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