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FOSTER. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. VOL. 2. LAMARTINE'S GIRONDISTS. DAWKF'Q hic;T0RY OF THE POPES, TRANSLATED B'Y ^ ConS in'fTols"^ V° I "arA^i/V Uus 11., after Raphael. COXE'S MEMOIRS OF THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH, (to form 3 vols.) ^. BONN'S STANDARD LIBRARY. i29. SHERIDAN S DRAMATIC WORKS AND LIFE. I'orlruil. 30. COXES MEMOIRS OF MARLBOROUGH. VOL.2. ./'• - 31. GOETHE'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 13 BOOKS. PORTRAIT. 32. RANKES HISTORY OF THE POPES. VOL.2. ll'iCh hulez, and Porlrail of liuiuceiit X. 33. LAMARTINES HISTORY OF THE GIRONDISTS. ut l.;iiii:irtiii('. mill :i>kt U'li ul tlic las'. IU'mjIiiiIuii ■11/ nj (he liucheu. «■ c c- c - c c c. c- VOL. 3. With a Memoir 3. 34. COXES MEMOIRS OF THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. VOL 35. WHEATLEY ON THE COMMON PRAYER. FRONTISPIECE. 36. RANKES POPES. VOL.3. rortraH. of Clement ill. 37. MILTON S PROSE WORKS. VOL.1. Porlrail. 38. MENZELS HISTORY OF GERMANY. COMPLETE IN 3 VOLS. VOL 1. I'ortrait of Chitrlrmitijne. 39. MILTONS PROSE WORKS. VOL. 2. Frontispkcr. 40. MILTON S PROSE WORKS. VOL.3. Portrait of Laud. 41. MENZELS HISTORY OF GERMANY. VOL.2. Porlrail of Charles V. 42. SCHLEGELS /ESTHETIC AND MISCELLANEOUS WORKS, CONTAINING i.cltiTs on Cliii~li:ili Art. Kssmv on Gothic .Arcliitecliin:, Keniiirks on tlic Uominci;. I'oetry of tlie Miililk .\i;cs, on SliiikspcHte, ll^ jjiiuits, of ^Ue Beautiful, uiiil on lli Laniruajjc lui 43. ^ III 1^1 Kill i\t K, i.30'\ \ 1.111 vjuLiiii. .1 1 1 IIIII.L iiii I., iv(,iii.ii |\:> III I lilt: ^^ le Miililk .\i;cs, on SliiikspcHte, llip Limits^ of ^le Beautiful, uii mil Wisdom of the luiliaus. >^ ^^ _ ' ^. -^ s* -- ,!<•' GOETHE'S WORKS. VOL. 2, contiiining tlip remninder of h\s Auto^»iograpliy, to^'ftlier with Ins Travils in Italy, IVaiici:, Hiid Switii'Hand. ,__ 44. SCHILLER'S WORKS. VOL 4. CONTAINING "THE ROBBERS," "FIESKO,' "Lo\e and Intri^'uc," and -The Gliost-Ster," translated liy Il^.^RY G. Bou.v. 45. MENZEL'S GERMANY. VOL. 3. Portrait of Prince .MettcrnicL / 46. SCHLEGELS LECTURES ON MODERN HISTORY. 47. LAMARTINES HISTORY OF THE FRENQtl REV0»l»U7^O>< OF 1848. With Frontisjiiece, contaiiiiuij (t Portraits. ^ V -', . . -^ -■ • 48 >- V " ' ' .,,-.•.. -.^.|^, 49. VASARIS LIVES OF THE MOST CELEBRATED PAINTERS. SCULPTORS, AM) ARCllirtXTS. iranslatca by Mrs. FosTKR. Vol.1. Purlrmt. W^. c - t- *-■ • . v It 'Vr^\' I/-V o ^ ^ /."x 50. JUNIUSS LETTERS. VOL. 2, containing Letters, an Essay disclosini; the Authorship, and a very elaborate Iu(ifi.Y. . f' 51. TAYLOR S (JEREMY) HOLY LIVING AND DYING. Portrait. >2 7/ . . CT-^^'-'' JUNIUSS LETTERS, WITH ALL THE NOTES OF WOODFALL'S EDITION, and important additions, i vols. \ol. 1, contamini all the Orii/inal Letters. ED PAINTERS, SCULPTORS, IKR. \ol. 1. PurtruU. the Private and MisceUancoui/,^-^'!^,,'! d a very elaborate Iud«.\. . P'-' -''r^i >YING. Portrait. ^ 7/ , OETHES WORKS. VOL. 3, CONTAINING "FAUST," "IPHIGENIA "TOKQUATO TAS-;0." and " EtniONl." Translated l.v .\tiss Siv.VMVit i ■With "GUKTZ V0.\ BEIU.ICIIINGEN," by Str W.M.TKu'Scorr. J) '7^. CAREFULLY ■' : V. : •:: i^p. 52. GOETHE'S HISTORY, THE TRANSLATION W. .MdURisON. Vol. 1. •; 53. NEANDERS CHURCH Keviscd l)y the Rkv. .\. J 54. NEANDERS LIFE OF CHRIST. COMPLETE IN 1 VOu"* 55. VASARIS LIVES, BY MRS. FOSTER. VOL. 2. (* \ 56. NEANDERS CHURCH HISTORY. VOL. 2. ' ^ iV/v Uniform xcith his Standard LiBKART,;)W(re 3j. Gd., BOHN'S EXTRA VOLUMES. 1. GRAMMONTS MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF CHARLES II. Boscobcl Narralnrs. Portrait if ?\cll (Juyiine. 2&3. RABELAIS' WORKS. COMPLETE IN 2 VOLS. 4. COUNT HAMILTONS FAIRY TALES. PORTRAIT. ^M: c- With the » A. It 3 t BOHN'S EXTRA VOLUME. COUNT GRAMMONTS MEMOIRS OF THK COURT OF CHARLES THE SECOND, AND THE BOSCOBEL Nx\RRATIVES. BOHN'S EXTRA VOLUME. The publisher, doubting the propriety of including Count Grammont's Memoirs in his " Standard Library," thinks it expedient to print them (and at intervals perhaps other works), in a separate series, under the above title. The binding is of a different colour to mark the distinction. The Memoirs of Grammont, although universally admitted to be among the most witty and entertaining that have ever been written ; described by Gibbon as " a classic work, the delight of every man and woman of taste/' praised and edited by Sir Walter Scott ; printed in almost every lan- guage and every form ; and found in every good historical library ; are, it must be confessed, too much embued with the leaven of Charles the Second's days to suit the severer code of the present age. The book, however, is full of curious historical information, and must always be a standard- library work, under whatever denomination it may be pre- sented ; and the prudish reasons which should keep it inacces- sible to the great mass of readers, would be equally applicable to nearly all the writers of the Charles-the-Second period, including Pepys ; as well as to Ariosto, Fontaine, Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger, Ford, Byron, and even Shakspeare and Pope. But the publisher feels that the subscribers to his " Standard Library," after having been led on by such samples of his in- tentions as the works of Robert Hall, Roscoe, Schlegel, and Sismondi, with the prospect of others ot the same sterling character, have a right to count upon his not altering the tone of that series by including any thing which may not unhesitatingly be put into the hands of the most fastidious ; and they have some evidence of his wish to deserve such confidence by the course now pursued. ILL (SWYKMH MEMOIRS 'vi UAiVliU LONDON: HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. lS4f). WE LI, (SWYMHE. MEMOIRS OK THE COURT OF CHAliLES THE SECOND, BY COUNT GRAMMONT, WITH NUMKUOUS ADDITIOiNS AND ILLUSTRATIONS, AS EUITKU BY SIR WALTER SCOTT. also: TBS PSRSONAX. HISTORY OF CBAICX.Z:S, INCLUDIKG THE KING'S OWN ACCOUNT OF HIS ESCAPE AND PRESERVATION AFTER THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER. AS DICTATED TO PEPVS. AND THE BOSCOBSIi TRACTS, OR, CONTEMPORARY NARRATIVES OF HIS MAJESTY'S ADVENTURES, FROM THE MURDER OF HIS FATHER TO THE RESTOUaTION. CAREFULLY EDITED, WITH additional ILLUSTRATIONS. LONDON: HENRY G. BOIIN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 184(). Printed by J. & H. COX (Brothers), 7* & 75, Great Queen Street, Lincoln's-Inn Fields. UMr/::Fts!TY of California SANTA BARBARA COLLEGE LIBRARY Iv ADVERTISEMENT. The justly acquired popularity of the Memoirs of Count Gkammont, " which paint the chief characters of the court of Charles the Second with an easy and exquisite pencil,"" renders it unnecessary for the publisher to say any thing concerning their intrinsic value. The present edition contains the entire work as revised by Sir Walter Scott, in 1811, with all the notes; and, in addition, a considerable number of illustrative anec- dotes, gleaned from the most authentic sources. The Personal History of Chaules the Second has been compiled with care from all previous authori- ties, and presents, it is believed, in a small compass, the most complete picture of the merry monarch in disha- bille, yet given to the public. The King's Account of his Escape after the Battle of Worcester, as dictated by himself to Pepys, is one of the most romantic pieces of English history we possess. It was first published by Sir David Dairy mple, in 1766, as the King's, on the authority of the Pepys manuscripts^ preserved in Magdalen Col- lege, Cambridge. The minute and personal character of the narrative, its lively and careless style, and the col- lation of it with other accounts, concur in proving it VI ADVERTISEMENT. unquestionably genuine. The remarks subjoined are by Mr. Pepys, and include many corrections and additions subsequently obtained from the King, Father Huddle- stone, and Colonel Philips. These are inserted in the form of notes, and are respectively distinguished by the initial letters of K, F H, and Ph. The so-called " Boscobel Tracts'" are contempo- rary narratives, written in the quaint language of the time, by Thomas Blount, author of the " Fragmenta Antiquitatis" or Ancient Tenures of Land, and various other works. As they give curious variations and highly interesting additions to the King's own narrative, and are, to use the words of the Retrospective Review, " now among the most scarce and highly prized historical pamphlets of the seventeenth century," it has been thought desirable to conjoin them. The publisher permits himself to observe, that the matter now presented in a single volume, could not, in any otlier shape, be procured for twenty times its pre- sent price. H. G. B. York Street, June 1, 18i6. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OP ANTHONY HAMILTON, AUTHOR OF THE GRiMMONT MEMOIRS. A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF ANTHONY HAMILTON. Of Anthony Ilaniilton, the celebrated author of the Cram- mont* Memoirs, much cannot now be with certainty known. The accounts prefixed to the different editions of his works, down to the year 1805, are very imperfect ; in that year, a new, and, in general, far better edition than any of the pre- ceding ones, was published in Paris, to whicli a sketch of his life was also added ; but it contains rather just criticisms on his works, than any very novel or satisfactory anecdote con- cerning himself. It is not pretended here to gratify literary curiosity as fully as it ought to be, with regard to this singular and very ingenious man : at the distance of almost, ninety years (for so long is it since he died), this is scarcely possible ; some effort, however, may be made to communicate a few more particulars relative to him, than the public has hitherto, perhaps, been acquainted with. Anthony Hamilton was of the noble family of that name : Sir George Hamilton, his father, was a younger sou of James, * For uniformity's sake, the writer of this skctcl) has followed the Me- moirs in the spelling of this name ; but he thinks it necessary to observe, that it should be Gramont, not Grammont. B 2 4 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF Earl of Abercorn, a native of Scotland. His mother was daughter of Lord Thurles, and sister to James, the first duke of Ormond; his family and connexions, therefore, on the maternal side, were entirely Irish. He was, as well as his brothers and sisters, born in Ireland, it is generally said, about the year 1646 ; but there is some reason to imagine that it was three or four years earlier. The place of his birth, according to the best family accounts, was Roscrea, in the county of Tipperary, the usual residence of his father, when not engaged by military or public business.* It has been always said, that the family migrated to France when Anthony was an infant ; but this is not the fact : " Sir George Hamilton," says Carte, " would have accompanied his brother-in-law, the Marquis of Ormond, to France, in December, 1650 ; but as he was receiver-general in Ireland, he staid to pass his accounts, which he did, to the satisfaction of all parties, notwithstanding much clamour had been raised against him." When that busi- ness was settled, he, in the spring of 1651, took Lady Hamilton and all his family to France, and resided with Lord and Lady Ormond, near Caen, in Normandy,f in great poverty and distress, till the Marchioness of Ormond, a lady whose mind was as exalted as her birth, went over to England, and, after much solicitation, obtained two thousand pounds a year from her own and her husband's different estates in Ireland. This favour was granted her by Cromwell, who always professed * In September, 1C46, Owen O'Neale took Roscrea, and, as Carte says, " put man, woman, and child to the sword, except Sir George Hamilton's lady, sister to the Marquis of Ormond, and some few gentlewomen whom he kept prisoners." No family suffered more in those disastrous times than the house of Ormond. Lady Hamilton died in August, 1G80, as ap- pears from an interesting and affecting letter of her brother, the Duke of Ormond, dated Carrick, August 25th. He had lost his noble son, Lord Ossory, not three weeks before. t Hence possibly Voltaire's mistake, in stating that Hamilton V7as born at Caen, in his Catalogue des Ecrivains du Siecle de Louis XIV. ANTHONY HAMILTON. 5 iho greatest respect lor licr. The IMarcliioness rcs-ided in Irelaml, with the younger part of her family, from 1655 till after the Restoration ; while the Marquis of Ormond con- tinued for a considerable part of that period with his two sisters, Lady Clancarty and Lady Hamilton, at the Feullatines, in the Fauxbourg St. Jacques, in Paris. It appears from a letter of the marquis to Sir Robert South- well, that, although he himself was educated in the Protestant religion, not only his father and mother, but all his brothers and sisters, were bred, and always continued Roman Catholics. Sir George Hamilton also, according to Carte,* was a Roman Catholic ; Anthony, therefore, was bred in the religion of his family, and conscientiously adhered to it through life. He entered early into the army of Louis XIV., as did his brothers, George, Richard, and John, the former of whom introduced the company of English gcns-d'armes into France, in 1667, according to Le Pero Daniel, author of the History of the French Army, who adds the following short account of its establishment : Charles II., being restored to his throne, brought over to England several Catholic officers and soldiers, who had served abroad with him and his brother, the Duke of York, and incorporated them with his guards ; but the parlia- ment having obliged him to dismiss all officers who were Catholics, the king permitted George Hamilton to take such as were willing to accompany him to France, where Louis XIY. formed them into a company of gens-d'armes, and being highly pleased with them, became himself their captain, and made George Hamilton their captain-lieutenant.t Whether Anthony belonged to this corps, I know not ; but this is cer - * That historian states, that the king (Charles I.) deprived several papista of iheir military commissions, and, among others. Sir George Hamilton, who, notwithstanding, served him with loyalty and unvarying fidelity. t They were composed of English, Scotch, and Irish. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OP tain, that he distinguished himself particularly in his profession, and was advanced to considerable posts in the French ser- vice.* Anthony Hamilton's residence was now almost constantly in France. Some years previous to this, he had been much in England, and, towards the close of Charles II.'s reign, in Ireland, where so many of his connexions remained.f When James II. succeeded to the throne, the door being then opened to the Roman Catholics, he entered into the Irish army, where we find him, in 1686, a lieutenant-colonel in Sir Thomas New- comen's regiment. That he did not immediately hold a higher rank there, may, perhaps, be attributed to the recent accession of the king, his general absence from Ireland, the advanced age of his uncle, the Duke of Ormond, and, more than all, perhaps, to his Grace's early disapprobation of James's conduct in Ireland, which displayed itself more fully afterwards, espe- cially in the ecclesiastical promotions. Henry, Earl of Clarendon, son to the lord-chancellor, was at that time lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and appears, notwith- standing his general distrust and dislike of the Catholics, to have held Anthony Hamilton in much estimation : he speaks of his knowledge of, and constant attention to, the duties of his profession ; his probity, and the dependence that was to be placed on him, in preference to others of the same religious persuasion, and, in October, 1686, wrote to the Earl of Sun- derland respecting him, as follows : " I have only this one thing more to trouble your lordship with at present, concerning Colonel Anthony Hamilton, to get him a commission to com- * It is not to be forgotten, that, at this time, John Churchill, after- wards Duke of Marlborough, served under Marshal Turenne, in the same t Hamilton had three sisters : the Countess of Grammont ; another married to Matthew Forde, Esq., of the county of Wexford ; and another to Sir Donough O'Brien, aucestor to the present Sir Edward O'Brien — a branch of the Thomond family. ANTHONY HAMILTON 7 inand as colonel, though ho is but lieutenant-colonel to Sir Thomas Newcomen, in regard of the commands he has had abroad : and I am told it is often done in France, which makes mo hope it will not be counted an unreasonable request. I would likewise humbly recommend to make Colo- nel Anthony Hamilton a privy counsellor here."* Lord Clarendon's recommendations were ultimately successful : Hamilton was made a privy counsellor in Ireland, and had a pension of 200/. a year on the Irish establishment ; and was appointed governor of Limerick, in the room of Sir William King, notwithstanding he had strongly opposed the new-mo- delling of the army by the furious Tyrconnell. In the brief accounts which have been given of his life, it is said that he had a regiment of infantry ; but, though this is very probable, there is no mention whatever of his commanding a regiment, in the lists published of King James's army, which are sup- posed to be very accurate : he is indeed set down among the general officers. Lord Clarendon, in one of his letters to the lord -treasurer, states, "That the news of the day was, that Colonel Russell was to be lieutenant-colonel to the Duke of Ormond's regiment, and that Colonel Anthony Hamilton was to have Russell's regiment, and that Mr. Luttrell was to be lieu- tenant-colonel to Sir Thomas Newcomen, in the place of Anthony Hamilton. "t It is not known whether Anthony was present at the battle of the Boyne, or of Aughrim : his brother John was killed at the latter ; and Richard, who was a lieutenant-general, led on the cavalry with uncommon gallantry and spirit at the Boyne ; it is to be wished that his candour and integrity had equalled his courage ; but he acted with great duplicity ; and King William's contemptuous echoing back his word to him, when * Chapel-Izod, July 11, 1686. t Dublin Castle, October 23, 1686. 8 BIOGEAPIIICAL SKETCH OF he declared something on his honour, is well known.* He is frequently mentioned by Lord Clarendon, but by no means with the same approbation as his brother. After the total overthrow of James's afi^irs in Ireland, the two brothers finally quitted these kingdoms, and retired to France. Richard lived much with the Cardinal de Bouillon, who was the great pro- tector of the Irish in France, and kept (what must have been indeed highly consolatory to many an emigrant of condition) a magnificent table, which has been recorded in the most glow- ing and grateful terms, by that gay companion, and celebrated lover of good cheer, Philippe de Coulanges, who occasionally mentions the "amiable Richard Hamilton,"t as one of the Cardinal's particular intimates. Anthony, who was regarded particularly as a man of letters and elegant talents, resided almost entirely at St. Germain : solitary walks in the forest of that place occupied his leisure hours in the morning ; and poetical pursuits, or agreeable society, engaged the evening : but much of his time seems to have rolled heavily along ; his sister. Madam de Grammont, living more at court, or in Paris, than always suited his inclinations, or his convenience. His great resource at St. Germain was the family of the Duke of Berwick (son of James II.) : that nobleman appears to haA'e been amiable in private life, and his attachment to Hamilton was steady and sincere. The Duchess of Berwick was also his friend. It is necessary to mention this lady particularly, as well as her sisters : they were the daughters of Henry Bulkely, son to the first viscount of that name : their father had been master of the household to Charles : their mother was Lady Sophia Stewart, sister to the beautiful Duchess of Richmond, so conspicuous in the Grammont Memoirs. The sisters of the Duchess of Berwick were, Charlotte, married to * This anecdote has been erroneously recorded of Anthony, t So Coulanges calls him. ANTHONY HAMILTON. 9 Lord Clare;* Henrietta, ami Laura. Tlicy all occupy a considerable space in Hamilton'a corrcsiiondence, and the two last are the ladies so often addressed as the Mademoiselles B.; they are almost the constant subjects of Hamilton's verses ; and it is recorded, that he was a particular admirer of Hen- rietta Bulkely; but their union would have been that of hunger and thirst, for both were very poor and very illus- trious : their junction would, ofcour.se, have militated against every rule of common prudence. To the influence of this lady, particularly, Ave are indebted for one or two of Hamilton's agreeable novels : she had taste enough to laugh at the extra- vagant stories then so much in fashion, " plus Arabes qu'en Arabic "t as Hamilton says; and he, in compliance with her taste, and his own, soon put the fashionable tales to flight, by the publication of the Quatre Facard'ins, and, more especially, La Fleur d' Fjnne. Some of the introductory verses to these productions are written with peculiar ease and grace ; and are highly extolled, and even imitated, by Voltaire. La Harpe praises the Fleur d'Epine, as the work of an original genius : I do not think, however, that they are much relished in Eng- land, probably because very ill translated. Another of his literary productions was the novel called Le Bclier, which he wrote on the following occasion : Louis XIV. had presented to the Countess of Grammont (whom he highly esteemed) a remarkably elegant small country house in the park of Ver- sailles : this house became so fashionable a resort, and brought such constant visitors,:}; that the Count de Grammont said, in * (O'Brien) ancestor to Marshal Thomond. Lord Clare was killed at the battle of Ramillies. t They were wretched imitations of some of the Persian and Arabian tales, in which every thing was distorted, and rendered absurd and preposterous. X " Le bel air de la cour est d'aller a la jolie inaison, que le roi a donnee a la Comiesse de Gramont dansle Pare de Versailles. C'est tellement la mode, que c'est une honte de n'y avoir pas ete. La Comtesse de Gra- mont se porta trcs-bien ; il est certain que le roi la traite a merveilles. 10 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OP his usual way, lie would present the king with a list of all the persons he was obliged to entertain there, as more suited to his Majesty's purse than his own : the countess wished to change the name of the place from the vulgar appellation of Le MouUneaii, into that of PentaUe; and Hamilton, in his novel, wrote a history of a giant, an enchantment, and a prin- cess, to commemorate her resolution. It has, however, hap- pened, that the giant Moulineau has had the advantage, in the course of time ; for the estate, which is situated near Mendon, upon the Seine, retains its original and popular designation. About the year 1704, Hamilton turned his attention to coUectina: the memoirs of his brother-in-law, the Count de Grammont, as we may conjecture, from the epistle beginning " Honneur des rives eloignees "* being written towards the close of the above year : it is dated, or supposed to be so, from the banks of the Guronne. Among other authors whom Ha- milton at first proposes to Grammont, as capable of writing his life (though, on reflection, he thinks them not suited to it), is Boileau, whose genius he professes to admire ; but adds, that his muse has somewhat of malignity ; and that such a muse might caress with one hand, and satirize him with the other. This letter was sent by Hamilton to Boileau, who answered him with great politeness ; but, at the same time that he highly extolled the epistle to Grammont, he, very naturally, seemed anxious to eiface any impression which such a representation of his satiric vein might make on the Count's mind, and accordingly added a few complimentary verses to him : this letter is dated Paris, 8th February, 1705. About the same time another letter was written to Hamilton on the Paris, le 5 Aout, 1703." — Lettre de Madame de Coulanges a Madame de Grignan. * A translation of this epistle, which is a complete sketch of the Grammont ^Memoirs, is subjoined to this Biographical Sketch of the Author. AXTnoNY HAMILTON. 1 1 subject of the epistle to Grammont, by La Chapelle, who also seemed desirous that his life should be given to the public, but ■was much perplexed which of the most celebrated ancients to compare the Count to, Maecenas first presented himself to his imagination: absurdly enough, in my opinion; for there was not a trace of similitude between the two characters. This, how- ever, afforded him some opportunify, as he thought, of disco- vering a resemblance between Horace and Hamilton, in which he equally failed. Pctronius is then brought forward, as affording some comparison to the Count ; — a man of pleasure, giving up the day to sleep, and the night to entertainment ; but then, adds La Chapelle, it will be suggested, that such is the perpetual activity of the Count of Grammont's mind, he may be said to sleep neither night nor day ; and if Petronius died, the Count seem? determined never to die at all. (lie was at this time about eighty-five years of age.) It may well be supposed that all this, though now perfectly vapid and unin- teresting, was extremely flattering to Grammont ; and the result was, that he very much wished to have his life, or part of it, at least, given to the public. ILimilton, who had been so long connected with him, and with whose agreeable talents he was now so familiarized, was, on every account, singled out by him as the person who could best introduce him historically to the public. It is ridiculous to mention Grammont as the author of his own memoirs : his excellence, as a man of wit, was entirely limited to conversation. Bussy Rabutin, who knew him perfectly, states, that he wrote almost worse than any oue. If this was said, and very truly, of him in his early days, it can hardly be imagined that he would, when between eighty and ninety years of age, commence a regular, and in point of style, most finished composition. Besides, inde- pendent of every thing else, what man would so outrage all decorum, as to call himself the admiration of the age ? for so is 12 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OP Grammont extolled in the Memoirs, with a variety of other encomiastic expressions ; although, perhaps, such A^anity has not been without example. Hamilton, it is true, says that he acts as Grammont's secretary, and only holds the pen, whilst the Count dictates to him such particulars of his life as were the most singular, and least known. This is said with great modesty, and, as to part of the work, perhaps, with great truth : it requires, however, some explanation. — Grammont was more than twenty years older than Hamilton ; conse- quently, the earlier part of his life could only have been known, or was best known, to the latter, from repeated con- versations, and the long intimacy which subsisted between them. Whether Grammont formally dictated the events of his younger days, or not, is of little consequence : from his general character, it is probable that he did not. However, the whole account of such adventures as he was engaged in, from his leaving home to his interview with Cardinal Maza- rine (excepting the character of Monsieur de Senantes, and Matta, who was well known to Hamilton), the relation of the siege of Lerida, the description of Gregorio Brice, and the inimitable discovery of his own magnificent suit of clothes on the ridiculous bridegroom at Abbeville ; all such particulars must have been again and again repeated to Hamilton by Grammont, and may therefore be fairly grounded on the Count's authority. The characters of the court of Charles II., and its history, are to be ascribed to Hamilton : from his resi- dence, at various times, in the court of London, his connection with the Ormond family, not to mention others, he must have been well acquainted with them. Lady Chesterfield, who may be regarded almost as the heroine of the work, was his cousm-german.* But, although the history altogether was * She was Dornatthe castle of Kilkenny, July, 1640, as appears from Carte's life of her father, the Duke of Ormond. ANTUONY HAMILTON. 13 written by Hamilton, it may not perhaps be knuwn to every reader that Grammont himself sold the manuscript for fifteen hundred livres ; and when it was brought to Fontenelle, then censor of the press, he refused to license it, from respect to the character of the count, which, he thought, was represented as that of a gambler, and an unprincipled one too. In fact, Grammont, like many an old gentleman, seems to have recol- lected the gaieties of his youth with more complaisance than was necessary, and has drawn them in pretty strong colours, in that part of the work which is more particularly his own. He laughed at poor Fontcnelle's scruples, and complained to the chancellor, who forced the censor to acquiesce : the license was granted, and the count put the whole of the money, or the best part of it, in his pocket, though he acknowledged the work to be Hamilton's. This is exactly correspondent to his general character : when money was his object, he had little, or rather no delicacy. The History of Grammont may be considered as an unique ; there is nothing like it in any language. For drollery, know- ledge of the world, various satire, general utility, united with great vivacity of composition, Gil Bias is unrivalled : but, as a merely agreeable book, the ^Icmoirs of Grammont perhaps deserve that character more than any which was ever written ; it is pleasantry throughout, and pleasantry of the best sort, unforced, graceful, and engaging. Some French critic has justly observed, that, if any book were to be selected, as afford- ing the truest specimen of perfect French gaiety, the Memoirs of Grammont would be selected in preference to all others. This has a Frenchman said of the work of a foreigner ; but that foreigner possessed much genius, hail lived from his youth, not only in the best society of France, but with the most sin- gular and agreeable man that France couUl produce. Still, 14 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF however, though Graramont and Hamilton were of dispositions very different, the latter must have possessed talents peculiarly brilliant, and admirably adapted to coincide with, and display those of his brother-in-law to the utmost advantage. Gibbon extols the " ease and purity of Hamilton's inimitable style ; " and in this he is supported by A^oltaire, although he adds the censure, that the Grammont Memoirs are, in point of materials, the most trifling ; he might also in truth have said, the most improper. The manners of the court of Charles II. were, to the utmost, profligate and abandoned ; yet in what colours have they been drawn by Hamilton ? The elegance of his pencil has rendered them more seductive and dangerous, than if it had more faithfully copied the originals. From such a mingled mass of grossness of language, and of conduct, one would have turned away with disgust and abhorrence ; but Hamilton was, to use the words of his admirer. Lord Orford, " superior to the indelicacy of the court," whose vices he has so agreeably depicted ; and that superiority has sheltered such vices from more than half the oblivion which would now have for ever concealed them. The Count de Grammont died in 1707. Some years after the publication of his Memoirs, Hamilton was engaged in a very different work : he translated Pope's Essay on Criticism into French, and, as it should seem, so much to that great poet's satisfaction, that he wrote a very polite letter of thanks to him, which is inserted in Pope's Corresjxjndence. Hamil- ton's Essay was, I believe, never printed, though Pope warmly requested to have that permission : the reign of Louis XIV. ] had now ceased ; and, for several years before his death, the character of the old court of that prince had ceased also : pro- fligacy and gaiety had given way to devotion and austerity. Of Hamilton's friends and literary acquaintance iew were left ; ANTHONY nAMILTON. 15 the Duke of Berwick was employed in the field, or at Ver- sailles : some of the ladies, however, continued at St. Germain : and in their society, particularly that of his niece, the Countess of Stafibrd (in whose name he carried on a lively correspond- ence with Lady Mary Wortlcy ^Montague), ho passed much of his time. He occasionally indulged in poetical compositions. of a style suited to his age and character ; and when he was past seventy, he wrote that excellent copy of verses, " Sur rUsage de la Vie dans la Vieillesse ; " which, for grace of style, justness, and purity of sentiment, does honour to his memory. Hamilton died at St. Germain, in April, 1720, aged ahout 74. His death was pious and resigned. From his poem, en- titled " Reflections,"* he appears, like some other authors, to have turned his mind, in old age, entirely to those objects of sacred regard, which, sooner or later, must engage the atten- tion of every rational mind. To poetry he bids an eternal adieu, in language which breathes no diminution of genius, at the moment that he for ever recedes from the poetical character. But he aspired to a better. The following lines are interest- ing, for they evidently allude to his own situation ; and, may every one, who, from a well-directed, or mistaken, but pure and generous zeal, is, through the course of a long life, assailed * Voltaire, upon slight evidence, had imputed to him, at an earlier period, sentiments of irreligion similar to his own : — Aupres d'eux le vif Hamilton, Toujours arme d'un trait qui blesse, Medisoit de I'humaine espcce, Et menie d'un peu mieux, dit-on. But whether Voltaire had any better foundation for insinuating this charge than the libertine tone of Hamilton's earlier works, joined to his own wish to hold up a man of genius as a partisan of his own opinions, must rernaiu doubtful ; while it is certain that Hamilton, in his latter years, sincerely followed the Christian religion. 16 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OP by the temptations of poverty, find that consolation in an inno- cence of manners, which Hamilton so well invoked, and, it is to be hoped, not altogether in vain : Fille du ciel, pure Innocence ! Asile centre tous nos maux, Vrai centre di' parfait repos ! Heureux celui, dont la Constance, Vous conservant dans I'abondance, Ne vous perd point, dans les travaux D'une longue, et triste indigence ! Whatever were Hamilton's errors, his general character was respectable. He has been represented as grave, and even dull, in society ; the very reverse, in short, of what he appears in his Memoirs : but this is probably exaggerated. Unquestion- ably he had not the unequalled vivacity of the Count de Grammont in conversation ; as Grammont was, on the other hand, inferior, in all respects, to Hamilton, when the pen was in his hand ; the latter was, however, though reserved in a large society, particularly agreeable in a more select one- Some of his letters remain, in which he alludes to his want of that facility at impromptu which gave such brilliancy to the conversation of some of his brother wits and contemporaries. But, while we admit the truth of this, let it be remembered at the same time, that when he wrote this, he was by no means young ; that he criticized his own defects with severity ; that he was poor, and living in a court which itself subsisted on the alms of another. Amidst such circumstances, extemporary gaiety cannot always be found. I can suppose, that the Duchess of Maine, who laid claim to the character of a patroness of wit, and, like many who assert such claims, was very troublesome, very self-sufficient, and yery exi^eante, might not always have found that general superiority, or even transient lustre, which ANTHONY HAMILTON. IT she expected ia Hamilton's society: yet, considering the great diflerenco of their ago and situation, this circumstance will not greatly impeach his talents for conversation. But the work of real genius must for ever remain ; and of Hamilton's genius, the Grammont Memoirs will always continue a hcau- teous and graceful monument. To that monument may also be added, the candour, integrity, and unassuming virtues of the amiable author. EPISTLE TO THE COUNT BE GRAMMONT, BY ANTHONY HAMILTON, In his own and his Brother's Name* O ! Thou, the glory of the shore, Where Corisanda f saw the day, The blessed abode of Menodore ; Thou, whom the fates have doom'd to stray Far from that pleasant shore away, On which the sun, at parting, smiles. Ere, gliding o'er the Pyrenees, Spain's tawny visages he sees. And sinks behind the happy isles ; Thou, who of mighty monarch's court So long hast shone unerring star, Unmatch'd in earnest or in sport. In love, in frolic, and in war 1 To you, Sir, this invocation must needs be addressed ; for whom else could it suit ? But you may be puzzled even to guess who invokes you, since you have heard nothing of us for an age, and since so long an absence may have utterly banished us from your recollection. Yet we venture to flatter ourselves it may be otherwise. * It is dated from Grammont's villa of Semeac, upon the banks of the Garonne, where it would seem Philibert and Anthony Hamilton were then residing. t Corisande and Menadaure were both ancestresses of the Count de Grammont, and celebrated for beauty. EPISTLE TO THE COINT DE OUAMMONT. 19 For who was e'er forgot by thee ? Witness, at Lerida, Don Brice,* And Barcelona's lady nice, Donna Ragueza, fair and free ; Witness, too, Boniface at Breda, And Catalonia and Gasconne, From Bourdeaux walls to far Bayonne, From Perpignaa to Pueycreda, And we your friends of fair Garonne. Even in these distant and peaceful regions, we hear, by daily report, that you are more agreeable, more unequalled, and more marvellous than ever. Our country neighbours, great news-mongers, apprized by their correspondents of the lively sallies with which you surprise the court, often ask us if you are not the grandson of that famous Chevalier de Grara- mont, of whom such wonders are recorded in the History of the Civil Wars ? Indignant that your identity should be disputed in a country where your name is so well known, we had formed a plan of giving some faint sketch of your merits and history. But who were we, that we should attempt the task ? "With talents naturally but indifferent, and now rusted by long inter- ruption of all intercourse with the court, how were it possible for us to display taste and i)olitcness, excelling all that is to be found elsewhere, and which yet must be attributes of those fit to make you their theme ? Can mediocrity avail, To follow forth such high emprlze ? In vain our zeal to please you tries, Where noblest talents well might fail : Where loftiest bards might yield the pen, And own 'twere rash to dare, 'Tis meet that country gentlemen Be silent in despair. * Don Brice is celebrated in the Memoirs, but Donna Ragueza does lot appear there. c 2 20 EPISTLE TO THE We therefore limited our task to registering all the remark- able particulars of your life which our memory could supply, in order to communicate those materials to the most skilful writers of the metropolis. But the choice embarrassed us. Sometimes we thought of addressing our Memoirs to the Aca- demy, persuaded that as you had formerly sustained a logical thesis,* you must know enough of the art to qualify you for being received a member of that illustrious body, and praised from head to foot upon the day of admission. Sometimes, again, we thought, that, as, to all appearance, no one will survive to pronounce your eulogium when you are no more, it ought to be delivered in the way of anticipation, by the reverend Father Massillon or De la Rue. But we considered that the first of these expedients did not suit your rank, and that, as to the second, it would be against all form to swathe you up while alive in the tropes of a funeral sermon. The celebrated Boileau next occurred to us, and we believed at first he was the very person we wanted ; but a moment's reflection satis- fied us that he would not answer our purpose. Sovereign of wit, he sits alone, And joys him in his glory won ; Or if, in history to live, The first of monarchs' feats he give, Attentive Phoebus guides his hand, And Memory's daughters round him stand ; He might consign, and only he, Thy fame to immortality. Yet, vixen still, his muse would mix Her playful but malicious tricks. Which friendship scarce might smother. So gambols the ambiguous cat, Deals with one paw a velvet pat. And scratches you with t'other. * I presume, when he was educated for the chuich. COUNT DE GUAMMONT. 