con
ducted with so much mystery, that till
that hour perhaps not six men in Eng
land knew such a Princess existed. . . .
The King was fallen in love with
Lady Sarah Lennox, sister of the Duke
of Richmond ; a very young lady of the

most blooming beauty. . . . What
concurred to make her formidable to
the mother and favourite, was, her
being under the tutorage of Mr. Fox,
her eldest sister's husband; and in
truth, she and her family spared no
assiduity to fix the young monarch's
heart. . . . The King's overtures were
so encouraging, that Fox's views ex
tended even to placing the young lady
on the throne ... he (Fox) left Lady
Sarah at Holland House, where she
appeared every morning in a field close
to the great road (where the King
passed on horseback) in a fancied habit,
making hay.
Such mutual propensity fixed the re
solution of the Princess. One, Colonel
Graeme, was despatched in the most
private manner as a traveller, and vested
with no character, to visit various little
Protestant Courts, and make report of
the qualifications of the several un
married princesses. Beauty, and still
less, talents, were not, it is likely, the
first objects of his instructions. On the
testimony of this man the golden apple
was given to the Princess of Mecklen
burg ; and the marriage precipitately
concluded. ... So complete was the
King's deference to the will of his
mother, that he blindly accepted the
bride she had chosen for him ; though
to the very day of the council, he carried
on his courtship to Lady Sarah ; and
she did not doubt of receiving the crown
from him, till she heard the public
declaration of its being designed for
another.

6. Extract from the Stuart MSS.
(In Jesse, Memoirs of Geo. III. Vol. I.
p. 90.)
(Account of Queen Charlotte by
Sophia Stuart, daughter-in-law
of Lord Bute.)
In the latter years of Queen Char
lotte's life, I used often to spend some
days at the Castle, and in one of these

The Accession of George III. 261

visits heard her Majesty describe her
own wedding. She described her life
at Mecklenburg as one of extreme re
tirement. They dressed only en robe
de ckambre except on Sundays, on
which day she put on her best gown,
and after service, which was very long,
took an airing in the coach and six,
attended by guards and all the state she
could muster. She had not "dined at
table" at the period I am speaking of.
One morning, her eldest brother, of
whom she seems to have stood in great
awe, came to her room in company
with the Duchess, her mother. He
told her to prepare her best clothes, for
they were to have grand convert to
receive an ambassador from the King
of England, and that she should for the
first time dine with them. He added :
— "You will sit next him at dinner:
mind what you say, and ne faites pas
V enfant" — a favourite expression of
his — " and try to amuse him, and show
him that you are not a fool." She
then asked her mother if she was to
put on her blue tabby — " et mes
bijoux}" — "Mon enfant," said the
Duchess, " tu n' en as point." And
the Queen produced her garnet ear
rings, which were strings of beads
sown on a plate, about the size of a
half-crown, and were then in fashion ;
but which, as she said, a housemaid of
these days would despise. Thus at
tired, she followed her mother into the
saloon, and Mr. Drummond was intro
duced to her. To her great surprise
her brother led her out first, which she
supposed he did because it was her first
appearance. Mr. Drummond sat at
her right hand. She asked him about
his journey, and of England, and then
added: — " On me dit que voire Roi
est tres extremement beau et tres-aim-
able,'' which seemed to raise a smile
both in him and the Duke. A little
frightened, she next added: — " Appa-

retnment vous etcs vcnu dcmander la
Princesse de Prusse. On dit qu' elle
est tres-belle et qu'elle sera votre
Reine?" " Jc demande pardon a
votre Altessc ; jc n' ai aucune com
mission pour cela." And the smiles
were so striking that she had not cour
age to open her lips again. In a few
minutes, however, the folding-doors
flew open to the saloon, which she saw
splendidly illuminated ; and there ap
peared a table, two cushions, and every
thing prepared for a wedding. Her
brother then gave her his hand ; and,
leading her in, used his favourite ex
pression : — "Allans, ne faites pas
I' enfant — tu vas etre Reine d' Angle-
terre." Mr. Drummond then ad
vanced. They knelt down. The cere
mony, whatever it was, proceeded.
She was laid on the sofa, upon which
he laid his foot ; and they all embraced
her, calling her, " la Reine." Mr.
Drummond then gave her a magnificent
ecrin of diamonds, one jewel of which
was a little crown which I have often
seen her wear. The evening passed in
admiring the jewels and putting them
on. She declared from that moment
she saw and knew nothing, and was
quite bewildered. Mr. Drummond
pressed for departure. She begged for
one week, that she might take leave of
every person and spot, and particularly
of her mother, of whom she was very
fond. She told me that she ran about
from morning till night visiting the
poor, to whom, she said, a nosegay or
a little fruit were more acceptable than
food. And wherever she lived she had
a garden made for this purpose. She
kept poultry also for the same object.
When the day for her departure came,
she set out for the sea-coast accom
panied by her mother, who consigned
her to the hands of the Duchess of
Ancaster and Lady Effingham ; she
spoke of the agony of that parting,

262

The Accession of George III.

even after so many years, in a manner
that showed what it must have been.
Her mother was in bad health, but
promised to come over in the Spring,
which, however, she never lived to ful
fil. .. . She was an excellent French
scholar ; well read in her own lan
guage ; wrote a very pretty hand ;
played on the guitar and piano, or
rather spinette, having learned of Bach,
and sung very sweetly and correctly.
She also danced a very fine minuet, the
dance of the day ; had a lovely com
plexion, fine hair and teeth, and the
neatest little petite figure, with a pecu
liar elegance.

7. Extracts from Horace Walpole.
Some coquet attempts, which Lady
Sarah [Lennox] afterwards made to
recover his [George's] notice, and her
stooping to bear the Queen's train as
bridemaid, did her more prejudice than
all that was invented against her. . . .
In my opinion the King had thoughts
of her as a wife, but wanted resolution
to oppose his mother and Lord Bute.
Fortunately, no doubt, in this instance ;
for the daughter of a subject, and the
sister-in-law of so ambitious and excep
tionable a man as Fox, would probably
have been productive of most serious
consequences. To avoid returning to
this topic, I will only remember that,
during the wedding service, on mention
of Abraham and Sarah, the King could
not conceal his confusion. And the
day following, when every body was
presented to the Queen, Lord West
moreland, old and dimsighted, seeing
Lady Sarah in the rich habit of bride-
maid, mistook her for Queen, and was
going to kneel and kiss her hand.
But while the arrival of the Queen
was expected, and the approaching
ceremonies of the wedding and corona
tion engrossed the attention of the pub

lic, affairs grew towards a serious crisis
in the Cabinet. . . .
In the end of August, the council
had ordered their ultimate concessions
to be drawn and sent to France. Mr.
Pitt made the draught and carried it to
Council. The other ministers thought
it spoke his sense, not theirs ; or rather,
contained more of an ultimatum than
they were disposed to adhere to. In
defence of his own inflexibility, Mr.
Pitt spoke largely on the haughtiness of
France. Lord Hardwicke said he approved
our not submitting to their haughtiness,
and congratulated his country in not
having been behind hand with them in
that respect. Lord Granville took the
draught and applauded it exceedingly ;
said it deserved to be inserted in the
Acta Regia ; but for his part he did
not love fine letters on business. He
thought even bad Latin preferable to
good in negotiations.
These speeches raised Pitt's choler;
and with reason. He had vindicated
the honour of his country ; and now
was supporting it with a dignity it had
never known since the days of Crom
well. He saw himself abandoned and
ridiculed by his master's ministers ; but
he was not a man to recoil before such
adversaries. If he had assumed an
unwarrantable tone, his situation might
well justify it. He broke out with
great asperity, and told them dictatori-
ally, they should not alter an iota of
the letter. Rhodomontade had been
too favourite a figure with Lord Gran
ville to leave him the dupe of it in
another man. . . . He neither admired
Pitt's exalted diction, nor exalted
views. . . .
The Duke of Bedford, whom the
rest always summoned when they
wanted to combat Pitt and did not dare,
said, "he did not know why he was
called to council, if he was not at lib-

The Accession of George III.

263

erty to debate; and since he was told
they were not to be permitted to alter
an iota, he would come thither no
more,' ' and retired. Some of the others
were less stout. Lord Bute said little,
but that he thought the King' s honour
was concerned in sticking to our own
terms. . . . On the 25th, another coun
cil was held, to which, notwithstanding
his declaration, the Duke of Bedford
returned. . . . Pitt at this council was
more temperate, and submitted to some
small concessions.
On the 7th of September, the new
Queen landed at Harwich. . . . Her
temper appeared to be lively and her
understanding sensible and quick.
Great good-nature, set off by much
grace in her manner, recommended all
she said. Her person was small, and
very lean, but well made. Her face
pale and homely, her nose something
flat, her mouth very large. Her hair
was of a fine brown, and her counten
ance pleasing.
When first she saw the palace she
trembled. The Duchess of Hamilton
smiled. The Queen said, "You may
laugh ; you have been married twice ;
but it is no joke to me." The King
received her in the garden of St.
James's; she would have kneeled, but
he raised and embraced her, and led
her to the Princess, where they and
Lady Augusta dined together. Between
nine and ten at night they went to
chapel. The Duke of Cumberland
gave her away, and after the ceremony
they appeared for a few minutes in the
drawing-room, and then went to sup
per. She played and sung, for music
was her passion, but she loved other
amusements too, and had been accus
tomed to them ; but, excepting her
music, all the rest were retrenched,
nor was she ever suffered to play at
cards, which she loved. While she
was dressing, she was told the King

liked some particular manner of dress.
She said, "Let him dress himself; I
shall dress as I please." They told her
he liked early hours ; she replied, she
did not, and " qu'elle ne voulait pas se
coucher avec les poules." A few weeks
taught her how little power she had
acquired with a Crown. The affection
she conceived for the King softened the
rigour of her captivity. Yet now and
then a sigh stole out, and now and then
she attempted, though in vain, to en
large her restraint. . . .
It was not without reason that the
nation took an alarm, when almost all
who conducted our affairs were deter
mined to take none. Spain for some
time had interposed officiously in behalf
of France, which, said the Spaniards,
was sufficiently humbled, and must not
be ruined. It was known that they had
furnished her with money ; and, as if
they sought an open breach with us,
they demanded for all Spain the same
privilege as Biscay and two other prov
inces enjoyed, of fishing on the coasts
of Newfoundland. This was peremp
torily refused ; and had Mr. Pitt's
influence been equal to his spirit, Lord
Bristol had been immediately recalled
from Madrid. . . . The King of Spain
was possessed with a notion that his
lights were equal to his grandeur. He
listened, or thought he listened, to no
advice : but if anything is more fatal
to a nation than a foolish indolent
prince, it is a foolish one that is active
and obstinate. . . .
Mr. Pitt had fixed his resolution. It
was by one bold stroke to assert the
honour of his country, or to quit the
rudder. He insisted that a fleet of
twelve or fourteen men-of-war should
be instantly sent to Cadiz ; and that
Lord Bristol should be ordered to
demand a sight of the treaty between
Spain and France; and if not accorded,

264

The Accession of George III.

to leave Madrid without delay. When
Spain had given such indications of
her partiality to France, nothing could
be more justifiable than this measure.
But Spain had not restrained herself
within the bounds of favour. In the
midst of the negotiation between us
and France, to which Spain pretended
to offer herself as guarantee, she had
committed a most flagrant and unheard-
of instance of taking part, nay, of add
ing herself as a party to the grievances
complained of. Bussy [The French
envoy], tolerated here as a negotiator,
and without even a character from his
own court, presented to Mr. Pitt a
cavalier note in the name of Spain,
demanding restitution of some prizes
we had made on Spain during the war,
satisfaction for the violation of their
territory by the navy of England,
liberty of fishery on Newfoundland,
and destruction of our settlements on
the Spanish territory, in the bay of
Honduras. A power in amity with us,
and affecting to act as mediator, selects
our enemy's agent to convey their com
plaints ! — what could surpass this in
sult ? — the patience of our ministers
under such indignity — not of Mr. Pitt.
He replied with the majesty of the
Crown he served, — the vengeance of
that Crown slept in other hands.
His hands tied, the nation affronted,
and duped by the partial breaking off
of the treaty with France, no proper
resentment permitted against Spain,
Mr. Pitt found he could do no farther
good. His character had been lost by
acquiesence ; and nothing could rouse
the nation, but his quitting the sphere
of business, where he was so treacher
ously controlled. He had desired to
enter his protest in the council books
against the temporising advice of his
colleagues. He and Lord Temple de
livered to the King their reasons and
advice for a war with Spain ; and

October 2nd Mr. Pitt took leave of the
Council, thanking the ministers of the
late King for the support they had
given to the war ; and on the 5th he
resigned the Seals. Lord Temple
quitted on the 9th following.
It is difficult to say which exulted
most on this occasion, France, Spain,
or Lord Bute, for Mr. Pitt was the
common enemy of all three. . . .
The nation was thunderstruck,
alarmed, and indignant. The City of
London proposed to address the King
to know why Mr. Pitt was dismissed ;
but it being replied, that the King
would tell them he had not dismissed
Mr. Pitt, but had wished him to continue
in employment, the motion dropped.
Some proposed a general mourning ;
others, more reasonable, to thank Mr.
Pitt for his services ; but this too was
damped; for the Favourite'* agents were
not idle, and insinuated that Mr. Pitt
had acted with mischievous views ; for
they who were incapable of great views,
were excellent in undermining. The
King -was advised to heap rewards on
his late minister. The Princess pressed
it eagerly. A peerage, a vast pension,
the government of Canada (as a mark
that it was not to be restored at the
peace), were offered to him. He had
the frailty to accept a peerage for his
wife, and a pension of three thousand a
year for three lives ! . . .
The public, though staggered by the
pension, did not abandon their idol.
. . . On the 9th, the King and all the
royal family dined in the city with the
Lord Mayor. Thither, too, went Mr.
Pitt and Lord Temple in a chariot
together, — a step justly censured, and
very nearly productive of fatal conse
quences. To them all acclamations
were addressed; and the distinctions
paid in the Guildhall to Mr. Pitt, to the
total neglect of the King, bestowed all
the honour of triumph on the former.

r

LAn- j^&s?^^^^ jl<rIdrfy),to
t/i£XAmyDoft/?/' "1 wZztwe tit d^Zofj (f^yejvyoujvjDZAm).

Jtinoag the irtber enl CorrQiqa&ncej erf' tfae War J. inigrbt reckon our ortraorduiiuySllcCeJjf.
*** c^ /?- *W^ V§C die*sVYd ion-id a^amHAhvded- in J
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»iXA~Exnl Confaqvaxces, or- t J^, ,cw CoB.quefc ««r<e^»^; conOdrd ^ ad Obstacles to a.
Peace ?J%&*» Obftacles /umlyr y Lnrdriigife- tXafySx/ xrd/.V^&^f d/y re/mri/e .
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Itntvul' ^ W iyy>^Wi^'^ § duv cywen, iu> <<to 'muM-^ed^k ^rejoice over the good Confe-
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di/wri .gf. Cxmqttedt/ (if Neivfburidlaii.cl '
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Syr/tcd, TlieFctyple of Eught \\i\ .

