THE Monmouth's Entertainment at Court. "How well have Williams, Jones, and W[inning]ton, [Henry B.= LL. Delamere. -The Recovery of Peace. 1683. HE shallow mind and weak heart of Monmouth speedily lost its faint perception of gratitude for a peril escaped, after obtaining a legal pardon through the affection of King Charles. We who now read the secrets of that carefully arranged interview, which had appeared to be the natural result of a spontaneous confession, are not likely to insist so strongly on the sinfulness of Monmouth's drawing back from the obedience which he had offered to pay when he put himself wholly under the King's direction. "I confess, Sir, I have been in fault, misled, and insensibly engaged in Things of which the Consequence was not enough understood by me." For a wonderfully short time, and perhaps chiefly through the influence of his wife, whom at rare intervals he saw at Moor Park, if not at Hedge-Lane, he had submitted to tuition, and given utterance to the penitential phrases that had been dictated to him. On the 24th of November he had been interceded for by York; next day he was freed from the shadow of being in custody, and took his place at Court in the manner described in the following "New Song" of a Devonshire Lad. But no sooner had the London Gazette appeared, with the advertisement of his pardon being granted (quoted already on p. 407), than he fell back on his old associates, received their reproaches for his tame submission that imperilled the Cause of Rebellion, and with the inconstant recklessness of his nature tried to escape from his promises. Forsworn and treacherous all round, false to the King, to the Duke, to his wife, to his fellow-conspirators, to the companions of his pleasures, and the duties of his station, he was utterly unworthy of the numerous advantages which Fortune had lavished on a selfish and conceited libertine. There had been some call made by the Yorkists for Monmouth to be sent to the Tower, if only for a few days. The plea was, that the conspirators would be rejoicing and encouraged if he escaped all punishment. The King not only refused to gratify their wish, but sent to the Duke of Monmouth a present of £6000. The rapid succession of these favours re-awakened York's suspicions. It made him now insist strongly on Monmouth's absolute submission, and assistance for the punishment of others since he was freed. 414 Monmouth's final Letter, and its recall. The publication of the London Gazette, No. 1880, on November 27th, gave Monmouth an excuse to break his promise of signing a full written confession. Two of his party were with him when the Gazette was received, viz. one Hazzard of Kensington and Dr. Chamberlain. He declared to them that the statement was false, and should be altered in next Thursday's issue. They speedily spread news of his denial through the coffee-houses. Like Macbeth (as shown on p. 398), Monmouth had felt unwilling to be reputed to "play false, but yet would wrongly win." Deeming himself now secure, and in funds, he tried to regain the forfeited influence over his party by an affectation of independence; talked of being misrepresented, misreported, called Howard a liar and a rogue (as no doubt he was, but although "devoutly to be believed," it was not held "fit to be so set down in print "); and was not easily induced by Halifax to write a paper, which could be shown to the Council: then a Second Letter was dictated by the King as more suitable, which Monmouth copied with his own hand. Copy of a Letter to the King, signed by the Duke of Monmouth. I have heard of some Reports of me, as if I should have lessen'd the late Plot, and gone about to discredit the Evidence given against those who have died by Justice. Your Majesty and the Duke know how ingenuously I have own'd the late Conspiracy, and tho' I was not conscious of any Design against your Majestie's life, yet I lament the having had so great a share in the other part of the said Conspiracy. Sir. I have taken the liberty to put this in Writing for my own Vindication, and I beseech you to look forward, and endeavour to forget the Faults you have forgiven me: I will take care never to commit any more against You, or come within the danger of being again misled from my Duty, but make it the business of my life to deserve the Pardon your Majesty hath granted to your Dutiful Monmouth. Monmouth, still facing both ways, objected to some phrases, but was told that it must be that, or nothing. He feared that the paper might be used against young Hampden, and hang him: was assured that it would not, and was reminded of what Gaston Duke of Orleans had been obliged to do before he could make his peace with his brother Louis XIII. All this time Monmouth kept associating with the discontented conspirators, and was swayed towards them like a pendulum. That night he supped with the elder Hampden and Trenchard, under whose influence he next day demanded to have back the paper, refusing to confirm it before the Council. He persisted, against all remonstrances of the King, who at last told him that "since he was such a beast and dishonest fellow to behave himself at that rate, he should have it, but should restore the original paper" in the King's handwriting, from which Monmouth had copied it. At first pretending that it was burnt (in order to keep it for inspection of his rebellious associates), Monmouth was obliged to fetch it, and Execution of Sydney a result of Monmouth's treachery. 