A Case of Adultery Unprosecuted

The Capel Family

Sometime before 1681 Abigail Remington was wed to John Richmond of Kingstown, Rhode Island. They had four daughters, John paid his taxes in 1687, but then something went very wrong in the Remington family. On March 20, 1688 Abigail, widow of John Remington, late of Rochester, Rhode Island, presented an inventory of her dead husband’s estate to the court and requested administration.

John Remington’s belongings were valued at a mere 46 pounds, 17 shillings and 6 ½ pence, enough to buy a few cows or a scrap of land. Widowed at the age of 36, with four young daughters to feed, Abigail would have faced hard times if a neighbor hadn’t taken her under his wing.

Henry Gardner was aged about 46 when he appraised John Remington’s estate in 1688. A few years earlier he was Kingstown’s constable, and as heir to one of Rhode Island’s largest land owners, John Porter, Henry was set up for life. However, there was a complication – after nearly two decades of marriage, Henry’s wife Joan was still childless, and Henry Gardner was heirless. Joan was healthy (she survived until about 1715), so if Henry simply waited for her to die, it might be too late for him to sire an heir.

Probably Henry could have had his childless marriage to Joan annulled. After all, his mother, Herodias Long, had obtained separations from two husbands in years past. Her marriage to John Hicks was ended by his spousal abuse. The other separation occurred twenty years later, when Herod admitted that she had never married George Gardner. It’s hard to say whether Herod was feeling guilty, or if she had her eyes on a larger prize. A couple of years later she and John Porter were called to court for cohabitation ‘in way of incontinency,’ but that’s another story.

Henry Gardner made no attempt at annulment or divorce. Instead, he found another way to sire heirs. In 1691 Abigail Remington bore an infant named Henry Gardner. Their second son, Ephraim Gardner, was born in 1693.

Demi Moore as Hester Prynne on the pillory

On March 27, 1694, Henry Gardner was "Bound over to this court [of trials] for being charged by Abigail Remington for getting on her body two bastard children." I find it surprising that Rhode Island waited until two 'fatherless' children had been born to take action agains Henry and Abigail. 

The Puritan colonies certainly would have called a pregnant widow to court as soon as her baby began to show, demanding that she reveal the name of the baby's father.  Just think of Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter, displayed on the pillory with her baby, Pearl. The Puritans would have proceeded against the father as well, and unless the woman and man were high-born, both faced the stocks, a stiff fine, whippings, and/or jail.

Rhode Island was more lenient, but Abigail should have been fined, then stripped to the waist and displayed in public for 15 minutes for having borne a child out of wedlock. Her second child by Henry Gardner should have resulted in a whipping or 10 pound fine. However, Abigail, as the mistress of an influential and affluent man, escaped the harshest penalty called for by the colony’s adultery and fornication law. 

For her offense, Abigail Remington “being bound to appear at court to answer for the act of fornication committed with Henry Gardner, and being taken sick could not appear." Henry acted as Abigail's attorney, and paid her fine in court, "being 26 shillings and 8 pence and officers fees.”

In nearly all cases, men were more gently handled than women. By law, Henry Gardner did not face the lash or public humiliation, but he would have been fined or jailed if he refused to support the children. 

However, Henry stood by his informal family. As the reputed father of her two children, Henry "is sentenced by this court to keep ye town of Kingstown Indemnified from any charge that may arise from ye maintenance of ye said children." Having agreed to do so, Henry’s crime of adultery was ignored. So were two more illegitimate children born to Henry and Abigail in 1697 and 1701 – all while Joan Gardner was still alive.

Why were the offenses of Abigail Remington and Henry Gardner largely overlooked? I think the main reason is that most Rhode Islanders were cast out from Puritan colonies for their unorthodox beliefs. As a result, they were opposed to sticking their noses in other people’s business. As long the illegitimate children were supported, and the unwed couple lived quietly, so what if they weren’t wed? Henry Gardner now had heirs, and Abigail, along with her four fatherless Remington daughters, lived a secure life.

As for Henry and Abigail, it seems that they married after Joan's death ca. 1715. Abigail Gardner's name is entered on deeds when she gave her consent to Henry's sale of land, and he specifically titled his wife, Abigail Gardner, in his 1744 will.

 

Jo Ann Butler is the author of Rebel Puritan and The Reputed Wife, and is currently at work on The Golden Shore, the climax of her series about Herodias (Long) Hicks Gardner Porter, her unruly family, and the equally unruly colony of Rhode Island.

The Eventful Life of Sir Kenelm Digby

Sir Kenelm Digby had the kind of life that makes for an interesting story - an English courtier and privateer, he travelled throughout Europe, was multi-lingual, interested in alchemy and natural philosophy, and was a naval administrator. I really admire him for his great curiosity about the world around him, much like other great men of his time. 

