The little boy spent his infancy with his mother in Paris, then came to London in 1656, when mother and son were swiftly clapped in the Tower by Cromwell. Vainly did Lucy proclaim that her boy was the son of "King Charles". She was expelled from England, and died in Paris at the age of twenty-eight, probably from syphilis." It was then that the boy was placed in the charge of Lord Crofts, and was henceforth known as "James Crofts".
When he came to England again in 1662, and was presented at Court, his father now restored as King Charles II, the thirteen-year- old "James Crofts" caused a sensation by his ravishing good looks. Grammont described him as a dazzling, astonishing beauty. All contemporary accounts agree. He had his mother's sensuous seductiveness and his father's sweetness of nature.6 His popularity was further increased by the sterility of the King's marriage, beside which he presented a radiant contrast. Rumours again multiplied that the King would ultimately recognise him as his lawful son, and heir to the throne of England, as there seemed little chance of his producing an heir with his queen. The notorious Barbara Villiers, the King's new mistress (and mother of another of the dukes we shall deal with in this chapter), is even said to have slept with the boy. She was certainly a nymphomaniac, and the scandalous tale is not improbable.6 At all events, it was decided that the boy should be betrothed and married as soon as possible, and a wife was found for him in the twelve-year-old heir to the mighty house of Buccleuch, Anna, Countess of Buccleuch in her own right. She was rich, she was noble, she was pretty, and she was sole heiress since the death of her father and sister. The Scotts of Buccleuch were an ancient and respected family of Scottish chieftains well established before this marriage was contemplated. But they had only an earldom; the dukedom of Buccleuch was created in celebration of the marriage.
Legally, it was doubtful whether Anna should have succeeded to the earldom, which had been created in 1619 with remainder to heirs male; it ought to have become extinct with the death of the 2nd Earl, Anna's father, and she would have been simply Lady Anna Scott. But everyone has assumed that the succession must have been amended by patent or charter at a later date to allow remainder to heirs general. No such patent has ever been found; there is no record or trace of it.7
However, the little girl in question was accepted and known, whether rightly or wrongly, as the Countess of Buccleuch. Any son by James Crofts would eventually succeed as Earl of Buccleuch. But the King was not satisfied. Intoxicated with the success, beauty, the very existence of his son, he determined that he should bring Anna new titles, in return for all the estate which she was bringing to the marriage. She had vast estates in seven counties, plus four domaines and an income of £10,000 a year. Accordingly, the boy assumed the surname "Scott" in anticipation of his entering that family and continuing it (the Scotts of Buccleuch would otherwise have come to an end with the death of Anna in 173.1). He was made a Knight of the Garter. Then, on 14th February 1663, he was created Baron Scott of Tyndale, Earl of Doncaster, and Duke of Monmouth, with precedence over all other dukes not of royal blood. Henceforth, he was to be fourth man in the realm, after the King, the Duke of York, and Prince Rupert. A few weeks later, on 20th April he was married to the little Countess of Buccleuch, and the same day they were created Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch, and Earl and Countess of Dalkeith. It is as the Duke of Monmouth that he is generally known to history. The King wrote to his sister: "This is Jameses marriage day, and I am goeing to sup with them, where we intend to dance and see them a bed together, but the ceremony shall stop there, for they are both too young to lye all night together."8
The King described his son in the marriage contract as "Filio nostro naturali et illegitimo" Honours were heaped upon him in dizzy sequence. It was a happy time. Pepys noted that the King continued to dote upon his son.
