We have to jump a few hundred years and begin our story at the point where they came into contact with our other characters, Atholl and Roxburghe, at the beginning of the seventeenth century, when all three were ranged in the bitter quarrel over religion. Two-thirds of church plunder had fallen into the hands of Scots noblemen, which largely accounted for their rabid Protestantism; self-interest more than anything else was behind it. The events under Charles I finally led to dukedoms for them all. It started with a Prayer Book.
Foolishly unaware of the stern power of Scots dogmatism, Charles I attempted to impose upon Scotland a new Prayer Book which in tone sounded suspiciously close to the detested Popish liturgy. The first solemn reading took place in St Giles's Church in Edinburgh in July 1637, and the ceremony quickly turned into a riot. Footstools were hurled across the church amid a din of outraged religious pride. Within hours, a surge of feeling had swept through the capital that startled the King. He offered to amend certain passages, he insisted on his own hatred of Popery, he sought to placate and compromise. But the Scots would be satisfied with nothing less than the withdrawal of the new Prayer Book, and of that implacability was born the attitudes which were set towards inevitable collision.
In 1638 a solemn Covenant was drawn up, a bond by which the Scots would "adhere to and defend the aforesaid true religion, and forbear the practise of all novations in the matter of the worship of God till they be tried and allowed in free Assemblies or Parliaments". On 28th February the Covenant was read in the church of Blackfriars in Edinburgh, after which it was signed by masses of Scots, from the highest in the land to the frenzied crowd, some of whom cut a vein for their ink. The first to sign was the ancestor of another of our ducal families, the Earl of Sutherland. The signatories and supporters were henceforth known as the "Covenanters", and their opponents the "Royalists". Though they did not say so, and though they still pledged loyalty to the King (if he would mend his ways), the Covenanters were starting a revolution. In the ensuing Civil War, the Earl of Roxburghe was for the King, while his son and heir Harry joined the Covenanters (the Earl even had to take refuge in the Mayor's house in Newcastle to escape the murderous wrath of his own son). The Earl of Atholl was also Royalist. The Marquess of Hamilton was for the King, and the Earl of Montrose was first for the Covenanters, then for the King, for his loyalty to whom he suffered one of the most hideous deaths in Scottish history at the hands of Argyll and the Covenanters. As for Argyll, after some initial hesitation he became the leader of the rebellious faction. His father had warned the King that he was "a man of craft and subtlety and falsehood, and can love no man; and if he ever finds it in his power to do you a mischief he will be sure to do it".2 Certainly his career supports his father's bad opinion of him, for he moved from one firmly held principle to another with the consistency of blancmange.
Argyll's first prise de position was at the General Assembly of 1638, which developed almost haphazardly into a revolutionary gathering. The King had sent a Royal Commissioner (Hamilton) to declare the Assembly dissolved, whereupon the delegates decided to take no notice, and to proceed as if nothing had happened. From that moment, of course, the Assembly was treasonable. Argyll came off his fence and declared himself by repudiating the Royal Commissioner. Since he had an army of thousands at his command, he was immediately adopted as the leader of the Covenanters.
By 1641 Argyll was made a Marquess to ensure his loyalty and in 1651 he placed the crown on Charles II’s head at Scone. But he had acquiesced under Cromwell, his loyalties were, to say the least, in question, and Charles did not trust him. In 1660, at the Restoration, Argyll tried to seek conciliation with the King, but it was too late. Mindful perhaps of Argyll's remorseless, vengeful and savage treatment of his enemy Montrose, whose body had been hacked into little bits and whose withered hand had been nailed up outside the the King's window, Charles thought the only place for this barbarian was in prison. He had proved that his word was as substantial as the wind. His own explanation for his tergiversations was that he was a "distracted man in a distracted time", but such pleading was insufficient to save him. He was tried for High Treason, imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle, and executed at the Market Cross of Edinburgh in 1661. His behaviour as he went to his end was the most admirable episode of his life. He was calm, dignified, polite, totally without rancour, delivered a long lucid speech before he died, and afterwards it was found that his stomach had completely digested the partridge he had eaten not long before, a sure sign of an equable mood. His head was placed on a spike on the Tolbooth, the same spot where Montrose's head had previously been on display. It remained there for three years, the object of loathing by those who came to see it. Clarendon said he was "a person of extraordinary cunning". He was the only Scottish noble to be executed at the Restoration. With his death, Scotland heaved a sigh. As Churchill has written, "We may admire as polished flint the convictions and purposes of the Scots Government and its divines, but one must be thankful never to have been brought into contact with any of them."3
The 9th Earl of Argyll, restored to his father's earldom in 1663, though not to the marquessate, was in total opposition to his father most of his life. The Marquess had even had to ask for an English garrison to protect him from the ravages of his son's attacks on his lands (as Roxburghe had sought protection from his son). The new earl was personally in charge of Charles II in Scotland, and behaved very decently towards him (much to the annoyance of his father). He tried to effect the inconceivable by reconciling the House of Argyll with the House of Montrose; he was godfather to Montrose's son. But the age-old enmity with the House of Atholl continued.