Born in 1603 to Mary and Everard Digby - the latter one of the Gunpowder Plotters who was executed by hanging, drawing, and quartering - Kenelm Digby was as Catholic as his family; something that would eventually bring him some trouble! 

Through the ages he has become most well-known (when he is remembered at all) for The Closet of the Eminently Learned Sir Kenelme Digby, which every researcher of the 17th-century knows and loves. This book, much like The English Hus-Wife by Gervase Markham is chock-full of cookery recipes that would have been helpful back then. Who am I kidding? I make food for my family even now with some of his recipes!

For example, here is his recipe for making a plain, English potage:

"Make it of Beef, Mutton and Veal; at last adding a Capon, or Pigeons. Put in at first a quartered Onion or two, some Oat-meal, or French barley, some bottome of a Venison-pasty-crust, twenty whole grains of Pepper: four or five Cloves at last, and a little bundle of sweet-herbs, store of Marigold-flowers. You may put in Parsley or other herbs."

But before he was into domestic preparations, he had a life of adventure - the stuff of Hollywood films. In the 1620s, the young, dashing, handsome Digby went to sea as a privateer, but things weren't always great. According to The Early Stuarts by Godfrey Davies:

"The Earl of Warwick received a commission to attack any Spanish dominions in Europe, Africa, or America, but achieved little, and Sir Kenelm Digby's semi-piratical expedition to the Mediterranean was equally futile."

It seems that Digby's advancement in government was blocked by the Duke of Buckingham. This is pretty likely, as Buckingham had a reputation to support such behaviour.

The Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University

But not everything was about work. In the late 1620s, Kenelm met the woman who would become his wife. Venetia Stanley was - from every description written and every painting of her - a gorgeous creature. She was very much sought-after and Kenelm was no exception.

Unfortunately, Venetia was seen as a sort of good-time girl, and had openly bestowed her favours on the Earl of Dorset and borne him children. This circumstance was a source of great vexation to Kenelm's mother, who was adamantly opposed the match because of Venetia's known wantonness.

Venetia Lady Digby as Prudence: by Anthony Van Dyck

Also, Venetia was a couple of years older than Kenelm, but that was no impediment for the ardent young man. He was quickly besotted by her, and it appears she quite liked him in return, though there were always many suitors fluttering around her.

But amor vincit omnia, as they say, "love conquers all things" and when Kenelm returned from abroad, he married his Venetia, despite his mother's continued protestations. When people gave him a hard time about her bad reputation, he is said to have responded with: 

"a wise man, and lusty, could make an honest woman out of a brothel house."

Venetia was believed to have fully embraced her role as respectable wife and was very different in her behaviour than when she was a younger woman. She and Kenelm had three sons - Kenelm, George and John.

Sadly, their marital felicity was of short duration. Venetia died suddenly aged thirty-two, and the cause has been a source of mystery ever since. According to John Aubrey's Brief Lives:

"She died in her bed suddenly. Some suspected that she was poisoned. When her head was opened there was found to be little brain, which her husband imputed to her drinking of viper wine; but spiteful women would say it was a viper-husband who was jealous of her, that she would steal a leap."

As mentioned earlier, Kenelm Digby had knowledge of chemistry and probably poisons, too. That being said, however, I think his involvement in her death highly improbable, especially as he had fought hard to win her in the first place, and he displayed overwhelming grief at her death. Some modern historians speculate that drinking viper wine was a bit of a craze, done in order to maintain beauty. Since Venetia was a known beauty and considered rather old already, I don't think it impossible that she tried this potion in order to maintain her famous looks. Here below is the painting of Venetia on her deathbed, as painted by the popular Flemish Baroque artist, Anthony van Dyck.

Image: The Trustees of Dulwich Picture Gallery

Haunted by the death of so dear a wife, Sir Kenelm retreated from the public sphere and Aubrey states he lived like a hermit:

"After her death, to avoid envy and scandal, he retired to Gresham College at London, where he diverted himself with his chemistry, and the professors' good conversation. He wore there a long mourning cloak, a high crowned hat, his beard unshorn, looked like a hermit, as signs of sorrow for his beloved wife, to whose memory he erected a sumptuous monument, now quite destroyed by the great conflagration (The Great Fire)."

