CHAPTER VIII.

Bases on which Saint-Foix has founded his Theory—Disputes of Saint-Foix and Father Griffet—The Recollection of Monmouth becomes Legendary in England—Ballads announcing his Return—Indisputable Proofs of Monmouth’s Death in 1685—Interview of Monmouth with his Wife and Children—He is conducted to the Scaffold—His Firmness—The Last Words which he utters—Awkwardness of the Executioner.

In an anonymous libel, published in Holland under the title ofAmours de Charles II. et de Jacques II., Rois d’Angleterre, we read “that in 1688, a few days after the departure from London of King James II., overthrown by William of Orange, Earl Danby sent to seek Colonel Skelton, who had formerly been Lieutenant of the Tower, which post the Prince of Orange had taken away from him, in order to give it to Lord Lucas. ‘Mr. Skelton,’ said Earl Danby to him, ‘yesterday, when supping with Robert Johnston, you told him that the Duke of Monmouth was alive, and that he was imprisoned in some castle in England.’ ‘I have not said that he was alive, and imprisoned in any castle, since I know nothing about it,’ answered Skelton; ‘but I have said that the night after the Duke of Monmouth’s pretended execution, the King, accompanied by three men, came to remove himfrom the Tower; that they covered his head with a kind of hood, and that the King and the three men entered a carriage with him.’”[157]

With the exception of this story, in the exactitude of which Saint-Foix himself has not very great confidence, since he says, “These are books whose authors seek only to amuse those who read them,”[158]he invokes for the establishment of his theory merely vague conversations, confused reports which he has collected, and the testimony of public rumour. “A surgeon,” he tells us, “named Nélaton, who was in the habit of going every morning to the Café Procope, related there several times, that when first assistant to a surgeon near the Porte Saint-Antoine, he was sent for one day to bleed a person, and that he was taken to the Bastille, where the governor introduced him into the chamber of a prisoner, who had his head covered with a long napkin, tied behind the neck; that this prisoner complained of bad headaches; that his dressing-gown was yellow and black, with large gold flowers; and that from his accent he recognized him to be English.” “Father Tournemine,” adds Saint-Foix,[159]“has often repeated to me that, having gone to pay a visit to the Duchess of Portsmouth with Father Sanders, formerly King James’s confessor, she had said to them, in a succession of conversations, that she should always reproach that Prince’s memory with the execution of the Duke of Monmouth, after Charles II., in the hour of death, and ready to communicate, had made himpromise, in the presence of the host, which Huldeston, a Catholic priest, had secretly brought in, that, whatever rebellion the Duke of Monmouth might attempt, he would never have him punished with death. ‘Nor did he do so,’ replied Father Sanders, with animation.” In order to explain how Monmouth could have been carried off alive, and how the people were deceived by this sham execution, Saint-Foix furnishes a proof not a whit less uncertain than the preceding. “It was reported about London,” he says, “that an officer of his army, who closely resembled him, being made prisoner, and certain of being condemned to death, had received the proposal to personate him with as much joy as if he had been accorded life, and that, on this being reported abroad, a great lady, having gained over those who could open his coffin, and having looked at his right arm, exclaimed, ‘Ah! this is not Monmouth!’”[160]

Slight as was the basis of this theory, it must be admitted that Father Griffet combated it with very inconclusive arguments, and that Saint-Foix had no great difficulty in refuting him in his turn. To the objection founded upon the uselessness of always leaving in mystery the name of the prisoner who died in 1703, when both James II. and William of Orange had also ceased to live, Saint-Foix replied, very judiciously, that Louis XIV. might have consented to guard Monmouth at Pignerol, both in order to oblige James II., his ally, and to have in his power a Stuart, whom he might one day be able to oppose to the ambition of William of Orange, if James II. continued to remain childless; but that the unexpectedbirth of a Prince of Wales[161]having rendered this piece of foresight useless, it was natural that Louis XIV. would not wish it known that he had constituted himself the gaoler of an English prince. “It was very likely indeed,” added Saint-Foix,[162]“that the partisans of William of Orange having published that this Prince of Wales was a supposititious child, would not have failed to say that since means had been found to represent on the scaffold and behead one man in place of another, it was much easier to feign a pregnancy and a confinement.” Now Louis XIV., who had continued to support the exiled Stuarts with sufficient obstinacy to imprudently recognize this Prince of Wales under the title of James III.,[163]was bound to prevent a revelation of a nature to confirm the injurious doubts which had arisen at the period of this Prince’s birth.[164]