21 The next expedient which occurred to us was, to have yrmr portrait displayed at full length in that niiscellauy which lately gave us such an excellent letter of the illustrious chief of your house. Here is the direction we obtained for that pui-pose : Not far from that superb abode Where Paris bids her monarchs dwell, Retiring from the Louvre's road, The office opes its fruitful cell. In choice of authors nothing nice. To every work, of every price, However rhymed, however writ, Especially to folks of wit, When by rare chance on such they hit. From thence each month, in gallant quire, Flit sonneteers in tuneful salhes. All tender heroes of their alleys. By verse familiar who aspire To seize the honour'd name of poet. Some sci'eam, on mistuned pipes and whistles. Pastorals and amorous epistles ; Some, twining worthless wreath, bestow it On bards and warriors of their own, In camp and chronicle unknown. Here, never rare, though ever new. Riddle, in veil fantastic screening. Presents, in his mysterious masque, A useless, yet laborious task, To loungers who have nought to do. But puzzle out his senseless meaning. 'Tis here, too, that, in transports old. New elegies are monthly moaning ; Here, too, the dead their lists unfold. Telling of heirs and widows groaning ; Telling what sums were left to glad them, And here in copper- plate they shine. Shewing their features, rank, and line. And all their arms, and whence they had them. We soon saw it would be impossible to crowd you, with 22 EPISTLE TO THE propriety, into so miscellaneous a miscellany ; and these various difficulties at lenn^th reconciled us to our original inten- tion of attempting the adventure ourselves, despite of our insuf- ficiency, and of calling to our assistance tvs^o persons whom we have not the honour to know, but some of whose compositions have reached us. In order to propitiate them by some civili- ties, one of us (lie who wears at his ear that pearl, which, you used to say, his mother had hung there out of deA'otion), began to invoke them, as you shall hear O ! Thou, of whom the easy strain Enchanted by its happy sway, Sometimes the margin of the Seine, Sometimes the fair and fertile plain, Where winds the Maine her lingering way ; Whether the light and classic lay Lie at the feet of fair Climene ; Or if, La Fare, thou rather chuse The mood of the theatric muse. And raise again, the sta^e to tread. Renowned Greeks and Romans dead ; Attend ! — And thou, too, lend thine aid, Chaulieu ! on whom, in raptur'd hour, Phoebus breath' d energy and power ; Come both, and each a stanza place. The structure that we raise to grace ; To gild our heavy labours o'er. Your aid and influence we implore. The invocation was scarce fairly written out, when we found the theatric muse a little misplaced, as neither of tiie gentlemen invoked appeared to have written any thing falling under her department. This reflection embarrassed us ; and we were meditating what turn should be given to the passage, when behold ! there appeared at once, in the midst of the room, a form that surprised without alarming us : — it was COUNT DE GRAMMONT. 23 that of your philosopher, the inimitable St. Evremont.* None of the tumult which usually announces the arrival of ghosts of consequence preceded this ajjparition. The sky was clear and still o'er head, No earthquake shook the regions under, No subterraneous murmur dread, And not a single clap of thunder. He was not clothed in rags, or tatter'd, Like that same grim and grisly spectre, Who, ere Fhilippi's contest clatter'd, The dauntless Brutus came to hector : Nor was he clad like ghost of Laius, ^^^l0, when against his son he pled. Nor worse nor better wardrobe had, Than scanty mantle of Emaeus : Nor did his limbs a shroud encumber, Like that wluch vulgar sprites enfold, WTien, gliding from their ghostly hold. They haunt our couch, and scare our slumber. By all this we saw the ghost's intention was not to frighten us. He was dressed exactly as when we had first the pleasure of his acquaintance in London. He had the same air of mirth, sharpened and chastened by satirical expression, and even the same dress, which undoubtedly he had preserved for this visit. Lest you doubt it, His ancient studying-cap he wore. Well tann'd, of good Morocco hide ;f The eternal double loop before. That lasted till its master died : * With whom, as appears from the Memoirs, the Count, while residing in London, maintained the closest intimacy. St. Evremont was de- lighted with his wit, vivacity, and latitude of principle : he called him his hero ; wrote verses in his praise ; in short, took as warm an interest in him as an Epicurean philosopher can do in any one but himself, t One of St. Evremont's peculiarities was, that instead of a wig. the universal dress of the time, he chose to wear his own grey hair, covered with the leathern cap described in the text. 24 EPISTLE TO THE In fine, the self-same equipage, As when, with lovely Mazarine, StiU boasting of the name of Sage, He drowned, in floods of generous wine, The dulness and the frost of age. And daily paid the homage due. To charms that seem'd for ever new. As he arrived un-announced, he placed himself between us without ceremony, but could not forbear smiling at the respect with which we withdrew our chairs, under pretence of not crowding him. I had always heard that it was necessary to question folks of the other world, in order to engage them in conversation ; but he soon shewed us the contrary ; for, casting his eyes on the paper which we had left on the table, — " I approve," said he, " of your plan, and I come to give you some advice for the execution ; but I cannot comprehend the choice you have made of these two gentlemen as assistants. I admit, it is impossible to write more beautifully than they both do ; but do you not see that they write nothing but by starts, and that their subjects are as extraordinary as their caprice ? Love-lorn and gouty, one soft swain Rebels, amid his rhymes profane, Against specific water-gruel ; Or cherups, in his ill-timed lay. The joys of freedom and tokay. When Celimena's false or cruel : The other, in his lovely strain. Fresh from the font of Hippocrene, Rich in the charms of sound and sense, Throws all his eloquence away, And vaunts, the live-long lingering day, The languid bUss of indolence. LIJ,!, '^ Give up thoughts of them, if you please ; for though you have invoked them, they won't come the sooner to your suc- cour : Arrange, as well as you can, the materials you had COUNT DE ORAMMONT. 25 collected SSn- others, aud never mind the order of time Oi events : I would advise you, on the contrary, to chuso the latter years of your hero for your principal subject : His earlier adventures are too remote to be altogether so interesting in the present day. Make some short and light observations on the resolu- tion he has formed of never dying, and upon the power he seems to possess of carrying it into execution.* That art by which his life he has warded, And death so often has retarded, 'Tis strange to me, The world's envy Has ne'er with jaundiced eye regarded : But mid all anecdotes he tells Of warriors, statesmen, and of belles, With whom he fought, intrigued, and slept, Tliat rare and precious mystery, His art of immortality, Is the sole secret he has kept. " Do not embarrass your brains in seeking ornaments, or turns of eloquence to paint his cliaracter : That would resem- ble strained panegyric ; and a faithful portrait will be his best praise. Take care how you attempt to report his stories, or Ions mots : The subject is too great for you.f Try only, in * The Count de Grammont, in his old age, recovered, contrary to the expectation of his physicians, and of all the world, from one or two dan- gerous illnesses, which led him often to say, in his lively manner, that he had formed a resolution never to die. This declaration is the subject of much raillery through the whole epistle. t Bussi Rabutin assures us, that much of the merit of Grammont's Ions mots consisted in his peculiar mode of delivering them, although his reputation as a wit was universally established. Few of those which have been preserved are susceptible of translation ; but the following may be taken as a specimen : One day when Charles II. dined in state, he made Grammont remark, that he was served upon the knee ; a mark of respect not common at other courts. " I thank your Majesty for the explanation," answered Grammont : "I thought they were begging pardon for giving you so bad a dinner." — Louis XIV., playing at tric-trac, disputed a throw witii 26 EPISTLE TO THE relating his adventures, to colour over his failings, and give relief to his merits. 'Twasthus, by easy route of yore, ]My hero to the skies I bore.* For your part, sketch how beauties tender, Did to his vows in crowds surrender : Shew him forth-following the banners Of one who match' d the goddess -born : Shew how in peace his active manners Held dull repose in hate and scorn : Shew how at court he made a figure, Taught lessons to the best intriguer, his opponent : The by-standers were appealed to, and could not decide the cause. It was referred to Grammont, who, from the further end of the gallery, declared against the king. " But you have not heard the case," said Louis. "Ah, Sire," replied the Count, "if your majesty had but a shadow of right, would these gentlemen have failed to decide in vour favour?" * St. Evremont, whose attachment to Grammont amounted to en- thusiasm, composed the following epitaph upon him, made, however, long before the Count's death, in which he touches many of the topics which he here is supposed to recommend to Hamilton. Here lies the Count de Grammont, stranger ! Old Evremont's eternal theme : He who shared Conde's every danger. May envy from the bravest claim. Wouldst know his art in courtly life ? It match'd his courage in the strife. "Wouldst ask his merit with the fair .' — Who ever liv'd his equal there ? His wit to scandal never stooping His mirth ne'er to buifoon'ry drooping : Keeping his character's marked plan. As spouse, sire, gallant, and old man. But went he to confession duly .' At matins, mass, and vespers steady ? Fervent in prayer ? — to teU you truly. He left these cares to my good lady. We may once more see a Turenne ; Conde himself may have a double ; But to make Grammont o'er again. Would cost dame nature too much trouble. COUNT DE GRAMMONT. 27 Till, without fawning, like his neighbours. His prompt address foil'd all their labours. Canvas and colours change once more, And paint him forth in various light : The scourge of coxcomb and of bore ; Live record of lampoons in score, And chronicle of love and fight ; Redoubted for his plots so rare, By every happy swain and fair ; Driver of rivals to despair ; Sworn enemy to all long speeches ; Lively and brilliant, frank and free ; Author of many a repartee : Remember, over all, that he Was most renowned for storming breaches. Forget not the white charger's prance, Cn which a daring boast sustaining, He came before a prince of France, Victorious in Alsace campaigning.* Tell too by what enchanting art, Or of the head, or of the heart. If skill or courage gain'd his aim ; When to Saint Alban's foul disgrace, Despite his colleague's grave grimace, And a fair nymph's seducing face. He carried off gay Buckingham.f Speak all these feats, and simply speak, — To soar too high were forward freak, — To keep Parnassus' skirts discreetest ; For 'tis not on the very peak, That middling voices sound the sweetest. * Grammont had promised to the Dauphin, then commanding the army in Alsace, that he would join him before the end of the campaign, mounted on a white horse. t Grammont is supposed to have had no small share in determining the Duke of Buckingham, then Charles the Second's favourite minister, to break the triple alliance ; for which purpose he went to France with the Count, in spite of all that the other English ministers, and even hi:s mistress, the celebrated Countess of Shrewsbury, could do to prevent him. 28 EPISTLE TO THE Each tale in easy language dress, With natural expression closing ; Let every rhyme fall in express ; Avoid poetical excess, And shun low miserable prosing : Doat not on modish style, I pray. Nor yet condemn it with rude passion ; There is a place near the Marais, Where mimicry of antique lay Seems to be creeping into fashion. This new and much-admired way, Of using Gothic words and spelling, Costs but the price of Rabelais, Or Ronsard's sonnets, to excel in. With half a dozen ekes and ayes, Or some such antiquated phrase, At small expense you'U lightly hit On this new strain of ancient wit. "We assured the spirit we would try to profit by this last advice, but that his caution against falling into the languor of a prosing narration appeared to us more difficult to follow. " Once for all," said he, " do your best ; folks that write for the Count de Grammont have a right to reckon on some indulgence. At any rate, you are only known through him, and, apparently, what you are about will not increase the public curiosity on your own account. I must end my visit, he continued, " and by my parting wishes convince my hero that I continue to interest myself in his behalf." Still may his wit's unceasing charms Blaze forth, his numerous days adorning ; May he renounce the din of arms. And sleep some longer of a morning : Still be it upon false alarms, That chaplains come to lecture o'er him ;* * De Grammont having fallen seriously ill, at the age of seventy-five, the king, who knew his free sentiments in reUgious matters, sent Dangeau COUNT DE GRAMMONT. 20 Still prematurely, as before, That all the doctors give him o'er, And king and court are weeping for him May such repeated feats convince The king he lives but to attend him ; And may he, like a grateful prince, Avail him of the hint they lend him ; Live long as Grammont's age, and longer, Then learn his art still to grow younger. Here ceas'd the ghostly Norman sage, A clerk whom we as well as you rate ; The choicest spirit of his age. And heretofore your only curate : Though not a wit, you see, his spectre Doth, like a buried parson's, lecture. Then off he glided to the band Of feal friends that hope to greet you. But long may on the margin stand. Of sable StjTC, before they meet you. No need upon that theme to dwell, Since none but you the cause can tell ; Yet, if, when some half century more. In health and glee, has glided o'er, You find you, maugre all your strength, Stretch'd out in woeful state at length, And forc'd to Erebus to troop, Tnere shall you find the joyous group, Carousing on the Stygian border ! Waiting, with hollo and with whoop, To dub you brother of their order : There shall you find Dan Benserade, Doughty Chapelle and Sarazine, Voiture and Chaplain, gallants fine. And he who ballad never made. Nor rhymed without a flask of wine. to give him ghostly advice. The Count, finding his errand, turned to his wife, and cried out, " Countess, if you don't look to it, Dangeau will cheat you of my conversion." 30 KPISTLE TO THE COUNT DE GRAMMOM. Adieu, Sir Count, the world around Who roam'd in quest of love and battle. Of whose high merits fame did tattle, As sturdy tiller, knight renown'd. Before the warfare of the Fronde, Should you again review Gironde, Travelling in coach, by journeys slow, You'll right hand mark a sweet chateau, Which has few ornaments to shew, But deep, clear streams, that moat the spot, 'Tis there we dwell, — forget us not ! Think of us then, pray, Sir, if, by chance, you should take a fancy to revisit your fair mansion of Semeac. In the mean while, permit us to finish this long letter ; we have endea- voured in vain to make something of it, by varying our language and style — ^you see how our best efforts fall below our subject. To succeed, it would be necessary that he whom our fictions conjured up to our assistance were actually among the living. But, alas ! No more shall Evremont incite us. That chronicler whom none surpasses, Whether his grave or gay delight us ; That favourite of divine Parnassus Can find no ford in dark Cocytus : From that sad river's fatal bourne, Alone De Grammont can return. MEMOIRS OP COUNT GRAMMONT. MEMOIES OF COUNT GUAM MO N'T. CHAPTER I. As those who read only for amusement are, in my opinion, more worthy of attention than those who open a book merely to find fault, to the former I address myself, and for their entertainment commit the following pages to press, without beinff in the least concerned about the severe criticisms of the latter. I farther declare, that the order of time and disposi- tion of the facts, which give more trouble to the writer than pleasure to the reader, shall not much embarrass me in these memoirs. It being my design to convey a just idea of my hero, those circumstances which most tend to illustrate and distin."-uish his character, shall find a place in these fragments just as thoy present themselves to my imagination, without paying any particular attention to their arrangement. For, ■ifter all, what does it signify where the portrait is begun, provided the assemblage of the parts form a whole which ix;rfectly expresses the original ? The celebrated Plutarch, who treats his heroes as he does his readers, commences the life of the one just as he thinks fit, and diverts the attention of the other with digressions into auticpiity, or agreeable passages of literature, which frci^ueutly have no reference to D 34 MEMOIRS OF tlie subject for instance, he tells us, that Demetrius Poliorcetes was far from being so tall as his father, Antigo- nus ; and afterwards, that his reputed father, Antigonus, was only his uncle ; but this is not until he has begun his life, with a short account of his death, his various exploits, his good and bad qualities ; and at last, out of compassion to his failings, brings forward a comparison between him and the unfortunate ]\Iark Antony. In the life of Numa Pompilius, he begins by a dissertation upon his preceptor Pythagoras ; and, as if he thought the reader would be anxious to know whether it was the ancient philosopher, or one of the same name, who, after being victorious at the Olympic games, went full speed into Italy to teach Numa philosophy, and instruct him in the arts of government, he gives himself much trouble to explain this difficulty, and, after all, leaves it undetermined. "What I have said upon this subject is not meant to reflect upon this historian, to whom.^ of all the ancients, we are most obliged ; it is only intended to authorize the manner in which I have treated a life far more extraordinary than any of those he has transmitted to us. It is my part to describe a man, whose inimitable character casts a veil over those faults which I shall neither palliate nor disguise ; a man, distinguished by a mixture of virtues and vices so closely linked together, as iu appearance to form a necessary depend- ence, glowing with the greatest beauty when united, shining with the brightest lustre when opposed. It is this indefinable brilliancy, which, in war, in love, in gaming, and in the various stages of a long life, has rendered the Count de Grammont the admiration of his age, and the delight of every country wherein he has displayed his engag- ing wit, dispensed his generosity and magnificence, or practised his inconstancy : it is owing to this that the sallies COUNT GKAMMO.NT. ' 85 of a spriglitly imagination have produced those admirable bon mots, which have been with universal applause transmitted to posterity. It is owing to this, that he preserved his judg- ment free and unembarrassed in the most trying situations, and enjoyed an uncommon presence of mind and facetious- ness of temper in the most imminent dangers of war. I shall not attempt to draw his portrait : his person has been de- scribed by Bussi and St. Evremond,' authors more entertaining than faithful. The former has represented the Chevalier Grammout as artful, fickle, and even somewhat treacherous, in his amours, and indefatigable and cruel in his jealousies. St. Evremond has used other colours to express the genius and describe the general manners of the Count ; whilst both, in their different pictures, have done greater honour to them- selves than justice to their hero. It is, therefore, to the Count we must listen, in the agreeable relation of the sieges and battles wherein he distinguished himself under another hero ; and it is on him we must rely for the truth of passages the least glorious of his life, and for the sincerity with which he relates his address, vivacity, frauds, and the various stratagems he practised either in love or gaming. These express his true character, and to himself WQ owe these memoirs, since I only hold the pen, while he directs it to the most remarkable and secret passages of his life. U 2 MEMOIRS OP CHAPTER II. In those days affairs were not managed in France as at present : Louis XIII.^ then sat upon the throne, but the Car- dinal de Richlieu^ governed the kingdom ; great men com- manded little armies, and little armies did great things : the fortune of great men depended solely upon ministerial favour, and blind devotion to the will of the minister was the only sure method of advancement. Vast designs were then laying in the heart of neighbouring states the foundation of that formidable greatness to which France has now risen : the I^olice was somewhat neglected ; the highways were impas- sable by day, and the streets by night ; but robberies were committed elsewhere with greater impunity. Young men, on their first entrance into the world, took what course they thought proper: whoever would, was a Chevalier, and who- ever could, an Abbe, — I mean a beneficed Abbe : dress made no distinction between them ; and, I believe, the Chevalier Grammont was both the one and the other at the siege of Trino.'* This was his first campaign, and here he displayed those attractive graces which so favourably prepossess, and require neither friends nor recommendations in any company to pro- cure a favourable reception. The siege was already formed when he arrived, which saved him some needless risks ; for a volunteer cannot rest at ease, until he has stood the first fire : he went therefore to reconnoitre the generals, having no occa- sion to reconnoitre the place. Prince Thomas^ commanded the army ; and as the post of lieutenant-general was not then COUNT CRAMMONT. known,^ Du Plcssis Pralin^ and tlio famous Viscount Turcnne** were his major-generals. Fortified places were treated with some respect, before a power which nothing can withstand had found means to destroy them by dreadful showers of bombs, and by destructive batteries of hundreds of pieces of cannon. Before tliese furious storms which drive governors under ground and reduce their garrisons to powder, repeated sallies bravely repulsed, and vigorous attacks nobly sustained, signalized both the art of the besiegers and the courage of the besieged ; consequently sieges were of some length, and young men had an opportunity of gaining some knowledge. Many brave actions were performed on each side during the siege of Trino ; a great deal of fatigue was endured, and con- siderable losses sustained ; but fatigue was no more considered, hardships were no more felt in the trenches, gravity was at an end with the generals, and the troops were no longer dis- pirited after the arrival of the Chevalier Grammont. Plea- sure was his pursuit, and he made it universal. Among the oflicers in the array, as in all other places, there are men of real merit, or pretenders to it. The latter endeavoured to imitate the Chevalier Grammont in his most shining qualities, but without success; the former admired tiis talents and courted his friendship. Of this number was 3Iatta -.^ he was agreeable in his person, but still more by the natural turn of his wit ; he was plain and simple in his manners, but endued with a quick discernment and refined delicacy, and full of candour and integrity in all his actions. The Chevalier Grammont was not long in discovering his amiable qualities ; an acquaintance was soon formed, and was succeeded by the strictest intimacy. Matta insisted that the Chevalier should take up his quarters with him ; to which he only consented, on condition of equally contributing to the expense. i\s they were both 38 MEMOIRS OF libera] and magnificent, at tteir common cost they gave the best- designed and most luxurious entertainments that had ever yet been seen. Play was wonderfully productive at first, and the Chevalier restored by a hundred different ways that which he obtained only by one. The generals, being entertained by turns, admired their magnificence, and were dissatisfied with their own officers for not keeping such good tables and attendance. The Chevalier had the talent of set- ting off" the most indifferent things to advantage ; and his wit was so generally acknowledged, that it was a kind of disgrace not to submit to his taste. To him Matta resigned the care of furnishing the table and doing its honours ; and, charmed with the general applause, persuaded himself that nothing could be more honourable than their way of living, and nothing more easy than to continue it ; but he soon perceived that the greatest prosperity is not the most last- ing. Good living, bad economy, dishonest servants, and ill- luck, all uniting together to disconcert their house -keeping, their table v/as going to be gradually laid aside, when the Chevalier's genius, fertile in resources, undertook to support his former credit by the following expedient. They had never yet conferred about tlie state of their finances, although the steward had acquainted each separately, that he must either receive money to continue the expenses, or gi\^e in his accounts. One day, when the Chevalier came home sooner than usual, he found Matta fast asleep in an easy chair, and, being unwilling to disturb his rest, be began mus- ing on his project. Matta awoke without his perceiving it ; and having, for a short time, observed the deep contemplation he seemed involved in, and the profound silence between two persons, who had never held their tongues for a moment when together before, he broke it by a sudden fit of laughter, which increased in proportion as the other stared at him. " A merry COUNT ORAMMONT. 39 way of waking, and ludicrous enough," said tlie Clicvnlier ; " What is the matter, and whom do you laugh at ?" " Faith, Chevalier," said ]\Iatta, " I am laughing at a dream I haut his gallantry to the test. But Matta proceeded upon a wrong plan ; he had conceived such an aversion for her husband, that he could not prevail uj)on himself to make the smallest advance towards his good graces. He was given to understand, that he ought to begin by endeavouring to lull the dragon to sleep, before he could gain possession of the treasure ; but this was all to no purpose, though, at the same time, he could never see his mistress but in public. This made him impatient, and as he was lamenting his ill-fortune to her one day : " Have the goodness, IMadam," said he, " to let me know where you live : there is never a day that I do not call upon you, at least three or four times, without ever being blessed with a sight of you." " I generally sleep at home," replied she, laughing ; " but I must tell you, that you will never find me there, if you do not first pay a visit to the ^Marquis : I am not mistress of the house. I do not tell you," continued she, " that he is a man, whose acquaintance any one would very impatiently covet for his conversation : on the contrary, I agree that his humour is fantastical, and his manners not of the pleasing cast ; but there is nothing so savage and inhuman, which a little care, attention, and complaisance, may not tame into docility. I must repeat to you some verses upon the subject : I have got them by heart, because they contain a little advice, which you may accommodate, if you please, to your own case." 66 MEMOIRS OP RONDEAU. Keep in mind these maxims rare, You who hope to win the fair ; Who are, or would esteemed be. The quintessence of gallantry. That fopp'ry, grinning, and grimace And fertile store of common -place ; That oaths as false as dicers swear. And iv'ry teeth, and scented hair ; That trinkets, and the pride of dress. Can only give your scheme success. Keep in mind. Has thy charmer e'er an aunt ? Then learn the rules of woman's cant, And forge a tale, and swear you read it, Such as, save woman, none would credit : Win o'er her confidante and pages. By gold, for this a golden age is ; And should it be her wayward fate, To be incumbered with a mate, A dull, old dotard should he be. That dulness claims thy courtesy. Keep in mind. "• Truly," said Matta, " the song may say what it pleasef?, but I cannot put it in practice : your husband is far too exqui- site a monster for me. Why what a plaguy odd ceremony do you require of us in this country if we cannot pay our com- pliments to the wife without being in love with the husband ?" The Marchioness was much offended at this answer ; and as she thought she had done erough in pointing out to him the path which would conduct him to success, if he had de- served it, she did not think it worth while to enter into any farther explanation ; since he refused to cede, for her sake, so trifling an objection : from this instant she resolved to have done with him. , COUNT fJRAMMONT. 67 The Chevalier de Granimont had taken leave of his mis* tress nearly at the same time : the ardour of his pursuit was extinguished. It was not that Mademoiselle de Saint-Gennain was less worthy than hitherto of his attentions : on the con- trary, her attractions visibly increased: she retired to her ])illow with a thousand charms, and ever rose from it with :iil- ditional beauty ; the phrase of increasing in beauty as she increased in years, seemed to have been purposely made for her. The Chevalier could not deny these truths, but yet he could not find his account in them : a little less merit, with a little less discretion, would have been more agreeable. He perceived that she attended to him with pleasure, that she was diverted with his stories as much as he could wish, and that she received his billets and presents without scruple ; but then he also discovered that she did not wish to proceed any far- ther. He had exhausted every species of address upon her, and all to no purpose : her attendant was gained ; her family, charmed with the music of his conversation and his great attention, were never ha2)py without him : in short, he had reduced to practice the advice contained in the Marchioness's song, and every thing conspired to deliver the little Saint- Germain into his hands, if the little Saint-Germain had her- self been willing : but alas ! she was not inclined. It was in vain he told her the favour he desired would cost her nothing; and that since these treasures were rarely comprised in the fortune a lady brings with her in marriage, she would never find any person, who, by unremitting tenderness, unwearied attachment, and inviolable secrecy, would prove more worthy of them than himself. He then told her, no husband was ever able to convey a proper idea of the sweets of love, and that nothing could be more diflcreut than the passionate fondness of a lover, always tender, always afl'ectionate, yet always respectful, and the careless indifl'erence of a husband. f2 68 MEMOIRS OP Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain, not wishing to take the matter in a serious light, that she might not be forced to resent it, answered, that since it was generally the custom in her country to marry, she thought it was right to conform to it. without entering into the knowledge of those distinctions, and those marvellous particulars which she did not very well un- derstand, and of which she did not wish to have any further explanation ; that she had submitted to listen to him this one time, but desired he would never speak to her again in the same strain, since such sort of conversation was neither entertaining to her, nor could be serviceable to him. Though no one was ever more facetious than Mademoiselle de Saint- Germain, she yet knew how to assume a very serious air, whenever occasion required it. The Chevalier de Grammont soon saw that she was in earnest ; and finding it would cost him a great deal of time to effect a change in her sentiments, he was so far cooled in this pursuit, that he only made use of it to hide the designs he had upon the Marchioness de Senantes. He found this lady much disgusted at Matta's want of complaisance ; and his seeming contempt for her erased every favourable impression which she had once entertained for him. While she was in this humour, the Chevalier told her, that her resentment was just ; he exaggerated the loss which his friend had sustained ; he told her that her charms were a thousand times superior to those of the little Saint-Germain, and requested that favour for himself which his friend did not deserve. He was soon favourably heard upon this topic, and as soon as they were agreed, they consulted upon two measures necessary to be taken, the one to deceive her husband, the other his friend, which was not very difficult : Matta was not at all suspicious ; and the stupid Senantes, towards whom the Chevalier had already behaved as Matta had refused to do, could not be easy without him. This was much more than COIXT GRAMMONT. 69 was wanted ; for as soon as ever the Chevalier was with tlie JMarchionest:, ln^r husband immediately joined them out of j)oliteness ; and on no account would have left them alone together, for fear they should grow weary of each other with- out him. Matta, Avho all this time was entirely ignorant that he was disgraced, continued to serve his mistress in his own way. She had agreed with the Chevalier de Grammont, that to all appearance every thing should be carried on as before; so that the court always believed that the Marchioness only thought of i\latta and that the Chevalier was entirely devoted to Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain. There were very frequently little lotteries for trinkets ; the Chevalier de Grammont always tried his fortune, and was sometimes fortunate ; and under pretence of the prizes he had won, he bought a thousand things which he indiscreetly gave to the Marchioness, and which she still more indiscreetly accepted : the little Saint-Germain very seldom received any thing. There are meddling whisperers everywhere ; remarks were made upon these proceedings, and the same person that made them communicated them likewise to Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain. She pretended to laugh, but in reality was piqued. It is a maxim religiously observed by the fair sex, to envy each other those indulgences which themselves refuse. She took this very ill of the Marchioness. On the other hand, Matta was asked, if he was not old enough to make his own presents himself to the Marchioness de Senantes, without sending them by the Chevalier de Grammont. This roused him ; for, of himself, he would never have perceived it : his suspicions, however, were but slight, and he was willing to have them removed. " I must confess," said he to the Che- valier de Grammont, " that they make love here quite in a new style : a man serves here without reward ; he addresses 70 MEMOIRS OF himself to the husband when he is in love with the wife, and makes presents to another man's mistress, to get into the good graces of his own. The Marchioness is much obliged to you for" " It is you who are obliged," replied the Chevalier, " since this was done on your account : I was ashamed to find you had never yet thought of presenting her with any trifling token of your attention. Do you know that the people of this court have such extraordinary notions, as to think that it is rather owing to inadvertency that you never yet have had the spirit to make your mistress the smallest present ? For shame ! how ridiculous it is, that you can never think for yourself ! " Matta took this rebuke, without making any answer, being persuaded that he had in some measure deserved it ; besides, he was neither sufficiently jealous, nor sufficiently amorous, to think any more of it ; however, as it was necessary for the Chevalier's affairs, that Matta should be acquainted with the Marquis de Senautes, he plagued him so much about it, that at last he complied. His friend introduced him, and his mis- tress seemed pleased with this proof of complaisance, though she was resolved that he should gain nothing by it ; and the husband, being gratified with a piece of civility which he had long expected, determined, that very evening, to give them a supper at a little country seat of his, on the banks of the river, very near the city. The Chevalier de Gramraont answering for them both, accepted the offer ; and as this was the only one Matta would not have refused from the Marquis, he likewise consented. The Marquis came to convey them in his carriage at the hour appointed ; but he found only Matta. The Chevalier had engaged himself to play, on purpose that they might go with- out him ; Matta was for waiting for him, so great was his fear of being left alone with the Marquis ; but the Chevalier COUNT fi RAM MONT. 71 having sent to desire thcin to go on before, and tliat lie would be with theraas soon as he had finished his game, poor Matta was obliged to set out with the man, who, of all the world, was most oflensive to him. It was not the Chevalier's inten- tion quickly to extricate Matta out of this cmbarra.ssment ; he no sooner knew that they were gone, than he waited on the Marcliioness, under pretence of still finding her husband, that they might all go together to supper. The plot was in a fair way ; and as the Jlarchioness was of opinion that Matta's indifference merited no better treat- ment from her, she made no scruple of acting her part in it : she therefore waited for the Chevalier dc Grammont with in- tentions so much the more favourable, as she had for a long time expected him, and had some curiosity to receive a visit from him in the absence of her husband. "We may therefore suppose that this first opportunity would not have been lost, if Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain had not unexpectedly come in, almost at the same time with the Chevalier. She was more handsome and more entertaining that day than she had ever been before ; however, she appeared to them very ugly, and very tiresome : she soon perceived that her company was disagreeable, and being determined that they should not be out of humour with her for nothing, after having passed above a long half-hour in diverting herself witli their uneasiness, and in plnving a thousand monkey tricks, which she plainly saw could never be more unseasonable, she pulled off her hood, scarf, and all that part of her dress which ladies lay aside, when in a familiar manner they intend to pa^s the day anywhere. The Chevalier de Grammont cursed her in his heart, while she continued to torment liini for being in such ill-humour in such good company. At last the Mar- chioness, who was as much vexed as he was, said, rather drily, that she was obliged to wait on her Royal Highness : Made- 72 MEMOIRS OF inoiselle de Saint-Germain told her, that she would have the honour to accompany her, if it would not be disagreeable. She took not the smallest notice of her offer ; and the Che- valier finding that it would be entirely useless to j^rolong his visit at that time, retired with a good grace. As soon as he had left the house, he sent one of his scouts to desire the Marquis to sit down to table with his company, without waiting for him, because the game might not perhaps be finished so soon as he expected, but that he would be with him before supper was over. Having despatched this messenger, he placed a sentinel at the Marchioness's door, in hopes that the tedious Saint-Germain might go out before her ; but this was in vain, for his spy came and told him, after an hour's impatience and suspense, that they were gone out together. He found there was no chance of seeing her again that day ; every thing falling out contrary to his wishes : he was forced therefore to leave the Marchioness, and go in quest of the Marquis. While these things were going on in the city, Matta was not much diverted in the country : as he was prejudiced against the Marquis, all that he said displeased him. He cursed the Chevalier heartily for the t4te-U-t4te which he had procured him ; and he was upon the point of going away, when he found that he was to sit down to supper without any other company. However, as his host was very choice in his entertainments, and had the best wine and the best cook in all Piedmont, the sight of the first course appeased him ; and eating most voraciously, without paying any attention to the Marquis, he flattered himself that the supper would end without any dis- pute ; but he was mistaken. When the Chevalier de Grammont was at first endeavour- ing to bring about an intercourse between the Marouis and COUNT ORAMMONT. 