CHAPTER IV

THE MARRIAGE

IT is difficult, nay impossible, now to fix the exact date of the secret, but definite, understanding between the Duke of York and Anne Hyde.

Macpherson places it in 1657. James, he says, “had fallen in love with Anne when the Chancellor and he were on ill terms,”[95] but the probabilities point to the Paris visit already described. This would give a reason for the Prince’s lingering on in the French capital at that time, for he appears then to have been treated by the Court of France with very little consideration, a state of things which he was by no means the person to endure meekly, proud and punctilious as he could show himself to be.[96]

Footnote 95:

Macpherson’s “Original Papers: Life of James II., by himself.”

Footnote 96:

Thurloe Papers.

It was, by the way, then—if at all—that his sister Mary made the secret marriage with the younger Harry Jermyn, formerly a suitor of Nan herself, though the fact of such a union is more than doubtful.[97]

Footnote 97:

“Life of Henrietta Maria.” J. A. Taylor.

However, James himself acknowledges that it was when the Princess and her train came to Paris that he was first attracted to the young maid of honour. He says that she brought “his passion to such an height as between the time he first saw her and the winter before the King’s restoration he resolved to marry none but her, and promised to do it, and though at first when the Duke asked the King his brother for his leave, he refused and diswaded him from it, yet at last he opposed it no more, and the Duke married her privately, owned it some time after, and was ever after a true friend to the Chancellor for several years.”[98]

Footnote 98:

Macpherson’s “Original Papers: Life of James II., by himself.”

We are here given a period between the summer of 1656 and the winter of 1659-1660. As we know that the Duke’s campaigning had taken him away from Paris in the autumn of 1657, the assumption is that some sort of pledge passed between the lovers before this time, and that they had then parted for some years with the knowledge of their jealously guarded secret confined to themselves alone. No one seems really to have suspected the truth till long afterwards, though there is a despatch dated the 7th or 17th of August 1656 which has been supposed to refer to this love affair, though it is hard to say on what grounds the supposition is founded. The letter is from Ross to Secretary Nicholas.

“In England there is much bustle about choosing Parliament men. Some counties have chosen Bradshaw, Ludlow, Salloway, Harrison and Rich, at which Cromwell is so incensed that he has ordered them to give bail to the majors general of their counties. My wife is going to Dover to get a conveyance to go to the Duke of York. I hear from young Musgrove that Mrs Benson is become ward to a physician who lately applied to the Princess Royal to board with her and one Bronkard who is with her and they are to go with her on her next journey and be spies on the King’s deportment.”[99]

Footnote 99:

“Calendar of Domestic State Papers,” edit. by M. A. Everett-Green.

It is said that “Benson” is cypher for the Duke of York. Query, is Mrs Benson intended for Anne Hyde? The date makes this supposition unlikely. Even had there been any inkling of the affair it could scarcely have been so soon, and such a storm of wrath was evoked by the discovery of the contract in 1660 that it is most improbable that any suspicion of it was afloat four years earlier.

Too many people were interested in so vital a question for the secret to have been quite closely kept in such a case. It would have leaked out somehow, a whisper here, a hint there, to ears only too ready to listen to so choice a morsel of scandal, from lips equally ready and eager to retail it. It is at least certain that for long after the Paris visit Anne retained the affection and confidence of the Princess of Orange, and we know that these were rudely shaken by the discovery when it was made.[100]

Footnote 100:

“Lives of Princesses of England.” M. A. Everett-Green.

How the great secret was to be a secret no more, but the property of the world at large, has now to be told.[101]

Footnote 101:

“Continuation of the Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon,” by himself, ed. 1759.

In some respects it is fairly easy to reconstruct the London of the earlier Stuarts. Here and there one can trace, by the help of main thoroughfares, the sites of buildings once famous, though now either substantially changed or altogether non-existent. The south side of the Strand in those days was lined with large and stately houses, mansions in the true sense, each with its façade facing the street; and to the rear its shady garden reaching to the river, where the water-gate with its elaborate ironwork and lofty flanking pillars gave access to a flight of steps, where a boat was commonly moored. The Thames was then the chief and favourite highway of the city. Its shining surface was for the most part alive with craft of every description, from the royal barge, gaudy with profuse gilding and silken hangings, to the small boat darting hither and thither, and holding perhaps but a single passenger. Heavy loads would be going slowly down to Greenwich or Gravesend, a boat full of cheerful citizens with violins on board rowing up to Chelsey Reach, a market woman or two with their baskets crossing over from the fields beyond the Tabard on the south side, a Templar embarking at Whitehall stairs to hurry down to Alsatia—it was all a feast of colour and life, such as, in one sense, has passed away from the scene for ever.

One of the great houses occupying such a position was that known as Worcester House.[102] It had been originally a residence of the bishops of Carlisle, and it stood on the site of the present Beaufort Buildings, between the Savoy and Durham Place. At the Reformation it became the property of the Crown, and was granted to the founder of the Bedford family, when it was known as Bedford House, till they removed to the present Southampton Street and built there another Bedford House.