The necessity for the mystery being thus justified by the pride and self-interest of Louis XIV., Saint-Foix refuted Father Griffet not less cleverly on the point of the substitution of an unknown individual for Monmouth about to die on the scaffold. Reproached with its improbability, he answered that this generosity was very easy to comprehend—thatsuch an act of devotion had scarcely any merit in an officer of Monmouth’s army, condemned, like the latter, to death, and who was sacrificing to his old general, not his life, but simply his name. Finally, a comparative examination of several circumstances connected with the execution, ingeniously touched upon and grouped together, such as the choice of the bishops attending the condemned, the few words that he uttered, the look of reproach which he gave the executioner, who did not kill him at the first blow of the axe,[165]finished by convincing Saint-Foix.

Moreover, Saint-Foix’s error was also that of a portion of the English nation, who, through idolizing Monmouth, came to disbelieve in the fact of his death, just as Saint-Foix did through attachment to his theory. The popular affection survived even the generation who had espoused his cause;[166]and the hero, adorned with all the seductive qualities that had made him the idol of the people, and clothed by time with qualities which he the least[167]possessed,speedily became a legendary character. In Dorsetshire and the neighbouring counties, many, during the remainder of their lives, cherished the hope of seeing him again; and for very many years, on the occasion of any important event, the old men used confidently to announce in whispers that the time was approaching when King Monmouth would reappear. Several ballads foretold this return:—[168]

“Though this is a dismal storyOf the fall of my design,Yet I’ll come again in glory,If I live till eighty-nine;For I’ll have a stronger army,And of ammunition store.”

Again—

“Then shall Monmouth in his gloriesUnto his English friends appear,And will stifle all such storiesAs are vended everywhere.They’ll see I was not so degraded,To be taken gathering pease,Or in a cock of hay up braided.What strange stories now are these!”

In many poor families trifling objects which had belonged to him have been preserved as precious relics even to our own days, and two impostors having on different occasions travelled about the country under the name of Monmouth,found everywhere among the lower orders the most cordial reception, as well as encouragement, assistance, and evidence of the most touching and constant affection.

How much more would this adoration, of which Monmouth had rendered himself unworthy by his flight, have nevertheless embellished his memory, and, without absolving him, have made of him a legendary hero; how much more striking still would it have appeared, if, as Saint-Foix believed, he of whom the poets sang in their ballads, of whom the peasants talked by their firesides in the evening, and whose speedy return the people were awaiting, had been, at that very instant, confined in a prison in the remotest parts of the Alps, his face hidden from the gaze of man, unknown to all save a gaoler as rigorous as he was incorruptible? When the stage took possession of the subject of the Man with the Iron Mask, it preferred to adopt the version which makes him a brother of Louis XIV., as being the most interesting one. The supposition that Monmouth was the Man with the Iron Mask would have been much more dramatic, because, while in some points touching upon reality, it would, on the one hand, have allowed of representing a whole nation plunged in grief and filled with expectation, and on the other, the conquered of Sedgemoor following Saint-Mars from prison to prison, and after having almost attained a throne, being obscurely interred in the evening by two turnkeys of the Bastille!