73 Matta, he had given a very advantageous character of the latter, to make the former more desirous of hia acquaintance ; anil in the display of a thousand other accomplishn'.cnts, knowing what an infatuation the JMarqais had for the very name of erudition, he assured him that Matta was one of the most learned men in Europe. The Marquis, therefore, from the moment they sat down to supper, had expected some stroke of learning from Matta, to bring his own into play ; but he was much out in his reckon- ing. No one had read less, no one thought less, and no one had ever spoken so little at an entertainment as he had done : as he did not wish to enter into conversation, he opened his mouth only to eat, or ask for wine. The other, being offended at a silence which appeared to him affected, and wearied with having uselessly attacked him upon other subjects, thought he might get something out of him by changing the discourse to love and gallantry ; and therefore, to begin the subject, he accosted him in this manner : — "Since you are my wife's gallant" — "I!" said Matta, who wished to carry it discreetly : " those who told you so, told a damned lie." " Zounds, Sir," said the ^Marquis, " you speak in a tone which does not at all become you ; for I would have you to know, notwithstanding your contemptuous airs, that the ^Marchioness de Senantes is perhaps as worthy of your attentions as any of your French ladies, and that I have known some, greatly your superiors, who have thought it an honour to serve her." " Very well," said Matta ; "■ I think she is very deserving, and since you insist upon it, I am her servant and gallant, to oblige you." " You think, perhaps' continued the other, " that the same custom prevails in this country as in your own, and that the ladies have lovers, with no other intentions than to grant 74 MEMOIRS OF tliem favours : undeceive yourself, if you please, and know likewise, that even if such events were frequent in this court, I should not be at all uneasy." " Nothing can be more civil," said Matta, " but wherefore would you not ?" " I will tell you why," replied he : "I am well acquainted with the affec- tion my wife entertains for me ; I am acquainted with her discretion towards all the world ; and what is more, I am acquainted with my own merit." " You have a most uncommon acquaintance then," replied Matta ; " I congratulate you upon it ; I have the honour to drink it in a bumper." The Marquis pledged him ; but see- ing that the conversation dropped on their ceasing to drink, after two or three he^ilths, he wished to make a second, at- tempt, and attacked Matta on his strong side, that is to say, on his learning. He desired, him, therefore, to tell him, at what time he thought the Allobroges came to settle in Piedmont. Matta, who wished him and his Allobroges at the devil, said, " that it must be in the time of the civil wars." " I doubt that," said the other. " Just as you like," said. Matta. " Under what consulate ?" replied the Marquis. " Under that of the League," said Matta, " when the Guises brought the Lansque- nets into France ; but what the devil does that signify ?" The Marquis was tolerably warm, and naturally savage, so that God knows how the conversation would have ended, if the Chevalier de Grammont had not unexpectedly come in to appease them. It was some time before he could find out what their debate was ; for the one had forgotten the questions, and the other the answers, which had disobliged him, in order to reproach the Chevalier with his eternal passion for play, which made him always uncertain. The Chevalier, who knew that he was still more culpable than they thought, bore it all with patience, and condemned himself more than they desired. COUNT GRAiMMONT. Va This appeased them; and the entertainment ended with greater trantjuillity than it had begun. The conversation was again reduced to order ; but he couM not enliven it as he usually did. He was in very ill humour, and as he pressed them every minute to rise from table, the Marquis was of opinion that he had lost a great deal. JMatta said, on the contrary, that ho had won ; but for want of precautions had made perhaps an unfortunate retreat; and asked him if he had not stood in need of Sergeant La Place, with his ambus- cade. This piece of history was beyond the comprehension of the Marquis, and being afraid that Matta might explain it, the Chevalier changed the discourse, and was for rising from table ; but Matta would not consent to it. This effected a reconciliation between him and the Marquis, who thought this was a piece of civility intended for him ; however, it was not for him, but for his wine, to which Matta had taken a prodigious liking. The Duchess, who knew the character of the Marquis, waa charmed with the account which the Chevalier de Grammont gave her of the entertainment and conversation ; she sent for Matta to know the truth of it from himself; he confessed, that before the Allobroges were mentioned the Marquis was for quarrelling with him, because he was not in love with his wife. Their acquaintance having begun in this manner, all the esteem which the Marquis had formerly expressed for the Chevalier seemed now directed towards ]\Iatta. He went every day to pay ]Matta a visit, and 3Iatta was every day with his wife. This did not at all suit the Chevalier. He re- pented of his having chid Matta, whose assiduity now inter- rupted all his schemes ; and the Marchioness was still more embarrassed. Whatever wit a man may have, it will never 76 MEMOins OF please where Lis company is disliked ; and she repented that she had been formerly guilty of some trifling advances towards him. Matta began to find charms in her person, and might have found the same in her conversation, if she had been inclined to display them ; but it is impossible to be in good humour with persons who thwart our designs. While his passion increased, the Chevalier de Grammont was solely occupied in endeavouring to find out some method, by which he might accomplish his intrigue ; and this was the stratagem which he put in execution, to clear the coast, by removing at one and the same time both the lover and the husband. He told Matta, that they ought to invite the INIarquis to supper at their lodgings, and he would take upon himself to provide every thing proper for the occasion. Matta desired to know if it was to play at quinze, and assured him that he should take care to render abortive any intention he might have to engage in play, and leave him alone with the greatest blockhead in all Europe. The Chevalier de Grammont did not entertain any such thought, being persuaded that it would be impossible to take advantage of any such oppor- tunity, in whatever manner he might take his measures, and that they would seek for him in every corner of the city rather than allow him the least repose : his whole attention was therefore employed in rendering the entertainment agree- able, in finding out means of prolonging it, in order ultimately to kindle some dispute between the Marquis and Matta. For this purpose he put himself in the best humour in the world, and the wine produced the same effect on the rest of the company. The Chevalier de Grammont expressed his concern, that he had not been able to give the Marquis a little concert, as he had intended in the morning ; for the musicians had been COLM GUAMMOT. ( I all pre-engaged. Upon this the Marquis undertook to have them at his country-house the following evening, and invited the same company to .3 CHAPTER Y. The Chevalier de Grainmont, upon bia return to Fiauce, sustained, with the greatest success, the reputation he hatl acquired abroad. Alert at play, active and vigilant in love ; sometimes successful, and always feared, in bis intrigues ; in war alike prepared for the events of good or ill fortune ; pos- sessing an iuexbaustiblc fund of pleasantry in the former, and full of expedients and dexterity in the latter. Zealously attached to the Prince deConde'' from inclination, he was a witness, and, if we may be allowed to say it, his companion, in the glory he had acquired at the celebrated battles of Lens, Norlinguen, and Fribourg;^^ and the details he so frequently gave of them were far from diminishing their lustre. So long as he had only some scruples of conscience, and a thousand interests to sacrifice, he quitted all to follow a man, whom strong motives and resentments, which in some manner appeared excusable, had withdrawn from the paths of rec- titude. He adhered to him in bis first disgrace, with a con- stancy of which there are few examples ; but he could not submit to the injuries which he afterwards received, and which such an inviolable attachment so little merited. Therefore, without fearing any reproach for a conduct which sufficiently justified itself, as he had formerly deviated from his duty, by entering into the service of the Prince de Conde. he thought he had a right to leave him to return again to his duty. His peace was soon made at court, where many, far more culpable than himself, were immediately received into favour, g2 84 MEMOIRS OP when they desired it ; for the Queen, '^ still terrified at the dan- gers into which the civil wars had plunged the state at the commencement of her regency, endeavoured by lenient mea- sures to conciliate the minds of the people. The policy of the minister2<^ was neither sanguinary nor revengeful. His favourite maxim was rather to apptase the minds of the discontented by lenity, than to have recourse to violent measures ; to be con- tent with losing nothing by the war, without being at the expense of gaining any advantage from the enemy ; to suffer his character to be very severely handled, provided he could amass much wealth, and to spin out the minority to the greatest possible extent. His avidity to heap up riches was not alone confined to the thousand different means, with which he was furnished by his authority, and the situation in whicb he was placed. His whole pursuit was gain. He was naturally fond of gaming ; but he only played to enrich himself, and therefore, whenever he found an opportunity, he cheated. As he found the Chevalier de Grammont possessed a great deal of wit, and a great deal of money, he was a man accord- ing to his wishes, and soon became one of his set. The Chevalier soon perceived the artfulness and dishonesty of the Cardinal, and thought it was allowable in him to put in prac- tice those talents which he had received from nature, not only in his own defence, but even to attack him whenever an op- portunity offered. This would certainly be the place to men- tion these particulars ; but who can describe them with such ease and elegance, as may be expected by those who have heard his own relation of them ? Vain is the attempt to en- deavour to transcribe these entertaining anecdotes, their spirit seems to evaporate upon paper ; and in whatever light they are exposed, the delicacy of their colouring, and their beauty are lost. COUNT GRAMMONT. S5 It is then cnou^rli to say, that upon all occasions where address was reciprocally employed, the Chevalier gained the adrantage ; and that if he i)aid his court badly to the minister, he had the consolation to find, that those who suffered them- selves to be cheated, in the end gained no great advantage from their complaisance ; for they always continued in an abject submission, while the Chevalier de Granimont, on a thousand different occasions, never put himself under the least restraint ; of which the following is one instance. The Spanish amiy, commanded by the Prince de Cond^ and the Archduke,^! besieged Arras. The court was advanced as far as Pcronnc.22 The enemy, by the capture of this place, would have procured a reputation for their army, of which they were in great need ; as the French, for a considerable time past, had evinced a superiority in every engagement. The Prince supported a tottering party, as far as their usual inactivity and irresolution permitted him ; but as in the events of war it is necessary to act independently on some occasions, which, if once suffered to escape, can never be re- trieved ; for want of this power it freciuently happened that his great abilities were of no avail. The Spanish infantry had never recovered itself since the battle of Rocroy ;23 and he who had ruined them by that victory, by fighting against them, was the only man who now, by commanding their army, was capable of repairing the mischief he had done them. But the jealousy of the generals, and the distrust attendant upou their counsels, tied up his bauds. Nevertheless the siege of Arras ^4 ^as vigorously carried on. The Cardinal was very sensible how dishonourable it would be to suffer this place to be taken under his nose, and almost in sight of the King. On the other hand, it was very hazardous to attempt its relief, the Prince de Coude being a man who never neglected the smallest precaution for the security of his 88 MEMOIRS OF lines ; and if lines are attacked, and not forced, the greatest danger threatens the assailants ; for the more furious the assault, the greater is the disorder in the retreat ; and no man in the world knew so well as the Prince de Conde how to make the best use of an advantage. The army, commanded by Monsieur de Turenne, was considerably weaker than that of the enemy ; it was likewise the only resource they had to depend upon. If this army was defeated, the loss of Arras was not the only misfortune to be dreaded. The Cardinal, whose genius was happily adapted to such iunctures where deceitful negotiations could extricate him out of difficulties, was filled with terror at the sight of imminent danger, or of a decisive event. He was of opinion to lay siege to some other place, the capture of which might prove an idemnification for the loss of Arras ; but Monsieur de Turenne, who was altogether of a different opinion from the Cardinal, resolved to march towards the enemy, and did not acquaint him with his intentions until he was upon his march. The courier arrived in the midst of his distress, and redoubled his apprehensions and alarms ; but there was then no remedy. The Marshal, whose great reputation had gained him the confidence of the troops, had determined upon his measures before an express order from the court could prevent him. This was one of those occasions, in which the difficulties you encounter heighten the glory of success. Though the gene- ral's capacity, in some measure, aff'orded comfort to the court, they nevertheless were upon the eve of an event, which in one way or other must terminate both their hopes and their fears. While the rest of the courtiers were giving various opinions concerning the issue, the Chevalier de Grammont determined to be an eye-witness of it; a resolution which greatly surprised the court ; for those, who had seen as many COUNT Cn.VMMO.NT. 87 actions as he had, seemed to be exempted from such eagerness ; hut it was in vain that his friends opposed his rcsohitions. The King was pleased with his intention ; and tlic Queon appeared no less satisfied. lie assured her, that he wouM hring her good news; and she promised to embrace him, if he was as good as his word. The Cardinal made the same promise. To the latter, however, he did not pay much atten- tion; yet he believed it sincere, because the keeping of it would cost him nothing. lie set out in the dusk of the evening with Caseau, whom Monsieur de Turenne had sent express to their Majesties. The Duke of York^^ and the I\Iarquis d'Humieres^^ commanded under the ]\Iarshal. The latter was upon duty when the Chevalier arrived, it being scarce daylight. The Duke of York did not at first recollect him ; but the Marquis d'llu- mieres, running to him with open arms, "I thought," said he, " if any man came from court to pay us a visit upon such an occasion as this, it would be the Chevalier de Grammont. Well," continued he, " what are they doing at Peronne ? " " They are in great consternation," replied the Chevalier. " And what do they think of us V " They think," said he, " that if you beat the Prince, you will do no more than your duty ; if you are beaten, they will think you fools and mad- men, thus to have risked every thing, without considering the consequences." " Truly," said the Marquis, " you bring us very comfortable news. AVill you now go to Monsieur do Turenne's quarters, to acquaint him with it ; or will you choose rather to repose yourself in mine ? for you have been riding post all last night, and perhaps did not experience much rest in the preceding." " "Where have you heard, that the Chevalier de Grammont had ever any occasion for sleep?" replied he ; " only order me a hon'^e, that I may have the 88 MEMOIRS OP honour to attend the Duke of York ; for, most likely, he is not in the field so early, except to visit some posts." The advanced guard was only at cannon-shot from that oi the enemy. As soon as they arrived there, " I should like," said the Chevalier de Grammont, "to advance as far as the sentry which is posted on that eminence ; I have some friends and acquaintance in their army, whom I should wish to in- quire after ; I hope the Duke of York will give me permis- sion." At these words he advanced. The sentry, seeing him come forward directly to his post, stood upon his guard ; the Chevalier stopped as soon as he was within shot of him. The sentry answered the sign which was made to him, and made another to the ofBcer, who had begun to advance as soon as he had seen the Chevalier come forward, and was soon up with him ; but seeing the Chevalier de Grammont alone, he made no difficulty to let him approach. He desired leave of this officer to inquire after some relations he had in their army, and at the same time asked if the Duke d'Arscot was at the siege. " Sir," said he, " there he is, just alighted under those trees, which you see on the left of our grand guard ; it is hardly a minute since he was here with the Prince d'Arem- berg, his brother, the Baron de Limbec, and Louvigny." " May I see them upon parole ? " said the Chevalier. " Sir," said he, " if I were allowed to quit my post, I would do my- self the honour of accompanying you thither ; but I will send to acquaint them, that the Chevalier de Grammont desires to speak to them." And, after having despatched one of his guard towards them, he returned. " Sir," said the Chevalier de Grammont, " may I take the liberty to inquire how I came to be known to you ?" " Is it possible," said the other, " that the Chevalier de Grammont should forget La Motte, who had the honour to serve so long in his regiment?" to COUNT CnAMMONT. 89 " AVliat ! is it you, my good friend, La Mottc ? Truly, I was to blame for not remembering you, though you are in a dress very different from that which I first saw you in at Bruxelles, Avhen you taught the Duchess of Guise to dance the triolets ; and I am afraid your afiairs are not in so flourishing a condi- tion as they were the campaign after I had given you the company you mention." They were talking in this manner, when the Duke d'Arscot, followed by the gentlemen above mentioned, came up on full gallop. The Chevalier de Gram- mont was saluted by the whole company before he could say a word. Soon after arrived an immense number of others of his acquaintance, with many people, out of curiosity, on both sides, who, seeing him upon the eminence, assembled together with the greatest eagerness ; so that the two armies, without design, without truce, and without fraud, were going to join in conversation, if, by chance, ^Monsieur do Turenne had not perceived it at a distance. The sight surprised him. He hastened that way ; and the Marquis d'Humieres acquainted him with the arrival of the Chevalier dc Graramont, who wished to s})eak to the sentry before he went to the head- quarters. He added, that he could not comprehend bow the devil he bad managed to assemble both armies around him, for it was hardly a minute since he had left him. " Truly,'' said j\[onsieur de Turenne, " he is a very extraordinary man ; but it is only reasonable, that he should let us now have a little of his company, since he has paid his first visit to the enemy." At these words he despatched an aide-de-camp, to recall the officers of his army, and to acquaint the Chevalier do Gram- mont with his impatience to see him. This order arrived at the same time, with one of the same nature, to the enemy's officers. The Prince de Cond^, being informed of this peaceable interview, was not the least sur- prised at it, when he heard that it was occasioned by the arri- 90 MEMOIRS OP val of the Chevalier de Grammont. He only gave Lussan orders to recall the officers, and to desire the Chevalier to meet him at the same place the next day ; which the Chevalier promised to do, provided Monsieur de Turenne should approve of it, as he made no doubt he would. His reception in the King's army was equally agreeable as that which he had experienced from the enemy. Monsieur de Turenne esteemed him no less for his frankness than for the poignancy of his wit : he took it very kindly that he was the only courtier who came to see him in a time so critical as the present : the questions which he asked him about the court, were not so much for information, as to divert himself with his manner of relating their different apprehensions and alarms. The Chevalier de Grammont advised him to beat the enemy, if he did not choose to be answerable for an enterprise which he had undertaken without consulting the Cardinal. Mon- sieur de Turenne promised him he would exert himself to the utmost to follow his advice, and assured him, that if he suc- ceeded, he would make the Queen keep her word with him ; and concluded with saying, that he was not sorry the Prince de Conde had expressed a desire to see him. His measures were taken for an attack upon the lines : on this subject he discoursed in private with the Chevalier de Grammont, and concealed nothing from him except the time of execution : but this was all to no purpose ; for the Chevalier had seen too much, not to judge, from his own knowledge, and the obser- vations he had made, that from the situation of the army, the attack could be no longer deferred. He set out the next day for his rendezvous, attended by a trumpet, and found the Prince at the place which Monsieur de Lussan had described to him the evening before. As soon as he alighted, " Is it possible," said the Prince, embracing Ldm, " that this can be the Chevalier de Grammont, and that COUNT GHAMMONT. !)1 I should see him in the contrary party?" " It is you, my Lord, whom I see there," replied the Chevalier, " and I refer it to yourself, whether it was the fault of the Chevalier de Grammont, or your own, that we now embrace different in- terests." " I must confess," said the Prince, " that if there are some who have abandoned me like base, ungrateful wretches, you have left me, as I left myself, like a man of honour, who thinks himself in the right : but let us forget all cause of resentment, and tell me what was your motive for coming here, you, whom I thought at Peronne with the court." " Must I tell you?" said he; "why, faith then, I came to save your life. I know that you cannot help being in the midst of the enemy in a day of battle ; it is only necessary for your horse to be shot under you, and to be taken in arms, to meet with the same treatment from this Cardinal, as your uncle JNIontmorency "^ did from the other. I come, therefore, to hold a horse in readiness for you, in case of a similar mis- fortune, that you may not lose your head." " It is not the first time," said the Prince, smiling, " tliat you have rendered me this service, though the being taken prisoner at that time could not have been so dangerous to me as now." From this conversation, they passed to more entertaining subjects. The Prince asked him many questions concerning the court, the ladies, play, and about his amours ; and return- ing insensibly to the present situation of affairs, the Chevalier having inquired after some oflicors of his acquaintance, who had remained with him, the Prince told liini that if he chose, * he might go to the lines, where he would have an opportunity not only of seeing those whom he inquired after, but likewise the disposition of the quarters and entrenchments. To this he consented, and the Prince, having shewn him all the works, and attended him back to their rendezvous, " Well, Chevalier," said he, "when do you think we shall see you again?** 92 MEMOIRS OP " Faitli," replied he, " you have used me so handsomely, that I shall conceal nothing from you. Hold yourself in readiness an hour before daybreak ; for, you may depend upon it, we shall attack you to-morrow morning. I would not have ac- quainted you with this, perhaps, had I been intrusted with the secret :" but, nevertheless, in the present case you may believe me." " You are still the same man," said the Prince, again embracing him. The Chevalier returned to Monsieur de Turenne's camp towards night : every preparation was then making for the attack of the lines, and it was no longer a secret among the troops. " Well, Monsieur le Chevalier, were they all very glad to see you ?" said Monsieur de Turenne ; " the Prince, no doubt, received you with the greatest kindness, and asked a great number of questions." " He has shewn me all the civility imaginable," replied the Chevalier, " and, to convince me he did not take me for a sjjy, he led me round the lines and en- trenchments, and shewed me the preparations he had made for your reception." "And wha.t is his opinion?" said the Marshal. " He is persuaded that you will attack him to- night, or to-morrow by daybreak ; for you great captains," continued the Chevalier, " see through each other's designs in a wonderful manner." Monsieur de Turenne, with pleasure, received this com- mendation from a man who was not indiscriminately accus- tomed to bestow praise. He communicated to him the dispo- sition of the attack ; and at the same time acquainted him, that he was very happy that a man who had seen so many actions was to be present at this ; and that he esteemed it no small advantage to have the benefit of his advice : but as he believed that the remaining part of the night would be hardly sufficient for his repose, after having passed the former without any refreshment, he consigned him to the Mar- COUNT GllAM.MO.NT. 3.3 qiiis immediately exerted every effort, that he might take him before the rest of his companions, who were following, could arrive, and by this means almost killed his horse. One minute's reflection made the Chevalier consider what a disagreeable adventure it would be, thus coming from so glorious a victory, and the dangers of a battle so warmly disputed, to be taken by a set of scoundrels who had not been in it, and, instead of being received in triumph, and embraced by a great queen for the important news with which he was charged, to see himself stripped by the vanquished. During this short meditation, the trooper who followed him was arrived within shot, and still presenting his carbine, oflered him good quarter: but the Chevalier de Grammont, to whom this otTer, and the manner in which it was made, were equally displeasing, made a sign to him to lower his piece ; and perceiving his horse to be in wind, he lowered his hand, rode oflf like lightning, and left the trooper in such astonish- ment that he even forgot to fire at him. As soon as he arrived at Bapaume, he changed horses : the commander of this place showed him the greatest respect, assuring him that no person had yet passed ; that he would keep the secret, and that he would retain all that followed him, except the couriers of Monsieur de Turenne. He now had only to guard against those who would be watchinsT foi him about the environs of Peronne, to return as soon as they saw him, and carry his news to court, without being acquainted with any of the particulars. lie knew very well that Marshal du Plessis, Marshal de Villeroy and Gaboury, had boasted of this to the Cardinal before his de- parture. Wherefore, to elude this snare, he hired two well- mounted horsemen at Bapaume, and as soon as he had got a league from that place, and after giving them each two louis d'ors, to secure their fidelity, he ordered them to ride on before, 96 MEMOIRS OF to appear very much terrified, and to tell all those who should ask them any questions, " That all was lost ; that the Cheva- lier de Grammoiit had stopped at Bapaume, having no great inclination to be the messenger of ill news ; and that as for themselves, they had been pursued by the enemy's troopers, who were spread over the whole country since the defeat. Every thing succeeded to his wish : the horsemen were intercepted by Gaboury, whose eagerness had outstripped the two marshals ; but whatever questions were asked them, they acted their parts so well, that Peronne was already in consternation, and rumours of the defeat were whispered among the courtiers, when the Chevalier de Grammont arrived- Nothing so much enhances the value of good news, as when a false alarm of bad has preceded ; yet, though the Chevalier's was accompanied with this advantage, none but their Majesties received it with that transport of joy it deserved. The queen kept her promise to him in the most fascinating manner : she embraced him before the whole court ; the king appeared no less delighted ; but the cardinal, whether with the view of lessening the merit of an action which deserved a handsome reward, or whether it was from a return of that insolence which always accompanied him in prosperity, ap- peared at first not to pay any attention to what he said, and being afterwards informed that the lines had been forced, that the Spanish army was beaten, and that Arras was relieved : " Is the Prince de Conde taken ?" said he. " No," replied the Chevalier de Grammont. ■•' He is dead, then, I suppose ?" said the cardinal. " Not so, neither," answered the Chevalier. " Fine news indeed," said the cardinal, with an air of con- tempt ; and at these words he went into the queen's cabinet with their Majesties. And happy it was for the Chevalier that he did so, for without doubt he would have given him COUNT GRAMMONT. 97 some severe reply,^^ in resentment for tliose two fine questions, ami tlie conclusion lie had iliawn from tliem. The court was filled Avith the cardinal's sjiies : the Cheva- lier, as is usual on such an occasion, was surrounded by a crowd of courtiers and inquisitive people, and he was very glad to ease himself of some part of the load which lay heavy on his heart, within the hearing of the cardinal's creatures, and which he would perhaps have told him to his face. " Faith, gentlemen," said he, with a sneer, " there is nothing like being zealous and eager in the service of kings and great princes ; you have seen what a gracious reception his Majesty has given me ; you are likewise witnesses in what an obliging manner the queen kept her promise with me ; but as for the cardinal, he has received my news as if he gained no more by it than he did by the death of Peter Mazarine."^ This was sufficient to terrify all those who were sincerely attached to him ; and the best-established fortune would have been ruined at some period by a jest much less severe : for it was delivered in the presence of witnesses, who were only desirous of having an opportunity of representing it in its utmost malignancy, to make a merit of their vigilance with a powerful and absolute minister. Of this the Chevalier de Grammont was thorougldy convinced; yet whatever detri- ment he foresaw might arise from it, he could not help being much pleased with what he had said. The spies very faithfully discharged their duty : however, the affair took a very different turn from what they expected. The next day, when the Chevalier de Grammont was present while their jMajcsties were at dinner, the cardinal came in, and coming up to him, every body making way for him out of respect : " Chevalier," said he, " the news which you have brought is very good, their jMajesties are very well satisfied with it ; and to convince you it is more advantageous to me H 98 MEMOIRS OP than the death of Peter Mazarine, if you will come and diue with me we will have some play together ; for the queen will give us something to play for, over and above her first promise." In this manner did the Chevalier de Grammont dare to provoke a powerful minister, and this was all the resentment which the least vindictive of all statesmen expressed on the occasion. It was indeed very unusual for so young a man to reverence the authority of ministers no farther than as they were themselves respectable by their merit : for this, his own breast, as well as the whole court, applauded him, and he en- joyed the satisfaction of being the only man who durst pre- serve the least shadow of liberty, in a general state of servi- tude ; but it was perhaps owing to the cardinal's passing over this insult with impunity, that he afterwards drew upon him- self some difficulties, by other rash expressions less fortunate in the event. In the mean time the court returned : the cardinal, who was sensible that he could no longer keep his master in a state of tutelage, being himself worn out with cares and sick- ness, and having amassed treasures he knew not what to do with, and being sufficiently loaded with the weight of public odium, he turned all his thoughts towards terminating, in a manner the most advantageous for France, a ministry which had so cruelly shaken that kingdom. Thus, while he was earnestly laying the foundations of a peace so ardently wished for, pleasure and plenty began to reign at court. The Chevalier de Grammont experienced for a long time a variety of fortune in love and gaming : he was esteemed by the courtiers, beloved by beauties whom he neglected, and a dangerous favourite of those whom he admired ; more success- ful in play than in his amours ; but the one indemnifying him for want of success in the other, he was always full of life and COUNT GRAMMONT. 03 spirits ; ami in all transactions of importance, always a man of honour. It is a pity that we must bo forced here to interrupt the course of his history, by an interval of some years, as has been already done at the commencement of these memoirs : in a life where the most minute circumstances are always singular and diverting, we can meet "with no chasm which does not aftord reffret ; but whether he did not think them worthy of holding a place among his other adventures, or that he has only preserved a confused idea of them, we must pass to the parts of these fragments which arc better ascertained, that we may arrive at the subject of his journey to England. The peace of the Pyrenees,^' the king's marriage,32 the return of the Prince de Conde,^ and the death of the cardinal, gave a new face to the state. The eyes of the whole nation were fixed upon their king, who, for nobleness of mien, and grace- fulness of person, had no equal; but it was not then known that he was possessed of those superior abilities, which, filling his subjects with admiration, in the end made him so formid- able to Europe. Love and ambition, the invisible springs of the intrigues and cabals of all courts, attentively observed his first steps: pleasure promised herself an absolute empire over a prince who had been kept in ignorance of the necessary rules of government, and ambition had no hopes of reigning in the court except in the minds of those who were able to dispute the management of affairs ; when men were surprised to see the king on a sudden display such brilliaut abilities, which prudence, in some measure necessary, had so long obliged him to conceal. An application, inimical to the jdeasures which generally attract that age, and which unlimited power very seldom refuses, attached him solely to the cares of government, all u 2 100 MEMOIRS OP admired tliis wonderful change, but all did not find their account in it : the great lost their consequence before an ab- solute master ; and the courtiers approached with reverential awe the sole object of their respects, and the sole master of their fortunes : those who had conducted themselves like petty tyrants in their provinces, and on the frontiers, were now no more than governors : favours, according to the king's plea- sure, were sometimes conferred on merit, and sometimes for services done to the state ; but to importune, or to menace the court, was no longer the method to obtain them. The Chevalier de Grammont regarded his master's atten- tion to tlie affairs of state as a prodigy : he could not con- ceive how he could submit, at his age, to the rules he pre- scribed himself, or that he should give up so many hours of pleasure, to devote them to tiie tiresome duties, and laborious functions of government ; but he blessed the Lord that hence- forward no more homage was to be paid, no more court to be made, but to him alone, to whom they were justly due. Dis- daining as he did the servile adoration usually paid to a mi- nister, he could never crouch before the power of the two car- dinals who succeeded each other : he neither worshipped the arbitrary power of the one, nor gave his approbation to the artifices of the other : he had never received any thing from Cardinal Richelieu but an abbey, which, on account of his rank, could not be refused him ; and he never acquired any thing from Mazarine but what he won of him at play. By many years' experience under an able general he had acquired a talent for war ; but this, during a general peace, was of no farther service to him : he therefore thought, that, in the midst of a court flourishing in beauties, and abounding in wealth, he could not employ himself better, than in endea- vouring to gain the good opinion of his master, in making COrXT GRAM.MONT. I'Jl tlie best use of those advantages which nature liad given liiin for play, and in putting in practice new stratagems in love. He succeeded very well in the two first of these project.", and as he had from that time laid it down as the rule of his conduct, to attach himself solely to the king in all his views of preferment ; to have no regard for favour unless when it was supported by merit; to make himself beloved by the courtiers, and feared by the minister ; to dare to undertake any thing in order to do good, and to engage in nothing at the expense of innocence ; he soon became one in all the king's parties of pleasure, without gaining the ill-will of the courtiers. In play he was successful, in love unfortunate ; or, to speak more properly, his restlessness and jealousy over- came his natural prudence, in a situation wherein he had most occasion for it. La Motte Iloudancourt was one of the maids of honour to the queen dowager, and, though no sparkling beauty, she had drawn away lovers from the celebrated Mcne- ville.