The Accession of George III.

265

Little was wanting to turn the pageant
into a tragedy. Riots ensued, and
many persons were insulted.

8. An Hieroglyphical, Enigmatical,
and Paradoxical address, to the Laird
of the Bute relative to the Loss of New
foundland. (See opposite page !)
Among the other evil Consequences ofthe
War, I might reckon our extraordinary Suc
cess. — Briton, No. VI.
May it please your Lairdship ! At a
time when the Nation is again em
broiled in all the Horrors of Faction,
and that the Demon of Discord has
once more kindled his torch to light up
the flames of civil Sedition, it can not
but give the greatest Satisfaction to your
Lairdship's Friends in General that the
Dawn of your ministerial Conduct has
been attended with such happy effects,
¦so likely to put a speedy End to the
War. We proceed wholly upon the Maxim
adopted by the Author of our Motto ; a
Maxim which, (however paradoxical it
may appear,) can [not? scarcely?] be
enough admired for its novelty, as well
as for the forcible conviction it carries
along with it : — New it surely must be
allowed to be ; for who in the name of
wonder, would have dream'd, (before
your Lairdship's Friend the Briton
informed us so) that success could ever
be attended with Evil Consequences, or
that our Conquests were to be consid
ered but as Obstacles to a Peace?
These Obstacles however your Laird
ship's Sagacity will effectually remove.
We had hitherto foolishly imagin'd,
that our numerous Acquisitions, the

fruits of our late mischievous Minister's
officious Zeal for the public Service,
were so many Means of weakening our
Enemies, and that the reducing their
Power was the surest Way to make
them submit to our own Terms of Ac
commodation. — Wretched Mistake!
Fatal Error! Was it for this We so
loudly applauded the minister who was
daily accumulating so many Evil Con
sequences upon us? Was it for this
We hung upon his Chariot Wheels and
bore him through the City with inces
sant Shouts and triumphant Acclama
tions? For this did he receive Ad
dresses from all the Cities and Cor
porations of Great Britain, upon every
new Accession of Misfortune he en
tailed upon us? How much are we
indebted to your Lairdship's judicious
Advocate, for dispelling the mists of
Popular Prejudice by which we had
been so long blinded, and how greatly
will it redound to your glory that you
have given us so much Reason to rejoice
over the good Consequences of our
Losses, and the evil ones resulting to
our Enemies the French, from the
important Conquest of Newfoundland !
Suffer not then, my Laird, the Ignis
Fatuus of Glory to lead you astray, and
your Lairdship will soon put an end to
the War : for if our Losses are repeated,
in Proportion as our Conquests were
acquir'd, we can not fail of obtaining a
Peace, even upon the equitable Terms
which the two illustrious Branches of
the House of Bourbon shall think fit to
prescribe.
Signed, The People of England.
Price 6d.

266 William Pitt and the American War

GROUP XXVIII.
WILLIAM PITT AND THE AMERICAN WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

i. Extracts from Pitt's Speeches.
(In Life of Pitt. London, 1S10.)
May 27, 1774.
My Lords : ... If we take a tran
sient view of those motives which
induced the ancestors of our fellow-
subjects in America to leave their native
country, to encounter the innumerable
difficulties of the unexplored regions of
the western world, our astonishment at
the present conduct of their descendants
will naturally subside. There was no
corner oi the world into which men of
their free and enterprising spirit would
not fly with alacrity, rather than submit
to the slavish and tyrannical principles,
which prevailed at that period in their
native country. And shall we wonder,
my Lords, if the descendants of such
illustrious characters spurn, with con
tempt, the hand of unconstitutional
power, that would snatch from them
such dear-bought privileges as they now
contend for? Had the British Colonies
been planted by any other kingdom
than our own, the inhabitants would
have carried with them the chains of
slavery, and spirit of despotism ; but as
they are, they ought to be remembered
as great instances to instruct the world,
what great exertions mankind will nat
urally make, when they are left to the
free exercise of their own powers. And,
my Lords, notwithstanding my inten
tion to give my hearty negative to the
question now before you [a bill for
quartering soldiers in America], I can
not help condemming, in the severest
manner, the late turbulent and unwar
rantable conduct of the Americans in
some instances, particularly in the late
riots of Boston. But, my Lords, the
mode which has been pursued to bring
them back to a sense of their duty to

their parent state has been diametrically-
opposite to the fundamental principles
of sound policy. . . . By blocking up
the harbour of Boston, you have in
volved the innocent trader in the same
punishment with the guilty profligates
who destroyed your merchandize ; and
instead of making a well-concerted
effort to secure the real offenders, you
clap a military and naval extinguisher
over their harbour. . . .
My Lords, this country is little
obliged to the framers and promoters
of this tea-tax. The Americans had
almost forgot, in their excess of grati
tude for the repeal of the stamp act,
any interest but that of the mother
country ; there seemed an emulation
among the different provinces, who
should be most dutiful and forward in
their expressions of loyalty. . . . But
the moment they perceived your inten
tion was renewed to tax them, under a
pretence of serving the East India Com
pany, their resentment got the ascend
ant of their moderation, and hurried
them into actions contrary to law,
which, in their cooler hours, they would
have thought on with horror ; for I
sincerely believe, the destroying of the
tea was the effect of despair.
But my Lords, from the complexion
of the whole of the proceedings, I think
that administration has purposely irri
tated them into those violent acts, for
which they now so severely smart ;
purposely to be revenged on them for
the victory they gained by the repeal of
the stamp act. . . . For what other
motive could induce them to dress tax
ation, that father of American sedition,
in the robes of an East India Director,
but to break in upon that mutual peace
and harmony. . . .

William Pitt and the American War 267

My Lords, I am an old man, and
would advise the noble Lords in office
to adopt a more gentle mode of govern
ing America ; for the day is not far
distant, when America may vie with
these kingdoms, not only in arms, but
in arts also. It is an established fact,
that the principal towns in America are
learned and polite, and understand the
constitution of the empire as well as the
noble Lords who are now in office ;
and consequently they will have a
watchful eye over their liberties, to
prevent the least encroachment on their
hereditary rights. . . .
This, my Lords, though no new
doctrine, has always been my received
and unalterable opinion, and I will
carry it to my grave, that this country
had no right under heaven to tax
America. It is contrary to all the prin
ciples of justice and civil policy. . . .
Such proceedings will never meet their
wished-for success ; and, instead of
adding to their miseries, as the bill now
before you most undoubtedly does,
adopt some lenient measures, which
may lure them to their duty ; proceed
like a kind and affectionate parent over
a child whom he tenderly loves ; and,
instead of those harsh and severe pro
ceedings pass an amnesty on all their
youthful errors ; clasp them once more
in your fond and affectionate arms ; and
I will venture to affirm you will find
them children worthy of their sire. . . .
Nov. 29, 1774.
I wish, my Lords, not to lose a day
in this urgent, pressing crisis ; an hour
now lost in allaying ferments in Amer
ica, may produce years of calamity : for
my own part, I will not desert, for a
moment, the conduct of this weighty
business, from the first to the last ; un
less nailed to my bed by the extremity
of sickness, I will give it unremitted
attention ; I will knock at the door of
this sleeping and confounded Ministry,

and will rouse them to a sense of their
important danger. . . .
I contend not for indulgence, but
justice to America ; and I shall ever
contend, that the Americans justly owe
obedience to us in a limited degree, . . .
but let the line be skillfully drawn. . . .
Let the sacredness of their property re
main inviolate ; let it be taxable only
by their own consent, given in their
provincial assemblies, else it will cease
to be property. . . .
Adopt, then, the grace, while you
have the opportunity of reconcilement ;
or at least prepare the way. — Allay the
ferment prevailing in America, by re
moving the obnoxious hostile cause [the
troops] — obnoxious and unserviceable ;
for their merit can be only inaction :
"Non dimicare et vincere," their vic
tory can never be by exertions. Their
force would be most disproportionately
exerted against a brave, generous, and
united people, with arms in their hands,
and courage in their hearts : — three
millions of people, the genuine descend
ants of a valiant and pious ancestry,
driven to those deserts [ ? ] by the narrow
maxims of a superstitious tyranny. —
And is the spirit of persecution never
to be appeased ? Are the brave sons
of those brave forefathers to inherit
their sufferings, as they have inherited
their virtues? Are they to sustain the
affliction of the most oppressive and un
exampled severity, beyond the accounts
of history, or description of poetry ?
... I remember some years ago, when
the repeal of the stamp act was in agi
tation, conversing in a friendly confi
dence with a person of undoubted re
spect and authenticity [Franklin] . . .
and he assured me : . . . That you
might destroy their towns, and cut
them off from the superfluities, perhaps
the conveniences of life ; but that they
were prepared to despise your power,
and would not lament their loss, whilst

268 William Pitt and the American War

they have — what, my Lords ? — their
woods and their liberty. . . . The
spirit which now resists your taxation
in America, is the same which formerly
opposed loans, benevolences, and ship-
money, in England : the same spirit
which called all England on its legs,
and by the Bill of Rights vindicated
the English constitution : the same
spirit which established the great fun
damental, essential maxim of your lib
erties, that no subject of England
shall be taxed but by his own consent.
This glorious spirit of Whiggism ani
mates three millions in America ; who
prefer poverty with liberty, to gilded
chains and sordid affluence ; and who
will die in defence of their rights as
men, as freemen. . . . As an Ameri
can I would recognize to England her
supreme right of regulating commerce
and navigation : as an Englishman by
birth and principle, I would recognize
to the Americans their supreme unalien
able right in their property ; a right
which they are justified in the defence
of to the last extremity. To maintain
this principle is the common cause of
the Whigs on the other side of the
Atlantic, and on this. " ' Tis liberty
to liberty engaged," that they will de
fend themselves, their families, and
their country. In this great cause they
are immoveably allied : it is the alliance
of God and nature — immutable, eternal
— fixed as the firmament of heaven. . . .
When your Lordships look at the
papers transmitted us from America ;
when you consider their decency, firm
ness, and wisdom, you cannot but
respect their cause, and wish to make
it your own. For myself, I must
declare and avow, that in all my read
ing and observation — and it has been
my favourite study — I have read Thu-
cidydes, and have studied and admired
the master-states of the world — that for
solidity of reasoning, force of sagacity,

and wisdom of conclusion, under such
a complication of difficult circum
stances, no nation, or body of men,
can stand in preference to the general
Congress at Philadelphia. I trust it is
obvious to your Lordships, that all
attempts to impose servitude upon such
men, to establish despotism over such a
mighty continental nation, must be vain,
must be fatal. We shall be forced
ultimately to retract; let us retract
while we can, not when we must. I
say we must necessarily undo these
violent oppressive acts : they must be
repealed — you -will repeal them; T
pledge myself for it, that you will in
the end repeal them; I stake my
reputation on it : — / will consent to
be taken for an idiot, if they arc not
finally repealed. . . . May 13, 1777.
... If an end is not put to this
war, there is an end to this country. I
do not trust my judgment in my pres
ent state of health ; this is the judg
ment of my better days ; the result of
forty years attention to America. They
are rebels : but what are they rebels
for ? Surely not for defending their
unquestionable rights ! . . . America
has carried you through former wars,
and will now carry you to your death,
if you don't take things in time. . . .
You have been three yeais teaching
them the art of war. They are apt
scholars, and I will venture to tell your
Lordships, that the American gentry
will make officers enough fit to com
mand the troops of all the European
powers. . . . You have said, lay clown
your arms, and she has given you the
Spartan answer, " Come take."

2. Speech from the throne of George
III., Nov. 18, 1777. (In Thackeray's
Life of Pitt, Vol. II. p. 322.)
It is a great satisfaction to me that I
can have recourse to the wisdom and

William Pitt and the American War 269

support of my parliament in this con
juncture, when the continuance of the
rebellion in North America demands
our most serious attention. The pow
ers you have entrusted me with, for the
suppression of this revolt, have been
faithfully exerted . . . . I am persuaded
you will see the necessity of preparing
for such further operations as the con
tingencies of the war, and the obsti
nacy of the rebels may render expedient.
. . . And I still hope, that the deluded
and unhappy multitude will return to
their allegiance ; and that the remem
brance of what they once enjoyed, the
regret for what they have lost, and the
feelings of what they now suffer under
the arbitrary tyranny of their leaders,
will rekindle in their hearts a spirit of
loyalty to their Sovereign, and of at
tachment to their mother-country ; and
that they will enable me, with the con
currence and support of my Parliament,
to accomplish what I shall consider as
the greatest happiness of my life, and
the greatest glory of my reign, the
restoration of peace, order, and confi
dence to my American Colonies.

3. Speech of Lord Chatham on the
subject of an address in answer to the
Speech from the Throne.
I rise, my Lords, to declare my senti
ments on this most solemn and serious
subject. ... I will not join in con
gratulation on misfortune and disgrace :
I cannot concur in a blind and servile
address, which approves, and endeavors
to sanctify, the monstrous measures
that have heaped disgrace and misfor
tune upon us — that have brought ruin
to our doors. This, my Lords, is a
perilous and tremendous moment ! It
is no time for adulation. The smooth
ness of flattery cannot now avail — can
not save us in this rugged and awful
crisis. It is now necessary to instruct
the Throne in the language of truth.

