James Scott, 1st Duke of Monmouth and Buccleuch

James Scott (formerly Crofts) was the first-born child of Charles II by his mistress Lucy Walter. He was born about April 1649 in Rotterdam in the Netherlands, close to The Hague where Charles, who had been in exile there the year before, had conducted his relationship with Lucy. Charles and James saw little of each other for the first twelve years of his life, but he was to have a big impact on both on his father and Restoration politics more broadly. In 1685, he would challenge his uncle James II’s title to the throne, leading an armed rebellion against him.

Traumatic Childhood

James had a very turbulent and difficult children. Before he was even born, Charles left for Scotland in September 1649 in his attempt to claim the Scottish and English thrones.

When James was just a year old, he was kidnapped; missing for ten days, he was eventually found safe. His mother believed that agents of Cromwell’s commonwealth regime had attempted to remove Charles’ son as a potential future threat to the new republican rule. Looking for protection and funds, Lucy moved with her son to Breda and then to Paris, where she became the mistress of Viscount Taaffe, an Irish royalist living at the court-in-exile, with whom she had a daughter, Mary, in 1651.

Charles returned to exile in France in October 1651 after his failed uprising in England, and immediately made it clear that his relationship with Lucy was over. He may have seen a little of James during his time in Paris, but in July 1654, Charles moved away again to Germany for eighteen months in an attempt to gain funds and support for his cause.

Lucy’s relationship with Taaffe broke down in 1655, and she then moved back to The Hague in the Netherlands with her two children, where she continued to cause scandal and problems for the royalists. By January 1656, concerned about the problems that Lucy was creating, Charles and his advisors gave her some money, and sent Lucy and her two children to England. They lived in London for a few months until the Cromwellian government, anxious about her and James’ presence in London, arrested them, threw them in the Tower of London, and eventually shipped them back to the Netherlands in July.

Once they were back in Flanders, Charles decided to take his son into his custody. Once again, there was a kidnapping attempt on James, this time by his own father’s cronies in December 1657, which degenerated into an embarrassingly public botch-job. Then, in April 1658, one of Charles’ men managed to take James from his house, and went on the run with him for six months until he was finally put into the care of Lord William Crofts (whose surname James now took), a trusted gentleman of Charles’ bedchamber.

The day that James was taken from his home was the last time that he would see his mother. Lucy had fallen ill, and she died just 8 months later, in December 1658.

James was just nine years old at the time of his mother’s death. It had been a disturbing, fraught and potentially loveless start to life for a boy who was constantly moved around between countries, abandoned by his father, and used as a bargaining chip by his mother, with little regard for creating stability in his life, his education or his needs as a child.

Return to England and a New Life

In 1662, two years after Charles II had been crowned, he sent for James to join him at the English court. Although they had not spent much time together, the twelve-year-old boy quickly won over his father, who was said to dote on him. Barbara was also said to spend a lot of time with him – though this was probably out of self-interest rather than genuine affection; Queen Catherine, too, welcomed him to court.

Charles was besotted with his son and there were reports that the young duke had immediately charmed his father on his arrival at court. Charles may have felt more responsibility to the young James than his other children, given the way in which he had been treated as a child and the fact that his mother was now dead. But, whatever the circumstances, the two soon formed a genuine and loving bond. Samuel Pepys wrote several times of the affection between the pair, saying that Charles always showed “fondness to the little Duke” and that Monmouth was “so dandled by the King” that Charles’ devotion to his son was clear to everyone.

Charles quickly began elevating James’ position. Arrangements were made for James to marry Anne Scott, Countess of Buccleuch, a wealthy Scottish heiress. Anne’s father had long stipulated that any man who married his daughter would take the family name, so in preparation for the wedding, James changed his surname to Scott. On 14 February 1663, James was granted the titles of Duke of Monmouth, Earl of Doncaster, and Baron Scott of Tynedale, and given precedence over all dukes not of royal blood (that is, legitimate royal blood); in March, he was nominated as a Knight of the Garter. The marriage between the fourteen-year-old Monmouth and Anne, who was just twelve years old, took place on 20 April 1663: the following day, they were jointly made Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch, with Monmouth also taking the titles of Earl of Dalkeith and Lord Scott of Whitchester and Eskdale.

With Monmouth’s numerous titles and aristocratic marriage secured, Charles set about ensuring that he would have an income fit for the son of a king. At the end of 1662, he had granted Monmouth a patent for the regulation of drapery exports, which provided him with an annual income of £8000. By 1664 Charles had purchased and furnished a London townhouse and a Chiswick country house for him. Then there were his annual pensions: in February 1665, Monmouth was granted an annual pension of £6000, which rose to £8000 by 1673, plus an additional allowance of £4000 per year, which was supposedly to help cover the costs of entertaining the king so frequently at his lodgings.