James II resented the power wielded by Argyll in the Highlands, where he was nicknamed "King Campbell", and further loathed him for being the leader of the Protestant cause. There was no way in which the King and the Earl could be friends. James eventually secured his downfall by making an issue of his refusal to subscribe to the Test Act, which was insufficiently anti-Popish for him. He was accused, found guilty of High Treason, and sentenced to death. "I know nothing of the Scotch law, but this I know, that we should not hang a dog here, on the grounds on which my lord Argyle has been sentenced," said Halifax.4 This was in 1681. He was imprisoned, and while awaiting execution, he escaped in the disguise of a page, with the help of his step-daughter. His last years were devoted to supporting the Monmouth rebellion, at first from exile in Holland, and later in Scotland. He was captured and beheaded in 1685, on the same spot as his father twenty-four years previously.
The next in line was created 1st Duke of Argyll in 1701, followed very shortly by the 1st Duke of Atholl and the 1st Duke of Rox- burghe. The Atholls and the Roxburghes had been pursuing their own destinies while the House of Argyll had disgraced itself twice in two generations. The Marquess of Atholl, so created in 1676, together with a sonorous list of other titles which began the unrivalled collection of honours possessed by this family, was a firm Royalist. He took up arms in support of Charles II, rose to prominence after the Restoration, and was instrumental in tickling the wounds of Argyll's disgrace. It was he who had captured Argyll, plundered his lands, and captured his son Charles, who had sent round the fiery cross to raise the Clan Campbell; Atholl intended to hang him at his father's gate at Inveraray Castle, and was only prevented from this barbarous act by the intervention of the Privy Council. Contemporaries did not think highly of Atholl, who resembled the Argylls in being equivocal and unreliable. Macaulay called him "the falsest, the most fickle, the most pusillanimous of mankind". In fairness to Atholl, such qualities appear not to be unique among Scottish families; the more one reads of the chieftains and the earls, the more one is convinced that there is hardly a dependable or constant man among them. One brilliant exception was his son, the 1st Duke of Atholl (1660-1724), who at least was true to his word. "Sa parole est inviolable," said a contemporary. Most importantly, he was a powerful supporter of William of Orange.
The 1st Earl of Roxburghe had accompanied Ja
mes I to England on his accession to the throne in 1603, and had been a Royalist in the Civil War. His son and heir Harry Ker was with the Covenanters. He, incidentally, died of a bout of heavy drinking, thus creating havoc in the Roxburghe succession, the complications of which are felt to this day. The 2nd, 3rd and 4th Earls of Roxburghe made no significant mark on the course of events, but the 5th Earl was a man of some eminence, and it was he who became 1st Duke of Roxburghe in 1707. He, too, was a powerful supporter of William of Orange.
These three men, then, had in common their commitment to William of Orange, their espousal of Whig principles, their descent from irascible tribal warriors. And they founded three ducal houses.
* * *
The 1st Duke of Argyll was closely identified with William of Orange. He joined him in The Hague and travelled with him to England. He administered the coronation oath to William and Mary. His father and grandfather had been executed for treason, and he was determined at all costs to avoid the same fate. He enjoyed himself, and saw no cause to diminish the sum of life's pleasures. Though married, he lived apart from his wife, and died "in the arms of his whore" after a riotous life. It should not be forgotten, however, that he was chief of Clan Campbell at the time of their most shameful hour. In 1692 thirty-eight members of the Clan Macdonald were murdered, some in their sleep, by Campbells who had accepted the Macdonald offer of hospitality for the night. It is the blackest of clan treacheries, and it has come to be known as the Massacre of Glencoe.
