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 Engraved by Cjoltz at ihe time of her execution.)
 
 SIDE LIGHTS 
 
 ON 
 
 ENGLISH HISTORY 
 
 BEING EXTRACTS FROM 
 LETTERS, PAPERS, AND DIARIES OF THE PAST THREE CENTURIES 
 
 COI-LECTED AND ARRANGED BY 
 
 ERNEST F. HENDERSON, Ph.D. 
 
 Author of '•'-History of Germany in the Middle Ages'' Editor of 
 ^'•Select Historical Documents," 
 
 LONDON 
 GEORGE BELL AND SONS 
 
 NEW YORK: HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 1900
 
 Ed ilu Sister, 
 
 M. W, H., 
 
 WHO FIRST RECOMMENDED TO ME THE STUDY 
 
 OF HISTORY, 
 
 THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY 
 
 ©ctiiratcti.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 ALL hail to the new spirit that is permeating the methods of teaching and 
 studying of history, in New England especially, hut also as far as the 
 influence of the thousand-membered American Historical Society extends. It 
 is the veritable spirit of tlie 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 medii^ival 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 Qiieen 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, ur 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 luyself I shall have achieved something wortli the effort. It is to this 
 personal element in history that I have largely confined myself. Every great 
 event is ecjually 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 (luecns and from such prominent personages 
 IS the Pretenders, the Marlboroughs, the Electress of Hanover, the wife of 
 (jecjrge 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 
 
 Vll 
 
 A word as to the way in wliich 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 m.ind 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 tlie modern authorities sho,uld 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 remed}^ the deficiency. 
 
 In Group I. we start out with the personality of Qiieen Elizabeth, and are 
 fortunate enough to have an account of her at the time of her accession in i5'^8, 
 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 Qiieen." There follow a series of 
 extremely interesting letters sent by his different ambassadors in London, Feria, 
 Aquila and Qiiadra 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 ilnal 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 Qiieen. " The 
 Qiieen told me that Robert's wife was dead, or nearly so," writes Qiiadra, "' 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 Qiiadra to take 
 advantatje 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 
 Qiiadra 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 Qiieen 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 15S6, 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 ladv ; " but, 
 alas for that early lover's romance, he is now tifty-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 Qiieen 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 vears enough to teach him more 
 wisdom than tell a prince of anv 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. vSo seated in a chair at the foot 
 of her bt.-d she waited the knell of doom, and, guiltv 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 ( Xc;. 4) to her brother-in-law, IIeni\- 111. of France, 
 asking his good oHices 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 ^^'ingfleld, or Wynkfield, who is present, writes with the 
 utmost detail of everything that happened in Mary's last hour; with uncompuo- 
 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 sav 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 vScotland ami 
 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 16S5, 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 voii nfi//appy fact, ox 
 will accept it if it be made worth his while. Nevertheless a coolness ensues 
 which is ended by Elizabeth ( I) declaring that .sy/f? " is willing to drink most 
 willingly a large draught of the river of Lethe." Wilson maintains (Xo. 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 i^SS. The whereal)outs and strength of that fleet give rise to the 
 wildest reports. Drake himself writes to the Qiieen 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 vou 
 know how lovinglv 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 mav not 
 slip liy 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 tjiem considerable damage. They have been forced so far to leeward, 
 writes Drake, "as I hope in Ood, 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 wdiich 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 enemv's great hulks. The Spaniards cut their anchors and fled precipi- 
 tatelv, 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 th.e Governor of Connaught writes to the (^ueen of the extent of the damage 
 within his province and the ruthless butciiery of those unfortunates who swim 
 ashore.
 
 X Preface 
 
 In Group IV. \vc follow Qiieen Elizabeth through her decliniug days. 
 Bishop Goodmau tells how in this same year of the Spanish defeat, when he him- 
 self was a young hoy 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. Bv 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 Qiieen might not see her own wrinkles." 
 She is still very coy with her courtiers, and Cary, Earl of Monmouth (Xo. 2), 
 lias much ado in making her forgive him for having committed the crime of 
 matrimony. In 159S, 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 
 Qiieen, W. Slavata, a Bohemian nol)leman, 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 And the aged monarch merrily entertaining Duke Prussiano, 
 a "courteous and brave nobleman"; and the bishop goes on to relate how 
 " then did tlie Qiieen dance a galliard very comely, and like herself, to show tiie 
 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 Qiieen' 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 tlay 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 lilessed remove from this world to a lietter," 
 and her 3,000 gowns, worth at peddler's prices £'100,000, are taken to Holland 
 and sold. Iler successor, not altogether unnaturally, abhors her memory, but to 
 the people she is always good (^ueen Bess. 
 
 E. F. IIENUERSOX. 
 Rkdwooi) Cottage, Dlhlin, N. II., 
 May 4, 1900.
 
 Table of Contents 
 
 Page 
 
 Group I. The Personality of Qlteen Elizaheth . . . 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 Qiieen 
 — the sequel of the Leicester romance. 
 
 Grocp II. The Execution of Mary Qiteen of Scots . . 9-1S 
 
 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. 
 
 Group III. The Spanish Armada ...... iS-2:^ 
 
 First news of the great fleet — Spaniards flving 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 flght- 
 ing — requests for powder and shot — chasing the Spaniards — the 
 taking of the great galleass — the despatch of the flre-ships — the 
 flight of the Armada — the pursuit — pestilential sickness — destruc- 
 tion of Spanisli ships — massacre of survivors. 
 
 Group IV. The End of the Reign of Qi'EEn Elizabeth . 26-33 
 
 A glimpse of the Qiieen — 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 (^ueen — elaborate ceremonial — W. vSlavata — a 
 visit to Windsor — the order of the Garter — shrewd criticism of 
 the English — the Qiieen' s reception of Duke Prussiano — she 
 dances at seventy — the treason of Essex — attempt to seize the 
 Qiieen' 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.
 
 xil Table of Contents 
 
 Page 
 
 Groip 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 Qiieen— his wit — his diatribe against tobacco 
 
 foolish arguments — exorbitant duty placed on tobacco — medita- 
 tions on the Lord's Prayer — diatribe against all vvho 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. 
 
 Groip 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 VIL The ^L■VRRI.\GE 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 — mascjues — Lord Bacon's show — entreats the King not to 
 '■burv them quick " — the show deferred — finally takes place — a 
 slanderer punished. 
 
 Groii' \'III. The Spanish ^Lvrkiage Project . . . 55-60 
 
 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. 
 
 GroLI' IX. ClLVRLES L AND HENRIETTA MaKIA OF FrANCE . 61-66 
 
 Encomiums ou the princess — the marriage — from London Bridge 
 to Whitehall — the twenty-nine priests — Charles \io convert — a 
 (jueen's frown — priestly insolence — Charles's heroic interference 
 — the C^ueen breaks glass windows — dismissal of the French reti- 
 nue — the last of a rapacious horde — the reality vs. Van Dyck's 
 portraits. 
 
 Group X. Pakliament.vrv (Grievances Acjainst Charles I. . 67-S4 
 
 Dissolution of Parliament of 162:; — 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 xlii 
 
 murder of the Duke of Buckinorham — arbitrary taxation — ship 
 money — miseries of Ireland — trial of Strafford — his magniticent 
 defense — his desertion by the King — the Five Meml)ers — their 
 flight — their triumphant return — the eve of the Civil War. 
 
 Group XI. Tkial and Execution of Chari.es I. , . . S5-92 
 
 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 cvnicism — general horror and 
 grief — the fate of the hangman. 
 
 Group XII. Characteristic Traits of Oliver Cromwele . 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 ...... IO4-II5 
 
 Discussions on vagrancy, high-living, etc. — Cromwell's assent — 
 the case of James Nayler, a Qiiaker — horrid blasphemy — sug- 
 gested punishments — the sentence — Cromwell's letter — agitated 
 debates — c[uestion 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. . 1 15-124 
 
 Harbingers of the Restoration — General Monk — dissolution of 
 the Rump Parliament — Parliament and the King — the King's 
 declaration — his poverty — joyous anticipation — Pepysand Charles 
 on shipboard — the King's account of his adventures — the land- 
 ing — entrv into London — civic festivities — the fate of the Regicides 
 — the glories of Coronation Day — general rejoicings. 
 
 Group XV. The Plague of London ..... 1 24-131 
 
 Beginnings of the plague — gradual increase — a stricken maiil — 
 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 ...... 131-142 
 
 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 — 
 Pepvs buries his treasures — curious sights — the ruins of St. Paul's 
 — a walk through the citv.
 
 xiv Table of Contents 
 
 Pagb 
 
 Group XVII. The Court of Charles II 142-157 
 
 Revels and license at court— the arrival of the Qiieen— her ugly 
 ladies — the Qiieen 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 .Will. Rkbelliox of Argyle and Monmouth . . 15S-170 
 
 Early relations oi ISIonmouth 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 execution — 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. . . . 170-1S0 
 
 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 — Jeffi'ies 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. 
 
 Gfioui' XX. The Coming of William and Mary . . . 1S1-193 
 
 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-justitication — declared to have abdicated — the 
 Prince and Princess declared sovereigns — the oaths of allegiance 
 — tlie Qiiecn's unseeinlv levity — Bishop Burnet's palliation of it. 
 
 Guoui" XXI. The Stuarts in Exile ..... 192-305 
 
 French versions of the events of the Revolution — arrival of the 
 Qijeen — her reception by Louis XIV. — distinguished honors — 
 rich gifts — arrival of James II. — the French King's bounties — 
 Qiicstions of etiquette — the Qiieen's popularity — (|uestions of 
 precedence — the King resigned to his fate — thanks God for his 
 chastening-* — his departure for Ireland — generositv of Louis XIV. 
 — the battle on the Bovue — Mat Prior and " old James " — death
 
 Table of Contents xv 
 
 of James II. — recognition of his son by Louis XIV. — the oUl 
 Pretender solicits Qiieen Anne — an ardent Jacobite — the Pre- 
 tender's farewell to France — a Qiiaker's generosity — amusing 
 experiences of an English traveler — the young Pretender's hand 
 kissed — shall the young Pretender come to Boston? 
 
 Group XXII, Chauacteristic 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 Qiieen'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 Qiieen — the Qiieen's affec- 
 tion for the Marlboroughs — discordant notes — letter of the Duch- 
 ess against Mrs. Masham — a stormy interview with the Qiieen — 
 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 Qiieen 
 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 
 Qiieen's death — sharp letter of Qiieen Anne to the Elector George 
 — the Electress's vexation — her death. 
 
 Group XXV. George I. and the Princess of Ahi.den . . 237-244 
 
 Marriage of George and Sophia Dorothea — Konigsmark — ill- 
 treatment of Sophia Dorothea — the Countess Platen — scene in 
 the Opera House — disappearance of Konigsmark — proceedings 
 for divorce — a hearing before the ministers — the Princess in cap- 
 tivity — last hours of Qiieen 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 
 
 Page- 
 Group XXVI. King George II. and Queex Caroline . . 244-253 
 
 The coronation— borrowed finery — the Qiieen's influence over 
 her husband — lier patient encUnance of him — Robert Walpole 
 and tlie Qiicen — George's absence in Hanover — his English an- 
 tipathies — discontent of the people — pasquinades — the quarrel 
 with Prince Frederick — strong language of the Qiieen — illness of 
 the Qiieen — medical methods — the King's anxiety — petty out- 
 bursts — the QjLieen's death — the King's real grief — characteristics 
 of Caroline — characteristics of George — his peculiar habits. 
 
 Editorial. The Seven Years' War ..... -53--55 
 
 Group XXVIl. The Accession of Geoiuje 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 Xlecklenburg — tu vas etre Reinc 
 d" A)igletcrre — the wedding service — the landing in England — 
 Spanish insolence — the quarrel with Pitt — Pitt's resignation — 
 popular clamor — Bute's relinquishment of ccjnquests — a scathing 
 satire. 
 
 Group XXVIII. William Pitt and the American War ok 
 
 Independence ......... 266-272 
 
 Denunciation of the tea-tax — praise of Americans — defense of 
 property rights — the spirit of Whiggism — exhortation to repeal 
 the tax — to stop tlie war — a speech from the throne — England's 
 ignominious position — yon can not conqiicr America — disgrace- 
 ful happenings — Bourgoyne's surrender — the Hessian soldiers — 
 the emplovment of Indians — hell-hounds of savage war — the 
 last speech — affecting elocjuence — the death stroke. 
 
 Group XXIX. George III. and his IIi:ir Apparent . . 272-2S3 
 
 George IV.' simtruthfulncss — his extravagances and del>auch- 
 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 frighteneil — the Regency 
 Bill put off — the King rapidly recovers — regency caps — acrimony 
 of parties — the ball at Brookes's — the King's experiences while 
 in bathing. 
 
 Group XXX. The Death ok Nelson ..... 2S4-290 
 
 r^alse news about the French fleet — Nelson's impatience at Merton 
 — Nelson himself again — his care for tlie 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 clf)se fpiarters — Nelson's wound — in the cock-pit
 
 Table of Contents xvii 
 
 — affecting interview with Hardy — death in the arms of victory 
 — the first wording of the signal. 
 
 Group XXXI. The Battle of Waterloo .... 391-297 
 
 Welhngton's exultation — Bhicher to his wife — embraces Welling- 
 ton — Blucher's account of Napoleon's escape — details of the battle 
 by an otficer 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. Ax American Minister at the Coi-rt ok 
 
 London .......... 297-300 
 
 The charming old (^ueen — the glories of the plumes ami 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 
 
 291 
 
 / o 
 
 To Fack I'ac-.e 
 
 Pkixce Alheut. Engraved lioiii tlic painting by I'aitridge . . 300 
 
 AxxE OF Dknmauk, wife of James I. Engraved by Houbraken . 35 
 
 Ax Aley of Qleen Axxe. Engraved bv Schenck . . . . 219 
 
 Ql^een Axxk. Engraved by J. Smith ...... 226 
 
 Augustus the Stroxg of Saxony. Engraved ])v R. \\'hite in 1697 217 
 
 Beucher. Engraved in iSi^ ........ 293 
 
 Heads of Beucher axd Wei.i.ixotox. From Booth" s Battle of 
 
 Waterloo ........... 
 
 George Vielieks, Duke of Bickingham. Anon. From Van der 
 
 Werft's painting .......... 
 
 Rebus ox Bute. Contemporary ....... 265 
 
 Ql'EEx Caroeixe. Contemporary ....... 246 
 
 Catherixe of Bragaxza, wife of Ciiaki.ks II. ICngraved bv 
 
 Melaer ............ 143 
 
 Charles I. Engraved by Beckett from a painting by Van Dyck . 61 
 
 Charles I., with Charles II. Anon. From Van Dvck's painting 64 
 The Childrex of Chaulfs I. Modern engraving of Van Dvck's 
 
 painting ........... S7 
 
 Charles II. Engraved 1)\ Brown in 1678 from Sir Peter Lely's painting 120 
 
 Charles II. of Spaix . . . . . . . . . 214 
 
 Charles III. of Spain (afterwards ICmperor Charles VI.). Engravetl 
 
 by Wei gel ........... 2 16 
 
 The Emperor Charles VII. Engraved by Pfeffel .... 249 
 
 Charles XII. of Sweden. Engraved by Schenck . . . 220 
 QuEEX Ch.vrlotte. Engraved bv the Ryders in 1804 from the paint- 
 ing bv Beechey . . . . . . . . . . 277 
 
 Oliver Cromwell. Engraved by M;izot (double page) ... 92 
 
 Oli\-er Cko.mwell. Probably by Schurt/, ...... 104 
 
 The Empress Elizabeth of Russia. Engraved by Stenglin . . 254 
 
 Qi'EEN Elizabeth. Engraved by Greatbach from an original painting i 
 Elizabeth of Bohemia. Engraved by Delph from a painting of 
 
 Miereveld's in 1623 ......... 51 
 
 Prince Eucjexe. Engraved by Vogel . . . . . . 224 
 
 The Empehor Fraxcis I. Engraved by Ph. A. Kilian . . . 253 
 
 Frederick the Fikst, Kixg of Pkusslv. Engraved by Weigel . 213 
 
 Frederick the Great. Engraved by Schlenen .... 253 
 
 Frederick the Great axd Peter III. makinc; peace . . . 2^6 
 Frederick, Coint Palatine. Engraved by Delph from a painting of 
 
 Miereveld's in 1622 . . . . . . . . » 48
 
 XX 
 
 List of Illustrations 
 
 George I. Engraved in 17 14 . 
 
 George II. Anon. ........ 
 
 George II. Ens^raved by Pfeffel ..... 
 
 George III. as Prince of Wales. Engraved by McArdell 
 George III. Engraved by Bcnj. Smith in 1S04 from the painting by 
 
 Beechey ........ 
 
 George IV. Anon. ....... 
 
 Gneisenau. Engraved by Carl Mayer 
 
 Henrietta Maria. Engraved by Schurtz in 1629 
 
 Iames 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 ok Judge Jeffries by the People. Modern repro 
 
 duction of old print ...... 
 
 The Emperor Joseph I. . 
 
 Leibnitz. Engraved by Ficquet .... 
 
 The Earl of Leicester. Anon, contemporaiy 
 
 The Emperor Leopold. Engraved by le Pmitre 
 
 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. Ileiss . 
 
 The Empress Maria Theresia^ Engraved by Pfeffel 
 
 The Duchess of Marlborough. Engraved by J. Smith 
 
 The Duke of Marlborough, Engraved by Valk . 
 
 Mary Qi'EEN of vScots. Engraved by Golz about 15S7 
 
 Mary Queen of Scots. Engraved by J. West 
 
 Queen Mary. Anon, contemporary .... 
 
 Qi'EEN Mary Beatrix. Anon, contemporary . 
 Maximilian Emmanuel of Bavaria. Anon. . 
 James Duke of Monmouth. Engraved by Picart in 1724 
 Napoleon before the Battle of Waterloo. Engrave 
 
 picture by Goubaud painted during the hundred days 
 Napoleon on the Island of St. Helena. From a lit 
 
 Horace Vernet's painting ..... 
 
 Nelson. Engraved in Italy in 1799 .... 
 
 The Death of Nel.son ...... 
 
 Peter the Great. Engraved by J. Smitli in 1697 . 
 William Pitt. Anon, ...... 
 
 Pit I MP II. Anon. Most probably contemporary 
 
 Philip V. of Spain. Engraved by Hafner 
 
 An illustrated news-leaf, contemporary, concerni\( 
 
 ishment of the ricgicidks .... 
 
 Prince Rupert. Anon. ,...., 
 Slavata. Anon, contemporary ..... 
 The Electress Sophia. Engraved by Schenck in 17 10 
 
 To Face Page 
 
 242 
 
 24S 
 
 272 
 274 
 
 62 
 40 
 
 33 
 162 
 
 199 
 
 Fro 
 
 d from the 
 lograph of 
 
 riiK PIN 
 
 216 
 230 
 6 
 214 
 197 
 
 251 
 216 
 
 254 
 
 ntispiece 
 
 9 
 191 
 
 193 
 215 
 159 
 
 296 
 
 297 
 2S4 
 287 
 21S 
 278 
 2 
 21 1 
 
 121 
 
 S4 
 28 
 
 234
 
 List of Illustrations 
 
 XXI 
 
 To Face I'age 
 
 Ensriaved by 
 
 SoiMiiE Charlotte, Electress of Bkandenbur(; 
 
 Hainzclmann in 1689 ......... 
 
 Sophia Dorothea, Daughter of George I. Engiaved by J. Smitli 
 
 i" 1715 
 
 Thomas Eare of Strafford. Enij^iaved by K. W'liite from \'an 
 
 Dyck's paintinoj .......... 
 
 The Tea-Tax Tempest. An Allegorical represcntaticjn 
 Wellington. Engraytd by Ficlker from Beechcy's painting 
 William of Orange as a Boy. Engrayed by Crispin yan Qiieboorc-n 
 William and Wary. Anon. ........ 
 
 William of Orange (King William III.). Engraved by Jean Verkalje 
 Prince William Henry (Later William IV.). Engrayed l)y Barto- 
 
 lozzi from a painting by West 
 King William IV. Anon. 
 Queen Victoria. Anon, (about 1S40) 
 The Christening of the Prince of Wales. Caricatures drawr 
 
 in 1 84 1 
 
 239 
 243 
 
 79 
 270 
 
 292 
 205 
 208 
 iSi 
 
 29S 
 300 
 3rOO 
 
 300
 
 t^UEKN KLIZABETH. 
 
 (Kiiy 1 n 111 \<\ (jriMlbacli from tlu- original by \. Milliard.)
 
 SIDE LIGHTS 
 
 ON 
 
 ENGLISH HISTORY 
 
 GROUP I. 
 
 THE PERSONALITY OF QITEEX ELIZABETH. 
 
 I . Extract from Sir Robert Naun- 
 ton, " Fragmenta Regalia." (Printed 
 together with Gary's Memoirs. Edin- 
 burgh, iSoS.) 
 
 . . . 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 uile 
 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 debojiairc., 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. i=^=;9« 
 (In Camden, Life and Reign of Qiieen 
 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 Qiieen, 
 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 I'21izabeth, who liv'd 
 and died a Maiden-C^uecn.' " 
 
 3. Correspondence of Spanish En- 
 vovs in London with Philip II. (From 
 State Papers ; Spanish Series. ) 
 
 Fcria to Pliilip II. 
 
 Dec. 14, 155S. 
 ... 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 Qi^ieen 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 incompai-ably 
 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 Qiieen, 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 slic will marry for caprice. . . . 
 I do not know which way the Qiieen 
 is inclined, for on the one hand she 
 complained to me of her sister's having 
 married a foreigner, and on the other
 
 Li 
 
 PHILIPPVS H.D.G.HISPANIARVM 
 ET INDIARVM REX CATOLICVS, 
 
 ARCH ID VX AVSTRI^. 
 
 HBii'-^ .^ ■ — ■ —
 
 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 Qjieen, 
 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 oli 
 that day I sent her by the Admiral's 
 wife the two rings that your Majesty 
 gave me which belonged to the late 
 Qiieen, 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 Qiieen, 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 w^anted 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 I I, 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 ves, 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 vou 
 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. . . . 
 
 Mav loth. 
 What can be said here to vour 
 Majesty is only that this countrv, 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.] 
 
 Bishop of A(] nil a to Philip. 
 
 May 30th. 
 . . . We [the queen and the bishop] 
 continued at this for some time wasting 
 words, and at last she said elie was re- 
 solved not to marry except to a man of 
 worth whom slie 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 1 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
 
 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 onlv 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. — En.] 
 
 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 C^ueen) 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 
 trving to turn him out of his place. 
 After exacting many pledges of strict 
 secrecy, he said the Qiieen 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 Qiieen, 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 saving 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 Qiieen 
 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 Qiieen 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 
 Qiieen 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 tJie King. 
 
 Nov. 20th, 1560. 
 
 . . . Cecil has given way to Robert, 
 ^vho they say was married to the Qiieen 
 in the presence of his brother and two 
 ladies of the chamber. , . 
 
 Jan. 22d, I ^61 . 
 
 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 Qiieen 
 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 liad 
 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 Qiieen or Lord 
 Robert ever said a word to me that I 
 could write. . . . He said that if I 
 was satisfied about tlie 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, 
 i»s, 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 
 your 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 itiight do to 
 mend it, but that it would be difHcult 
 for Lord Robert to make things appear 
 as he represented tliem. He ansvvered 
 it was quite true that no one believed 
 it, and that even preachers in the pul- 
 pits discoursed on the matter in a wav 
 that was prejudicial to the honour and 
 interests of the (^ueen. . . . He said 
 the C^ueen would not mention the mat- 
 ter to me iMiless I began the conversa- 
 tion, but that I inight be siu^e that she 
 desiretl 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 Qjieen 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 Qjieen 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 C^ueen and Lord Rob-
 
 Elizabeth 
 
 ert into it, and getting in writing and 
 signed by her whatever the Qiieen 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 
 wiien she has no intention of fulfilling 
 what she says, and only wishes to use 
 our authority for her own designs and 
 intentions. . . . 
 
 ^uadi-a to Philip. 
 
 Time 30th. 
 . . . Onthedayof St. JohntheQiieen 
 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 Qiicen and her affairs. 
 ... If they did this they could effect 
 the marriage they spoke of. . . . As 
 things were I did not think the Qjieen 
 would be able to marry except when 
 and whom Cecil and his friends might 
 please. . . . 
 
 iit(ziiia)i lie Siiva to J'i/ilip //. 
 Oct. 2d, 1564. 
 . . . On Michaelmas day, with the 
 usual ceremony, here the C^ueen 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 Qiieen 
 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. Tiien the Lord Hunsdon with 
 the sword, in a royal scabbard of gold- 
 smith's work. And, after him, the 
 Qiieen' 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 Qiieen' s INIajestie 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 Qiieen' 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 L^niversity 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. . . .
 
 RVPERTVS DVDLi^VS COM. LICE- 
 
 IJVDLMX ComxB^ LiCESTIU, en, a^a ^PEnri, 
 
 lA/L^nanimt wonwius JXIafHi altmuw^ crafr
 
 Elizabeth 
 
 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 
 manv 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, " Xon 
 
 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, 18S7. Editor's trattslat/on 
 from the I^atin.) 
 
 On the last day of August, the 
 brightest that we remember in our 
 whole lives, — it was a w'onderfully 
 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 tlieir 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 roval 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 dithdent. 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 
 resountl 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, Fridav, 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 tleparture the more grievously 
 afllicted 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' JEtat^ 
 Vol. n. p. S07, 15S6. Translated. 
 
 . . . Tlie 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 
 (|uick tempered, and, above all, excess- 
 ively jealous of her position.
 