We must dispel the delusion and dark
ness that envelope it ; and display, in
its full danger and true colors, the
ruin that is brought to our doors. . . .
But yesterday, and England might
have stood against the world: noxv
none so poor to do her reverence. I use
the words of a poet ; but though it be
poetry, it is no fiction. It is a shame
ful truth, that not only the power and
strength of this country are wasting
away and expiring ; but her well-
earned glories, her true honor, and sub
stantial dignity, are sacrificed. France,
my Lords, has insulted you ; she has
encouraged and sustained America;
and whether America be wrong or
right, the dignity of this country ought
to spurn at the officious insult of French
interference. The ministers and am
bassadors of those who are called rebels
and enemies are in Paris ; in Paris they
transact the reciprocal interests of
America and France. Can there be a
more mortifying insult? Can even our
ministers sustain a more humiliating
disgrace? . . .
My Lords, this ruinous and ignomin
ious situation, where we cannot act
with success, nor suffer with honor,
calls upon us to remonstrate in the
strongest and loudest language of truth,
to rescue the ear of Majesty from the
delusions which surround it. The des
perate state of our arms abroad is in
part known : no man thinks more
highly of them than I do : I love and
honor the English troops : I know their
virtues and their valor : I know they
can achieve anything except impossi
bilities ; and I know that the conquest
of English America is an impossibility.
You cannot, I venture to say, you
cannot conquer America. Your
armies last war effected everything that
could be effected; and what was it?
It cost a numerous army, under the
command of a most able general

270 William Pitt and the American War

(Amherst), now a noble Lord in this
house, a long and laborious campaign,
to expel five thousand Frenchmen from
French America. My Lords, you can
not conquer America. What is your
present situation there ? We do not
know the worst ; but we know, that
in three campaigns we have done noth
ing, and suffered much. Besides the
sufferings, perhaps total loss, of the
Northern force (Burgoyne's army),
the best appointed army that ever took
the field commanded by Sir William
Howe, has retired from the American
lines ; he was obliged to relinquish his
attempt, and, with great delay and
danger, to adopt a new and distant
plan of operations. We shall soon
know, and in any event have reason to
lament, what may have happened since.
As to conquest, therefore, my Lords, I
repeat, it is impossible. — You may
swell every expence, and every effort,
still more extravagantly ; pile and accu
mulate every assistance you can buy or
borrow ; traffic and barter with every
little pitiful German Prince, that sells
and sends his subjects to the shambles
of a foreign Prince ; your efforts are
forever vain and impotent — doubly so
from this mercenary aid on which you
rely ; for it irritates to an incurable
resentment, the minds of your enemies
— to overrun them with the mercenary
sons of rapine and plunder ; devoting
them and their possessions to the rapac
ity of hireling cruelty ! If I were an
American, as I am an Englishman,
while a foreign troop was landed in my
tountry, I never would lay down my
arms — never — never — never. . . .
But, my Lords, who is the man that,
in addition to these disgraces and mis
chiefs of our army, has dared to au
thorize and associate to our arms the
tomahawk and scalping-knife of the
savage ? To call into civilized alliance
the wild and inhuman savage of the

woods ; to delegate to the merciless
Indian the defence of disputed rights,
and to wage the horrors of his barbar
ous war against our brethren? My
Lords, these enormities cry aloud for
redress and punishment : unless thor
oughly done away, it will be a stain on
the national character — it is a violation
of the constitution — I believe it is
against law. It is not the least of our
national misfortunes, that the strength
and character of our armies are thus
impaired : infected with the mercenary
spirit of robbery and rapine — familiar
ized to the horrid scenes of savage
cruelty, it can no longer boast of the
noble and generous principles which
dignify a soldier ; no longer sympathize
with the dignity of the royal banner,
nor feel the pride, pomp, and circum
stance of glorious war, "that make
ambition virtue!" What makes am
bition virtue ? — the sense of honor. . . .
In a just and necessary war, to main
tain the rights or honor of my country,
I would strip the shirt from my back to
support it. But in such a war as this,
unjust in its principle, impracticable in
its means, and ruinous in its conse
quences, I would not contribute a single
effort, nor a single shilling. . . .
Lord Suffolk (defending the employ
ment of the Indians in the war and
contending, that, besides its policy
and necessity it was allowable also on
principle) : "it is perfectly justifiable
to use all the means that God and
Nature put into our hands." Pitt
(suddenly rising) : " I am astonished,
shocked ! to hear such principles con
fessed — to hear them avowed in this
House, or in this country : — principles
equally unconstitutional, inhuman and
unchristian ! My Lords, I did not in
tend to have encroached again upon
your attention ; but I cannot repress
my indignation — I feel myself impelled
by every duty. My Lords, we are

William Pitt and the American War

271

called upon as members of this house,
as men, as Christian men, to protest
against such notions standing near the
throne, polluting the ear of Majesty.
" That God and Nature put into our
hands!" I know not what ideas that
Lord may entertain of God and nature ;
but I know, that such abominable prin
ciples are equally abhorrent to religion
and humanity. — What ! to attribute the
sacred sanction of God and nature to the
massacres of the Indian scalping knife
— to the cannibal savage torturing,
murdering, roasting and eating ; liter
ally, my Lords, eating the mangled
victims of his barbarous battles. Such
horrible notions shock every precept of
religion, divine or natural, and every
generous feeling of humanity. And, my
Lords, they shock every sentiment of
honor ; they shock me as a lover of
honorable war, and a detester of mur
derous barbarity. . . . From the tapes
try that adorns these walls, the immortal
ancestor [Admiral Howard] of this
noble Lord [Suffolk] frowns with in
dignation at the disgrace of his country.
In vain he led your victorious fleets
against the boasted Armada of Spain ;
in vain he defended and established the
honor, the liberties, the religion, the
Protestant religion, of this country,
against the arbitrary cruelties of Popery
and the Inquisition, if these more than
popish cruelties and inquisitorial prac
tices are let loose among us ; to turn
forth into our settlements, among our
ancient connexions, friends and rela
tions, the merciless cannibal, thirsting
for the blood of man, woman and child !
to send forth the infidel savage — against
whom ? against your Protestant breth
ren ; to lay waste their country, to
desolate their dwellings, and extirpate
their race and name, with these hor
rible hell-hounds of savage war ! —
hell-hounds, I say, of savage war!
Spain armed herself with blood-hounds

to extirpate the wretched natives of
America ; and we improve on the
inhuman example even of Spanish
cruelty; we turn loose these savage
hell-hounds against our brethren and
countrymen in America, of the same
language, laws, liberties and religion;
endeared to us by every tie that should
sanctify humanity. . . . I again implore
these holy prelates of our religion, to
do away with these iniquities from
among us. Let them perform a lustra
tion ; let them purify this House and
this country from this sin. My Lords,
I am old and weak and at present
unable to say more ; but my feelings
and indignation were too strong to have
said less. I could not have slept this
night in my bed, nor reposed my head
on my pillow, without giving this vent
to my eternal abhorrence of such pre
posterous and enormous principles."
(Pitts amendment was rejected by a
large majority.)
Extract from Seward' s Anecdotes.
(Vol. II. p. 383. London, 1804.)
Lord Chatham came into the House
of Lords, leaning upon two friends,
lapped up in flannel, pale and ema
ciated. Within his large wig little
more was to be seen than his aquiline
nose and his penetrating eye. He
looked like a dying man ; yet never
was seen a figure of more dignity : he
appeared like a being of a superior
species. He rose from his feet with
slowness and difficulty, leaning on his
crutches and supported under each arm
by his two friends. He took one hand
from his crutch and raised it, casting
his eyes towards Heaven, and said, " I
thank God that I have been enabled to
come here this day — to perform my
duty and to speak on a subject which
has so deeply impressed my mind. I
am old and infirm — have one foot,
more than one foot in the grave — I am

272 William Pitt and the American War

risen from my bed, to stand up in the
cause of my country — perhaps never
again to speak in this house " — a proph
ecy too fatally fulfilled !
The purport of his speech is well-
known. The reverence — the attention
— the stillness of the House was most
affecting : if any one had dropped an
handkerchief, the noise would have
been heard.
At first he spoke in a very low and
feeble tone ; but as he grew warm, his
voice rose, and was as harmonious as
ever : oratorical and affecting, perhaps
more than at any former period ; both
from his own situation and from the
importance of the subject on which he
spoke. He gave the whole history of
the American War ; of all the measures
to which he had objected ; and all the
evils which he had prophecied in con
sequence of them ; adding at the end of
„each, " and so it proved ! "
In one part of his speech he ridiculed
the apprehension of an invasion, and
then recalled the remembrance of for
mer invasions. " Of a Spanish inva
sion, of a French invasion, of a Dutch
invasion, many noble Lords may have
read in history ; and some Lords (look
ing keenly at one who sat near him)

may, perhaps, remember a Scotch in
vasion." While the Duke of Richmond was
speaking he looked at him with atten
tion and composure ; but when he rose
up to answer, his strength failed him
and he fell backwards. He was
instantly supported by those who were
near him, and every one pressed round
him with anxious solicitude. His
youngest son, the Honorable James
Pitt (since dead), was particularly
anxious and clever in assisting his ven
erable father, though the youth was not
more than 17 or 18 years of age.
Lord Chatham was carried to Mr.
Sergent's house, in Downing-Street,
where he was accommodated with
every kind and friendly attention, both
at this time and on a preceding day,
when he had attended the House of
Lords, some weeks before. From
thence he was carried- home to Hayes,
and put to bed. He never rose again!
Therefore his death may be properly
said to have happened in the House of
Lords, in the discharge of his great po
litical duty : a duty, which he came in
a dying state, to perform !
Such was the glorious end of this
Great Man !

GROUP XXIX.

GEORGE III. AND HIS HEIR APPARENT.

1. Extract from the Memoirs of Vis
count Melbourne. (Edited by Mc-
Cullagh Torrens. Vol. I. p. 156.)
Lord Essex used to tell how George
III, about to mount his horse for a
morning ride, noticed that the heir
apparent, whom he desired to accom
pany him and who stood uncovered by his
side, wore a wig, and he asked sharply
why he did so ; the Prince replied
"that he found himself subject to
take cold, and that he had been ad

vised by his physician to take this pre
caution." His Majesty turned to the
lord-in-waiting and said, "A lie ever
ready when it's wanted." . . .
When Regent he [George IV] once
called on Lady Spencer to ask her to
do him a great service. He wished her
to choose a person of attainments and
accomplishments to be governess to the
Princess Charlotte. Above all things,
he desired that the lady should teach
his daughter always to tell the truth.'

Ill's Most Oi

Majesty Kwg ckoiu;k -ruv. "in mo.

George III. and his Heir Apparent 273

Lady Spencer betrayed by the expres
sion of her features what was passing
in her mind. On which his Royal
Highness observed, " You know I
don't speak the truth, and my brothers
don't, and I find it a great defect, from
which I would have my daughter free.
We have always been brought up badly,
the Queen having taught us to equivo
cate ; and I want you to help me in the
matter." Letter of Major- General Gren-
ville to Earl Cornwallis. (Corn wal
lis Correspondence. London, 1859.
Vol. I. p. 348.) Dec. 20, 1787.
We are totally guided by  [the
Prince of Wales], and thoroughly initi
ated into all the extravagancies and de
baucheries of this most virtuous me
tropolis. Our visits to Windsor are less
frequent, and I am afraid will at last be
totally given up ... I flatter myself
still . . . [that] we shall perceive before
// is too late, that we are losing our
selves in the eyes of the world, and
throwing away the finest game that ever
man had presented to him.
Extract from Mrs. Papendiek' s
fournals. (London, 1887. Vol. I.
p. 256.) 1 781.
... At the end of this session, the
Prince of Wales solicited that the sum
stipulated for the repairs of Carlton
House should be paid to him, and the
answer was that it was ready and would
be given to the commissioners, on prov
ing their accounts. This his ¦ Royal
Highness would not listen to ; it was
represented that the screen alone had
cost more than the Crown had allowed
for the whole, and he wished to have
the disposal of any money he could lay
his hands on. ... Of these and many
other extravagances, was the King
aware, and as the Crown would not
pay his debts, the Prince threw up his

establishment, declared himself a bank
rupt, and all the appointments null and
void. [His debts, a little later,
amounted to more than 600,000/. — Ed.]
General Grant to Earl Cornwallis.
(Cornwallis Correspondence. London,
I359-) April 6, 1788.
. . . At the Irish Club we have been
honoured with the presence of the
Prince of Wales and Duke of York,
who are reciprocally obliged to one
another ; the Prince has taught the
Duke to drink in the most liberal and
copious way, and the Duke in return
has been equally successful in teaching
his brother to lose his money at all
sorts of play — Qiiinze, Hazard, etc.
. . . These play parties have chiefly
taken place at a new Club, formed this
winter by the Prince of Wales in oppo
sition to Brookes' s, because Tarleton
and Jack Payne, proposed by his Royal
Highness, were black-balled. The
Club by way of distinction, as there
are so many of them in St. James's
Street, passes under the name of the
Dover House.
Letter of the Duke of Dorset to
Air. Eden (Auckland Correspond
ence 1,393), Oct. 6, 1786.
... I never saw the King in such
spirits, — they rise in proportion to the
stocks, which are beyond the sanguine
expectations of everybody. The Heir
apparent is still at Brighton and drives
the whole world away.
Air. Storer to Air. Eden.
Jan. 18, 1788.
. . . The King walks twelve miles
in his way from Windsor to London,
which is more than the Prince of
Wales can do a V heure qu' il est. So
there is but little chance for the X's.
Adieu. Nov. 14, 1788.
Dear Eden : All sorts of news are
drowned in the great event of the

274 George III. and his Heir Apparent

King's illness. . . . Every day seems
to produce worse symptoms, both of
his life and his reason ; and it seems
among the physicians a general opinion,
that if the King does not die, there is
very little probability of his recovering
his senses. It is reported, but how far
that report is to be depended on I can
not tell, that ministers will endeavour
to appoint a Regency, the Prince, of
course, to be Regent, but that he is to
be saddled with a Council. . . .

2. Extracts from the Diary of
Madame d'Arblay. (London, 1S42,
Vol. IV. p. 273.)
Saturday, Oct. 25 — Nov. 1.
I had a sort of conference with his
Majesty, or rather I was the object to
whom he spoke, with a manner so
uncommon, that a high fever alone
could account for it ; a rapidity, a
hoarseness of voice, a volubility, an
earnestness — a vehemence, rather — it
startled me inexpressibly. . . . The
Queen is evidently in great uneasiness.
. . . During the reading this morning,
twice, at pathetic passages, my poor
Queen shed tears. " How nervous I
am ! " she cried ; "I am quite a fool !
Don't you think so?" "No, ma'am!"
was all that I dared answer. . . .
Nov. 5th.
O dreadful day ! My very heart has
so sickened in looking over my memo
randums, that I was forced to go to
other employment. I will not, how
ever, omit its narration. . . .
O my dear friends, what a history !
The King at dinner, had broken forth
into positive delirium, which long had
been menacing all who saw him most
closely ; and the Queen was so over
powered as to fall into violent hysterics.
All the Princesses were in misery, and
the Prince of Wales had burst into
tears. No one knew what was to
follow. . . .

At length news was brought that Dr.
Warren was arrived. I never felt so
rejoiced ; I could have run out to wel
come him with rapture. . . . We now
expected every moment Dr. Warren-
would bring her Majesty his opinion;
but he neither came nor sent.- She
sent for Sir George [Baker] — he' would
not speak alone. ... At length. Lady
Elizabeth learnt among the pages that
Dr. Warren had quitted his post of
watching. The poor Queen now, in a
torrent of tears, prepared herself for
seeing him.
He came not.
All astonished and impatient, Lady
Elizabeth was sent out on enquiries.
She returned, and said Dr. Warren
was gone. "Run, stop him!" was
the Queen's next order. . . . Dr. War
ren, with the other two physicians, had
left the house too far to be recalled ;
they were gone -over to the Castle, to
the Prince of Wales.
I think a deeper blow I have never
witnessed. Already to become - but
second, even for the King ! The tears
were now wiped; indignation arose j
with pain. . . . Nov. 7.
. . . While I was yet with my poor
Royal Sufferer this morning the Prince
of Wales came hastily into the. room.
He apologised for his intrusion, and
then gave a very energetic history of
the preceding night. It : had been
indeed most affectingly dreadful. The
King had risen in the middle of -the
night, and would take no denial to
walking into the next room. There he
saw the large congress I have mentioned
[of anxious watchers] ; amazed and in
consternation, he demanded what they
did there. . . . Sir George Baker . . .
attempted only to speak, and the King
penned him in a corner, told him he
was a mere old woman — that he won
dered he had ever followed his advice,

George III. and his Heir Apparent 275

for he knew nothing of his complaint,
which was only nervous. . . . Mr.
Fairly ./. . came boldly up to him,
and took him by the arm, and begged
him to go to bed, and then drew him
along, and said he must go. Then he
said he would not, and cried " Who
are you ? " "I am Mr. Fairly, sir," he
answered, " and your Majesty has been
very good to me often, and now I am
going to be very good to you, for you
unust come to bed, sir : it is necessary
to your life." And then he was so
surprised, that he let himself be drawn
along just like a child ; and so they got
him to bed.
Letter of f. W. Payne to Richard
Brinsley Sheridan. ? (In Moore's
Sheridan, p.. 355.)
. . . I find that the present distemper
has been very palpable for some time
past. . . . the two days (viz : yester
day se'ennight and the Monday follow
ing) that he was five hours each on
horseback, he was in a confirmed
frenzy. On the Monday at his return
he burst out into tears to the Duke of
York, and said, " He wished to God
he might die, for he was going to be
mad." . . . The Doctors told Pitt . . .
that they were perfectly ready to declare
now, for the furtherance of public bus
iness, that he is now insane.
Letter of Lord Bulkeley to the
Marquis of Buckingham. (In Buck
ingham Papers. London, 1S53, p. 444.)
Nov. 11, 1788.
. . . We have been at Windsor the
last three mornings, and sorry am I to
tell you that poor Rex's state seems
worse than a thousand deaths ; for un
less God interposes by some miracle,
there is every appearance of his living
with the loss of his intellects. ... I
saw the General, who was exceedingly
guarded, as they all are who really love

poor Rex. . . . JThe Queen sees nobody
but Lady Constance, Lady Charlotte
Finch, Miss Burney, and her two sons,
who, I am afraid, do not announce the
state of the King's health with that
caution and delicacy which should be
observed to the wife and the mother,
and it is to them only that she looks
up. . . .
The stocks are already fallen 2 per
cent, and the alarms of the people of
London are very little flattering to the
Prince.