The 2nd Duke of Argyll (1678 or 1680 to 1743) possessed all the cunning of his wily ancestors, yet added some leavening of his own. He was a brilliant military man, serving under Marlborough from 1708 to 1710 with some distinction, and eventually rising to the position of Field Marshal. His military reputation at the beginning of the eighteenth century was second only to that of Marlborough himself. This, however, did not satisfy him. He considered that only the sole command of the army would be commensurate with the distinction his family deserved. Anything less was a slur. He consequently nursed a gnawing hatred for Marlborough, based on jealousy.
Argyll was in love with the military life, he envied Marlborough's exalted position, he saw him as a rival. No opportunity to do a disservice to his superior was ever missed. Marlborough was led to write: "I cannot have a worse opinion of anybody than of the Duke of Argyll."5
Obviously, the Duke was ruled by extremes of passion. Hot- tempered, proud, and impetuous, he was profoundly conscious of being the senior representative of a clan already 500 years old, and would not consider humility to be appropriate. Swift thought him ambitious and covetous, but such was only the surface. Family pride was his motive, more than personal ambition.
Argyll's own contribution to the family characteristic was an astonishing oratorical power, since when the Dukes of Argyll have more than once been among the most accomplished speakers of their time. The 2nd Duke's influence in state affairs was attributable in some measure to the power of his voice, which carried conviction as well as persuasion. His word (like the Duke of Atholl's) was sacred, altogether "free of the least share of dissimulation", said Lockhart. In this at least he departed from the traditions of his forbears.
The 3rd Duke of Argyll (1682-11761) took less after his brother the 2nd Duke than after his father the 1st Duke, who, it is remembered, died in the arms of his whore. This Argyll also had a mistress, to whom he left all his property in England, and by whom he fathered an illegitimate son. She was Mrs Ann Williams, and the boy was known as William Campbell. By his wife, the Duke had no children at all, so that his titles passed to a distant Campbell, and the bastard William had more common descendants who no doubt live in England now. The Duke was said to treat his wife badly, preferring the company of his cats, and there was even a rumour that he murdered her and buried her under the stairs. Talking of cats, Walpole says that it would be barbarous to send any to Argyll, "he will shut them up and starve them, and then bury them under the stairs with his wife"." There is no evidence whatever for this insinuation, and the Duchess was in fact interred in a perfectly regular manner; but for Walpole to repeat a rumour, it must have been in circulation already, and there must have been some reason to believe it. Walpole also said he had a "mysterious dingy nature", and that he lived darkly, like a wizard. The general belief in his strangeness, and in his wife's odd death, was strong enough to set tongues wagging again when he provoked a duel between Lord Coke and Henry Bellenden, both brothers-in-law, because one had been rash enough to voice the current suspicion. "I have no doubt but a man who would dispatch his wife would have no scruple at the assassination of a person that should reproach him with it," commented Walpole.7
It should be mentioned that the 3rd Duke assembled one of the most valuable private libraries in the country (when he died in 1761 the twenty-one-year-old Duke of Roxburghe was just beginning his collection, which would eclipse Argyll's, and remain celebrated among bibliophiles to the present day). He renovated and improved Inveraray Castle, and built Whitton Place at Twickenham, on the edge of Hounslow Heath, where highway robbers were hung on gibbets. Bramston wrote a gently satirical epigram which suggested that when the Duke caught sight of a rogue on a gibbet,
He beheld it and wept, for it caused him to muse on
Full many a Campbell, that died with his shoes on.