Too much of a good thing

This rapid change in lifestyle, wealth, status and privilege quickly went to James’ young head. Like his father, he was athletic and loved the outdoors, preferring hunting, fishing and racing to work. Pepys, who saw him and the king during a ship inspection at Woolwich in July 1665, wrote that he was “the most skittish leaping gallant that ever I saw, always in action, vaulting or leaping, or clambering.” Also like his father, he quickly embraced the debauchery of the Restoration court, gambling, partying, drinking heavily and womanising.

Monmouth was living so extravagantly within just a few years of arriving at court, that he ran up debts of £18,000 by 1667, despite his enormous sources of revenue, and had to be given an advance on his pension to pay them off. He seemed to care only for frivolity and fun, and soon his reputation suffered. As early as July 1665, several of Pepys’ friends began to complain about the “baseness and looseness” of Monmouth and other young courtiers, and that they wished that the “King would banish some of these great persons publiquely from the Court.” By 1666, Pepys and his friend were bemoaning the behaviour of the reckless Monmouth, “who spends his time the most viciously and idly of any man, nor will be fit for any thing.” 

When it came to women, he also followed in his father’s footsteps. His relationship with his wife, Anne, was amicable but distant and, although they had six children together (two of whom died in infancy), the first was not born until nearly ten years after their wedding. Throughout their marriage Monmouth had a string of mistresses as well as more casual liaisons. In 1669 he had a daughter with Elizabeth Waller. By 1673 he was having an affair with Moll Kirke, a popular court beauty who was also fooling around with Monmouth’s uncle, the Duke of York, and other courtiers. He met Eleanor Needham in 1674, and they went on to have an affair lasting about seven years, resulting in the birth of four children. His final, well known mistress was Henrietta Maria Wentworth, whom he followed to the countryside after her mother sent her there in 1680 (probably to get her away from him in the first place). They lived together amidst the scandal of their affair, the Rye House Plot and, later, the start of the Monmouth Rebellion – more on these later – but there were reports from contemporaries that the pair were truly in love, and that Monmouth himself claimed that she had saved him from a licentious life and a marriage of convenience.

Monmouth also had a nasty, violent streak – perhaps due to his feeling invincible by virtue of being the apple of the king’s eye. On 21 December 1670, an MP, Sir John Coventry, made a joke in front of the entire house of Commons about Charles II’s passion for actresses (as by this time Moll Davis and Nell Gwyn were his mistresses). Shortly after, Monmouth ordered some men to ambush Coventry on his way home late in the evening, where they slit his nose to the bone. Some say that the king had ordered, or at least approved of the attack. Either way, Monmouth and his men were not punished for the crime, but the attack led to the passage of The Coventry Act of 1671, which stated that assaults accompanied by mutilation was a capital felony. He was also part of a drunken fight in a brothel in 1671 where a young parish officer was stabbed and killed. No one knew if it was Monmouth or his friend and accomplice, Christopher Monck, Duke of Albemarle, that murdered the man, but both were quickly given a royal pardon to avoid prosecution. 

Military Man

He wasn’t idle all the time though; Monmouth established himself as a capable soldier and leader in the navy and the armed forces.

During 1665, when he was just 16 years old, Monmouth served in the Royal Navy under his uncle James Duke of York in the Second Anglo-Dutch War, where they secured the victory of Solebay. In June 1666 he was created captain of a cavalry and on 16 September 1668 Charles made him captain of the Life Guards – though he generously compensated the existing captain in order to remove him from the post. At the outbreak of the Third Anglo-Dutch War, Monmouth commanded 6000 English and Scottish troops who were sent over to France to serve as part of Louis XIV’s army, and led the successful siege of the Dutch stronghold, Maastricht, in July 1673, which earned him great praise as a commanding officer. By this point, Charles had also been grooming Monmouth to take over the position of Commander in Chief of the armed forces. After the previous commander had died in 1670, all army matters had been the responsibility of a committee, who reported directly to Charles. But in 1674, the king instructed that all army orders should be passed to Monmouth first, who would in turn send them directly for royal approval. 

And it wasn’t just his time in the army that had kept him busy. He had also taken up honorary roles and appointments in the Privy Council, House of Peers, The Royal Society, as a chief justice in Trent, and as a governor of a hospital. Anyone who (understandably) had doubt about Monmouth’s capabilities in these roles were pleasantly surprised by his industry and dedication.