3. Extract from Lady Harcourt' s
Diary. (In Jesse, Memoirs of the
Reign of George III.) 178S.
. . . The unhappy patient upon
whom this, the most terrible visitation
of Heaven, has fallen, was no longer
dealt with as a human being. His
body was immediately enclosed in a
machine, which left it no liberty of
motion. He was sometimes chained to
a staple. He was frequently beaten
and starved, and, at the best, he was
kept in subjection by menacing and
violent language. The history of the
King's illness showed that the most
exalted station did not wholly exempt
the sufferer from this stupid and in
human usage. The King's disorder
manifested itsself principally in unceas
ing talk, but no disposition to violence
was exhibited. Yet he was subjected
constantly to the severe discipline of
the straight waistcoat ; he was secluded
from the Queen and his family ; he was
denied the use of a knife and fork, of
scissors, or any instrument with which
he might inflict bodily injury. Such
petty vexatious treatment could not fail
to aggravate a disorder, the leading
symptom of which was nervous irri
tability, caused by over application,
extreme abstemiousness, and domestic
anxiety. It would have been well if

276 George III. and his Heir Apparent

the errors of the physicians had been
confined to ignorance. But their negli
gence was still more reprehensible.
While the poor maniac was deprived
of those tender offices which his wife
and daughters might have rendered, he
was abandoned to the care of low mer
cenaries, and so little discrimination
was observed in the choice of his at
tendants, that the charge of his person
devolved chiefly on a German page
named Ernst, who was utterly un
worthy to be trusted with the care of
the humblest of his fellow creatures.
This man, who had been raised by the
patronage of His Majesty, repaid the
kindness of his royal master with the
most brutal ingratitude. He went so
far as to strike the helpless King ; and
on one occasion, when his Majesty
wished to protract his exercise in the
gardens at Kew, Ernst seized him in
his arms, carried him into a chamber,
and throwing him violently on a sofa,
exclaimed in an insolent manner to the
attendants, "There is your King for
you." [Lady Harcourt was a Lady of the
Bedchamber to the Queen, and gives
the King himself as voucher for some
of these details — not altogether a safe
source of information. We know how
ever that the page Ernst had a violent
temper ; Mrs. Papendiek speaks of him
as being in " one of his bad humours."
That the physicians who were first
called in used a restrictive policy, which
Dr. Willis at once reversed, is also
certain. Medical methods were still
very barbarous. Lady Harcourt' s
testimony can not be entirely thrown
aside. It is to her that we owe certain
other shocking details — as, for instance,
the fact that at Brookes' s, the fashion
able club for card-playing, it was usual
for the Prince's followers to say " I
play the lunatic," meaning the King.
— Ld.J

Extract from Twiss's Life of Lord
Chancellor Eldon. (London, 1844.
Vol. I. p. 230.)
The King, during one of his illnesses,
complained to Lord Eldon, who re
lated the story to Mr. Farrar, that a
man in the employ of some of his
physicians, had knocked him down.
"When I got up again," added the
King, "I said my foot had slipped,
and ascribed my fall to that ; it would
not do for me to admit that the King
had been knocked down by any one."
Mr. W. W. Grenville to the Mar
quis of Buckingham. Dec. 7, 17S8.
... I have just seen a man who saw
a note of Willis's dated late last night,
in which he says that he is confident
the King would do very well. ... It
is quite ridiculous to see how angry the
Opposition are at the report of the phy
sicians. . . . The behaviour of the two-
princes is such as to shock every man's
feelings. What do you think of the
Duke of York's having a meeting of
the Opposition at his house on Thurs
day, before the House of Lords met,
and then going down there to hear the
examinations [of the physicians] read ?
After that, they closed the day by both
going in the evening to Brooks's. The
truth is, that the Duke is entirely in his
brother's hands, and that the latter is
taking inconceivable pains to keep him
so. . . . There seems great reason to
believe that the Prince of Wales is
inclined to go to all the lengths to which
that party are pushing him. . . .
In the midst of all this confusion, and
while his sons and brothers are strug
gling to gain entire possession of his
authority, the King may recover his
reason. What a scene will present
itsself to him ! and how devoutly must
he pray, if he is wise, to lose again all
power of recollection or reflection.

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George III. and his Heir Apparent 277

Dec. 21.
You will see in the Opposition papers
that they are beginning to abuse the
Queen in the most open and scandalous
manner. . . .
If we were together, I could tell you
some particulars of the Prince of
Wales's behaviour towards the King
and her, within these few days, that
would make your blood run cold ; but
I dare not commit them to paper, be
cause of my informant.
Lord Bulkeley to Marquis of
Buckingham . No date.
The Princes go on in their usual style,
both keeping open houses, and employ
ing every means in their power to gain
proselytes. . . . The Duke of York
never misses a night at Brookes' s,
where the hawks pluck his feathers un
mercifully, and have reduced him to
the vowels I. O. U. The Prince like
wise attends very often, and has taken
kindly to play.

4. Mrs. Papendiek's Journals.
The King was allowed pens, ink and
paper, and wrote down, as a sort of
journal, every occurrence that took
place, and every conversation, as cor
rectly, as could be.
Twice only was the King shaved
between November and some time in
January. My father, though principal
barber, the title of his 300/. a year
place, was too nervous to undertake it.
Mr. Papendiek, however, was ready.
He begged the Queen to have Palmer,
the razor-maker, down, that there might
be no flaw or hitch in the instruments,
and the razor well sharpened. This
was done, and Mr. Papendiek succeeded
in clearing the two cheeks at one sitting,
which, with the King's talking in be
tween, was nearly a two hours' job.
The Queen, out of sight of. the King,
sat patiently to see it done, which was

achieved without one drop of blood.
The condition of the Queen was pitiable
in the extreme. The first days of her
terrible grief she passed almost entirely
with her hands and arms stretched
across a table before her, with her
head resting upon them, and she took
nothing to eat or drink except once or
twice a little barley water. . . . Mr.
Papendiek told me afterwards that the
silence and gloom within the walls of
the Lodge was something terrible. . . .
The conduct of the Prince of Wales
was, during this season of affliction,
very heartless. ... At first the Queen
could not make up her mind to see him.
. . . When he began to enter upon po
litical conversation, her Majesty said
that the equerries and Miss Goldsworthy
must be called to answer the Prince,
who, after being most severe, and
knocking his stick several times upon
the floor, while condemning the whole
of what had been done, bowed and re
tired without kissing the Queen' s hand
according to the usual custom. . . .
His Majesty used to inquire who
called, and on wishing to be told if
Lord North had ever been, was
answered in the affirmative. Then the
King said, " He might have recollected
me sooner. However, he, poor fellow,
has lost his sight, and I my mind. Yet
we meant well to the Americans ; just
to punish them with a few bloody noses,
and then to make bows for the mutual
happiness of the two countries. But
want of principle got into the army.
. . . We lost America. Tell him not
to call again ; I shall never see him."

5 . Extracts from the Auckland Corre
spondence. Lord Sheffield to Air. Eden.
Dec. 12, 1788.
. . . Dr. Willis, who seems now to
have the principal management of the
King, is a clergyman, and keeps a

278 George III. and his Heir Apparent

mad-house in Lincolnshire. He is
considered by some as not much better
than a mountebank, and not far differ
ent from some of those that are con
fined in his house. . . .
Pitt is playing the game without
temper or judgment ; and his declara
tion in Parliament the day before yes
terday, that the Prince of Wales had
no better right or claim to the Regency
than any other subject, gives as much
offence and alarm as Fox's assertion,
that he was of right entitled to it.
17th Dec.
. . . Pitt' s mountebank speeches suit
the nonsense of many, however they
may be execrated and disliked by
others.' . . . His plan is to maintain
the present household unalterable, and
to prevent the creation of peers.
The Archbishop of Canterbury to
Air. Eden.
. . . Since Dr. Willis of Lincoln
shire, has been called in, our hope has
been more firm and constant, and at
this moment stands very high. He
has had great experience in this malady
for eight and twenty years, and great
success. . . . The doctor says con
fidently that in such a case in common
life, he should promise himself a per
fect cure in a very short time — a few
weeks — that he does promise it himself
in this case, though aware that it has
difficulties in the way which common
cases have not. . . . Will the new
regent be soon named? I think yes.
Will he change the Government di
rectly? Will the country bear this?
Will the King's recovery be hazarded,
should he in the commencement of it
find great changes ? These are very
serious speculations on which I don't
venture to give an opinion. It is an
awful moment, my dear friend. May
it please God to conduct us safely
through it !

Lord Sheffield to Air. Eden.
Nov. 22, 1788.
. . . For obvious reasons it is the
policy of those attached to Administra
tion to represent the King' s state better
than it is. . . . There is a difference
of opinion as to his health, and one
part of the public believes his constitu
tion broken up, while another part
flatters itsself that the illness is the-
effect of fever. . . . Cabal flourishes.
The Prince gains much credit by his-
conduct at Windsor. The poor King's
illness is not melancholy or mischiev
ous ; at times it is rather gay. Yester
day se' ennight he talked incessantly for
sixteen hours, to divert him from which,.
they endeavoured to turn him to writ
ing : at last he began to compose notes
on Don Quixote. He fancies London
is drowned and orders his yacht to go-
there. He took Sir George Baker's
wig, flung it in his face, threw him on
his back, and told him he might star
gaze. Sir George is rather afraid of
him. In one of his soliloquies he said,
' ' I hate nobody, why should anybody
hate me ? ' ' recollecting a little he
added, " I beg pardon, I do hate the
Marquis of Buckingham." The Queen
has not seen the King since the first
clays of the disorder, except once,.
which produced an affecting scene.
He contrived to steal out of his room
in search of her, supposing she and his
children were stolen from him. She
lay in a near room. He got to her
bed-side, drew the curtain, and ex
claimed, " She is there," seemingly
satisfied. He was without difficulty
conducted to his apartment.
Sir fohn Eden to Air. Eden.
Dec. 11, 1788.
... I this day heard from a stranger
that symptoms of this disorder appeared
in 1782; if so, I should imagine occa
sioned by the American War. . . . We

v.H.

PITT,

George III. and his Heir Apparent 279

shall soon be in a complete ferment.
Mr. Fox yesterday advanced some doc
trine which Mr. Pitt construed little
short of treason. This brought on
acrimony from Fox, a rejoinder from
Pitt, and a severe speech from Burke,
who termed Pitt a competitor for the
Regency. The House of Lords are
this day on the same business, the report
of the physicians. Many people seem
to think the minister [Pitt] means to
have a committee of Regency, himself
the chief (King William the Fourth),
but I am not of this opinion ; however
he seems to have spoken so freely of
the Prince of Wales as to indicate a
design of retiring if the Prince becomes
Regent. Captain Sidney Smith, R. N., to
Mr. Eden. Dec. 30, 1788.
. . . The "opposition" physicians
about his' Majesty (and however odd it
may sound such there have been) say
everything they can to invalidate the
daily testimonies of the others, so
between both, the public are strangely
divided in doubts, hopes, and fears. . . .
The poor Queen is, as may be supposed,
worn to a skeleton. ... I shall . . .
take my leave of this subject by satisfy
ing a query that must arise in your
mind, viz. whether the Prince will take
the Regency; with restrictions it is
supposed he will, lest the Queen should,
as the Parliament, having established
their right and' overset the injudicious
claim made by his friends in favour of
his right, might and would offer it to
her Majesty, and she has no reason to
be delicate with regard to his Royal
Highness from his treatment of her.
The Archbishop of Canterbury to
Mr. Eden.
Jan 1 6th, 1789.
... It is a strange subject for party
to exist upon, and disgraceful to the

country that it should be so ; but so it
is, and many pronounce Warren a party
man in his accounts of a deep dye,
while Willis is supposed to delude
himself by his ambition to recover the
patient. Lord Shefiield to Air. Eden.
Jan 14, 1789.
. . . My last account of the King is
that he had had but five hours' sleep in
three nights and days, and that he has
been extremely furious. His pulse was
at 120 on Sunday night, when Pepys
ordered a draft, 'which Willis would
not give him. On Monday morning
his pulse was at 108 : in this situation
Willis had ordered the carriage to take
him out, because he promised him an
airing the day before, and he never
broke his promise ; however, Warren
and Pepys thought Willis's promise of
less consequence than the King's life,
and kept him at home.
Aliss Sayer to Madame Huber.
Jan. 29, 1789.
. . . What you will not see [in the
papers] is the strange supper of which
I am going to tell you, and which Lady
Mount Edgcumbe had from the Duchess
of Gordon herself, who, being entirely
for Mr. Pett, is vastly teased by the
princes, whom she never fails to answer
extremely well. A few days ago Mrs.
Richard Walpole gave a supper to the
two princes, Mrs. Fitzherbert [the heir
apparent' s wife. — Ed.], Colonel Ful-
larton . . . and a few others ; the
Duchess of Gordon the only Pittite.
The Prince says : " What a fine fellow
my brother York is ! he never forsakes
me. The other day, when we went to
look for the King's money, jewels, etc.,
at Kew, as we opened the drawers, my
mother looked very uneasy, and grew
angry. Says York to her, " Madam,
I believe you are as much deranged as

280 George III. and his Heir Apparent

the King." . . . The Duchess of Gor
don (for which you will like her though
a Scotchwoman) declared if they began
to abuse the Queen she would leave the
room. Extract from Lady Harcourt' s
Diary. (Massey's England, Vol. III.
p. 389.)
Jack Payne, the Prince's secietary
and confidential man, one day uttered
some ribaldry about the Queen in the
presence of the Duchess of Gordon :
"You little, insignificant, good-for-noth
ing, upstart, pert, chattering puppy,"
said her Grace, " how dare you name
your royal master's royal mother in
that style?"
Mr. Huber to Mr. Eden.
Feb. 3rd, 1789.
. . . The resolutions of the Com
mons of Wednesday the 28th are:
"That a committee be appointed to
communicate to H. R. H. the Prince
of Wales the resolutions which the
Houses of Lords and Commons have
agreed to for providing the means of
supplying the defect in the personal
exercise of the royal authority, under
such regulations as the present circum
stances may require. ..." The Prince
is highly offended at all these restric
tions sine qua non.