As Aubrey stated above, Kenelm 'diverted himself with his chemistry' and by the 1650s, others commented upon this. John Evelyn mentions Digby's scientific pursuits in his Diary entry for 7th of November, 1651:

"I visited Sir Kenholm Digby with whom I had much discourse of chymical matters, I shew'd him a particular way of extracting oyle of (symbol) & he gave me a certaine powder with which he affirm'd he had fixed (symbol) before the late King, which he advised me to try and digest a little better, & gave me a Water, which he said was onely raine water of the Autumnal equinox exceedingly rectified, very volatile, it had a tast of a strong vitriolique, and smelt like aqua fortis, he intended it for a disolvant of (symbol). But the truth is, Sir Kenhelme, was an arrant Mountebank."

Evelyn mentions him again on the 20th of November, 1651:

"I went to see Monsieur Feburs course of Chymistrie, where I found Sir K. Digby, and divers Curious Persons of Learning & quality."

Digby never remarried following Venetia's death and had lived through the reigns of James I, Charles I, the English Civil Wars, the Interregnum, and witnessed the Restoration. He had been one of the founding members of the Royal Society and was an important part of the times.

Sir Kenelm Digby died on his birthday 11th June 1665 at the ripe old age of 62 (a month shy of 63). I know, 62 isn't old at all now - it's almost middle-aged! But I remember the words of Lewis Melville, writing in his book "The Windsor Beauties" when he wrote:

"...was thirty five, which in those days was regarded as quite elderly."

If thirty-five was considered elderly, how much more so was sixty-two?!

At any rate, the epitaph upon his tomb reads:

    Under this tomb the matchless Digby lies,Digby the great, the valiant, and the wise:This age's wonder for his noble parts,Skilled in nix tongues, and learned in all the arts:Born on the day he died, the eleventh of June,On which he bravely fought at Scanderoon;'Tis rare that one and the same day should be His day of birth, of death and victory.

Andrea Zuvich is a 17th-century historian and author of two nonfiction history books on the Stuarts: The Stuarts in 100 Facts (2015), and A Year in the Life of Stuart Britain (2016), as well as the biographical fiction novella His Last Mistress: The Duke of Monmouth & Lady Henrietta Wentworth and also the historical horror The Stuart Vampire. She is the creator of The Seventeenth Century Lady. Follow her on Twitter and Facebook for daily 17th-century factoids, Baroque music and art.

Innocent witches

            March is Women's History Month. Aren't you glad you aren't the one making history? Making history doesn't seem to have gone well for some of our forebears!

Witchcraft accusations in the 17th century were often motivated by economics than religious beliefs or superstition. When a woman was left with a desirable farm or business after the passing of her husband, witchcraft charges from envious neighbors or business competitors sometimes followed. The punitive fines and room and board prison costs were a real moneymaker for the colonial governments, and other costs could be satisfied by selling off farm animals, household goods, or the property, or partially relieved by the accused prisoners working at forced labor.

1647 book by Matthew Hopkins, the
self-titled Witchfinder General.

Today, you’ll meet two women who were caught in the witchcraft hysteria that was never far from the thoughts of English subjects, from the publication of King James’s book Daemonologie in 1597, through the 300 or more women who were tried, tortured, and executed by the Witchfinder General of eastern England in the 1640s, to the Salem, Massachusetts witch trials of the 1690s.

Mary Lee

The superstition of witchcraft manifested itself in both England and America in the 1640s and 1650s.

In 1654, the ship Charity left England for Virginia. The First Anglo-Dutch War had concluded with a treaty early in the year, but piracy and privateering (piracy licensed by government) continued on the American coasts and the Caribbean. Part of the cargo on that voyage was a shipment of carbines (short-barrel muskets that didn’t shoot much further than 100 yards), according to the state papers of John Thurloe, the English secretary of state and the spymaster.

The Charity’s voyage that should have taken eight to ten weeks was stormy, and the ship was forced to fight high seas and adverse winds for longer than expected. Two or three weeks before the vessel entered Chesapeake Bay, the sailors whispered that a witch was on board, and it was she who was attracting the wrath of God. Their gaze rested upon a passenger, Mrs. Mary Lee, a petite, aged widow traveling without escort. (“Aged” could mean anyone older than 40.)

England, after civil wars, political upheaval, the Anglo-Dutch conflict, and the resulting economic depressions, was now in Mary Lee’s rear-view mirror, and she planned to start a new life in Virginia. If she had children, they may have died of epidemic disease or war. But in 1654, she was alone in the world.

Searching a woman for witch's marks.

 On this late winter or spring voyage, the sailors demanded that John Bosworth, the Charity’s master, should test Mrs. Lee for witchcraft. The captain at first refused to consent to an interrogation, saying he would put her off the ship at Bermuda, but crosswinds prevented that detour, the ship grew more leaky by the day, and the sailors continued to clamor.