 Elizabeth 
 
 On lier coming to the tin one 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 confulencc in him. 
 
 She has had Lord Dudlev, later I'Zarl 
 of Leicester, whom she lias alwavs 
 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 duriuir the whole of 
 
 her reign have had most influence with 
 her ; and in fact 1 believe that tiie man 
 in all the world she came nearest to 
 marrying was this Eail of Leicester, 
 iiaving had a wonderful affection for 
 him which she lierself 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 greatlv 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 ladv. [This 
 was 2 2 years after llie scene on ship- 
 board. — Ed.] 
 
 GROUP n. 
 
 THE EXECl'TIOX OF MAUV (^IKEX OF SCOTS. 
 
 I. Extract from Sir James Melville's 
 ^Memoirs (Pul)l. l^annatvne Club, 1S27, 
 p. 35t ff.). Spelling modernized. 
 
 1586. 
 
 . . . New they that were enemies 
 to our Qiieen and King's [Mary and 
 James VL] 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 Qiieen'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 imto 
 the Qiieen of England, her heart would 
 not suffer her, as she alleged, to let any 
 sentence be given forth against the 
 Qiieen, her dear sister and cousin, so 
 
 near of her roval 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 movetl, for very pity of 
 them, to give forth the sentence of death 
 upon the Qiieen, with condition that it 
 sliould rather serve to be a fear and 
 terror unto her, to cause her to cease 
 from making any more practices, than 
 that slie would see the blood of so noble 
 a princess to be shed. And in the 
 '.neantime 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.
 
 lO 
 
 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 Qiieen warning a night before, to 
 prepare her for God. . . . 
 
 2. Extracts from Letters of Qiieen 
 Elizabeth to King James of Scotland, 
 (Publ. by Camden Society, 1S49.) 
 
 January, 15S6-7. 
 . . . You may see whether I keep 
 the serpent that poisons me when they 
 confess to have reward [.v/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. I, 15S6-7. 
 
 . . . 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 liand of some indifferent 
 prince, antl have all her cousins and 
 allies promise she will no more seek 
 mv ruin. Dear ])rother and cousin, 
 weigh in true unt] equal l)alance whether 
 they lack not nuich 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? . . . OKI 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 fro7n the FrettcJi. 
 
 Monday the sixth of February the 
 dean of Peterborough and some others 
 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 
 davs 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 
 Shreweshury 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 Qjieen 
 of England liail 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 
 Qiieen had taken care she should be 
 informed, she should hear read her 
 sentence which he and the Earl of 
 Kent together with Mr. Beale hatl 
 been appointed to carry out, as she 
 should hear. 
 
 Thereupon said Beale commenced to 
 read it, written on parchment w^ith the 
 great seal of England appended, and in 
 it her Majesty was called Mary Stuart, 
 daughter of James V., otherwise known 
 as Qiieen of Scots and Dowager of 
 France. 
 
 When this had been reatl 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 wliat had now hap- 
 pened, and had onlv 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 Qiieen of England, granil- 
 daughter of King Henry VII., and she 
 had enjoyed the honor of being (^ucen 
 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 alwa}s done her 
 utmost, loving the Qiieen, her good 
 sister, and the Island as dearly as she 
 did herself ; as she had often shown bv 
 offering to take such measures that 
 evervthing 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 Qiieen nor of any other 
 person whatever. She was told in 
 replv 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 learnetl men 
 in I2urope, 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 vtiuth, and this chiefiv 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 licr 
 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 dav, "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 clotlies on for several hours, 
 she put her last wishes into writmg as 
 fully as she could in the time at her 
 command, arranged about her furni- 
 ture and about the journev 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 HI. 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 cjueen, my cousin, 
 
 where I have passed more than twenty 
 vears 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 1 am 
 dying, but aver it is for fear I shall 
 change theirs. Consequently they have 
 removed mv 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 
 ( Rourgoing) and his companions, who 
 are mostly your subjects, will bear wit- 
 ness how I comport mvself in this my 
 last act. It remains for me to suppli- 
 cate you, as most Christian king, my 
 brothei-in-law, friend, allv and one who
 
 Elizabeth 
 
 13 
 
 has so done me the honor of loving nie 
 and protesting that love, that on the 
 occasion of this blow you will give 
 proof in all these matters t>i 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 pravcrs 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 \ou 
 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 mav 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 
 testimonv of the sincerity of her heart 
 towards vou. 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 verv affectionate, good sister, 
 
 Mauv. 
 
 5. Letter of R. Wynkfield to Lord 
 Burleigh. (In Dack : Trial, Execu- 
 tion and Death of Mary Qiieen of Scots. 
 Northampton, 1SS9, p. i ff. Spelling 
 modernized and construction occasion- 
 ally simplified.) 
 
 Feb. Sth, 15S6. (Counts the New 
 Year as beginning March 25.) 
 
 It being certified on the 6th of Feb- 
 ruarv last to the (^ueen 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, seemi:'g not to be in 
 any terror, by aught that appeared 
 from any outward gesture or behavior, 
 of how ihey 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 Sth of February came and 
 the time and place appointed for the 
 execution as aforesaid of the C^ueen of 
 Scots. She was of stature tall and 
 bodv corpulent, round-shouldered, her 
 face fat and broad, double-chinned and 
 with hazel eyes, her borrowed hair au- 
 l)urn. 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 
 witli silver and edged on the tops with 
 silver, and next her legs a pair of white 
 Jersey hose. 
 
 The C^ueen, thus apparelled, in a 
 kind of jov, without any desire of de- 
 ferring of matters or time, ileparted
 
 14 
 
 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 Dru Drury and 
 divers knights and gentlemen of good 
 account did meet her, where one of the 
 said Qiieen's servants, named Melville, 
 kneeling on his knees to the said 
 Qiieen, 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 
 (^ueen and mistress is beheaded in Eng- 
 land I " This said, tears prevented 
 him of further speaking; whereupon 
 the said Qjieen, 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. Hut I pray (slie 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 C^ucen, 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 
 Ag->ins 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 
 
 15 
 
 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 (^ueen she never altered her 
 countenance, l)ut, 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 kirtlc, her 
 two women, looking upon her, l)urst 
 out into a very great and pitiful weep- 
 ing, crying and lamenting ; and when 
 their crying and shrieking began to tle- 
 cline they crossed themselves and prayed 
 in Latin. 
 
 Then the said Qiieen, 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 ^our 
 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 Qiieen 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 Qiieen and 
 mistress and pinned it fast upon the 
 crown of her head. Then the two 
 women mournfully departed from her. 
 And then the said Qiieen 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 thcv not been es- 
 pied. Then she laid herself upon the 
 block most ciuietly 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 slighth' 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 
 Qiieen. Then her dressing of lawn fell 
 from her head, which appeared as gray 
 as if she had been 3.^ 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 stiired up and 
 down almost a quarter of an hour after 
 her head was cut off. Then said Mr. 
 Dean, " So perish all the Qiieen' 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 Qiieen and 
 the gospel's enemies." Then one of 
 the executioners, plucking off her gar- 
 ters, espied her little dog whicli 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 tiling 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 imto 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 vour good Lord : if 
 not in some better or worse words tlian 
 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 iitli 
 of February, 1586(7). 
 
 Your Honor's in all huinl)lc service 
 to command, 
 
 R. W'^ NKKIKI.I). 
 
 6. Letter of Qiieen Elizabeth to King 
 James tiie Sixth, disavowing her having 
 caused the execution of the C^ueen of 
 Scots. (In Ellis, Original Letters. 
 First Series; Vol.111, p. 22.) Mod- 
 ernized spelling. 
 
 I'el). 14, 15S6. 
 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 vou to favor, 
 to instruct vou trulv of tliat 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 bv 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 l;iv 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 }Ou. 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 Gary [Edinburgh, iSoS], the 
 Bearer of the above Letter. 
 
 The next year (which was isS6) was 
 the (^ueen 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 afhim. 
 
 1 was w.iylaid in Scotland, if I had 
 gone in, to have been murdered; but
 
 Klizabeth 
 
 17 
 
 the king's majesty, knowing the dis- 
 position of his people [which he evi- 
 dently did not share! I*2d.] 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 IMelven met me at the bound road, 
 where I delivered my message in 
 writing, and my letters from the Queen 
 to the King:. . . . 
 
 S. Letter of James to Elizabeth (in 
 Camden Soc. publication). 
 
 March, 15S6-7. 
 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 
 vmite this isle. . . . 
 
 9. Letter of Elizabeth to James. 
 
 May, 1588. 
 My pen, my dear brother, hath re- 
 mained so long dry as [that] -I suppose 
 it hardly would have taken ink again, 
 but, mollified bv 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 zvillingly a large 
 draught of the river of Letlie^ 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 imtruth, which 
 God will not suffer me live unto. 
 
 10. Extract from Wilson : Life and 
 Reign of James L (In Kenneth, Vol. 
 IL p. 6S9.) 
 
 And now the King [James has be- 
 come King of England] casts his 
 thoughts towards Peterborough, where 
 his mother lay, whoin 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 w^as accounted a piaculous action 
 of the King's by many; though some 
 have not stuck to say that, as Qiieen 
 Elizabeth was willing to be rid of the 
 Qiieen 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 Qiieen, 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 ^iieen Elizabeth from taking 
 a-vay his mother's life, tvas the great- 
 est instrument to persuade her to it, 
 distilling always into her this sen- 
 tence, " Mortua non mordef (when 
 she is dead she cannot bite). 
 
 GROUP III. 
 
 THK SPANISH AISMADA. 
 
 (Front State Papers, Navy Records Society, i8g4.) 
 
 1. Letter o*^ Admiral Howard to 
 Secretary Walsyngham. 
 
 March 9th, 15S7-S. 
 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 I'rancis Drake to 
 the Council. 
 
 March 30th. 
 . . . My very good Lords, next 
 under (iod's mighty j^rotection the ad- 
 vantage and gain of time and place 
 will be the only and chief means for 
 our gooil ; wherein I most humlily be- 
 seech your good Lordships to persevere 
 as vou 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 tliree hundred with the red 
 cross, which is a great presumption, 
 proceeding of the haughtiness and pride 
 of the Spaniard, and not to be tolerated 
 bv any true, natural English heart. 
 
 3. Letter of Drake to the Queen. 
 April 2Sth. 
 
 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 Walsynham. 
 
 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. Mv- 
 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 Instil}^ 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 WalsyngJiam. 
 
 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 man}^ 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. 
 
 Ho-vard to WalsyiiohaDi. 
 
 July 13th. 
 ... I am verv sorry to perceive by 
 vour letter tliat 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. . . . 
 AVe 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. . . . 
 
 Hozvard to Walsyngham. 
 
 July 2 I 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 i 20 sail, whereof 
 there are 4 galeasses and many ships 
 of great Inirden. 
 
 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. Hut there shall be nothing 
 either neglected or unhazardL-d that may 
 work their overthrow. 
 
 Sir, the captains in her Majesty's 
 ships have behaved themselves most 
 bravclv 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 2 1st of July, 15SS. 
 
 Your very loving friend, 
 
 C. IIOWAKI). 
 
 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. 
 
 S. 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 w'e could wish. 
 His carefvdness 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 
 vSidonia 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 vour 
 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, 158S. 
 
 Your Honour's most readv to be 
 commanded, 
 
 FiiA. Drakk. 
 
 There must be great care taken to 
 send us munition and victual witherso- 
 ever the enemy gocth. Yours, 
 
 Fka. 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 
 ^ve 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- 
 Avard 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 ashoi^e 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 
 Afargate 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 2Sth 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 12 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 confusedlv 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 them.selves ; and 
 are now, by the earnest pursuit of our 
 Englishmen, very much weakened and 
 dispersed, the Lord be praised, so that 
 of the 124 sail that they were in Calais 
 Road, we cannot now find by any 
 account above S6 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, bv 
 reason of their evil harbours. 
 
 At the break of day upon Mondav 
 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 vSpanish fleet 
 being two leagues to leeward of her.
 
 22 
 
 Elizabeth 
 
 My Lord Admiral began to go toward 
 tlie 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 tlie 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 
 bv 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 
 l)loody heads. 
 
 Mv 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 
 wc continued a pretty skirmish with 
 our small shot against theirs, they being 
 ensconced within their ship and very 
 high oyer us, we in our open pinnaces 
 and far under them, haying nothing to 
 shroud and coyer us ; they being 300 
 soldiers, besides .j:;o slaves, and we 
 not, at the instant, loo 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 
 
 ^3 
 
 dan, the Governor of Calais. I de- 
 manded to know what his pleasure was. 
 They answei'ed 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 simdry 
 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 pui^sued 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 them.selves. 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, thev 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 I . 
 
 . . . Upon Sunday, being the 2Sth 
 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 prepai'ed [signalled] 
 with a saker shot, and going in a front, 
 having the wind and tide with them, 
 and their ordnance being charged, 
 were fired [/. c, 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 
 suddemiess of it. Wc might perceive 
 that there were two great fires more than 
 ours, and far greater and hugcr than 
 any of our vessels that we fired cmdd 
 
 8. Letter of 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 
 tliat 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 Qiieen. 
 
 Dec. 3rd, 15SS. 
 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 iioo 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 ii\ 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, 
 
 Rv. BlXGlIA.M.
 
 26 
 
 Elizabeth 
 
 GROUP IV. 
 
 THE END OK THE REIGX OF QL'EEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 I. Extract from Bishop Goochiian's 
 " Court of James I." (London, 1S39. ) 
 Vol. I. p. 163. 
 
 ... In the year 'SS, 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 
 Decemi)er, much about five of the 
 clock at night, very dark) that the 
 Qiieen was gone to coimcil, and if you 
 will see the (^ucen 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 C^ueen came out in great state. 
 Then we cried: ''God save your ma- 
 jestv ! God save your majesty 1 " Then 
 the Qiieen turned unto us and said, 
 " God bless you all, my good people ! " 
 Then we cried again : " God save your 
 Majestv ! God save your Majesty I " 
 Then the Qiieen 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 Qiieen departed. 
 This wrought such an impression upon 
 us, for shows and pageants are ever 
 best seen by torchlight, tliat 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. Xow tins 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. Hut here we were to C(jme 
 
 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 Alemoirs of 
 Cary, Earl of Monmouth. (Published 
 in Edinborough, iSoS.) 
 
 1593. [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 Qiieen 
 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 l)y writing, I must deliver myself. 
 ... He acquainted her Majesty with
 
 Elizabeth 
 
 27 
 
 mv 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 i'^9S. (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; particularlv 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 Qiieen 
 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 Qiieen 
 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, 
 OflScers of the Crown, and Gentlemen, 
 who waited the Qjieen'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 Qiieen, 
 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 
 L se 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.
 
 2^ 
 
 Elizabeth 
 
 Bosom was uncovered, as all the Eng- 
 lish Ladies have it, till they marry ; 
 and she had on a Kecklace 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, 
 or 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. vSlawata, 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 Kings and Jewels, a IMark 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, very 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 Battlcaxes. 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 livL- (^ueen Elizabeth I " She 
 answered it with, '" I thank you mv 
 good People." In tlic Ciiapel was ex- 
 cellent Music; as soon as it and tlu' 
 
 Service was over, which scarce ex- 
 ceeded half an Hour, the Qiieen 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 vSalt, with as much Awe as if the 
 Qiieen had been present. When they 
 had waited there a little while, the Veo- 
 men of the Guard entered, bareheaded, 
 cloathed in Scarlet, with a golden Rose 
 upon their Backs, bringing in at each 
 Turn a Coinse of twenty-four Dishes, 
 served in Plate most of it Gilt ; these 
 Dishes were received by a Gentleman 
 in the same Order thev were brought, 
 and placed upon tlie Tal)le, 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 
 
 TA CONSTSECRETO DI StaTO, 
 
 E Cam'deleImperatoreFer 
 
 DiNANDoS'ECONDo Gran Can 
 cellierodelRegnodiBoemia&
 
 Klizabeth 
 
 29 
 
 for half an Hour together. At tlie 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 
 Qiieen's inner and more private Cham- 
 ber, where, after she had chosen for 
 herself, the rest goes to the Ladies of 
 the Court. 
 
 The Qiieen 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 buildings much increased by Ed- 
 ward IIL 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 IIL, 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," /. <?., 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 vSide ; 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,
 
 30 
 
 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 Fanners ; 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, // /.v a pity Jic is not an Eng- 
 lishman. 
 
 4. Extract from (ioodman. Court of 
 Kin<^ James 1. ( \'ol. 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 
 Qiiecn go to the chapel. The C^ueen 
 having notice of this, and knowing 
 liiin by one that stood next to him, as 
 
 she came by took some occasion tc 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 Qiieen 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. . . . 
 
 ^. Extracts from State Papers, 1601, 
 concerning the conspiracy of Essex. 
 
 7. 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 manv other private gifts
 
 Elizabeth 
 
 d 
 
 I 
 
 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 he 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 Qiieen as he misliked, 
 and could not bend to his traitorous 
 faction ; then Tyrone and he were to 
 join their forces, and by destroying her 
 JSIajesty, Essex to be made sole King 
 of England. 
 
 2. Directions for Preachers. 
 
 Amongst all the treasons that have 
 happened in this kingdom none can he 
 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 ver}' 
 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. 
 
 J. yohn CJiamberlain to Dudley 
 Carlcton. 
 
 . . . 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 
 near. 
 
 6. The Death of Elizabeth. (From 
 Camden,) 
 
 1603. 
 
 The Qiieen, 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 enjov 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 Qiieen 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 Qiieen 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 inibittcr 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 Qiieen' 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 
 voung king : whose pretensions the 
 Qiieen alwavs favoured at the bottom. 
 ... In the beginning of ^Nlarch 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 
 vet attained by any of the kings of 
 Ensrland. 
 
 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 tiirba 
 medicoriim occidit rcgem ; for they say 
 she died only for lack of physic. There 
 was some whispering that her brain 
 was somcwliat 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 thinirs else answerable.
 
 KIM. JA.MK.S, l^l liliN ANNIi, rKINCli CIIARLK.S, I'RINCli IlKNKY. 
 (Engraved curly in this century from an original of Crispin de I'asse.)
 
 James I. 
 
 33 
 
 GROUP V. 
 
 CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS OF JAMES I. 
 
 I. Extracts from Sully's "Memoirs 
 (Bohn Edition, 1S56. 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 w'hen the king my master made 
 a party for the chase, he was so far 
 from thinking, like the King of Eng- 
 land, that my pi-esence 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 w'as 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 highlv 
 disagreeable to the court, w^here 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 the 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 ALijesty'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 mv arrival till our sitting down to 
 table ; the conversation turned almost 
 entirely upon the chase and the weather ; 
 tlie 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 tiiat 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 
 Qiieen 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 Qiieen, 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- 
 jirised 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 pubUshed 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 coi- 
 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 
 €ver 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 B n c k i //^'// a in' s ]ow\3.\ 
 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 thinks were of that 
 
 kind of strength as Frontiniack, Canary, 
 High Canary wine. Tent wine and 
 Scottish Ale, that had he not had a 
 very sti'ong 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 
 Somersef s case : yet had he not been 
 in that foul 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 Moiiut- 
 gomery^ 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 Block, 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 \vas wont to 
 say, was he asleep seven years, and 
 then awakened, he would tell where 
 the King everv day had been, and every 
 dish he had had at his Table. 
 
 He was not very uxorious, though he 
 had a very brave Qiieen 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 1. 
 
 furthest from the Qiieen, and that was 
 thought to be the tirst grounds of his 
 often removes which afterwards proved 
 habitual. lie 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 
 naturallv loved not the sight of a Soldier, 
 nor of any valiant man. . . . He was 
 very witty, and had as many witty jests 
 as anv man living at which he would 
 not smile himself, but deliver them in 
 a grave and serious manner. He was 
 \er\ liberal, of what he had not in his 
 own gripe, and woidd rather part with 
 .£ioo 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' purses, 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 
 
 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- 
 incr 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 
 
 would not impute them as sins. ... do we not deny God and adore the 
 He was infinitely inclined to prayer. Devil as they do .'' 
 
 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 
 Pacijica. 
 
 3. A Counterblast to Tobacco. 
 Pamphlet written by James I. (In 
 Arber I'^nglish Reprints. London, 
 1S69.) Spelling modernized. 
 
 . . . And now good Countrymen let 
 us (I pray you) consider, what honor 
 
 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 
 l>y 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- 
 <liately 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 gciieral 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 anv 
 new form of apparel but that he cannot 
 l)e 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 
 pufhng 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 verv 
 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] divert men, very sound 
 botli in judgment and complexion, liave 
 been at last forced to take it also with- 
 out desire, partly because they were 
 ashamed to seem singular . . . and 
 partlv 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 w-ill 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. 
 
 Aazv of King Jaw cs to restrict tJie C/se 
 of T^obacco. ( In Arhcr.) 
 
 Oct. 17, 1604. 
 . . . Whereas Tobacco ... is now 
 at this day, through evil custom and the 
 toleration thereof, excessively taken by 
 a number of riotous antl disordered 
 persons of mean and base condition 
 who . . . do spend most of their time 
 in that idle vanity, to tlie evil example 
 and corrupting of others, and also do 
 consume that wages which manv of 
 them get bv their labor, and wherewith 
 their families should be relieved, not 
 caring at what price they buy that drug, 
 but rather devising how tf) add to it 
 other mixture, therebv 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 imfit for labor, the 
 estates of many mean persons so decayed 
 and consvmied 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, Conti"ollers, 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. TJiojnas 
 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. 1S14, p. 45.) 
 
 The fearful abounding at this time 
 [^^97]? i" this 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 joress 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 ijot 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 Tear 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 eveiy 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 sanctuarv. 
 
 5. Letter of Sir John Harrington to 
 Sir Amyas Pauk-tt. (In Jesse, Me- 
 moirs of the Court of England under 
 the Stuarts. Vol. I. p. 70.) 
 
 January, 16 10. 
 My Loving Cousin : It hehoveth 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 
 followeth : — 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 pliilos- 
 ophy, and uttered profound sentences 
 of Aristotle and such like writers, 
 which I had never read and which 
 some are bold enough to sav others do 
 not understand ; but this I pass bv. 
 The prince tlid now press my reading 
 to him part of a canto of Ariosto ; 
 prai>-eil mv utterance, and said lie had 
 
 been informed of many as to my learn- 
 ing in the time of the Qiieen. 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 mv soul's hurt. We next dis-
 
 James I. 
 
 41 
 
 coursed somewhat upon religion, when 
 at length he said : "• Now, sir, vou 
 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 fmd 
 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 w'aiteth 
 for my letter to bear to you, from your 
 old neighboi, 
 
 Friend and Cousin, 
 JoHX Harrington. 
 
 6. Letters of John Chamberlain. 
 Esq., to Sir Dudley Carleton. (In 
 Court and Times of James I. Vol. II. 
 p. 115.) 
 
 London, Dec. 20th, 16 iS. 
 
 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 
 sorr\ to hear that he grows ever} 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 Qiieen], 
 which was but a drawling, tedious 
 sight, more remarkable for number 
 than for any other singularity, there 
 being 2S0 poor women, besides an 
 army of men fellows, that were serv- 
 ants to the lords, and others of the 
 train. And, though tlie 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 
 ladv having twelve yards of bi'oad 
 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 T. 
 
 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 
 casti guccris, in eodcm res pondcre 
 teneris, for I would be sorry not to be 
 as constant indeed as she was that 
 called herself semper eadcm , indeed 
 ve 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 corum 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. 1605 A. D. 
 
 I. Account of Fathei" John Gerard. 
 (In "The Condition of Catholics under 
 James by John JMorris." Loud., 1S71, 
 p. 96.) 
 
 [Father Gei^ard 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 \vho 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 and 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 
 and doubtful mysteries, as also because 
 the more time would in the meanwhile 
 be 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 AU-IIallow-day 
 which was the day after His Majesty's 
 arrival ivum Royston, where he had 
 been at his hunting exercise, and was 
 come up to London to be present at the 
 begimiing of the Parliainent. 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 deepljer than he looked 
 for, knowing his nature, told him that 
 he thought by one sentence in it, tliat 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. IJut 
 the King by the contrary, considering 
 the former sentence in the letter, "That 
 they should receive a terrible blow at 
 this Parliament, and yet shouli' 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 
 wdiatsoever 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, 
 w^hich should be as quickly performed 
 and at an end, as that paper should be 
 of l)lazing up in the fire, turning the 
 word of "as soon " to the sense of " as 
 quickly;" and therefore His Majesty 
 wished that befoi'e 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 whqn 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. Hut 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 Chamberhiin 
 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 a)id ended also the next 
 day) Sir Thomas Knevet, a gentleman 
 of His ]\Lajesty's Privy chamber, w^as 
 sent to search the place at midnight 
 under pretence of looking for some 
 other things as w\as before devised. 
 When he came to the Parliament House 
 before his entry into JMr. 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 l>lown 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 
 laving 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, 
 wliether 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 liim, and how 
 begun and prosecuted, as I have before 
 declared ; yet I cannot find by his con- 
 fession which is jniblished in print, 
 that he named al)ove 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 (Juv I'awkes. 
 (From the (Junpowdt-r Treason, 
 Lond., 1^)79.) 
 
 I confess that a jiractice in general 
 was first broken unto me against his 
 Majestv for relief of the Catiioliciue 
 cause, and not iinented or propounded 
 by mvself. And this was first pro- 
 pounded unto me al)out 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 
 tiiree 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 
 iith 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, ^vhich 
 was about three yards tliick, and found 
 it a matter of great difficulty, we took 
 unto us another gentleman, Robert 
 Winter, in like manner, ^vith oath and 
 sacrament as aforesaid. 
 