The ducal coronet passed to a cousin, descended from the Earls of Argyll, who was the 4th Duke of Argyll (1693-1770). A military man, his duchess was famed for her wit and beauty, and was buried "with unusual honours" at St Anne's, Soho. Not such wit and beauty as was possessed, however, by the next duchess, wife of the 5th Duke (1723-1806), and before that the wife of the Duke of Hamilton - the legendary Elizabeth Gunning.An account of the amazing Gunning story belongs to the Hamilton dukedom, but so riveting is her personal fascination that she can bear some repetition here. In 175Q it is true to say that there were no more famous women alive than Elizabeth and Maria Gunning, from Ireland, daughters of Mr John Gunning. They were mobbed in the streets by admirers anxious to catch a glimpse of them, or still better to touch them. They could not emerge from a carriage without causing a stampede. "These are two Irish girls," said Walpole, a note of wonder in his voice, "of no fortune, who are declared the handsomest women alive."8 They even created a proverb. The kindest wish of good fortune you could receive in Dublin was "May the luck of the Gunnings attend you". Luck indeed. Maria became Countess of Coventry, and Elizabeth Duchess of Hamilton. She was then created Baroness Hamilton in her own right, with remainder to her heirs male, and she became Duchess again on her marriage with the Duke of Argyll. A third Duke, of Bridgwater, was also asking her to marry him, and even George III was among her admirers. When she settled for Argyll, however, society approved. "It is a match that would not disgrace Arcadia . . . her beauty has made sufficient noise, and in some people's eyes is even improved . . . exactly like antediluvian lovers, they reconcile contending clans. (The Earl of Argyll, it will be remembered, had defied the Marquess of Hamilton in 1638, and become head of the anti-royalist Covenanters; the families had been hereditary enemies ever since). Again Walpole sounds breathless with astonishment: "What an extraordinary fate is attached to these two women! Who could have believed that a Gunning would unite the two great houses of Campbell and Hamilton?" Not only that, but of Elizabeth Gunning's children, four would become dukes, and one an earl. The present dukes of Hamilton and Argyll are both descended from her. To make the picture complete, she was not only beautiful, not only lucky, but so irreproachably nice. She had the most delightful, charming character, which gives strength to her legend; transient beauty is not enough to create the kind of reputation that the name Gunning evokes, 200 years later. Her beauty was very temporary; ill-health spoilt its bloom, making her dowdy. Her sister suffered a worse fate. She wore too much white paint on her face, and contracted a consumptive condition as a result, from which she died at the age of twenty-five. The Duke of Argyll has necessarily been smothered by the r
eputation of his wife. He rose to the rank of Field Marshal, collected another title in the peerage of Great Britain, and died a happy old man. His son, 6th Duke of Argyll (1768-1839), half-brother of the Duke of Hamilton, is known to us only through his affair with Harriette Wilson.
Harriette assures us that Argyll inherited all his mother's Gunning beauty. "For my part", she says, "I had never seen a countenance I had thought half so beautifully expressive."10 Since she was something of a connoisseuse, we may take such praise as no light matter. Frederick Lamb had told her he was "the finest fellow on earth, and all the women adore him". Harriette later noticed the beautiful and voluptuous expression of Argyll's dark blue eyes. Resistance was vain. They made an assignation, on the turnpike. Harriette waited, and waited; Argyll failed to arrive. Stinging with humiliation, she wrote him a cold letter, which was intended to put an end to the friendship. She even believed the stories of his vanity, that he knew he could have any woman he wanted, that he was ravishingly beautiful, and that he would derive satisfaction from jilting a young lady. Whatever the case, Harriette seems to be unaware that she is, like all the others, obedient to his bidding. He made an excuse; she believed him; the affair got under way, at his pace and when he wanted. It was a passionate relationship, ending in Miss Wilson's being installed at the nobleman's London residence. Her comment at this time is that he was languishing in the self-neglect of bachelorhood, with some ragged shirts, a threadbare suit, "an old horse, an old groom, an old carriage, and an old chateau. It was to console himself for all this antiquity, I suppose, that he fixed upon so very young a mistress as myself. Thus, after having gone through all the routine of sighs, vows, and rural walks he at last saw me blooming and safe in his dismal chateau in Argyll Street."[10] This precedes in time the more protracted affair with the Duke of Beaufort's heir (see Chapter 5). Happiness was short-lived with Argyll. There were frequent jealous rows, occasioned by his apparently insatiable need to allow the rest of London to enjoy his beauty. In one of her very rare moments of prurient suggestiveness, Harriette relates one such row, and comments, "Our reconciliation was completed, in the usual way."11
The Dukes Page 37