Footnote 102:

Besant, “Survey of London”; Wheatley, “London, Past and Present”; Walford, “Old and New London.”

The house in the Strand then passed to Edward, second Marquess of Worcester, the loyal Cavalier who held his strong castle of Raglan so stoutly for the King, and who is, as well, remembered for his “Century of Inventions” and his numerous scientific experiments. He died in 1667, and his son Henry being created Duke of Beaufort in 1682 gave that name to the block of houses now occupying the site. During the Commonwealth, the house had been used for committees and was furnished by the Parliament for the Scottish Commissioners. At one time Cromwell himself had lived there,[103] but in May 1657 a Bill was passed to settle it on Margaret, Lady Worcester. The Somersets having regained possession of their house, Lord Worcester, twelve days after the Restoration, offered it rent free to Edward Hyde, who, however, agreed to a lease at five hundred pounds a year, looking on it merely as a temporary house, intending to build for himself; an intention to be fulfilled before much time was past.

Footnote 103:

Sir Henry Craik, “Life of Edward, Lord Clarendon.”

Here for the present, at any rate, the Chancellor, who had accompanied his master on his triumphant return, took up his abode.

The pageant of the Restoration was possessing fully the mind and temper of the people. The streets were daily thronged with eager, excited, jubilant crowds, demonstrating their noisy welcome to the long expatriated King. London was delirious for the time being with the revulsion, and those who had endured years of exile and poverty were not the least happy. Among these might be numbered the Hydes. The Chancellor might certainly be considered to deserve a season of rest and prosperity after so many strenuous years of service, and as soon as the King was at Whitehall, firmly established in the house of his fathers, Hyde had leisure to turn to his own affairs, and forthwith sent off for his daughter Anne. It has been said that the Princess Mary’s suspicions had been already aroused with regard to her brother James and her maid of honour, and that she had therefore dismissed the latter from her service, but if so it does not seem that she imparted such suspicions to any one at that time, for certainly Hyde himself was then completely ignorant of them. He was, as we have seen, a man of strong and tenacious family affections, and for his elder girl he had a deep and enduring love. “She being his eldest child he had more acquaintance with her than with any of his children.”[104] Besides, another question with regard to her was beginning to occupy his mind. Now that public affairs were settling down peaceably in England, he bethought him of finding an honourable establishment for his Nan, and it seems he had “an overture from a noble family.”

Footnote 104:

“Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon: Continuation,” by himself.

Since the quickly extinguished love affairs at The Hague in 1654-1655 nothing of the kind is recorded, and the Chancellor was fully alive to the advisability of a suitable marriage for this his elder daughter, who was now twenty-three, a mature age according to the ideas of the time. Back, therefore, to England and to the new home in London, came Anne Hyde, a stranger to her native land since her childhood, to be received by her parents with exceeding joy.

It was, no doubt, to many of the long exiled Cavaliers a summer of hope, destined, in many cases, to be unfulfilled. They looked forward eagerly to the knitting together of ravelled skeins, to the renewal of old ties, of old friendships; to the building up of home in the dear familiar places so long laid waste and desolate.

So Edward Hyde and Frances his wife looked forward fondly to welcoming their Nan, and cherished happy visions of a blithe bridal, of a new relationship, new ties; of children’s children at their knees in God’s good time.

They were keeping open house like their neighbours with lavish hospitality, and perhaps Mistress Anne, in spite of the possession of her momentous secret, and the anxiety inextricable from it, was not averse to the intercourse now opened with the choicest spirits of that English society which was re-forming itself around her.

In the wainscotted rooms of Worcester House they were made welcome. Ormonde, tried and trusted, who had watched over the boyhood and shared the exile of his king with selfless devotion; and Southampton, whose memory could go back to the awful night, when he was keeping his vigil by the body of his dead king in St James’s, and the muffled figure of Cromwell stole into the dusky room to look at the calm face of his victim; and Edward Nicholas, the Secretary, of whom it could be said that there was “none more industrious, none more loyal, none less selfish than he.”[105] These with their host could talk over the days of strife and confusion, of rebellion and anarchy, wherein they had played their parts; days past, so all trusted, never to return. Together they could speak with hushed and saddened voices of lost friends and of the master whom they had served so faithfully, yet failed to save. There, too, often came John Evelyn, a friend true and loyal through long years. “This great person,” he says, speaking of Hyde, “had ever been my friend.” He would come by water from his house at Deptford—that Sayes Court near which he was afterwards to discover the young Gibbons at work on his great carving—and so, landing at the water-gate, would pass through the garden into Worcester House. And there likewise would be Morley, now Dean of Christ Church (who had come back before the Restoration, being sent by Hyde to contradict the report of the King’s apostacy), taking up once more the threads of the close friendship of many years. Perhaps, too, Gilbert Sheldon, who had gone joyfully to meet the returning king at Canterbury—now Dean of the Chapel Royal, but soon to be Bishop of London—was there also, ready for an argument or dispute with Morley, yet both of them united in virtue of long-standing affection for the Chancellor.[106] And among them would be other and younger guests: gallants scented and curled, in lace and satin, playing the courtier to the daughters of the house, Anne and even little Frances, or laughing with their young brothers, or, one of them, singing a dainty madrigal or so to the music of a lute or virginals.