** It was sufficient in those days, for the king to cast his eye upon a young lady of the court to inspire her with hopes, and often with tender sentiments; but if he spoke to her more than once, the courtiers took it for granted, and those who had either pretensions to, or love for her, respectfully withdrew both the one and the other, and afterwards only paid her respect ; but the Chevalier de Grammont thought fit to act quite otherwise, perhaps to preserve a singularity of character, which upon the present occasion was of no avail. He had never before thought of her ; but as soon as he found that she was honoured with the king's attention, he was of opinion that she was likewise deserving of his : hav- ing attached himself to her, he soon became very troublesome, without convincing her he was much in love : she grew UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SANTA BARBARA COLLEGE LIBRARY 102 MEMOIRS OF weary of his persecutions ; but he would not desist, neither on account of her ill-treatment, nor of her threats. This con- duct of his at first made no great noise, because she waa in hopes that he would change his behaviour ; but finding him rashly persist in it, she complained of him : and then it was that he perceived that if love renders all conditions equal, it is not so between rivals. He was banished the court, and not finding any place in France which could console him for what he most regretted, the presence and sight of his prince, after having made some slight reflections upon his disgrace, and bestowed a few imprecations against her who was the cause of it, he at last formed the resolution of visiting England. COINT GUAMMO.NT. 103 CHAPTER VI. Curiosity to see a man equally famous for his crimes and his elevation, had once before induced the Chevalier de Gram- niont to visit England. Reasons of state assume great pri- vileges : whatever appears advantageous is lawful ; and every thing that is necessary is honourable in politics. While the king of England sought the protection of Spain in the Low Countries, and that of the States-general in Holland, other jjowers sent splendid embassies to Cromwell. This man, whose ambition had opened him a way to sove- reign power by the greatest crimes, maintained himself in it by accomi)lidhmcnts which seemed to render him worthy of it by their lustre. The nation, of all Europe the least sub- missive, patiently bore a yoke which did not even leave her the shadow of that liberty of which she is so jealous ; and Cromwell, master of the commonwealth, under the title of Protector, feared at home, but yet more dreaded abroad, was at his highest pitch of glory when he was seen by the Che- valier de Grammont; but the Chevalier did not see any ap- pearance of a court. One part of the nobility proscribed, the other removed from employments ; an affectation of purity of manners, instead of the luxury which the pomp of courts dis- plays, all taken together, presented nothing but sad and seri- ous objects in the finest city in the world ; and therefore the Chevalier acquired nothing by this voyage, but the idea of some merit in a profligate man, and the admiration of some concealed beauties he had found means to discover. Affairs wore quite a different appearance at bis second voy- 104 MEMOIRS OF age. The joy for the restoration of the royal family still appeared in all parts : the nation, fond of change and novelty, tasted the pleasure of a natural government, and seemed to breathe again after a long oppression. In short, the same people, who, by a solemn abjuration, had excluded even the posterity of their lawful sovereign, exhausted themselves in festivals and rejoicings for his return.^^ The Chevalier de Grammont arrived about two years after the restoration : the reception he met with in this court soon made him forget the other ; and the engagements he in the end contracted in England, lessened the regret he had in leaving France. This was a desirable retreat for an exile of his disposition : every thing flattered his taste ; and if the adventures he had in this country were not the most considerable, they were at least the most agreeable of his life. But before we relate them, it will not be improper to give some account of the English court, as it was at that period. The necessity of affairs had exposed Charles II. from his earliest youth, to the toils and perils of a bloody war : the fate of the king, his father, had left him for inheritance no- thing but his misfortunes and disgraces : they overtook hira everywhere; but it was not until he had struggled with his ill-fortune to the last extremity, that he submitted to the decrees of Providence. All those who were either great on account of their birth or their loyalty, had followed him into exile; and all the young persons of the greatest distinction, having afterwards joined him, composed a court worthy of a better iiite. Plenty and prosperity, which are thought to tend only to corrupt manners, found nothing to spoil in an indigent and wandering court. Necessity, on the contrary, which produces a thousand advantages whether we will or no, served them COUNT GUAMMONT. 10."* for ediicutlon ; and notliiii!? was to lie seen among tlicni Lut an oniiilation in ;t;Ioi-y, politcnes.s, and virtue. With tliis little court, in such high esteem for merit, the king of England returned two years prior to the period we mention, to ascend a throne, which to all appearances he was to fill as worthily as the most glorious of his predecessors. The magnificence displayed on this occasion was renewed at his coronation.'*'^ The death of the Duke of Gloucester,'*^ g^d of the Priucess Royal,*^ which followed soon after, had inter- rupted the course of this splendour, by a tedious mourning, which they (piitted at lust to prepare for the reception of the Infanta of Portugal.^^ It was in the height of the rejoicings they were making for this new queen, in all the splendour of a brilliant court, that the Chevalier de Grammont arrived to contribute to its magnificence and diversions. Accustomed as he was to the grandeur of the court of France, he was surprised at the politeness and splendour of the court of England. The king was inferior to none either in shape or air ; '^ his wit was pleasant ; his disposition easy and affable ; his soul, susceptible of opposite impressions, was compassionate to the unhappy, inflexible to the wicked, and tender even to excess ; he shewed great abilities in urgent aft'airs, but was incapable of application to any that were not so : bis heart was often the dupe, but oftener the slave, of his engagements. The character of the Duke of York'*' was entirely diflerent : he had the reputation of undaunted courage, an inviolable attachment for his word, great economy in his afiairs, hauteur, application, arrogance, each in their turn : a scrupulous ob- server of the lulcs of duty and the laws of justice; he v,'u3 accounted a faithful friend, and an implacable enemy. His morality and justice, struggling for some time with 106 MEMOIRS OF prejudice, had at last triumphed, by his acknowledging for hia wife Miss Hyde,'^ maid of honour to the Princess Royal, whom he had secretly married in Holland. Her father,*^ from that time prime minister of England, supported by this new in- terest, soon rose to the head of affairs, and had almost ruined them : not that he wanted capacity, but he was too self- sufficient. The Duke of Ormond** possessed the confidence and esteem of his master : the greatness of his services, the splendour of his merit and his birth, and the fortune he had abandoned in adhering to the fate of his prince, rendered him worthy of it : nor durst the courtiers even murmur at seeing him grand stev/ard of the household, first lord of the bedchamber, and lord lieutenant of Ireland. He exactly resembled the Mar- shal de Grammont, in the turn of his wit and the nobleness of his manners, and like him was the honour of his master's court. The Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of St. Albans'*^ were the same in England as they appeared in France : the one, full of wit and vivacity, dissipated, without splendour, an immense estate upon which he had just entered :*^ the other, a man of no great genius, had raised himself a considerable fortune from nothing, and by losing at play, and keeping a great table, made it appear greater than it was. Sir George Berkley ,''^ afterwards Earl of Falmouth, was the confidant and favourite of the king : he commanded the Duke of York's regiment of guards, and governed the duke himself. He had nothing very remarkable either in his wit, or his person ; but his sentiments were worthy of the fortune which awaited him, when, on the very point of his elevation, he was killed at sea. Never did disinterestedness so perfectly characterize the greatness of the soul : he had no views but what tended to the glory of his master : his credit was never COTTNT GRAMMO.NT. 107 employed hut in advisiniij him to reward .services, or to confer favours on merit : so poli^lied in conversation, that the greater his power, the greater was his humility ; and so sincere in all his proceedings, that he would never have been taken for a courtier. The Duke of Ormond's sons and his nephews had been in the king's court during his exile, and were far from diminish- ing its lustre after hi.s return. The Earl of Arran*^ had a singular address in all kinds of exercises, played well at tennis and on the guitar, and was pretty successful in gallantry. His elder brother, the Earl of Ossory,''^ was not so lively, but of the most liberal sentiments, and of great probity. The elder of the Ilanjiltons,^"' their cousin, was the man who of all the court dressed best : he was well made in his person, and possessed those happy talents which lead to fortune, and procure success in love : he was a most assiduous courtier, had the most lively wit, the most polished manners, and the most punctual attention to his master imaginable : no person danced better, nor was any one a more general lover : a merit of some account in a court entirely devoted to love and gal- lantry. It is not at all surprising, that with these qualities he succeeded my Lord Falmouth in the king's favour ; but it is very extraordinary that he should have experienced the same destiny, as if this sort of war had been declared against merit only, and as if this sort of combat was fatal to none but such as had certain hopes of a splendid fortune. This, however, did not happen till some years afterwards. The beau Sidney,^' less dangerous than he appeared to be, had not sufficient vivacity to support the impression which his figure made ; but little Jemiyn was on all sides successful in his intrigues. The old Earl of Saint Albans, his uncle, had for a long time adopted him, though the youngest of all his nephews. It is well known what a table the good man kept 108 MEMOIRS OP at Paris, while the king his master was starving at Brussels, and the queen dowager, his mistress, lived not over well in France.^- Jermyn,^^ supported by his uncle's wealth, found it no diffi- cult matter to make a considerable figure upon his arrival at the court of the Princess of Orange : the poor courtiers of the king her brother could not vie with him in point of equip- age and magnificence ; and these two articles often produce as much success in love as real merit : there is no necessity for any other example than the present ; for though Jermyn was brave, and certainly a gentleman, yet he had neither brilliant actions, nor distinguished rank, to set him off; and as for his figure, there was nothing advantageous in it. He was little; his head was larfje and his leg's small ; his features were not disagreeable, but he was affected in his carriage and behaviour. All his wit consisted in expressions learnt by rote, which he occasionally employed either in raillery or in love. This was the whole foundation of the merit of a man so formidable in amours. The Princess Royal was the first who was taken with him :^^ Miss Hyde seemed to be following the steps of her mistress : this immediately brought him into credit, and his reputation was established in England before his arrival. Prepossession in the minds of women is sufficient to find access to their hearts : Jermyn found them in dispositions so favourable for him, that he had nothing to do but to speak. It was in vain they perceived that a reputation so lightly established, was still more weakly sustained : the prejudice remained : the Countess of Castlemaine,^-'' a woman lively and discerning, followed the delusive shadow ; and though unde- ceived in a reputation which promised so much, and performed so liitle, she nevertheless continued in her infatuation : she even persisted in it, until she was upon the point of embroiling COUNT GIJAM.VONT. l09 herself with the kinir; so great was this firsc instance of her constancy. Such were the heroes of the court. As for the beauties, you could not look anywhere without seeing them : those of the greatest reputation were this same Countess of Castle- niaiue, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland, Lady Chesterfield, Lady Shrewsbury,^ the Mrs. Roberts, ]\Irs. Middleton, the Miss Brooks,^" and a thousand others, who shone at court Avith equal lustre; but it was 3Iiss Hamilton and ^Miss Stewart who were its chief ornaments.^'* The new queen gave but little additional brilliancy to the court, either in her person, or in her retinue, which was then composed of the Countess de Panetra, who came over with her in quality of lady of the bedchamber; six frights, who called themselves maids of honour, and a duenna, another monster, who took the title of governess to thof-e extraordinary beauties. Among the men were Francisco de Melo, brother to the Countess de Panetra ; one Taurauvedez, who called himself Don Pedro Francisco Correo de Silva, extremely handsome, but a greater fool than all the Portuguese ].ut together : he was more vain of his names than of his person ; but the Duke of Buckingham, a still greater fool than he, though more addicted to raillery, gave him the additional name of Peter of the AVood. He was so enraged at this, that, after many fruitless complaints and ineffectual menaces, poor Pedro de Silva was obliged to leave England, while the happy duke kept posses- sion of a Portuguese n^^nph more hideous than the queen's maids of honour, whom he had taken from him, as well as two of his names. Besides these, there were six cliajilain?, four bakers, a Jew perfumer, and a certain officer, probably without an oflice, who called himself her highness's barber. Katharine de Braganza was far from appearing with splendour in the charming court where she came to reign ; however, in 110 MEMOIRS OF the end slie was pretty successful.^^ The Chevalier de Gram- mont, who had been long known to the royal family, and to most of the gentlemen of the court, had only to get acquainted with the ladies ; and for this he wanted no interpreter : they all spoke French enough to explain themselves, and they all understood it sufficiently to comprehend what he had to say to them. The queen's court was always very numerous ; that of the duchess was less so, but more select. This princess ^ had a majestic air, a pretty good shape, not much beauty, a great deal of wit, and so just a discernment of merit, that, whoever of either sex were possessed of it, were sure to be distin- guished by her : an air of grandeur in all her actions made her be considered as if born to support the rank which placed her so near the throne. The queen dowager returned after the marriage of the Princess Royal, and it was in her court that the two others met.^^ The Chevalier de Grammont was soon liked by all parties : those who had not known him before, were surprised to see a Frenchman of his disposition. The king's restoration hav- ing drawn a great number of foreigners from all countries to the court, the French were rather in disgrace ; for, instead of any persons of distinction having appeared among the first who came over, they had only seen some insignificant pup- pies, each striving to outdo the other in folly and extrava- gance, despising every thing which was not like themselves, and thinking they introduced the lei air, by treating: the Ens'- ash as strangers m their own country. The Chevalier de Grammont, on the contrary, was familiar with every body : he gave in to their customs, eat of every thing, and easily habituated himself to their manner of liv- ing, which he looked upon as neither vulgar nor barbarous ; and as he shewed a natural complaisance, instead of the im- COUNT GRAMMONT. 1 1 1 pertinent affectation of the others, all the nation was olirirmed with a man, who agreeably indpninificd them fur wlmt they had suffered from the folly of the former. lie first of all made his court to the king, and was of all his parties of pleasure : he played high, and lost but seldom : he found so little dillercnce in the manners and conversation of those with whom he chiefly associated, that he could scarcely believe he was out of his own country. Every thing, which could agreeably engage a man of bis disposition, pre- sented itself to his different humours, as if the pleasures of the court of France had quitted it to accompany him in his exile. He was every day engaged for some entertainment ; and those who wished to regale him in their turn, were obliged to take their measures in time, and to invite him eight or ten days beforehand. These importunate civilities became tire- some in the long-run ; but as they seemed indispensable to a man of his disposition, and as thoy were the most genteel people of the court who loaded him with them, he submitted with a good grace ; but always reserved to himself the liberty of supping at home. His supper-hour depended upon play, and was indeed very uncertain ; but his supper was always served up with tl-.e greatest elegance, by the assistance of one or two servants, who were excellent caterers and good attendants, but under- stood cheating still better. The company, at these little entertainments, was not nu- merous, but select : the first people of the court were com- monly of the party ; but the man, who of all others suited him best on these occasions, never failed to attend : that was the celebrated Saint Evremond, who with great exactness, but too great freedom, had written the history of the treaty of the 112 MEMOIKS OP Pyrenees : an exile like himself, tliougli for very different reasons. Happily for them both, fortune had, some time before the arrival of the Chevalier de Graramont, brought Saint Evre- mond 62 to England, after he had had leisure to repent in Hol- land of the beauties of that famous satire. The Chevalier was from that time his hero : they had each of them attained to all the advantages which a knowledge of the world, and the society of people of fashion, could add to the improvement of good natural talents. Saint Evremond, less engaged in frivolous pursuits, frequently gave little lec- tures to the Chevalier, and by making observations upon the past, endeavoured to set him right for the present, or to in- struct him for the future. " You are now," said he, " in the most agreeable way of life a man of your temper could wish for : you are the delight of a youthful, sprightly, and gallant court : the king has never a party of pleasure to which you are not admitted. You play from morning to night, or, to speak more properly, from night to morning, without knowing what it is to lose. Far from losing the money you brought hither, as you have done in other places, you have doubled it, trebled it, multiplied it almost beyond your wishes, notwith- standing the exorbitant expenses you are imperceptibly led into. This, without doubt, is the most desirable situation in the world : stop here. Chevalier, and do not ruin your affairs, by returning to your old sins. Avoid love, by pursuing other pleasures : love has never been favourable to you.^"^ You are sensible how much gallantry has cost you ; and every person here is not so well acquainted with that matter as yourself. Play boldly : entertain the court with your wit : divert the king by your ingenious and entertaining stories; but avoid all engagements which can deprive you of this merit, and COUNT GRAMMONT. 113 malvc you forget you arc a strnuger and an exile in this do light ful country. " Fortune may grow weary of l)efrien(ling you at l)lay. What would have become of you, if your last misfortune had happened to you, when your money had beeu at as low an ebb as I have known it ? Attend carefully then to this ne- cessary deity, and renounce the other. You will be missed at the court of France, before you grow weary of this ; but be that as it may, lay up a good stoi*e of money : when a man is rich, he consoles himself for his banishment. I know you well, my dear Chevalier : if you take it into your head to seduce a lady, or to supplant a lover, your gains at play will by no means suffice for presents and for bribes : no, let play be as productive to you as it can be, you will never gain so much by it, as you will lose by love, if you yield to it. " You are in possession of a thousand splendid qualitica- tioHS which distinguish you here : generous, benevolent, ele- gant, and polite ; and for your engaging wit, inimitable. Upon a strict examination, perhaps, all this would not be found literally true ; but these are brilliant marks ; and since it is granted that you possess them, do not shew yourself here in any other light : for, in love, if your manner of paying your addresses can be so denominated, you do not in the least resemble the picture I have just now drawn." " My little philosophical monitor," said the Chevalier de Grammont, " you talk here as if you were the Cato of Nor maudy." "Do I say any thing untrue?" replied Saint Evreraond : " is it not a fact, that as soon as a woman plqases you, your first care is to find out whether she has any other lover, and your second how to plague her ; for the gaining her affection is the last thing in your thoughts. You seldom engage in intrigues, but to disturb the happiness of others : a mistress who has no lovers, would have no charms for you, I 114 MEMOIRS OP and if she has, slie would be invaluable. Do not all the places through which you have passed furnish me with a thousand examples ? Shall I mention your coup d'essai at Turin? the trick you played at Fontainbleau, where you robbed the Princess Palatine's courier upon the highway? And for what purpose was this fine exploit, but to put you in pos- session of some proofs of her affection for another, in order to give her uneasiness and confu-sion by reproaches and menaces, which you had no right to use ? " Who but yourself ever took it into his head to place him- self in ambush upon the stairs, to disturb a man in an intrigue, and to pull him back by the leg when he was half way up to his mistress's chamber ? Yet did not you use your friend the Duke of Buckingham in this manner, when he was stealing at night to although you were not in the least his rival ? How many spies did not you send out after d'Olonne ?^-* Plow many tricks, frauds, and persecutions did you not practise for the Countess de Fiesque,^ who perhaps might have been constant to you, if you had not yourself forced her to be otherwise ? But, to conclude, for the enumeration of your iniquities would be endless, give me leave to ask you, how you came here ? Are not we obliged to that same evil genius of yours, which rashly inspired you to intermeddle even in the gallantries of your prince ? Shew some discretion then on this point here, I beseech you ; all the beauties of the court are already engaged ; and however docile the English may be with respect to their wives, they can by no means bear the inconstancy of their mistresses, nor patiently suffer the ad van tages of a rival : suffer them, therefore, to remain in tran- quillity, and do not gain their ill-will for no purpose. " You certainly will meet with no success with such as are unmarried : honourable views, and good landed property, are required here ; and you possess as much of the one as the COL'.NT CKA.MMO.NT. 115 other. Every country has its customs : in Holland, unmar- ried ladies arc of easy access, and of tender dispositions ; but as soon as ever they arc married, they become like so many Lucretias : in France, the women are great coquettes before marriage, and still more so afterwards ; but here it is a miracle if a young lady yields to any proposal but that of matrimony ; and I do not believe you yet so destitute of grace as to think of that." Such were Saint Evremond's lectures ; but they were all to no purpose : the Chevalier de Grammont only attended to them for his amusement ; and though he was sensible of the truth they contained, he paid little regard to them : in fact, being weary of the favours of fortune, he had just resolved to pursue those of love. Mrs. Middleton was the first whom he attacked : she was one of the handsomest women in town, though then little known at court : so much of the coquette as to discourage no one ; and so great was her desire of appearing magnificently, that she was ambitious to vie with those of the greatest for- tunes, though unable to support the expense. All this suited the Chevalier de Grammont ; therefore, without tri- fling away his time in useless ceremonies, he applied to her porter for admittance, and chose one of her lovers for his con- fidant. This lover, who was not deficient in wit, was. at that time a Mr. Jones, afterwards Earl of Ranelagh -.^ what enfrafred him to serve the Chevalier de Grammont, was to traverse the designs of a most dangerous rival, and to relieve himself from an expense which began to lie too heavy upon him. In both respects the Chevalier answered his purpose. Immediately spies were placed, letters and presents flew about : he was received as well as he could wish : he was per- mitted to ogle : he was even ogled again ; but this was all : I 2 116 MEMOIRS OP he lounJ that tho fair one was very willing to accept, but was tardy in making returns. This induced him, without giving up his pretensions to her, to seek Lis fortune else- where. Among tlie queen's maids of honour, there was one called Warmostro f^ she was a beauty very different from the other. Mri3. Middlcton''^ was well made, fair, and delicate ; but had in her behaviour and discourse somctliing precise and affected. The indolent languishing airs she gave herself did not please every body : people grew weary of those sentiments of deli- cacy, which she endeavoured to explain without understand- ing them herself; and instead of entertaining she became tiresome. In these attempts she gave herself so much trou- ble, that she made the comj)any uneasy, and her ambition to pass for a wit, only established her the reputation of being tiresome, which lasted much longer than her beauty. Miss Warmestre was brown : she had no shape at all, and still less air; but she had a very lively complexion, very sparkling eyes, tempting looks, which spared nothing that might engage a lover, and promised every thing which could preserve him. In the end, it very plainly appeared that her consent went along with her eyes to the last degree of indiscretion. It was between these two goddesses that the inclinations of the Chevalier de Grammont stood wavering, and between whom his presents were divided. Perfumed gloves, pocket looking-glasses, elegant boxes, ai)ricot paste, essences, and other small wares of love, arrived every week from Paris, with some new suit for himself; but, with regard to more solid presents, such as ear-rings, diamonds, brilliants, and bright guineas, all this was to be met with of the best sort in Loudon, and the ladies were as well pleased with them as if they had been brought from abroad. COOT CBAMJI05T. 117 3ILy!Siew«ffB«^" •'•••:--' - -^ •■ t.. .,t,i .....i T' rv.OTteaiof C_ : , _ , :i to her; bat, laj-UaA. of l^n^ I »♦ it. faroored. a< tv as die waa able, t;. from ao iiuiurredon eommr/a t. superior to the rest of ' tliis jaatinif, to dirert ' wUeh die heW wi*' appeariiij^ witixfOt :rt:h 'i which all the coiirt h^r^ao t/> : make Mias Stewart h^ fiarilled a bottle full of ink upon a dcsiiatch of four jiages, and that the king's monkey, which was blamed for this accident, had been a lonir time in disgrace. Jermyn menti(mcd many places where he had received loni,' and favourable audiences : however, all these articles of accusation amounted only to some delicate familiarities, or at most, to what is generally denominated the innocent part of an intrigue; but Killegrew, who wished to surpass these trivial depositions, boldly declared that he had had the honour of being upon the most intimate terms with her : he was of a sprightly and witty humour, and had the art of telling a story in the most entertaining manner, by the graceful and natural turn he could give it : he affirmed that he had found the critical minute in a certain closet built over the water, for a purpose very different from that of giving ease to the pains of love : that three or four swans had been witnesses to his happiness, and might perhaps have been witnesses to the happiness of many others, as the lady frequently repaired to that place, and was particularly delighted with it. The Duke of York found this last accusation greatly out of bounds, being convinced he himself had sufficient proofs of the contrary : he therefore returned thanks to these offi- cious informers for their frankness, ordered them to be silent for the future upon what they had been telling him, and immediately passed into the king's apartment. As soon as he had entered the cabinet. Lord Falmouth, who had followed him, related what had passed to the Earl of Ossory, whom he met in the presence chamber : they strongly suspected what was the subject of the conversation of the two brothers, as it was long ; and the Duke of York appeared to be in such agitation when he came out, that they no longer doubted that the result had been unfavoui-able for 166 MEMOIRS OF poor Miss Hyde. Lord Falmouth began to be affected for her disgrace, and to relent that he had been concerned in it, when the Duke of York told him and the Earl of Ossory to meet h'm in about an hour's time at the chancellor's. They were rather surprised that he should hav^e the cruelty himself to announce such a melancholy piece of news: they found his royal highness at the appointed hour in Mi«s Hyde's chamber : a few tears trickled down her cheeks, which she endeavoured to restrain. The chancellor, leaning against the wall, appeared to them to be puffed up with something, which they did not doubt was rage and despair. The Duke of York said to them, with that serene and plea- sant countenance with which men generally announce good news : " As you are the two men of the court whom I most esteem, I am desirous you should first have the honour of paying your compliments to the Duchess of York : there she is." Surprise was of no use, and astonishment was unseason- able on the present occasion : they were, however, so greatly possessed with both surprise and astonishment, that in order to conceal it, they immediately fell on their knees to kiss her hand, which she gave to them with as much majesty as if she had been used to it all her life. The next day the news was made public, and the whole court was eager to pay her that respect, from a sense of duty, which in the end became very sincere. The petits maitres who had spoken against her, seeing their intentions disappointed, were not a little embarrassed. Women are seldom accustomed to forgive injuries of this nature ; and, if they promise themselves the pleasure of re- venge, when they gain the power, they seldom forget it : in the present case, however, the fears of these petits-maitres were their only punishment. COUNT GRAM MONT. 167 The Duchess of York, beinfj fully informerl of all tliat was said in the cabinet concerninnj her, instead of shewing the least resentment, studied to distinguish, by all manner of kindness and good offices, those who had attacked her in so sensible a part ; nor did she ever mention it to them, but in order to praise their zeal, and to tell them, " that nothing was a greater proof of the attachment of a man of honour, than his beinjr more solicitous for the interest of his friend, or master, than for his own reputation :" a remarkable exam- ple of prudence and moderation, not only for the fair sex, but even for those who value themselves most upon their philo- sophy among the men. The Duke of York, having quieted his conscience by the declaration of his marriage, thought that he was entitled, by this generous effort, to give way a little to his inconstancy : he therefore immediately seized upon whatever he could first lay his hands upon : this was Lady Carncgy,"^'' who had been in several other hands. She was still tolerably handsome, and her disposition, naturally inclined to tenderness, did not oblige her new lover long to languish. Every thing coin- cided with their wishes for some time : Lord Carnegy, her husband, was in Scotland ; but his father dying suddenly, he as suddenly returned with the title of Southcsk, which his wife detested ; but which she took more patiently than she received the news of his return. Some private intima- tion had been given him of the honour that was done him in his absence ; nevertheless, he did not shew his jealousy at first ; but, as he was desirous to be satisfied of the reality of the fact, he kept a strict watch over his wife's actions. The Duke of York and her ladyship had, for some time, been upon such terms of intimacy, as not to pass their time in friv(. lous amusements ; however, the husband's return obliged them to maintain some decorum : he therefore never went to 168 MEMOIRS OP her house, but in form, that is to say, always accompanied by some friend or other, to give his amours at least the appearance of a visit. About this time Talbot ^^'^ returned from Portugal : this connection had taken place during his absence ; and without knowing who Lady Southesk was, he had been informed that his master was in love with her. A few days after his arrival, he was earned, merely to keep up appearances, to her house by the duke ; and after being introduced, and some compliments having been paid on both sides, he thought it his duty to give his royal highness an ojiportunity to pay his compliments, and accordingly re- tired into the ante-chamber, which looked into the street, and placed himself at the window to view the people as they passed. He was one of the best -meaning men in the world on such occasions ; but was so subject to forgetfulness and absence of mind, that he once forgot, and left behind him at London, a complimentary letter which the duke had given him for the Infanta of Portugal, and never recollected it till he was going to his audience. He stood sentry, as we have before said, very attentiv^e to his instructions, when he saw a coach stop at the door, without being in the least concerned at it, and still less, at a man whom he saw get out of it, and whom he immediately heard coming up stairs. The devil, who ought to be civil upon such occasions, forgot himself in the present instance, and brought up Lord Southesk in proprid persond : his royal highness's equi- page had been sent home, because ray lady had assured him that her husband was gone to see a bear and a bull baiting, an entertainment in which he took great delight, and from whence he seldom returned until it was very late ; so that rOfNT CRAMMONT. 169 iSoutliosk, not seeing' any equipairc at the door, little ima- gined that he had such good company in his house ; but if lie was surprised to see Talbot carelessly lolling in his wife's ante-chaml)er, his surprise was soon over. Talbot, who had not seen him since they were in Flanders, and never suppos- ing that he had changed his name : " Welcome, Carncgy, welcome, my good fellow," said he, giving him his liand, " where the devil have you been, that I have never been able to set eyes on you since we were at Brussels ? What business brought you here? Do you likewise wish to see Lady Southesk ? If this is your intention, my poor friend, you may go away again ; for I must inform you, the Duke of York is in love with her, and I will tell you in confidence, that, at this very time, he is in her chamber." Southesk, confounded as one may suppose, had no time to answer all these fine questions : Talbot, therefore, attended him down stairs as his friend ; and, as his humble servant, advised him to seek for a mistress elsewhere. Southesk, not knowing what else to do at that time, returned to his coach ; and Talbot, overjoyed at the adventure, impatiently waited for the duke's return, that he might acquaint him with it ; but he was very much surj)rised to find that the story afforded no pleasure to those who had the principal share in it; and his greatest concern was, that Carnegy had changed his name, as if only to draw him into such a confidence. This accident broke off a commerce which the Duke of York did not much regret ; and indeed it was happy for him that he became indiflerent; for the traitor Southesk medi- tated a revenge, ^^ whereby, without using either assassina- tion or poison, he would have obtained some satisfaction upon those who had injured him, if the connection had continued any longer. lie went to the most infamous places, to seek for the most 170 MEMOIRS OF infamous disease, which he met with ; but his revenge was only half completed ; for after he had gone through every remedy to get quit of his disease, his lady did but return him his present, having no more connection with the person for whom it was so industriously prepared. Lady Robarts "*^ was tben in the zenith of her glory : her beauty was striking; yet notwithstanding the brightness of the finest complexion, with all the bloom of youth, and with every requisite for inspiring desire, she nevertheless was not attractive. The Duke of York, however, would probably have been successful, if difficulties, almost insurmountable, had not disappointed his good intentions : Lord Robarts, her husband, was an old, snarling, troublesome, peevish fellow, in love with her to distraction, and, to complete her misery, a perpetual attendant on her person. She perceived his royal highness's attachment to her, and seemed as if she was inclined to be grateful : this re- doubled his eagerness, and every outward mark of tender- ness he could possibly shew her; but the watchful husband redoubling his zeal and assiduity, as he found the approaches advance, every art was practised to render him tractable : several attacks were made upon his avarice and his ambi- tion. Those who possessed the greatest share of his con- fidence, insinuated to him, that it was his own fault, if Lady Robarts, who was so worthy of being at court, was not received into some considerable post, either about the queen or the duchess : he was offered to be made lord lieu- tenant of the county where his estate was ; or to have the management of the Duke of York's revenues in Ireland, of which he should have the entire disposal, provided he imme- diately set out to take possession of his charge ; and having accomplished it, he might return as soon as ever he thought proper. COUNT QnAMMONT. 