 It was about Christmas when we 
 l)rought 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 se\en 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 workin<2^ upon the wall, 
 they heard a rushing in a cellar of re- 
 movinj^ 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 brouglit 
 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 
 tlie person of the Ladv Elizabeth 
 [Later Qiieen 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 partv 
 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 
 enougli) we resolved to serve our turn 
 with the Lady Elizabeth. 
 
 GROUP VII. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE OK THE PRINCESS ?:MZAnETH TO THE COV\T 1>AI,ATINE. 
 
 Extracts from the Letters of John 
 Chamberlain, Esq., to Sir Dudley Carle- 
 ton. (In Court and Times of James 
 I., London, 1S4S, pp. IS7-) 
 
 Jan. 2Sth, 161 2. 
 . . . 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 lialh 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 tliem in suspense. 
 
 October 2 2d. 
 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 anil prosperous passage ;
 
 48 
 
 James I 
 
 for coming from the Hague on Thurs- 
 day, at eleven o'clock, he emharked 
 that evening at Maesland Sluice, and 
 the next night, aliout ten, landed at 
 Gravesend, where he continued all 
 Saturday ; and on vSunday 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. Theprince [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 
 gracefullv, 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 £iSoo upon him. From 
 tiicnce he was conveyed through the 
 privy lodgings and galleries to the 
 water, and so to Essex House, where 
 he 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 vmcle, and others of 
 his company do, but oidy in her con- 
 versation. ( )n Tnisday 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 mnn- 
 
 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 
 .£[60,000 a year, besides provisions, 
 which amount to half as much more, 
 and his charge and expense not answer- 
 able to theirs. . . . 
 
 Nov. 4th, 161 2. 
 . . . 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 by 
 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 wore invited and piomised to the 
 loiil mayor's feast on Thursday last.
 
 (/I ' 

 
 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 tlie city with a 
 fair standing cup, a curious basin and 
 ewer, with two large livery pots, weigh- 
 ing altogether i 200 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, 161 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 tjth 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 deploratiis. 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 
 vitalls 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, 161 2. 
 
 . . . 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.
 
 50 
 
 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 tiancing 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, pracire conccptis 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 tlic 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 JoJni Cliamberlain, Esq.^ 
 to Mrs. Car let on. 
 
 London, February iS, 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. 
 
 SI 
 
 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 dav, 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 w^e found a noble 
 window reserved in the Jewel House, 
 wdiich 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 surticiently 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 lii<e a horseman, that he 
 was exceedingly commended, and had 
 manv 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 Xorthumberland's daughter 
 was verv gallant, and the Lord Monta- 
 cute, that hath paid reasonably well for 
 recusancy, bestowed fifteen hundred 
 pounds in apparel for his two daugli- 
 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 tUe Rolls all up Fleet Street 
 and the Strand, and matle such a gal- 
 lant and glorious show, that it is highly 
 commended. They had forty gentle- 
 men of Ijcst 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 jicr- 
 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 stootl 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 
 sav 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 imdertakers. 
 
 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 tliat went before them ; but in de- 
 vice, daintiness of apparel and, aboveall,
 
 James I 
 
 S3 
 
 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, 
 wdien 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 moi^e 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. 
 
 yohn Chamberlain Hsq. to Sir Dud- 
 ley Carleton. 
 
 LoxDox, Fel)ruary 25, 161 2-13. 
 
 The KinsT went awav on Mondav 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 atite ambidores^ 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 accoglioiza 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 bv 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 monev. 
 
 Extracts from Letters to the Rev. 
 Joseph Mead. (In Court and Times 
 of T'inics L 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 tlie first 
 time, but his majesty stayed it. 
 
 Yesterday, the king and tlie 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 sliould be executed ; 
 otherwise, there should be a punish- 
 ment equivalent to that they had set 
 down. Which gave good content. . . . 
 
 June 1 , 1621. 
 On Saturdav last, tlie lords of tht- 
 
 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 
 £^,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. I ith. 
 . . . 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. Til o mas Locke to Sir Dudley 
 Carlctoii. 
 
 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 ujion the 
 rack,and they say it will cost him his life.
 
 James I. 
 
 55 
 
 GROUP VIII. 
 
 THE SPANISH MARRIAGE-PROJECT. 
 
 Extracts from Private Letters. (In 
 Court and Times of James I. Ed. by 
 author of Sophia Dorothea. London, 
 
 1S48.) 
 
 Rev. Joseph Mead to Sir Martin 
 Stiiteville. 
 
 Christ College, March i, 1622-3. 
 
 When I wrote my last, I was not 
 then fully persuaded of the prince's 
 [Charles L] 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, " Supernactilum ! Siipernacii- 
 lum ! " . . . 
 
 yoJni Chamberlain to Dudley 
 Car let on. 
 
 London, March S, 1622-3. 
 We have little certainty of the prince's 
 journey since his going hence, but only 
 
 tliat 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 
 Aladrid. . . . 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. 
 
 markablc mirth thereat. He hiughed 
 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, 
 tliat 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 tlicy should avoid 
 to meet it if they could : if not, they 
 must ilo 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. 
 
 Joiin Cliat)ihcrlai)i to Dudley 
 Car/ctofi. 
 London, March 21st, 1622-3. 
 . . . For want of other matter, I 
 send vou here certain verses made upon 
 Jack's and Tom's journey; for the 
 prince and marcjuis went through Kent 
 luidcr 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 hearil of the prince came 
 this day sevennight from Walsingham 
 Greisley . . . who met them tlie 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 connnit and cast himself into 
 their hands may work, is uncertain. 
 . . . The young Lord Compton hath 
 charge of the jewels that arc to be sent 
 and presented ; which are the choice of 
 
 all in the Tower, and estimated at 
 £300,000; but, by the moi^e moderate, 
 at £So,ooo. There is a continual 
 posting, likewise, through France, 
 which, together with the expense that 
 the others must make from the sea-side 
 to ^Ladrid, 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 1S-2S, 1622-3. 
 
 You shall iniderstand 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 pri\ate meeting in the 
 fields, hard by the town. He lay ten 
 days at my Lord of Bristol's house, 
 and yesterday he matle 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 coimcils, came to accompany him, 
 and it was decreed by the council of 
 Slate, that tlu- King should give him 
 tile hand at all meetings. 
 
 He went in the same form and state 
 tliat the Kings of Spain do at their 
 coronation. It is beyond imagination,
 
 James I. 
 
 57 
 
 to think what shouts and acclamations 
 of joy ran amon<:jst the people, crying, 
 "Vive el Princesse d' Ingilterra ! " 
 He is now in the palace, attended by 
 Spaniai'ds, 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 oflices 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, 1633. 
 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 ; Init he should have all 
 that he would, and the country could 
 afford. Vea, 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. . . .
 
 S8 
 
 James I. 
 
 To tJie Same. 
 Loiulon, April nth, 1623. 
 With tlie first aiul hist ships, there 
 went, amongst others of the prince's 
 senants, 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 anil fair 
 ambling geldings, of tlie 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 
 Carleion. 
 
 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 coming, 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 
 inuch to talk of the prince's journey. 
 
 May 3r(l. 
 . . . 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, l)cing given out to be £600,000, 
 it will make a great breach into the 
 crown land, which hath been so much 
 weakened ;ih<.;i(lv, and this must be 
 confirmed by Parliaineut ; with divers 
 other prerogatives and privileges she is 
 to have more than ever C^ueen of I'^ng- 
 land had. . . . The Heet is preparing 
 with all speed, and the prince's ship so 
 richlv 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. . . . 
 
 J\ev. Joseph Mead to Sir Martin 
 Stuteville. 
 Christ College, May 24, 1623. 
 
 . . . All the prince's servants, cliap- 
 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 
 om- 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 tile image of the Virgin Mai\ . when 
 sujipliants l)()w to her on festival days. 
 This, they say, is the Spanish state. 
 lie coinplinieiited with her, but what 
 she answered is not told. This I had 
 from Dr. Halcanqual's brother, and he 
 from him. 
 
 May 30th, 1623. 
 
 . . . Tlie Lord Lcppington landed 
 tliis 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 Alead to Sir ^lartin 
 Stitteville. 
 
 Christ College, June 3i, 1623. 
 
 . . . God send our prince home 
 again : for the forenamed Mr. Elliot 
 told, sub sigillo^i 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 
 Stiiteville. 
 
 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 vet 
 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. . . . 
 
 JoJni 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. . . . 
 
 7^0 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 w^ould 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. . . . 
 
 Joint 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 liimself 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 I, 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.
 
 r .
 
 Charles I. 
 
 6i 
 
 GROUP IX. 
 
 CHARLES I. AND HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE. 
 
 1 . 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- 
 traordinaiy, to find her, as I protest 
 before God I did, the sweetest creature 
 in France. Her growth is very little 
 short of her age (1^)1 i>"t^ 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. 
 
 . . . Thcjiancaillcs 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 
 live and twenty : all their coaches fur- 
 nished with six horses, which comes 
 altogether now in fashion ; a vanity of 
 excessive charge, and of little use. 
 
 Dr. Mcddus to Rev. Joseph Mead. 
 London, June 17th, 1625. 
 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 vSunday, 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. 
 
 Rxtract from another letter^ savic 
 date. 
 
 The priests have been very importu- 
 nate to have the chapel finished at St. 
 James's, but thcv fnid the king very 
 slow in doing tliat. 11 is answer (some 
 told nic) was, that if tlic (|ucen'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, they 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 Chafnberlain to Sir Dudley 
 Carleton , 
 
 June 35th. 
 
 . . . 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 Aiitob iography of 
 
 Sir Simonds d' Exves. (London., 
 
 J 845- Vol. I. p. 272.) 
 
 1635. 
 On Thursday, the 30th and last day 
 of this instant June, I went to White- 
 hall purposely to see the Qiieen ; which 
 I did fully all the time she sat at din- 
 ner, and perceived her to be a most ab- 
 solute delicate Indy, after I had exactly 
 surveyed all the features of her face, 
 much enlivened by her radiant and 
 sp;irkling 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 
 Sttiteville. 
 
 July 3nd, 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 ovei- 
 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 i8th 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, instantlv rose 
 from the table, and, taking the queen by 
 the hand, retired into the bedchamber. 
 Was not this a priestly discretion ? 
 
 Dec. 17th, 162^ 
 . . . The king will keep his Christ- 
 mas, they say, at Whitehall, and re- 
 moves on Thursday. On Tuesday last, 
 I am told, the queen w^as 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. I 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 
 
 Stutevillc. 
 
 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 1st, 1626. 
 . . . On Monday, about three in the 
 afternoon, tlie king, passing into the 
 queen's side [of the palace], and find- 
 ing some Frenchmen, her sei-v'ants, 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 Qiieen ; 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 
 Qiieen'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 his 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, 
 
 6s 
 
 heard some affirm, went thither, and 
 made a speech to them to this purpose : 
 that lie hoped the good king, his 
 brother of France, woiikl not take 
 amiss what he had done , for the 
 French he said, (particuUir 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 liis treasurei 
 to reward every one of them for their 
 year's service. So the next morning, 
 being Tuesday, there was distributed 
 among tliem £ii,ooo, 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 France, 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 ai'e 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 hooters 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 Buckinghmn r •' 1 
 coinniaiid you to send all the French away to-morrow 
 out of town, if you can, by fair means, but stick not 
 lonsr in di-^putin);; 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 tJic 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. 1 1. 
 
 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 
 j£)4,ooo for necessaries of the queen ; a 
 second was the apothecary's bill of 
 £Soo, 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 h;id done so many wrongs, as 
 he should never see his face more. 
 
 Description of Qiieen 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 L 
 
 67 
 
 GROUP X. 
 
 PARLIAMENTARV GRIE\ANCES AGAIXST CITARLES I. 
 
 I. Extracts from the Autobiography 
 of Sir Simonds d'Ewes (London, 
 1S45.) 
 
 1625. 
 
 . . . The present parliament, whicli 
 had been adjourned or prorogued on 
 July the nth, at London, to begin 
 again at Oxford on August the ist, 
 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, 1S53. Vol. L) 
 [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- 
 ploymcnt 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 ahnost destroyed, by a 
 foreign power, than to be despised by 
 his own subjects. And liids them re- 
 member, that the calling, sitting and 
 dissolving of parliaments was in liis 
 power. . . . 
 
 At a conference with the lords, tiie 
 commons sent up an impeachment 
 against the duke of Bucks [B icking- 
 ham], managed by eiglit 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 otfice 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 Mr. Sher- 
 land enlarged, and computed the sum 
 of his gifts to £284, 39^. XIII. The 
 plaster and potions which the duke 
 caused to be given to king James in 
 his sickness, a transcendent presiunp- 
 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 IClliot 
 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, particidarly in France, they hat! 
 formeiiy parliaments, as we have, but 
 when their parliamentary liberty was 
 turnetl into tumultuary license, and 
 their kings found how those councils 
 endeavored to curb them, they took 
 awav 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 ccwi- 
 cerning the king's taking of tunnage 
 and poundage, though not granted to 
 him by parliament. . . . The parlia- 
 ment was dissolved June 15th, 1626, 
 inihappilv. 
 
 Thus this great, warm, and ruffiing 
 j^arliament had its period. 
 
 Letter of Sir Simo)ids d' It'ces to Sir 
 Martin Stuteville. 
 
 May 1 1 . 
 
 . . . 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' 
 Autobiography. 
 
 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 
 
 Stiitcville. 
 
 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 ifi 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 pouml, 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 ; whOj 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 ovei'throw 
 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 ciuoted Scripture to them 
 mightily. Of these aforementioned 
 were those, who at the first, when the 
 subsidies were demanded, cried out for 
 a parliament. 
 
 Unsig}icd Letter front Lo)idon. 
 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 t^entle- 
 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 
 onlv 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 followeth : 
 
 " Sir — Will \()U 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 tiie 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 sliall 
 have a ril)and, 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 fro/n London. 
 
 March i6th, 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 likelv to proceed ; 
 the particulars whereof, with tlie pro- 
 jectors, you shall know hereafter. 
 
 Letter to the Rev. Joseph Mead. 
 
 Nov. 23, 1627. 
 
 There is a new loan of 1 20 or 
 JC 1 50,000 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 ^Lead to Sir JLartin 
 Stutevii/e. 
 
 Candlemas Day, Feb. 2nd, 1627-S. 
 
 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 the 
 first place ; namely, that after many 
 projects consulted upon, as base coin, 
 whereof every man to receive a share, 
 and an impost of two sliilliii<gs 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 
 disasfreement.
 
 Charles I. 
 
 71 
 
 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 2Sth, 162S. 
 
 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 liis 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 sul)sidics, 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 Ivlwaid 
 Coke said publicly, that no king of 
 England ever had the like offer made 
 him bv his subjects ; nor ever King 
 CiuMstian denied his subjects so reason- 
 al)le and c'(|ual rccjuest. That they 
 meddled neither with favourite or cour- 
 tier ; but onlv desired a confirmation of 
 the liberties granted and cnjoved 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, 162S. 
 
 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 
 iiaming 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 l!,e 
 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 tliose that wept, and 
 ex];)ressing their bold and ct)Uiageous 
 resolutions against the enemies of the 
 king and kingdom.
 
 GEUKCiK Vll.I.IIiUS. DUKK UF IJUCKl NC. II AM. 
 (Tlu' original painting is by \'an iler Werlt.)
 
 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 
 bv 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, w4ien 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. Thev were then calling to the 
 question, when the speaker came in, but 
 then stayed to hear his message. . . . 
 
 June 2ist, Saturday, 162S. 
 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 wiih 
 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 Rochelle, 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 Qiieen. (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 w^as four 
 miles of) having about him diverse 
 Lords, Colonclls and Captains, and 
 man\- 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- 
 hiine " 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 
 oversway'd with some apoplexie, till 
 thev saw the blood come gushing from 
 his moutli and the wound, soe fast, that 
 life and breath at once left his begored 
 body. Maddam, you may easily guesse 
 what outcryes wei-e then made, by us 
 that were Com maunders 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 nnn-dered him, and by meanes 
 of tlie 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 h(jpe never 
 to hear the like againe. 
 
 6. Extract from the Autobiography 
 of Sir vSimonds d'Evves. 
 
 162S. 
 
 Some of ills friends had advised him 
 [Buckingham] how generally he was 
 hated in England, and how needful it 
 
 w^ould 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; the.re 
 are no Roman spirits left." iVugust 
 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 awaj- to the 
 king, who lay at Reswick, some five 
 miles distant, to have some speedy con- 
 ference w'ith 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 quaiter 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 Puckcrim^. 
 Jan. 12, 1 63 1-2. 
 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. . . . 
 
 J//'. 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'Evves. [Written in 
 163S.] 
 
 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 monev 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 t!ie 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 
 liondsmen and villains of England, if 
 their estates be subject to arbitrary 
 taxes, tallages and impositions? . . »
 
 76 
 
 Charles 1. 
 
 In all my life I never saw so many sail 
 faces in England as this new taxation, 
 called ship-money, occasioned; nay, 
 the gi-ief 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 ISIr. 
 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 overvvise 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: ist. 
 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 onh'. But yet these aids are not 
 like this ship-monev. 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, 1S70, 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 theve 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. 
 
 n 
 
 Castlecoule, in tlie county of Fer- 
 managh, knowing of tlie 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 foiu" 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 followeth, " 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 loth 
 of May, 164 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. Bailiie, Letters 
 and Journals. (Edinb., 1841 . Vol.1., 
 p. 314.) [Relating to the Trial of 
 Strafford by the Parliament. Begun 
 Monday, March 22nd, 1640— i.] 
 
 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, Ivned with the same whyte ermin 
 skinnes, 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 Qiieen 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 vovd 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 
 tlie tlirone, 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 ALar\-, 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 sucli 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 Hesh and bread, bottles of beer and
 
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 Charles I. 
 
 79 
 
 wine going thick from mouth to mouth 
 without cups, and all th''s 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 liours 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 1)y 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. 
 Whenit 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. 
 iSio.) 
 
 . . . 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. 
 
 Wy 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 oursehes 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 \valls, quite forgotten 
 and neglected. . . . 
 
 !My lords, I have now troubled vou 
 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 
 
 8i 
 
 that the afflictions of this Hfe 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. 
 
 1 64 1. 
 
 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 i-emorse 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 I. 
 
 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 clamoui-s 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 admind 
 [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 itien^for in 
 til cm 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 witliout first accjuaint- 
 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., 1S70. Vol. I. p, 2S2 
 
 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 IMajesty 
 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 ISIr. 
 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 vour 
 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 jSIarks- 
 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 IMajesty to the House of Commons 
 on Tuesdav 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, IMr. 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 thev 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 sucli 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; ytt it 
 is certain enougli, 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. Pvm 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 of 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. . . . 
 
 Tlie 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 adlierence to the parliament. . . . 
 
 Tiie 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.]
 
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 Charles I 
 
 85 
 
 GROUP XL 
 
 TRIAL AND EXECUTION' OK CHARLES I. 
 
 I. Extracts from Whitelocke, 164S- 
 
 9 A. D. 
 
 . . . This morning Sir Tlionias Wid- 
 drington and I being togetlier, 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 ami 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, T'/iai it was 
 treaso7i iti the king to levy Tvai- 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 thev had rejected the ordinance for 
 trial of the 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 f >r 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 \vitli 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 Oycs, 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 
 sav, 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 mv reasons yet. 
 President. Sir, your reasons are not to be 
 heard ag;iinst 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; 30U 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 
 jou, 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, 164S-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 vaaOte., Justice, Justice ! 
 Exccjition., exec7itionl This was by 
 some soldiers and others of the rabble. 
 
 After this the clerk was coinmanded 
 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 tyraiit, 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 tumulttious 
 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 
 Armes in Westminster Hall, the old 
 Exchange, etc., to summon \\\ 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 : 
 TJie Jirst yea re of JFreedome, 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-
 
 S8 
 
 Charles I. 
 
 faced SoUicitor, one Cook, accuseth him 
 in the name of the Commons of Eng- 
 hmd, and of all tiie people thereof 
 (which God knows was not one of a 
 thousand) of treason : charging him 
 that bv a tvrannicall power he iiad 
 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 
 authoritv to be over him. . . . 
 
 But after all, these nefaricnis men, 
 who thirsted after the King's blood, 
 would now brutishlv suck it : so then 
 give sentence upon him to sever his 
 head from his body, wdiich sentence 
 passed on Saturday, January, 164S ; 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 Otficers. 
 
 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- 
 fest 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 sccmeil 
 unconcerned; yet told the Bishop, It 
 really made a great impression upon 
 him, and to this hour (sayes he) I know 
 not possiblv how it should come. T' was 
 an accident, 1 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 i"ecom mended 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 obsen-ed 
 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, 1S15, p. 1S3. ) 
 
 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- 
 wliat disturb'd in sleep, but calling him, 
 bad him rise; For, (said his Majcstx ) I 
 will get up, having a great Work to do 
 this Day; . . . He then appointed what 
 Cloaths lie would wear; ''Let me have
 
 Charles I 
 
 89 
 
 a Shirt 011 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 wonld 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 mv 
 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 
 I'le 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 Ihe 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 
 
 gooti ciu-e, and I have a gracious God: I 
 
 will s V 110 more. 
 
 Then turning to colonel Hacker, he 
 said. 
 
 Take care that they do not put me to pain, 
 and, sir, this, and it please \ou. 
 
 Then a gentlemen coming near the 
 axe, the king said. 
 
 Take heed of the axe, pray take heed of the 
 axe. 
 
 Then he said to the executioner, 
 
 I shall sav 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, whicli 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 colhn, covered with black 
 velvet, and removed to his lodging 
 chamber in Whitehall. At this scene
 
 90 
 
 Charles 1 
 
 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 iSIilton. (Qiioted 
 in Harris, Charles I., p. -4S4.) 
 
 If you say that Charles died as he 
 lived, I agree with you : if you saj- 
 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 unexcmplary 
 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 nol)le military art) with his servant 
 a minister, both masked were those 
 who cut the thread of His Majestic' 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 i ith Marche, Thursday. 
 
 ^. Letter of lames Howell to Sir 
 WHliam Hoswell. (In Howell's Fa- 
 miliar Letters, London 1S92, Vol. 11. 
 
 P- 55-) 
 
 Sir, That black Tragedy which was 
 latelv acted here, as it hath filled most 
 hearts amonsf 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 rvnninate upon it, the 
 more it astonisheth my imap^ination, 
 and shaketh all the cells of my Brain ; 
 so that sometimes I struggle with my 
 Faith, and have much ado to lielieve 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. ... 
 
 Vour most hujnble servitor 
 
 Fleet, 20 March, 164S. 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. 
 
 34I-) 
 
 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 thev 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 Rosemarv 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 wei-e soon 
 made manifest, for 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 |;^ at one tiling 
 or another, which he conceived to ap- 
 pear visible before him. 
 
 About three days before he (\\' (\. he 
 lay speechlesse, uttering manv 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 ; " 
 otliers pressing upon him, saying, they 
 would quarter him f(jr executing of
 
 92 
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 the king : insomuch, that tlie church- 
 wardens and Masters of the Parish were 
 fain to come for the suppressing of 
 them, and (with great difficuUy) he 
 was at last carryed to White Chappell 
 Church-vard, 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 
 saine in p'eccs, and to every feather 
 tieil 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, 
 bv 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 
 wavted upon him, was a ragman (of 
 the name of Ralph Jones) living in 
 Rosemary Lane. 
 
 GROUP XIL 
 
 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 rigi<^1- 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 
 pla'n cloth-sute, which seemed to have 
 bin made by an ill country-taylor ; his 
 linen was plain and not very ck'an ; 
 and I remember a speck or two of 
 blood 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 libells 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 mv reverence 
 unto that great coimcill ; 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 (Init usurpt) power: (having had
 
 i-iiijiiiij^L^a 
 
 
 gn 
 
 ^ y, 
 
 < y. 
 
 > ^
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 93 
 
 a better taylor, and more converse 
 among good :ompany) 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 extraoi'dinarily 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). 
 
 164S. 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 ministei's, at a dinner in Westmin- 
 ster, under pretence of ende ivoring a 
 reconciliation between the two parties. 
 . . . Another conference he contrived 
 to be held in King Street between those 
 called the grandt-es of the house and 
 armv, and the Commonwealths-men. 
 . . . The Commonwealths-men de- 
 claretl 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 w'as 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. 
 
 16^1. 
 
 . . . 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 sav 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. 
 
 1653, April 20. 
 
 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 thev 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 l)c put, he said again to 
 Major-(jcncral Harrison, 'This is the 
 time I must do it ; ' and suddenly stand- 
 ing up, made a speech, wherein he 
 loaded the Parliament witli 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 other 
 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 
 vour 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 
 mor;ilitv 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 witli 
 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 hiin to remain there. The Speaker 
 answered that he would not come down 
 unless he were forced. ' Sir,' said 
 Harrison, ' I will lend vou 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 
 this work.' . . . 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-oflicers was summoned, 
 where Major-General Lambert having 
 rehearsed the several steps and degrees 
 bv which things had l)een 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 I'ead 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 wliatso- 
 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 
 nothine more. 
 
 3. vSpeech 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- 
 -•jst. . . . 
 
 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 manv that have gone before 
 coidd 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 
 lav 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 vou, to have a sweet, gracious, and 
 holy understanding one of another, and 
 put you in mind of the covmsel you 
 heard this day in order thereunto. And 
 I desire you to believe that I speak not 
 to you as one that w^ould 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, 1S2S.) 
 
 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.
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 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 onlv 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 ; bi t 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, vcrinn, ct bonitin. 
 