After consulting with passengers Henry Corbin, a 25-year-old emigrant, and Robert Chipson, a merchant, Bosworth yielded to the crew’s demand. (Why did the master of the ship consult with passengers?) The sailors affirmed that Mrs. Lee’s deportment suggested she was a witch. Two seamen, without permission, stripped the elderly woman’s body of all the layers of clothing and modesty that the 17^th century afforded, and searched for moles, skin tags—anything that might be a nipple for nursing an imp—and declared they had found witch marks. 

During the cold, stormy night, she was left fastened to the capstan, probably naked, and in the morning light it was reported that the marks "for the most part were shrunk into the body." Henry Corbin, a young man from Warwickshire who was not a minister or magistrate, was pressed to interrogate her, and at last, the terrified woman confessed she was a witch. 

17th-century merchantman cross section.
The capstan is the post between the first and second masts.

The crew begged the captain to execute Mrs. Lee, but he retreated to his cabin in the roundhouse. They pressed him again, and he said to do what they would, and went back to his cabin. The crew then hanged her, and “when life was extinct,” said the record, they tossed her body in the sea. Was Mrs. Lee’s death from strangling? She was petite, and probably not heavy enough to fall in the noose and break her neck. She had no friends to pull on her feet to hasten her end.

One might wonder what became of Mary Lee’s possessions, building supplies, furniture, and a year’s worth of foodstuffs to get started in her Virginia plantation life. John Bosworth obviously had no control over his seamen, and feared mutiny. The Charity’s crew may have divided Mrs. Lee’s goods amongst themselves and sold them at the port, or pitched them overboard with her body.

Ann Hibbins

In 1656, Richard Bellingham, an MP in Lincolnshire before he emigrated to New England, a magistrate in Boston, as well as Massachusetts Bay Colony’s former governor and now deputy governor, was strangely silent regarding the witch trial of his sister, Mrs. Ann Hibbins.  

Ann’s husband, William Hibbins, was a merchant and magistrate, and the Bay Colony’s agent in England for two years. Boston’s First Church of Christ censured Ann in 1641 after a dispute with church members, but it seems that William Hibbins’ position and money were enough to protect her from other charges or punishment. He lost £500 (about £35,000-40,000 in today’s value) in a bad investment in 1654, and died thereafter. Apparently, Mrs. Hibbins, after losing her lifestyle of financial ease and social status, became sarcastic and bitter in her relationships.

But now, aged about 51, because of her “censorious, bitter spirit, always quarreling with her neighbors,” she was brought to the Court of Assistants on a charge of witchcraft. As it was done in England, Mrs. Hibbins’ body was searched for witches’ teats, but none were found. Nor were there any puppets or images in her belongings which might have served as “familiars” for evil spirits. The jury condemned her, but the magistrates set the conviction aside.

But the Bostonians wanted her death, and the General Court tried her for witchcraft. Even the Boston First Church ministers, John Wilson and John Norton, supported Mrs. Hibbins. Rev. Norton was heard to say that she “unhappily guessed that two of her persecutors, whom she saw talking in the street, were talking of her, which cost her her life.” Vocalizing her hunch, which turned out to be true, seemed like paranormal knowledge she’d gained from an evil spirit.

After her conviction, Mrs. Hibbins wrote a will for her three adult sons by her first marriage, who were living in England. The appraisal of her estate was about £320 (£25,000+ in today’s value), so she was not destitute.

Edward Hutchinson, one of her will’s executors, wrote that her will and her speech were quite reasonable and there was no evidence against her. There were several other influential members of the Boston church and courts who supported Hibbins. It seemed that the ministers, the magistrates, and leading men of Boston society were on her side.

Nevertheless.

Ann Hibbins was hanged not on
a tree, but on a gallows outside
the fortified gate to Boston.

The General Court records for May 14, 1656 show that:

“The magistrates not receiving the verdict of the jury in Mrs. Hibbins her case, having been on trial for witchcraft, it fell… to the General Court [a superior court, in today’s terms]. Mrs. Ann Hibbins was called forth, appeared at the bar; the indictment against her was read, to which she answered not guilty, and was willing to be tried by God and this Court. The evidences against her were read, the parties witnessing being present, her answers considered on; and the whole Court being met together, by their vote determined that Mrs. Ann Hibbins is guilty of witchcraft, according to the bill of indictment found against her by the jury of life and death.” 

Governor John Endecott delivered her sentence, that Ann Hibbins be hanged. She was executed on June 17. There aren’t any records of Deputy Governor Bellingham’s participation or whereabouts in the prosecution and execution of his sister. But he was certainly available to brutally accost the first Quaker missionaries who came to New England a year later.

What did Mary Lee and Ann Hibbins have in common?