171 He perfectly well understood the meaning of these propo- sals, and was fully apprized of the advantages he might reap from them : in vain did ambition and avarice hold out their allurements ; he was deaf to all their temptations, nor could ever the old fellow be persuaded to be made a cuckold. It is not always an aversion to, or a dread of this distinction, which preserves us from it : of this her husband was very sensible ; therefore, under the pretence of a pilgrimage to Saint Winifred the virgin and martyr, who was said to euro women of barrenness, he did not rest, until the highest moun- tains in Wales were between his wife and the person who had designed to perform this miracle in London, after his departure. The duke was for some time entirely taken up with the pleasures of the chase, and only now and then engaged in those of love ; but his taste having undergone a change in this particular, and the remembrance of Lady Robarts wear- ing off by degrees, his eyes and wishes were turned towards Miss Brook ; and it was in the height of this pursuit, that Lady Chesterfield threw herself into his arms, as we shall see, by resuming the sequel of her adventures. The Earl of Bristol, '^^ ever restless and ambitious, had put in practice every art to possess himself of the king's favour. As this is the same Digby whom Count Bussy mentions in his Annals, it will be sufficient to say, that he was not at all changed : he knew that love and pleasure had possession of a master, whom he himself governed in defiance of the chan- cellor; thus, he was continually giving entertainments at his house ; and luxury and elegance seemed to rival each other in those nocturnal feasts, which always lead to other enjoy- ments. The two Miss Brooks, his relations, were always of those parties : they were both formed by nature to excite love in others, as well as to be susceptible of it themselves ; they were just what the king wanted : the earl, from this com- 172 JIEJIOIRS OP meucement, was beginning to entertain a good opinion of his l)roject, when Lady Castlemaine, who had lately gained en- tire possession of the king's heart, was not in a humour, at that time, to share it with another, as she did very indiscreetly afterwards, despising Miss Stewart. As soon, therefore, as she received intimation of these secret practices, under pre- tence of attending the king in his parties, she entirely discon- certed them ; so that the earl was obliged to lay aside his projects, and Miss Brook to discontinue her advances. The king did not even dare to think any more on this subject ; but his brother was pleased to look after what he neglected ; and IMiss Brook accepted the offer of his heart, until it pleased heaven to dispose of her otherwise, which happened soon after in the following manner. Sir John Denham,'*^^ loaded with wealth as well as years, had passed his youth in the midst of those pleasures which people at that age indulge in without restraint : he was one of the brightest geniuses England ever produced for wit and humour, and for brilliancy of composition : satirical and free in his poems, he spared neither frigid writers, nor jealous hus- bands, nor even their wives : every part abounded with the most poignant wit, and the most entertaining stories ; but his most delicate and spirited raillery turned generally against matrimony ; and, as if he wished to confirm, by his own ex- ample, the truth of what he had written in his youth, he mar- ried, at the age of seventy-nine, this Miss Brook of whom we are speaking, who was only eighteen. The Duke of York had rather neglected her for some time before ; but the circumstance of so unequal a match rekindled his ardour; and she, on her part, suffered him to entertain hopes of an approaching bliss, which a thousand considerations had opposed before her marriage : she wished to belong to the court; and for the promise of being made lady of the bed- COUNT GUAMMONT. KM chamber to the duchess, she was upon the point of making him another promise, or of immediately performing it, if re- quired, when, in the middle of this treaty, Lady Chesterfield was tempted by her evil genius to rob her of her conquest, in order to disturb all the world. However, as Lady Chesterfield could not see the Duke of York, except in public assemblies, she was under the neces- sity of nuiking the most extravagant advances, in order to seduce him from his former connection ; and as he was the most unguarded oglcr of his time, the whole court was informed of the intrigue before it was well begun. Those who appeared the most attentive to their conduct, were not the least interested in it ; Hamilton and Lord Ches- terfield watched them narrowly; but Lady Denham, vexed that Lady Chesterfield should have stepped in before her, took the liberty of railing against her rival with the greatest bit- terness. Hamilton had hitherto flattered himself, that vanity alone had engaged Lady Chesterfield in this adventure ; but he was soon undeceived, whatever her indiflerence might have been when she first commenced this intrigue. We often pro- ceed farther than we at first intended, when we indulge our- selves in trifling liberties, which we think of no consequence ; for though perhaps the heart takes no part at the beginning, it seldom fails to be engaged in the end. The court, as we have mentioned before, was an entire scene of gallantry and amusements, with all the politeness and magnificence, which the inclinations of a prince, naturally addicted to tenderness and pleasure, could suggest ; the beau- ties were desirous of charming, and the men endeavoured to please ; all studied to set themselves oflf to the best advantage; some distinguished themselves by dancing ; others by show and magnificence ; some by their wit, many by their amours, but few by their constancy. There was a certain Italian at 174 MEMOIRS OF court, famous for the guitar; lie had a genius for music, and he was the only man who could make any thing of the guitar : his style of play was so full of grace and tenderness, that he would have given harmony to the most discordant instruments. The truth is, nothing was so diffi- cult as to play like this foreigner. The king's relish for his compositions had brought the instrument so much into vogue, that every person played upon it, well or ill ; and you were as sure to see a guitar on a lady's toilette, as rouge or patches. The Duke of York played upon it tolerably well, and the Earl of Arran like Francisco himself. This Francisco had composed a saraband, which either charmed or infatuated every person ; for the whole guitarery at court were trying at it, and God knows what an universal strumming there was. The Duke of York, pretending not to be perfect in it, desired Lord Arran to play it to him. Lady Chesterfield had the best guitar in England. The Earl of Arran, who was desirous of playing his best, conducted his royal highness to his sis- ter's apartments ; she was lodged at court, at her father's, the Duke of Ormond's, and this wonderful guitar was lodged there too. Whether this visit had been preconcerted or not, I do not pretend to say ; but it is certain that they found both the lady and the guitar at home ; they likewise found there Lord Chesterfield, so much surprised at this unexpected visit, that it was a considerable time before he thought of rising from his seat, to receive them with due respect. Jealousy, like a malignant vapour, now seized upon his brain ; a thousand suspicions, blacker than ink, took posses- sion of his imagination, and were continually increasing ; for whilst the brother played upon the guitar to the duke, the sister ogled and accompanied him with her eyes, as if the coast had been clear, and no enemy to observe them. This sara- band was at least repeated twenty times ; the duke declared I COUNT GRAMMONT. 175 it was played to perfection. Lady Chesterfield found fault with the composition ; but her husband, who clearly perceived that he was the person played upon, thought it a most detest- able j)iece. However, though he was in the last agony, at being obliged to curb his passion, while others gave a free scoj)e to theirs, he was resolved to find out the drift of the visit ; but it was not in his power ; for having the honour to be chamberlain to the queen, a messenger came to require his immediate attendance on her majesty. His first thought was to pretend sickness ; the second to suspect that the queen, who sent for him at such an unseasonable time, was in the plot ; but at last, after all the extravagant ideas of a suspicious man, and all the irresolutions of a jealous husbaud, he was obliged to go. AVe may easily imagine what his state of mind was when he arrived at the palace. Alarms arc to the jealous, what disasters are to the unfortunate : they seldom come alone, but form a series of persecution. He was informed that he was sent for to attend the queen at an audience she gave to seven or eiirht Muscovite ambassadors : he had scarce begun to curse the ]\Iuscovites, when his brother-in-law appeared, and drew upon himself all the imprecations he bestowed upon the embassy : he no longer doubted his being in the plot with the two persons he had left together ; and in his heart sin- cerely wished him such recompense for his good offices as such good offices deserved. It was with great difficulty that he restrained himself from immediately acquainting him what was his opinion of such conduct : he thought that what he had already seen was a sufficient proof of his wife's infidelity; but before the end of the very same day, some circumstances occurred, which increased his suspicions, and persuaded him, that they had taken advantage of his absence, and of the honourable officiousness of his brother-in-law. He passed. 176 MEMOIRS OP however, that night with tranquillity ; but the next morning, being reduced to the necessity either of bursting or giving vent to his sorrows and conjectures, he did nothing but think and walk about the room until Park-time. He went to court, seemed very busy, as if seeking for some person or other, imagining that people guessed at the subject of his uneasiness : he avoided every body ; but at length meeting with Hamilton, he thought he was the very man that he wanted ; and having desired him to take an airing with him in Hyde Park, he took him up in his coach, and they arrived at the Ring, without a word having passed between them. Hamilton, who saw him as yellow as jealousy itself, and particularly thoughtful, imagined that he had just discovered what all the world had perceived long before ; when Chester- field, after a broken insignificant preamble, asked him how he succeeded with Lady Castlemaine. Hamilton, who very well saw that he meant nothing by this question, nevertheless thanked him ; and as he was thinking of an answer : " Your cousin," said the earl, " is extremely coquettish, and I have some reason to suppose she is not so prudent as she ought to be." Hamilton thought the last charge a little too severe ; and as he was endeavouring to refute it : " Good God," said my lord, " you see, as well as the whole court, what airs she gives herself : husbands are always the last people that are spoken to about those afiairs that concern them the most ; but they are not always the last to perceive it themselves : though you have made me your confidant in other matters, yet I am not at all surprised you have concealed this from me ; but as I flatter myself with having some share in your esteem, I should be sorry you should think me such a fool as to be incapable of seeing, though I am so complaisant as not to express my sentiments : nevertheless, I find that aff'airs are now carried on with such barefaced boldness, that at length COUNT GRAMMONT. 177 I find I slifiU be forced to take some course or other. God forltid that I shouUl act the ridicidous jjart of a jealous hus- band : the character is odious; but then I do not intend, through an excess of patience, to bo made the jest of the town. Judge, therefore, from what I am going to tell you, whether I ought to sit down unconcerned, or whether I ought to take measures for the preservation of my honour. " His royal highness honoured me yesterday by a visit to my wife." Hamilton started at this beginning. " Yes," continued the other, " he did give himself that trouble, and Lord Arran took upon himself that of bringing him : do not you wonder that a man of his birth should act such a part ? AVhat advancement can he expect from one who employs him in such base services ? But Ave have long known him to be one of the silliest creatures in England, with his guitar, and his other whims and follies." Chesterfield, after this short sketch of his brother-in-law's merit, began to relate the obser- vations he had made during the visit, and asked Hamilton what he thought of his cousin Arran, who had so obligingly left them together. " This may appear surprising to you," continued he, " but hear me out, and judge whether I have reason to think that the close of this jiretty visit passed in perfect innocence. Lady Chesterfield is amiable, it must be acknowledged ; but she is far from being such a miracle of beauty as she supposes herself: you know she has ugly feet; but perhaps you are not acquainted that she has still worse legs." "Pardon me," said Hamilton, within himself: and the other continuing the description : " Her legs," said his lordship, " are short and thick ; and, to remedy these defects as much as possible, she seldom wears any other than green stockings." Hamilton could not for his life imagine the drift of all this discourse, and Chesterfield guessing his thoughts : " Have N 178 MEMOIRS OP a little patience," said he : "I went yesterday to Miss Stewart's, after tlie audience of those damned Muscovites : the king arrived there just before me ; and as if the duke had sworn to pursue me wherever I went that day, he came in just after me. The conversation turned upon the extra- ordinary appearance of ths ambassadors. I know not where that fool Crofts had heard that all these Muscovites had handsome wives ; and that all their wives had handsome legs. Upon this the king maintained, that no woman ever had such handsome legs as Miss Stewart ; and she, to prove the truth of his majesty's assertion, with the greatest imaginable ease, immediately shewed her leg above the knee. Some were ready to prostrate themselves, in order to adore its beauty ; for indeed none can be handsomer ; but the duke alone began to criticize upon it. He contended that it was too slender, and that as for himself he would give nothing for a leg that was not thicker and shorter, and concluded by saying, that no leg was worth any thing without green stock- ings : now this, in my opinion, was a sufficient demonstra- tion that he had just seen green stockings, and had them fresh in his remembrance." Hamilton was at a loss what countenance to put on, during a narrative which raised in him nearly the same con- jectures : he shrugged up his shoulders, and faintly said that appearances were often deceitful ; that Lady Chester- field had the foible of all beauties, who place their merit on the number of their admirers ; and whatever airs she might imprudently have given herself, in order not to discourage his royal highness, there was no ground to suppose that she would indulge him in any greater liberties to engage him : but in vain was it that he endeavoured to give that consola- tion to his friend which he did not feel himself. Chester- field plainly perceived he did not think of what he was COUNT GRAMMONT. 179 saying ; however, he thought himself much ohliged to him for the interest he seemed to take iu his concerns. Hamilton was in haste to go home to vent his si)lcon and resentment in a letter to his cousin : the style of this billet •was very ditferent from those which he formerly was accus- tomed to write to her : reproaches, bitter expostulations, tenderness, menaces, and all the effusions of a lover, who thinks he has reason to complain, comi)Osed this epistle ; which, for fear of accidents, he went to deliver nimself Never did she before appear so lovely, and never did lier eyes speak so kindly to him as at this moment : his heart quite relented ; but he was determined not to lose all the fine things he had said in his letter. In receiving it, she squeezed his hand : this action completely disarmed him, and he would have given his life to have had his letter again. It appeared to him at this instant, that all the grievances he complaineoak bold and offensive truths, and to do good otiices. When the Chevalier de Grammout reflected upon all these things, there certainly was strong ground for uneasiness : nor was the inditTerenco which Miss Hamilton shewed for the addresses of his rival sufficient to remove his fears ; for being absolutely dependent on her father's will, she could only an- swer for her own intentions : but Fortune, who seemed to have taken him under her protection in England, now delivered him from all his uneasiness. Talbot had for many years stood forward as the patron of the distressed Irish : this zeal for his countrymen was cer- tainly very commendable in itself; at the same time, however, it was not altojrcthcr free from self-interest : for, out of all the estates he had, through his credit, procured the restoration of to their primitive owners, he had always obtained some small compensation for himself ; but, as each owner found his advantage in it, no complaint was made. Nevertheless, as it is very difficult to use fortune and favour with moderation, and not to swell with the gales of prosperity, some of his pro- ceedings had an air of hauglitiness and independence, which of- fended the Duke of Ormond, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, as injurious to his graced authority.'^ The duke resented this behaviour with great spirit. As there certainly was a great difference between them, both as to their birth and rank, and to their credit, it had been prudent in Talbot to have bad 208 MEMOIRS OP recourse to apologies and submission ; but such conduct ap- peared to him base, and unworthy for a man of his import- ance to submit to : he accordingly acted with haughtiness and insolence ; but he was soon convinced of his error ; for, hav- ing inconsiderately launched out into some arrogant expres- sions, which it neither became him to utter, nor the Duke of Ormond to forgive, he was sent prisoner to the Tower, from whence he could not be released, until he had made all ne- cessary submissions to his grace : he therefore employed- all his friends for that purpose, and was obliged to yield more, to get out of this scrape, than would have been necessary to have avoided it. By this imprudent conduct, he lost all hopes of marrying into a family, which, after such a proceeding, was not likely to listen to any proposal from him. It was with great difficulty and mortification that he was obliged to suppress a passion, which had made far greater progress in his heart, than this quarrel had done good to his affairs. This being the case, he was of opinion that his pre- sence was necessary in Ireland, and that he was better out of the way of Miss Hamilton, to remove those impressions which still troubled his repose : his departure, therefore, soon fol- lowed this resolution. Talbot played deep, and was tolerably forgetful : the Che- valier de Grammont won three or four hundred guineas of him the very evening on which he was sent to the Tower. That accident had made him forget his usual punctuality in paying, the next morning, whatever he had lost over-night ; and this debt had so far escaped his memory, that it never once occurred to him after he was enlarged. The Chevalier de Grammont, who saw him at his departure, without taking the least no- tice of the money he owed him, wished him a good journey ; and, having met him at court, as he came to take his leave of the king : " Talbot," said he, " if my services can be of any COUNT GRAMMONT. 209 use to you, during your absence, you liavc but to coniinand them : you know, old Russell has left his nejdiew as his resi- dent with Miss Hamilton : if you please, I will act for you in the same capacity. Adieu, God bless you : be sure not to fall sick upon the road ; but if you should, pray remember me in your will." Talbot, who, upon this compliment, imme- diately recollected the money he owed the Chevalier, burst out a lau;,diing, and embracing him : " My dear Chevalier," said he, " I am so much obliged to you for your offer, that I resign you my mistress, and will send you your money in- stantly." The Chevalier de Grammont possessed a thousand of these geuteel ways of refreshing the memories of those per- sons who were apt to be forgetful in their payments. The following is the method he used some years after, with Lorrl Cornwall is :'-•♦ this lord had married the daughter of Sir Ste- phen Fox,'-'5 treasurer of the king's household, one of the richest aud most regular men in England. His son-in-law, on the contrary, was a young spendthrift, was very extravagant, loved gaming, lost as much as any one would trust him, but ■was not quite so ready at paying. His father-in-law disap- proved of his conduct, paid his debts, and gave him a lecture at the same time. The Chevalier de Grammont had won of him a thousand or twelve hundred guineas, which he heard no tidings of, although he was upon the eve of his departure, and he had taken leave of Cornwallis in a more particular manner than any other person. This obliged the Chevalier to write him a billet, which was rather laconic. It was this : " My Lord, " Pray remember the Count de Grammont, and do not for- get Sir Stephen Fox." To return to Talbot : he went away more concerned than became a man who had voluntarily resigned his mistress to p 210 MEMOIRS OF nn other : neither his stay in Ireland, nor his solicitude ahout his domestic affairs, perfectly cured him ; and if at his return he found himself disengaged from Miss Hamilton's chains, it was only to exchange them for others. The alteration that had taken place in the two courts occasioned this change in him, as we shall see in the sequel. We have hitherto only mentioned the queen's maida of honour, upon account of Miss Stewart and Miss Warmestre : the others were Miss Bellenden, Mademoiselle de la Garde, and Mademoiselle Bardou, all maids of honour, as it pleased God. Miss Bellenden was no beauty, but was a good-natured girl, whose chief merit consisted in being plump and fresh- coloured ; and who, not having a sufficient stock of wit to be a coquette in form, used all her endeavours to please every person by her complaisance. Mademoiselle de la Garde, and ]Mademoiselle Bardou, both French, had been preferred to their places by the queen dowager: the first was a little brunette, who was continually meddling in the affairs of her companions ; and the other by all means claimed the rank of a maid of honour, though she only lodged with the others, and both her title and services were constantly contested. It was hardly possible for a woman to be more ugly with so fine a shape ; but as a recompense, her ugliness was set off with every art. The use she was put to, was to dance with Flamarens, and sometimes, towards the conclusion of a ball, possessed of castanets and effrontery, she would dance some figured saraband or other, which amused the court. Let us now see in what manner this ended. As Miss Stewart was very seldom in waiting on the queen, she was scarcely considered as a maid of honour : the others went off almost at the same time, by different adventures ; COrNT GIIAMMONT. 211 and this is tlio history of 3Iis3 Warraestr6, wliuin wc have before mentioned, when speaking of the Chevalier de Grani- mont. Lord Taaffe,'^ eldest son of the Earl of Carlingford, was supposed to bo in luvo with her ; and ]Miss Warmestr6 not only imagined it was so, but likewise j)er.suadcd herself that ho would not fail to marry her the first opportunity ; and in the mean time, she thought it her duty to entertain him with all the civility imaginable. Taafle had made the Duke of Richmond his confidant : these two were particularly attached to each other ; but still more so to wine. The Duke of Rich- mond,^^ notwithstanding his birth, made but an indiflerent figure at court ; and the king respected him still less than his courtiers did : and perhaps it was in order to court his ^Majesty's favour, that he thought proj)er to fall in love with Miss Stewart. The duke and Lord TaafFe made each other the confidants of their respective engagements ; and these were the measures they took to put their designs in execution. Little Mademoiselle de la Garde '-^ was charged to acquaint Miss Stewart that the Duke of Richmond was dying of love for her, and that when he ogled her in jjublic, it was a c<;rtain sign that he was ready to marry her, as soon as ever she would consent. Taafie had no commission to give the little ambassadress for Miss Warmestre ; for there every thing was already arranged ; but she was charged to settle and provide some conveniences which were still wanting for the freedom of their commerce, such as to have free egress and regress to her at all hours of the day or night : this appeared difficult to be obtained, but it was, however, at length accomplished. The governess of the maids of honour, who for the world would not have connived at any thing that was not fair and honourable, consented that they should sup as often as they p2 212 MEMOIRS OF pleased in Miss TVarmestre's apartments, provided tlieir intentions were honourable, and she one of the company. The good old lady was particularly fond of green oysters, and had no aversion to Spanish wine : she was certain of finding at every one of these suppers two barrels of oysters ; one to be eaten with the party, and the other for her to carry away : as soon therefore as she had taken her dose of wine, she took her leave of the company. It was much about the time that the Chevalier de Gram- mont had cast his eyes upon Miss Warmestr^, that this kind of life was led in her chamber. God knows how many ham- pies, bottles of wine, and other products of his lordship's liberality, were there consumed ! In the midst of these nocturnal festivals, and of this innocent commerce, a relation of Killegrew's came up to London about a lawsuit : he gained his cause, but nearly lost his senses. He was a country gentleman, who had been a widower about six months, and was possessed of fifteen or sixteen thousand pounds a year : the good man, who had no busi- ness at court, went thither merely to see his cousin Killegrew, who could have dispensed with his visits. He there saw Miss Warmestr^; and at first sight fell in love with her. His passion increased to such a degree, that, having no rest either by day or night, he was obliged to have recourse to extra- ordinary remedies ; he therefore early one morning called upon his cousin Killegrew, told him his case, and desired him to demand Miss Warmestre in marriage for him. Killegrew was struck with wonder and astonishment when he heard his design : nor could he cease wondering at what sort of creature, of all the women in London, his cousin had resolved upon marrying. It was some time before Kille- grew could believe that he was in earnest ; but when he was COU>'T CnAMMONT. 213 convinced that he was, he hcii^au to enumerate the dangers and inconveniences attending so rash an enteq)rise. Uo told him, that a girl educated at court was a terrible piece of furniture for the country ; that to carry her thither against her inclination, would as effectually rob him of his happiness and repose, as if ho was transported to hell ; that if he con- sented to let her stay, he needed only compute what it would cost him in equipage, table, clothes, and gaming-money, to maintain her in London according to her caprices ; and then to cast up how long his fifteen thousand a year would last. His cousin had already formed this computation ; but, finding his reason less potent than his love, he remained fixed in his resolution ; and Killegrew, yielding at length to his importunities, went and offered his cousin, bound hand and foot, to the victorious fair. As he dreaded nothing more than a compliance on her part, so nothing could astonish him more than the contempt with which she received his proposal. The scorn with which she refused him made him believe that she was sure of Lord TaafTe, and wonder how a girl like her could find out two men who would venture to marry her. He hastened to relate this refusal, with all the most aggra- vating circumstances, as the best news he could carry to his cousin ; but his cousin would not believe him : he supposed that Killegrew disguised the truth, for the same reasons he had already alleged ; and not daring to mention the matter any more to him, he resolved to wait upon her himself. He summoned oJl his courage for the enterprise, and got his compli- ment by heart ; but as soon as he had opened his mcuth fur the purpose, she told him he might have saved himself the trouble of calling on her about such a ridiculous afiiur; that she had already given her answer to Killegrew; and that she neither had, nor ever should have, any other to give ; which 214 MEMOIRS OF words she accompanied with all the severity with which im- portunate demands are usually refused. He was more affected than confounded at this repulse : every thing became odious to him in London, and he himself more so than all the rest : he therefore left town, without taking leave of his cousin, went back to his country seat, and thinking it would be impossible for him to live without the inhuman fair, he resolved to neglect no opportunity in his power to hasten his death. But whilst, in order to indulge his sorrow, he had forsaken all intercourse with dogs and horses ; that is to say, renounced all the delights and endearments of a country squire, the scornful nymjih, who was certainly mistaken in her reckoning, took the liberty of being brought to bed in the face of the whole court. An adventure so public made no small noise, as we may very well imagine ; all the prudes at court at once broke loose upon it ; and those principally, whose age or persons secured them from any such scandal, were the most inveterate, and cried most loudly for justice. But the governess of the maids of honour, who might have been called to an account for it, affirmed, that it was nothing at all, and that she was pos- sessed of circumstances which would at once silence all cen- sorious tongues. She had an audience of the queen, in order to unfold the mystery; and related to her majesty how every thing had passed with her consent, that is to say, upon honour- able terms. The queen sent to inquire of Lord TaafFe, whether he acknowledged Miss Warmestre for his wife : to which he most respectfully returned for answer, that he neither acknowledged Miss Warmestre nor her child, and that he wondered why she should rather father it upon him than any other. The unfortu- COUNT GRAMMONT. 215 natc Waruicstre, more enraged at this answer than at the loss of such a lover, (juittcil the court as soon as ever she was ahle, with a resolution of quitting the world the first opportunity. Killegrew, being upon the point of setting out upon a jour- ney when this adventure happened, thought he might as well call upon his afUictcd cousin in his way, to acquaint him with the circumstance ; and as soon as he saw him, without paying any attention to the delicacy of his love, or to his feelings, he bluntly told him the whole stoiy : nor did he omit any colour- ing that could heighten his indignation, in order to make him burst with shame and resentment. ^"e read that the gentle Tiridatcs quietly expired upon the recital of the death of Mariamne ; but Kihegrew's fond cou- sin, falling devoutly upon his knees, and lifting up his eyes to heaven, poured forth this exclamation : " Praised be the Lord for a small misfortune, which per- haps may prove the comfort of my life ! AVho knows but the beauteous AVarmcstre will now accept of me for a husband ; and that I may have the happiness of passing the remainder of my days with a woman I adore, and by whom I may expect to have heirs?" "Certainly," said Killegrew, more confounded than his cousin ought to have been on such an occasion, " you may depend upon having both : I make no manner of doubt but she will marry you, as soon as ever she is recovered from her 13'ing-in ; and it would be great ill- nature in her, who already knows the way, to let you want children : however, in the mean time, I advise you to take that she has already, till you get more." Notwithstanding this raillery, all that was said did take place. This faithful lover courted her, as if she had been the chaste Lucretia, or the beauteous Helen : his passion even increased after marriage, and the generous fair, first out of 216' MEMOIRS OF gratitude, and afterwards through inclination, never brought him a child of which he was not the father ; and though there have been many a happy couple in England, this certainly was the happiest. Some time after, Miss Bellenden, not being terrified by this example, had the prudence to quit the court before she was obliged so to do : the disagreeable Bardou followed her soon after ; but for different reasons. Every person was at last completely tired of her saraband, as well as of her face ; and the king, that he might see neither of them any more, gave each a small pension for her subsistence. There now only remained little Mademoiselle de la Garde to be provided for : neither her virtues nor her vices were sufficiently conspicuous to occasion her being either dismissed from court, or pressed to remain there : God knows what would have become of her, if a Mr. Silvius,^-^ a man who had nothing of a Roman in him except the name, had not taken the poor girl to be his wife. We have now shewn how all these damsels deserved to be expelled, either for their irregularities, or for their ugliness ; and yet, those who replaced them found means to make them regretted. Miss Wells only excepted. She was a tall girl, exquisitely shaped : she dressed very genteel, walked like a goddess ; and yet her face, though made like those that generally please the most, was unfortu- nately one of those that pleased the least : nature had spread over it a certain careless indolence that made her look sheepish. This gave but a bad opinion of her wit ; and her wit had the ill-luck to make good that opinion : however, as she was fresh- coloured, and appeared inexperienced, the king, whom the fair Stewart did not render over nice as to the perfections of the mind, resolved to try whether the senses would not fare better with Miss Wells's person than fine sentiments with her COUNT GUAMMONT. 217 untlerstuniling : nor was this experiment attended with much difficulty : she was of a loyal family; and her father having faitlifully served Charles the First, she thought it her duty not to revolt against Charles the Second. But this connection was not attended with very advantageous circumstances for herself; some pretended that she did not hold out long enough, and that she surrendered at discretion before she was vigor- ously attacked ; and others said, that his majesty complained of certain other facilities still less pleasing. The Duke of Buckingham made a couplet upon this occasion, wherein the king, speaking to Progers,'^^ the confidant of his intrigues, puns upon the name of the fair one. Miss Wells, notwithstanding this species of anagram upon her name, and these remarks upon her person, shone the brightest among her new companions. These were Miss Levingstou, Miss Fielding, and Miss Boynton, who little deserve to be mentioned in these memoirs ; therefore we shall leave them in obscurity until it please fortune to draw them out of it. This was the new establishment of maids of honour to the queen. The Duchess of York, nearly about the same time likewise recruited hers ; but shewed, by a happier and more brilliant choice, that England possessed an inexhaustible stock of beauties. But before we begin to speak of thera, let us see who were the first maids of honour to her royal highness, and on what account they were removed. Besides Miss Blague and Miss Price, whom we have befoio mentioned, the establishment was composed of Miss Bagot and Miss liobart, the president of the community. Miss Blague, who never knew the true reason of her quarrel with the INIarquis de Brisacier, took it up upon that fatal letter she had received from him, wherein, without 218 MEMOIRS OF acquainting ter that Miss Price was to wear the same sort of gloves and yellow riband as herself, he had only compli- mented her upon her hair, her fair complexion, and her eyes marcassins. This Avord ^he imagined must signify some- thing particularly wonderful, since her eyes were compared to it ; and being desirous, some time afterwards, to know all the energy of the expression, she asked the meaning of the French word marcassin. As there are no wild boars in England, those to whom she addressed herself told her that it signified a young pig. This scandalous simile confirmed her in the belief she entertained of his perfidy. Brisacier, more amazed at her change, than she was offended at his supposed calumny, looked upon her as a woman still more capricious than insignificant, and never troubled himself more about her ; but Sir Yarborough, of as fair a com- plexion as herself, made her an ofier of marriage in the height of her resentment, and was accepted : chance made up this match, I suppose, as an experiment to try what such a white-haired union would produce. Miss Price was witty ; and as her person was not very likely to attract many admirers, which, however, she was resolved to have> she was far from being coy, when an occa- sion offered : she did not so much as make any terms : she was violent in her resentments, as well as in her attachments, which had exposed her to some inconveniences ; and she had very indiscreetly quarrelled with a young girl whom Lord Rochester admired. This connection, which till then had been a secret, she had the imprudence to publish to the whole world, and thereby drew upon herself the most dangerous enemy in the universe : never did any man write with more ease, humour, spirit, and delicacy; but he was at the same time the most severe satirist. COUNT GRAMMONT. 