But however thrilling this accumulation of misfortune would have been, history cannot admit its truth. Whatever Saint-Foix may have thought—whatever the English common people may have believed—Monmouth died on the scaffold, July 15, 1685. Authentic despatches, signed byLouis XIV.’s ambassador,[169]furnish proof of it; and this monarch, far from having been an accomplice, as has been said, of an abduction of the Duke, and far from having consented to act as his keeper, received day by day exact news of the early progress of his revolt, and of his defeat, capture, and death. In these despatches, penned by an impartial and perfectly independent witness, and which appeared destined never to be divulged, there is nothing that allows us to suppose that a pardon was granted, but we find in them instead irrefragable proof of James II.’s inflexible severity. Almost to his last moment Monmouth showed himself but little worthy of the regret which he was to leave behind him. He saw his wife, but without emotion, and thought only of again beseeching his life from the Earl of Clarendon, who accompanied her. On the evening of Monday, July 14, he learned that he would be led to death the next morning. At once turning pale, he remained for a long time silent, and the first word that he could utter was a demand for a respite. He repeated this in several letters addressed to James II., as well as to the most considerable persons of the court, and desired to see the King once more, a request which was refused him.[170]When he had lost all hope he became shamefully depressed: to agitation, and to the efforts exerted up to that moment to save his life, succeeded a gloomy silence; to cowardly fears, the dejection of despair. The next day his children were brought to him; he blessed them, and bade them adieu, aswell as his wife, from whom he parted without sorrow.[171]For many years his affection had been given to Lady Wentworth, whom he said was his wife before God, whilst he had espoused Lady Monmouth when too young for the marriage to be according to the spirit of God, although valid before the law. During the hours which preceded his death, Lady Wentworth was the constant object of his preoccupations, of his regrets, and of his most lively solicitude. Sometimes he maintained that his long relations with her had always been innocent, sometimes he gave out that he had always considered her as his legitimate wife. Without doubt it was the recollection of this noble and distinguished person, who loved him tenderly, and who a few months afterwards was to follow him to the tomb, that caused Monmouth to regain his feeling of dignity, till then disregarded. He all at once became more firm; and at ten in the morning entered the carriage of the Lieutenant of the Tower with a courage worthy of his race and of the woman who had inspired it in him.

The open space where the scaffold was erected, all the streets leading to it, and the roofs of the neighbouring houses were covered with a multitude, who showed its disapprobation by a silence broken only by sighs and sobs. Every eye was fixed on Monmouth, who, having smilingly saluted the soldiers of the guard, was mounting with a firm foot the steps of the scaffold. Every one awaits with anxiety his last words. He pronounces them in a loud and distinct voice, and with the energy of fanaticism. He finishes by saying, “That he has satisfied his conscience, and that he dies in peace with God.” The Sheriff havingpressed him to declare before the people whether he died in the faith of the English Church, he answered “Yes,” without hesitation; and on the bishops who accompanied him observing that, according to the principles of that church, he ought to obey his lawful king, he replied, “There is no question of that now; I have nothing to say about it.” Then he added, “that he had God’s pardon, and that he had nothing to reproach himself with in reference to Lady Wentworth, for whom he entertained as much esteem as affection.” The Sheriff having represented to him the scandal which he had caused in Holland by living publicly with this woman, and having asked him if he had married her, “I am sorry for this scandal,” replied Monmouth, “but this is not the time to answer your question.” The bishops afterwards conversed with him about the consequences of his revolt, of the blood which he had caused to be shed, and of so many companions led on by him to their ruin. Affected by this language, Monmouth said in a low voice that he agreed with them and that he regretted it. Next the bishops present offered up fervent prayers, which the Prince listened to with attention, and to each of which he answered, “Amen!” Then, addressing the executioner, he gave him six guineas, earnestly begging him to do his work quickly, and not to serve him like Lord Russell, whom he had struck three or four times. After having assured himself that the axe was sufficiently sharp, he refused to have his eyes bandaged, and placed his head upon the block. The bishops continue their prayers. The tears of the crowd flow fast. The executioner, probably troubled by the fears which Monmouth had expressed, strikes the first blow unskilfully. The victim lifts up his head; then, withoututtering a word, replaces it on the block. Three more blows are struck by the unsure hand of this man, whom the yells and imprecations of the crowd cause to tremble. At length, at the fifth blow, the head is separated from the body, and the spectators rush upon the scaffold, some, in a state of fury, wishing to punish the awkward executioner, others, with pious haste, desirous of dipping their handkerchiefs in the blood of one whom they considered a martyr.[172]