6. Diary of Madame d'Arblay.
Kew Palace, Feb. 2.
What an adventure had I this morn
ing ! one that has occasioned me the
severest personal terror I ever experi
enced in my life. . . .
I strolled into the gardens. I had
proceeded in my quick way, nearly half
the round, when I suddenly perceived,
through some trees, two or three fig
ures. Relying on the instructions of
Dr. John [Willis], I concluded them
to be workmen and gardeners ; yet

tried to look sharp, and in so doing, as
they were less shaded, I thought It was
the person of his Majesty.
Alarmed past all possible expression,
I waited not to know more, but turning
back, ran off with all my might. But
what was my terror to hear myself pur
sued ! — to hear the voice of the King
himself loudly and hoarsely calling after
me, "Miss Burney ! Miss Burney ! "
I protest I was ready to die. I knew
not in what state he might be at the
time ; I only knew the orders to keep
out of his way were universal. . . .
The steps still pursued me, and still
the poor hoarse and altered voice rang
in my ears : — more and more footsteps
resounded frightfully behind me, — the
attendants all running, to catch their
eager master, and the voices of the two
Dr. Willises loudly exhorting him not
to heat himself so unmercifully.
Heavens, how I ran ! I do not think
I should have felt the hot lava from
Vesuvius — at least not the hot cinders —
had I so run during its eruption. My
feet were not sensible that they even
touched the ground.
Soon after, I heard other voices,
shriller, though less nervous, call out
"Stop! stop! stop!" . . . I fairly be
lieve no one of the whole party could
have overtaken me, if these words,
from one of the attendants had hot
reached me, " Dr. Willis begs you to
stop!" " I cannot ! I cannot!" I answered,
still flying on, when he called out " You
must, ma'am ; it hurts the King to run."
Then, indeed, I stopped — in a state
of fear really amounting to agony. I
turned round, I saw the two Doctors
had got the King between them, and
three attendants of Dr. Willis's were
hovering about. . . .
When they were within a few yards
of me, the King called out " Why did
you run away ? "

George III. and his Heir Apparent 281

Shocked at a question impossible to
answer, yet a little assured by the mild
tone of his voice, I instantly forced my
self forward, to meet him„ though the
internal sensation which satisfied me
this was a step the most proper, to ap
pease his suspicions and displeasure,
was so violently combated by the tremor
of my nerves, that I fairly think I may
reckon it the greatest effort of personal
courage I have ever made.
The effort answered ; I looked, up,
and met all his wonted benignity of
countenance, though something still of
wildness in his eyes. Think, however,
of my surprise, to feel him put both his
hands round my two shoulders, and
then kiss my cheek !
I wonder I did not really sink, so
exquisite was my affright when I saw
him spread out his arms ! Involuntar
ily, I concluded he meant to crush me
[but enough of Miss Burney' s exagger
ated emotions. — Ed.]
The Archbishop of Canterbury
to Mr. Eden. Feb. 13, 1789.
... I saw Mr. Pitt while I was out ;
he was just come from Kew. and
brought from thence everything that
can encourage hope [of the King's re
covery]. Few opposition people were
at the House, and those few languid,
like men with whom hope deferred has
made the heartsick. Sheridan and Co.
may at all events urge to get possession
for the sake of rank, let the possession
be ever so short ; but it is too shocking
to suppose the Prince will submit to
this. Feb. 20.
. . . The Regency Bill was yester
day put off, and the House adjourned
till Tuesday, it being the opinion of all
lawyers- that in the King's present state
the great seal could not be put to a bill
to transfer the regal powers.

Madame Huber to Mrs. Eden.
Feb. 21.
. . . Even Dr. Warren said at Kew
the other day, that the amendment was
great : he [the King] has written sev
eral letters to London, and has settled
some accounts with perfect recollection
and coolness, and is constantly serene,
cheerful and composed. Mr. Burke is
almost mad, and will be quite so, no
doubt, if the King recovers, though he
has already renounced his intention of
disputing that point, whenever it is as
serted. "They may (says he) bring
back a King subdued and quieted by
coercion." Being called to order, he
complained of interruption. Mr. Pitt
answered him most completely with
such cold contempt, informing him that
he never wished to do away with the
impression his speeches made on the
house. After this great violence in the
House of Commons, Mr. Burke found
wrote with chalk the next morning,
" Very irritable in the evening, no sleep
all night, and very unquiet this morn
ing." The Prince, being very drunk
the other night, promised a regiment
to Captain Macdonald, who has not the
smallest pretentions to one ; but he
keeps him to his promise. A person
who saw the King says, though thin,
he is not so thin as he has been, looks
fresh and healthy, and much handsomer
from not being so weatherbeaten.
Somebody, a few days ago, attempted
to talk politics to him, but he said,
"None yet; my head is not strong
enough for that subject."
All the ladies may burn their Regency
caps, of which, no doubt, you have an
account. . . . The cheapest . . . costs
seven guineas. . . .
Some better news of our excellent
King ; there seems now to be no doubt
of his perfect recovery. ... I would
give a great deal to be witness of the
joy in England on this happy event.

282 George III. and his Heir Apparent

The Queen surely will think there can
never be enough done for Dr. Willis,
and I hope he will experience the grat
itude of a generous nation in its most
powerful esteem.
Lord Hawkesbury to Earl
Cornwallis. Jan. 6, 1789.
. . . The personal exercise of the
Royal Authority is at an end. To
supply this the Prince is to be appointed
Regent, under such restrictions as do
not allow him to do anything which
the King will not be able to undo, if
he should ever be able to resume his
government ; and the Queen is to have
the care of the King's person and the
management of his household. These
questions we are warmly to discuss in
the two Houses in the course of the
next ten days. The Queen supports
the King' s Ministers and servants ; and
the Prince and the Duke of York cleave
to Opposition ; and as soon as the
Regency is formed, we shall certainly
be all dismissed, and the system of the
Government will be changed.
Lord Sydney to Earl Cornwallis.
Feb. 21, 17S9.
. . . The Chancellor was yesterday
with H. M., and for the first time
talked to him upon business, and
opened to him, in part, the measures
which had been taken during his con
finement. I understand that H. M.
was by no means the worse for this
conversation. Dr. Willis, who attends
him, says that, were he a private man,
he should advise his following now his
his usual occupation. . . . But, God
knows, H. M. will have a severe trial
when he is informed of all that has
passed during the unhappy interval.
Every possible care will no doubt be
taken to prepare him. You will hear
from other hands, probably, that the

P. of W. has got complete possession
of the D. of Y., and they had medi*
tated such changes in the state and in
the army as would have grieved him
exceedingly. No scruple has been
made of declaring that a general swoop
of all places would be made, if the
Regency were to last only a day. . . .
Our own domestic scene has been an
interesting one. We have seen no
times when it has been so necessary to-
separate parties in private company.
The acrimony is beyond anything you
can conceive. The ladies are as usual
at the head of all animosity, and are
distinguished by caps, ribands, and
other such ensigns of party. They
have driven old Queensbury out of
England by calling him a Rat for
deserting his master to hobble after a
young Prince. ... I will not dwell
upon this filthy subject even to state
the filthiest conduct of North, who is
led down to the House to act under
Sheridan to joke upon the King's mis
fortunes. Thank God, the country in
all parts and both houses of Parliament
have nobly stood by the King. More
affection and concern could not have
been shown, and H. M. will have the
satisfaction of finding how much he
is personally beloved. Mr- Pht has
conducted himself with the greatest
judgment and ability — Fox has been
dangerously ill.

7. Extracts from Mrs. Harcourt' s
Diary. (In Fitzgerald, Life of George
IV. London, 1881, Vol. I. p. 177.)
Feb 22.
Lady C. Finch said the King showed
the greatest affection to the Queen. It
was the attention of a lover. He
seemed to delight in making her pres
ents — kissed her hand and showed
every mark of tenderness. I was just
with Lady C. when Genl. H. came to

George III. and his Heir Apparent 283

fetch me to Mr. Smelt's house saying
the King was waiting to see me. I
flew up stairs where I found the King
and before I could speak he caught me
in his arms and kissed me, which I
own I did him on both sides of his face,
telling him how happy I was and how
I thanked God for this blessing of see
ing him well. . . . He looked very
thin but was in excellent spirits, mak
ing his usual jokes and looked full of
kindness and benevolence. Genl. H.
removed from the K's mind a preju
dice as to the Queen's leaving him at
Windsor before he was removed to
Kew by fully explaining the plan hav
ing been so arranged by the physician
and the King declared himself highly
pleased and satisfied. The King and
Queen afterwards came together to see
me. She was dreadfully reduced and
shewed me her stays, which would
wrap twice over. . . .
Mr. Storer to Air. Eden.
Apr. 21, 17S9.
. . . We have something new for the
day, and that is, a ball given by the
club of Brooke's, on account of his
Majesty's recovery. The tickets are at
three guineas and a half each. . . . The
club of White's has already given a
ball ; and, as the ladies in opposition
would not honour the Pantheon with
their appearance, so (it is said) the
ladies who support Government will
not deign to attend to-night the ball at
the Opera-house. [The Prince of Wales
bought tickets for this ball, but after

wards offered them at public sale.—
Ed.] 8. Letter of Miss Burney (Madame
d'Arblay) to her Father.
His Majesty is in delightful health
and much improved spirits. All agree
he never looked better. The loyalty of
this place [Weymouth] is excessive;
they have dressed out every street with
labels of "God save the King;" all
the shops have it over their doors ; all
the children wear it in their caps, all
the labourers in their hats, and all the
sailors in their voices, for they never
approach the house without shouting it
aloud, nor see the King, or his shadow,
without beginning to huzza, and going
on to three cheers.
The bathing machines make it their
motto over all their windows ; and
those bathers that belong to the Royal
dippers wear it in bandeaux on their
bonnets, to go into the sea ; and have
it again in large letters round their
waists, to encounter the waves. Flan
nel dresses tucked up, and no shoes nor
stockings, with bandeaux and girdles,
have a most singular appearance, and
when first I surveyed these loyal nymphs
it was with some difficulty I kept my
features in order.
Nor is this all. Think but of the
surprise of his Majesty, when, the first
time of his bathing, he had no sooner
popped his Royal head under water
than a band of music, concealed in a
neighbouring machine, struck up " God
save Great George our King."

284

The Death of Nelson

GROUP XXX.

THE DEATH OF NELSON.

1. Letter of Nelson to Alexander
Davison. (Quoted in Barrow's Auto
biography. London, 1847, P- 279-)
Victory, 24th July, 1805.
I am as miserable as you can con
ceive. But for General Brereton's d — d
information [that the French fleet had
gone to the West Indies. — Ed.], Nelson
would have been, living or dead, the
greatest man in his profession that Eng
land ever saw. Now, alas ! I am
nothing — perhaps, shall incur censure
for misfortunes which may happen and
have happened. When I follow my
own head I am, in general, much more
correct in my judgment than following
the opinions of others. I resisted the
opinion of General Brereton's informa
tion — it would have been the height of
presumption to have carried my belief
further. 2. Extracts from Barrow.
In the autumn of 1805 Lord Nelson
arrived in England, and, being much
out of health, retired to a small place
he had at Merton, where he remained
in quiet in the midst of a pretty garden
and in the society of his sister and Lady
Hamilton. But the enjoyment he
otherwise would have had is said to
have been constantly interrupted by
conjectures of what the enemy's fleet
consisted, what he was projecting, and
what was the force and disposition of
his own fleet to meet it. While he was
thus tormenting himself in matters of
this kind, and in calling to mind the
hope he had expressed to Admiral
Collingwood, of rejoining him in the
month of October, Captain Blackwood
arrived with dispatches, announcing
that the combined fleets of France and
Spain had got into Cadiz. This intel
ligence admitted of no hesitation or

delay— Nelson was himself again. He
set off immediately for the Admiralty;
told Lord Barham he was on his way
to rejoin his fleet the moment the
"Victory" was ready at Spithead,
where a squadron was prepared as a
reinforcement ; and in three days he
was again in town oil his way to Ports
mouth. He had been with me at the Admir
alty in the morning, anxiously inquir
ing and expressing his hopes about a
code of signals just then improved and
enlarged. I assured him they were all
but ready ; that he should not be dis
appointed, and that I would take care
they should be at Portsmouth the fol
lowing morning. On his way, in the
evening, he looked in upon me at the
Admiralty, where I was stopping to see
them off. I pledged myself not to
leave the office till a messenger was
dispatched with the signals, should the
post have departed, and that he might
rely on their being at Portsmouth the
following morning. On this he shook
hands with me ; I wished him all hap
piness and success, which I was sure he
would command as he had always
done ; and he departed apparently more
than usually cheerful. . . .

3. Extracts from Nelson's Diary and
Letters. (Quoted from Barrow.) 13 Sept.
At half-past ten drove from dear,
clear Merton, where I left all which I
hold dear in this world, to go to serve
my king and country. May the great
God whom I adore enable me to fulfil
the expectations of my country ; and if
it is His good pleasure that I should
return, my thanks will never cease
being offered up to the throne of His
mercy. If it is His good providence to

NELSON. 1799 A. D.

The Death of Nelson

285

cut short my days upon earth, I bow
with the greatest submission, relying
that he will protect those so dear to me
that 1 may leave behind. His will be
done. Amen. Amen. Oct. 1.
(Letter.) I believe my arrival was
most welcome, not only to the com
mander of the fleet, but also to every
individual in it : and when I came to
explain to them the Nelson touch, it
was like an electric shock : some shed
tears — all approved. " It was new —
it was singular — it was simple ; ' ' and
from admirals downwards it was re
peated. " It must succeed if ever they
will allow us to get at them. You
are, my Lord, surrounded by friends
whom you inspire with confidence." Oct. 21st.
(Diary.) May the great God, whom
I worship, grant to my country, and
for the benefit of Europe in general, a
great and glorious victory ; and may
no misconduct in any one tarnish it ;
and may humanity after victory be the
predominant feature in the British fleet.
For myself, individually, I commit my
life to Him who made me, and may
his blessing light upon my endeavours
for serving my country faithfully. To
Him I resign myself, and the just cause
which is entrusted to me to defend.
Barrow.
Never can I forget the shock I re
ceived, on opening the Board-room
door, the morning after the arrival of
the dispatches, when Marsden called
out — ' ' Glorious news ! The most glori
ous victory our brave navy ever achieved
— but Nelson is dead!" The vivid
recollection of my interview with this
incomparable man. and the idea that I
was probably the last person he had
taken leave of in London, left an im
pression of gloom on my mind that
required some time to remove.