219 Poor Miss Price, who liiul tliu.s vuluntarily provoked h\s resentment, was daily exposed in some new shape : there wa.s every day some new song or other, the subject of which was her conduct, and the burden her name. How was it possible for her to bear up against these attacks, in a court, where every person was eager to obtain the most insignificant trifle that came from the pen of Lord Rochester ? The loss of her lover, and the discovery that attended it, were only wanting to complete the persecution that was raised against her. About this time died Dongan,'^' a gentleman of merit, who was succeeded by Durfort, afterwards Earl of Feversham,'^^ in the post of lieutenant of the duke's life-guards : Miss Price having tenderly loved him, his death plunged her into 1 gulf of despair ; but the inventory of his effects had almost deprived her of her senses : there was in it a certain little box sealed up on all sides : it was addressed in the deceased's own handwriting to Miss Price ; but instead of receiving it, she had not even the courage to look upon it. The governess thought it became her in prudence to receive it, on Miss Price's refusal, and her duty to deliver it to the duchess her- self, supposing it was filleil with many curious and precious connnoilities, of which perhaps she might make some advan- tage. Though the duchess was not altogether of the same opinion, she had the curiosity to see what was contained in a box sealed uj) in a manner so particularly careful, and therefore caused it to be opened in the presence of some ladies, who haj)pened then to bo in her closet. All kinds of love trinkets were found in it ; and all these favours, it appeared, came from the tender-hearted !Miss Price. It was difficult to comprehend how a single person could have furnished so great a collection ; for, besides counting the pictures, there was hair of all descriptions, wrought into bracelets, lockets, and into a thousand other different devices, 220 MEMOIRS OP wonderful to see. After these were three or four packets of letters of so tender a nature, and so full of raptures and lan- guors so naturally expressed, that the duchess could not endure the reading of any more than the two first. Her royal highness was sorry that she had caused the box to be opened in such good company ; for being before such witnesses, she rightly judged it was impossible to stifle this adventure ; and, at the same time, .there being no possibility of retaining any longer such a maid of honour, Miss Price had her valuables restored to her, with orders to go and finish her lamentations, or to console herself for the loss of her lover in some other place. Miss Hobart's character was at that time as uncommon in England, as her person was singular, in a country where, to be young, and not to be in some degree handsome, is a reproach : she had a good shape, rather a bold air ; and a great deal of wit, which was well cultivated, without having much discre- tion. She was likewise possessed of a great deal of vivacity, with an irregular fancy : there was a great deal of fire in her eyes, which, however, produced no effect upon the beholders ; and she had a tender heart, whose sensibility some pretended was alone in favour of the fair sex. Miss Bagot '^^ was the first that gained her tenderness and aSection, which she returned at first with equal warmth and sincerity ; but perceiving that all her friendship was insufficient to repay that of Miss Hobart, she yielded the conquest to the governess's niece, who thought herself as much honoured by it, as her aunt thought herself obliged by the care she took of the young girl. It was not long before the report, whether true or falee, of this singularity, spread through the whole court, where peo- ple, being yet so uncivilized as never to have heard of that kind of refinement in love of ancient Greece, imagined that COUNT GRAMMONT. 221 the illustrious Ilobart, who seemed so i)articuhrly attachoy fixing his desires upon sonic other object : but he saw no one in the tjueen's new court whom he thought worthy dl' his attention : jMiss Boynton,^-'^ liowever, thought him worthy of hers. Her person was slender and delicate, to which a good complexion, and large motionless eyes, gave at a dis- tance an appearance of beauty, that vanished upon nearer inspection : she affected to lisp, to languish, and to have two or three fainting-fits a day. The first time that Talbot cast his eyes upon her, she was seized with one of these fits : he was told that she swooned away upon his account : he believed it, was eager to afford her assistance ; and ever after that accident, shewed her some kindness, more with the intention of saving her life, than to express any affection he felt for her. This seeming tenderness w\is well received, and at first she was visibly affected by it. Talbot was one of the tallest men in England, and in all appearance one of the most robust ; yet she shewed sufficientl}'^, that she was willing to expose the delicacy of her constitution to whatever might happen, in order to become his wife ; which event perhaj)S might then have taken place, as it did afterwards, had not the charms of the fair Jennings, at that time, proved an obstacle to her wishes. I know not how it came to j)as3 that he had not yet seen her ; though he had heard her much praised, and her prudence, wit, and vivacity, equally commended ; he believed all this upon the faith of common report. He thought it very singular that discretion and sprightliness should be so inti- mately united in a person so young, more particularly in the midst of a court, where love and gallantry wore so much in fashion ; but he found her personal accomplidnnents greatly to exceed whatever fame had reported of them. As it was not long before he perceived he was in love. 248 MEMOIRS OP neither was it long before he made a declaration of it : as his passion was likely enough to be real, Miss Jennings thought she might believe him, without exposing herself to the imputation of vanity. Talbot was possessed of a fine and brilliant exterior, his manners were noble and majestic : besides this, he was particularly distinguished by the favour and friendship of the duke ; but his most essential merit, with her, was his forty thousand pounds a year, landed pro- perty, besides his employments. All these qualities came within the rules and maxims she had resolved to follow with respect to lovers : thus, though he had not the satisfaction to obtain from her an entire declaration of her sentiments, he had at least the pleasure of being better received than those who had paid their addresses to her before him. No person attempted to interrupt his happiness ; and Miss Jennings perceiving that the duchess approved of Talbot's pretensions, and after having well weighed the matter, and consulted her own inclinations, found that her reason was more favourable to him than her heart, and that the most she could do for his satisfaction was to marry him without reluctance. Talbot, too fortunate in a preference which no man had before experienced, did not examine whether it was to her heart, or to her head, that he was indebted for it, and his thoughts were solely occupied in hastening the accomplish- ment of his wishes : one would have sworn that the happy minute was at hand ; but love would no longer be love, if he did not delight in obstructing, or in overturning, the happi- ness of those who live under his dominion. Talbot, who found nothing reprehensible either in the person, in the conversation, or in the reputation of Miss Jen- nings, was however rather concerned at a new acquaintance she had lately formed ; and having taken upon him to give her COUNT GRAMMONT. 219 some cautions upon this subject, she was much displeased at his conduct. Miss Price, formerly maid of honour, that had been set aside, as we have before mentioned, upon her leaving the duchess's service, had recourse to Lady Castlemaine's protec- tion : she had a very entertaining wit : her complaisance was adapted to all humours, and her own humour was pos- sessed of a fund of gaiety and sprightliness, which diflused universal mirth and merriment wherever she came. Iler acquaintance with ^liss Jennings was prior to Talbot's. As she was thoroughly acquainted with all the intrigues of the court, she related them without any manner of reserve to Miss -Jennings, and her own with the same frankness as the others : IMiss Jennings was extremely well pleased with her stories ; for though she was determined to make no experiment in love, but upon honourable terms, she however was desirous of knowing from her recitals, all the different intrigues that were carrying on : thus, as she was never wearied with her conversation, she was overjoyed whenever she could see her. Talbot, who remarked the extreme relish she had for Miss Price's company, thought that the reputation such a woman had in the world might prove injurious to his mistress, more especially from the particular intimacy there seemed to exist between them : whereupon, in the tone of a guardian, rather than a lover, he took upon him to chide her for the disrepu- table company she kept. ]\Iiss -Jennings was haughty beyond conception, when once she took it into her head ; and as she liked Miss Price's conversation much better than Talbot's, she took the liberty of desiring him " to attend to his own affairs, and that if he only came from Ireland to read lectures about her conduct, he might take the trouble to go back as soon as he pleased." He was offended at a sally which he thought ill-timed, considering the situation of affairs between them : 2.50 MEJMOIRS OP and went out of" her presence more abruptly than became the respect due from a man greatly in love. He for some tim*? appeared offended ; but perceiving that he gained nothing by such conduct, he grew weary of acting that part, and assumed that of an humble lover, in which he was equally unsuccessful: neither his repentance nor submissions could produce any ef- fect upon her, and the mutinous little gipsy was still in her pouts, when Jermyn returned to court. It was above a year since he had triumphed over the weak- ness of Lady Castlemaine, and above two since the king had been weary of his triumphs. His uncle, being one of the first who perceived the king's disgust, obliged him to absent himself from court, at the very time that orders were going to be issued for that purpose ; for though the king's affections for Lady Castlemaine were now greatly diminished, jet he did not think it consistent with his dignity, that a mistress, whom he had honoured with public distinction, and who still received a considerable support from him, should appear chained to the car of the most ridiculous conqueror that ever existed. His majesty had frequently expostulated with the countess upon this subject; but his expostulations were never attended to ; it was in one of these differences, that he, ad- vising her rather to bestow her favours upon Jacob Hall, the rope-dancer, who was able to return them, than lavish away her money upon Jermyn to no purpose, since it would be more honourable for her to pass for the mistress of the first, than for the very humble servant of the other, she was not proof against his raillery. The impetuosity of her temper broke forth like lightning. She told him, " that it very ill became him to throw out such reproaches against one, who, of all the women in England, deserved them the least; that he had never ceased quarrelling thus unjustly with her, ever since he had betrayed his own mean low inclinations ; that to gratify COUNT GRAMMONT. 251 pucli a dcpravcil taste as liis, he wanted only sncli silly things as Stewart, Wells, and that jntiful t-tiolling actress,''*'^ whom he had lately introduced into their society." Floods of tears, from rage, generally attended these storms ; after which, re- suming the part of Medea, the scene closed with menaces of tearing her children in pieces, and setting his palace on fire. What course could he pursue Avith such an outrageous fury, who, beautiful as she was, resembled !Medea less than her dragons, when she was thus enraged ! The indulgent monarch loved peace ; and as he seldom con- tended for it, on these occasions, without paying something to obtain it, he was obliged to be at great expense, in order to reconcile this last rupture : as they could not agree of them- selves, and both parties c(jually complained, the Chevalier de Grammont was chosen, by mutual consent, mediator of the treaty. The grievances and pretensions on each side were communicated to him, and what is very extraordinary, he managed so as to please them both. Here follow the articles of peace, which they agreed to : " That Lady Castlemaine should for ever abandon Jcrmyn ; that as a proof of her sincerity, and the reality of his disgrace, she should consent to his being sent, for some time, into the country ; that she should not rail any more against Miss Wells, nor storm any more against INIiss Stewart ; and this without any restraint on the king's behaviour towards her : that in consideration of these condescensions, his majesty should im- mediately give her the title of duchess,^"*' with all the honours and privileges thereunto belonging, and an addition to her pension, in order to enable her to support the dignity." As soon as this peace was proclaimed, the political critics, who, in all nations, never fail to censure all state proceed- ings, pretended that the mediator of this treaty, being every day at play with Lady Castlemaine, and never losing, had, 252 MEMOIRS OF for his own sake, insisted a little too strongly upon this last article. Some days after, she was created Duchess of Cleveland, and little Jermyn repaired to his country-seat : however, it was in his power to have returned in a fortnight ; for the Chevalier de Grammont, having procured the king's permis- sion, carried it to the Earl of Saint Alban's : this revived the good old man ; but it was to little purpose he transmitted it to his nephew ; for whether he wished to make the London beauties deplore and lament his absence, or whether he wished them to declaim against the injustice of the age, or rail against the tyranny of the prince, he continued above half a year in the country, setting up for a little philosopher, under the eyes of the sportsmen in the neighbourhood, who regarded him as an extraordinary instance of the caprice of fortune. He thought the part he acted so glorious, that he would have con- tinued there much longer had he not heard of Miss -Jennings : he did not, however, pay much attention to what his friends writ to him concerning her charms, being persuaded he had seen equally as great in others : what was related to him of her pride and resistance, appeared to him of far greater con- sequence ; and to subdue the last, he even looked upon as an action worthy of his prowess ; and quitting his retreat for this purpose, he arrived in London at the time that Talbot, who was really in love, had quarrelled, in his opinion, so unjustly with Miss Jennings. She had heard Jermyn spoken of, as a hero in affairs of love and gallantry. Miss Price, in the recital of those of the Duchess of Cleveland, had often mentioned him, without in any respect diminishing the insignificancy with which fame insinuated he had conducted himself in those amorous encounters : she nevertheless had the greatest curiosity to see a man, whoso entire person, she thought,, must be a moving COUNT GRAMMOiNT. 253 trophy, iiud monument of tlio favours and frccdom.s of the fair sex. Thus Jormyn arrived at the right time to satisfy her curiosity l»y his presence ; and though his hrilliancy appeared a little tarnished, by his residence in the country ; though his head was larger, and his legs more slender than usual, yet the giddy girl thought she had never seen any man so perfect ; and yielding to her destiny, she fell in love with him, a thousand times more unaccountably than all the others had done before her. Every body remarked this change of con- duct in her with surprise ; for they expected something more from the delicacy of a person, who, till this time, had behaved with so much propriety in all her actions. Jermyn was not in the least surprised at this conquest, though not a little proud of it ; for his heart had very soon as great a share in it as his vanity. Talbot, who saw with amazement the rapidity of this triumph, and the disgrace of his own defeat, was ready to die with jealousy and spite ; yet he thought it would be more to his credit to die, than to vent those passions unprofitably ; and shielding himself under a feigned indiflcrcnce, he kept at a distance to view how far such an extravagant prepossession would proceed. In the mean time, Jermyn quietly enjoyed the happiness of seeing the inclinations of the prettiest and most extraordinary creature in England declared in his favour. The duchess, who had taken her under her protection, ever since she had declined placing herself under that of the duk«;, sounded Jermyn's intentions towards her, and was sa<'isfied with the assurances she received from a man, whose probity intinitely exceeded his merit in love : he therefore '«et all the court see that he was willing to marry her, th'>v..gh, at the same time, he did not appear particularly desirous of hastening the con- summation. Every person now complimented Miss Jennings 254 MEMOIRS OP upoa having reduced to this situation the terror of husbands, and the plague of lovers : the court was in full expectation of this miracle, and Miss Jennings of a near approaching happy settlement ; but in this Avorld one must have fortune in one's favour, before one can calculate with certainty upon happiness. The king did not use to let Lord Rochester remain so long in exile : he grew weary of it, and being displeased that he was forgotten, he posted up to London to wait till it might be his majesty's pleasure to recall him. He first took up his habitation in the city, among the capital tradesmen and rich merchants, where politeness indeed is not so much cultivated as at court ; but where pleasure, luxury, and abundance reign with less confusion, and more sincerity. His first design was only to be initiated into the mysteries of those fortunate and happy inhabitants ; that is to say, by changing his name and dress, to gain admittance to their feasts and entertainments ; and, as occasion offered, to those of their loving spouses : as he was able to adapt himself to all capacities and humours, he soon deeply insinuated himself into the esteem of the substantial wealthy aldermen, and into the affections of their more delicate, magnificent, and tender ladies : he made one in all their feasts, and at all their assemblies ; and, whilst in the company of the husbands he declaimed against the faults and mistakes of government, he joined their wives in railing against the profligacy of the court ladies, and in inveighing against the king's mistresses : he agreed with them, that the industrious poor were to pay for these cursed extravagances ; that the city beauties were not inferior to those of the other end of the town, and yet a sober husband in this quarter of the town was satisfied with one wife ; after which, to out-do their murmurings, he said, that he wondered Whitehall was not yet consumed by COUNT CnAMMONT. 255 lire from heaven, since such rakes as Rochester, Kille^'rew, and Sidney were suffered there, who had the impudence to assert, that all the married men in the city were cuckolds, and all their wives painted. This conduct endeared him so much to the cits, and made him so welcome at their clubs, that at last he grew sick of their cramming and endless invitations. But, instead of approaching nearer the court, he retreated into one of the most obscure corners of the city ; where, again changing both his name and his dress, in order to act a new part, he caused bills to be dispersed, giving notice, of " The recent arrival of a famous German doctor, who, by long application and experience, had found out wonderful secrets, and infallible remedies." •'•^ Ilis secrets consisted in knowing what was past, and foretelling what was to come, by the assistance of astrology : and the virtue of his remedies prin- cipally consisted in giving present relief to unfortunate young women in all manner of diseases, and all kinds of accidents incident to the fair sex, either from too unbounded charity to their neighbours, or too great indulgence to themselves. His first practice being confined to his neighbourhood, was not very considerable ; but his reputation soon extending to the other end of the town, there presently flocked to him the women attending on the court, next, the chambermaids of ladies of quality, who, upon the wonders they related con- cerning the German doctor, were soon followed by some of their mistresses. Among all the compositions of a ludicrous and satirical kind, there never existed any that could be compared to those of Lord Rochester, either for humour, fire, or wit ; but, of all his works, the most ingenious and entertaining is that which contains a detail of the intrigues and adventures in which ne 256 MEMOIRS OF was engaged, while he professed medicine and astrology in the suburbs of London. The fair Jennings was very near getting a place in this collection ; but the adventure that prevented her from it, did not, however, conceal from the public her intention of paying a visit to the German doctor. The first chambermaids that consulted him were only those of the maids of honour ; who had numberless questions to Jisk, and not a few doubts to be resolved, both upon their own and their mistresses' accounts. Notwithstanding their dis- guise, he recognized some of them, particularly Miss Temple's and Miss Price's maids, and her whom Miss Hobart had lately discarded: these creatures all returned either filled with wonder and amazement, or petrified with terror and fear. Miss Temple's chambermaid deposed, that he assured her, she would have the small-pox, and her mistress the great, within two months at farthest, if her aforesaid mistress did not guard against a man in woman's clothes. Miss Price's woman affirmed, that, without knowing her, and only look- ing in her hand, he told her at first sight, that, according to the course of the stars, he perceived that she was in the ser- vice of some good-natured lady, who had no other fault than loving wine and men. In short, every one of them, struck with some particular circumstance relating to their own pri- vate affairs, had either alarmed or diverted their mistresses with the account, not failing, according to custom, to embellish the truth, in order to enhance the wonder. Miss Price, relating these circumstances one day to her new friend, the devil immediately tempted her to go in person, and see what sort of a creature this new magician was. This enterprise was certainly very rash ; but nothing was too rash for Miss Jennings, who was of opinion that a woman might I COUNT GRAMMONT 2^7 despise appearances, prfr m so danirorous a j)l.icc ; and taking her companion un73 Muskcrry accc})tiiig tlic offer, tlie loniedy liad its desired effect, aud entirely removed every remembranco of her late mi.shap. Whilst these things were passing at the king's court, that of the Duke of York took a journey on the other side of London : the pretence of this journey was to visit the county whose name he bore; but love was the real motive. '^^ The duchess, since her elevation, had conducted herself with such prudence and circumsi^ection, as could not be sufficiently admired : such were her manners, and such the general esti- mation in which she was held, that she appeared to have found out the secret of pleasing every one ; a secret yet more rare than the grandeur to which she had been raised : but, after having gained universal esteem, she was desirous of being more particularly beloved ; or, more properly speaking, malicious Cupid assaulted her heart, in spite of the discretion, prudence, and reason with which she had fortified it. In vain had she said to herself a hundred times, that, if the duke had been so kind as to do her justice by falling in love with her, he had done her too much honour by making her his wife ; that, with respect to his inconstant disposition, which estranged him from her, she ought to bear it with patience, until it pleased heaven to produce a change in his conduct ; that the frailties on his part, which might to her appear injurious, would never justify in her the least devia- tion from her duty ; and, as resentment was still less allow- able, she ought to endeavour to regain him by a conduct entirely opposite to his own. In vain was it, as we have said before, that she had long resisted Love and his emissa- ries by the help of these maxims : how solid soever reason, and however obstinate wisdom and virtue may be, there are yet certain attacks which tire by their length, and, in tne end, subdue both reason and virtue itself. 274 MEMOIRS OF The Duchess of York was one of the highest feeders in England : as this was an unforbidden pleasure, she indulged herself in it, as an indemnification for other self-denials. It -was really an edifying sight to see her at table. The duke, on the contrary, being incessantly in the hurry of new fan- cies, exhausted himself by his inconstancy, and was gradually wasting away ; whilst the poor princess, gratifying her good appetite, grew so fat and plump, that it was a blessing to see her. It is not easy to determine how long things would have continued in this situation, if Love, who was resolved to have satisfaction for her late conduct, so opposite to the former, had not employed artifice, as well as force, to disturb her repose. He at first let loose upon her resentment and jealousy, two mortal enemies to all tranquillity and happiness. A tall creature, pale-faced, and nothing but skin and bone, named Churchill, '•''^ whom she had taken for a maid of honour, became the object of her jealousy, because she was then the object of the duke's affection. The court was not able to comprehend how, after having been in love with Lady Chesterfield, Miss Hamilton, and Miss Jennings, he could have any inclination for such a creature ; but they soon perceived that something more than unaccountable variety had a gi-eat share in effecting this conquest. The duchess beheld with indignation a choice which seemed to debase her own merit in a much greater degree than any of the former ; at the very instant that indignation and jear- lousy began to provoke her spleen, perfidious Cupid threw in the way of her passions and resentments the amiable, handsome Sidney ; and, whilst he kept her eyes fixed upon his personal perfections, diverted her attention from perceiv- ing the deficiency of his mental accomplishments: she was wounded before she was aware of her danger ; but the good COUNT GRA.MMONT. 27.-» opinion Sidney had of his own merit did not suffer him Ion" to be iirnorant of such a glorious concjnest ; and, in order more efiectually to secure it, his eyes rashly answered every thing which those of her royal highness had the kindness to tell him, whilst bis personal accomplishments were carefully heightened by all the advantages of dress and show. The duchess, foreseeing the consequences of such an en- gagement, strongly combated the inclination that hurried her away; but Miss Ilobart, siding with that inclination, argued the matter with her scruples, and, in the end, really van- quished them. This girl had insinuated herself into her royal highness's confidence by a fund of news with which she was provided the whole year round : the court and the city sup- plied her ; nor was it very material to her whether her stories were true or false, her chief care being that they should prove agreeable to her mistress : she knew, likewise, how to gratify her palate, and constantly provided a variety of those dishes and liquors which she liked best. These qualifications had rendered her necessary ; but, desirous of being still more so, and having perceived both the airs that Sidney gave himself, and what was passing in the heart of her mistress, the cunning ITobart took the liberty of telling her royal highness, that this unfortunate youth was pining away solely on her account ; that it was a thousand pities a man of his figure should lose the respect for her which was most certainly her due, merely because she had reduced him to such a state, that he could no longer preserve it ; that he was gradually dying away on her account in the sight of the whole court ; that his situation would soon be generally remarked, except she made use of the proi)er means to prevent it ; that, in her opinion, her royal highness ought to pity the miserable situation into which her charms had reduced him, and to endeavour to alle- viate his pain in some way or other. The duchess asked her T 2 276 MEMOIRS OP what she meant by "endeavouring to alleviate his pain in some way or other." " I mean, Madam," answered Miss Hobart, " that, if either his person be disagreeable, or his pas- sion troublesome, you will give him his discharge ; or, if you choose to retain him in your service, as all the princesses in the world would do in your place, you will permit me to give him directions from you for his future conduct, mixed with a few grains of hope, to prevent his entirely losing his senses, until you find a proper occasion yourself to acquaint him with your wishes." " What ! " said the duchess, " would you ad- vise me, Hobart, you, who really love me, to engage in an affair of this nature, at the expense of my honour, and the hazard of a thousand incouA'eniences ? If such frailties are sometimes excusable, they certainly are not so in the high station in which I am placed : and it would be an ill requital, on my part, for his goodness, who raised me to the rank I now fill, to " " All this is very fine," interrupted Miss Hobart ; " but, is it not very well known, that he only mar- ried you because he was importuned so to do ? Since that I refer to yourself, whether he has ever restrained his incli- nation a single moment, giving you the most convincing proofs of the change that has taken place in his heart, by a thousand provoking infidelities ? Is it still your intention to persevere in a state of indolence and humility, whilst the duke, after having received the favours, or suffered the re- pulses of all the coquettes in England, pays his addresses to the maids of honour, one after the other, and at present places his whole ambition and desires in the conquest of that ugly skeleton, Churchill ? What ! Madam, must then your prime of life be spent in a sort of widowhood, in deploring your mis- fortunes, without ever being permitted to make use of any remedy that may offer ? A woman must be endowed with insuperable patience, or with an inexhaustible degree of resig- COUNT GHAMMONT. 277 nation, to boar this. Can a husband, who disregards you both night and day, really suppose, because his wife eats and drinks heartily, as, God be thanked, your royal highness does, that she wants nothing else than to sleep well too ? Faith, such conduct is too bad : I therefore once more repeat, that there is not a princess in the universe who would refuse the homage of a man like Sidney, when a husband pays his addresses elsewhere." These reasons were certainly not morally good ; but had they been still worse, the duchess would have yielded to them, so much did her heart act in concert with Miss Ilobart, to overthrow her discretion and prudence. This intrigue began at the very time that jMiss Hobart advised Miss Temple not to give any encouragement to the addresses of the handsome Sidney. As for him, no sooner was he informed, by the confidant Hobart, that the goddess accepted his adoration, than he immediately began to be par- ticularly reserved and circumspect in his behaviour, in order to divert the attention of the public ; but the public is not to easily deceived as some people imagine. As there were too many spies, too many inquisitive people, and critics, in a numerous court, residing in the midst of a populous city, the duchess, to avoid exposing the inclinations of her heart to the scrutiny of so many inquisitors, engaged the Duke of York to undertake the journey before mentioned, whilst the queen and her court were at Tunbridge. This conduct was prudent ; and, if agreeable to her, was far from displeasing to any of her court, except Miss Jen- nings : Jermyn was not of the party ; and, in her opinion, every party was insipid in which he was not one of the com- pany. He had engaged himself in an enterprise above his strength, in laying a wager, which the Chevalier de Grammont had laid before, and lost : he betted five hundred guineas, that 278 MEMOIRS OF he would ride twenty miles in one hour upon the same horse in the high road. The day he had fixed upon for this race was the very same in which Miss Jennings went to the for- tune-teller's. Jermyn was more fortunate than her in this undertaking. He came off victorious ; but as his courage had far exceeded the strength of his constitution, in this exertion to win the wager, he got a violent fever into the bargain, which brought him very low. Miss Jennings inquired after his health ; but that was all she dared to do. In modern romances, a princess need only pay a visit to some hero, abandoned by his physi- cians, a perfect cure would be wrought in three days ; but since Miss Jennings had not been the cause of Jermyn's fever, she was not certain of relieving him from it, although she had been sure that a charitable visit would not have been censured in a malicious court. Without therefore paying any attention to the uneasiness she might feel upon the occasion, the court set out without him. She had, however, the gratification to testify her ill-humour throughout the whole journey, by ap- Ijearing displeased with every thing which seemed to afford satisfaction to all the rest of the company. Talbot made one of the company ; and flattering himself, that the absence of a dangerous rival might produce some change in his favour, he was attentive to all the actions, mo- tions, and even gestures, of his former mistress. There was certainly enough fully to employ his attention. It was con- trary to her disposition to remain long in a serious humour. Her natural vivacity hurried her away, from being seemingly lost in thought, into sallies of wit, which afforded him hopes that she would soon forget Jermyn, and remember that his own passion was the first she had encouraged. However, he kept his distance, notwithstanding his love and his hopes, being of opinion, that it ill became an injured lover to betray either the COUNT GUAMMO.NT. 279 least weakness, or the smallest return of aflection, for aii ungrateful mistress, who Lad deserted him. Miss Jennings was so far from thinking of his resentments, that she did not even recollect he had ever paid his addresses to her ; and her thoughts heing wholly occupied upon the poor sick man, she conducted herself towards Talbot, as if they never had had any thing to say to each other It was to him that she most usually gave her hand, either in getting into or out of the coach ; she conversed more readily with him than any other person, and, without intending it, did every thing to make the court believe she was cured of her passion for Jermyn in favour of her former lover. Of this he seemed likewise convinced, as well as the rest ; and thinking it now proper to act another part, in order to let her know that his sentiments with respect to her were still the same, he had resolved to address her in the most tender and affectionate manner upon this subject. Fortune seemed to have favoured him, and to have smoothed the way for his intended harangue : he was alone with her in her chamber ; and, what was still better, she was rallying him concerning Miss Boynton ; saying, " that they were undoubtedly much obliged to him, for attending them on their journey, whilst poor Miss Boynton had fainting-fits at Tunbridge, at least twice every day, for love of him." Upon this discourse, Tal- bot thou'^ht it rijrht to befrin the recital of his suflcrings and fidelity, when JMiss Temple, with a j)aper in her hand, entered the room. This was a letter in verse, which Lord Rochester had written some time before, upon the intrigues of the two courts ; wherein, upon the subject of 3 iss Jennings, he said : " that Talbot had struck terror among the people of God, by his gigantic stature ; but that Jermyn, like a little David, had vanquished the great Goliath." Jennings, delighted with thia allusion, read it over two or three times, thought it more en- 280 MEMOIRS OP tertaining than Talbot's conversation, at first heartily laughed at it, but soon after, with a tender air, " poor little David ! " said she, with a deep sigh, and turning her head on one side during this short reverie, she shed a few tears, which assuredly did not flow for the defeat of the giant. This stung Talbot to the quick ; and, seeing himself so ridiculously deceived in his hopes, he went abruptly out of the room, vowing never to think any more of a giddy girl, whose coruduct was regulated neither by sense nor reason ; but he did not keep his resolution. The other votaries of love, who were numerous in this court, were more successful, the journey being undertaken solely on that account. There were continual balls and entertainments upon the road ; hunting, and all other diver- sions, wherever the court halted in its progress. The tender lovers flattered themselves with the thought of being able to crown their happiness as they proceeded in their journey ; and the beauties who governed their destiny did not forbid them to hope. Sidney paid his court with wonderful assi- duity. The duchess made the duke take notice of his late perfect devotion to his service : his royal highness observed it, and agreed that he ought to be remembered upon the first opportunity, which happened soon after. Montagu, as before mentioned, was master of the horse to the duchess : he was possessed of a great deal of wit, had much penetration, and loved mischief. How could she bear such a man near her person, in the present situation of her heart ? This greatly embarrassed her ; but Montagu's elder brother^^"' having, very a-propos, got himself killed where he had no business, the duke obtained for Montagu the post -of master of the horse to the queen, which the deceased enjoyed ; and the handsome Sidney was appointed to succeed him in the same employment to the duchess. All this happened according to her wish ; and the duke was highly pleased that COUNT GRAMMONT. 281 he li:ul found means to promote these two gentlemen at once, without being at the least expense. Miss Ilobart greatly applauded these promotions : she had frequent and long conversations with Sidney, which, being remarked, some did her the honour to believe it was upon her own account ; and the compliments that were made her upon the occasion she most willinirly received. The duke, who believed it at first, observed to the duchess the unaccountable taste of certain persons, and how the handsomest young fellow in Enon as handsome, were now entirely forgotten at court; and all the gay anroj>os :'^' her person was full of charms, and her 296 MEMOIRS OF mind possessed all those perfections in which the handsome Monmouth was deficient. New festivals and entertainments celebrated this marriage : the most effectual method to pay court to the king, was to outshine the rest in brilliancy and grandeur ; and whilst these rejoicings brought forward all manner of gallantry and magni- ficence, they either revived old, or established new amours. The fair Stewart, then in the meridian of her glory, attracted all eyes, and commanded universal respect and admiration : the Duchess of Cleveland endeavoured to eclipse her at this fete, by a load of jewels, and by all the artificial ornaments of dress ; but it was in vain : her face looked rather thin and pale, from the commencement of a third or fourth pregnancy, which the king was still pleased to place to his own account ; and, as for the rest, her person could in no respect stand in com- petition with the grace and beauty of Miss Stewart. It was during this last effort of her charms, that she would have been queen of England, had the king been as free to give his hand as he was to surrender his heart ; for it was at this time that the Duke of Richmond took it into his head either to marry her, or to die in the attempt. A few months after the celebration of the Duke of Mon- mouth's nuptials, Killegrew,'^^ having nothing better to do, fell in love with Lady Shrewsbury ; and, as Lady Shrewsbury, by a very extraordinary chance, had no engagement at that time, their amour was soon established. No one thought of interrupting an intimacy which did not concern anyone; but Killegrew thought proper to disturb it himself: not that his happiness fell short of his expectation, nor did possession put him out of love with a situation so enviable ; but he was amazed that he was not envied, and offended that his good for- tune raised him no rivals. COUNT GRAMMONT. 