All this over-indulgence and flattery in childhood bore ill fruit as the young Duke of Monmouth grew up. In 1666, when he was seventeen, Pepys wrote that he was vicious and idle and would never be fit for anything. As his personality developed, he was seen to be a weak character, feeble in moral principle, easily swayed, of little intelligence, dilatory, volatile, a procrastinator. With his inability to make a decision and adhere to it, he was to be an easy tool in the hands of unscrupulous politicians. His chief recommendation continued to be grace and personal beauty. But being the acknowledged favourite son of the King (who by this time had other progeny by successive mistresses) he thought he could commit any act with impunity. He cannot escape responsibility for the sorry tale of Sir John Coventry, who was disfigured for life on Monmouth's orders. Sir John had made a slighting reference in the House of Commons to the King's consorting with actresses. Monmouth's response was vengeful in the extreme; he set a gang of thugs upon Sir John, who attacked him in the street, pinning him against the wall, and cut off his nose to the bone. Even allowing for nose-slitting as a fairly common method of revenge in those brutal times, this was not the action of a man of responsibility. He was only twenty-one at the time, and his reputation suffered.
The remainder of Monmouth's life belongs to the history of England, and there is no room here to rehearse all the vicissitudes of that sad story. Briefly, the impressionable and malleable Monmouth fell victim to the Machiavellian plans of Lord Shaftesbury and his faction, who sought to establish the bastard on the throne and rule England through him. Charles was bitterly disappointed in him, loving him as he did above all his other children, and the history of their relationship shows the conflict between political wisdom and filial love which beset the astute King. Time and again, Monmouth was banished and disgraced, then favoured with the King's goodwill when he showed remorse or contrition. Charles knew what a weak man his son had become and was always ready to forgive his shortcomings. But his patience was tried too often. Involved in the plot to assassinate his father, the "Rye House Plot", Monmouth confessed, was forgiven, and the following day retracted his confession and asked for his letter back. The King told him to go to hell. Monmouth said he was afraid that his confession would implicate others, but his changes of mind were always prompted by simple indecision rather than nobleness of motive.
Monmouth could be seriously entertained as a possible King of England only as long as rumours supporting his legitimacy persisted. It was such a romantic notion, and Monmouth such a handsome, dashing man, that the people wanted to believe that Charles II had married Lucy Walter. So strong was the belief that the King had twice to swear solemnly before the Privy Council that he had never married any woman but the Queen. Still the rumours were rife, and just as they encouraged Monmouth to believe that he was the rightful heir, so his supporters increased, and the rumours multiplied proportionately. They gave rise to Monmouth's disloyalty, and were in turn fostered by it. There was even a story that the marriage contract or proof of its existence, lay in a black box in the safe keeping of the Bishop of Durham, who passed it on to his son-in-law Sir Gilbert Gerard. But Gerard, summoned before the Privy Council, denied all knowledge of it, and to this day no proof has been produced that the black box or its contents ever existed.10 Nevertheless, the legend will not die; subsequent events have given it a more intriguing weight. In the first place, the relevant page in the marriage register at the Church where the King is supposed to have married Lucy Walter was found, years later, to have been torn out. Secondly, there is a story that when the 5th Duke of Buccleuch, a direct descendant of Monmouth, was looking through old papers at Dalkeith House in the time of Queen Victoria, he came across the black box and the marriage certificate. He summoned his son and heir to his presence, and said, "I am now going to do something which should have been done a long time ago. The publication of this document in my right hand might have severe repercussions. It is something no loyal subject should possess." He then threw it into the fire.11
Charles II, whatever his faults, was a man of principle and truth. He was deeply loyal to the institution of monarchy, and would envisage nothing which might weaken it or place the lawful
right of succession into disrepute. The heir to the throne was the Duke of York, his brother (later James II), who was politically and personally unpopular. He was, however, the heir and Charles would not compromise with his right to inherit the throne. Steadfastly, he refused to consider for a moment the legitimising of his son the Duke of Monmouth, to whom, in spite of everything, he remained devoted as only a loving father can be. When the King died, Monmouth was abroad, hatching plots. They both had cause to regret the gulf that had been erected between them by the easy ambitions of a spoilt child.