1. They were both widows without the protection of a husband, though Hibbins should have had the assistance of her powerful brother.

2. They were accused of being witches by superstitious people. They were both interrogated, and strip-searched for witch marks. Mrs. Lee was subjected to physical agony and sleep deprivation to make her confess. Mrs. Hibbins may have escaped the worst of the physical ordeals—but we don’t know for sure.

3. The leaders of their time (Captain Bosworth of the Charity; ministers and magistrates of Boston) seemed more worried about what people thought of them, than their own integrity and stance for justice, against the false accusations and executions of innocent women.

4. They were both caught up in a culture of Puritan zeal. Mrs. Lee was leaving the wreckage of an England nearly destroyed by civil war and its aftermath. Mrs. Hibbins lived in a fanatical theocracy that was financially and politically unstable. The General Court under Governor Endecott’s rule had a regular habit of accusing and brutally punishing before they invented and passed a law for the “crime.”

For a case of an innocent witch executed for "surfing" on an English river, click HERE. 

Sources: Virginia Carolorum: the Colony Under the Rule of Charles the First, by Edward Duffield Neill (pub 1886, out of copyright), Massachusetts Archives; History of the Province of Massachusetts Bay  by Thomas Hutchinson

           

Christy K Robinson is the author of two (five-star-reviewed) historical novels and one nonfiction book centered on the mid-17^th-century Great Migration from England to New England, the books spotlighting the Quaker martyr Mary Barrett Dyer. Christy’s books may be found at her Dyer blog, http://marybarrettdyer.blogspot.com/p/blog-page.html

Seventeenth-Century Dogs

Bloodhound

 

While writing historical stories, I have researched a lot of topics, including dogs. I fully admit I'm a dog lover, but I'm also not the sort of writer who will place something into a story simply because I like it. I also aspire to be realistic in my animal portrayal. For instance, I'm a bird lover too, and it annoys me to no end to see parrots shown as nothing more than talking machines that conveniently say the right thing to help solve a plot.

The first time I included a dog in one of my stories was my American Civil War ghost story Whispers from the Grave. A dog also fit into my plot for the modern portion of the story. I have Belgian sheepdogs, and a Belgian personality ideally suited what I had in mind. That made writing the story much easier because I didn't need to research the breed. I called my literary Belgian "Saber" to fit the Civil War themed plot. As it turns out, I now have a Belgian with that name. He, of course, was named after the dog in the book.

After finishing the sequel to Whispers from the Grave, I began writing my Dreaming series, where the setting is in the 17th century. In Virginia, the tribal tidewater Natives, commonly referred to as the Powhatan, had hunting dogs that appeared like a cross between a hound and a wolf. As a group of people, they didn't bury animals, nor keep dogs as pets. But in at least one instance, a dog was found buried with an elderly woman. It was placed in a sleeping position on top of the woman's feet. The dog's skeleton showed no sign of trauma, so it's doubtful it was buried as part of a ritual. Instead, the gesture most likely speaks volumes as to how that particular dog was regarded by that individual woman.

The dreaming in my book is a cunning woman's shamanic journey, and the cunning folk had familiar spirits. Common familiar spirits of the time were hares, cats, toads, and of course, dogs. I discovered my cunning woman's familiar spirit after I had read about John Smith giving the paramount chief Powhatan a white greyhound as a gift.

Ironically, I have read on some greyhound sites that the breed didn't arrive in North America until a much later date. While John Smith wasn't always truthful in his writings, I had doubted the subject of a greyhound making the journey to Virginia would be noteworthy enough for him to embellish. To back my belief, I recently discovered the laws of the First General Assembly of Virginia in 1619. Any dog of quality was not supposed to be given to the Indians. Greyhounds were specifically mentioned in this law.

Besides greyhounds, the English commonly had mastiffs, bloodhounds, and generic looking spaniels. Mastiffs weren't the big, friendly dogs that we commonly think of today. They tended to be kept as guard dogs and were fiercely protective. Spiked collars were common--for protection of the dog from predators, like wolves and bears. They were also used in wars as fighting dogs.

Bloodhounds were tracking dogs, much like they have been throughout the centuries. Unlike today, they came in many different colors. Spaniels were hunting dogs and were bred to flush game from dense brush. During the 17th century, with the development of flintlocks, they specifically became gun dogs. There, of course, were other dog breeds during the century, but I have focused on the ones that I've found mentioned in the writings from Virginia.