 The ve7-u>u^ 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 bo7iJiin of it, 
 whether it were now convenient or ex- 
 pedient, per /lie ct 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 
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 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 bv Commis- 
 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 
 lieing 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 wliat
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 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 complv 
 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. loth, 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 it, as nothing now that we 
 could do, subsequently, could cure it. 
 We had, as much as a vote could do, 
 unmade the Protector. vSo 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-partv, 
 but in gi'eat 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, 
 
 I. To change the word "give" 
 [Parliament shall think iit to give a 
 negative, etc.] into " declare." 
 
 3. Whereas Parliament is named 
 alone in the proviso to declare the 
 negatives, it was desired that the sin- 
 gle person might lie 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
 
 lOO 
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 carried such .1 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 piitarem ; for such as sate 
 there were all supposed to be wise men, 
 et incipieritis est^ dlccre non piitarem^ 
 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, t.irtly enough, upon that 
 old ground of nemo viortaUum omnihns 
 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. 
 Tlie gentleman that spoke before, had 
 done it for him. 
 
 After they had made themselves a 
 little merry with these puns, at length 
 thcv 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. 
 
 1655- 
 
 . . . (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 m} self 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 though'i 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 1, ' 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
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 lOI 
 
 for one in your condition.' I answeretl 
 that it was as nnich as T could consent 
 to give. . . . 
 
 1656. 
 
 . . . About tlie 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 ever\' 
 step he had lately taken to strengthen 
 the common enemy, whereby he would 
 undoubtedly open a way for the I'eturn 
 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. 
 
 V Extracts from Evelyn's Diary. 
 April 9, 1655. 
 
 I went to see ye greate ship newly 
 built by the usurper Oliver, carrying 
 96 brasse gims, and 1000 tons burthen. 
 
 In ye prow was Oliver on horseback, 
 trampling 6 nations under foote, a 
 vScott, 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 xvith us. 
 
 March 25th, 16^7. 
 . . . 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 armv. 
 
 Dec. 35th, 16^7. 
 
 ... I went to London with my 
 wife, to celebrate Christmas-dav, Mr. 
 Gunning preaching. . . . As he was 
 giving us ye holy sacrament, the chap- 
 ell w\as 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 name and abode, exam- 
 in'd me why, contrary to an ordinance 
 made that none should anv 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 mc, they dismissed 
 me with much pitty of my ignorance.
 
 I02 
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 These were men of liigh 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 dav, blessed be God. 
 
 6. Extracts from Ludlow. 
 
 165S. 
 
 . . . 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 mv 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 coidd 
 reach no farther than Epping that 
 night. By this means I arrived not at 
 
 Westminster till Tuesday about noon, 
 when passing bv 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 fainily 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 unw^illing 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 manv 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
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 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 
 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 wai"drobe, 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 l)eing 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 \vere 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 pageantr}', 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.
 
 104 
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 GROUP XIII. 
 
 SPECIMENS OF PARLIAMENTARY PROCEEDINGS UNDER THE COMMONWEALTH. 
 
 Extracts from Goddard's and Bur- 
 ton's Diaries. (London, 1S2S.) 
 
 Tuesday, Oct. 7, 1656. 
 
 Resolved, that the consideration of 
 the hiws 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, i6th. 
 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 Seijeant 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 tliis 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 witli his mace . . . went 
 up to the Painted Chamber; where his
 
 
 
 'l!lini!iwiiiiii!iiiiiif
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 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 i^est 
 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 0)isloiv and Mr. High- 
 land. If you make new wanderers and 
 vagabonds, other than ever our ancestors 
 knew of, let us know what they are. . . . 
 Bv these tcrmi)iis frcncralibus^ anv man 
 
 may be adjudged bv the justice to be a 
 vagrant. 
 
 Colonel Edxvard.s. Tliey ha\e cliain 
 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 
 Qiiakers, who greatly increase, and 
 pester and endanger the Common- 
 wealth. 
 
 Major Audley. Ascertain what this 
 individunni vagitm is, lest it be quidani 
 hotno., 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 Footc. I hope you in- 
 tend not to include the ivaits of the 
 City of London, which are a great 
 preservation of men's houses in the 
 night. 
 
 Sir William Strickla?id. The gen- 
 ei-al 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. . . . 
 
 M'-. Bampjield offered a report from 
 James Nayler's Connnittee. . . .
 
 io6 
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 A Short history of Nayler' s Life. 
 
 ... 4. After lie (Nayler) had been 
 up and down, he went to visit the 
 Qiiakers in Cornwall, where he was 
 committed as a \vanderer. . . . 
 
 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, iimim 
 necessariuni . 
 
 It has been always my opinion, that 
 the growth of these things is more dan- 
 oferous 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 
 mv 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 Govei-nment, 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. Do-Juni7ig. . . . 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. . . .
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 107 
 
 Mr. Bampjield. ... 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 vv^hole 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 -y 11 s 1 1 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. Bampjield. 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. Crake. . . . 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. Do-jcning. 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. S. 
 
 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 
 Avhich 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 take 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, vet 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 glorv., you 
 will hang a good many. . . . Read the 
 Report over, and let every man give his 
 reasons why such a part is blasphemy. 
 
 M^ajor 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 may be 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 familv, and the beggars at the 
 gates. Here was a law made, both £or 
 the offence and the punishment. . . . 
 
 Colonel Sydenham. . . . These 
 Qiiakers, or Familists, affirm that 
 Christ dwells personally in every be- 
 liever. That wdiich 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 sav, 
 one half of the House are Qiiakers, 
 the other half, anti-Qiuikers. , . . 
 
 Dr. C/rt-r^t?^- [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 // 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 
 
 IO(> 
 
 Major- General Haines^ that his 
 tongue might be slit or bored through, 
 and that lie might be stigmatized with 
 the letter B. , . . 
 
 Major- General Whalley. Do not 
 cut off his hair; that will make the 
 people believe that tlie Parliament of 
 England are of opinion that our Sav- 
 iour Chri.st wore his hair so, and this 
 will make all people in love with the 
 fashion. . . . 
 
 Major- General Disbroivc. I doubt 
 if you slit his tongue, you mav endan- 
 ger his life. It will be a death of a 
 secret nature. 
 
 Mr. Do-vning 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 Aiidley. 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 J^oote^ 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 Gaffe, 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 IVm. 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 bv his dailv labour.
 
 no 
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 Dec. 25th. 
 
 . . . Col. JMatthe-vs. The House 
 is thin ; much, I believe, occasioned 
 by obser\-ation 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 dav'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 
 Aiidlev., and Sir Gilbert Pickering. 
 . . . You see how the people keep up 
 these superstitious obsei-vations to your 
 face. . . . One mav 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.] 
 
 . . . Major Audlcy. You ought 
 not to have denied this person [Xay- 
 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. Laic re nee . . . 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 vou ought to have done in 
 executing part of your sentence, or 
 vou have not. ... If you have done 
 what you cannot justify, you must be 
 whipped for whipping James Xayler. 
 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 
 vou, that the remainder of the punish- 
 ment might be remitted, and that would 
 give his Highness satisfaction. 
 
 Sir CJiristopher Peck. I shall ac- 
 quaint vou 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 He-vitson 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. . . . 
 
 Mr. Downing-. I am sorrs' we have 
 such a person in England as James Xay- 
 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 Bavncs. 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. 
 
 J/r. 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 Xayler for what is 
 passed, but to his Highness also, and 
 also to the nation. Here is your power 
 asserted on one hand ; the supi-eme mag- 
 istrate, on the other hand, desiring an 
 accoimt of your judgment. Where 
 shall there be tertius arbiter? It is 
 a hard case. Xo 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. 
 
 Mr. Attorney- General. Wc are 
 bound up by our own judgment, ^\'e 
 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.] . . . 
 
 Mr. Fo-.cell. . . . The House of 
 Commons have, by their judicatorv. 
 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 Qiieen 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 wav 
 to speak against the judgment. 
 
 J//'. Goodivin. ... I have heard of 
 a Parliament called Insa)ium Parlia- 
 mentiini. 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. Do-ctting-. My heart is verv 
 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 vou assert 
 not your own power, you will be a 
 matter of laughter, both to wise men 
 and fools. 
 
 Dec. 27. 
 
 Colonel MarkJiani. ... 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 th's House, I like not these 
 reflections. I desire the gentleman may 
 explain himself. 
 
 Colonel ^larkJiam 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 (lav 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. L hear it 
 will never be mentioned again ; if it 
 be^ L dread the consequence. Absit." 
 —Ed.] , . . 
 
 Jan. 14th, 1656-7. 
 . . . Robinson presented Hobbe's 
 Leviathaji to the Committee, as a most 
 poisonous piece of atheism. . . . 
 
 Jan. 19. . . . 
 
 Sir Gilbert Pickering and JMaJor- 
 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 Pickerijig. . , , 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 
 Davtd . . . whereon there hang a 
 thousand bucklers. — Ed.] . . . 
 
 Mr. Ashe, the elder. ... I 
 would have something else added, 
 which, in my opinion, would tend very
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 i'3 
 
 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.] ; 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. HigJiland. That gentleman 
 that moved this was one of those that 
 w^as 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 fatnjts. . . . 
 
 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 of it, was he, the mouth 
 
 of tlie 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 tw'elve 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
 
 114 
 
 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. 
 
 . . . J/r. Bampjield^ Major- Gen- 
 eral W/iallev, and Mr. Vincoit moved, 
 that the Bill for the Sabbath might be 
 read. . . . 
 
 Colonel I/o/Iaf/d. 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 GIvnn. 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. 
 
 Mr. Grove. The constable's voice 
 is well known, and no man can be 
 robbed under that jiretcnce. 
 
 Mr. Godfrey moved a proviso, to 
 limit the officers' entry only to taverns, 
 inns, etc. . . . 
 
 Mr. Vincent and Colonel Chadivick 
 were not satisfied with the proviso. It 
 was too short ; for, now a-davs, 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 wMll, 
 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. Foivell. I move to leave out 
 the whole clause. . . . 
 
 JMr. Bodiirda. . . . 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. J7ncent. 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 
 visual, 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 Master 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 Justice. ( ^uatenus 
 ipsnm.) 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; s&
 
 The Protectorate 
 
 115 
 
 there is no such derision in tliat. It 
 may cause discord, and prying amongst 
 neighbours, into the actions of one 
 another. xVnd this is still left in the 
 judgment of constables and head- 
 boroughs, who are generally bad all 
 the nation over. . . . 
 
 Colonel Briscoe. . . . Alan'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. 
 
 J/aj'or Btirton. You had as good 
 leave out the whole Bill as leave out 
 this clause. 
 
 J//-. 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, tlie House was divided. The 
 2'cas 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. 
 
 I. Extracts from Evelyn and Pepys. 
 Evelyn . 
 
 Oct. 22nd, 165S. 
 
 Saw ye superb funerall of ye Pro- 
 tector. He was carried from Somer.set 
 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-j^ie, 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 w-as 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. loth. 
 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 iiow 
 infamous and wretched a pack of knaves
 
 1 16 
 
 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 I ith. 
 . . . 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 niterest among 
 them, aiwl had his mind clear to bring 
 in tlic 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 11. 
 
 117 
 
 2:ik1. 
 
 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 I St. 
 
 To-da\- 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 
 JC50,coo 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 tliat 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, 
 bv which he will stand. The letter
 
 ii8 
 
 Charles II. 
 
 dated at Breda, April 4-14, 1660, in the 
 twelfth year of his reign. Upon the 
 receipt of it this moiiningby 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 
 quai"ter-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. . . . 
 
 Evelyyi . 
 
 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 vSir 
 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 £^05000 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 strew^ed 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. 
 
 i6th. 
 
 . . . 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, Pim and my boy, 
 to Scheveling, where we took coach, 
 and so to the Hague, where walking, 
 intending to find one that might show 
 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 Qiieen of Bohemia, 
 [the Winter Qiieen] 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. . . . 
 
 3 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 Qiteen of Bo- 
 hemia, Princess Royal, and Prince of 
 Orange, come on board, where I in 
 their coming in kissed the King's, 
 Qiieen' 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 
 w^hat 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
 
 I20 
 
 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 bov (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, oitizens, 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 th'ing 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. Sedng 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 hoi-se 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 w^ine ; 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 joyfull 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 iSth. 
 
 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.
 
 l'«terJ,f(rTt/a^ifin6 
 
 CHARLES II.
 
 Charles II. 
 
 121 
 
 July 5th. 
 I saw his Majestic go witli 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 gallow'S in baskets on the hurdle. 
 
 the miraculous providence of God ! 
 
 Pepys. 
 
 Oct. iSth. 
 This morning, it being expected that 
 Colonel Hacker and Axtel should die, 
 
 1 went to Newgate, but fovmd 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. 
 
 Evelyu . 
 
 Jan. 30th, 1 660- 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 Majestic, 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 dcepe pitt ; thousands 
 of people who had scene them in all
 
 J 22 
 
 Charles II. 
 
 their pride heins^ spectators. Looke 
 back at Nov, 2 2n(l, i6^S,* and be 
 astonish' d ! and feare God and honor 
 ye King; but meddle not with them 
 who are given to change ! . . . 
 
 May 22nd, 1 66 1. 
 The Scotch Covenant was burnt by 
 the common hangman in divers phices 
 in London. Oh prodigious change ! 
 
 Pcpys. 
 
 April 22nd, 1 66 1. 
 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 1 15. 
 
 Street, did lead a fine company of sol- 
 diers, all young comely men, in w'hite 
 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 gi'avelled, 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 witli 
 mv Lord. He talked with me about 
 my suit, which was made in France, 
 and cost him £200, and very rich it is 
 with embroiderv. 
 
 Coronation Day 
 
 23rd. 
 
 About four I rose and got to the 
 Abbey, wdiere 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 Abliey 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 
 bv my Lord Sandwich) and sword and 
 wand before him, and the crown too.
 
 Charles II. 
 
 12 
 
 
 
 The King in his robes, bai'eheaded, 
 Avhich \vas 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 cei-e- 
 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 ci'own) 
 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 
 clotli ; and scaffolds all the w^ay. 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 down at their several tables ; 
 and that was also a brave sight : and 
 the King's first course carried up b}" 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 Loixl 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 
 liave 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 flrewoi'ks, 
 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, 
 
 Extracts from Pepys's Diary. 
 
 166: 
 
 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 loth. 
 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 ii3, 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 38th. 
 
 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 IMortality 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 I St. 
 
 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 1 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. 
 L^p 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 hidy 
 were in a great strait what to do to get 
 her buried. At hist 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 ; w^iich 
 put the young gentleman into a fright 
 had almost cost him his life, but is now 
 well again. 
 
 August loth. 
 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 
 asfain. 
 
 3. Letter of John Sturgeon to Sir 
 Robert Harley, (In 14th report of 
 ]Ms. Commission. Appendix. Lond. 
 1S94.) 
 
 August 19, 1665. 
 (I and all mv children are in good 
 health notwithstanding that the plague 
 is round about us.) Six deving the 
 very nex wale to us. Heare are the 
 frequent alarums of death. Heai-e 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 Qiieenhithe, 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 I met none. 
 
 Aug. 22nd. 
 Up, and being importuned by my 
 wife and her two maids, which are 
 both good wenches, for me to buv 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 cofHn with a dead body therein, 
 dead of the plague, Uing 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 
 dying 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 liurials 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 every one of them. 
 
 Sept. 7th. 
 To the Towner, 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 ; 
 tlie 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 w^e 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
 
 The Plague of London 
 
 129 
 
 the greatest part of them, attempted to 
 open a dead corpse wliich was full of 
 tlie 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 tlie 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. IVIinnes 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 tlie 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, ^^^^^^ ^^ them the 
 plague 7,165; which is more, in the 
 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! tliere is above i,Soo decrease, 
 lieing the first considerable decrease we 
 have had. Most excellent discourse 
 witli Mr. Evel\n 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. oSIiddleton is rare, and his 
 own wife docs brave things.
 
 I30 
 
 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 o\erheard 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 I to see how 
 I am treated, that come from so mean 
 a beginning, is matter of wonder to 
 me. But it is (Jod'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. 35th (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, i66z,-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 
 
 ^31 
 
 Jan. 30th. 
 Home, finding the town keeping the 
 day solemnly, it being the day of the 
 King's murder; inid 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 niucli 
 troubled at it, and do not think to go 
 through it again a good while. 
 
 Feb. I 2th. 
 Comes Mr. Cajsar, my boy's lute- 
 master, w^hom 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 bui-ials ; 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 Memoii's 
 (p. 167). 
 
 A dreadful plague raged in London 
 during the summer of 1665, vrhich 
 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 LOXDOX, 1666 A. D. 
 
 Extracts from Pepys' and Evelyn's 
 Diaries. 
 
 Pcpys. 
 
 Sept. 3nd (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 chess 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 
 aliove three hundred houses have been 
 burnetl down to-niglit bv the fire we saw, 
 and that it is now Vturning down all Fish 
 Street, by London Bridge. So I made
 
 13 
 
 The Fire of London 
 
 mvself 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 jSIichell's house, 
 as far as the Old Swan, already burned 
 that way, and the fire running fiuther, 
 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 tlie 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 Jvlayor 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. 
 Hei-e 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 w^ell 
 as I could, every creature coming away 
 laden w'ith goods to save, and here and 
 there sick people carried awav 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 hankerchcr about his 
 neck. To the King's message he cried 
 like a fainting woman, " Lord ! what 
 can I do? I am spent : people \vill 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. Tlie 
 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 brandv. 
 and other things. Here I saw Mr. 
 Isaac Houblon, the handsome man, 
 prettily dressed and dirty at his door 
 at Dowgate, ireceiving 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 theie 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 tine, and her hus- 
 band, for aught 1 see, a likely' 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 liad 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 Qiieenhithe, 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 w^ater, we to a little ale- 
 house on the banksidc, over against the
 
 134 
 
 The Fire of London 
 
 " Three Cranes," and there stayed till 
 it was dark almo.st, 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, 
 w'here 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, \vere 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 c;dl that night which 
 was light as day for 10 miles round 
 about, after a dreadfu'll 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 ve wind as well as forward), 
 Tower streete, Fen-church streete, 
 Gracious streete, and so along to Bain- 
 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 scene 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 faire 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 scene 
 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 scene 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 
 w^as 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 — 7ion enim hie habemns stabilem 
 civitatem ; the mines resembling the 
 picture of Troy. London was, but is 
 no more ! Thus I returned. 
 
 Pepys. 
 
 Sept. 3rd. 
 About four o'clock in tlie morniner 
 
 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 to 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 tlie kennels, and 
 people working wherewith from one 
 
 end to the other, the fire coming on in 
 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 Sir W. 
 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 Trinitv House on
 
 The Fire of London 
 
 >37 
 
 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 w'as 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 
 <lown 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 pidling them 
 dow'ne 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 perniitt, 
 
 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 was yet 
 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, 
 w\as 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 butts 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 
 miserv and poverty.
 
 138 
 
 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 mine 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 ofiicc 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- 
 dav but the remains of Sunday's dinncf. 
 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, w'alking 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 bv 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 Alercer'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 
 
 '39 
 
 Excliange, with the hair all hurned off 
 the body, and vet 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, Thursdav. 
 1 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 
 mv relation. 
 
 Pep vs. 
 
 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 tire is, 
 and call our men to Bishopsgate, where 
 no fire had yet been near, and there is 
 now one broken out, whicli 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 hatli 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 (o 
 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 t>f 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 notliing 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, T^Ir. 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 
 scliool 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. Panics, 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 I'ender'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 mine, 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 
 mines 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 j-e rest of 
 the Companies Halls, splendid build- 
 ings, arches, enterics, 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 ceUars, wells, 
 and dungeons, fornierlv warehouses, 
 still burning in stench and dark clovvds 
 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 mines 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, i-emain'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 
 efhgies, 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 mines 
 of some Church or Hall, that had 
 some remarkable tower or pinnacle 
 remaining. I then went towards Is- 
 lington and Highgate, w'here 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 liegun that 
 the French and Dutch, w'ith whom we 
 were now in hostility, were not onely 
 landed, but even entering the Citty. 
 There was in truth some days before 
 great suspicion of those two nations 
 joyning ; and now, that they had ben 
 the occasion of firing the towne. This 
 report did so terrific, 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 covdd 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 tlie 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'^ 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 vears' time. 
 
 GROUP XVII. 
 
 THE COURT OF CHARLES II. 
 
 I . Extracts from the Diaries of Pepys 
 and Evelyn. 
 
 Pepys. 
 
 August 31, 1 66 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 anywhei^e 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 Qiieen'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 Qiieene 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. 
 
 Pep vs. 
 
 May 31st, 1662. 
 The Qiieen 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.
 
 CATHAPIATA D^G. maQucc hntanniaiTmmK^fitHih&ttutrvnmd 
 
 ■!.:,■ I' I. 
 
 Q. /r Hilhn.. 
 
 rw»w*-
 
 The Court of Charles II. 
 
 143 
 
 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 thtx 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. 
 
 3. Letter of Thomas Brown to M. de 
 A. at Paris. (In the Compleat Works 
 of Mr. Thomas Brown. London, 17 10.) 
 
 . . . 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 
 Qiieen 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 Qiieen 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 harmon}^ 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 XL by a Member 
 of his Privy Council." (London, 1793.) 
 
 . . . Their majesties came together 
 to Hampton-court on the 39th of May, 
 the King's birthday, and just two 
 years after his triumphal entrance into 
 London. 
 
 Whatever testimonies of public joy
 
 144 
 
 The Court of Charles II. 
 
 were given on this occasion, yet in a 
 short time there appeared not that 
 serenity at conrt 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 
 wdio 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 tlie barbarity of the af- 
 fronts she underwent; and the king's 
 indifference was now changed into a 
 settled contempt. . . . The lady had 
 apartments assigned licr 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 aiul conduct the 
 new Qiieene from Hampton Court to 
 White-hall, at the first time ot her 
 coming to town. In my opinion it far 
 exceeded all ye Venetian Bucentoras, 
 etc., on the Ascension, when the}'^ go 
 to espouse the Adriatic. His Majcstie 
 and the Qiieene 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. 
 1 am sorry to hear that the news of the 
 sclHng of Dunkirk is taken so gener- 
 ally ill, as I find it is among the mer-
 
 The Court of Charles II. 
 
 145 
 
 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 
 Qiieen 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, whh my black 
 silk knit canons I bousfht a month as^o. 
 
 April iSth, 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 Qiieen 
 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 
 verv 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 Harley. (In Ms, Commission 
 Report, 14 Appendix.) 
 
 Oxford (?) Oct. 19, 1665. 
 
 [Shades of Bocaccio ! Three days before, 
 
 as we have seen, Pepvs wrote in his diary 
 
 "I walked to the Tower; but Lord I 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 coint 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 Qiieene 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 Qiieene came half an houre after 
 and went awaye at eleven. The rest did 
 dance till between one and two. The 
 Qiiccn [did] dance all the while she 
 was there with an extraordinary great 
 modestye. They did dance altogether 
 contrey dances, and did junipe and leape 
 as those creatures which live upon vour 
 moiuitaines. They were eleven or 
 twelve ladvs and as manv courtiers.
 
 The Court of Charles II 
 
 147 
 
 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 anv 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 anvbody 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. 36, 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. 
 
 Evely7i. 
 
 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 
 veiy 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. iSth, 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.] 
 
 Jan. iSth, 1666-7. 
 I was present at a magnificent ball 
 or mascjue in tlie 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 Qiieene and 
 stood by the King's left hand, but did 
 not sit. Then was the banquetting 
 stuff flung about the room profusely. 
 ... I now staled 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 I 2th Report of MS. 
 Commission. Appendix, Part V.) 
 
 Lady Mary Bertie to her niece, 
 KatJieri)ie JVoel, at JExton. 
 
 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 Qiieene's Birthday most wore em- 
 braudcred 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. ic, 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 Air. Dreyden who made 
 the Indiaji 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 verv rich." 
 
 Sir Ed. Harley to Lady Hurley. 
 
 (In MS. Commission, 14th Report, 
 Appendix.) 
 
 March 1 1, 1 670-1. 
 . . . 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. 2ist, 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 accoi'dingly 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.
 
 ISO 
 
 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 
 tolle-ration ; 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 rcge^ 
 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 liad 
 lately made so severe an act against ye 
 increase of Poperie, gave exceeding 
 grief and scandal to the whole nation, 
 that tlie hey re of it, and ye son of a 
 martyr for ye Protestant religion, 
 sliould 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 Qiieen's birthday, es- 
 peicially M'^ 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 
 Qiieene's birth-night ball was infinite 
 rich, espeicially M'^ 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 
 Soo/. ; but her face and shape must be 
 approved by everybody : the men also 
 very rich.
 
 The Court of Charles II. 
 
 151 
 
 Nov. 23rd. 
 Foi" niewse, the King sup't two 
 nights agoe with Mr. Griffin, etc., and 
 all the jockeys being invited to meet 
 his jVIajestie : and there they have made 
 four matches to be run at Newmarket. 
 . . . M'^ 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. 13. 
 . . . 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 adiiiiration of severall 
 men that was lookers on in the Parke. 
 . . . The Dutchesse [of Yorke] is much 
 delighted with making and throwing of 
 snow-l)alls 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 Trahiias^ 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 
 Alonmoutli, Mr. Griffin, and IVIr. Godol- 
 phin, and a fourth whose name I have 
 forgot. . . . M'' 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 comended — 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 w^oman which in this age they 
 promise shan't be scene but on the stage. 
 
 Edzvard Smith to Lord Roos. 
 