Footnote 105:

“Life of Edward, Lord Clarendon.” Sir Henry Craik.

Footnote 106:

_Dictionary of National Biography._

It was to all seeming a happy, sunny time, but suddenly into the midst of the cheerful trifling was flung an announcement which was to prove, with a vengeance, an apple of discord to all whom it could concern.

James, Duke of York, the King’s second brother, the heir presumptive to the Crown, and the Chancellor’s elder daughter, Mistress Anne Hyde, were married, and every one, whether remotely interested or no, stood aghast.

When the Duke first spoke to his brother on the subject is doubtful,[107] but according to his own memoir it seems to have been before the Restoration, possibly even at the time of the projected match with Fatima Lambert, though as we have seen he did not openly give it as a reason for his refusal.

Footnote 107:

“Original Papers containing Hist. of Gt. Britain,” arranged by John Macpherson, 1775; extracts from “James II., by himself”: “The King at first refused the Duke of York’s marriage with Mrs Hyde.”

Easy-going as Charles II. was on some points, he was naturally strongly opposed to such a marriage for his brother as one with the Chancellor’s daughter, since no possible advantage could result from it, and later, when he did give his consent, he only reluctantly withdrew his opposition.[108]

Footnote 108:

“Memoirs of the Court of Charles II.” Count Grammont, edit. Sir W. Scott, revised ed. 1846, note 42.

Nevertheless James disregarded the fraternal disapprobation, without at the time confessing the fact, for the marriage on which so much was to hang took place at Breda on 10th November 1659.

The Princess of Orange and her three brothers were there alternately with Brussels throughout that winter and the early part of the succeeding spring.

Thurloe writes in March 1659-1660: “To-morrow I am parting for Antwerp, whither the princess royal is going, being on her return from Breda. The King of Scots goes with her to Antwerp, and from thence returns specially hither, but both the dukes go through with her to Breda.”[109] It is certain that though Mary was ignorant of the marriage she suspected the existence of some understanding between her brother and the maid of honour before the end of 1659, and on this account made no difficulty of the latter’s retirement from her service.

Footnote 109:

“State Papers of John Thurloe, Esq.”

There is a consensus of evidence as to the date of the marriage. Among others, Lady Fanshawe gives it.[110] She was certainly in Holland at the time and it is possible that she was at Breda itself.

Footnote 110:

“Notes to the Memoirs of Ann, Lady Fanshawe” (_Chalmers’ Biographical Dictionary_).

Who the witnesses of this union were cannot now be ascertained, and it may be because of this fact that we are told that James could, if he chose, have had the contract annulled at the time when the storm broke.[111] It has indeed by some writers been termed a contract, only, of marriage, but we shall see later that the validity was fully established.

Footnote 111:

“Royalty Restored.” J. F. Molloy.

At any rate James now went to the King, and on his knees made a clean breast of the affair, confessing the fact of his marriage in defiance of the prohibition of the previous year, and entreating permission for a public ceremony. Charles was, we are told, “greatly troubled with his Brother’s Passion,” “which was expressed in a very wonderful manner and with many tears, protesting that if his Majesty should not give his consent, he would immediately leave the Kingdom, and must spend his life in foreign parts.”[112]

Footnote 112:

“Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon: Continuation,” by himself.

The King, as might be expected, was greatly dismayed and perplexed, as the situation offered serious complications. He does not appear to have shown then, nor later, much positive anger with his brother, but he was far-seeing enough to fear the difficulties that would probably arise from this unwelcome alliance, which might very well prove a terrible stumbling-block in his way.

James meanwhile was vehement and determined. As to his threat of self-expatriation, that was of course not to be thought of for a moment, and the King in his perturbation sent for the Chancellor.

Probably Charles’ first feelings with regard to Hyde were those of strong irritation, as it might easily transpire that the latter from motives of ambition had, if not assisted, at least countenanced the match.

However those old and tried friends, Ormonde, the new Lord Steward, and Southampton, now Lord High Treasurer, were deputed to see and confer with him first, before his interview with the King himself.

Hyde’s outburst of wrath and bitter grief on being told the news[113] satisfied all parties that there was no collusion on his part, and when Charles himself came into the room, he was softened by the father’s evident distress, and spoke gently and kindly to his old servant.

Footnote 113:

“The Chancellor knew nothing of the Duke of York’s marrying his daughter” (Macpherson Papers).

“Nobody was so surprised and confounded as the Chancellor himself, who, being of a nature free from jealousy, and very confident of an entire affection and obedience from all his children, and particularly from that daughter whom he had always loved dearly, never had in the least degree suspected any such thing, though he knew afterwards that the Duke’s affection and kindness had been much spoken of beyond the seas, but without the least suspicion in anybody that it could ever tend to marriage” (“Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon: Continuation,” by himself).

The Duke of York himself next made his appearance, but possibly the King, wishing to avoid a scene, or not thinking the moment a propitious one for his brother to attempt any justification, took the latter away with him, leaving Hyde for the present with his friends, who for their