207 IIo possessed a great deal of wit, and still more eloquence, which most particularly displayed itself when he was a little elevated with the juice of the grape : ho then indulged himself in giving luxurious descriptions of Lady Shrewsbury's most secret chai-ms and beauties, which above half the court were as well ac(piainted with as himself. The Duke of Buckingham was one of those who could only judge from outwartl a])pearanccs ; and appearances, in his opinion, did not seem to promise any thing so exquisite as the extravagant praises of Killegrew would infer. As this indis- creet lover was a frequent guest at the Duke of Buckingham's table, ho was continually employing his rhetoric on this sub- ject, and he had full opportunity for his harangues ; for they generally sat down to dinner at four o'clock, and only rose just in time for the play in the evening. The Duke of Buckingham, whose ears were continually deafened with descriptions of Lady Shrewsbury's merits, re- solved at last to examine into the truth of the matter him- self: as soon as he had made the experiment, he was satis- fied ; and, though he fancied that fame did not exceed the truth, yet this intrigue began in such a manner, that it was generally believed its duration would be short, considering the fickleness of both parties, and the vivacity with which they had engaged in it : nevertheless no amour in England ever continued so long. The imprudent Killegrew, who could not be satisfied with- out rivals, was obliged, in the end, to be satisfied without a mistress : this he bore very impatiently ; but so far was Lady Shrewsbury from hearkening to, or aff'ording any re- dress for, the grievances at first complained of, that she pre- tended even not to know him. His spirit could not brook such treatment ; and, without ever considering that he was the author of his own disgrace, he let loose all his abusive 298 MEMOIRS OF eloquence against lier ladyship : he attacked her with the most bitter invectives from head to foot : he drew a frightful picture of her conduct ; and turned all her personal charms, which he used to extol, into defects. He was privately warned of the inconveniences to which these declamations might subject him, but despised the advice, and, persisting, he soon had reason to repent it. As he was returning one evening from the Duke of York's apartments at St. James's, three passes with a sword were made at him through his chair, one of which went entirely through his arm. Upon this, he was sensible of the danger to which his intemperate tongue had exposed him, over and above the loss of his mistress. The assassins made their escape across the Park, not doubting but they had despatched him. Killegrew thought that all complaints would be useless ; for what redress from justice could he expect for an attempt of which his wounds were his only evidence ? And, besides, he was convinced that if he began a prosecution founded upon appearances and conjectures, the parties concerned would take the shortest and most effectual means to put a stop to all inquiries upon the subject, and that their second attempt would not prove ineffectual. Being desirous, there- fore, of deserving mercy from those who had endeavoured to assassinate him, he no longer continued his satires, and said not a word of the adventure. The Duke of Buckingham and Lady Shrewsbury remained for a long period both happy and contented : ^^^ never before had her constancy been of so long a duration ; nor had he ever been so submissive and respect- ful a lover. This continued until Lord Shrewsbury, who never before had shewn the least uneasiness at his lady's misconduct, thought proper to resent this : it was public enough, indeed, COUNT GRAMMONT. 21)9 but less dishonouraltlo to her than any of her former in- trigues. Poor Lord Shrewsbury, too polite a man to make any reproaches to his wife, was resolved to have redress for his injured honour : he accordingly challenged the Duke of Buckingham ; and the Duke of Buckingliam, as a reparation for his honour, having killed him upon the spot, remained a peaceable possessor of this famous Helen. The public was at first shocked at the transaction ; but the public grows fami- liar with every thing by habit, and by degrees both decency, and even virtue itself, are rendered tame, and overcome. The queen was at the head of those who exclaimed against so public and scandalous a crime, and against the impunity of such a wicked act. As the Duchess of Buckingham'^ was a short fat body, like her majesty, who never had had any children, and whom her husband had abandoned for another; this sort of parallel in their situations interested the queen in her favour ; but it was all in vain : no person paid any attention to them ; the licentiousness of the age went on uncontrolled, though the queen endeavoured to raise up the serious part of the nation, the politicians and devotees, as enemies against it. The fate of this princess was in many cases truly me- lancholy : the king, indeed, paid her every outward atten- tion ; but that was all : she easily perceived that the respect he entertained for her daily diminished, in proportion as the credit of her rivals increased : she saw that the king her hus- band was now totally indiflerent about legitimate children, since bis all-charming mistresses bore him others. As all the happiness of her life depended upon that blessing, and as s!ie flattered herself that the king would prove kinder to her if heaven would vouchsafe to grant her desires, she had re- course to all the celebrated secrets against sterility; pious 300 MEMOIRS OF VOWS, nine-day prayers, and oiferiugs having been tried in all manners, but all to no purpose, she was at last obliged to return to natural means. What would she have given on this occasion for the ring which Archbishop Turpin wore on his finger, and which made Charlemagne run after him, in the same manner as it had made him run after one of his concubines, from whose finger Turpin had taken it after her death 1 But it is now many years since the only talismans for creating love are the charms of the person beloved, and foreign enchantments have been looked upon as ineftectual. The queen's physi- cians, men of great prudence, sagacity, and wisdom, as they always are, having duly weighed and considered that the cold waters of Tunbridge had not succeeded in the preceding year, concluded that it would be advisable for her to try the warm baths at Bristol : *^^ this journey was therefore fixed for the next season ; and in the confidence of its jJroving efi"ectual, this excursion would have afi'orded her much plea- sure, if the most dangerous of her rivals had not been one of the first that was appointed to attend the court. The Duchess of Cleveland being then near her time, there was no uneasiness on her account : the common rules of decency required a little attention. The public, it is true, was not either more or less acquainted with the circumstances of her situation, by the care which she now took to conceal it ; but her appearing at court in her present condition would have been too great an insult to the queen. Miss Stewart, more handsome than ever, was appointed for this excursion, and began to make magnificent preparations : the poor queen durst say nothing against it ; but all Jiopes of success imme- diately forsook her. What could the baths, or the feeble virtue of the waters, perform against charms that entirely COl'NT GRAMMONT. 301 counteracted their efl'ccts, either through the grief und un- easiness they occasioned her, or by their still more powerful consequences ? The Chevalier de Grammont, to whom all pleasures were insipid without the presence of jMiss Hamilton, was yet un- able to excuse himself from attending the court. The king delighted too much in his sprightly conversation to leave him behind ; and however pleasing his company might have been in the solitude occasioned by the absence of the court, Miss Hamilton did not think it right to accept his offer of staying in town, because she was obliged to remain there : she how- ever granted him the permission of writing her an account of any news that might occur upon the journey. He failed not to make use of this permission, in such a manner as one may imagine ; and his own concerns took up so much space in his letters, that there was very little room left for other subjects during his stay at the baths. As absence from the object of his affections rendered this place insupportable, he engaged in every thing that might dissipate his impatience, until the happy moment of return arrived. He had a great esteem fur the elder of the Hamiltons ; no less esteem, and far more friendship for his brother, whom he made the confidant of his passion and attachment for his sis- ter. The Chevalier was also acquainted with his first engage- ments with his cousin Wetenhall ; but being ignorant of the coldness that had interrupted a commerce so brisk in its com- mencement, he was surprised at the eagerness he shewed upon all occasions to please JMiss Stewart : his assiduity appeared to the Chevalier de Grammont to exceed those civilities and attentions that are usually paid for the purpose of makin"' court to the favourites of princes. He observed him more strictly, and soon perceived that he was deeper in love with her than was consistent either with his fortune or his repose. 302 MEMOIRS OP As soon as the remarks he made liad confirmed him in his suspicions, he resolved to use his endeavours to prevent the consequences of an engagement pernicious in every respect ; but he waited for a proper opportunity of speaking to him upon the subject. In the mean time the court enjoyed every kind of diversion, in a place where amusement is sought with avidity. The game of bowls, which in France is the pastime of mechanics and servants only, is quite the contrary in England, where it is the exercise of gentlemen, and requires both art and ad- dress. It is only in use during the fair and dry part of the season, and the places where it is practised are charming, delicious walks, called bowling-greens, which are little square grass-plots, where the turf is almost as smooth and level as the cloth of a billiard-table. As soon as the heat of the day is over, all the company assemble there : they play deep, and spectators are at liberty to make what bets they please. The Chevalier de Grammont, long before initiated in the English games and diversions, had been engaged in a horse- race, in which he was indeed unsuccessful ; but he had the satisfaction of being convinced by experience, that an English horse can go twenty miles upon the high road in less than an hour : he was more fortunate at cock-fighting ; and in the bets he made at the bowling-green, the party he betted upon never failed to win. Near all these places of diversion there is usually a sort of inn, or house of entertainment, with a bower or harbour, in which are sold all sorts of English liquors, such as cider, mead, bottled beer, and Spanish wines. Here the rooks meet every evening to drink, smoke, and to try their skill upon each other ; or, in other words, to endeavour to trick one ano- ther out of the winnings of the day. These rooks are, pro- perly speaking, what we call capons, or piqueurs, in France ; COUNT GRAMMONT. 303 men who always carry money aiiout tliem, to enable them to lend to losing gamesters, fur which they receive a gratifica- tion, which is nothing for such as play deep, as it is only two jier cent., and the money to bo repaid the next day. These gentlemen are so nice in their calculations, and so particularly skilful in all manner of games, that no person would dare to enter the lists with them, were they even as- sured that no unfairness would be practised : besides, they make a vow, to win four or five guineas a day, and to be satisfied with that gain ; a vow which they seldom or never break. It was in the midst of a company of these rooks, that Ha- milton found the Chevalier de Grammont, when he called in one evening to get a glass of cider. They were playing at hazard ; and as ho who holds the dice is supposed to have the advantage, the rooks did the Chevalier de Grammont that honour out of compliment : he had the dice in his hand when Hamilton came into the room. The rooks, secure of their odds, were betting against him at a high rate, and he took all. Hamilton could hardly believe his eyes, to see a man of his experience and knowledge engaged in so unequal a contest ; but it was to no purpose that he informed him of his danger, both aloud in French, and in private by signs ; he still disre- garded his warnings, and the dice, that bore Caesar and his fortunes, performed a miracle in his favour. The rooks were defeated fur the first time, but not without bestowing upon him all the encomiums and praises of being a very fair and honourable player, which they never fail to lavish upon those whom they wish to engage a second time ; but all their com- mendations were lost, and their hopes deceived : the Chevalier was satisfied with the first experiment. Hamilton, when the king was at supper, related to him how 304 MEMOIRS OF he found the Chevalier de Grammont rashly engaged with the rooks, and in what manner he had been providentially pre- served. " Indeed, Sir," said the Chevalier de Grammont, " the rooks were discomfited for once ;" and thereupon related the adventure to his majesty in his usual way, attracting the attention of all the company, to a circumstance, trifling in it- self, but rendered interesting by his humour. After supper, Miss Stewart, in whose apartment there was play, called Hamilton to her to tell the story. The Chevalier de Grammont, perceiving that she attended to him with plea- sure, was fully confirmed in the truth of his first conjectures ; and, having carried Hamilton home with him to supper, they began to discourse freely together as usual. " George," .^aid the Chevalier de Grammont, " are you in any want of money? I know you love play; perhaps it may not be so favourable to you as it is to me : we are at a great distance from Lon- don. Here are two hundred guineas, take them, I beseech you, they will do to play with at Miss Stewart's." Hamilton, who little expected this conclusion, was rather disconcerted. " How ! at Miss Stewart's ! " " Yes, in her apartments, friend George," continued the Chevalier de Grammont ; " I have not yet lost my eyes : you are in love with her, and if I am not mistaken, she is not oifended at it ; but tell me how you could resolve to banish poor Wetenhall from your heart, and sufier yourself to be infatuated with a girl, who perhaps, after all, is not worth the other, and who, besides, whatever favourable dispositions she may have for you, will undoubt- edly, in the end prove your ruin. Faith, your brother and you are two pretty fellows, in your choice. What ! can you find no other beauties in all the court to fall in love with, ex- cept the king's two mistresses ? As for the elder brother, I can pardon him : he only took Lady Castlemaine, after his master had done with her, and after Lady Chesterfield had COUNT GKAIMMUiNT. 305 discarded liiin ; but, as for you, what the devil do you intend to do with a creature, on whom the king seems every day to doat with increasing fondness ? Is it because that drunken sot Richmond has again come forward, and now dccl;ires himself one of her professed admirers ? You will soon see what ho will make by it : I have not forgotten what the king said to me upon the subject. " Believe me, my dear friend, there is no playing tricks with our masters, I mean, there is no ogling their mistresses. I myself wanted to play the agreeable in France, with a little coquette, whom the king did not care about, and you know how dearly I paid for it. I confess she gives you fair play, but do not trust to her. All the sex feel an unspeakable satisfac- tion at having men in their train, whom they care not for, and to use them as their slaves of state, merely to swell their equipage. Would it not be a great deal better to pass a week or ten days incognito at Peckham with the philosopher Weten- hall's wife, than to have it inserted in the Dutch Gazette, — ' "We hear from Bristol, that such a one is banished the court on account of Miss Stewart, and that he is going to make a campaign in Guinea on board the fleet that is fitting out for the expedition under the command of Prince Rupert?* "'^2 Hamilton, who was the more convinced of the truth of this discourse, the more he considered it, after musing some time, appeared to wake from a dream, and addressing himself with an air of gratitude to the Chevalier de Grammont : " Of all the men in the world, my dear friend," said he, "you have the most agreeable wit, and at the same time the clearest judgment with respect to your friends : what you have told me has opened my eyes : I began to sufler myself to be se- duced by the most ridiculous illusion imaginable, and to be hurried away rather by frivolous aj)pearances, than any real inclination : to you I owe the obligation of having preserved X 306 MEMOIRS OP me from destruction at the very brink of a precipice. This is not the only kindness you have done me, your favours have been innumerable ; and, as a proof of my gratitude for this last, I will follow your advice, and go into retirement at my cousin Wetenhall's, to eradicate from my recollection every trace of those chimeras which lately possessed my brain ; but so far from going thither incognito, I will take you along with me, as soon as the court returns to London. My sister shall likewise be of the party ; for it is prudent to use all precau- tions with a man, who with a great deal of merit, on such occasions, is not over scrupulous, if we may credit your philo- sopher." " Do not pay any attention to that pedant," replied the Chevalier de Graramont : " but tell me what put it into your head to form a design upon that inanimate statue, Miss Stewart V " How the devil should I know ! " said Hamilton : " you are acquainted with all her childish amusements. The old Lord Carlingford'^"^ was at her apartment one evening, shewing her how to hold a lighted wax-candle in her mouth, and the grand secret consisted in keeping the burning end there a long time without its being extinguished. I have, thank God, a pretty large mouth, and, in order to out-do her teacher, I took two candles into my mouth at the same time, and walked three times round the room without their going out. Every person present adjudged me the prize of this illustrious experiment, and Killegrew maintained that nothing but a lantern could stand in competition with me. Upon this she was like to die with laughing ; and thus was I ad- mitted into the familiarity of her amusements. It is impos- sible to deny her being one of the most charming creatures that ever was. Since the court has been in the country, I have had a hundred opportunities of seeing her, which I had not before. You know that the dishabille of the bath is a great convenience for those ladies, who, strictly adhering to all the COUNT GRAMMONT. .707 rules of decorum, are yet desirous to display all their cbarms and attractions. Miss Stewart is so fully acquaiuted with the advantages she possesses over all other women, tliat it is hardly possible to praise any lady at court for a well-turned arm, and a fine leg, but she is ever ready to dispute the point by demon- stration ; and 1 really believe, that, witn a little address, it would not be difficult to iuduco her to strip naked, without ever reflecting upon what she was doing. After all, a man must be very insensible to remain unconcerned and unmoved on such hapi)y occasions ; and besides, the good opinion we entertain of ourselves is apt to make us think a woman is smit- ten, as soon as she distinguishes us by habitual familiarity, which most commonly signifies nothing. This is the truth of the matter with respect to myself: my own presumption, her beauty, the brilliant station that sets it off, and a thousand kind things she had said to me, prevented me from making serious reflections ; but then, as some excuse for my folly, I must likewise tell you, that the facility I found in making her the tenderest declarations by commending her, and her telling me in confidence a thousand things which she ought not to have intrusted me with, n-.ight have deceived or infatuated any other man as well as myself. " I presented her with one of the prettiest horses in Eng- land. You know what peculiar grace and elegance distinguish her on horseback. The king, who, of all the diversions of the chase, likes none but hawking, because it is the most con- venient for the ladies, went out the other day to take this amusement, attended by all the beauties of his court His majesty having galloped after a falcon, and the whole bright squadron after him, the rustling of 3Iiss Stewart's petticoats frightened her horse, which was at full speed, endeavouring to come up with mine, that had been his companion ; so that I was the only witness of a disorder iu her clothes, which dis- X 2 308 MEMOIRS OP played a thousand new beauties to my view. I had the good fortune to make such gallant and flattering exclamations upon that charming disorder, as to prevent her being concerned or out of countenance upon it. On the contrary, this subject of my admiration has been frequently since the subject of our conversation, and did not seem to displease her. " Old Loi'd Carlingford, and that mad fellow Crofts'^-* (for I must now make you my general confession), those insipid buffoons, were frequently telling her some diverting stories, which passed pretty well with the help of a few old thread- bare jests, or some apish tricks in the recital, which made her laugh heartily. As for myself, who know no stories, and do not possess the talent of improving them by telling, if I did know any, I was often greatly embarrassed when she desired me to tell her one : ' I do not know one, indeed,' said I, one day, when she was teasing me on the subject. * Invent one, then,' said she. ' That would be still more diflficult,' replied I ; ' but, if you will give me leave, madam, I will relate to you a very extraordinary dream, which has, however, less ap- pearance of truth in it than dreams generally have.' This excited her curiosity, which would brook no denial. I, there- fore, began to tell her, that the most beautiful creature in the world, whom I loved to distraction, paid me a visit in my sleep. I then drew her own portrait, with a rapturous de- scription of all her beauties ; adding, that this goddess, who came to visit me with the most favourable intentions, did not counteract them by any unreasonable cruelty. This was not sufficient to satisfy Miss Stewart's curiosity : I was obliged to relate every particular circumstance of the kindness I exijeri- enced from this delicate phantom ; to which she was so very attentive, that she never once appeared surprised or discon- certed at the luscious tale : on the contrary, she made me repeat the description of the beauty, which I drew as near as COUNT GRA.M.MO-NT. 30.0 possible after her own person, and after such charms as I imagined of beauties that were unknown to nie. "This is, in fact, the very thing tliat had ahnost dcprivcS'^. Evremond's Works, vol. ii. p. 237. Note 88, Page 141. Semeat. A country seat belonging to the faraOy of the Graromonts. ILLUSTRATIONS. 361 Note 89, Page 1-12. He was extremely handsome. George Villiers, the second Duke of Buckingham, was born 30th Jan- uary, 1G27. Lord Orford observes, " When this extraordinary man, with the figure and genius of Alcibiades, could equally charm the presOy. terian Fairfax and the dissolute Charles ; when he alike ridiculed that witty king and his solemn chancellor ; when he plotted the ruin of his country with a cabal of bad ministers, or, equally unprincipled, supported its cause with bad patriots, — one laments that such parts should have been devoid of every virtue ; but when Alcibiades turns chemist ; when he is a real bubble and a visionary miser ; when ambition is but a froHc ; when the worst designs are for the fooUshest ends, — contempt extinguishes all re- flection on his character. " The portrait of this duke has been drawn by four masterly hands. Burnet has hewn it out with his rough chisel ; Count Hamilton touched it with that slight delicacy that finishes while it seems but to sketch ; Dry- den catched the living likeness ; Pope completed the historical resem- blance." — Rni/al and Noble Authors, vol. ii. p. 78. Of these four portraits, the second is in the text ; the other three will complete the character of this extraordinary nobleman. Bishop Burnet says, he " was a man of noble presence. He had a ^eat liveliness of wit, and a peculiar faculty of turning all things into ridicule, with bold figures, and natural descriptions. He had no sort of hterature, only he was drawn into chymistry ; and for some years he thought he was very near the finding the philosopher's stone, which had the efi^ect that attends on aU such men as he was, when they are drawn in, to lay out for it. Ht had no principles of rehgion, virtue, or friendship ; pleasure, frolic, or extravagant diversion was all that he laid to heart. He was true to nothing ; for he was not true to himself. He had no steadiness nor conduct ; he could keep no secret, nor execute any design without spoil- ing it. He could never fix his thoughts, nor govern his estate, though then the greatest in England. He was bred about the king, and for many years he had a great ascendant over him ; but he spake of him to all per- sons with that contempt, that at last he drew a lasting disgrace upon him- self. And he at length ruined both body and mind, fortune and reputa- tion equally. The madness of vice appeared in his person in very eminent instances ; since at last he became contemptible and poor, sickly, and sunk in his parts, as well as in all other respects ; so tiiat his conversation was as much avoided as ever it had been courted." — Burnet's Own Times, vol. i. p. 137. Drydeu's character of him is in these lines : — " In the first rank of these did Zimri stand ; A man so various that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong ; Was every thing by starts, and nothing long, But, in the course of one revolving moon, W^as chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; 362 NOTES AND Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking. Blest madman, who could every hour employ With something new to wish or to enjoy ! Railing and praising were his usual themes, And both, to shew his judgment, in extremes ; So over violent, or over civil, That every man with him was god or devil. In squandering wealth was his peculiar art ; Nothing went unrewarded but desert. Beggar'd by fools, whom still he found too late ; He had his jest, and they had his estate : He laugh'd himself from court, then sought relief By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief; For, spite of him, the weight of business fell On Absalom and wise Achitophel : Thus wicked but in will, of means bereft. He left not faction, but of that was left." Absalom and Achitophel. Pope describes the last scene of this nobleman's life in these lines : — " In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung. The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung. On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw. With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw ; The George and Garter dangling from that bed. Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red, Great Villiers lies ; — alas ! how chang'd from him. That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim ! Gallant and gay, in Clieveden's proud alcove, The bower of wanton Shrewsbury and love ; Or, just as gay, at council, in a ring Of mimic'd statesmen, and their merry king. No wit, to flatter, left of all his store ! No fool to laugh at, which he valued more. There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends. And fame, this lord of useless thousand ends." Moral Essai/s, Epist. iii. 1. 299. He died Ifith April, 1688, at the house of a tenant, at Kirby Moor- side, near Helmsly, in Yorkshire, aged 61 years, and was buried in West- minster-abbey. Though this note is already long, the reader will hardly complain at an extension of it, by the addition of one more character of this licentious nobleman, written by the able ]ien of the author of Hudibras. " The Duke of Bucks is one that has studied the whole body of vice. His parts are disproportionate to the whole, and, like a monster, he has more of some, and less of others, than he should have. He has pulled down aU that nature raised in him, and built himself up again after a model of his own. He has dammed up all those lights that nature made into the ILLUSTRATIONS. 363 noblest prospects of the world, ami opened other little blind loop-iioles backward, by turiiin<; day into niglit, and night into day. His appetite to his pleasures is diseased and crazy, like tlie pica in a woman, that 16ngs to eat that which was never made for food, or a girl in the green sickness, that eats chalk and mortar. Perpetual surfeits of pleasure have filled his mind with bad and vicious humours (as well as his body with a nursery of diseases), which makes him affect new and extravagant ways, as being sick and tired with the old. Continual wine, women, and music, put false values upon things, which, by custom, become habitual, and debauch his understanding so, that he retains no right notion nor sense of things. And as the same dose of the same physic has no operation on those that are much used to it, so his pleasures require a larger pro- portion of excess and variety, to render him sensible of them. He rises, eats, and goes to bed by the Julian account, long after all others that go by the new style, and keeps the same hours with owls and the antijiodes. He is a great observer of the Tartar customs, and never eats till the great cham, having dined, makes ])roclamation that all the world may go to dinner. He does not dwell in his house, hut haunts it like an evil spirit, that walks all night, to disturb the family, and never appears by day. He lives perpetually benighted, runs out of his life, and loses his time as men do their ways in the dark : and as blind men are led by their dogs, so is he governed by some mean servant or other, that relates to his plea- sures. He is as inconstant as the moon which he lives under ; and although he does nothing but advise with his pillow all day, he is as great a stranger to himself as he is to the rest of the world. His mind entertains all things very freely that come and go, but, Uke guests and strangers, they are not welcome if they stay long. This lays him open to all cheats, quacks, and impostors, who apply to every particular humour while it lasts, and afterwards vanish. Thus, with St. Paul, though in a different sense, he dies daily, and only lives in the night. He deforms nature, while he intends to adorn her, like Indians that hang jewels in their lips and noses. His ears are perpetually drilled with a fiddlestick. He endures pleasures with less patience than other men do their pains." — Butler's Posthumous Works, vol. ii. p. 72. [Pepys, in speaking of the release of the duke after his imprisonment in the Tower for high treason, says: "July 17th, 16G7. The Duke of Buckingham is, it seems, set at Uberty without any further charge against him or other clearing of him, but let to go out ; which is one of the strangest instances of the fool's play, with which all publick things are done in this age, that is to be apprehended. And it is said that when he was charged with making himself popular (as indeed he is, for many of the discontented Parliament, Sir Robert Howard, and Sir Thomas Meres, and others, did attend at the council- chamber when he was examined), he should answer, that whoever was committed to prison by my Lord Chancellor or my Lord Arlington, could not want being popular. But it is worth considering the ill state a minister of state is in, under such a prince as ours is ; for, undoubtedly, neither of those two great men would have been so fierce against the Duke of Buckingham at the council- table the other day, had they been assured of the king's good liking, and 364 NOTES AND supporting them therein : whereas, perhaps at the desire of my Lady Castlemaine (who, I suppose, hath at last overcome the king), the Duke of Buckingham is well received again, and now these men delivered up to the interest he can make for his revenge." Pepys also relates the following anecdote of him : — " July 22nd, 1667. Creed tells me of the fray between the Duke of Buckingham (at the duke's playhouse the last Saturday) and Henry Killigrew, whom the Duke of Buckingham did soundly beat and take away his sword, and make a fool of, till the fellow prayed him to spare his life ; and I am glad of it, for it seems in this business the Duke of Buckingham did carry himself very innocently and well, and I wish he had paid this fellow's coat well.] Note 90, Page 143. Lord Arlington. Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington, principal secretary of state, and lord- chamberlain to King Charles II. : a nobleman whose practices, during that reign, have not left his character free from reproach. Mr. Macpherson says of him, that he " supplied the place of extensive talents by an artful management of such as he possessed. Accommodating in his principles, and easy in his address, he pleased when he was known to deceive ; and his manner acquired to him a kind of influence where he commanded no /espect. He was little calculated for bold measures, on account of his natural timidity ; and that defect created an opinion of his moderation that was ascribed to virtue. His facility to adopt new measures was for- gotten in his readiness to acknowledge the errors of the old. The defi- ciency of his integrity was forgiven in the decency of his dishonesty. Too weak not to be superstitious, yet possessing too much sense to own his adherence to the church of Rome, he lived a Protestant in his outward profession, but he died a Catholic. Timidity was the chief characteristic of his mind ; and that being known, he was even commanded by cowards. He was the man of the least genius of the party ; but he had most ex- perience in that slow and constant current of business, which, perhaps, suits affairs of state better than the violent exertions of men of grea parts." — Original Papers, vol. i. Lord Arlington died July 28, 1685 See a character of him in Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham's Works. Note 91, Page 144. He sent to Holland for a wife. This lady was Isabella, daughter to Lewis de Nassau, Lord Beverwaert, son to Maurice, Prince of Orange, and Count Nassau. By her. Lord Arlington had an only daughter, named Isabella, who married, August 1, 1672, Henry, Earl of Euston, son to King Charles II., by Barbara, Duchess of Cleveland, created afterwards Duke of Grafton ; and, after his death, to Sir Thomas Hanmer, Bart. She assisted at the coronation of King George I., as Countess of Arlington, in her own right, and died February 7, 1722-3 ILLrSTRATIONS. 3G5 Note 92, Page 144. HamiUon was, of all trie courtiers, the lest qualified, &rc. Lord Orford says, this was Georpe Hamilton ; but it evidently refers to James Hamilton, the eldest brother, already mentioned at p. 107 and note 50. The whole of the adventures in this book in which the Hamiltons are introduced, t-vidcntiy relate but to two, James and George ; what belongs to each is most clearly and distinctly pointed out by the author. Note 93, Page 145. She was daughler to the Duke of Ormond. And second wife of the Earl of Chesterfield. She survived the adven- tures here related a very .short time, dying in July, 1G05, at the age of twenty-five years. Note 94, Page 145. The queen vas given over by her phijsicians. This haj'pened in October. 