 Feb. S, 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 knovves : 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 I r, 167S. 
 . . . The quarrells of some ladies 
 hath made great talke in the towne and 
 much laughing. M'^ 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 Al'® 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 
 M'^ Browne, the deare fi-iends, but it is 
 too long for any letter : but in short they 
 were att cards att one M'^ Roberts's 
 lodgings, and one M'® Love being land- 
 lady of the house an exchange woman. 
 Lady Mohun' s pages spit in that M'^ 
 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, Init M'^ Browne, M'^ 
 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 vour diseases. 
 
 Extracts jfroni Evelyn. 
 
 July 15th, 16S3. 
 
 The public was now in greate con- 
 sternation on the late plot and conspir- 
 acy ; his Majestic 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 
 beai-e 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 cngag'd very smartly.
 
 The Court of Charles II 
 
 •53 
 
 2Sth. 
 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 BiirJtct. 
 Prince George of Denmai'k was the 
 most indolent of all mankind, had given 
 great proofs of bravery in his own 
 country, where he was much beloved. 
 King Charles IT told my father he had 
 tried him, drunk and sober, but " God's 
 fish," there was nothing in him. His 
 behaviour at the revolution [i6SS] 
 shewed he could be made a tool of 
 upon occasion ; but King William 
 treated him with the utmost contempt. 
 When Qiieen 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. 
 
 II. Extract from Evelyn. 
 
 Feb. 4th, 16S5. 
 
 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 botli 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 . . . 
 thev drew 12 ounces more of blood 
 from him. 
 
 Extracts from Foi()itai)iJialV s 
 
 JMcmoirs. 
 
 (Edinborough, 1S37.) 
 
 16S5. 
 
 . . . His Qiiean, 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. iS, 16S5. 
 
 ... 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 eveiy 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 overwdielmed with 
 grief. . . . She said to me, "Monsieur 
 the ambassador, I am going to tell you 
 the greatest secret in the w^orld, 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 offei-ed 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, Uss, 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 Qiieen, 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 Qiieen'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 Qiieen's 
 women, and the other priests, saw so 
 much going and coming, that I do not 
 think the secret can be long kept. . . . 
 
 Extract froiu Biir)ict . 
 
 . . . 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. lie 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. Gvvynn. But he said 
 nothing of the queen. 
 
 . . . He continued in the agony till 
 Friday at eleven o'clock, being the 
 sixth of February 16S4-5 ; and then 
 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 : ill which 
 were so carelessly looked aftc", 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, llis 
 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 FoioitanilialV 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 Cromw^ell'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 
 
 pi-'y- 
 
 13. 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 wonderfuU 
 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 aliroad happening 
 in his time, with a thousand other par- 
 ticulars. ... I can never forget the 
 inexpressible luxury and prophaneness, 
 gaining 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 toving with. . . . Ports- 
 mouth, Cleaveland, and Mazarine, etc., 
 a French boy singing love-songs, in
 
 150 
 
 The Court of Charles II. 
 
 that glorious gallery, whilst about 20 
 of the greate courtiers and other disso- 
 lute persons \vere 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 moiun- 
 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 
 naturall 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 ( I) ; 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, 171S. 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 owne 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 
 emissariesand 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 i^eligion 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, 16S5 A.D. 
 
 I. 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 IVIajesty 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 mc, 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 absohitely ruin'd and given 
 up. . . . 
 
 May 17. 
 ... I am informed by my letters 
 thflt 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.] ; 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- 
 liit 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. . . .
 
 S. P^at^ 304^ J^*x, i-*f . 
 
 fl/j //itfl//r/ (/(■ ( //ti/-/i.r jj .
 
 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 159 
 
 June I. 
 
 . . . Unlesse something very vigor- 
 ous be done within a very fewe days, 
 the monarky is gone. 
 
 June Sth, 
 
 I know that he [Charles] is very 
 sensible that if he parts wdth 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 cm 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. 
 
 157.) 
 
 Nov. 15, 16S3. 
 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 
 imder is too heavy for me to bear, — even 
 death itself w'ould 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 w-as 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
 
 i6o 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. 
 
 MOXMOUTII. 
 
 3. Letters of James, as Duke of 
 York, to the Marquis of Qiieen^berry. 
 (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, 
 confest himself guilty of the plot in 
 generall, and owned all but tlic 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 sav any more. 
 
 Dec. I, 16S3. 
 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 JNIon- 
 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 16 1 
 
 Dec. 8, 16S3. 
 
 The Duke of ^Vlonmouth's being 
 banished yesterday the court, will, I 
 beleve, be no lesse surprising to you 
 then his corning 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. 
 
 16S5. 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, V^ol. 
 11^- 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 I^w establish' d. The same decl-a- 
 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 jSIajestie 
 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 contiiuie 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 frovi Foiintainhall. 
 
 Oia the 33 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 foi"- 
 tunes are low. . . . By ane act, the 
 King declared that the Qiiean, on hir 
 coronation day, would i^elease all pris- 
 oners for debts within £^ sterling, by 
 paying them, wheirby So 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 liir 
 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, tlie 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, (wdiom 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, w^ou'd-be-king. . . ,
 
 <>// { / 7/ / . V ^ ////rUA /_ .(/., 
 
 7/^//
 
 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 163 
 
 6. Extract from Bishop Burnet's 
 History of his own Times. (Oxford, 
 1S52, 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 bi^ought 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 Kmg'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 Fountainhall's Me- 
 moirs. (Edinburgh, 1S37, 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 put 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 
 plaving 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 
 awav from the hazard, and Sir John 
 fights stoutly like a man ; only, the 
 greatest coward when stiaitned (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 
 himself e " 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, i . 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 in 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 16S1 ; 
 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 
 amies, (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 i6S^, as his father had been 
 in 166 1. 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. 
 
 Biirtict. 
 
 . . . 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 
 Tames II. (In Roberts' Monmouth, 
 Vol. I. p. 257.) 
 
 Honiton, nth June, i6S^, near 
 I 2 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 Dorsetshiies ; 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 hiunble 
 and obedient servant and subject. 
 
 I3i(r)ict . 
 
 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, 1844. 
 Vol. L, 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 Argylc 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 notliing 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 w\ar 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 punisliment : 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 
 bloodv 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 w'isdom, 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. 
 
 lo Correspondence of Monmouth and 
 Albemarle. (In Roberts, Vol. I. p, 
 326. Also in Ellis.) 
 
 To our trusty and ivcll-belovcd Cousin 
 and Councillor^ ChristopJicr 
 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 
 ^lonmonth. 
 
 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 lett this rebellion alone, 
 and not have put the nation to so much 
 trouble. 
 
 Albemarle-. 
 
 II. 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. lie 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 sei*\'ice 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 Conimentator .~\ 
 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. . . . ]SIon- 
 mouth had ahnost 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 i soo 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 hail 
 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 tlie 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 wdiere 
 the duke of Monmouth lay. So he was 
 taken. . . . His body was cjuite 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 H. (In Roberts, Vol. L p. 
 
 . . . 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 ISIajesty, and gave me so 
 many false arguments, that I was fully 
 led away to believe that it was a sliame 
 and a sin before God not to do it. . . . 
 
 I am sure, sir, when you hear me, 
 vou will be convinced of the zeal I have
 
 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 169 
 
 of your preservation, and how lieartily 
 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 
 Almiglity 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, 1S09.) 
 
 The Duke of Monmouth from the 
 time of his being taken in the West, 
 shewd a wonderful concerned ness to 
 save his life, and stuck at nothing that 
 could secure to him the hopes of dooing 
 it. His Majestic w^as 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 Majestic, 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 
 Majestic 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 
 Majestic, 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 w'as 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 intcr- 
 rogatorie pairt had bein over, he went 
 to that pairt of the scaffold where the 
 block and ax lave. The axe he took 
 into his hand, and felt the edge of it, 
 saying to Jack Ketch [the 0}-igi)ial 
 Jack Ketch. — Ed.], 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 guinics ; 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 ordouis for a sute of cloathes. 
 Noe cliange nor alteratione of counte- 
 nance from the first unto the last ; but 
 stript himself of his coat; and haveing 
 prayed, laved 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 botcherl} 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 bodv 
 
 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, \vhich 
 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 \vould have torne him 
 to pieces, soe great was their indigna- 
 tione at the barbarovis 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 awav as a precious relique. 
 
 GROUP XIX. 
 
 THE ARBITKAHV RULE OF JAMES 11. 
 
 I. Letter of Dr. Hickes to Dr. 
 Charlett. (In Aubrey, Letters by emi- 
 nent persons. London, 1S13.) 
 
 Jan 23rd, 1710-1 I. 
 Dear Sir : I . . . can defer my 
 humble thanks no longer for your kind 
 New Years gifts, the stately Almanack 
 and the Orationes ex Poctis Latlnis^ 
 where ... I cast my eyes on the 
 Sortcs Virgilianae of Charles I. 
 
 At Bcllo Alidads Pop7ili 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 liead, 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 wliich 
 regard the fate of kings and nations. 
 
 3. Description of James II. by an 
 anonymous Contemporary. (In ^lac- 
 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 i"ender men 
 incapable of business. . . . His affec- 
 tion for the Qiieen 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 chiUiren, in par- 
 ticular, that when he found the princess 
 of Denmark [Anne] had desertetl 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. 
 
 16S5. 
 
 . . . The King, the Sunday im- 
 mediately following his brother's death, 
 went openly to his Qiiean'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 stantling 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 
 incouragetl ; now, there is litle to 
 be seen but seriousnesse and busi- 
 nesse. . . . 
 
 On the iSth of April, being the 
 vigil before Easter, the King washed 
 53 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 anotlier, 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 Avith 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 ovme 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 praerogatives ; and that he began 
 with them as he intended to end : for 
 the old distich holds true, Atiglica gciis^ 
 optima Jicns^ pcssima 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 pait, 
 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 lale brother 
 could never of late compasse, tho he 
 had as mucli 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 tvme 
 coming. . . . 
 
 The Lor d Jeffries, ChanceKor, 
 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 gicat 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. Tlie peers, who used alwayes to 
 be most tame and obsecjuions to the 
 Kings, turned very gitldy 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 
 Counsel 1. . . . 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. 3. 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 Qiiean 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 
 extroordinary demand of the Kings that 
 stai"tled them : and the truth was, many 
 lo3'alI 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 
 anorning, (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 dividge his 
 proofs ther, in cases of treason, before 
 he ware ready, which in experience he 
 had found to be prejudiciall. . . . 
 
 In April, 16S6, 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. 
 
 Rcrcsby s ^lemoirs. 
 
 March 2nd, 16S5. 
 ... It was now out of doubt that 
 the King w\as 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 Qiieen 
 Anne] went dailv. The King repaired 
 to the Qiieen'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. . . . 
 
 ISIarch 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 
 ISIonmouth'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 
 certainlv a reign that was now so be- 
 vond expectation successful in its first 
 six months seemed so well settled that 
 no ordinarv 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 tlie shaking of 
 the legs of those whom tliey 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 thev 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 Coin- 
 me7itaior.'\ . . . 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 " Lnpartial 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 poperv 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. 
 
 (Qiioted by Roberts from *•' State 
 Trials.") 
 
 You must every one of vou be had 
 back to the phice 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 burtit 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 merev 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, policv, 
 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 sa}^ "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 woidd scarce undergo 
 again to save my life ; and I shall cer- 
 tainly have the friglitful 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 lie 
 was acquitted of the Rebellion, no 
 person appealing 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 loo 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 thei'e 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 jMaj- 
 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 l)y 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's habit 
 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 ])lace 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 
 witlial added, that his instructions were 
 much more severe than the execution of 
 
 tliem, 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 pall'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 
 protest that 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, 16S6. 
 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 thi'one where 
 the King and Qiieene sit is very glori- 
 ous, in 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 ; tlien 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 cliang- 
 ing place : the crosier which was of 
 silver, was put into his hand with a 
 world of mvstcrious ceremonv, the 
 musiq playing, with singing. I could 
 not have believed I should ever have 
 scene such things in the King of Eng- 
 land's Palace, after it had pleas' d God 
 to enlighten this Nation ; but owr greate
 

 
 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, 16S6-7. 
 
 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 loth. 
 Most of the greate oflicers, 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, 16SS. 
 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 Sth. 
 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 promises. 
 
 June Sth. 
 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.
 
 i8o The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 
 
 loth. 
 
 A Toti7ig Prince borne, which will 
 cause disputes- About 3 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, w-as 
 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 BatteJ 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.
 
 ' /:////? ( ('/Y////
 
 The Coming of William and Mary i8i 
 
 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, 16SS, 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. 
 
 Hcrr FageV s Answer by Order {tb.) 
 
 Sir : iMy 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, 1S75.) 
 
 August 25, 168S. 
 I carried my wife and daughter to 
 Windsor to wait on the Qiieen. 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 appi'ehension 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 
 a^sravations— 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. 
 
 16SS. 
 . . . The prmce 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 lawfid and just, and 
 having had a considerable hand in advis- 
 ing the whole progress of it, I tlvnight 
 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 v^^ind 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 w'as 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 tlie 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 wr.s 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 w^e 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 
 davs, 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 w^as 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 23. 
 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 lOO 
 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 
 Montagn 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 Henr}^ Goodricke, Mr. 
 Wortley Montague, Mr. Tankard, jMy 
 Lord Danby, who w^as 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 
 w^ith 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, wdiich the King 
 had very near destroyed, and which tlie 
 Prince of Orange w^as 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 w^e 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. 
 
 v 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 vou 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 
 €njoy 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 wdiy milk-asses 
 are provided for. . . . 
 
 27. Nov, 
 Yesterday between four and five ot 
 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 manv 
 others of note are gone to the Prince of 
 Orange's army . . . but wdiat is at 
 least as bad news as this, is, that ves- 
 
 terdav morning when the Princess of 
 Denmark's (James's daughter, later 
 Qiieen 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 Airs. Berkeley. 
 
 6. Letter left behind l)y Princess 
 Anne for the Queen. In Ellis, p. 166.) 
 
 Ivladam : 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 dutv 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 unhapjDy con- 
 dition, so divided between dutv 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, \vho avow to have no 
 other end than to prevail with the King 
 to secure their religion, which they saw 
 so much in danger 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 au happy end to these 
 troubles, that the King's reign may be 
 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. 
 
 Reresb v' s ^Icuioirs — contutiied. 
 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-IIull — 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, 16SS. 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 doinir 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 
 vou 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. . . . 
 
 I^etters to John Ellis — contimied. 
 Dec. II, 16SS. 
 Dear Friend : I am now to tell you 
 that the Qiieen 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 liirht 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 Tuesdav 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. Antl 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, Arme, 
 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 Dartviouth to Lord F'cvershain. 
 
 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 miserablest 
 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 Majestic, 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
 
 i88 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 desti-uctive council as to go away 
 vourselfe, 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 Ofli- 
 cers. I have had yett no returne from 
 the Prince of Orange, but I hope all 
 w\\\ 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. iS. 
 
 . . . 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 Qiieen's barge, to Somerset 
 House to compliment the Qjieen 
 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. . . . 
 
 S. Letter of James II. to the Lords 
 Spiritual and Temporal. (In the i2th 
 Report, 6th Appendix, of the Royal 
 MSS. Commission.) 
 
 Rochester, Dec. 22nd, 16S8. 
 iSIy 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, w'hen 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 hiin 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. 39th. 
 . . . 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. 
 
 Rcresb v' s Memoirs. 
 
 Januaj'y 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 wdiat 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, 16SS-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 Qiieene 
 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, artd 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. 
 
 Rcrcsby. 
 
 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 Qiieen 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 anv 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 
 Marv, 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- 
 nitv, 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 Qiieen, assisted 
 by the Bishop of Salisbury (the late 
 Dr. Burnet), who preached the Coro- 
 nation sermon, and by two others. 
 
 May 5th. 
 . . . 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 countrv ; 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 montlis pass before I 
 pressed the thing too much, to see 
 what became of things. 
 
 (On the i2th of May, Sir John 
 Reresby died.) 
 
 Evelyn . 
 
 Feb. 3 1 St, 16SS-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 ne~v ^iteene and King 
 proclaim' d the very next day after her. 
 coming to Whitehall, Wedner,day 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 
 imdresse, 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 Qiieene 
 lay, and within a night or two sate 
 downe to play at basset, as the Qiieene, 
 her predecessor, used to do. She 
 smil'd upon and talk'd to every body, 
 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 and Qiieene immediately, and a 
 Crowne was tempting. 
 
 Extract from Burjiet. 
 
 16SS. 
 All things \vere 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 
 revohition, as to her father's person, 
 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. 
 
 I. Letters of Madame de Scvigne. 
 Vol. 7. (Edition in English, London, 
 181 1 . 7^//c passages hi brackets from 
 the latest French Edition.^ 
 
 Paris, Nov. 8, 16S8. 
 
 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? 
 lie 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 tinest weather possiljle, 
 
 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 enjlute, 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
 
 \lAli\ P.I \1RI\ i^riKN OK F.>fGI.AND 
 
 SCOTLA^M) F RANCK AM> 1 RELAYS I) 
 
 RORN l»HINr»'.S OF Moi>VN\
 
 The Stuarts in Exile 
 
 19 
 
 J 
 
 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 
 tlie 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 jMonsieur 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 Qiieen 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 slie pleases 
 every one who beholds her. Here 
 [my sweet one] is matter for general, 
 conversation that will not soon be 
 exhausted. . . . 
 
 Jan. I 2th, 16S9. 
 . . . To oome 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 hhn. The 
 king of Enghuid does not give his 
 hand to the dauphin, and does not 
 reconduct him. The ([ucen has not 
 kissed Monsieur, who is offended at 
 this; she said to the king, "Tell me 
 what you v^Msh 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, 16S9. 
 . . . 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 line piece 
 according to report. She has paid a 
 visit to the Qiieen 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 receiveil 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; Init I ncnv 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 w hat has passed 
 in England witli 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.], 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, 16S9. 
 Tliis 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 pav 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 ver}- 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 
 thev 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 
 mv dear romances ; but a little intrigue 
 is wanting. 
 
 Jan. 31, 16S9. 
 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 davs of infancy. The histoi-ies 
 which v^e 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 w^eak ; 
 that of the prince of Orange, which is 
 veiy strong ; and a third consisting of 
 republicans and non-confoi'mists. 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. 
 
 Madame dc Sivig)ie. 
 
 Feb. 23, 16S9. 
 . . . 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, 16S9. 
 
 . . . The King of England [James] 
 
 is going over to Ireland ; this, at least, 
 
 is the report : but I vouch for notliing 
 
 thisvear; it is tlie harvest of lies. . . . 
 
 Feb. 2S. 
 ... It is certain that the king of 
 England set out this morning for Ire- 
 land, where he is expected witli 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 sutficient arms 
 for 10,000 men. As his Britannic 
 majesty took leave, he said with a smile, 
 " That arms for himself were the only 
 tilings 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
 
 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, 16S9. 
 . . . The chevalier will inform 30U 
 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, 16S9. 
 jVI. 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 Ii'eland, 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. 
 
 Biir}iet, 
 
 16S9. 
 
 . . . 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 Exile 
 
 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 niiglit 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 LuttrelP s Diary. 
 (London, 1S59. 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 aliove 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 litt 
 to expose himself,) but was upcjii 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 I I. 
 
 . . . Tis said when King James went 
 away, he bid his army to shift for them- 
 selves and make the best terms thcv 
 could. 
 
 z. Letter of Matthew Prior to the 
 Karl of Halifax. (In Ellis. Original 
 Letters of Eminent Literary Men. 
 Camden Society. London, 1S43.) 
 
 Paris, 30-20 August, 169S. 
 My good Lord and Master, I have 
 written one letter to vou to congratu- 
 late you on vour honours, one to c(jn- 
 
 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 ; vlve 
 Giiillaiinic '. 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, 1S41. Vol. IL 
 p. 197.) 
 
 Oct. 15, 169S. 
 
 I had a letter from Prior yesterday. 
 . . . He hears that King James and his 
 (^uecn are highly caressed at Fontain- 
 bleau ; that the chief court was made to 
 (^ueen 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 Qiieen 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 fo7tr le 
 Roi d' Anglctcrrc, ou, poitr la Re inc., 
 is spoken out as loud, and with as much 
 ceremony, as for the King of France,
 
 ;ii!i}jiiiJil}HiyjimiiiliRitimi{iiiiiiHiyiiyniiiiiJilili»il^ 
 
 G- ,^\ni/u ' Inijlrfrrn 
 
 1 iiiii iillilliillilii'jniiliiilllijll iiiiiliiiilililliilllllllllllillllliiliililllnliiiilHIIIIIIillllillliliiliilllllllllll^ .^ 
 
 If -vcmi a JUfij- rJ*er. T/umttjj'in rn,- .C ' faaini'^ 7'i> ,i fij- /•: t'lir ,/ii Pl.itrc <t liin,x^f ^C Iran j^ucf Frit'
 
 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 jMichaelmas next. 
 
 4. The Death of James II., by an 
 anonymous contemporary. (In Mac- 
 pherson. Original Papers, Vol. I. p. 
 5S9.) 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 Qiieen, 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- 
 sired him 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 should 
 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 
 
 ^. Letter of the Pretender to (^iieen 
 Anne. (Macpherson, Orii^inal 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 
 firmlv united ; and have hindered us 
 from the proper means and endeavours 
 of a better understanding between us, 
 which coulil not fail V) produce the 
 most happy effects to ourselves, to our 
 familv 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 th.at is 
 possible for me to come to a perfect 
 iniion with you. 
 
 .\nd 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 oin- 
 father enjoin it ; the preservation oi 
 our family, the jfieventing of unnatural 
 wars rc(]uire 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 vou 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 
 welfai'e 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 wliich will make 
 us both happ}- ; 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, I 71 2. 
 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 
 l)cst 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 
 
 20I 
 
 cannot tell the heart I hear 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 he sure, 
 nohody 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 Alar] 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 caie, 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. 3S5.) 
 
 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, tlie 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 
 chie£ ground for keeping the Pretender 
 out. — Ed.] 
 
 J/. Martinez to J/. RobetJioii. 
 (Macpherson II. p. ^83.) 
 
 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 Qiieen. He has news of 
 her frequently from the English who 
 come and retu.rn for that purpose. He 
 reckons that all tlie 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 tal)le. 
 
 S. Letter from an English Traveller 
 at Rome to his Father. (In Clarendon 
 Hist. vSoc. Reprints, ist Series, p. 
 
 235-) 
 
 Rome, ye 6th of May, 1721. 
 
 Sir : . . . After my arrival hear I 
 received your letter of ye 15th of Feb- 
 ruy by which you reminded me of 
 your commands at my Departure to 
 avoid conversing with ye Pretender or 
 any of his dejicndcnts. 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. — 
 En.] . . . 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 ve Church of England, 
 whom we did not suspect to be of ye 
 Pretenders retinue. . . . On Ester Evv 
 he made us the complement, that as 
 he proposed us bred in yc professif)n 
 of the said cluuLh, 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 stard at the 
 Doctor who added that the Pietender 
 who he callM King had prevaild witli 
 the late Pope to grant licences for 
 
 liaving 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 
 ve Pretender and if creditt can be 
 given them they ashurd me he is an 
 upright moral 1 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 ; witli 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 
 Ictt them pass by. The Pretender was 
 easily distinguished from the rest by 
 his Starr and (jarter, as well as by an 
 air of greatness which discovered a 
 Majesty superiour to ye rest. I felt in 
 that instant of 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, whicli I confess I could not
 
 The Stuarts in Exile 
 
 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 sedatcness 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 lovely 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 Contrarv. 
 
 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
 
 '04 
 
 The Stuarts in Exile 
 
 servd. We endeavouid 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 Englisli 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 Pyc. . . . 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 asiuire vou Sir, said he, that the 
 friends vou 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 Prnicess told us wc must 
 go to see her Son, wliich could not be 
 refusd. lie is realy a fine promising 
 Child, and is attended by ICnglisli 
 women, mostly protestant, which the 
 Princess observe! to us, saying that as 
 she believd he was to live and Dye 
 among protestants, she thought litt to 
 havi'Iiim bii-d lip b\ tlu'lr h:iii<ls : .ind 
 
 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 pi'etenders 
 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 shea question' d ]:)Ut tlie 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. . . . 
 lie bemoaned the misfortune of Eng- 
 land, [and] . . . lamented the ill 
 treatment and disregard of the Ancient 
 Nobility. . . . " .Some may 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 witli tire in 
 his Eyes. 
 
 [After a heated discussion (jn 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 thf)ught it full time to take leave, and 
 break off the conversation, as I per- 
 ccave it [to be] to finish this long 
 letter. I own I am not sorry to have
 
 ^ILHELMUS BYDER GRATIE GODTS 
 
 Prince van Oraengien Grave van Nassau c^cjHarqitiz 
 VAN Veere.en Vlissingens^c Baron van Breda Gouver 
 NEUR OVER Geldereandt, Holeandt. Zeeeandt, Vest; 
 
 VRIESEANDT,Sic GENERAEL VANDE RtJYTERYE . 
 Is Qetcyckcnt endc Gt(neAen , door Crifpyn van Quehoorcrt 
 
 Ab*" Van"WaesbergenExc Amfterdam.
 
 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, 1S06, Vol. =;, 
 
 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 yoH77g 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 17SS. — 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 xxn. 
 
 CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS OF WILLIAM AXD .MARY. 
 
 I. A Tract on William HI. (Som- 
 ers' Tracts, Vol. XH. 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 fortime might seem a step- 
 mother to this prince, by depriving him 
 of a father before scarce a human soid 
 had been breathed into ihe infant, yet 
 she abundantly made amends for that 
 uiikindness by the prudence and indul- 
 gency of his mother, eldest dauglitcr 
 of King Charles I., who, by means of 
 the blood trom whence she sprimg, 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 worth\- 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 tentler ^ears. 
 