With the accession of James II, Monmouth and his followers (the compliant Duke doing most of the following) prepared to invade. On 20th June 1685 he was proclaimed King of England at Taunton, with the designation "King Monmouth" to avoid confusion with the James already on the throne, who was at the same time declared a traitor, and his parliament at Westminster a traitorous convention. Meanwhile, there was naturally a price on Monmouth's head, and he had been stripped of all his English dignities and titles. His rebellion was as feeble and irresolute as his character. His troops were routed at a battle on 5th July, and he himself fled. Disguised as a farmer, with two of his henchmen, he wandered the countryside for three days until he was discovered by a search party, hiding in a ditch. The "cowardly and self-seeking traitor"12 was taken directly to the Tower.
With characteristic remorse, the Duke declared that it was never his idea to be proclaimed King. He signed a document which was meant to settle once and for all the question of his birth, but he may have been coerced, and we know that he was an easy prey to persuasion. He wrote:
"I declare yt ye Title of King was forct upon mee, & yt it was very much contrary to my opinion when I was proclaimed. For ye Satisfaction of the world, I doe declare that ye late King told me that hee was never married to my Mother."
No doubt with this act of contrition Monmouth saved his sons from the vengeance of the King and thus protected the line of the Dukes of Buccleuch from extinction. But the wording of the declaration is curious; he does not disavow his own belief in his legitimacy, by pointing out that his father had assured him of the contrary. To a certain extent, the question was left open.13
Hours after signing this document, Monmouth was dead. His end was harrowing. Pressed by the bishops to repent publicly of his rebellion, he would not employ the word, implying tacitly that it could not legally be considered "rebellion", but stated that he was sorry to have invaded the kingdom, and sorry to have caused bloodshed. In spite of their pestering, he would give no more. "I will make no speeches," he said, "I come to die ... I shall die like a lamb." No one can deny his courage. He refused to be blindfolded or tied, but of his own will placed his head on the block. He turned and asked to see the axe, then ran his thumb along the edge. "It is not sharp enough," he said, but the executioner reassured him, and he placed his head ready.
The first stroke of the axe did not sever his head. Monmouth turned and looked at his executioner, but said nothing. The second stroke wounded again, but the unfortunate man was still alive. He crossed his legs. At the third stroke, the deed was still not done, and the axeman lost his nerve and threw down the axe. The crowd was furious, and would have torn him to pieces had they been able to reach
him. Finally, Monmouth's head was cut off with a knife.14
* * *
We must now travel back a few years from 1685, when Monmouth died, to 1663, when the next duke who concerns us, Grafton, was born. The ancestress of the Grafton line was the infamous seductress Barbara Villiers, later Countess of Castlemaine, still later Duchess of Cleveland, "the finest Woman of her age".15 Charles II was already the father of three other illegitimate children besides James Crofts before he encountered Barbara Villiers, but none of his previous mistresses exerted such influence over him as she was destined to. She came from a single-minded ambitious family of courtiers with the determination to see their ambitions realised. They were expert flatterers, endowed with a beauty of body which they did not hesitate to use in the pursuit of their aims. The proof of their success lies in the enormous number of prominent and resourceful people who were or are descended from them. Barbara's cousin was George Villiers, 2nd Duke of Buckingham, a favourite with the King; his father, the 1st Duke, was lover and master of James I. The Dukes of Marlborough and Sir Winston Churchill are descended from Sir George Villiers (Barbara's great-grandfather) through his daughter Elizabeth Villiers. The Dukes of Atholl and Hamilton are descended from another daughter, Susan Villiers. There is Villiers blood in the Cecil family (Marquis of Salisbury), and in Lord John Russell and his grandson Bertrand Russell. Even our present Queen Elizabeth II is descended from Sir George Villiers through his son Edward. As for Barbara Villiers herself, she bore the King six children (at least he acknowledged six of them, though the paternity of some is open to doubt), and made herself the ancestress of not only the Duke of Grafton, but of Lord Castlereagh, Lord Melbourne, and Sir Anthony Eden (Lord Avon). No less than thirteen Prime Ministers trace their ancestry back to the seventeenth-century Villiers family. With such dynamic genes coursing through her veins, Barbara Villiers fell upon the sweet good-natured King as a praying mantis pounces on and gobbles up its victim.10
Even at the tender age of fifteen, Barbara had learnt to use her body to seduce and obtain what she wanted. With rich auburn hair and blue eyes and a flirtatious manner, she was not easily resistible; neither the King nor her countless other lovers, both before and after, can be blamed for succumbing to such obvious charms. In 1659, aged eighteen, she married an obscure person called Roger Palmer, who is only remembered for having been her husband. He was one of nature's cuckolds. Palmer was the father of not one of his wife's numerous offspring.