This part of Monmouth’s career shed a new light on the Duke as a man who had an aptitude for leading. The time he had spent away from the hedonism of the royal court had no doubt helped; those who had known him as a spoiled brat with a tendency to casual violence were impressed by his maturity and humanity that had developed as a result of these military responsibilities. The newfound respect for and interest in Monmouth reignited debates around the question of his legitimacy. By now, many people were starting to see a man who had the ability to lead, inspire his men, and put his mind to administrative as well as physical duties – great qualities in a king. If only he were a legitimate son…

A question of legitimacy

Within just weeks of Monmouth arriving at court, tongues were wagging about whether he was in fact a legitimate child to the king. Pepys wrote on 27 October 1662 that there were rumours “that young Crofts is lawful son to the King, the King being married to his mother. How true this is, God knows…” 

For a time, Charles did little to dispel people’s suspicions. Aside from quickly elevating him to the top of the peerage and securing his marriage to the wealthiest heiress in Britain, the king made comments and decisions about his son that were not in keeping with the usual treatment of a royal bastard. For the first year that Monmouth was at court, any paperwork regarding him stipulated that he was Charles’ “natural” child (indicating illegitimacy) but, after a year, this qualifier was dropped. The first coat of arms he received in 1663 did not include a baton sinister, the heraldic marker of bastardy. He wore purple mourning clothes and the same insignias at special events and feasts as the royal family did. And yet Charles maintained that his brother was the rightful heir to the throne and never swayed on the question of whether he had been married to Lucy (he had not). Charles’ mixed signals about Monmouth’s legitimacy were confusing for everyone – including Monmouth. 

Two years after arriving at court, Pepys’ informant had reported that the young duke had threatened “that he would be the death of any man that says the King was not married to his mother” and was furious that anyone would claim that he was illegitimate. Why he was so certain that he was legitimate, or at least careful to assert that he was, is debateable. Perhaps Lucy had told him so and trained him to always claim his legitimacy. Maybe it was true, and he knew full well that his parents had been married. Or it could be he knew that if he played his cards right, and insisted he was Charles’ legitimate son, he might one day become king.

Charles clearly adored his son, and for several years the court chinwaggers were frantically whispering that Charles was sure to make the Duke of Monmouth his heir. This, of course, began to create division at court. Many people who were appalled that an illegitimate child born of a woman of ill repute would swoop in and undermine the rightful line of succession. Others who disapproved of the Catholicism of the king’s brother James Duke of York (he had converted in 1668), were thrilled at the prospect of a young, Protestant heir. It was clear at this stage Queen Catherine could not have children and, despite pressures to divorce her and find a new wife who could, Charles refused to dismiss the Queen. And so, factions at court began to emerge between those who encouraged Charles to name Monmouth his successor, and those who supported York’s claim to the throne.

The “Protestant Duke”

In August 1678, Monmouth returned from a military campaign in Flanders, to the commotion of the Popish Plot; an alleged conspiracy by Catholics to assassinate King Charles, burn London, and massacre English protestants. In a country that was already anti-Catholic, this plot gripped the nation, causing panic and hysteria. For four years the allegations about the plot, its subsequent investigations, and the executions of people supposedly involved in the conspiracy bubbled away, manifesting even more anti-Catholic sentiment. Eventually the plot was revealed to be largely fabricated, but the damage against Catholics was done.

Motivated by the Popish Plot, The Second Test Act of 1678 was pushed through Parliament, declaring that Catholics could not hold high office. And, in May 1679, a faction in Parliament proposed the Exclusion Bill that would exclude all Catholics – including, of course, James Duke of York – from succeeding to the throne. The bill did not become law because Charles had dissolved Parliament to prevent it being passed, but it was clear that York was up against rising opposition.

Monmouth’s popularity, by contrast, was gaining more and more traction. He had taken it upon himself to lead the investigation into the Popish Plot and his stock amongst the people and in Parliament soared. His reputation as a dashing and brave Protestant son of the king, “the Protestant Duke”, made him a celebrity. His relationship with York deteriorated rapidly after 1678: York had insisted that documents appointing Monmouth as Captain-General stated that he was the “natural son” of Charles II. On discovering this, Monmouth had the wording removed before it was sent to Charles for signing. He was making a statement: he would not be tainted by bastardy - he was the son of the king, and that was all that mattered. 

By this point, Charles was exasperated by the false plots, the intolerant religious climate, of Monmouth’s pig-headedness, of everything. As Monmouth’s popularity increased and anti-Catholicism swept England, Charles was forced to send his son into exile in September 1679. Over in the Dutch Republic, Monmouth found himself surrounded and puffed up by Protestant supporters, Furious at being sent into exile while York had been sent to govern in Scotland, Monmouth took it upon himself to return to England – without Charles’ permission. He slipped into London on the night of 27 November, but his arrival didn’t remain a secret for long. By dawn there were bonfires being lit in honour of his return and, by the next night, there were as many bonfires across the capital as there had been at the Restoration.