 His mind adjusted itself to the admo- 
 nitions of his tutors, and produced a 
 temper serious antl thoughtful, quite 
 averse from the usual gallantries 
 practised in the more refined and polite 
 courts, as tliey 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 ;
 
 2o6 
 
 Traits of William and Mary 
 
 such as were masters of those cjualities 
 were seldom employed hv him . . . 
 and this may he truly said of him, with- 
 out injustice to his memory, that he 
 was a much jijreater king, hut noth- 
 ing so fine a gcntlem;in as his uncle 
 [Charles II.]. . . . 
 
 He never had many favourites, and 
 it was well for England that he had no 
 more than two. The hrst 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 hail 
 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 consefjuencc. 
 
 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 IMary, 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 JMemoirs. (London, 187^, 
 p. 82.) 
 
 1670. 
 
 The Frince of Orange being at this 
 time come into EngUmd, to pretend to 
 the Lady IMary, 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, w^as 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 j.udgment 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 IL Oxford, 1852, p. 144.) 
 
 16S6. 
 When I came to Utrecht I found 
 letters writ to me by 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 any where. 
 Upon iny 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 kinsj gave her no appointment 
 to support the dignity of a king's 
 daughter. Xor 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 
 l)oth 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 wliich ilxed mc in their conti- 
 dcnce was, the liberty 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 (luecn Alary 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 bi ing 
 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 witii 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 
 w'ere 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, Hiisbaiids love your 
 wives, as she should do that. Wives 
 be obedient to your Jnisbands in all 
 t/iino-s. ... 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 tJic Ea7-l of Argyll to an 
 
 unknozvn Correspo7idc)it. 
 
 (In 1 ith Report of MSS. Commission, 
 
 6th App. p. 1 82.) 
 
 May 1 2th, 16S9. 
 . . . Yesterday we disburthened 
 ourselves of the Crown which was 
 done in the Haukuc-tti ng house with 
 great solemnitie. The King and 
 C^ueen swore the oath ; the King him- 
 self swore it with that gravitie and
 
 jj 'lUiclnuij l'(' Vciifi' I'll K.' 'lldFUi ^""Uifc/rt 
 
 '•(in f)u/i Utile (:^^c/2cniiiLi^ J ra?icArrcA en rnliini/^y 
 
 .Kjrc-ut feltt'uyfi-n CxcuJa
 
 1 V
 
 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 
 tliat by it he did not understand himself 
 oljlidged to persecute anie upon the 
 account of religion and took us three 
 witnesses upon it. 
 
 3. Extracts from the Rutland Cor- 
 respondence. (MSS. Commission, 
 I 2th Report, Appendix V.) 
 
 Frances ]\iisscll to Lady Margaret 
 Rnssell. 
 
 Sept. 2gth, 1690. 
 . . . We have the best neighbours 
 here of my Lord and Ladv Wharton 
 that ever I had in anv place. . . . 
 Yesterday I found my Lady very much 
 out of humour fretting at her having 
 been surprised this day sevnnight bv 
 the Qiieen, 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. vShe sed if she woidd 
 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 Qiieen whom my Lady had 
 never seen, was just at the door. . . . 
 My Lady was fam io make her best 
 assurance supply the want of cverv- 
 thing else. There was all the guards 
 to be fed, and Lords and Ladies to 
 have a table, besides that for the 
 Qiieen. Indeed to heare mv Ladv 
 Wharton tell the tragical story would 
 almost have made one cry ; yet after 
 all she was very well pleased with the 
 honour the Qiieen did her, and believes 
 Her ALijestie 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, 
 170^, 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 stay 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 \vould be necessary 
 for his affairs to change his wav, 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 iiim 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
 
 2 lO 
 
 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 
 vear 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. . . . 
 
 16S9. 
 
 . . . Ward, ])ishop of Salisbury, died 
 this winter : many spoke to the King in 
 my favour, witliout my knowledge. 
 The King made them no answer. But 
 a few days 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. . . . 
 
 . . . Tlie 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. . . . 
 
 1691 . 
 
 . . . This was still kept up as a 
 prejudice against the Kmg and his gov- 
 ernment, that he loved to have a great 
 army about him ; and that when tliey 
 were once modeled, he would never 
 part with them, but govern in an nrl)i- 
 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 tlie Dutch more than 
 the English, to trust more to tliem, and 
 
 to admit them to more freedom with 
 him. He gave too much occasion to a 
 general disgust, which was spread both 
 anions: the English officers and the no- 
 bility : he took little pains to gain the 
 affections of the 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 Hvely 
 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 l:)roug]it 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. . . .
 
 ( Sec page ^15.)
 
 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 
 iimiss : 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 w^as not 
 so much as a colour for discourses of 
 that sort. . . . 
 
 When I laid all these things together, 
 Avhich 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 
 her 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 
 majriage, 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 2Sth 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 tiie 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. — continued. 
 
 She (Mary) died as imconcerned as 
 his majesty her husband fouglit, and 
 braved the King of Tensors 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 kindlv, 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 ovci- 
 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 tlie 
 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 naticnial 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 tlie 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. 
 
 ^. Letter of the Countess of Rutland 
 to her Husband. (MS. Commission, 
 Report 12, A pp. v.) 
 
 April, I 70 1. 
 
 I was last night at Kensington, my 
 dear Lord, alltho my cold yett is farr 
 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, 
 Qiieensbrough, 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 in joyed it extrein 
 well, which he was sorrv for. . . . 
 Affter his playing a litel at the gold 
 tabcl he rise and went to goe to the 
 orther tabels, as he allways dus, so I 
 ga\ e back to mack the King's way, and 
 presed the lailys 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 K1N(. OI- PRUSSIA. 
 ( Sec page a^.)
 
 Traits of William and Mary 
 
 2 I 
 
 iintl 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 recoverv : 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, fot 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. J 
 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 Oitsloiv^ 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, lesentment, jealousy and even 
 rivalry. 
 
 Burnet. 
 I was, in manv 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 
 mail of God's right hand^ ivhotn 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 tliat 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. secure her dowry, to renounce her hopes 
 
 171) wrote in 1698: "The King of of the succession. The head of the 
 
 Spain's health is the weatherglass upon Austrian Hapsburgs, the long-reigned 
 
 which all our politicians look; as that Emperor Leopold was descended from 
 
 rises or falls we look pleasant or un- a younger sister of Philip IV and had 
 
 easy." The same words would have married the younger sister of Charles 
 
 applied at almost any time during the II ; but no renunciation stood in the 
 
 previous thirty years. Aheady in way. To two other powers, England 
 
 1668 the Emperor Leopold and Louis and Holland, the question of the suc- 
 
 XIV had n.ade a secret treaty to cession was of vital importance even 
 
 divide the spoils between them so from a purely commercial point of 
 
 soon as the sickly Charles II, the view ; for France and Spain united 
 
 last Spanish Hapsburg, should pass would have controlled nearly the whole 
 
 away. But the feeble prince, whose sea-coast of the continent of Europe, 
 
 domains enil)Taccd not only Spain, and would have been in a position to 
 
 Cuba and the Phillipines, but also forbid the lucrative trade with the West 
 
 the Netherlands and a part of Italy Intlies. For a moment a peaceful solu- 
 
 and Sicilv, lingered on from year to tion of the matter seemed to have been 
 
 year. Louis XIV was constantly on achieved : Louis XIV and William of 
 
 the watch ; descended from the elder Orange agreed to give Spain, the Neth- 
 
 sister of Philip I\', he had, to make erlands and the colonies to Joseph 
 
 matters the more sine, married the older Ferdinand of Bavaria, son of the 
 
 sister of Charles II, although the latter Elector Max Emmanuel, and grandson 
 
 princess had been obliged, in order to of the Emperor Leopold. Austria wn,5
 
 \txi/fnluuius L inanucl (pi/. iX>cwari€C^ 
 0iur cr (^lector. (Mclgn iR^c^qtU 
 Lfuhcniacor . 6^-'. 

 
 The Spanish Succession War 2 1 5 
 
 to take Milan, France to have Naples 
 and Sicily. 
 
 If there was one thing wiiich 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 hut 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 
 poiidre 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 Qiieen, tried 
 equally hard to secure the whole inher- 
 itance for the Archduke Charles, Leo- 
 pold's younger son. One day, in the 
 Qiieen's absence from the sick-room, 
 the fatal document was signed in favor 
 of the French candidate. " The 
 Pvrenees 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 thi-one ; 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 beey 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 ghief 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
 
 2i6 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 Hochstiidt, 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 Bleniieim 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 Ciiarles, 
 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 Ilapslmrgs. 
 
 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 i)f 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 Ranstiidt. 
 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 Ramilies, 
 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 thev did was largely the fault of 
 Marll)orough ; 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 tiirone. 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 lighting for so many years, seemed
 
 (Sec page 216.)
 
 " -^ ^ 
 
 '. r ^r2> .in
 
 |l'5!S|||||!!|j|jj||jj|||||l|P'' 
 
 ^MEDKRICK. Wl/CfrSJ(!S{ \l\(;o;\ A)La\XJJ. 
 
 ) 
 
 L^jj-:c']'ORi>^'^)A\oyrr/,^ 
 
 Criyrtii \i at C rin'onr tiyf If tdo' 
 
 (Seepage 210.)
 
 The Spanish Succession War 
 
 '7 
 
 now the preferable candidate for tlie 
 throne of Spain. 
 
 Altogether in England the pendulum 
 liad completely swung round. No in- 
 sult was too great to be heaped upon 
 the ^larlboroughs ; 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 jMahon and Gibraltar, Newfound- 
 Jand, Nova Scotia and Hudson's Bay 
 
 Territorv. The Pretender was re- 
 nounced l)y 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.] 
 
 QUEEN AXNE AND TI 
 
 1. Extract from Horace Walpole's 
 Reminiscences. (Boston, 1S20, p, 84.) 
 
 The beauty of the duchess of Marl- 
 borough had alwa\ s been of the scorn- 
 ful and imperious kind ; and her feat- 
 lues 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 cjueen had offensive 
 smells. 
 
 2. Extracts fi"om the Correspondence 
 of the Duchess of Marlborough. (Lon- 
 don, 1S38, Vol. I. p I. ff.) 
 
 ^iiecn Anne to the DiicJicss of Marl - 
 boroui^'li . 
 
 1703- 
 It is now so late that I can only 
 thank you for your letter, and congratu- 
 late the Duke of Marlborough l)eing 
 well after the siege of Bon, which is 
 
 GROUP xxin. 
 
 IE MAKLBOROUGHS. 
 
 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. Qiieen Anne signs herself 
 "Mrs. Morley.") 
 
 MarlborougJi to Jiis 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 
 Qiieen, 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 tw^o bv another more at large. 
 
 Mareborougii. 
 
 llie ^uecn to tJie Duchess of Marl- 
 borongh. (Coxe 11. 38.) 
 
 Windsor, August 10-21. 
 Since 1 sent my letter away by the 
 messenger, I have had the happiness
 
 2i8 Oueen Anne and the Marlboroucrhs 
 
 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 lieing sin- 
 cerely, etc. 
 
 Mrs. Bt(r>ictt 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 inost 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. Tiie emperor can 
 give no title * half so glorious as such 
 an action. How much blood and 
 treasure has been spent to reduce tlic 
 exorbitant power of France, and to give 
 a balance to Europe; and when after 
 so long a struggle the event remained 
 under great imcertainty, to have the 
 glory to break the chain, gi\c the 
 
 ♦Alhitlinjj to till- tilU- nf priiK 
 
 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 vou. 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 
 gooil 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 
 :i happy favourite, happy in all your 
 advices and services, and happy in her
 
 i'KTER THE GKEAT. 
 ( See page 216.)
 
 K^i:YS£h 
 
 Cn€ 
 
 ThJiu , >f'n> 
 
 
 AN ALLY OF (^UKKN A.NNK. 
 (See page iiy.j
 
 Oueen Anne and the Marlboroughs 219 
 
 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. IL p. 21.) 
 
 To the most illustrious Prince of Us, 
 and the Holy Roman Empire, John, 
 Duke of JMarlborough, 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 Ifochstadt, 
 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 litierty 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 vou 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 i, 1706. 
 Since my last I have had the pleasure 
 of yours of the iith, 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). lam 
 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 
 Qiieen) and 91 (Godolphin) would not 
 want my service. . . . 
 
 ^Hcc/i Atuic 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 
 Morlev, who loves her sincerely, and 
 will do so to the last moment.
 
 2 20 Oueen Anne and the Marlborouahs 
 
 J^nccfi Anne to the Duchess. (MSS. 
 Commission, 8th report.) 
 
 May 1707 (or 170S). 
 ... 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 e\en your 
 own unkindness shall ever alter your 
 own unfortunate faithfull Morley. 
 
 ^iiccn Anne to the Duke. {Ih.) 
 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 (s/c). 
 
 ... 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 
 Qiieen, and this I hope you will make 
 her do. 
 
 ^Nccn Anne to the Duchess. (In 
 Correspondence of the Duchess of 
 Marlborough.) 
 
 Xo 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 IMorley. 
 
 The Duchess to ^ueen 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 mv 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 that 
 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 woukl 
 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 \yill 
 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
 
 - :«>i»».trv^«»«!Mt i>i w il' *»j iMI» f.iw »« ^i >« " 'J 'i ) u ";< j i »wyw - 
 
 
 £fy nu\\"->.\- ...i.ir.'Ju l i.'iy .h.- ■ in't mrt ^cr Cn.~.cf\l.z.rneri 
 
 
 
 CHARLES XII. OF SWEDEN. 
 
 ( See page 216.)
 
 
 , ''( r/^ y/\ur lJii^yuJ('J/(\^,^ oj ' '\iar//hyvu(//?^ 
 
 'Y\^^-*''-'^
 
 Oueen Anne and the Marlboroug^hs 221 
 
 a change in you, he would say that 
 the reason was because you were 
 grown very fond of Mrs. Mashain, and 
 were governed by those that governed 
 her. . . . 
 
 I had ahriost 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. 
 Harley ; and 1 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. Harley. Speaking of 
 her it begins thus: — "She had a soul 
 fitted for grandeur, a capacious reposi- 
 tory for tlie 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." 
 
 Mr. ]\raynzvari>ig to the Duchess of 
 ^larlboroJigJi . 
 
 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 (Tli« 
 Duchess herself) ; and he desired me 
 to remember that he then foretold that, 
 if that person and 42 (the Qiieen) 
 
 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's own Account of an 
 Interview with the Qiieen. (Corres- 
 pondence, I. 295.) 
 
 Good Friday, April 6, 1710. 
 
 Upon the 6th of April, 1710, 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 w'as 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. " I'pon what, 
 madam ? " said I. 
 
 The Qiieen. — I did not open vour 
 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 ansv/er? 
 
 The Qiieen. — I think there is noth- 
 ing you can have to say, but you can 
 write it.
 
 222 Oueen Anne and the Marlborouorhs 
 
 Lady Marlboroiigh. — Won't vour 
 ISIajesty give me leave to tell it you ? 
 
 The ^ueen. — Whatevei you have to 
 say you may write it. 
 
 Lady MarlborougJi. — Indeed, I 
 cant tell how to put such sort of things 
 into writing. 
 
 The S^ueoi. — Vou may put it into 
 writing. 
 
 L^ady Marlborough. — Wont your 
 Majesty allow me to tell you now I am 
 here ? 
 
 The ^uccn. — You may put it into 
 writing. 
 
 Lady yiarlborough. — 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 ^ueeti. — 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 ."^uccN. — You may put it into 
 writing. 
 
 Lady Marlborough. — Tliere are a 
 thousantl 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 luul to 
 say in writing, when she saw I went on 
 to tell her the thing, she turncil her 
 face from me as if she feared blushing 
 upon something I might say to her. 
 
 The ^uccN. — There are, without 
 doubt, manv lies told. 
 
 L^adv Marlborough. — Pray, madam, 
 tell me what you have heard of me, 
 tliat I may not trouble you to repeat 
 more disagreeable things than neces- 
 sary. 
 
 The ^ueen. — You said you desire 
 no answer, and I shall give you none. 
 
 Ladv Marlborough. — 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 ^uec?i. — I wnll 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 
 vou have heard, that I might be able to 
 clear myself in anything in which I 
 was wronged. 
 
 The ^ucen. — 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.) 
 
 1710-11, 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 
 mav be chosen Whig or Tory, as the 
 fiut'cn 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 
 
 inquiretl into, and they have reason ; 
 bnt 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.] 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. 13. 
 
 . . . Lady ISIarlborough 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 tw^enty 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 IMarlborough 
 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. I, 171 1-12. 
 
 . . . 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
 
 2 24 Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs 
 
 with us, no man knows. 1 do not love 
 to see personal resentment mix with 
 public affairs. . . . 
 
 Jan. S. 
 • . . . 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 lieen 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 l)eing out. 
 
 Jan. lo. 
 
 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 (lined 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 liini, 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- 
 bcrv is manifest. Sir Solomon Medina 
 paid him six thousand pounds a year to 
 have the employment of providing bread 
 for the arniv, and the duke owns it 
 in his letter to the commissioner of 
 accoimts. . . . 
 
 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. I 71 2. 
 
 . . . Tiic good natured lord Rivers 
 told me, he clearly perceived I was of 
 the duke of Marlborough's partv. I 
 answered that if the Qjieen 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 liad any concern with the ad-
 
 Oueen Anne and the Marl boroughs 
 
 r> o C 
 
 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. 
 
 Mrs. White to Mrs. llotsoN. (In 
 Macpherson's Original Papers, Vol II. 
 p. 271, ff.) 
 
 Feb . 1 7 1 2 . 
 
 My lord Marlborough is very humble, 
 visits every creature that has any credit. 
 To General Webb he sent to know,, 
 when he would be at home, he would 
 visit him. He sent him word, he 
 never would be at iiome to liim ; 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 Qiieen, 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 tliorough mortirt- 
 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 corn- 
 pan v pass, two of them, and the other 
 tw'o 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 slioulder-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 Qiieen gave him ever since 
 the birth-day ; it is worth 6000/. He 
 has had his answer from the third day 
 he was here. The court wish him 
 gone. 
 
 6"u'//?' 5 Journal. 
 
 Oct. z^. 
 . . . Here is the Duke of Marlbor- 
 ough going out of England (Lord 
 knows why), which causes many spec- 
 ulations. Some say h'e 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 sav 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 )5eople 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 1 1 . 
 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 a^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, 
 dear MD, 
 
 8. Characteristics of Qiieen Anne as 
 drawn bv the Ducliess. (Correspond- 
 ence, p. 119.) 
 
 Qiieen 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 a.nd 
 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 inight 
 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 \vhen 
 they were come to Court, she never 
 cared to have them come in to her, nor 
 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, l)oth 
 in sense and spelling, unless they were 
 generally enlivened witli a few passion- 
 ate expressions, sometimes pretty
 
 
 I. Smith /r. ft ex.
 
 Oueen Anne and the Marlborouo^hs 227 
 
 enough, but repeated over and over 
 a^^ain, without tlie mixture of any- 
 thing either of chversion 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 tliese 
 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 
 1 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 Ivlarl- 
 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 
 Qiieen Anne and me about a pair of 
 gloves. I did once hear there \/as such 
 a book printed, and that his Majesty 
 said, the Qiieen 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, 17 14; the Qiieen died 
 the I st 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 han()\'i:riax succession. 
 
 I . Letters of Sophia of Osnabruck to 
 her Brother, Charles Louis of the Pahi- 
 tinate. Translation. (In Briefwechsel 
 derHerzogin Sophie. Leipzig: Hirzel, 
 18S5, 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 
 strongly 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 l)e put in the 
 
 fortresses who has not taken oath to him, 
 and the whole land shall do him hom- 
 age and obev 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 ofiicial 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 ecz<5 yearly, 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, Xov. 30, 1679. 
 Your approbation concerning the 
 •' ancestors " is of no small importance ; 
 kackcn gat vor all and eat one must, 
 even if the rest has to come after. 
 Xevertheless it is a disagreeable matter, 
 although there is a precedent in the 
 marriage of the prince of Orange whose 
 wife is of no better l)irth nor descended 
 from a more chaste mother. Besides 
 she only brings him a kingdom in 
 prospect, whereas here we ask like 
 Jodclet : " 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 marria<je.
 
 The Hanoverian Succession 
 
 229 
 
 Hanover, March 15, 1680. 
 [Ernest Aujjustus has succeeded to 
 the duchy of Hanover, by the deatli 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 retainei's 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 moie 
 than a hundred thousand ; and, as lie 
 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 stockjisch 
 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 ^louder I " 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 capucliins 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 jnarrv 
 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. VIIL) 
 
 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 ; he 
 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 themselves 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 tlie English 
 and how you were for a reasonable 
 freedom of thought both in ecclesiasti- 
 cal and civil matters. And lie will be 
 able to say still more. . . . 
 
 riie Electress to Lcihiiitz. 
 
 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 o[ 
 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 Eriettd^ to the 
 Electress. 
 London, SejDt. 11-31, 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 ta 
 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 
 (jf 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 aliout it, without starting in ta 
 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 ga 
 by way of Brussels to Holland, where
 
 / 
 
 O'lHK I'.i-t' .'Wi- IJurttJ, 
 
 I I .ui.^\iiim d li,iu-i'c r/ii-t. ALilir-AfjiffEL Jioi^SqirETaC omp': jy4 
 
 'ic /latMafiM 
 
 ,» s mMUXMe n ri i m ^spr
 
 The Hanoverian Succession 
 
 231 
 
 we sliall have the honor of seeing the 
 King. 
 
 1 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 suhject. 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 
 ^•cry much obliged to those who show 
 attachment to me and my descendants, 
 and as regards you in particular I shall 
 remember it all mv life. . . . 
 
 4. Unsigned and undated Letter^ 
 in English^ to the Elcctress 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 gi'eater 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. 
 
 Tiie 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 is absolutely 
 " necessary that a fiirt/ier declar- 
 " at ion of the Limitation and suc- 
 " cession of the Crown of England 
 
 " be made i)i 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 \veight, 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 vour 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 5 13 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 onlv 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- 
 suatlcd, is very malicious, as if they 
 were not firm to the protestant religion, 
 which is the foundation of this debate. 
 This is an unhappy accitlent, 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 cjuiet, 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 
 interestetl 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. 
 
 V Extract from Burnet. 
 
 1705. 
 
 . . . 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, antl 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 wdiole 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 
 tlience it was inferred, that the danger 
 was apparent and dreadful, if the suc- 
 cessor should not l)e brought over : if 
 King Charles had been in Spain when 
 the late king died, probablv 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 
 
 33 
 
 her, and apprehended that sucli a 
 motion might be made by the wiiigs, 
 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 tliat 
 could befall. This the Duchess of 
 ISIarlborough 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 
 Avas then sevcnty-hve ; 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. 
 
 Ilerrenhausen, Nov. ^, 170^ 
 
 My Lord : . . . I thank Heaven that 
 I am in good health and that I liye 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 fur the Qjieen, whom I shall never 
 cease to honor, and that I am eager for 
 the favour of which she has giycn me so 
 many pioofs 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 
 IVIajesty has ordered my name to be 
 inserted in the prayers in the churches. 
 
 ~l . 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. . . . 
 
 Memoir. 
 
 Sept. I, 171 2. 
 That in regard the Qiieen 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 : 
 Xow in regard these expressions are 
 general : 
 
 Let it be insisted on at the General 
 Treaty of Peace ( Utrecht^ on the 
 part of the Honse of Hanover : That 
 the successor., or one or more of that 
 Honsc, may have a House and a 
 Rcvoiiic assigned to thetn in Eng- 
 land., and tnay have an Attorney 
 General and other Oncers assigned 
 to them to take care of their Affairs., 
 as the first J^rinces of the Blood. 
 This will try those Ministers who 
 advised the Qiieen 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 ynay 
 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 obloquv, as 
 secretly endeavouring to deprive him. 
 
 Leibtiitz to the Hlectress Sophia. 
 (Undated.) 
 
 . . . Tlicy keep saying that the Qiieen 
 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 patientlv 
 for what He has decreed about it. Un- 
 less one of those gentlemen of the 
 British ministrv writes to your Electoral 
 Highness I will not believe tiiat the 
 Qiicen is so far gone. 
 
 The Electress Sophia tn Leibnitz. 
 Hanover, April 27, 1713. 
 . . . Poor Dr. Hutton had so 
 often preached to nic that the C^uccn 
 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 trancpiil. I 
 
 liave 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, 1713. 
 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 Qiieen 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. 
 
 Tlie Lllectress Sophia to Leibnitz. 
 Hanover, Feb. 29, 17 14. 
 . . . 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 
 ve.xes and annoys me. So many books 
 are written for or against that I dont 
 take the trouble to look at them. . . .
 
 w. 
 
 ry^/ 
 
 t:i-^ 
 
 
 Viro Nobilil?>i.no l0AN>4 1 WAlL R AVKN. Nccmriimt Ekctori, 
 JBruniV.conrt, ,t Litnel.Mr genii. Coniili^xo ^J^i-'^^J^^^^^^^^^^j^/r/Jr^Sij^i^'v^
 
 The Hanoverian Succession 
 
 235 
 
 March y. 
 . . . Qiieen Anne is splendidly 
 well. She will have to hurry up ami 
 die if I am to be queen as you desire. 
 
 Leibnitz to tJic Elect r ess SopJtia. 
 
 April 7, I 714. 
 ... If Mr. Ilarley 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. 
 
