Jeffreys was nicknamed "the Hanging Judge" for a reason. re: Alice Lisle: One of the first acts of parliament of William and Mary after the Glorious Revolution was to reverse her attainder on the grounds that the prosecution was irregular and the verdict injuriously extorted by "the menaces and violences and other illegal practices" of Judge Jeffreys.
Speaking of William and Mary,have a few quotes about their closeness to cousin Jemmy, aka Monmouth. Now, for the first one, you have to know that after a long time as Charles' favourite kid, Monmouth did rebel against him, which led to his first exile in the Netherlands. (Charles didn't stop loving him, and they reconciled shortly before Charles' death during a quick over the channel visit by Jemmy for this very purpose, which is one of the things I thought the novel had made up before reading the biography; it did, actually, happen.) Part of the reason for that first rebellion was that Jemmy had joined the Whig Lords opposing the succession of James (because Catholic and, well, James), positioning Monmouth himself as an alternate (Protestant) candidate. Hence you might say James (referred to in the text as "York" since he's still the Duke of York at this point of the story) was somewhat entitled to be, shall we say, surprised, when he hears how his oldest daughter and son-in-law responded to the latest arrival in the Netherlands:
If York was irritated by Grana's treatment of Monmouth, it was nothing compared to his rage when he heard that his son-in-law, William of Orange, had received his disgraced nephew. A stream of letters to the stadtholder was carried from St. James' Palace admonishing him for seeing one who 'had been engaged in so horrid a conspiracy for the lateration of the government and ruin of the king and our family'. The only possible explanation for Monmouth's behaviour, sneered York, was 'his vain pretension to the crown'. Receiving no reply from William, he wrote repeatedly to his daughter Mary instead, instructing her to forgo the obedience of a wife and impress upon her husband how scandalous it was that William was behaving so warmly towards one of his'mortal enemies' who was intent on taking the crown for himself. Unflustered, Wiliam gave out instructions to his officers that Monmouth should be treated by them with the same honnours as the Marquis de Grana.
Of course, one reason why William could afford this was that James wasn't King yet, Charles was, and Charles despite going through the routine of an official protest via an ambassador simultanously wrote privately to tell William and Mary Monmouth was still his favourite kid:
Charles had already established a code by which William would know if a letter represented his true feelings, or those he affected to have for political reaosns. (...) Even (envoy) Chudleigh, whose job it was to hold the official line that Charles II was unhappy with William, because: 'His Maty is not so much offended with ye Prince of Orange as people are made to believe', and that 'there is a private intelligence' between them. William and Mary were left in no doubt that Charles did not consider Monmouth a traitor and that his love was undiminished. Writing to England from Dieren in Juily, William explained his conduct, argueing that Monmouth 'is his (Charles) son, whom he had parodoned for the faults which he may have committed, and though he has removed him from his presence, I know that in the bottom of his heart he has always some friendship for him and that the King cannot be angry with him.' William and Mary's treatment of the Duke was more than a piece of political reasoning. Mary had grown up with Monmouth, and had lived alongside him from her birth to her wedding day. Both Charles II. and the Duke of York recognised that since William and Monmouth had fought together side by side in 1678, they had become 'so good friends and agree so well together'. The 'fondness' Mary and William showed for Monmouth in 1684, and the 'caresses' he received that were 'the common discourse of all sorts of people' in The Hague, were the product of personal as well as political dynamics. With Monmouth as guest the atmosphere in the Orange court started to grow noticeably brighter. Onlookers were surprised to see Mary - who never walked out - taking daily constitutionals in the mall with her cousin, while they were frankly amazed when William - who used his asthma as an excuse to avoid dancing - was to be found learning contredanses with Monmouth and Mary most evenings. When the English Ambassador in The Hague reported that Monmouth was being treated by William and Mary 'as one of the family', it was not just a calibration of the formal honours allowed to him, but also an expression of the closeness between them all.
Now remember: William would end up as William III. (and Mary as Mary II.) of England. He also is one of those monarchs whose sexuality is still debated (Liselotte heard in Versailles from visiting Brits he was gay, and he did have two male favourites, but this was after Mary's death). So what this passage conjurs irresistably up in my mind is the fannish question "threesome, anyone?", and the more cold blooded question whether William was playing the long game and hoping James and Jemmy would finish each other off. (Given that he, William, and Mary were at this point undoubtedly James' heirs - this was before James had a male (Catholic son).)
Did he have living family at the time?
A wife and two children. The children are mentioned in what he says (as in, he asks the King to spare them). The wife was Anna, and it had been a marriage between children (as in, both Anna and Jemmy were children - this was before he was Monmouth, even) that had not worked out when they'd grown up. (It had been one of the first things Charles did post restoration, for the simple reason that Anna was an heiress and it was a good way to ensure his illegitimate oldest son would have an income independent from the crown. (Though he later heaped a lot of other income and estate on Jemmy, too.) Anna - who hadn't gone into exile with him, as at this point, the marriage had been effectually over already - and the kids saw him twice during his time in the Tower. Once when he was still optimistic about being pardoned, and that meeting was a disaster, for:
Anna's anger with her husband was understandable. (....)Dismissing his words as 'digressions and imaginary expectations of life', she insisted that he confirm that she and their children had nothing to do with his uprsings or his association with the Whig opposition. This he did, and there they parted.