In the spring of 1660 the King met Mrs Palmer and took a fancy to her. It took no time at all for them to become lovers. Samuel Pepys was audibly moved by the sight of her. "I sat before Mrs Palmer, the King's mistress, and filled my eyes with her, which much pleased me."17 In February of the following year, a daughter was bora to her; Palmer said he was the father, everybody else said Lord Chesterfield was, but in time the King claimed that he was, and Palmer dutifully climbed down. Barbara then began to ask for, and get, the benefits of her royal liaison. Her quiet and obedient husband was made Earl of Castlemaine, so that she could proudly bear a title, and special arrangements were made in the patent of creation so that the title should pass to her male heirs, not his; this was tantamount to an explicit avowal that the affair was well and truly launched, and that Barbara intended to bear other royal children.
Two years later, Catherine of Braganza arrived in England to become Queen. Such an inconvenience was not allowed to interrupt the King's uproarious love affair with Barbara. He stayed with his mistress one whole week, every night and day, notes Pepys,18 and went so far as to spend his intended bride's first night in England with the infamous Lady Castlemaine. Everybody knew, no attempt was made to conceal either the affair or the insult to the innocent Catherine, and Barbara was henceforth the object of public scorn and reproach. Barbara was again pregnant, and she brazenly proposed that she should spend her confinement at Hampton Court, while the King and Queen were spending their honeymoon there. The King managed to resist this indelicate suggestion, but resistance to the lady's demands was becoming daily more difficult. She had a furious temper, could shout and scream, thump and rant, and burst into tears at will. If there was one thing the King could not abide, it was to see a woman crying; he would grant almost any favour to ease her distress, hardly stopping to reflect how simply a determined woman could (and can) manufacture a tearful crisis. So Barbara nearly always got her way.
Her second child and first son was born in June 1662. Poor Charles was torn again between his natural good manners towards his bride and the powerful spell this pretty hot-tempered passionate woman cast upon him. She begged him to make her a Lady of the Queen's Bedchamber, unaware of or unconcerned by the inappropriateness of such a suggestion. Charles agreed. When t
he Queen saw her name upon the list she struck it off in hurtful anger; she knew enough by now to realise that Barbara was her rival and that Barbara was winning. The Queen hardly spoke a word of English and did not understand the curious way in which this libertine Court operated. She had to capitulate. Charles insisted on keeping his word to Barbara, and the mistress was duly appointed to serve the wife.
Once Catherine had surrendered, she burdened Barbara with marks of affection and esteem. Her change of attitude is easy to comprehend when one remembers that she was deeply in love with her husband and wanted above all things to please him. If treating his loathsome and selfish mistress with respect would please him, then that is what she would do. Charles, who hated difficulties, squabbles, and tears, was delighted. He wanted everyone to be happy together without creating problems. At Somerset House in September, only a few weeks after the royal wedding, the King attended a party with his wife Queen Catherine, his mistress Lady Castlemaine, and his bastard son James Crofts by a previous mistress Lucy Walter, all in the same carriage. Charles was content.19
It was about this time that the unscrupulous and over-sexed Barbara reputedly made a play for the beautiful thirteen-year-old Mr Crofts, who was a kind of unofficial stepson to her. Pepys observed that she was "always" hanging on him. Sensing danger, the King married him off and created him Duke of Monmouth and Duke of Buccleuch only a few months later, in order, it was said, to rescue him from Barbara's attentions.20 The boy had been flattered, and was too much in her company.
The Dukes Page 11