 TJie Electi-ess to Leibnitz. 
 Hanover, May 20th, 1714. 
 . . . Mr. Harley's mission con- 
 sisted only in letters of the Qiieen 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 Harley 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 Qiieen 
 had Cotterel forbid him the Court. 
 . . . Air. Harley offered me a pen- 
 sion from the Qiieen, 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, wlio 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.) 
 
 M:.y 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 wliich you would not 
 choose should be made on your own. 
 I am firmly persuaded that vou 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 authontv, however fatal the con- 
 sequences mav 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 people 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.
 
 2^6 
 
 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 oE the 
 most sincere friendship with which 
 I am, etc. 
 
 Dean S-^vift to tJic Earl of Pctcrhor- 
 
 Otlgll. 
 
 (Swift's Works. Sir Walter Scott's 
 Edition. Vol. XVI. p. 109.) 
 
 London, ]May iS, 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. IMolyneux, an 
 Envov, to Lord Marlborough. (In 
 Coxe : Marlborough, Vol. VI. p. 2S1.) 
 
 Hanover, Thursday, June 7, 1714. 
 
 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 vilhiinous 
 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, 171-I. 
 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- 
 trv 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, wlio 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 Rheingnnine, who 
 has been with her these fifteen 3ears, 
 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 mickt of this concern those 
 letters arrived, and those I verily be- 
 lieve have broke her heart, and brought 
 licr with sorrow to the grave. The 
 letters wcie 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 
 reatl, and walked, and spoke a great 
 deal in relation to them. I believe she 
 walked three hours that night. The 
 next morning, which was Thmsday, I 
 heard she was ou*: of order ; and on 
 going immediately to court, she ordered 
 me to be called into her bedchamber.
 
 The Hanoverian Succession 
 
 '^'1^1 
 
 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 tlie 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 AHEDEN. 
 
 I . An Account of the Divorce of 
 C^eorge of Hanover from Sophia Doro- 
 thea of Celle. Published in 169:;. (In 
 Historische Zeitschrift, Vol. 4S, p. 
 232.) Translated. 
 
 [The emendations in italics were 
 made by ^Madame, the Duchess of Or- 
 leans, and the well-known Leibnitz. 
 It nuist be remembered that they were 
 both warm friends of the House of Han- 
 over. The wliole 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 arc 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 Conntess Kihiii^sniark iL'Jicn 
 sJie ~vas at Hatnbiirg^ had taketi steps 
 in this matter with regard to the 
 Cotmfs older brother -who died i)i the 
 Morea ; bnt thev ivere o)ilv children 
 the?t and they ivould 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- 
 claretl countess (princess, rathe?') and 
 engaged to the young prince of Wol- 
 fenbuttel 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.] {Afalse/iood. 
 The elect ress of Bnmswick had noth- 
 ing to do -with this marriage^ of zvhich 
 she did not approve.) The affair was 
 soon settled, and one of the conditions 
 of the match was that there should 
 henceforward be the riglit of primogen- 
 iture. [Hanover and Celle were to 
 form one duchy, which should not be 
 subdivided among the heirs. — Ed.] 
 Thus the maniage was consummated 
 rather from motives of interest than 
 from affection. {Falsehood. The 
 pritzce really loved /lis xvife.) [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 
 ivith all the regard imaginable [Oh 
 no, they did not ! — Ed.] tlie electoral 
 prince took good care not to beat her. 
 Those ivho believe or zcrite sncJi thi?tgs 
 do not in t/ie least knozv the prince., 
 or rather do not icno'V the zcay in 
 zvhich persons of this quality live. 
 The most that could have happened is 
 that -vhen the princess had committed 
 many improper actions the prince may 
 have said a fezv sharp -cords to her. 
 It is true slic sofnetimes complained to 
 her father and mother ., heaping up 
 falsehoods., for there vcas mucii malice 
 in Jier ?iature. . Moreover they ivould 
 never have believed her so guilty at 
 Celle if her letters had 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 
 cliiefly able to recover his place in her 
 affections because the princess was not 
 happv. 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 w'as 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 1693. — Ed.] 
 ( Falsehood. TJiey took good care not 
 to make any suc/i 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 fallinsf out
 
 George I. and the Princess of Ahlden 239 
 
 \vith the Electress of Bnindcnhuijij 
 [Sophie Charlotte, her sister- in-hi\v], 
 because one clay the j^rincess 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 picjued, havinor provoked her into 
 w^ashing, the Electress, greatlv annoyed 
 took occasion to harm her enemv by 
 telling the prince her brother a thou- 
 sand tales that she had heard ; this, al-. 
 thougli he knew only too much already, 
 helped to goad him on still more. 
 ( This story is a pure i)ivc/itio?i. It 
 is tri(c tJie Electress a?/d the princess 
 had not seen each other yor tzco years 
 or more, but that zvas for another 
 reason. When the opera honse seemed 
 to he on fire., Count Kofiigsmark 
 cried eagerly .^ save the electoral pri/i- 
 cess ; and as, in the co)ifnsion , the 
 gentleman in xvaiting 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 zvas taking- care 
 of her, was left alone until Prince 
 Maximiliaft, perceiving it, extricated 
 her from the crozvd. The electress 
 having rallied her a little on it, the 
 princess zvas mortally ofi'ended.^ 
 Meanwhile the count, seeing that they 
 ^vere being watched more than usual, 
 resolved to leave and to take service 
 %vith the elector of Saxony. Hut 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 
 jiiade 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 Brunszvirk had enough faithful 
 servitors in his ozvn land, not to need 
 Italians), and the count disappeared 
 the day before tlie one fixed for his de- 
 parture. If one undertook to report 
 all the rumors on this subject one could 
 till 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 haz'e accused 
 him of dealings zvith 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 too 
 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 zvere 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, zvhich is a sign that he zvill 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 fur tlie 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 \^EUza- 
 beth Charlotte^ remarks on t/iis that 
 there are no siifns that the electoral 
 prince xvould have been ivilling' to re- 
 ceive her back. She says the prin- 
 cess zcas crazy enough to tie up if she 
 refused to return and made such pro- 
 positions., ichich are indeed fctitious ; 
 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 galantcrics 
 that made her conduct suspected — 
 as xch en formerly at Celle she almost 
 forced you?ig Ilaxthausen to receive 
 her letters., -which proved the ruin of 
 this you nj^ man at that courts not to 
 speak of her passion for the Rhein- 
 gt'cif nor the liberties she took at 
 Venice of -vhich certain Frenchmoi., 
 like the marquis dc la Seve., I think., 
 Blanc hefort and others told stories at 
 the court of jFrance.) 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 shoulil be sent away, and that lier 
 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 tiie 
 laws forbid it to the guilty party they 
 put it into these same terms. Thev 
 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 in this 
 matter appeals to tribunals of the 
 empire are tiot 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 i-epentance 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 tliat 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. . . . 
 Slie 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 inv 
 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 
 wouid 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.] 
 
 3. General Stanhope to the Emperor 
 of the Romans, Charles VI. (Leibnitz, 
 \Verke,\"ol. IX. p. 504.) Translation. 
 London, July 30Lh-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 w'ord to your 
 Imperial and Christian Majesty that the 
 Qiieen 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 Qiieen'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 wer.e 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 for 
 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 seriouslv em- 
 barrassed ; but all who have seen the 
 Qiieen and spoken to the physicians 
 are ;:erfectly 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 L)trecht). 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 ami Christian 
 Majesty's very humble, very obedient 
 and very devoted servant. 
 
 4. Letter of Lady ^Llry Wortley 
 Montague to her Husband. (Works, 
 Vol. L p. 244.) 
 
 [York.] 1714- 
 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 tlie 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 I This morning all 
 the principal men of any figure took 
 post for London, and we are alarmed 
 with tlie 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 L (Works, London, iS45,Vol. 
 II. p. 43^-) 
 
 George the First was an honest, dull, 
 German gentleman, as iniHt 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 Kciulal, with whom he 
 
 passed most of his time, and who had 
 all influence over him, was very little 
 above an idiot. 
 
 Lnportunitv 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- 
 trv. 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 Finance. (In Belsham, History 
 of Great Brittain, London, 1S05. 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 verv 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 wdio 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
 
 //.W/v^/^l'^'T,^/././////- i^r/^7/;///^r fA^Y//j. //////>^. S^/^a^ Jtr. M 
 
 ■ '^ ^j^Zycn It Oifnm M^Xt^e/i- .»
 
 George I. and the Princess of Ahlden 243 
 
 persons wlio 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 secresv 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 enterj^rising. 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- 
 <inces 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 hini. 
 The princess of Wales sometimes in 
 public attacks the king in conversation ; 
 he answers her ; but some who are 
 well apprized that his inajesty 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 hisvalet- 
 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
 
 2 44 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 deatli, 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, In* the old 
 Elector's order, and buried under the 
 floor. This fact ^ucen 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 (r); and he 
 
 married the Duchess of Kendal with 
 his left hand. . . . 
 
 George H. 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 Qiieen 
 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 Qiieen, she found a whole 
 and half-length portraits of the Elec- 
 tress hung up in the apartment ; George 
 n. 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 H. was not less credu- 
 lous ; he believed in vampires. 
 
 GROUP XXVI. 
 
 KING GEOIUiE II, AND (yL'EEX CAROLINE. 
 
 I. Extracts from Lord Ilervey's end of the town, and on her petticoat 
 
 Memoirs. (London : Mmray, 1S4S.) ,,x\ the diamonds she could hire of the 
 
 In October (1727) tlic ceremony of Jews and jewelers at the other; so that 
 
 the Coronation was performed with all the appearance and the truth of her 
 
 the pomp and magnificence that could finery was a mixture of magnificence 
 
 be contrived ; the present King differ- and meanness not unlike the eclat of 
 
 ing so much from the last, that all the royalty in many other particulars when 
 
 pageantry and splendour, badges and it comes to be nicely examined and 
 
 trappings of royalty, were as pleasing traced to what money hires or flattery 
 
 to the son as they were irksome to the lends. . 
 
 father. The dress of the Qiieen on Her (the Qiieen's) predominant pas- 
 
 this occasion was as fine as the accumu- sion was pride, and the darling pleas- 
 
 lated riches of the City and suburbs ure of her soul was power; but she 
 
 could make it ; for besides her own jew- was forced to gratify the one and gain 
 
 els (which were a great number and the other, as some people do health, 
 
 very valuable) she had on her nead and by a strict and painful rigiiue^ which 
 
 onhcr shoulders all the pearls she could few besides herself could have had 
 
 borrow of the ladies of ([uality at one patience to support, or resolution to
 
 (j K iJ ^ ... .,- ... ... . 
 
 'I, .n /„■/./- /,■..„/„.., ^ /z.A.r..^: >>.:...:, ,/./■
 
 King George II. and Queen Caroline 245 
 
 adhere to. She was at least seven or 
 eight hours tetc-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-a-tetcs 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 powder, 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 ruellcs 
 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 l)irthday the Court removed 
 from Kensington to London ; and the 
 Qiieen, 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-i'ooms 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 
 familv ill than to acknowledge them- 
 selves to be so. . . . 
 
 1734- 
 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 dav after the King's birthday : 
 he w^as to do so now, and therefore to 
 take his leave this evening of the 
 Qiieen. . . . "You know. Madam," 
 said he, " I can do nothing without you ; 
 whatever my industry and watchfulness 
 for your interest and w'elfare 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 lind 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- 
 sessing your ISIajesty, 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 Qiieen. Sir 
 Robert started at this, and said, " If 
 he has, it is impossible he can ever 
 forgive me. . . . For God's sake 
 find out whether it ivas so or not, and 
 let 7ne 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. . . . 
 
 ^735- 
 One trouble arose on the King's 
 going to Hanover which her ^SLijesty 
 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 Qiieen, 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 Qiieen 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 Qiieen 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, which 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 
 liis 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
 
 WlJ.H£LMINA 
 
 C H A II J. () T 1 A . 
 
 qUEEN 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 Qiieen 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 
 Qiieen 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 Qiieen, 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 Kinor Georo^e II. and Oueen Caroline 
 
 him." . . . "Vou 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 Qiieen, *' 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 Qiieen. . . . 
 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 Qiieen 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 w^ith 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 Qiieen 
 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 cverv 
 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 Qiieen, " 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 Qiieen 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 Qiieen as he went by, 
 that she had overlooked the Duchess of 
 Norfolk. The Qiieen made her excuse 
 for having done so to the Duchess of 
 Norfolk, the last person she ever spoke
 
 ( See rage J53.)
 
 King George II. and Queen Caroline 249 
 
 to in pul)lic, and tlien 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 Oueen 
 immediately some snake-root with Sir 
 Walter Raleigh's cordial. . . . Soon 
 after 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 Qiieen'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 Qiieen'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 ISIinisters came to Court, the 
 King, in the midst of all his real and 
 great concern for the Qiieen, sent to 
 his pages to bid them be sure to have 
 his last new rufHes 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 vSloane 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 Qiieen had often 
 declared themselves very averse, were 
 put upon her legs. . . . At six o'clock 
 on Friday morning the Qiieen 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 Qiieen, 
 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 Qiieen 
 complaining that her wound was ex- 
 tremely painful, and desiring to have it 
 dressed, Ranby and Shipton were called 
 in to her, and upon opening the wound 
 declared it had already begun to mor- 
 tify. . . . 
 
 It is not necessary to examine whether 
 the Qiieen'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 maitresses. . . . To which 
 the Qiieen made no other reply than 
 '''•ah I 1)10)1 Dieiil ccla )i' c»ipeche
 
 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 
 Qiieen'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 w^hat the 
 Qiieen 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 Qiieen'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 w^ere the terms in which he 
 was forever now talking of the Qiieen, 
 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 
 postui'e every minute, he would say ta 
 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, " Mon Dicu^ g?i' cst-ce-g?ie 
 vons regardez? Coinme7it peat-on 
 fixer ses yeiix comme qa? Vos vc?/x 
 I'essonblcJit a ceux (f tin veau a qui 
 o7i vient de couper la g07'ge / " . . . 
 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 
 Qiieen 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 Qiieen's apart- 
 ment. . . . The grief he felt for the 
 (^ueen, as it was universally known 
 and showed a tenderness of which the 
 world thought him before utterly in-
 
 
 
 ( See page 253.)
 
 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. 
 
 3. Lord Chesterfield's character of 
 Qiieen Caroline. (Works, Vol. II. 
 
 P- 437-) 
 
 Qiieen 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 
 'woniaii was liked by most people ; but 
 the ^uecn was neither esteemed, be- 
 loved nor trusted, by anybody but the 
 King. 
 
 A Ballad of the Day. (From 
 Morris: Early Hanoverians, p. S2.) 
 
 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 ot 
 
 Spain. 
 Then if jou would have us fall down and 
 
 adore you, 
 Lock up your fat spouse, as your dad did 
 
 before vou. 
 
 3. Lord Chesterfield's Character of 
 George II. (Works, Vol. 11. p. 434.) 
 
 . . . Everything in his composition 
 was little ; and 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 this 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 chanibrc, 
 that the gaping crowd admitted to his 
 pulilic levee have, from his looks and 
 silence, concluded that he had just 
 received some dreadful news. Tacitus 
 would always have been deceived by 
 him. . . . 
 
 lie well knew that he was governed 
 by the Qiieen, while she lived ; and 
 that she was governed by Sir Robert 
 Walpole : but he kept that secret 
 inviolablv, 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 iiuder himself. . . . 
 He died unlaniented, though not un- 
 praised because he was dead.
 
 2 52 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, 
 by turns, 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, ISIaitland Club, 
 1S42, p. 1 18.) 
 
 1756. 
 
 ... 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 verv prettv. 
 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 nie where I would be, would I 
 have my toes trode off? " Is your toes 
 trode off.?" said I. '' Xo," 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 lire. 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, 1S21, 
 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- 
 tlaiuited in the closet as he shewed 
 himself at Oudenarde and Dettingen, 
 he might not have proved quite so 
 good a king in this limited monarcliy. 
 
 In the drawing-room, he is gracious 
 and polite to the ladies, and remarkably 
 cheerful and familiar with those who 
 aie handsome, or with the few of his
 

 
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 Klno^ Georo^e II. and Oueen Caroline 2S 
 
 o 
 
 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 wealth and 
 prosperity. 
 
 So complicated a subject lends itself 
 so little to our svstem of illustrating 
 events by contemporary nan^atives 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 undei'taking in which a prince 
 of his house had ever been engaged." 
 Grimly the young Qiieen, 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 : " Wfe 
 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 dii^ections." 
 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 w^ere to be divided between him- 
 self, the Emperor and the French King ; 
 but again the old jealousies arose, and 
 again Frederick, enabled bv his bril-
 
 2 54 
 
 The Seven Years' War 
 
 Jiant 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 rQg\.\\?Lr f/y'pon. 
 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 JNIaria Theresa herself. As for 
 France, she had remained outwardly 
 on good terms with Frederick ; indeed 
 in 1 7=53". \vhen the defeat of George 
 Washington at Fort Duquesne made 
 certain the prospect of a long and 
 bitter struggle with England, Frederick 
 lU'ged 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 l)c attacked. " If tiiis 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, riLnot 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 mvaluable 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 
 ciil 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- 
 lowx'd, 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 tlie 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- 
 torv at Minden offset the former's
 
 EylMC ABETb 1 
 
 ,/\ II \ Kiirn " • ( til iii> r/i f ri ''
 
 The Seven Years' War 
 
 255 
 
 cfushing defeat by the Russians at 
 Kuneisdorf and the surrender of 12,000 
 men at Maxen. Liegnitz and Torgau 
 helped still furtlier 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 
 1 761 , 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 fui'ther 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, wdiose 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 the French, 
 Canada and that part of the present 
 United States which is east of the 
 Mississipi.] 
 
 GROUP XXVII. 
 
 THE ACCESSIOX OF GEORGE III. 
 
 I. Extracts from Waldegrave's 
 ^Memoirs. (London, 1S21, p. 63.) 
 
 1756. 
 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 Fligh- 
 ness uncommonly full of princely prej- 
 udices, contracted in the nurserv, and 
 
 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 oi more serious 
 studies. . . . 
 
 175S. 
 
 The Prince of Wales is entering into 
 his 2 1st 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 
 he 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, 
 anil 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 shf)rfer and easier than 
 from a state of total inaction. 
 
 He has a kind of imhappiness in his 
 temper, which, if it be not conquered 
 before it has taken too ileep a root, will 
 be a source of fre(juent anxiety. When- 
 ever lie 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 bv studv or contemplation, 1)ut 
 
 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 f^attei-y, 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. ■■"->^ • ■•J- 
 
 During the course of the 'la'st -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. 
 
 1755- 
 . . . 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 
 liis 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 Whales, who was 
 not overnice in the choice of ministers, 
 used frecjuently to say that Bute was a
 
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 FREDERICK AND PETER MAKING PEACE. 
 
 ContL-mporarj news leaf. 
 
 ( See page ^55.)
 
 To ^'"^ '' - '-"-^^ ^ . / 
 
 '■'f.
 
 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 
 the prince her husliand may not per- 
 haps have been the most competent 
 
 judge. . . . 
 
 1756. 
 . . . 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. IL 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 Intciidant 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, and 
 nobody saw him : Lord Bute, indeed, 
 was with him alone some hours every 
 day, to instruct him, as he pretended, 
 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 botii 
 openly. He interfered in everything, 
 disposed of everything, and undertook 
 everything, much too soon for his inex- 
 perience in business.
 
 2s8 
 
 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 
 tliat tedious and painful distemper 
 either procured or allowed him, in 
 acquiring a great fund of prematui'e 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 tiie best able to encounter 
 him. Their arms fell out of tiicir 
 hands, and they shrunk under the 
 ascendant wliich liis genius gained over 
 tlieirs. . . . 
 
 The weight of his popularity, and 
 his universally acknowledged abilities, 
 obtriuled 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* ^4-) 
 
 1758. 
 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 soroe 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, 1S94.) 
 
 Xo 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, 
 US 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 
 iind 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 
 €ver 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 
 j:)cace 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 
 expcfisive ivai'^ and of obtaining- an 
 honotirable 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 expctisivc but 
 Just and necessa7-y -war ; and that after 
 \.\\e. words /lonourablc peace should be 
 inserted, in concert -with onr allies. 
 ... It was two o'clock of the follow- 
 ing afternoon before the King would 
 yield to the alteration. . . . 
 
 Mr. Pitt v/as 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 vmion 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 
 countrv to the brink of ruin. . . .
 
 2 6o 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 privv Coun- 
 cillors to meet at one o'clock, at St. 
 James's July Sth, on urgent and impor- 
 tant business. The business itsself was 
 an absolute secret. Everybodv con- 
 cluded that so solemn and unusual a 
 summons of the Council was to give 
 fuller sanction to peace. How great 
 v/as the general surprise v.hen 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 mvsterv, 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 verv voung ladv of the 
 
 most blooming beauty. . - . What 
 concurred to make her formidable to 
 the mother and favourite, w^as, 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, w-as 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 courtsliip 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. L 
 p. 90. ) 
 
 {^Account of ^iicen CJiarlotte by- 
 Sophia Stuart^ daf(j^/itcr-in-la~iu 
 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 Georore 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 
 dc chambrc 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 fas 
 r 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 — " tf/ 7nes 
 bijoux V — '■'' Mo?i enfant^'' said the 
 Duchess, " tn Ji' en as points 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 ^vas her first 
 appearance. Mr. Drummond sat at 
 her right hand. She asked him about 
 his journey, and of England, and then 
 added : — " On }nc dit que voire Roi 
 est tres extrenienioit bean et tres-aim- 
 able" which seemed to raise a smile 
 both in him and tlie Duke. A little 
 frightened, she next added : — " Appa- 
 
 remment vons etas vcnu dcmandcr la 
 Princesse dc Priissc. On dit qu' die 
 est tres-belle ct gu'elle sera voire 
 Reine?" " y'c demande pardon a 
 voire Aliessc ; jc n' ai aucune com- 
 mission po?ir 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 
 splendidlv 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 : — '"'' Allons^ ne faites pas 
 V enfant — /// vas etre Reine d' Angle- 
 terre." jNIr. Drummond then ad- 
 vanced. Thev 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 poultrv also for the same object. 
 When the day for ber 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 utter 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 fid- 
 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 Qiieen's train as 
 bridemaid, did her more prejudice than 
 all that was invented against her. . . . 
 In mv 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 Qiiecn, Lord West- 
 moreland, old and dimsighted, seeing 
 Ladv Sarah in the rich habit of bride- 
 maid, mistook her for (^uecn, and was 
 going to kneel and kiss her hand. 
 
 But while the arrival of the (^ueen 
 was expected, and the approaching 
 ceremonies of the wedding and corona- 
 tion engrossed the attention of the jMib- 
 
 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 
 thovight 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 
 unwari'antable 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 
 w anted to combat Pitt and did not dare, 
 said, "he did not know why he was 
 ealled to council, if he was not at lib-
 
 The Accession of George III. 
 
 26 
 
 erty to debate; nml 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 nevy 
 Qiieen 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 Qiieen 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 '"'' gn' elle 11c vonlait pas se 
 coiicJicr avcc les poziles.^^ 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 fixetl 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 I — 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, tlie 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 
 acquiescnce ; and nothing could rouse 
 the nation, but his quitting the sphere 
 of business, where he was so treacher- 
 ously controlled. He had desireil 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 3nd 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 
 w^ould 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's 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 honoiu- of triumph on the former.
 
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 lyttprr/ ^ (:-}fi<fuft>f (1^ Xewlbundlaud. ' 
 
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 Su/AifW, ThcFcoplc of England.
 
 The Accession 
 
 of George III 
 
 265 
 
 Little was wantino; to turn the pageant 
 into a tragedy. Riots ensued, and 
 many persons were insulted. 
 
 8. An Ilieroglyphical, Enigmatical, 
 and Paradoxical address, to the Laird 
 of the Bute relative to the Loss ot New- 
 foundland. (See opposite page !) 
 
 Among the other evil Consequences of the 
 "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 i-eceive Ad- 
 dresses from all the Cities and Cor- 
 porations of Great Britain, upon everv 
 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. their parent state has been diametrically 
 (In Life of Pitt. London, iSio.) opposite to the fundamental principles 
 May 27, 1774. of sound policy. . . . By blocking up 
 Mv Lords: ... If we take a tran- the harbour of Boston, you have in- 
 sient view of those motives which volved the innocent trader in the same 
 induced the ancestors of our fellow* punishment with the guilty profligates 
 subjects in America to leave their native who destroyed your merchandize; and 
 country, to encounter the innumerable instead of making a well-concerted 
 difficulties of the imexplored regions of effort to secure the real offenders, you 
 the western world, our astonishment at clap a military and naval extinguisher 
 the present conduct of their descendants over their harbour. . . . 
 will naturally subside. There was no My Lords, this country is little 
 corner of the world into which men of obliged to the framers and promoters 
 their free and enterprising spirit would of this tea-tax. The Americans had 
 not fly with alacrity, rather than submit almost forgot, in their excess of grati- 
 to the slavish and tyrannical principles, tude for the repeal of the stamp act, 
 which prevailed at that period in their any interest but that of the mother 
 native country. And shall we wonder, country ; there seemed an emulation 
 my Lords, if the descendants of such among the different provinces, who 
 illustrious characters spurn, with con- should be most dutiful and forward in 
 tempt, the hand of unconstitutional their expressions of loyalty. . . . But 
 power, that would snatch from them the moment they perceived your inten- 
 such dear-bought privileges as they now tion was renewed to tax them, under a 
 contend for? Had the British Colonies pretence of serving the East India Corn- 
 been planted by any other kingdom pany, their resentment got the ascend- 
 th.an our own, the inhabitants would ant of their moderation, and hurried 
 have carried with them the chains of them into actions contrary to law, 
 slavery, and spirit of despotism ; but as which, in their cooler hours, they would 
 they are, they ought to be remembered have thought on with horror ; for I 
 as great instances to instruct the world, sincerely believe, the destroying of the 
 what great exertions mankind will nat- tea was the effect of despair, 
 urally make, when they are left to the But my Lords, from the complexion 
 free exercise of their own powers. And, of the whole of the proceedings, I think 
 my Lords, notwithstanding my inten- that administration has purposely irri- 
 tion to give my hearty negative to the tated them into those violent acts, for 
 (jucstion now before you [a bill for which they now so severely smart ; 
 <|uartcring sokliers in America], I can- purposely to be revenged on them for 
 not help condemming, in the severest the victory they gained by the repeal of 
 manner, the late turbulent and unwar- the stamp act. . . . For what other 
 rantable conduct of the Americans in motive could induce them to dress tax- 
 some instances, particularly in the late ation, that father of American sedition, 
 riots of Boston. But, my Lords, the in the robes of an East India Director, 
 mode which has been pursued to bring but to break in upon that mutual peace 
 th.em back to a sc-nse of thtir duty to and harmouv. . . .
 