The second meeting, immediately before Monmouth was collected from his room in the Tower to be executed, went better. In between, the bishops had already tried to get him to admit repentance both for the rebelling and the adultery. This led to Monmouth retorting thusly:
'It was too true,' he said, 'that he had for a long time lived a very dissolute & irregular life & being guilty of frequent breaches of the conjugal vow.' When it came to his affair with Lady Henrietta Wentworth, however, he refused point-blank to offer any sort of apology or remorse. Though 'the world had much aspersed her' for their relationship, he said, she was 'a virtuous Godly lady & far from deserving the unkind censures he lys under on his accompt'. When the bishops responded that, as Henrietta was not his legal wife, she was therefore his whore and their relationship a sin, he was unyielding. Yes, Anna was technically his wife, but they had been married when they were children and were too young to understand what it meant. As a consequence he had never developed 'that perfect love & affection for (Anna) that either she deserved or he wished himself to have had towards her'. This was the reason for his 'going so frequently astray from her & running after other women'. But 'The ladie Henrietta Wentworth was the persone in this world that cured him of that wandring appetite' and in her love he had found complete fulfilment.
The bishops then refuse communion, but Monmouth sticks to his statement. Then he gets to see Anna and the kids one final time.
Anna arrived with the children and was surprised to see Monmouth calm and steady. The composed dignity of his resolve was far harder for her to take than the frenzied optimism of two days before. Their meeting was 'the mourningest scene in the world'. To all those present Monmouth stated his wife's complete innocence in respect of his actions and shortcomings. Her attempts to reconcile him with his father were acknowledged, and he gave her 'the kindest character that could be' When finally he asked her forgiveness for his failngs and expressed his hope that she would be kind to their 'poor children', she could bear it no more. Her imperious expression cracked, and tears streamed down her crumpled features. Sinking to the floor, she clung to her husband's knees and, rocking with sobs, asked for his forgiveness in return. (The footnote the author gives for this provides four different contempoary sources, including State Trials, if you're wondering.)
Anna would live well into her 80s (as opposed to Lady Henrietta, who died soon after Monmouth). As an old lady, she shows up in Caroline's biography since Caroline as Princess of Wales invited her to become part of her household, and Anna fascinated the young Hannovers with scandalous stories from Charles II's court. She'd tretrieved Monmouth's effects from the Rotterdam pawn merchants and kept them (they were found among her belongings after her death), as she did his portraits.
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Re: Replies on Stuarts and treason and Monmouth
Date: 2021-11-07 09:01 am (UTC)Speaking of William and Mary,have a few quotes about their closeness to cousin Jemmy, aka Monmouth. Now, for the first one, you have to know that after a long time as Charles' favourite kid, Monmouth did rebel against him, which led to his first exile in the Netherlands. (Charles didn't stop loving him, and they reconciled shortly before Charles' death during a quick over the channel visit by Jemmy for this very purpose, which is one of the things I thought the novel had made up before reading the biography; it did, actually, happen.) Part of the reason for that first rebellion was that Jemmy had joined the Whig Lords opposing the succession of James (because Catholic and, well, James), positioning Monmouth himself as an alternate (Protestant) candidate. Hence you might say James (referred to in the text as "York" since he's still the Duke of York at this point of the story) was somewhat entitled to be, shall we say, surprised, when he hears how his oldest daughter and son-in-law responded to the latest arrival in the Netherlands:
If York was irritated by Grana's treatment of Monmouth, it was nothing compared to his rage when he heard that his son-in-law, William of Orange, had received his disgraced nephew. A stream of letters to the stadtholder was carried from St. James' Palace admonishing him for seeing one who 'had been engaged in so horrid a conspiracy for the lateration of the government and ruin of the king and our family'. The only possible explanation for Monmouth's behaviour, sneered York, was 'his vain pretension to the crown'. Receiving no reply from William, he wrote repeatedly to his daughter Mary instead, instructing her to forgo the obedience of a wife and impress upon her husband how scandalous it was that William was behaving so warmly towards one of his'mortal enemies' who was intent on taking the crown for himself. Unflustered, Wiliam gave out instructions to his officers that Monmouth should be treated by them with the same honnours as the Marquis de Grana.
Of course, one reason why William could afford this was that James wasn't King yet, Charles was, and Charles despite going through the routine of an official protest via an ambassador simultanously wrote privately to tell William and Mary Monmouth was still his favourite kid:
Charles had already established a code by which William would know if a letter represented his true feelings, or those he affected to have for political reaosns. (...) Even (envoy) Chudleigh, whose job it was to hold the official line that Charles II was unhappy with William, because: 'His Maty is not so much offended with ye Prince of Orange as people are made to believe', and that 'there is a private intelligence' between them. William and Mary were left in no doubt that Charles did not consider Monmouth a traitor and that his love was undiminished. Writing to England from Dieren in Juily, William explained his conduct, argueing that Monmouth 'is his (Charles) son, whom he had parodoned for the faults which he may have committed, and though he has removed him from his presence, I know that in the bottom of his heart he has always some friendship for him and that the King cannot be angry with him.'
