Rupert, Prince Palatine

by Eva Scott

In September 1668 the Prince was made Constable of Windsor, in November he was granted the keepership of the Park, and in 1670 he became Lord Lieutenant of Berkshire. From that time he lived much at Windsor, but we find him still occasionally employed in the public service. At the request of the Mayor and Aldermen of London he laid the first stone of a new pillar of the Exchange.[[25]] In 1669 he was on the Committee for Foreign Affairs; and in 1670 he was authorised to conclude a commercial treaty with the French Minister, Colbert.[[26]] In 1671 he was one of the commission appointed to consider the settlement of Ireland; and in 1679 various "odd letters and superscriptions" taken on a suspected Frenchman, were handed over for the Prince to decipher.[[27]]

But after the last naval action of 1673 Rupert retired more and more from public life. The peacefulness of Windsor suited him far better than the turmoil of the court, and he devoted himself to the repairing and embellishing of the castle, in which he took an "extraordinary delight."[[28]] Evelyn, who visited Windsor in 1670, describes the castle as exceedingly "ragged and ruinous," but Rupert had already begun to repair the Round Tower, and Evelyn was lost in admiration of the Prince's ingenious adornment of his rooms. The hall and staircase he had decorated entirely with trophies of war,—pikes, muskets, pistols, bandeliers, holsters, drums, pieces of armour, all new and bright were arranged about the walls in festoons, giving a very curious effect. From this martial hall Evelyn passed into Rupert's bedroom, and was immensely struck with the sudden contrast; for there the walls were hung with beautiful tapestry, and with "curious and effeminate pictures," all suggestion of war being carefully avoided. Thus successfully had Rupert represented the two sides,—martial and artistic,—of his nature.[[29]]

At this time he devoted himself more closely than ever to his scientific and mechanical studies, "not disdaining the most sooty and unpleasant labour of the meanest mechanic."[[30]] In such harmless and intelligent pursuits did he find his pleasures. He was not a person of extravagant tastes, which was fortunate, seeing that his means were not large, and that his purse was always open to the needy, so that he had no great margin for personal expenditure. From his trading ventures he doubtless derived some profits; and in 1660 he had been assigned a pension of £4,000 per annum. For his naval services he received no wages, but occasional sums of money offered as the King's "free gift."[[31]] As Constable of Windsor he had perquisites, and when he chose to live at Whitehall, an allowance of food was given him, at the rate of six dishes per meal.[[32]] But, after his appointment to Windsor, he was seldom seen at Whitehall, except when it was necessary to attend some State funeral, at which functions he was generally required to play the part of chief mourner.

Sometimes his solitude was disturbed by visitors. In 1670 he entertained the young Prince of Orange, who had come to marry his cousin, Mary of York.[[33]] In May 1671 the Installation of the Garter was held at Windsor, when the King of Sweden, represented by Lord Carlisle, and introduced by Rupert and James of York, received the insignia of the Garter.[[34]] At intervals the King paid private visits to his cousin; and in February 1677 he came down with the intention of spending a week at the castle, but his intention was changed by the wild conduct of his retinue. "On Wednesday night," says a letter in the Rutland MSS., "some of the Courtiers fell to their cups and drank away all reason. At last they began to despise art too, and broke into Prince Rupert's laboratory, and dashed his stills, and other chemical instruments to pieces. His Majesty went to bed about twelve o'clock, but about two or three, one of Henry Killigrew's men was stabbed in the company in the next chamber to the King.... The Duke ran speedily to His Majesty's bed, drew the curtain, and said: 'Sir, will you lie in bed till you have your throat cut?' Whereupon His Majesty got up, at three o'clock in the night, and came immediately away to Whitehall."[[35]]

To such visitors the Prince must infinitely have preferred his solitude. He was a lonely man; the last, in a sense, of his generation. Between him and the Courtiers of Charles a great gulf lay. Will Legge was dead, and most of his other friends had likewise passed before him. Lord Craven was left, and Ormonde absent in Ireland, but they were the last of the old régime. For companionship Rupert fell back on his own "gentlemen," the people of Berkshire, and his dogs. His "family" was devoted to him, but it seems to have been somewhat troublesome on occasion. Thus, soon after the Restoration, certain members of it caused the Lord Chamberlain to search Albemarle's cellars for gunpowder, a proceeding which naturally excited Albemarle's wrath. Rupert was so exceedingly annoyed at the occurrence, that he not only dismissed the servant in fault, but "offered to fight any one who set the design on foot."[[36]] Later, we find a petition from a Frenchman, complaining of an assault made upon him "by several scoundrels of the Prince's stables."[[37]]

Rupert's love for dogs had not abated with advancing years. In 1667 he lost a favourite greyhound, for which he advertised as follows:—"Lost, a light, fallow-coloured greyhound bitch. She was lost on Friday last, about twelve of the clock, and whosoever brings her to Prince Rupert's lodgings at the Stone Gallery, Whitehall, they shall be well rewarded for their pains."[[38]] But at Windsor it was a "faithful great black dog" which was his inseparable companion, and which accompanied him on the solitary evening rambles which won them both the reputation of wizards. The fact that he was so regarded by the country people troubled Rupert not at all, and he referred to it with grim amusement in writing to his sister Elizabeth.[[39]]

"And thus," says one of his gentlemen, "our noble and generous Prince spent the remainder of his years in a sweet and sedate repose, free from the confused noise and clamour of war, wherewith he had, in his younger years, been strangely tossed, like a ship, upon the boisterous waves of fickle and inconstant fortune."

The end came in 1682. For many years Rupert had been quite an invalid—"fort maladif", as the Danish Ambassador told the Princess Sophie; not only the old wound in his head, but also an injury to his leg caused the Prince acute and constant suffering during the last years of his life. He was at his town house in Spring Gardens, November 1682, when he was seized with a fever, of which he died in a few days. It was said that his horror of being bled led him to conceal the true cause of his suffering until it was too late to remedy it. "Yesterday Prince Rupert died," says a letter, dated November 30th. "He was not ill above four or five days; an old hurt in his leg, which has been some time healed up, broke out again, and put him into an intermitting fever. But he had a pleurisy withal upon him, which he concealed, because he would not be let blood until it was too late. He died in great pain."[[40]] Rupert made his will, November 27th, appointing Lord Craven his executor, and guardian of his daughter, Ruperta; and not forgetting any of those who had served him faithfully. Two days later he died.[[41]] His funeral was conducted with all due state, Lord Craven acting chief mourner; and the King ordered a waxen effigy of the Prince to be placed, as was then the fashion, beside his grave. He lies in the chapel of Henry VII, in Westminster Abbey, but his effigy is not one of those that survive to the present day; and the verger who points out to us the tombs of George of Denmark and other insignificant people, passes by that of Rupert of the Rhine without remark.

[[1]] Memoir of Prince Rupert, p. 75.