 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 // 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 ancestiy, 
 driven to those deserts [ ? J 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 i-epeal of the stamp act was in agi- 
 tation, conversing in a friendly confi- 
 dence with a person of undoubted re- 
 spect and authenticity [Fx-anklin] . . . 
 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 x^merican War 
 
 they have — what, my Lords? — their 
 zuoods and their liberty. . . . The 
 spirit which now resists your taxation 
 in America, is the same which formerly 
 opposed loans, benevolences, and ship- 
 money, in Enghmd : the same spirit 
 which called all Enghmd o// 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, tJiat no subject of Ejigland 
 shall be taxed but by liis 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 riglit 
 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 libertv 
 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 transmitteil us from America ; 
 when you consider their dcccncv, 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 mv 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 f)f 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 : tJiey must be 
 repealed — yo7i xvill repeal them; I 
 pledge myself for it., that you zcill in 
 the end repeal them ; I stake my 
 reputation on it: — I ivill consent to 
 be taken for an idiot., if they arc not 
 fnally 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 down 
 your arms, and she has given you the 
 Spartan answer, " Come take." 
 
 2. Speech from the throne of George 
 III., Nov. iS, 1777. (In Thackeray's 
 Life of Pitt, Vol. II. p. 332.) 
 
 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 preparin*^ 
 for such further operations as the con- 
 tingencies of the war, and the obsti- 
 nacy of the rebels may render expedient. 
 . . . Antl I still hope, that the deluded 
 and unhappy Inultitude 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 
 lovalty to their Sovereign, and of at- 
 tachment to their mother-country ; and 
 that they will enal^le 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 flatterv 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 
 Jiavc stood against tJie zvorld : nozv 
 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 suli- 
 stantial dignity, ai'e 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 canno^, 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 sfencral
 
 270 William Pitt and the American War 
 
 (Amherst), now a noble Lord in this 
 house, a long antl laborious campaign, 
 to expel five thousand Frenchmen from 
 French America. Mv Lords, yon ca?i- 
 itot 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 nuich. 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 retiretl from the American 
 lines ; he ~vas obliged to relinciuish 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 
 resentniL-iit, the minds of vour enemies 
 — to overrun tiiem 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 mv 
 tountry, I never would lay down mv 
 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 iidnnnan sava<re 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 meicenary 
 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 i^def ending the employ- 
 7)ic)it of tlic 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 I to hear such principles con- 
 fessed — to hear them avowed in this 
 House, or in this country: — principles 
 ef[ually 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 
 l)y every duty. My Lords, we are
 
 William Pitt and the American War 2 7 1 
 
 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 eveiy 
 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 
 iincestor [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 religioti^ 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 ! — 
 Jiell-hotinds^ I say, of savage tvarl 
 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 againimplore 
 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 Sezvard'' 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 difliculty, 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 jvhich 
 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 Dutcli 
 invasion, many noble Lords mav have 
 read in history; and some Lords (look- 
 ing keenly at one who sat near him) 
 
 mav, perhaps, remember a Scotch in- 
 vasion." 
 
 While the Duke of Richmond was 
 speaking he looked at him w^ith 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 iS years of age. 
 
 Lord Chatham w^as 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 <lying state, to perform ! 
 
 Such was the glorious end of this 
 Great Man ! 
 
 GROUP XXIX. 
 
 GE0R(;E III. AND IMS HEIR APPAREXT 
 
 I . Extract from the Memoirs of Vis 
 
 count Melbourne. (Edited by Mc- 
 Cullagh Torrens. \'<)1. I. p. 1:^6.) 
 
 Lor<l 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 anil 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 t(j 
 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 :iim a great service. He wished her 
 to choose a person of attainments and 
 accomplishments to be governess to the 
 Princess Charlotte. Al)ove all tilings, 
 he desired that the lady should teach 
 his daughter always to tell the truth.
 
 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, " Yon 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 Qiieen having taught us to equivo- 
 cate ; and I want you to help me in the 
 matter." 
 
 Letter of \Iajor- General Greti- 
 ville to Earl Cor/iivallis. (Cornwal- 
 lis Correspondence. London, 18^9. ■ 
 Vol. L p. 34S.) 
 
 Dec. 20, 1787. 
 
 We are totallv guided by [the 
 
 Prince of Wales], and thorouglily 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 
 it 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. Papeudiek' s 
 fourtials. (London, 18S7. Vol. I. 
 p. 256.) 
 
 1781. 
 
 . . . 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.] 
 
 Gefieral Grant to Earl Corfzxvallis. 
 (Cornwallis Correspondence. London, 
 1859.) 
 
 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 Di(ke of Dorset to 
 ^Lr. Eden (Auckland Correspond- 
 ence 1,393), C)ct. 6, 17S6. 
 
 ... I never saw the King in such 
 spirits, — they rise in proportion to the 
 stocks, which are beyond the sanguii.c 
 expectations of everybody. The Heir 
 apparent is still at Brighton and drives 
 the whole world away. 
 
 Mr. Storcr to Mr. 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 i\o a T /letire qu' il est. So 
 there is but little chance for the X's. 
 Adieu. 
 
 Nov. 14, 17S8, 
 
 Dear Eden : All sorts of news are 
 drowned in the great event of tlie
 
 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 lie is to 
 be saddled with a Council. . . . 
 
 2. Extracts from the Diary of 
 Madame d'Arblav. (London, 1S42, 
 Vol. IV. p. 273.)' 
 
 Saturday, Oct. 25 — Nov. i. 
 
 I had a sort of conference with his 
 Majestv, 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 
 Qiieen is evidently in great uneasiness. 
 . . . During the reading this morning, 
 twice, at pathetic passages, my poor 
 Qiieen shed tears. " How nervous I 
 am I " she cried ; " I am quite a fool ! 
 Don't you think so?" " No, ma'am ! " 
 was all that I dared answer. . . . 
 
 Nov. 5tli. 
 
 O dreadful day I 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 1 
 The King at dinner, had broken forth 
 into positive delirium, which long had 
 been menacing all who saw him most 
 closely ; and the Qiieen was so over- 
 powered as to fall into violent hysterics. 
 -\ll the Princesses were in misery, antl 
 the Prince of Wales had burst into 
 tears. No one knew what was to 
 
 f'.llovv. . . . 
 
 At length news was brought that Dr. 
 Warren was arrived. I never felt so 
 rejoiced ; I could have rim 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 Qiieen' 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, 
 with pain. . . . 
 
 Nov. 7. 
 
 . . . Wliile I was yet with my poor 
 Roval 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 w^ould 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 
 (lid 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 hoklly up to him, 
 and took him by the arm, and liegged 
 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 
 must come to bed, sir : it is necessary 
 to your life." And then lie was so 
 surprised, that he let himself be drawn 
 tdong just like a child ; and so they got 
 him to bed. 
 
 Letter of J. \V. Payne to Richard 
 Brinslcy Sheridan. (In Aloore's 
 -Sheridan, p. 355.) 
 
 ... I find that the present distemper 
 has been very palpable for some time 
 past. . . . the two days (viz : yester- 
 <lay 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." . o . 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 
 JSIarquis of Biickifigham . (In Buck- 
 ingham Papers. London, 18^3, p. 444.) 
 
 Nov. 1 1, 17SS. 
 . . . 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. . . . The Qiieen 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 ami 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 Qiieen 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 
 anxietv. It would have been well if
 
 276 George III. and his Heir Apparent 
 
 the errors of the pliysiciaiis 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. lie 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 Kevv, 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 
 Ik'dchamber to the Qiieen, 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. Tapendiek 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.] 
 
 Extractfrotn Tzc/ss' s Life of Lcrd 
 Chancellor Eldon. (London, 1S44. 
 Vol. L 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. Grefiville to the Mar- 
 quis of Biickingham. 
 
 Dec. 7, 17SS. 
 ... 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 woukl 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 ta 
 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.
 
 i,\ K,i A) I I ;■. 
 
 A- Af.tJtsTYW Coj r /■i-rio.y.
 
 George III. and his Heir Apparent 2^"] 
 
 Dec. 31. 
 
 You will see in the Opposition papers 
 that they are beginning to abuse the 
 Qiieen 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 tliese few days, that 
 would make your blood run cold ; but 
 I dare not commit them to paper, be- 
 cause of my informant. 
 
 Lord Bulkclev to ^larqitis of 
 Buck ingJi am. 
 
 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. 
 Air. Papendiek, however, was ready. 
 He begged the Qiieen 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 C^ueen, out of sight of the King, 
 sat patiently to see it done, which was 
 
 achieved without one drop of blood. 
 The condition of the Qiieen w^as 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 
 w^as, during this season of affliction, 
 very heartless, ... At first the Qiieen 
 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 aflirmative. 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." 
 
 K, . Extracts from the Auckland Corre- 
 spondence. 
 
 Lord Sheffield to Mr. Llden. 
 Dec. 12, 17SS. 
 . . . 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- 
 Hned in his house. . . . 
 
 Pitt is phiying the game without 
 temper or judgment ; and his dechira- 
 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. 
 
 1 7th 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 
 Mr. 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 
 ditViculties in tlie way which common 
 cases have not. . . , Will the new 
 regent be soon named.' I think yes. 
 Will he change the Government di- 
 rectly? Wdl the country bear this.^ 
 Will the King's recovery be hazarded, 
 siiould he in the commencement of it 
 find great changes.' These are verv_ 
 serious speculations on which I don't 
 venture to give an opinif)n. It is an 
 awful moment, my dear friend. Mav 
 it please God to conduct us safelv 
 through it I 
 
 Lord Sheffield to Mr. Eden. 
 
 Nov. 23, 17SS. 
 
 . . . 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 pulilic 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 
 IVIarquis of Buckingham." The Qiieen 
 has not seen the King since the first 
 davs 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 Joint Eden to ^Ir. Eden. 
 Dec. 1 1, 17S8. 
 ... I this day heard from a stranger 
 that symptoms of this disorder appeared 
 in 17S3; if so, I should imagine occa- 
 sioned bv the American War. . . . We
 
 fe' 
 
 PITT.
 
 George HI. 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 tYom 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 {A'///o- Will iam the Fonrth^ , 
 but I am not of this opinion ; however' 
 he seems to have spoken so freelv of 
 the Prince of Wales as to indicate a 
 design of retiring if the Prince becomes 
 Regent. 
 
 Captain Sidney Smithy R. N.^ to 
 Mr. Eden. 
 
 Dec. 30, 17SS. 
 . . . The "opposition" physicians 
 about his JMajesty (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 Qiieen 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 Qiieen should, 
 as the Parliament, having established 
 their right ami" overset the injudicious 
 claim made l)y 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 
 .17;'. Eden. 
 
 Jan 1 6th, 17S9. 
 ... 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 Sheffield to Mr. Eden. 
 Jan 14, 17S9. 
 . . . ]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. 
 
 ^liss Sayer to ^ladame Huber. 
 Jan. 29, 17S9. 
 . . . 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, wdio, being entirely 
 for Mr. Pett, is vastly teased by the 
 princes, \vhom she never fails to answer 
 extremely well. A few days ago Airs. 
 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
 
 28o Georae 111. 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 Qiieen she would leave the 
 room. 
 
 Extract from Lady Harcourf s 
 Diary. (Massey's England, Vol. III. 
 p. 3S9.) 
 
 Jack Payne, the Prince's secietary 
 and confidential man, one day uttered 
 some ribaldry about the Qiieen 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 roval master's royal mother in 
 that style? " 
 
 Mr. Hiibcr to Mr. Eden. 
 
 Feb. 3rd, 17S9. 
 . . . The resolutions of the Com- 
 mons of Wednesday the 28th are : 
 " That a committee be appointed to 
 communicate to H. R. II. 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 nan. 
 
 6. Diary of Madame d'Arblay. 
 
 Kc'w Palace, Feb. 2. 
 
 What an adventuic had I this m(;rn- 
 ing ! one that has occasioned me the 
 severest personal terror I ever experi- 
 enced in my life. . . . 
 
 I strolled itito tlie gartlens. I had 
 proceeded in my cjuick 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 w-as 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 !"...! fairly be- 
 lieve no one of the whole party could 
 have overtaken me, if these words, 
 from one of the attendants had not 
 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 Arc/ibis'//op of Canterbury 
 to Mr. Eden. 
 
 Feb. 13, 17S9. 
 
 ... 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 Hiibcr to Mrs. Ede7i. 
 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 inteiTuption. ISIr. 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 saxv 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; tliere 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.
 
 2 82 Georore IIL and his Heir Apparent 
 
 The Queen surely will think there can 
 never be enough clone for Dr. Willis, 
 and I hope he will experience the grat- 
 itude of a generous nation in its most 
 powerful esteem. 
 
 Lord Jlazckcsbu/'V to Earl 
 Coru-callis. 
 
 Jan. 6, 17S9. 
 . . . 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 Qiieen 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 Qiieen 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 Coririuallis. 
 Feb. 21, 17S9. 
 • . . The Chancellor was yesterday 
 with II. M., and for the first time 
 talked t<j him upon business, and 
 opened to him, in part, the measures 
 which had been taken during his con- 
 finement. I understand that II. M. 
 was by no means the worse for this 
 conversation. Dr. Willis, wIkj attends 
 him, says that, were he a private man, 
 he should advise his following now his 
 his usual occupation. . . . But, God 
 knows, 11. M. will have a severe trial 
 when he is informed of all that has 
 passed (luring the unhappy interval. 
 Kvery 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 possessiorr 
 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 sv/oop 
 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 Qiieensbury 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. jMore 
 affection and concern could not have 
 been shown, and H. M. will have the 
 satisfaction of finding how much he 
 is personally beloved. jMr. Pitt has 
 conducted himself with the greatest 
 judgment and ability — Fox has beerk 
 dangerouslv ill. 
 
 7. Extracts from Mrs. Harcourt's 
 Diary. ( In Fitzgerald, Life of George 
 IV. London, iSSi, Vol. I. p. 177.) 
 
 Feb 22. 
 Lady C. Finch said the King showed 
 the greatest affection to the Qiieen. 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. II. 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 lookctl very 
 thin but was in excellent spirits, mak- 
 ing his usual jokes and looked full of 
 kindness ant! benevolence. Genl. H. 
 removed from the K's mind a preju- 
 dice as to the Qiieen'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 
 C^ueen afterwards came together to see 
 me. She was dreadfully reduced and 
 shewed me her stays, which would 
 wrap twice over. . . . 
 
 M?'. Store/' to ^Ir. 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.] 
 
 S. Letter of jVIiss 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. 
 
 Xor 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 Georsre our King."
 
 284 
 
 The Death of Nelson 
 
 GROUP XXX. 
 
 THE DEATH OF NELSOX. 
 
 1. Letter of Nelson to Alexander 
 Davison. (Qiiotetl in Barrow's Auto- 
 biography. London, 1S47, P- -79-) 
 
 Victory, 24th July, 1S05. 
 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 1S05 Lord Nelson 
 arrived in England, and, being much 
 out of health, retired to a small place 
 he had at Merton, where he remained 
 in {(uiet 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. Wliilc he was 
 thus tormenting himself in matters of 
 this kind, and in calling to mind tiie 
 hope he had expressed to Admiral 
 Collingwood. of rejf)ining him in the 
 month of Octf)lK'r, 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 
 Admiraltv, 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. (Qiioted from Barrow.) 
 
 13 Sept. 
 
 .\t half-past ten drove from dear, 
 dear 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. I. 
 
 (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 touchy 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. 2ist. 
 
 (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 
 liis 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. 
 
 JSarroxu. 
 
 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 
 Euryahis^ remained on board the 
 V/clory 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 l^ictory^ 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 
 Tcmeraire 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 
 pointrayed 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 I 'ictory 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 \'ictorv' 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 Xelson 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 instantlv 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 wtirk. 
 Hardy, to last long;" and declared 
 that ''through all the Battles he had 
 been in, he had never witnessed more 
 ccKil courage than was displaved by the 
 \'ictory\s crew on this occasion." 
 
 The I'ictory 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 
 tliirty wounded. IKt 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, w^ith a view to disable 
 her before she could close w^ith 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 Xelson 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 szxg.\^ . 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 } 'ictory; having also an Enemy's 
 ship, said to be La Foiig^ieuse^ 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 Tcmeraire^ as 
 was just before mentioned, was between 
 tlie Redoubtable and La Fouirueuse.
 
 
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 Nv 5 ■ 

 
 The Death of Nelson 
 
 287 
 
 The J?edoi(d^adle commenced aheavy 
 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- 
 iory twice ceased firing upon her by 
 Orders transmitted from the quarter 
 <leck. 
 
 At this period, scarcely a person in 
 the Victory escaped unhurt who was 
 exposed to the Enemy's musketry; but 
 there were frequent huzzas and cheers 
 hpard 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 
 Santissima Trinidada and the Biicen- 
 taur ; and the starboard guns of the 
 middle and lower decks were depressed 
 und fired with a diminished charge of 
 powder, and three shot each, into the 
 Redoubtable. This mode of firing was 
 adopted by Lieutenants Williams, King, 
 Vule, and Brown, to obviate the danger 
 of the Tciiieraire" 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 in 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 
 fear that the enemy would take fire, and 
 both the Victory and the Tcmcrairc 
 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 desired one 
 of the Midshipmen stationed there to go 
 upon the quarter deck and remind Cap- 
 tain Hardy of that circumstance, and 
 recjuest 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, " Doctpr, 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 IJattie, and fears for the 
 safety of his friend Captain Hardy. 
 Dr. Scott and Mr. Burke used every 
 argument they coulil sii'_"jc^t. to relieve 
 his anxiety. 
 
 Mr. Burke told liiiii " 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-Camp 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 hands 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, Hai'dy. 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 
 praised, 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 Colling wood 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, 
 '■'• Anc/wj'^ 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 yozi anchor. 
 Hardy." 
 
 Captain Hardy then said : " Shall zue 
 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 Ladv 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 liy speak- 
 ing to him ; and when he had reinained 
 speechless about five minutes, his Lord- 
 ship's Steward went to the Surgeon, 
 who had been a short time occupied 
 with the wouniled in another part of 
 the Cockpit, and stated his apprehen- 
 sions that his Lordship was dving. 
 
 The Surgeon immediately repaired 
 to him, and found him on the verge of 
 dissolution. He knelt down bv his 
 side, and took up his hand ; which was 
 cold and tiic pulse gone from the wrist. 
 
 On the Surgeon's feeling his fore- 
 licail, which was likewise cold, his 
 Lortlship o];)ened his eyes, looked up, 
 and shut tiiem a<rain. 
 
 The Surgeon again left him, and re- 
 turned to the wounded who required 
 his assistance ; but w^as 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 : hisLordship 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. 
 
 =;. Letter from Captain Pascoe, flag 
 lieutenant on board the Victory. Writ- 
 ten thirty-five years after the battle. 
 (In Memoir of Codrington. London, 
 Longmans, 1S73.) 
 
 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 
 ine 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. i6atthe top-gallant mast- 
 head, and there it remained until shot 
 away.
 
 
 .«^ ^ 
 
 
 w-' 
 
 ^^^r^" /»^; 
 
 
 C^^/^^ ir^iCZ I- i^^^t^,, 
 
 /'uAiL'Mi /^tJJS.-
 
 The Battle of Waterloo 
 
 291 
 
 GROUP XXXI. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 
 
 I. Letter from the Duke of Welling- 
 ton to Sir Charles Flint. (In Booth's 
 Battle of Waterloo, 3rd Edition. Lon- 
 don, 1S17, Vol. I. p. 95.) 
 
 W^ould 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 iSth. 
 
 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 i8th, 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 18 13-15. Stuttgart, 
 1876, p. 151.) 
 
 Gosselies, June 25, 1S15. 
 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 ai"e 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 onlv 
 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 mv 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 mv suite ate
 
 292 
 
 The Battle of Waterloo 
 
 sound and well and I am looking eager- 
 ly for news from you. 
 
 I am trembling so that 1 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 ofHcer 
 of the Guards. (In Booth's Battle of 
 Waterloo. London, 181 7, Vol. L p. 
 61 ff.) 
 Village of Gommignies, June 22, 1S15. 
 
 . . . 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. ^L, 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 w-as 
 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. 
 Buonaparte was about to use against us 
 an arm, which he had never yet wielded 
 but with success. Confidentlv reiving 
 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, w'ere 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 
 Brunsw'ickers, withsimilarsuccess. . . . 
 Buonaparte 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
 
 /'///// /\' ^^/'/:r// /Y// //////////////
 
 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 hiy. 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 I " 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 Hre into them, which 
 inade 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 column 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 cominof
 
 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, 
 iSSi, p. 349.) 
 
 Brussels, June 13th, 1S15. 
 
 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 whidi 
 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- 
 telligildy 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 l)e 
 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 Clausevvitz and Countess Dohna. 
 (In Pertz-Delbriick, Das Leben Gneise- 
 naus. Vol. IV. p. 535-) 
 
 Henappe-sur-Oise, not far from Guise,. 
 June 24, 1S15. 
 
 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 suffei'ed 
 violent attacks and fought on the iSth,, 
 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
 
 (tf/i. til Sr/iiU,i 11)11 iffi . Ortuli. t/O'O , ifr,it . i„ J'ostn iini r4 . .iiij . I83(.
 
 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 I'eserves 
 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. Qiiite 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. jMy sabre was once 
 knocked out of its sheath, another time 
 shot in pieces. My contusion is not 
 wortli mentioning. God preserve you, 
 brave German women ! For such 
 women one is glad to fight. Mav my 
 daughters grow up with such senti- 
 ments in their breasts. 
 
 Gneisenau. 
 
 7. Correspondence between Gneis- 
 enau and Miiflling. (In Pertz-Delbriick, 
 Gneisenau' s Leben, Vol. IV. pp. 542 
 ff . ) Tra nsla tio n . 
 
 a. Gneisenau to ^liXffling. 
 Compiegne, June 27, 1S15. 
 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 1 6th and iSth be avenged. 
 
 vox Gneisenau. 
 
 b. Miifflhig to Gjieiscnaii. 
 
 Xesle, 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 
 Bhichcr 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 thiswas not the 
 case such an execution would go down 
 in historv 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 Bliicher were to proceed against 
 Napoleon it would be an acte de de- 
 voiiement^ 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 cedcrotis a 
 a7icun sonverain ; and why should we 
 do something that sovereigns would not 
 do or about which anvone could say to 
 us, they would not have done it? 
 
 r. GneisenaK to Muffling. 
 
 Senlis, June 29, iS[5. 
 
 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, luit 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. vox GXEISEXAU.
 
 
 XAPOLEOX JUST BEFORE THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
 
 NAPOLEON ON TIIK ISLAM) OF ST. HELENA. 
 (From an engraving of Horace Vernet's picture.)
 
 The Battle of Waterloo 
 
 297 
 
 d. Gneise7ia7i 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 Pru.ssians. 
 We have been impoverished by him. 
 Our nobilitv 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 1 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, 
 1S33, pp. 97 ^■) 
 
 February 25, iSiS. 
 
 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 w^ere 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, Wlien 
 five o'clock came, he conducted me to 
 the audience-room, which I entered 
 alone. 
 
 Immediately before me was the 
 Qiieen. 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 Majestv 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. 
 
 Tlie Qiieen 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 her 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 
 Qiieen. She sat on a velvet ciiair 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 pulchru filia pulchrior.
 
 „„,./,,... ^/iZ/^. 
 
 
 t 
 
 
 KING Wir.LIAM IV. AS A BOY. 
 (Engraved by Bartolozzi.)
 
 An American Minister at London 299 
 
 So appeared the drawing-room of Qiieen 
 Charlotte. 
 
 April Sth. 
 
 The Princess Elizabeth was married 
 last evening to the Prince of Hesse 
 Homburg. . . . Our invitation was 
 from the Qiieen, given through the 
 Earl of Winchelsea, nearly three weeks 
 before. . . . Soon iif ter 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 glorv of (^ueen. 
 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, iSiS. 
 
 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 difticult 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 generallv the reasoning 
 would be riglit. 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 
 Qiieen. 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 Qiieen. 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. vSuch is the usage of the 
 country.
 
 KING WILLIAM IV.
 
 qUEEN VICTORIA, 
 f About 1S40 A. D. Anonymous cngriiviiig-.)
 
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 (Contemporary caricatures.)
 
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 CHRISTEXING OF H. R. H. THE PRINCE OF WALES, 184I A. D. 
 
 (Contemporary caricatures.)
 
 CENTRAL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 University of California, San Diego 
 
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