William and Mary's treatment of the Duke was more than a piece of political reasoning. Mary had grown up with Monmouth, and had lived alongside him from her birth to her wedding day. Both Charles II. and the Duke of York recognised that since William and Monmouth had fought together side by side in 1678, they had become 'so good friends and agree so well together'. The 'fondness' Mary and William showed for Monmouth in 1684, and the 'caresses' he received that were 'the common discourse of all sorts of people' in The Hague, were the product of personal as well as political dynamics. With Monmouth as guest the atmosphere in the Orange court started to grow noticeably brighter. Onlookers were surprised to see Mary - who never walked out - taking daily constitutionals in the mall with her cousin, while they were frankly amazed when William - who used his asthma as an excuse to avoid dancing - was to be found learning contredanses with Monmouth and Mary most evenings. When the English Ambassador in The Hague reported that Monmouth was being treated by William and Mary 'as one of the family', it was not just a calibration of the formal honours allowed to him, but also an expression of the closeness between them all.
Now remember: William would end up as William III. (and Mary as Mary II.) of England. He also is one of those monarchs whose sexuality is still debated (Liselotte heard in Versailles from visiting Brits he was gay, and he did have two male favourites, but this was after Mary's death). So what this passage conjurs irresistably up in my mind is the fannish question "threesome, anyone?", and the more cold blooded question whether William was playing the long game and hoping James and Jemmy would finish each other off. (Given that he, William, and Mary were at this point undoubtedly James' heirs - this was before James had a male (Catholic son).)
Did he have living family at the time?
A wife and two children. The children are mentioned in what he says (as in, he asks the King to spare them). The wife was Anna, and it had been a marriage between children (as in, both Anna and Jemmy were children - this was before he was Monmouth, even) that had not worked out when they'd grown up. (It had been one of the first things Charles did post restoration, for the simple reason that Anna was an heiress and it was a good way to ensure his illegitimate oldest son would have an income independent from the crown. (Though he later heaped a lot of other income and estate on Jemmy, too.) Anna - who hadn't gone into exile with him, as at this point, the marriage had been effectually over already - and the kids saw him twice during his time in the Tower. Once when he was still optimistic about being pardoned, and that meeting was a disaster, for:
Anna's anger with her husband was understandable. (....)Dismissing his words as 'digressions and imaginary expectations of life', she insisted that he confirm that she and their children had nothing to do with his uprsings or his association with the Whig opposition. This he did, and there they parted.
The second meeting, immediately before Monmouth was collected from his room in the Tower to be executed, went better. In between, the bishops had already tried to get him to admit repentance both for the rebelling and the adultery. This led to Monmouth retorting thusly:
'It was too true,' he said, 'that he had for a long time lived a very dissolute & irregular life & being guilty of frequent breaches of the conjugal vow.' When it came to his affair with Lady Henrietta Wentworth, however, he refused point-blank to offer any sort of apology or remorse. Though 'the world had much aspersed her' for their relationship, he said, she was 'a virtuous Godly lady & far from deserving the unkind censures he lys under on his accompt'. When the bishops responded that, as Henrietta was not his legal wife, she was therefore his whore and their relationship a sin, he was unyielding. Yes, Anna was technically his wife, but they had been married when they were children and were too young to understand what it meant. As a consequence he had never developed 'that perfect love & affection for (Anna) that either she deserved or he wished himself to have had towards her'. This was the reason for his 'going so frequently astray from her & running after other women'. But 'The ladie Henrietta Wentworth was the persone in this world that cured him of that wandring appetite' and in her love he had found complete fulfilment.
The bishops then refuse communion, but Monmouth sticks to his statement. Then he gets to see Anna and the kids one final time.
Anna arrived with the children and was surprised to see Monmouth calm and steady. The composed dignity of his resolve was far harder for her to take than the frenzied optimism of two days before. Their meeting was 'the mourningest scene in the world'. To all those present Monmouth stated his wife's complete innocence in respect of his actions and shortcomings. Her attempts to reconcile him with his father were acknowledged, and he gave her 'the kindest character that could be' When finally he asked her forgiveness for his failngs and expressed his hope that she would be kind to their 'poor children', she could bear it no more. Her imperious expression cracked, and tears streamed down her crumpled features. Sinking to the floor, she clung to her husband's knees and, rocking with sobs, asked for his forgiveness in return. (The footnote the author gives for this provides four different contempoary sources, including State Trials, if you're wondering.)
Anna would live well into her 80s (as opposed to Lady Henrietta, who died soon after Monmouth). As an old lady, she shows up in Caroline's biography since Caroline as Princess of Wales invited her to become part of her household, and Anna fascinated the young Hannovers with scandalous stories from Charles II's court. She'd tretrieved Monmouth's effects from the Rotterdam pawn merchants and kept them (they were found among her belongings after her death), as she did his portraits.