4. Account of W. Beatty, the Sur
geon of the " Victory."
. . . Captain Blackwood, of the
Euryalus, remained on board the
Victory till a few minutes before the
Enemy began to fire upon her. He
represented to his Lordship that his
Flagship would be singled out and
much pressed by the Enemy ; and sug
gested the propriety therefore of per
mitting one or two Ships of his Line
to go ahead of the Victory, and lead
her into action, which might be the
means of drawing in some measure the
Enemy's attention from her.
To this Lord Nelson assented and at
half past nine o'clock he ordered the
Temeraire and Leviathan by signal
(the former of which ships, being close
to the Victory, was hailed by his Lord
ship) to go ahead for that purpose; but
from the light breeze that prevailed
they were unable, notwithstanding their
utmost efforts, to attain their intended
stations. . . .
About half an hour before the Enemy
opened their fire, the memorable tele
graphic signal was made, that " Eng
land EXPECTS EVERY MAN WILL DO
His duty," which was spread and
received throughout the Fleet with en
thusiasm. It is impossible adequately
to describe by any language the lively
emotions excited in the crew of the
Victory when this propitious commu
nication was made known to them : con
fidence and resolution were strongly
pourtrayed in the countenance of all ;
and the sentiment generally expressed
to each other was, that they would
prove to their Country that day, how
well British Seamen could "do their
duty" when led to battle by their
revered Admiral. . . .
At fifty minutes past eleven, the
Enemy opened their fire on the Com
mander in Chief. They shewed great
coolness in the commencement of the

286

The Death of Nelson

Battle ; for as the Victory approached
their Line, their ships lying immediately
ahead of her and across her bows fired
only one gun at a time, to ascertain
whether she was yet within their range.
This was frequently repeated by eight
or nine of their ships, till at length a
shot passed through the Victory' s main
top-gallant sail : the hole in which
being discovered by the Enemy, they
immediately opened their broadsides,
supporting an awful and tremendous
fire. Lord Nelson and Captain Hardy
walked the quarter deck in conversation
for some time after this, while the
Enemy kept up an incessant raking
fire. A double-headed shot struck one of
the parties of Marines drawn up on the
poop, and killed eight of them ; when
his Lordship, perceiving this, ordered
Captain Adair to disperse his men
round the ship, that they might not suf
fer so much from being together.
In a few minutes afterwards a shot
struck the fore brace bits on the quar
ter deck, and passed between Lord
Nelson and Captain Hardy ; a splinter
from the bits bruising Captain Hardy' s
foot, and tearing the buckle from his
shoe. They both instantly stopped ;
and were observed by the Officers on
deck to survey each other with inquir
ing looks, each supposing the other to
be wounded. His Lordshipthen smiled,
and said : " This is too warm work,
Hardy, to last long;" and declared
that "through all the Battles he had
been in, he had never witnessed more
cool courage than was displayed by the
Victory' s crew on this occasion."
The Victory by this time, having
approached close to the Enemy's Van,
had suffered very severely without fir
ing a single gun : she had lost about
twenty men killed, and had about
thirty wounded. Her mizzen topmast,

and all her studding sails and their
booms, on both sides were shot away ;
the Enemy's fire being chiefly directed
at her rigging, with a view to disable
her before she could close with them.
At four minutes past twelve o'clock,
she opened her fire, from both sides of
her decks, upon the Enemy ; when
Captain Hardy represented to his Lord
ship, that "it appeared impracticable
to pass through the Enemy's Line with
out going on board some one of their
ships." Lord Nelson answered, "I cannot
help it : it does not signify which we
run on board of ; go on board which
you please; take your choice."
At twenty minutes past twelve, the
tiller ropes being shot away : Mr. At
kinson, the Master, was ordered below
to get the helm put to port ; which be
ing done, the Victory was soon run on
board the Redoubtable of seventy four
guns. On coming alongside and nearly on
board of her, that ship fired her broad
side into the Victory, and immediately
let down her lower deck ports ; which,
as has been since learnt, was done to
prevent her from being boarded through
them by the Victory' s crew . She never
fired a great gun after this single broad
side. A few minutes after this, the Tem-
eraire fell likewise on board of the
Redoubtable, on the side opposite to
the Victory; having also an Enemy's
ship, said to be La Fougueuse, on
board of her on her other side : so that
the extraordinary and unprecedented
circumstance occurred here, of four
Ships of the Line being on board of
each other in the heat of battle ; form
ing as compact a tier as if they had
been moored together, their heads lying
all the same way. The Temeraire, as
was just before mentioned, was between
the Redoubtable and La Fougueuse.

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The Death of Nelson

287

The Redoubtable commenced a heavy
,fire of musketry from the tops, which
was continued for a considerable time
with destructive effect to the Victory' s
crew : her great guns however being
silent, it was supposed at different
times that she had surrendered ; and in
consequence of this opinion, the Vic-
dory twice ceased firing upon her by
Orders transmitted from the quarter
deck. At thjs period, scarcely a person in
the Victory escaped unhurt who was
.exposed to the Enemy's musketry; but
there were frequent huzzas and cheers
heard from between the decks, in token
,of the surrender of different of the
Enemy's ships. An incessant fire was
kept up from both sides of the Victory :
-her larboard guns played upon the
tSantissima Trinidada and the Bucen-
laur ; and the starboard guns of the
middle and lower decks were depressed
and fired with a diminished charge of
powder, and three shot each, into the
.Redoubtable. .This mode of firing was
adopted by Lieutenants Williams, King,
Yule, and Brown, to obviate the danger
¦ofthe Terneraire' s suffering from the
Victory' s shot passing through the Re
doubtable; which must have been the
case if the usual quantity of powder,
and the common elevation, had been
given to the guns. .
A circumstance occurred in this sit
uation which showed iri a most striking
manner the cool intrepidity of the Offi
cers and men stationed on the lower
deck of the Victory. When the guns
on this deck were run out, their
muzzles came into contact with the
Redoubtable' s side; and consequently
at every discharge there was reason to
iear that the enemy would take fire, and
both the Victory and the Terneraire
be involved in her flames. Here then
was seen the astonishing spectacle of
the Fireman of each gun standing ready

with a bucket full of water, which as
soon as his gun was discharged he
dashed into the Enemy through the
holes made in her side by the shot.
It was from this ship (the Redoubt
able) that Lord Nelson received his
mortal wound. About fifteen minutes
past one o'clock, which was in the heat
of the engagement, he was walking the
middle of the quarter deck with Captain
Hardy, and in the act of turning near
the hatchway with his face towards the
stern of the Victory, when the fatal
ball was fired from the Enemy's mizzen
top ; which, from the situation of the
two ships (lying on board of each
other), was brought just abaft, and
rather below, the Victory' s main yard,
and of course not more than fifteen
yards distant from that part of the deck
where his Lordship stood. The ball
struck the epaulette on his left shoulder,
and penetrated his chest. He fell with
his face on the deck. Captain Hardy,
who was. on his right (the side furthest
from the Enemy) and had advanced
some steps before his Lordship, on
turning round, saw the Serjeant Major
(Seeker) of Marines with two Seamen
raising him from the deck ; where he
had fallen on the same spot on which a
little before, his Secretary had- breathed .
his last, with whose blood his Lord
ship's clothes were much soiled.
Captain Hardy expressed a hope that
he "was not severely wounded ; to which
the gallant Chief replied : " They have
done for me at last, Hardy."
"I hope not," answered Captain
Hardy. " Yes,", replied his Lordship ; " my
backbone is shot through."
Captain Hardy ordered the Seamen
to carry the Admiral to the Cockpit ;
and now two incidents occurred strik
ingly characteristic of this great man,
and strongly marking that energy and
reflection which in his heroic mind rose

288

The Death of Nelson

superior even to the immediate consid
eration of his present awful condition.
While the men were carrying him down
the ladder from the middle deck, his
Lordship observed that the tiller ropes
were not yet replaced ; and desirfed one
of the Midshipmen stationed there to go
upon the quarter deck and remind Cap
tain Hardy of that circumstance, and
request that new ones should be im
mediately rove. Having delivered this
Order, he took his handkerchief from
his pocket and covered his face with
it, that he might be conveyed to the
Cockpit at this crisis unnoticed by the
crew. . . .
His Lordship was laid upon a bed,
stripped of his clothes, and covered
with a sheet. While this was effecting,
he said to Dr. Scott, " Doctor, I told
you so. Doctor, I am gone;" and
after a short pause he added in a low
voice, " I have to leave Lady Hamilton,
and my adopted daughter Horatia, as a
legacy to my Country." . . .
The true nature of his wound was
concealed by the Surgeon from all on
board except only Captain Hardy,
Dr. Scott, Mr. Burke, and Messrs.
Smith and Westemburg the Assistant
Surgeons. The Victory's crew cheered when
ever they observed an Enemy's ship
surrender. On one of these occasions,
Lord Nelson anxiously inquired what
was the cause of it ; when Lieutenant
Pasco, who lay wounded at some dis
tance from his Lordship, raised him
self up, and told him that another ship
had struck, which appeared to give
him much satisfaction. . . .
He evinced great solicitude for the
event of the Battle, and fears for the
safety of his friend Captain Hardy.
Dr. Scott and Mr. Burke used every
argument they could suggest, to relieve
his anxiety.
Mr. Burke told him " the Enemy

were decisively defeated, and that he
hoped his Lordship would still live to-
be himself the bearer of the joyful
tidings to his Country."
He replied, "it is nonsense, Mr.
Burke, to suppose I can live : my suffer
ings are great, but they will all be soon
over." Dr. Scott entreated his Lordship
"not to despair of living," and said
"he trusted that Divine Providence
would restore him once more to his
dear Country and friends."
"Ah, Doctor!" replied his Lord
ship, "it is all over ; it is all over ! "
Many messages were sent to Captain.
Hardy by the Surgeon, requesting his
attendance on his Lordship ; who be
came impatient to see him, and often
exclaimed : " Will no one bring Hardy
to me? He must be killed: he is-
surely destroyed."
The Captain's Aide-de-Cam • Mr.
Bulkley, now came below, and stated
that " circumstances respecting the
Fleet required Captain Hardy's pres
ence on deck ; but that he would avail
himself of the first favourable moment
to visit his Lordship." . . .
An hour and ten minutes, however,.
elapsed from the time of his Lordship' s-
being wounded before Captain Hardy's
first subsequent interview with him ;
the particulars of which are nearly as
follow. They shook handsv affectionately, and
Lord Nelson said : " Well, Hardy, how
goes the Battle? How goes the day
with us?"
"Very well, my Lord," replied
Captain Hardy : ' ' we have got twelve
or fourteen of the Enemy' s ships in our
possession ; but five of their Van have
tacked, and shew an intention of bear
ing down upon the Victory. I have-
therefore called two or three of our
fresh ships around us, and have no-
doubt of giving them a drubbing."

The Death of Nelson

289

" I hope," said his Lordship, " none
of our ships have struck, Hardy."
" No, my Lord," replied Captain
Hardy ; "there is no fear of that."
Lord Nelson then said : " I am a
dead man, Hardy. I am going fast ;
it will be all over with me soon. Come
nearer to me. Pray let my dear Lady
Hamilton have my hair, and all other
things belonging to me." Mr. Burke
was about to withdraw at the com
mencement of this conversation ; but
his Lordship, perceiving his intention,
desired he would remain.
Captain Hardy observed, that "he
hoped Mr. Beatty could yet hold out
some prospect of life."
"Oh! no," answered his Lordship;
" it is impossible. My back is shot
through. Beatty will tell you so."
Captain Hardy then returned on
deck, and at parting shook hands again
with his revered friend and Com
mander. His Lordship now requested the Sur
geon, who had previously been absent
a short time attending Mr. Rivers, to
return to the wounded ; and give his
assistance to such of them as he could
be useful to; "for," said he, "you
can do nothing for me!" The Sur
geon assured him that the Assistant
Surgeons were doing everything that
could be effected for those unfortunate
men ; but on his Lordship' s several
times repeating his injunctions to that
purpose, he left him surrounded by
Dr. Scott, Mr. Burke, and two of his
Lordship's domestics. . . .
He often exclaimed, "God be
prai$ed, I have done my duty," and
upon the Surgeon's enquiry whether
his pain was very great, he declared,
" it continued so very severe, that he
wished he was dead. Yet," said he in
a lower voice, " one would like to live
a little longer, too" : and after a pause
of a few minutes, he added in the same

tone, " What would become of poor
Lady Hamilton, if she knew my situa
tion?" . . .
Captain Hardy now came to the
Cockpit to see his Lordship a second
time, which was after an interval of
about fifty minutes from the conclusion
of the first visit. Before he quitted the
deck he sent Lieutenant Hills to ac
quaint Admiral Collingwood with the
lamentable circumstance of Lord Nel
son's being wounded.
Lord Nelson and Captain Hardy
shook hands again : and while the
Captain retained his Lordship's hand,
he congratulated him even in the arms
of Death on his brilliant victory ;
"which," he said, "was complete;
though he did not know how many of
the Enemy were captured, as it was
impossible to perceive every ship dis
tinctly. He was certain however of
fourteen or fifteen having surrendered."
His Lordship answered, "That is
well, but I bargained for twenty" :
and then emphatically exclaimed,
'•'•Anchor, Hardy, anchor!"
To this the Captain replied : "I sup
pose, my Lord, Admiral Collingwood
will now take upon himself the direc
tion of affairs."
" Not while I live, I hope, Hardy ! "
cried the dying Chief ; and at that mo
ment endeavoured ineffectually to raise
himself from the bed.
"No," added he ; " do you anchor,
Hardy." Captain Hardy then said : " Shall we
make the signal, Sir? "
"Yes," answered his Lordship;
"for if I live, I'll anchor."
The energetic manner in which he
uttered these his last Orders to Captain
Hardy, accompanied with his efforts to
raise himself, evinced his determination
never to resign the command while he
retained the exercise of his transcendant
faculties, and that he expected Captain

290

The Death of Nelson

Hardy still to carry into effect the sug
gestions of his exalted mind ; a sense of
his duty overcoming the pains of death.
He then told Captain Hardy, " he
felt that in a few minutes he should be
no more;" adding in a low tone,
" Don't throw me overboard, Hardy."
The Captain answered, " Oh ! no,
certainly not."
" Then," replied his Lordship, " you
know what to do : and" continued he,
" take care of my dear Lady Hamilton ;
take care of poor Lady Hamilton.
Kiss me, Hardy."
The Captain now knelt down, and
kissed his cheek ; when his Lordship
said, "Now I am satisfied. Thank
God, I have done my duty." . . .
His Lordship became speechless in
about fifteen minutes after Captain
Hardy left him. Dr. Scott and Mr.
Burke, who had all along sustained the
bed under his shoulders (which raised
him in nearly a semirecumbent posture,
the only one that was supportable to
him), forbore to disturb him by speak
ing to him ; ' and when he had remained
speechless about five minutes, his Lord
ship's Steward went to the Surgeon,
who had been a short time occupied
with the wounded in another part of
the Cockpit, and stated his apprehen
sions that his Lordship was dying.
The Surgeon immediately repaired
to him, and found him on the verge of
dissolution. He knelt down by his
side, and took up his hand ; which was
cold and the pulse gone from the wrist.
On the Surgeon's feeling his fore
head, which was likewise cold, his
Lordship opened his eyes, looked up,
and shut them again.