FOOTNOTES:[157]Amours de Charles II. et de Jacques II., Rois d’Angleterre.First part, pp. 74, 75.[158]Réponse de M. de Saint-Foix au R.P. Griffet, Paris. Ventes, Libraire à la Montagne Sainte-Geneviève, 1770, p. 94.[159]Ibid., p. 95et seq.[160]Réponse de M. de Saint-Foix au R. P. Griffet, p. 96.[161]Born, June 21, 1688, of James II. and Marie d’Este; recognized as King by Louis XIV., November, 16 1701, on the death of James II.[162]Réponse de Saint-Foix au P. Griffet, p. 118et seq.[163]On the death of James II. This ill-timed boldness was one of Louis XIV.’s gravest errors, and stirred up the English nation against him. See our workL’Europe et les Bourbons sous Louis XIV., chap. viii. p. 190.[164]See Chap. iv. (p. 51ante) of the present work, in which this accusation of criminal fraud brought by William of Orange against his father-in-law, James II., has already been considered.[165]According to Saint-Foix, the bishops chosen were not acquainted with Monmouth’s appearance, and thepretendedofficer only uttered a few words, while the look given by the victim after the third blow of the axe was intended as a reproach to those who had promised that he should die without pain. But these observations are more ingenious than well-founded. Monmouth was accompanied to the scaffold by the bishops who had visited him in prison, and we shall shortly see that he said a good deal, that the execution took place at ten o’clock in the morning, and that far from complaining even by a look of the executioner’s unskilfulness, Monmouth bore his horrible punishment with great resignation.[166]Observator, August 1, 1685;Gazette de France, November 2, 1686; Letter of Humphrey Wanley, August 25, 1698, in the Aubrey collection, given by Macaulay in hisHistory of England.[167]“If the Duke of Monmouth had been able to have concealed himself or to have escaped, his last action had given him such a good reputation amongst the English that he would have been able to have drawn many persons towards him every time that he might have shown himself to the people of England,” wrote the French ambassador to Louis XIV., July 19, 1685:—Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, section England, 155.[168]They are to be found in the Pepsyan Collection, and have been given by Macaulay in hisHistory of England.[169]Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, section England, 155; Despatches, June 23 and 28, and July 12, 19, 23, 25 and 26, 1685.[170]Despatch from the French Ambassador, July 26, 1685: “He asked a second time to speak to him, but it was not allowed.”[171]Burnet, i. 645; Macaulay.[172]Official despatches from the French Ambassador in England, July 15-25 and July 16-26, 1685.

[157]Amours de Charles II. et de Jacques II., Rois d’Angleterre.First part, pp. 74, 75.

[158]Réponse de M. de Saint-Foix au R.P. Griffet, Paris. Ventes, Libraire à la Montagne Sainte-Geneviève, 1770, p. 94.

[159]Ibid., p. 95et seq.

[160]Réponse de M. de Saint-Foix au R. P. Griffet, p. 96.

[161]Born, June 21, 1688, of James II. and Marie d’Este; recognized as King by Louis XIV., November, 16 1701, on the death of James II.

[162]Réponse de Saint-Foix au P. Griffet, p. 118et seq.

[163]On the death of James II. This ill-timed boldness was one of Louis XIV.’s gravest errors, and stirred up the English nation against him. See our workL’Europe et les Bourbons sous Louis XIV., chap. viii. p. 190.

[164]See Chap. iv. (p. 51ante) of the present work, in which this accusation of criminal fraud brought by William of Orange against his father-in-law, James II., has already been considered.

[165]According to Saint-Foix, the bishops chosen were not acquainted with Monmouth’s appearance, and thepretendedofficer only uttered a few words, while the look given by the victim after the third blow of the axe was intended as a reproach to those who had promised that he should die without pain. But these observations are more ingenious than well-founded. Monmouth was accompanied to the scaffold by the bishops who had visited him in prison, and we shall shortly see that he said a good deal, that the execution took place at ten o’clock in the morning, and that far from complaining even by a look of the executioner’s unskilfulness, Monmouth bore his horrible punishment with great resignation.

[166]Observator, August 1, 1685;Gazette de France, November 2, 1686; Letter of Humphrey Wanley, August 25, 1698, in the Aubrey collection, given by Macaulay in hisHistory of England.

[167]“If the Duke of Monmouth had been able to have concealed himself or to have escaped, his last action had given him such a good reputation amongst the English that he would have been able to have drawn many persons towards him every time that he might have shown himself to the people of England,” wrote the French ambassador to Louis XIV., July 19, 1685:—Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, section England, 155.

[168]They are to be found in the Pepsyan Collection, and have been given by Macaulay in hisHistory of England.

[169]Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, section England, 155; Despatches, June 23 and 28, and July 12, 19, 23, 25 and 26, 1685.

[170]Despatch from the French Ambassador, July 26, 1685: “He asked a second time to speak to him, but it was not allowed.”

[171]Burnet, i. 645; Macaulay.

[172]Official despatches from the French Ambassador in England, July 15-25 and July 16-26, 1685.

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