Kim Murphy

www.KimMurphy.net

A Mother's Obsession

While researching the years of Charles II’s exile, I was always aware that that the widowed Queen Henrietta Maria had attempted to convert her two youngest children to Catholicism. Henriette Anne, raised in France from babyhood, was an obvious candidate, but Henry Stuart, Duke of Gloucester and Earl of Cambridge, her third son with King Charles I, proved far more difficult to persuade.  I didn’t know just how persistent she was until I read Eva Scott’s detailed  account of her intimidation which continued for over a year.

Henry Stuart, Duke of Gloucester 1640-1660

Born on 8th July 1640 at Oatlands Palace near Weybridge, and sometimes known as Henry of Oatland, he was two years old when the English Civil War forced his parents and elder siblings to escape London for Hampton Court. He and his five-year-old sister Elizabeth were left behind in St James Palace, then subsequently moved by Parliament to the White Tower in the Tower of London. As their captivity progressed, they were moved to more comfortable lodgings in Chelsea, St James Palace and Syon House.

Whilst at Syon, their father was held at Hampton Court Palace under house arrest in 1647, where he permitted visits from Henry and Elizabeth. They also spent his last evening at Windsor Castle before his execution, where Charles I exhorted his youngest son not to allow himself to be crowned king.

After their father’s execution, the children were stripped of their titles and Henry was treated as the son of a private gentleman, addressed as ‘Master Harry Stuart.'  Royalist propaganda said Cromwell joked with Henry that he would apprentice him to a cobbler or brewer. The eight-year-old prince was said to have responded that it would be better for Parliament to make some of his dead father’s estates over to him than apprentice him out like a slave. Cromwell replied: ‘Boy, you must be an apprentice, for all your father’s revenues will not make half satisfaction for the wrong he has done the kingdom.’

That Henry should be placed on the throne as a limited, constitutional monarch was also considered, as Cromwell felt Henry was young enough not to have been "corrupted" by the Catholic and absolutist views of his parents. However, the Rump Parliament opted instead for the establishment of a Republican Commonwealth.

Lady Dorothy Percy, Countess Leicester who 

was kind to Elizabeth and Henry

Henry and Elizabeth were sent to Penshurst, Kent under the care of the Robert Sydney, 2nd Earl of Leicester and his Countess, where they were apparently happy and treated well. When rumours began of a new uprising by their brother Charles in 1650, the children were moved to Carisbrooke Castle on the Isle of Wight, a far less comfortable residence. Princess Elizabeth, at fourteen, always sickly with rickets and probably in the last stages of tuberculosis, died there after only a month, leaving Henry alone in the care of Captain Anthony Mildmay, a man of little compassion.

Rumours circulated that Elizabeth had been poisoned, so in January 1653, when he was almost thirteen, Henry was granted a pass to travel to his sister Mary of Orange in Holland, together with four servants and his tutor, Robert Lovel.  Mildmay refused to let him go and confined him in his own lodgings, until Henry appealed to the Council to enforce the order, saying;

‘he refused to accommodate me with a bed or blanket, or any utensil to carry on shipboard, but doth now lock his doors upon me, denying me liberty to walk about the castle, or to enjoy that liberty which you have alwaies granted me.’

Mildmay was overruled, the pass re-issued and with £500 from Cromwell, Henry sailed from Cowes to Dunkirk in mid-February. He was received at Antwerp by Lady Anne Hyde, the wife of Charles’ Chancellor, where Thomas Howard, one of Mary of Orange’s gentlemen waited to conduct him to Holland.

Princess Mary met her brother at Delft, and became immediately devoted to this sad boy who still grieved for his sister Elizabeth. Enchanted by Henry’s handsome looks and bright intelligence, she petitioned Charles for permission to let him stay with her permanently.

 

Teylingen Castle

During the next two months, Henrietta Maria wrote pleading letters to her daughter insisting Henry be sent to her in Paris, which Charles confirmed. Mary was convinced her mother and Queen Anne of France, had 'Papist designs’ upon her brother and resisted. Secretary Nicholas shared her fears, but neither of them could ignore the King's command, so in mid-April, Mary and Henry parted 'with great passion of sorrow.'  

At The Palais Royal, Hyde wrote to Rochester:   ‘The sweete Duke of Gloucester arrived here on Wednesday last, and is in truth the fynest youth and of the most manly understanding that I have ever known.'

Known as ‘le petit cavalier,’ Henry was spoiled in Paris by the exiled court, including his cousin Prince Rupert, who arrived after an abortive period as a sailor in the Mediterranean.  Henrietta Maria demanded Henry submit to her wish he become a Catholic, but this proud boy, who had not seen his mother since he was a toddler, rebelled fiercely and expressed a wish to be allowed to return to Holland and his sister Mary.