The Surgeon again left him, and re
turned to the wounded who required
his assistance ; but was not absent five
minutes before the Steward announced
to him that " he believed his Lordship
had expired." The Surgeon retired,
and found that the report was but too
well founded : his Lordship had breathed
his last, at thirty minutes past four
o'clock ; at which period Dr. Scott was
in the act of rubbing his Lordship's
breast, and Mr. Burke supporting the
bed under his shoulders.

5. Letter from Captain Pascoe, flag
lieutenant on board the Victory. Writ
ten thirty-five years after the battle.
(In Memoir of Codrington. London,
Longmans, 1873.)
His lordship came to me on the poop,
and after ordering certain signals to be
made, about a quarter to noon he said :
" Mr. Pascoe, I wish to say to the fleet,
' England confides that every man will
do his duty'" — and he added, "You
must be quick, for I have one more to
make, which is for close action." I
replied, "If your lordship will permit
me to substitute the word ' expects ' for
' confides ' the signal will sooner be
completed, because the word ' expects'
is in the vocabulary, but the word
'confides' must be spelt." His lord
ship replied in haste, and with seeming
satisfaction, "That will do Pascoe;
make it directly." When it had been
answered by a few ships in the van, he
ordered me to make the signal for close
action, and to keep it up : accordingly
I hoisted No. 16 atthe top-gallant mast
head, and there it remained until shot
away.

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The Battle of Waterloo

291

GROUP XXXI.
THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

1. Letter from the Duke of Welling
ton to Sir Charles Flint. (In Booth's
Battle of Waterloo, 3rd Edition. Lon
don, 1817, Vol. I. p. 95.)
Would you credit it, Napoleon over
thrown by the gallantry of a British
army ! — But I am quite heart-broken by
the loss I have sustained ; my friends,
my poor soldiers — how many of them
have I to regret ! — I shall follow up
this tide of success, and I shall not be
satisfied even with this victory, if it be
not followed by the total overthrow of
Buonaparte. — June 18th.

2. Letter from Blucher to his wife
immediately after the battle. (In
Booth's Battle of Waterloo. London,
1817, Vol. I. p. 96.)
My dear Wife : You well remember
what I promised you, and I have kept
my word. The Enemy's superiority of
numbers obliged me to give way on the
17th, but on the 18th, in conjunction
with my friend Wellington, I put an
end at once to Buonaparte's dancing.
His army is completely routed, and the
whole of his artillery, baggage,
caissons, and equipages, are in my
hands ; the insignia of all the various
orders he had worn, are just brought
me, having been found in his carriage,
in a casket. I had two horses killed
under me yesterday. It will soon be
all over with Buonaparte.
Blucher.
"P. S. (Written by the Prince's son,
on the road to Genappe.) Father
Blucher embraced Wellington in such
a hearty manner, that every body who
were present, said it was the most
affecting scene that could be imagined."

3. Letter of Blucher to his wife.
(From Colomb: Blucher in Briefen
aus den Feldziigen 1813-15. Stuttgart,
1876, p. 151.) Gosselies, June 25, 1815.
I have pretty well recovered from my
fall, but again one of my horses has
been wounded. I do not expect that
there will be any more fighting of con
sequence here in the near future, per
haps none at all ; our victory is the
most complete that has ever been
gained. Napoleon disappeared in the
night without hat or sword ; I am send
ing his hat and sword to the King to
day. His splendid robe of state and
his carriage are in my hands ; I possess
also the field-glass through which he
watched us on the day of the battle. I
will send you the carriage ; it is only a
pity that it has been injured. His
jewels and all his valuables have be
come the booty of our troops ; nothing
is left of his equipment at all and many
a soldier is five or six thousand thalers
the richer. He was in his carriage on
his way back when he was surprised
by our troops. He sprang out, threw
himself on his horse without his sword,
his hat at the same time falling off, and
thus apparently favored by the night
made his escape — whither, Heaven only
knows. To-day I push on into France
with the greater part of the army. The
results of this victory are incalculable
and according to my judgment must
include Napoleon's ruin; the French
nation must and will despise him. Then
I hope peace will ensue and, with
God's help, before the winter I will be
with you again. Your brother is per
fectly well and fought as an excellent
officer with his new regiment on the
day of the battle. All my suite aie

292

The Battle of Waterloo

sound and well and I am looking eager
ly for news from you.
I am trembling so that I can not
write much myself — nor have I any
time. Farewell and continue to love
Your dearest friend.

4. Extract of a Letter from an officer
of the Guards. (In Booth's Battle of
Waterloo. London, 1817, Vol. I. p.
61 ff.)
Village of Gommignies, June 22, 1815.
. . . The 2nd and 3d battalions of
the first regiment were formed with the
two battalions of Brunswickers into
hollow squares, on the slope and sum
mit of the hill, so as to support each
other ; and in this situation we all lay
down, till between three and four
o'clock P. M., in order to avoid the
storm of death, which was flying close
over our heads, and at almost every
moment carrying destruction among
us : and it is, you will allow, a circum
stance highly creditable to those men,
to have lain so many hours under a fire,
which for intensity and precision was
never, I believe, equalled ; with nothing
else to occupy their attention, save
watching their companions falling
around them, and listening to their
mournful cries. It was about the time
I have just named, that the Enemy,
having gained the orchard, commenced
their desperate charges of cavalry, un
der cover of the smoke, which the burn
ing houses, etc, had caused ; the whole
of which the wind drifted towards us,
and thus prevented our observing their
approach. At this period the battle
assumed a character beyond descrip
tion interesting, and anxiously awful.
Buonapartd was about to use against us
an arm, which he had never yet wielded
but with success. Confidently relying
upon the issue of this attack, he
charged our artillery and infantry, hop
ing to capture the one, and break the

other, and, by instantly establishing
his own infantry on the heights, to carry
the Brussels road, and throw our line
into confusion. These cavalry, selected
for their tried gallantry and skill (not
their height or mustachios) , who were
the terror of Northern Europe, and had
never yet been foiled, were first brought
up by the 3rd battalion of the ist regi
ment. Never was British valour and
discipline so pre-eminent as on this
occasion ; the steady appearance of this
battalion caused the famous Cuirassiers
to pull up ; and a few of them, with
the courage worthy of a better cause,
rode out of the ranks, and fired at our
people and mounted officers, with their
pistols, hoping to make the face of the
square throw its fire upon them, and
thus become an easy prey : but our
men, with a steadiness no language
could do justice to, defied their efforts,
and did not pull a single trigger. The
French then made a sudden rush, but
were received in such a manner, and
with a volley so well directed, as at
once to turn them ; they then made an
attempt on the 2nd battalion, and the
Brunswickers, with similar success. .
Buonaparr.6 renewed his cannonade,
which was destructive to a degree, pre
paratory to an attack of his whole
infantry. I constantly saw the noble
Duke of Wellington riding backwards
and forwards like the Genius of the
storm, who, borne upon his wings,
directed its thunder where to burst.
He was everywhere to be found,
encouraging, directing, animating. He
was in a blue short cloak, and a plain
cocked hat, his telescope in his hand;
there was nothing that escaped him,
nothing that he did not take advantage
of, and his lynx's eyes seemed to pene
trate the smoke, and forestall the move
ments of the foe. How he escaped,
that merciful Power alone can tell,
who vouchsafed to the allied arms the

The Battle of Waterloo

293

issue of this pre-eminent contest ; for
such it is, whether considered as an
action by itself, or with regard to the
results which it had brought about.
Upon the cavalry being repulsed, the
Duke himself ordered our second bat
talion to form line with the third bat
talion, and, after advancing to the brow
of the hill, to lie down and shelter our
selves from the fire. Here we remained,
I imagine near an hour. It was now
about seven o'clock. The French
infantry had in vain been brought up
against our line, and, as a last resource,
Buonaparte resolved upon attacking
our part of the position with his veteran
Imperial Guard, promising them the
plunder of Brussels. Their artillery
covered them, and they advanced in
solid column to where we lay. The
Duke, who was riding behind us,
watched their approach, and at length,
when within a hundred yards of us,
exclaimed, "Up, Guards, and at them,
again!" Never was there a prouder
moment than this for our country and
ourselves. The household troops of
both nations were now, for the first
time, brought in contact, and on the
issue of their struggle the greatest of
stakes was placed. The Enemy did
not expect to meet us so soon ; we suf
fered them to approach still nearer, and
then delivered a fire into them, which
made them halt ; a second, like the
first, carried hundreds of deaths into
their mass ; and, without suffering them
to deploy, we gave them three British
cheers, and a British charge of the bay
onet. This was too much for their
nerves, and they fled in disorder. The
shape of their colurhn was tracked by
their dying and dead, and not less than
three hundred of them had fallen in two
minutes to rise no more. Seeing the
fate of their companions, a regiment of
tirailleurs of the Guard attempted to
attack our flank ; we instantly charged

them, and our cheers rendered any
thing further unnecessary, for they
never awaited our approach. The
French now formed solid squares in
their rear, to resist our advance, which,
however, our cavalry cut to pieces.
The Duke now ordered the whole line
to move forward ; nothing could be
more beautiful. The sun, which had
hitherto been veiled, at this instant shed
upon us in departing rays, as if to smile
upon the efforts we were making, and
bless them with success. As we pro
ceeded in line down the slope, the reg
iments on the high ground on our
flanks were formed into hollow squares,
in which manner they accompanied us,
in order to protect us from cavalry — the
blow was now struck, the victory was
complete, and the Enemy fled in every
direction : his deroute was the most
perfect ever known, in the space of a
mile and a half along the road, we
found more than thirty guns, besides
ammunition wagons, etc., etc. Our
noble and brave coadjutors, the Prus
sians, who had some time since been
dealing out havock in the rear of the
Enemy, now falling in with our line of
march, we halted, and let them continue
the pursuit. Buonaparte fled the field
on the advance of the Prussians, and
the annihilation of his Imperial Guard,
with whose overthrow all his hopes
perished. Thus ended the day of
" Waterloo." The skill and courage
of our artillery could not be exceeded.
The brigade of Guards, in Hougoumont,
suffered nothing to rob them of their
post : every regiment eclipsed its former
deeds by the glories of to-day ; and I
cannot better close this than by inform
ing you, that when we halted for the
night, which we did close to where
Buonaparte had been during a great
portion of the battle, and were pre
paring our bivouac by the road side, a
regiment of Prussian lancers coming

294

The Battle of Waterloo

by, halted, and played "God save the
King," than which nothing could be
more appropriate or grateful to our
feelings ; and I am sure I need scarcely
add, that we gave them three heartfelt
cheers, as the only return we could
then offer."

to illuminate ruinously on this occa
sion. We have done nothing like it
since Blenheim, and the consequences
are likely to be far more important.
Ever your affectionate brother
W. M. Gomm.

5. Letters of a young officer to his
sister. (From Letters and Journals of
Sir W. M. Gomm. London, Murray,
1881, p. 349.) Brussels, June 13th, 1815.
Since I last wrote to you I have been
attached to the 5th division (Picton's) ;
it is not certain, however, that I shall
continue with it. This, however, se
cures me a place in the world when
ever the army moves. . . .
Camp of Waterloo, June 19th.
I know what satisfaction it will give
you to learn that I have been with the
5th division, and, therefore, in the hot
test of all this " glorious business," and
have escaped with two blows which
are of no consequence, and two horses
wounded which is of great consequence.
The Prussians are marching upon
Charleroi, and we move upon Nivelles
immediately. I consider the French army as utterly
destroyed, and we shall be in Paris as
fast as our legs can carry us. Tell
Aunt so, and recommend her to leave
off croaking. I am writing this unin
telligibly enough, but it would be still
worse by word of mouth at this mo
ment, for I am so hoarse at hurraing
all yesterday that I can scarcely articu
late. I have been four days without wash
ing face or hands, but am in hourly
expectation of my lavender water, etc.
I am very tired. Adieu, dear Sophia;
I hope this will reach you early, for I
well know how anxious you all will be
about me. Best love to Aunt, Henry,
Goully and all friends. I am much
afraid dear Goully will be called upon

6. Letter of Gneisenau to Madame
von Clausewitz and Countess Dohna.
(In Pertz-Delbriick, Das Leben Gneise-
naus, Vol. IV. p. 535.)
Henappe-sur-Oise, not far from Guise,
June 24, 1815.
My revered Friends : If the evening
in Namur pleased you, you had better
set out at once and follow us, for in or
near Paris we can celebrate a similar
or even merrier evening.
First of all you must know that your
husbands are safe and sound. The
third Army Corps had to cover our rear
while we were fighting. It suffered
violent attacks and fought on the i8th,
19th and 20th. Dohna and his regi
ment made a fine attack near Namur,
conquering five cannon and thus estab
lishing the fame of his regiment. It
went hard with the third Corps at first
but it has come out all right. Had we
lost the battle it would have been our
only stand-by.
Never was there a finer battle than
ours at Belle-Alliance (Waterloo) ;
never was one more decisive ; the
enemy annihilated as never an enemy
before. With several army Corps we
had crept round in the rear of the
enemy, who with greatly superior num
bers and still greater violence had at
tacked the Duke of Wellington, and
had concealed a number of our brigades
in a wood. Just when the fate of the
day was wavering, when the British
army had already considerably lost
ground and the enemy was about to
give it its death-blow we made up our
minds, in spite of the fact that most of
our brigades had not yet come up, to

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The Battle of Waterloo

295

make the attack with only two brigades.
We burst forth from the wood, directly
in the rear of the enemy, and opened
our fire. The enemy was in a desper
ate situation and fought, indeed, with
desperation, throwing all its reserves
against us. We kept our positions.
The enemy led troop after troop against
us, but we too gained reinforcements
from one quarter of an hour to another.
The firing was so violent that with
every pulse beat one of the enemy's
balls whizzed by, not to speak of our
own shots. I could hardly hear the
messages that came and even with my
strong voice had often to exert myself
very much in order to be heard. As
reinforcements came up we now pressed
forward cautiously but uninterruptedly.
It was a fine spectacle to see our four-
cornered batallions descend the terraced
heights with their batteries and tirail
leurs in front. After a stubborn resist
ance the enemy scattered in wild flight.
I made up my mind to leave him no
rest, put myself at the head of the
troops, encouraged the wearied ones to
follow me and thus with only a few
cannon which I let thunder forth from
time to time I chased the enemy from
all his bivouacs. Thus we followed,
constantly shooting and hewing them
down, until we came to the encamp
ment of the Guards. Bonaparte had
intended to stop in Jenappe but when
he heard our cannon-shots and our in
fantry and cavalry, small as they were,
came up, he fled from his carriage de
fending himself with a pistol. His hat
and sword remained in our hands. We
have his whole baggage, his diamonds
even. My fusileers sold four or five
diamonds as large and larger than peas
for a few francs. Quite a number of
diamonds fell to our share of this size
(drawing about the size of a small bean)
and one even of this size (large as a
pigeon-egg.) The fusileers chose out

the finest and sent them as a present to
the King. The subalterns of this bat-
allion dine now off silver. As my
share of the booty I kept Bonaparte's
seal, the one with which I seal this
letter. We did not halt until day
break. It was the most glorious night
of my life. The moon lighted up the
beautiful scene ; the weather was mild.
This news that I am sending you might
very well be put in the Dusseldorf
paper, but without mentioning my
name. We have conquered more than 400
cannon. The enemy is hastening in
wild flight towards Paris or else is
scattering far and wide. Bonaparte in
a round hat hurried through Beaumont.
Our loss is great. In the three days
of battle we have lost nearly 22000 men
in dead and wounded. But the army
for the most part showed out magnif
icently. It is unheard-of in history
that twenty-four hours after a lost bat
tle a new one is engaged in and so
decisive a victory gained.
The interest which you, honored
ladies, take in my person is for me a
sweet reward. In the last battle I again
had a horse shot through with a cannon-
ball while another was twice wounded
by a small ball. My sabre was once
knocked out of its sheath, another time
shot in pieces. My contusion is not
worth mentioning. God preserve you,
brave German women ! For such
women one is glad to fight. May my
daughters grow up with such senti
ments in their breasts. Gneisenau.
7. Correspondence between Gneis
enau and Muffling. (In Pertz-Delbruck,
Gneisenau's Leben, Vol. IV. pp. 542
ff.) Translation.
a. Gneisenau to Muffling.
Compiegne, June 27, 1815.
The French General de Tromelin is in
Noyons on his way to the headquarters