Charles was irate. The next day he stripped the Duke of most of his offices and ordered him to go back into exile. Monmouth refused. Many people thought that Charles would exercise some of his famous clemency and forgive his son, but he was backed into a corner and steadfast in his decision. Monmouth’s wife, Anna, and Nell Gwyn - who had become good friends with the Duke - petitioned Charles on his behalf. But even when Monmouth’s son died a week later, Charles was unmoved in his resolve and refused to see him.

Ego and Intrigues

Seeing an opportunity to ride the wave of anti-Catholicism and hatred that was building against York, the faction of Monmouth supporters reignited rumours of his legitimacy. The story went that John Cosin, who had taken Lucy’s last confession, reported that Lucy told him that she had evidence that she and Charles were married that was kept locked in a little black box. Cosin had died in 1671, leaving no witnesses to the story, and a search for the black box turned up no concrete proof except for some memoirs written by Lucy in which she said that she was not just a mistress, but a wife. Monmouth also claimed that he had definite proof that his parents had been married, though he never produced any of the evidence. But it was enough to rally his supporters.

Charles once again tried to quash the rumours: he held a Privy Council Meeting on 27 April 1680, declaring unequivocally that he had never been married to Lucy, had never had any wife but Queen Catherine and demanded an investigation into origins of these rumours. Angered by Charles’ denial of his legitimacy, Monmouth was increasingly drawn into opposition politics, and took it upon himself to become the face of what could be a secure, Protestant future for England.

During 1680-82 Monmouth started to create a real stir. He made several trips to towns like Chichester, Bath, and Oxford, where he was hosted by gentries, nobles, mayors and aldermen, and welcomed by the common folk who celebrated his arrival and lit bonfires in his honour. He made appearances in London, publicly dining with his political supporters. At one point he even performed a touching for the king’s evil, a tradition where the touch of a king was supposed to cure scrofula, signifying that he was confident of his legitimacy and his right to the throne. In the meantime, Parliament had tried twice more to pass an Exclusion Bill barring Catholics from the throne.

On 12 June 1683, the details of the Rye House Plot - a conspiracy to assassinate Charles II and the Duke of York - were revealed. The plan had been to ambush and kill the royal brother while they were on their return journey from Newmarket to Windsor on 1 April. However, because of a major fire at Newmarket on 22 March, Charles was forced to return to Windsor early, spoiling the conspirators’ plans. After arrests, confessions, and trials were over, a total of twelve people were executed, ten imprisoned, ten sent into exile, and one slit his throat in prison. But the worst news of all that had emerged during all this was that the Duke of Monmouth was implicated in the plot. Charles was distraught. He didn’t truly believe that Monmouth had planned to murder him, or if he was even privy to the full scope of the plot, but he was as terrified for his son’s life as he was for the threat on his. The only option to keep Monmouth safe was for him to go into exile, and so he returned to Brussels in April 1684.

The Monmouth Rebellion and A Grisly End

Charles II died in February 1685. The moment dreaded by so many had come; James II & VII was king. By now, Monmouth was living at The Hague: James immediately sent word to William of Orange to have Monmouth arrested, but William tipped him off and Monmouth fled.

There were already Scottish and English Protestants living in exile in the Low Countries, and soon a plot to overthrow James was underway. Within just a few months, the plans had been made and Monmouth agreed to head the rebellion, leading the west country of England that had been so supportive of him. Bolstered by popular support and assertions (and his own belief) that he was the rightful heir to the throne, Monmouth recruited a rag-tag army of skirmishers, soldiers and locals and led the campaign against the new king.

Unfortunately for Monmouth, the Rebellion was unsuccessful, and he was captured by James II’s forces.  While being held in the Tower of London, Monmouth begged with James II for his life, even offering to convert to Catholicism to appease the king.  James refused his pleas, and Monmouth was found guilty of treason. James allowed him to see his children one last time and agreed to a beheading instead of hanging – a death more fit for a nobleman.

On 15 July 1685, Monmouth was led out to the scaffold at Tower Hill to be executed.  Apparently, before he knelt at the block, he begged the axeman, Jack Ketch, to make the execution swift and to finish it in one blow.  Ketch had recently botched several executions, and Monmouth was allegedly worried that he would suffer the same fate. Sure enough, according to several reports, Ketch took between five and eight strikes to Monmouth… some even said that he had to finish off the job with a knife to sever it from the body. His remains were buried under the communion table at St Peter’s Church in the Tower of London.

Legacy

Even though James Scott was posthumously stripped of his titles, he and his wife had been jointly given the dukedom of Buccleuch and the subsidiary titles. Because Anna retained the peerage, their sons inherited the Scottish titles, which have been passed through James and Anne’s descendants and remain in the family even today.