415 deliver it, before he regained at that price the paper he had himself signed. The Vice-Chamberlain, Saville, was then sent, December 7th, to forbid him appearing at Court. He was once more in disgrace. "A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways.' Charles had double cause to have addressed him as Israel judged Reuben: "Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel." Before Monmouth, in his vacillation, had again offered to sign any other paper of the same nature as those already withdrawn, the brave Algernon Sydney had been sacrificed, almost solely because of these perplexities. Respited for three weeks, he would have been spared, but for Monmouth's double dealing compelling decisive action. Sydney was beheaded on December 7th, the very day that Monmouth was banished from Court. On this execution special ballads follow, in due course, on our p. 426 and succeeding pages. We had already written our condemnation of the injustice shown at his trial (compare the account we gave in The Bagford Ballads, pp. 908, 1004), and time has not weakened the impression on our mind of his sterling worth and nobility of character. He is the one resolute hero who stands forth from the crowd of paltry plotters, turncoats, canting hypocrites, and perjured traitors of his time. Previous to Algernon Sydney's execution, but near the end of 1683, several fresh ballads on the Duke of Monmouth were published. Some of these, (at present hidden or lost), are entered in the "G.” Register of the Stationers' Company, fol. 80, 111, whence we now transcribe them, direct:— Sept. 27, 1683: Same date, and person. Entered for, etc. The Dutchess of Monmouth's The Duke of Monmouth's kind Answer to his The Duke of Monmouth's Constancie to his Loving A Pattern for Princes: the Duke of Monmouth's Ludicrously apparent to us, in later days, is the inaccuracy of views and statements given by these popular ballads, as the pretended "Lamentation of the Duchess," who was only too well accustomed to be separated from her husband through his own fickle habits and licentiousness. Then the affectation of his "Constancie to his loving Duchess!" being "praise undeserved, is satire in disguise." If the ballad-writer had known more of the truth, he would have heard neither "loving complaint in his absence" nor any "kind answer." Since they are at present unfound, and therefore out of reach, we must needs dispense with them. But the fourth entry records "the 1 Substantially the Duke of Ormond's account, furnished at the time to Sir Robert Southwell, who committed it to writing. Also agreeing with what Sir Leoline Jenkins on 15th December, 1683, wrote to the Lord Deputy of Ireland. 416 What the ballad-writers knew of these matters. Duke of Monmouth's Entertainment at Court," at the very date when by his own misconduct he was incurring a fresh banishment. Therefore, we bring on our next page the ballad, probably identical with "the Pattern for Princes," consequently of date December 1st, 1683. It is a spirited and graphic description of the scene at Whitehall, drawn by an eye-witness, but one who is not deceived into becoming an adherent of Monmouth. Would that we knew who was author of the ballad! It contains indignant remonstrance against the favour publicly shown to Monmouth, soon after his treason and ingratitude against the King. For this clever and spirited ditty the tune named is "I'll tell thee, Dick, where I have been;" which belongs to Sir John Suckling's often-imitated but never-equalled "Ballad on a Wedding," thus beginning: to which tune John Cleaveland wrote a similar song, inferior, but of intrinsic merit, "A Sing-Song on Clarinda's Wedding," beginning, Now that Love's Holiday is come, And Madge the Maid hath swept the room, And trimm'd her spit and pot, Awake, my merry Muse, and sing The Duke of York, writing to William of Orange on January 4th, 168, said truly concerning Monmouth, "since he was no truer a convert 'twas very well he shewed himself so soon, for had he stayed and dissembled he might have done much mischief; but now he can do but little for all the world is now satisfied he is never to be trusted, and then he has all his vain fancies in his head." We reserve to a later page, in the coming Final Monmouth Group, some particulars concerning his neglected wife, the Duchess Anne Scott; mentioning her love of dancing, with the accident which lamed her, and obtained for her the mocking nickname of "dear Limp" from heartless lampooners, whom neither beauty nor virtue could disarm of their scurrility. To the very end of his life, Monmouth was unworthy of her, and in his final interview might have recognized that his own misconduct had alienated him from her affection. He had pursued his own course of infidelity, with notorious disregard for her feelings and her welfare. He may have held some hope of interesting her to employ in his behalf her well-known influence with James the Second. But it was too late to re-awaken the extinguished warmth of her affection. Thus it was: Thou askest me, Child of Spring, Thou askest, wherefore I sigh'd? [Wood's Collection, 276a, art. 347; Ashmolean, G. 16, fol. 134.] [Monmouth again at Court.] A New Song [of a Devonshire Lad]. TO THE TUNE OF [Sir John Suckling's] I'll tell thee, Dick. VOL. V. CH H'il tell thee, Tom, the strangest story, 'Tis news beyond expressions: Vor Rogues I zaw in zich a place, And how they did "recant 'em." When I was late at London Town, And having on my best array, As vine as on a Holy-day, Zoons, I made bold to enter. Up stairs I went, which were as broad And dirty too as any Road, Or as the streets o' th' Zity: Had'st thou been there, thou would'st have said His Majesty had kept no Maid, God zooks, and that's a pity. When I was up, I did discern Their cloathing cannot well be told, I doft my Hat when I came in, Quoth I, "Pray which of you's the King?" 6 12 18 [Cf. p. 456. 24 Beefeaters. Cf.p. 426. 30 36 2 E |