296

The Battle of Waterloo

of the Duke of Wellington in order to
treat about the handing over of Bona
parte. Bonaparte has been pronounced an
outlaw by the declaration of the allied
powers. It is possible that the Duke
of Wellington, out of regard for Par
liament, will hesitate to carry out the
sentence of the powers. You accord
ingly are to direct the negotiations in
this matter to the end that Bonaparte
be handed over to us to be put to
death. Thus eternal justice wills it, thus the
declaration of the 13th of March deter
mines, thus will the blood of our
soldiers who were killed and mutilated
on the 16th and 18th be avenged.
von Gneisenau.
b. Muffling to Gneisenau.
Nesle, June 28th, 1815.
I have had a conversation with the
Duke of Wellington concerning the
surrender and execution of Bonaparte.
He gave me two answers ; the first as
British marshal :
That he believed now our first duty
was to march on Paris. Could we
effect Napoleon's surrender we would
have to accept it but he did not believe
that the declaration of the 13th of
March authorized an execution for
" livre a la vindicte publique" did not
determine that he should be regarded
as an outlaw, but that he should be
proceeded against judicially. After
the recent great events that had hap
pened he considered that it was not a
case of pericula in mora and accord
ingly would feel it his duty in case
Napoleon were handed over to Prince
Blucher and the latter should wish to
execute him to request the prince in
writing to postpone the matter.
As a friend the Duke spoke as fol
lows :

The Prince could have Napoleon
executed in two ways, either after a
trial or by shooting him without cer
emony. If the good of Europe de
manded it he himself would have no
compunctions, but as this was not the
case such an execution would go down
in history as an action odieuse even
though the generation alive at present
should not blame it. The Duke con
sidered that which these two armies
had accomplished to be so great that
the two commanders by exercising mod
eration could only add to the glory of
their deeds.
I answered that it seemed to me if
Prince Blucher were to proceed against
Napoleon it would be an acte de de-
vouement, inasmuch as one could be
certain the sovereigns would grant
Bonaparte his life.
I am not a sovereign, answered the
Duke, but I believe the Prince will
think as I do — in the condition in
which we are, nous ne cederons a
aucun souverain ; and why should we
do something that sovereigns would not
do or about which anyone could say to
us, they would not have done it?
c. Gneisenau to Muffling.
Senlis, June 29, 18 15.
The Field-marshal orders me still to
say that you shall explain to the Duke
of Wellington that it had been the
Field-marshal's intention to execute
Bonaparte on the same spot where the
Duke of Enghien was shot, but that
out of regard for the Duke's wishes he
would omit the execution. The Duke
however must assume the responsibility
for such omission.
It seems to me as if the English
would be embarrassed with regard to
this surrender of Bonaparte. You are
therefore to negotiate solely on the basis
of his being handed over to us.
N. von Gneisenau.

JS©H MVJwffli

L

NAPOLEON JUST BEFORE THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

NAPOLEON ON THE ISLAND OF ST. HELENA.
(From an engraving of Horace Vernet's picture.)

The Battle of Waterloo

297

d. Gneisenau to Muffling.
Senlis, June 29, 1815.
If the Duke of Wellington declares
against the execution of Bonaparte, he
thinks and acts like a Briton. To no
mortal man is Great Britain under
greater obligations than to just this
rascal, for through the events that he
brought to pass England's greatness,
prosperity and wealth have been so
vastly increased. They are lords of
the sea and neither in this dominion
nor in the commerce of the world have
they any more rivalry to fear.
It is quite different with us Prussians.
We have been impoverished by him.
Our nobility can never again recover.

And should we not look upon our
selves as instruments of Providence
which has granted us such a victory in
order that we should exercise eternal
justice? Does not the death of the
Duke of Enghien call for such ven
geance? Shall we not subject our
selves to the reproaches of the peoples
of Prussia, Russia, Spain and Portugal
if we omit to render justice ?
Well, so be it then ! If people wish
to exercise a theatrical great-hearted-
ness I will not oppose them. I take
this attitude because of regard for the
Duke and — of powerlessness.
Count Gneisenau.

GROUP XXXII.
AN AMERICAN MINISTER AT THE COURT OF LONDON.

(From Rush's Narrative. London,
1833, pp. 97 ff.) February 25, 1818.
Having brought from my Govern
ment a letter of credence to the Queen,
I was this day presented to her. It
was called a private presentation, and
took place at Buckingham Palace.
I got to the palace before the hour
fixed. Servants were at the door, and
in the hall. Ascending an ample stair
case, the master of ceremonies received
me in one of the rooms of a suite, all
open, but no, one else in them. When
five o'clock came, he conducted me to
the audience-room, which I entered
alone. Immediately before me was the
Queen. On her right was one of the
Princesses, her daughter ; on her left
another. Near them were two ladies
in waiting. All were in full court-
dresses ; and all standing. In another
part of the room were her Majesty's
Chamberlain, and the Duke of Mont
rose. These made up the whole as

semblage. All was silence. Approach
ing the Queen, I said ; — " Having been
accredited by his Royal Highness, the
Prince Regent, as Envoy Extraordinary
and Minister Plenepotentiary from the
United States,, I have now the honor to
present this letter to Your Majesty. In
executing the duties of my mission,
I have it in charge from the President
so to bear myself as to give hope of
gaining your Majesty's esteem; and
this I beg to assure your Majesty will be
my constant ambition." She received
the letter. As she took it she said that
the sentiments I expressed were very
obliging, and entered into conversation.
Learning I was from Philadelphia she
asked questions about it, and others
respecting the United States, generally ;
all put in a very kind spirit. The in
terview lasted about fifteen minutes.
The Queen was then seventy-six.
Her birthday was the day following.
As I entered the room, and during the
whole interview, there was a benignity
in her manner, which, in union with

298 An American Minister at London

her age and rank, was both attractive
and touching. The tones of her voice
had a gentleness the result, in part, of
years ; but full as much of intended
suavity to a stranger. The scene as it
first broke upon me, its novelty, its
quiet yet impressive stateliness became
almost immediately, by her manner,
one of naturalness and ease. My im
mediate predecessor, Mr. Adams, when
presented to her, made an allusion to
qualities in her character, which, as I
came to learn through a good source
that it was advantageously remembered
at the English Court, I will repeat.
His mission commenced in 1815, directly
after the war between the two countries.
He said, that the political relations be
tween them had been subject to the
versatility that attended all human
affairs; that dissensions had arisen,
which however had been removed ;
but that the reverence commanded by
her Majesty's private virtues had been
subject to no such change ; it had been
invariably felt by his Government, and
he could utter no wish more propitious
to the happiness of both countries, than
that the future harmony between them
might be equally unalterable. The
allusion was happy because it was just.
Throughout a long life she had been
uniformly distinguished by her private
virtues, and her efforts to imprint them
upon the times. I saw he1" sinking
below the horizon. But the serenity
that I saw betokened that as the splen
dors of her day were setting she had a
consciousness that it was not for them
alone she had lived. Feb. 27.
Yesterday her Majesty held a draw
ing-room. It was in celebration of her
birth-day. My wife was presented by
Lady Castlereagh. . . .
Four rooms were allotted to the
ceremony. In the second was the
Queen. She sat on a velvet chair and

cushion, a little raised up. ... If the
scene in the hall was picturesque, the
one upstairs transcended it. The doors
of the rooms were all open. You saw
in them a thousand ladies richly dressed.
All the colors of nature were mingling
their rays together. It was the first
occasion of laying by mourning for the
Princess Charlotte ; so that it was like
the bursting out of spring. No lady
was without her plume. The whole
was a waving field of feathers. Some
were blue, like the sky ; some tinged
with red ; here you saw violet and yel
low ; there, shades of green. But the
most were like tufts of snow. The
diamonds encircling them caught the
sun through the windows and threw
dazzling beams around. Then the
hoops ! I cannot describe these. They
should be seen. To see one is nothing.
But to see a thousand — and their thou
sand wearers ! I afterwards sat in the
Ambassadors' box at a coronation.
That sight faded before this. Each
lady seemed to rise out of a gilded little
barricade ; or one of silvery texture.
This, topped by her plume, and the
"face divine" interposing ,_ gave to the
whole an effect so unique, so fraught
with feminine grace and grandeur, that
it seemed as if a curtain had risen to
show a pageant in another sphere. It
was brilliant and joyous. Those to
whom it was not new, stood at gaze as
I did. Canning for one. His fine
eye took it all in. You saw admiration
in the gravest statesmen ; Lord Liver
pool, Huskisson, the Lord Chancellor,
everybody. I had already seen in
England signs enough of opulence and
power. Now I saw, radiating on all
sides, British beauty. My own coun
try I believed was destined to a just
measure of the two first; and I had
the inward assurance that my country
women were the inheritresses of the
last. Matre pulchrd filia pulchrior.

An American Minister at London 299

So appeared the drawing-room of Queen
Charlotte. April 8th.
The Princess Elizabeth was married
last evening to the Prince of Hesse
Homburg. . . . Our invitation was
from the Queen, given through the
Earl of Winchelsea, nearly three weeks
before. . , . Soon after the service was
performed the bride and bridegroom
set off for Windsor. The company re
mained. The evening passed in high
ceremony, without excluding social
ease. From the members of the royal
family the guests had every measure of
courtesy. The conduct of the Queen
was remarkable. This venerable per
sonage, the head of a large family —
her children then clustering about her ;
the female head of a great empire — in
the seventy-sixth year of her age — went
the rounds of the company, speaking to
all. There was a kindliness in her
manner from which time had struck
away useless forms. No one did she
omit. Around her neck hung a minia
ture portrait of the King. He was ab
sent, scathed by the hand of Heaven ; a
marriage going on in one of his pal
aces ; he the lonely, suffering tenant of
another. But the portrait was a token
superior to a crown ! It bespoke the
natural glory of wife and mother,
eclipsing the artificial glory of Queen.
For more than fifty years this royal pair
had lived together in affection. The
scene would have been one of interest
anywhere. May it not be noticed on a
throne? ... April 16, 1818.
Went to the Court of King' s Bench
to hear the argument in the case of
wager of battle. The parties were
present. Through the courtesy of the
Judges, I had a seat on the bench, next
to Mr. Justice Bayley. On his left
was Lord Chief Justice Ellenborough,
occupying the seat of the Cokes, the

Hales, the Mansfields. To the left of
Lord Ellenborough were Mr. Justice
Abbot and Mr. Justice Holroyd. If at
Lord Hardwicke's I was awake to the
associations which the great legal names
of England call up, the feeling could
not be less here. The room was ex
tremely full. The case was so remark
able as to have become a topic in gen
eral society.
By the ancient law of England, when
a person was murdered, the nearest
relative of the deceased might bring
what was called an appeal of death,
against the party accused of the mur
der. Under this proceeding, the ac
cuser and accused fought. The weap
ons were clubs. The battle began at
sunrise, and was in presence of the
Judges ; by whom also the dress of the
combatants, and all other formalities
were arranged. Part of the oath was,
that neither combatant would resort to
witchcraft. If the accused was slain,
it was taken as proof of his guilt; if
the accuser, of his innocence. If the
former held out until star-light, that
also attested his innocence. If either
yielded whilst able to fight, it worked
his condemnation and disgrace. Those
who wish a full description of the pro
ceedings, may seek it in Sully, or con
tinental writers of an earlier day, as
Froissart, the custom having been im
ported into England by the Normans.
My summary will give the general idea.
It was a mode of trial for dark ages.
Ashford the appellor, had accused
Thornton the appellee, of the murder
of one of his relations, and the latter
desired to fight. In the highest tribu
nal of the most enlightened country of
Europe, I was listening to a discussion
whether or not this mode of trial was
in force in the nineteenth century ! It
was difficult to persuade myself of the
reality of the scene. Sir Humphrey
Davy' s remark was fresh in my mind.

300 An American Minister at London

Mr. Chitty, a lawyer of eminence,
argued against the right of battle. Mr.
Tindall had argued on the other side,
on a former day. Fleta, Bracton, the
Year-books, and other repositories of
ancient, law, were ransacked. Abun
dant ability was displayed on both sides.
The greatest order prevailed, even grav
ity. The Judges were in their robes.
About seventy lawyers sat in front of
them ; all in gowns and wigs. Finally,
the Judges decided that trial by battle
was in force. It had never, it seems,
been repealed.
To repeal laws, belongs to the legis
lature. Courts expound and apply
them. Free government is complex,
and works slowly ; tyranny is simple,
and does its work at once. An absurd
law may sleep in a free code, because
overlooked ; but; whilst there, it is the
law. It is so, I suppose, that we must
reason ; and generally the reasoning
would be right. Yet it might have
been thought, that, in a case like this,
long disuse added to obvious absurdity,
would have worked the silent repeal of
the law ; according to the doctrine of
desuetude under the Roman code.
- In the end, no battle was fought. A

technical flaw interposed to prevent it,
and Parliament passed a repealing
statute. But the case marks an inci
dent in English jurisprudence, having
come near to converting the Court of
King's Bench into another Lyceum of
Mendoza. On the 17th. of November,. died the
Queen. She expired at Kew Palace,
after a long illness. . . . Her funeral
was on the 2nd of December, at Wind
sor. The body had lain in state for
the time usual. The procession moved
from Kew. I went there with my sons.
The multitude was so great, of carriages,
persons on horseback, and foot passen
gers, that it might be said to form a
compact mass from London to Kew, a
distance of eight miles. . . . On the
3rd of December the theatres were re
opened. I went to Drury-Lane. The
house was crowded and everybody in
black for the Queen. Orders for
court mourning . take in only a limited
class ; but the streets, as the theatres,
are filled with persons of all classes,
who put it on. Even children wear it,
and servants. Such is the usage of the
country.

KING WILLIAM IV.

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