The Dutch States-General had negotiated a new treaty with the English Parliament, a condition of which they agreed not to give protection to their enemies – i.e the Royal Stuarts. This made Henry's return to Holland doubtful, even if Charles could have arranged it. Henry had no money of his own and Charles could not support him financially.

Charles tried to reason with his mother, writing to her from Cologne, where he had been forced to go by the political situation in France. He explained that as a Catholic, Henry would never become king, or be allowed back into England. The queen’s response was that ‘England was finished’ and the only hope for Henry was marriage to a Catholic European princess. The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that the French Court increased Henrietta Maria’s pension by two thousand livres for Henry’s support.

Reports reached a horrified Charles in Cologne – that Henry was as indolent as Charles himself, and could not be induced to study or to write letters, and that he mixed with undesirable ‘French gallants,' who encouraged him to bad behaviour.

Charles sent the Marquis of Ormonde to Paris in order to assess the situation and, if necessary, rescue the Prince from his mother’s clutches. Charles had already failed to have his sister Henrietta raised as a Protestant due being unable to support her. The French royal family had already insisted Henrietta Maria dismiss all her non-Catholic attendants; an order the dowager queen relished in following to the letter and which enabled her to rid herself of some of her son’s friends.

Charles wrote to Henry from Cologne on 10th November 1654

'Deare Brother, I have received yours without a date, in which you mention that Mr. Montague*** has endeavoured to pervert you in your religion. I do not doubt but you remember very well the commands I left with you concerning that point, and am confident you will observe them. Yett the letters that come from Paris say it is the Queen's purpose to do all she can to change your religion, which, if you herken to her, or to any one else in that matter, you must never thinke to see Englande or me againe, ……….

‘I have commanded this bearer, my Lord of Ormonde, to speake more at large to you upon this subject, therefore give him credit in all that he shall say to you as if it were from myself. And if you doe not consider what I say to you, remember the last words of your deade father, which were to be constant in your religion, and never to be shaken in it ; which, if you do not observe this, shall be the last time you will ever heare from your most affectionat brother, CHARLES R.'

When Ormonde arrived ‘late and weary’ at the Palais Royal, he was met by James Duke of York, summoned by a distraught Henry, who told him he had only been allowed to see his brother in the Queen's presence. Robert Lovel had been summarily dismissed and Henry packed off to the Abbey at Pontoise where Walter Montagu planned to have him turned over to the Jesuit College at Clermont for instruction and conversion.

Henrietta informed Ormonde that Lovel had left of his own volition – a blatant lie, and that she acted by the dictates of conscience. That she had not promised the King not to convert Henry, only that she would use no violence to do so.

Ormonde replied gravely that her treatment of Henry looked very like violence.

The next day, Ormonde visited Henry at Pontoise, where he found him upset and frightened but, resolute in his devotion to the Protestant religion. Ormonde started negotiations to have Henry removed from Paris altogether, despite the French court declaring they would not give the boy permission to leave.  Ormonde brought Henry back to the Palais Royale, where Cardinal Mazarin and Anne of Austria both urged Henry to obey his mother, rather than his dead father, claiming him kindly as ‘a child of France.’ A great deal of pressure to put onto a young boy, who, to his credit,  held out against them, refused to return to Pontoise and reported the conversation to Ormonde in writing:

‘My Lord, — I pray let the King know that the Queen of  France spoke to me last night about going to the Jesuits’ College, and obeying the Queen my mother in this, and that I ought to obey her. . . . Pray let him know that Mr. Lovel is very much troubled that (sic) so false a report as that of his complying with the Queen in making me a Papist'

Queen Henrietta Maria

Lord Jermyn warned Ormonde that the French Court would oppose Henry’s removal, but the Marquise was determined and a few days later obtained the queen’s permission for Henry to be taken to Cologne.

Henrietta Maria was nothing if not persistent, and before Henry’s departure, harangued him for over an hour in an effort to convince him to enter the Jesuits' College. When Henry stood firm, Henrietta fell into a rage, shouted at him to get out of her sight, he was no longer her son and that she never wanted to see him again.

Henry fled to James for sympathy, and on the following day, Henry tried to intercept the Queen on her way to Mass asking for her final blessing. She swept by her thirteen-year-old son without a look.

 ‘Where are you going, sir?' Montagu called after him when he stormed off.

 ‘To church!' Henry replied over his shoulder. He and James went straight to house of Sir Richard Browne where they attended Holy Communion according to Anglican rites.

After the service, Henry returned to the Palais Royal, hoping to see his little sister Henriette before the Queen's return from vespers. However, the nine-year-old Henriette was so torn between fear of her mother and love for her brother, she broke into passionate wailing.

So as not to distress Henriette further, Henry retreated to his own room to find it dismantled, the sheets removed from the bed, and his two horses turned out of the stables by the Queen's Comptroller.  Two English court members offered him shelter but Henry, not wishing to bring his mother’s wrath down on them refused.

Anne of Austria and her son, Philippe Duc d’Anjou showed no signs of giving up either. They summoned Henry and promised not to harass him any more if he would just agree to enter the Jesuit College, an interview that turned into a heated argument.

Before leaving Paris, Henry wrote humbly to his mother, begging her forgiveness and asked for her blessing before his departure - she refused to receive the letter.

Reuben's portrait of Queen Anne of Austria

Not everyone shunned Henry. His brother James was unfailingly supportive, as were his exiled compatriots who flocked to congratulate him. Even among the French he was not without sympathisers. James's friend and the Prince of Condé’s adversary, Marshal Turenne, advised him to keep ‘a perfect union’ with his two brothers, and ‘detest all cabals' against the King's counsels. These included the lovely Duchesse de Chatillon, a love interest of Charles’ and, Cesar de Vendome, who openly condemned the whole affair, exclaiming ‘with admiration at the madness of it.'

Ormonde, meanwhile, had been forced to sell his ‘George’ ** to raise money for the journey to Cologne, and had to borrow an additional 500 livres from a merchant.

An overjoyed Henry finally escaped Paris in mid-December, but at Antwerp, he fell seriously ill with a high fever; thus much of Ormond’s borrowed money had to be spent on doctors. Charles despatched his own physician, Dr Fraser, but it was the end of January before Henry could resume his journey.

In the interim the Princess Mary appealed to Charles for a visit from her youngest brother, this request supported by her aunt, Rupert’s mother, the Queen of Bohemia, who protested:

'I am sure our Hoghens Moghens* will take no notice of it, if they be not asked the question, as they were for the King's coming to Breda.' 

Charles was willing to agree, but was anxious for Ormonde, who would certainly have been arrested in Holland. The loyal Ormonde was prepared to take the risk, but as it turned out Henry was conducted to Mary’s country estate at Teylingen by Nicholas Armorer in January 1654.

Princess Mary of Orange

At first, the States-General ignored Henry’s presence, but within weeks, rumours spread of Royalist activity in England combined with Henry’s behaviour, including:  

‘My Henry's royal airs, particularly his habit of mounting his horse at the foot of the staircase, rather than in the courtyard.’

The States asked Princess Mary to dismiss her brother: a message she ignored.  Charles, however summoned Henry to Cologne at the precise moment the States-General were debating Henry’s seizure or banishment.

For weeks the eyes of Europe had been fixed upon the struggle for possession of Prince Henry.  Several princes, including the Elector of Cologne declared against Charles and the Pope himself was offended. This was unfortunate, because Charles had recently reopened negotiations with the Papacy through the Nuncio at Cologne. Charles made overtures of peace to both Lord Jermyn and his mother, though the latter refused to answer Charles’ letter.

Henry joined Charles in Cologne, then subsequently joined the Spanish armies fighting at Dunkirk alongside his brothers. There he met the renegade French military commander the Prince of Condé, an agnostic and a leading defender of the Huguenots, who was leading the Spanish forces. Exiled from France after the Fronde, Condé invited Henry to live at Chantilly away from his mother and even suggesting he marry his niece. Henry distinguished himself in battle, gaining a reputation as one of Europe's foremost Protestant soldiers. When peace was declared between France and Spain, Henry lived at one of Condé's estates.

                                                                                                     

Henry returned with Charles II when he was restored to the English throne in May 1660 and took up residence at Whitehall. In September he contracted smallpox, dying on September 18th after his physicians predicted a full recovery. In his delirium, Henry called for his mother, but although Henrietta Maria was on a visit to the English court with Mary of Orange at the time, but she refused to see him. Henry was just twenty years old.
Three months later, the same epidemic also struck his sister Mary of Orange, who died on Christmas Eve Aged 29, and was also buried in Westminster Abbey.

Hyde described Henry as ‘in truth the finest youth and of the most manly understanding that I have ever known’. His death was considered a tragedy by Charles and his supporters, for until Charles married and produced legitimate offspring, James, who was suspected to have converted to Catholicism during his exile, was left as the heir to the throne, which didn’t please many of the English at all.

Henry was buried in the Henry VII Chapel in Westminster Abbey on 21st September 1660.

  *A corruption of the Dutch Hoogmogenheiden, 'High Mightinesses', the title of the States-General of the United Provinces of the Netherlands.

** The Order of The Garter thus named because they were presented on St George’s Day
*** Walter Montagu, a son of the Earl of Manchester and convert to the Roman Church was now director of Henrietta Maria’s household.