16G3. Lord Arlington, in a letter to the Duke of Ormond, dated the 17th of that month, says, " the condition of the queen is much worse, and the physicians give us but little hopes of her recovery : by the next you will hear she is either in a fair way to it, or dead : tu-morrow is a very critical day with her -. God's will be done. The king coming to see her this morning, she told him she willingly left all the world but him ; which hath very much afflicted his majesty, and all the court with him." — Brown's Miscellanea Aulica, 1702, p. 306. Note 95, Page 146. The Thames washes the sides of a large though not a magnificent palace of the kings of Ureat Britain. This was Whitehall, which was burnt down, except the banqueting- house, 4th January, 1G98. — See Harleian Miscellany, yo\. vi. p. 367. Note 96, Page 148. Monsieur dc Comminge. This gentleman was ambassador in London, from the court of France, during the years 1663, 1664, and 1665. Lord Clarendon, speaking of hiin, describes him as something capricious in his nature, which made him hard to treat with, and not always vacant at the hours himself assigned ; being hypochondriac, and seldom sleeping without opium. — Continuation of Clarendon's Lije, p. 263. Note 97, Page 148. Hyde Park, every one knows, is the promenade of London. The writer already quoted gives this description of the entertainments of this place, at this period : — 366 NOTES AND " I did frequently, in the spring, accompany my lord N into a field near the town, which they call Hide Park ; the place not unpleasant, and which they use as our Course ; but with nothing of that order, equipage, and splendour ; being such an assembly of wretched jades, and hackney coaches, as, next a regiment of carr-men, there is nothing approaches the resemblance. This parke was (it seemes) used by the late king and nobi- lity for the freshness of the air, and the goodly prospect ; but it is that which now (besides all other excises) they pay for here, in England, though it be free in all the world besides ; every coach and horse which enters buying his mouthful, and permission of the publicane who has purchased it; for which the entrance is guarded with porters and long staves." — A Character of Enijland, as it was lately I'resented to a Nobleman of France, 12mo. 1G59, p. 54. Note 98, Page 148. Coaches with glasses. Coaches were first introduced into England in the year 1564. Taylor, the water poet (Works, 1630, p. 240), says, — " One William Boonen, a Dutchman, brought first the use of coaches hither ; and the said Boonen was Queen Elizabeth's coachman ; for, indeed, a coach was a strange monster in those days, and the sight of them put both horse and man into amazement." Dr. Percy observes, they were first drawn by two horses, and that it was the favourite Buckingham, who, about 1619, began to draw with six horses. About the same time, he introduced the sedan. The Ultiynum Vale of John Carleton, 4to. 1663, p. 23, wUl, in a great measure, ascertain the time of the introduction of glass coaches. He says, " I could wish her (i.e. Mary Carleton's) coach (which she said my lord TalF bought for her in England, and sent it over to her, made of the new fashion, with glasse, very stately ; and her pages and acquies were of the same livery), was come for me," &c. For Jurther information on the history of coaches, see that very interesting work Bechnann's History of Inventions, new edition, in Bohn's Standard TAbrary. Note 99, Page 152. The Prince of Conde besieged Lerida. This was in 1647. Voltaire says " he, Conde, was accused, upon this occasion, in certain books, of a bravado, in having opened the trenches to the music of violins ; but these writers were ignorant that this was the custom of Spain." — Age of Lewis XIV., chap. 2. Note 100, Page 152. Marshal de Gramniont. Anthony, marechal of France. He appears to have quitted the army in 1672. " Le Due de la Feuillade est colonel du regiment des gardes sur la demission volontaire du Marechal de Grammont." — Henaulfa History of France. He died 1678. ILLUSTRATIONS. i67 Note 101, Page 15". Description 0/ Lord Chesterfield. Philip, the second Earl of Chisterfitld. He was constituted, in 1GG2, lord-chainberluin to the queen, and colonel of a regiment of foot, June 13, 1007. On November 29, 1G79, he was appointed lord-warden and chief-justice of the king's forests on this side Trent, and sworn of the privy-council, January 2G, IGSO. On November G, 1G82, he was made colonel of the third regiment of foot, which, with the rest of his prefer- ments, he resigned on the accession of James II. He lived to the age of upwards of 80, and died, January 28, 1713, at his house in Bloomsbury- square. Note 102, Page 162. The Duke of York's marriage. The material facts in this narrative are confirmed by Lord Clarendon. — Continuation of his Life, p. 33. It is difficult to speak of the per- sons concerned in this infamous transaction without some degree of aspe- rity, notwithstanding they are, by a strange perversion of language, styled, all men of honour. Note 103, Page IG". Lady Carneyy. Anne, daughter of William, Duke of Hamilton, and wife of Robert Camegy, Earl of Southesk. Note 104, Page 168. Talbot. Afterwards Duke of Tyrconnel. See note on p. 98. Note 105, Page 169. The traitor Southesk meditated a revenge. Bishop Burnet, taking notice of the Duke of York's amours, says, " A story was set about, and generally believed, that the Earl of Southesk, that had married a daughter of the Duke of Hamilton, suspecting some familiari- ties between the duke and his wife, had taken a sure method to procure a disease to himself, which he communicated to his wife, and was, by that means, sent round till it came to the duchess. Lord Southesk was, for some years, not ill pleased to have this believed. It looked Uke a pecu- liar strain of revenge, with which he seemed much delighted. But I know he has, to some of his friends, denied the whole of the story very solemnly." — Burnet's Own Times, vol. i. p. 395, Oxford, 1823. It Ls worthy of notice, that the passage in the text was omitted in most editions of Grammont, and retained in that of Strawberry-hill, in 1772. i^GS NOTES AND Note 106, Page 170. Lady Robarts. Lord Orford says, this lady was Sarah, daughter of John Bod- ville, of Bodville Castle, in Caernarvonsliire, wife of Robert Robarts, who died in the lifetime of his father, and was eldest son of John, Earl of Radnor. This, however, may be doubted. There was no Earl of Radnor until the year 1679, which was after the date of most, if not all the transactions related in this work ; consequently, no other person, who could be called Lord Robarts, than John, the second loid, who was created Earl of Radnor, with whose character several of the qualities here enumerated, particularly his age, moroseness, &c., will be found to agree. Supposing this to be admitted, the lady will be Isabella, daughter of Sir John Smith, knight, second wife of the above John, Lord Robarts, wliose character is thus portrayed by Lord Clarendon: — " Though of a good understanding, he was of so morose a nature, that it was no easy matter to treat with him. He had some pedantic parts of learning, which made his other parts of judgment the worse. He was n.HturaUy proud and imperious, which humour was increased by an ill education ; for, excepting some years spent in the inns of court, he might very justly be said to have been born and bred in Cornwall. When lord deputy in Ireland, he received the information of the chief persons there so negligently, and gave his answers so scornfully, that they besought the king that they might not be obliged to attend him any more : but he was not a man chat was to be disgraced and thrown off without much incon- venience and hazard. He had parts, which, in council and parliament, were very troublesome ; for, of all men alive, who had so few friends, he had the most followers. They who conversed most with him knew him to have many humours which were very intolerable ; they who were but little acquainted with him took him to be a man of much knowledge, and called his morosity gravity." — Continuation of Clarendon, p. 102. Note 107, Page 171. The Earl of Bristol. George Digoy. The account here given of the practices of this noble- man receives confirmation from Lord Clarendon, who observes of him, " that he had left no way unattempted to render himself gracious to the king, by saying and doing all that might be acceptable unto him, and con- triving such meetings and jollities as he was pleased with." — Continuation of his Life, p. 208. Lord Orford says of him, that "his life was one contradiction. He wrote against popery, and embraced it ; he was a zealous opposerof the court, and a sacrifice to it; was conscientiously con- verted in the midst of his prosecution of Lord Strafford, and was most unconscientiously a prosecutor of Lord Clarendon. With great parts, he always hurt himself and his friends ; with romantic bravery, he was always an unsuccessful commander. He spoke for the Test Act, though a Ro- man Catholic, and addicted himself to astrology on the birth-day of true philosophy." — Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors, vol. ii. p. 25. II.I.fSTKATIONS. 069 The histories of England abound with the adventures of this inconsist- ent nobleman, who died, neither loved nor regretted by any party, in the year 1070. Note 108, Page 1*2. Sir John Denham. That Sir John Denham " had passed his youth in the midst of those pleasures which pedjile at that age indulge in without restraint," all his biograi)hers seem to admit ; but, if our author is to be relied on, Wood's account of the date of his birth, 1015, must be erroneous. He was not loaded with years when he died, if that statement is true ; and so far from being seventy-nine when he married Miss Brook, he had not attained the age of more than fifty-three when he died. In this particular, I am in- clined to doubt the accuracy of Wood, who omits to mention that Sir John had a former wife, by whom he had a daughter. In the year 1CG7, he appears to have been a lunatic, either real or feigned. Lord Lisle, in a letter to Sir \\'illiam Temple, dated September 20th, says, — " Poor Sir John Denham is fallen to the ladies also. He is at many of the meetings at dinners, talks more than ever he did, and is extremely pleased with those that seem willing to hear him, and, from that obligation, exceed- ingly praises the Duchess of Monmouth and my Lady Cavendish. If he had not the name of being mad, I believe, in most companies, he would be thought wittier than ever he was. He seems to have few extravagan- cies besides that of telling stories of himself, which he is always inclined to. Some of his acquaintance say, that extreme vanity was the cause of his madness, as well as it is an effect." — Temple's Works, vol. i. p. 484. In Butler's Posthumous Works, vol. ii. p. 153, is an abuse of Sir John Denham, under the title of "A Panegyric upon his recovery from his madness." Sir John died 19th March, 1668, and was buried in West- minster Abbey. [Aubrey relates the following anecdotes of him : — " I have heard Mr. Joseph Howe say that he was the dreamingest young fellow ; he never e.i- pected such things from him as he hath left the world. When he was at Trinity College, Oxford, he would game extremely ; when he had played away all his money, he would play away his father's wrought caps with gold. (His father was Sir John Denham, one of the Barons of the Ex- chequer ; he had been one of Lords Justices in Ireland. ) From Trinity College he went to Lincoln's Inn, where (as Judge Wadham Wyndham, who was his countryman, told me) he was as good a student as any in the house. W'as not supposed to be a wit. At last, viz. 1640, his play of 'The Sophe' came out, which did take extremely. Mr. Edmund Waller said then of him, that he broke out like the Irisii Rebellion — threescore tliousand strong, when nobody suspected it. He was much rooked 'oy gamesters, and fell acquainted with that unsanctified crew to his ruin. His father had some suspicion of it, and chid him severely ; whereupon his son John (only child) wrote a little Essay, printed in 8vo. , 'Against Gaming,' to shew the vanities and inconveniences of it, which he pre- sented to his father, to let him know his detestation of it ; but shortly after 2 B S70 NOTES AND his father's death (who left 2,000 or 1,500 lib. in ready money, two houses well furnished, and much plate), the money was played away first, and next the plate was sold. I remember, about 1G46, he lost 200 lib. one night at New Cut. Miss Brooks was his second wife, a very beautiful young lady, Sir John being ancient and limping. The Duke of York fell deeply in love with her, and this occasioned Sir John's distemper of mad- ness, which first appeared when he went from London to see the famous free-stone quarries at Portland, in Dorset. When he came within a mile of it, he turned back to London again, and would not see it ; he went to Hounslow, and demanded rents of lands he had sold many years before ; went to the king and told him he was the Holy Ghost ; but it pleased God that he was cured of this distemper, and wrote excellent verses, par- ticularly on the death of Mr. Abraham Cowley, afterwards. One time, when he was a student of Lincoln's Inn, having been merry at the tavern with his comrades, late at night, a frolic came into his head, to get a plas- terer's brush and a pot of ink, and blot out all the signs between Temple Bar and Charing Cross, which made a strange confusion the next day, and it was in Term time. But it happened that they were discovered, and it cost him and them some moneys. This I had from R. Estcourt, Esq., that carried the ink-pot. In the time of the civil wars, George Withers, the poet, begged Sir John Denham's estate of the Parliament, in whose cause he was a captain of horse. It happened that G. W. was taken pri- soner, and was in danger of his life, having written severely against the king, &c. Sir John Denham went to the king, and desired his Majesty not to hang him, for that whilst G. W. lived, he should not be the worst poet in England."] Note 109, Page 189, Rochester. John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester ; " a man," as Lord Orford observes, " whom the muses were fond to inspire, and ashamed to avow ; and who practised, without the least reserve, that secret which can make verses more read for their defects than for their merits " {Noble Authors, vol. ii. p. 43) ; was born, according to Burnet and Wood, in the month of April, 1648; but Gladbury, in his almanac for 1695,fixes the date on April 1, 1647, from the information of Lord Rochester himself. His father was Henry, Earl of Rochester, better known by the title of Lord Wilmot. He was educated at Wadham College, Oxford, and, in 1 665, went to sea with the Earl of Sandwich, and displayed a degree of valour which he never shewed at any period afterwards. Bishop Burnet says, he " was naturally modest, till the court corrupted him. His wit had in it peculiar brightness, to which none could ever arrive. He gave himself up to all sorts of ex- travagance, and to the wildest frolics that wanton wit could devise. He would have gone about the streets as a beggar, and made love as a porter. He set up a stage as an Italian mountebank. [For a copy of his speech on this occasion, see note 142.] He was for some years always drunk ; and was ever doing some mischief. The king loved his company, for the diversion it afforded, better than his person ; and there was no love lost between them. He took his revenges in many libels. He found out a 1 ILLUSTKATIONS. 371 footman that knew all the court ; and he furnished him with a red coat and a musket, as a sentinel, and kejit him all the winter loni;, every night, at the doors of such ladies as he believed might be in intrigues. In the court, a sentinel is little minded, and is believed to be posted by a captain of tiie guards to hinder a combat ; so this man saw who walked about and visited at forbidden hours. By this means Lord Rochester made many discoveries ; and when he was well furnished with materials, he used to retire into the country for a month or two to write libels. Once, being drunk, he intended to give the king a libel he had writ on some ladies, but, by misUike, he gave him one written on himself. He fell into an ill habit of body, and, in set fits of sickness, he had deep remorses, for he was guilty both of much impiety and of great immoralities. But as he recovered, he threw these off, and turned again to his former ill courses. In the last year of his life, I was much with him. and have writ a book of what passed between him and me : I do verily believe, he was then so chauged, that, if he had recovered, he would have made good all his resolutions." — Hiatory of his own Times, vol. i. p. 372. On this book, mentioned by the bishop. Dr. Johnson pronounces the follow- ing eulogium : — that it is one " which the critic ought to read for its elegance, the philosopher for its arguments, and the saint for its piety. It were an injury to the reader to offer him an abridgment." — Life of Lord Rochester. [Pepys gives the following account of Lord Rochester's run- away match. May 28, 16G5. " To my Lady Sandwiche's, where, to my shame, I had not been a great while. Here, upon my telling her a story of my Lord of Rochester's running away on Friday night last with Mrs. Mallett, the great beauty and fortune of the north, who had supped at White Hall with Mrs. Stewart, and was going home to her lodgings with her grandfather, my Lord Hally, by coach ; and was at Charing Cross seized on by both horse and footmen, and forcibly taken from him, and put into a coach with six horses, and two women provided to receive her, and carried away. Upon immediate pursuit, my Lord of Rochester (for whom the king had spoke to the lady often, but with no success) was taken at Uxbridge ; but the lady is not yet heard of, and the king mighty angry, and the lord sent to the Tower. Hereupon my lady did confess to me, as a great secret, her being concerned in this story. For if this match breaks between my Lord Rochester and her, then, by the consent of all her friends, my Lord Hinchingbroke stands fair, and is invilfed for her. She is worth, and wUl be at her mother's death (who keeps but little from her), 2,500/. per annum."] Lord Rochester died July 26, 16S0. Note 110, Page 189. Middlesex. At this time the Earl of Middlesex was Lionel, who died in 1G"4. The person intended by our author was Charles, then Lord Buckhurst, afterwards Earl of Middlesex, and, lastly, Duke of Dorset. He was born January 24, 1637. Bishop Burnet says, he " was a generous, good- natured man. He was so oppressed with phlegm, that, till he was a little heated with wine, he scarce ever spoke ; but he was, upon that exaltation, 2 B 2 372 NOTES AND a very lively man. Never was so much ill-nature in a pen as in hi?, joined with so much good-nature as was in liimself, even to excess ; for he was against all punishing, even of malefactors. He was bountifu', even to run himself into difficulties, and charitable to a fault ; for he commonly gave all he had about him when he met an object that moved him. But he was so lazy, that, though the king seemed to court him to be a favourite, he would not give himself the trouble that belonged to that post. He hated the court, and despised the king, when he saw he was neither generous nor tender-hearted." — History of his own Times, vol. i. p. 370. Lord Orford says of him, that " he was the finest gentleman of the voluptuous court of Charles the Second, and in the gloomy one of King William. He had as much wit as his first master, or his contempo- raries, Buckingham and Rochester, without the royal want of feeling, the duke's want of principles, or the earl's want of thought. The latter said, with astonishment, ' that he did not know how it was, but Lord Dorset might do any thing, and yet was never to blame.' It was not that he was free from the failings of humanity, but he had the tenderness of it too, which made everybody excuse whom everybody loved ; for even the as- perity of his verses seems to have been forgiven to The best good man, with the worst-natured muse.' Noble Authors, vol. ii. p. 9G. Lord Dorset died January 19, 1705-6. [Pepys thus notices his connection with Nell Gwynn. July 13th, 166^. " Mr. Pierce tells us what troubles me, that my Lord Buckhurst hath got Nell away from the king's house, and gives her 100/. a year, so as she hath sent her parts to the house, and will act no more." And again, July 14th. " To Epsom, by eight o'clock, to the well ; were much company. And to the towne to the King's Head ; and hear that my Lord Buckhurst and Nelly are lodged at the next house, and Sir Charles Sedley with them : and keep a merry house. Poor girl ! I pity her ; but more the loss of her at the king's house." Also, August 26th. " Nell is already left by my Lord Buckhurst, and he makes sport of her, and swears she hath had all she could get of him ; and Hart, her great admirer, now hates her ; and she is very poor, and hath Inst my Lady Castlemaine, who was her great friend, also ; but she is come to the play-house, but is neglected by them »11."1 Note HI, Page 189. Sydley. Sir .Charles Sedley was born about the year 1639, and was educated at Wadham College, Oxford. He ran into ail the excesses of the times in which he lived. Burnet says, " Sedley had a more sudden and copious wit, which furnished a perpetual run of discourse ; but he was not so cor- rect as Lord Dorset, nor so sparkling as Lord Rochester." — History of Ms own Times, vol. i. p. 372. He afterwards took a more serious turn, and was active against the reigning family at the Revolution ; to v/hich he was probably urged by the dishonour brought upon his daughter, created Countess of Dorchester by King James IL [The following well-known ILLUSTUATIONS. 373 anecdote refers to this circumstance. Sedley was one day asked why he appeared so inflamed against the king, to whom he was under so manj obligations? " I hate ingratitude," lie said, " and therefore, as the king has made vty daugliter a countess, I will endeavour to make his daughter a queen." Referring to the Princess Mary, wife of the Prince of Orange, who, by the success of this great outbreak, was called to the throne under the name of William III.] Lord Rochester's lines oa his powers of seduction are well known. He died 2()th August, 1701. [Among other numerous frolics related of Sir Charles Sedley, that which took place in June, 1GG3, when he was in company with Lord Buckhurst, Sir Thomas Ogle. &c. at the Cock Tavern, in Bow Street, Covent Garden, as recorded by Anthony Wood (see his Life, p. 53, and h\s Athenarty, who aggravated it to the utmost, by making it the most scandalous thing in nature, and nothing more reproachful to religion than that ; the said company were summoiicd to the court of justice in Westminster Hall, where, being indicted of a riot before Sir Robert Hyde, lord chief justice of the Common Pleas, were all fined, and Sir Charles to the amount of 500/. Sir Robert Hyde asked him whether ever he read the book called The Complete Gentleman, &c., to which Sir Charles made answer, that set aside his lordship, he had read more books than himself, itc. The day for payment being appointed, Sir Charles desired Mr. Henry Killegrew, and another gentlfuian, to ai)ply themselves to his majesty to get it off; but instead of that, they beg'd the said sura of his majesty, and would not abate Sir Charles two-pence of the money." Pepys thus alludes to a somewhat similar frolic in 1CC8: "Pierce do tell me, among otiier news, the late frolic and debauchery of Sir Charles Sedley and Butkhurst running up and down all the night, almost naked, through the streets ; and at last fighting, and being beat by the watch and clapped up all night : and how the king takes their parts ; and my Lord Chief Justice Keeling hath laid the constable by the heels to answer it next sessions : which is a horrid shame."] Note 112, Page 189. Etheridge. Sir George Etheridge, author of three comedies, was bora about the yar 1G3G. He was, in James the Second's reign, employed abroad ; first a.« envoy to Hamburgh, and afterwards as minister at Ratisbon, where he died, about the time of the Revolution. The authors of the Biographia Britannica say that his death happened in consequence of an unlucky ac- cident ; for that, after having treated some company with a liberal enter- tainment at his house there (Ratisbon), where he had taken his glass too freely, and being, through his great complaisance, too forward in waiting 374 NOTES AND on his guests at their departure, flushed as he was, he tumbled down stairs, and broke his neck, and so fell a martyr to jollity and civility. Note 113, Page 191. A celebrated portrait painter, called Lely. Sir Peter Lely was bom at Soest, in Westphalia, 1617, and came to England in 1641. Lord Orford observes, " If Vandyck's portraits are often tame and spiritless, at least they are natural : his laboured draperies flow with ease, and not a fold but is placed with propriety. Lely supphed the want of taste with clinquant : his nymphs trail fringes and embroidery through meadows aud purling streams. Add, that Vandyck's habits are those of the times ; Leiy's a sort of fantastic night-gowns, fastened with a single pin. The latter was, in truth, the ladies' painter ; and whether the age was improved in beauty or in flattery, Leiy's women are certainly much handsomer than those of Vandyck. They please as much more as they evidently meaned to please. He caught the reigning character, and — ^-^ on the animated canvas stole The sleepy eye, that spoke the melting soul. I do not know whether, even in softness of the flesh, he did not excel his predecessor. The beauties at Windsor are the court of Paphos, and ought to be engraved for the memoirs of its charming biographer. Count Hamil- ton." — Anecdotes of Painting, vol. iii. p. 27. Sir Peter Lely died 1G80, aud was buried in St. Paul's, Covent Garden, Note 114, Page 192. Merciless fate robbed her of life. The lampoons of the day, some of which are to be found in Andrew Marvell's works, more than insinuated that she was deprived of Hfe by a mixture infused into some chocolate. The slander of the times imputed her death to the jealousy of the Duchess of York. [Pepys says in his Diary, Jan. 7th, 1666-7 : — " Lord Brouncker tells me, that my Lady Denham is at last dead. Some suspect her poisoned, but it wiU be best known when her body is opened to-day, she dying yes- terday morning. The Duke of York is troubled for her ; but hath de- clared he will never have another public mistress again ; which I shall be glad of, and would the king would do the like." It appears that her body was never opened, and Aubrey says, " she was poisoned by the hands of the CO. of Roc. with chocolate."] Note 115, Page 199. — he saw a very fine house, situated on the banks of a river, m the most delightful and pleasant country imaginable. This was Bretby, in the county of Derby. A late traveller has the fol- lowing reflections on this place — " Moving back again a few miles to the west, we trace, with sad reflection, the melancholy ruins and destruction ILLUSTRATIONS. 375 of what was onco the boasted beauty of the lovely country, viz. Bretby, the ancient seat of the Earls of Chesterfield. Nothing scarce is left of that former grandeur, those shades, those sylvan scenes that everywhere graced the most charming of all parks : the baneful hand of luxury hath, with rude violence, laid them waste. About ten years ago, the venerable and lofty pile was standing, and exhibited delightful magnificence to its fre- quent visitors : its ])ainted roofs and walls, besides a large collection of pictures, afforded much entertainment to the fond admirer of antique beauties ; and the whole stood as a lasting monument of fame and credit to its lordly owner. Would they were standing now ! but that thought is vain : — not only each surrounding monument, Ijut the very stones them- selves, have been converted to the purpose of filthy lucre." — Timr, in 1787, /rom London to the Western Highlands of Scotland, r2mo., p. 29. Note 116, Page 200. Mademoiselle de VOrme. Marion de I'Orme, born at Chalons, in Champagne, was esteemed the most beautiful woman of her times. It is believed that she was secretly married to the unfortunate Monsieur Cinqmars. After his death, she became the mistress of Cardinal Richelieu, and, at last, of Monsieur d'Emery, superintendent of the finances. Note 117, Page 204. Marquis de Flamarens. A Monsieur Flamarin, but whether the same person as here described cannot be exactly ascertained, is mentioned, in Sydney's Letters, to have been in England at a later period than is comprehended in these Memoirs. " Monsieur de Flamarin hath been received at Windsor as seriously as if it had been believed the Queen of Spain's marriage should not hold unless it were here approved ; and the formalities that are usMal with men of business having been observed to him, he is grown to think he is so." — Sydney's Works, p. 91. The following account of the singular duel which was the occasion of this nobleman coming to England is extracted from the " Memoirs of the Count de Rochefort," already quoted : — " A fortnight or three weeks after, as I mentioned before, the quarrel took place between Messrs. de la Frette, which did not terminate very happily. The eldest happened to be present at a ball given at court, which was attended by numerous persons of distinction ; on the company leanng the ball-room, this haughty man, who owed a grudge to ^I. de Chalais on account of a mistress, pushed purposely against him; M. de Chalais turning about to know the cause, and discovering la Frette, loaded him with the most opprobrious terms. Had swords been in the way, the affair would have taken a more serious turn, although the scene of action was ill adapted to such sort of discussions ; that the ball etiquette however might not be disturbed, La Frette made no reply, but waiting until coming out, then demanded satisfaction. It was in consequence agreed on be- 376 NOTES AND tween them to fight three against three ; and a spot being fixed upon, the next morning was appointed for tlie rencontre, it being then too late. In the mean time, the quarrel having happened too publicly to remain a se- cret, the king was informed of it, and immediately despatched the Cheva- lier St. Agnan, to inform La Frette that he forbade his having recourse to the means he proposed to avenge himself, and that if he still persisted in them, he should lose his head. The Chevalier St. Agnan, who was his first cousin, upon meeting with him, acquainted him with the commands of the king ; to which La Frette made answer, that he considered him too much his friend, to suppose that he would be instrumental in preventing the intended meeting, which was only delayed until daybi'eak : he added that he had better be himself a party in the contest, and that Chalais would not fail providing a match for him. The Chevalier St. Agnan, without considering that he was sent by the king, and that even allowing duels had not been so strictly prohibited as they were, he was still in- volving himself in a difficulty from which he could not hope to extricate himself, agreed to the request, and Chalais had notice given to him to provide him an antagonist. The Marquis de Noirmoustier, his brother- in-law, who was to assist him, being acquainted, as I said before, with the affair which had taken place betwixt La Frette and myself, I occurred to his mind, and he sent for me ; but luckily I had been engaged at play at a friend's house until it grew late ; and although at Paris it is not very customary to sleep from home, yet as it was reported that robbers were then much abroad, I was prevailed on to take a bed with him ; this cir- cumstance saved me ; and in this instance 1 was convinced, that fortune, who had long persecuted, was resolved not entirely to abandon me. The eight combatants were. La Frette, Ovarti, his brother, a lieutenant in the guards, the Chevalier de St. Agaan, the Mai-quis de Flammarin, the Prince de Chalais, the Marquis de Noirmoustier, the Marquis d'Antin, brother of Madame de Montespan, and the Viscomte d'Angeheu. The duel proved fatal only to the Marquis d'Antin, who was killed on the spot ; but notwithstanding the rest escaped his fate, they were all severely wounded. The king's anger was excessive, particularly against the Che- valier de St. Agnan, who was, in fact, more blameable than all the rest. Their fate, however, was equal ; their immediate object was to fly the kingdom disguised, the king having sent orders for their arrest to the sea- ports and confines of his dominions. Some of them went to Spain, others to Portugal, the remainder elsewhere, as best suited their views. But however desirable a residence in a foreign country may seem, it still sa- vours of banishment, and each had full leisure to repent his folly. No one bestowed any pity on the Chevalier de St. Agnan, thinking he had come off much better than he deserved ; neither did Messrs. de la Frette attract much compassion, having always evinced so quarrelsome a dispo- sition, that they could not be better compared than to those horses of a vicious character, who will suffer no others in the same stable with them- selves. Respecting the others, public opinion took a different turn: their misfortune was much pitied ; and it was hoped it had been possible that the king would have relaxed of his severity towards them. In fact, they were all persons of worth, and deserved a better fate. But no person } ILLUSTRATIONS. 377 durst mention it to the king ; even the Duke de St. Agnan, wlio was a good deal ahout liis person, was the first to tell his Majesty, that his son's mis- conduct was of a nature never to be pardoned ; that if he were acquainted with his place of retreat, he should be the first to discover it, in order to bring him to justice; that he should not, therefore, trouble his Majesty with intercessions in his behalf, and believed that every one would incline to ills way of thinking. This sj)eech might be very appropriate in the mouth of a courtier, wiio was endeavouring to gain the favour of hia jirince by every possible means ; but very ill becoming a parent, who, in- stead of blackening the transaction, should liave felt it his duty to have re- presented it in as favourable a light as possible. The relations of Messrs. de la Frette acted ditiereutly ; they did not dare themselves to speak to the king, but made use of every pos.sible means to move his compassion. The Duchess de Chaulnes prevailed on her husband, who was ambassador at Rome, to mention it to the Pope, and however much the Holy Father might approve of the king's conduct in this affair, he, nevertheless, pro- mised his assistance on this occasion ; accordingly, a few years after, hav- ing occasion to send a legate to France, on diti'erent business, and of an import unnecessary to mention here, he was charged to speak to the king on that subject, and to say that he took an interest in it. The duchess could not have emjdoyed an agent whose recommendation would have turned out more efficacious ; the Pope had it in his power to absolve the king from his oath, which was supposed to render him so rigid ; but he made answer to the legate, that in every other circumstance he would joy- fully oblige the Holy Father, but in this afiair, he had so bound himself, that God only could discharge him from so solemn an oath. Not that he doubted the authority of the Holy See; but as the duty he owed to God required him to be a prince of his word, he firmly believed that the Pope himself wjuld depart from the recommendation if he would but examine into its consequences." Note 118, Page 204. Countess de la Sitze. This lady was the daughter of Gaspar de Coligni, marshal of France, and was celebrated in her time for her wit and her elegies. She was one of the few women with whom Christina, Queen of Sweden, condescended to become intimate. Though educated a Protestant, she embraced the Roman Catholic religion, less from a motive of devotion, than to have a pretence of parting from her husband, who was a Protestant, and for whom she had an invincible abhorrence ; which occasioned the quern to say, " The Countess of Suze became a Catholic, that she mitrht neither meet her husband in this world tior the next." — See Lacombe's Life of Queen Christina. The countess died in 1673. Note 119, Page 204. Tambonnean. 1 find this person mentioned in Memoirs of the Court of France, 8vo., 1702, pt. ii. p. 42. 378 NOTES AND Note 120, Page 20G. Talbot, who was afterwards created Duke of Tyrconnel. Richard Talbot, the fifth son " of an Irish family, but of ancient Eng- lish extraction, which had always inhabited within that circle that wag called the Pale; which, being originally an English plantation, was, in so many hundred years, for the most part degenerated into the manners of the Irish, and rose and mingled with them in the late rebellion : and of this family there were two distinct families, who had competent estates, and lived in many descents in the rank of gentlemen of quality." Thus far Lord Clarendon; who adds, that Richard Talbot and his " brothers were all the sons, or the grandsons, of one who was a judge in Ireland, and esteemed a learned man." — Continuation of Clarendon. Of the person now under consideration the same writer appears, and with great reason, to have entertained a very ill opinion. Dick Talbot, as he was called, " was brought into Flanders first by Daniel O'Neile, as one who was willing to assassinate Cromwell ; and he made a journey into England with that resolution, not long before his death, and after it returned into Flanders, ready to do all that he should be required. He was a very handsome young man, wore good clothes, and was, vrithout doubt, of a clear, ready courage, which was virtue enough to recommend a man to the duke's good opinion ; which, with more expedition than could be ex- pected, he got, to that degree, that he was made of his bedchamber ; and from that qualification embarked himself, after the king's return, in the pretences of the Irish, with such an unusual confidence, and, upon private contracts, with such scandalous circumstances, that the chancellor hac? sometimes, at the council-table, been obliged to give him severe repre- hensions, and often desired the duke to withdraw his countenance from him." — Continuation of Clarendon. It is to be remembered that he was one of the men of honour already noticed. On King James's accession to the throne, he was created Earl of Tyrconnel, and placed, as lieute- nant-general, at the head of the Irish army, where his conduct was so agreeable to his sovereign, that he was, in 1689, advanced to the dignity of Duke of Tyrconnel. He was afterwards employed by the king in Ire- land, where his efforts were without effect. The Duke of Berwick says, " his stature was above the ordinary size. He had great experience of the world, having been early introduced into the best company, and pos- sessed of an honourable employment in the household of the Duke of York ; who, upon his succession to the crown, raised him to the digniiy of an earl, and well knowing his zeal and attachment, made him soon after viceroy of Ireland. He was a man of very good sense, very obliging, but immoderately vain, and full of cunning. 'Though he had acquired great possessions, it could not be said that he had employed improper means ; for he never appeared to have a passion for money. He had not a mili- tary genius, but much courage. After the Prince of Orange's invasion, his firmness preserved Ireland, and he nobly refused all the offers that were made to induce him to submit. From the time of the battle of the Boyne, he sank prodigiously, being become as irresolute in his mind as unwieldy in his person." — Memoirs, vol. i. p. 9-1. [He is said to have ILLVSTHATIONS. -179 died suddenly by poison, administered in a cup of ratafia.] He died »t Limerick, oth August, IG'Jl. Note 121, Page 207. One of these brothers vas almoner to the queen. Tliis was Peter Tnlbot, whose character is drawn by Lord Clarendon in terms not more favouraljle than tliose in which his brother is portrayed. — See Continuation of Clarendon, p. 363. Note 122, Page 207. (he other was called a lay-monk. Thomas Talbot, a Franci.scan friar, of wit enough, says Lord Claren- don, but of notorious debauchery. More particulars of this man may be found in the same noble historian. — See Continuation of Clarendon, p. %3. Note 123, Page 207. which offended the Duke of Ormond. A very exact account of this transaction is given Lord Clarendon, by which it appears that Talbot was committed to the Tower for threaten- ing to assassinate the Duke of Ormond. — Continuation of Clarendon, p. 3C2. Note 121, Page 209. Lord Cornwallis. Charles, the third Lord Cornwallis, born in 1655. He married, De- cember 27, 1673, Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Sir Stephen Fox, knight, and afterwards, in 1688, the widow of the Duke of Monmouth. Lord Cornwallis died AprU 29, 1698. Note 125, Page 209. Sir Stephen Fox. This gentleman is said to have been of a genteel family, settled at Farley, in Wiltsliire, and was the architect of his own fortune. Lord Clarendon says, in his History of the Rebellion, that he was entertained by Lord Percy, then lord-chambcrlaiu of the king's household, at Paris, about the year 1652, and continued in his majesty's serv-ice until the Restoration. On that event he was made clerk of the green cloth, and afterwards paymaster-general of the forces in England. On the 1st July, 1665, he was knighted. In 1680, he was constituted one of the lords com- missioners of the treasury. On the accession of James II. he was con- tinued first clerk of the green cloth ; and, in December, 1686, was again appointed one of the commissioners of the treasury. At the Revolution, he concurred in voting the throne vacant ; and, on 19th March, 1689, was a third time apjjointed to the treasury ; which place he held until he retired from public business, in 1701. By his first lady he had se-:en sons and three daughters ; and by his second, whom he married in the 330 NOTES AXD year 1703, when he was seventy-six years of age, he had two sons, who both afterwards became peers,— Stephen, Earl of llchester, and Henry, Lord Holland, and two daughters. He died in the year 1716, at Chis- wick, in his eighty-ninth year. Note 126, Page 211. Lord Taafe, eldest son of the Earl of Carlingford. Nicholas, the third Viscount Taafe, and second Earl of Carlingford. He was of the privy-council to King James II., and, in 1689, went as envoy to the Emperor Leopold. He lost his life the next year, 1st July, at the battle of the Boyne, commanding at that time a regiment of foot. This nobleman, although he succeeded his father in his title, was not his eldest son. King Charles appears to have had a great regard for the family. In a letter from Lord Arlington to Sir Richard Fanshaw, dated April 21, 1664, that nobleman says, " Colonel Luke Taafe (a brother of my Lord Carlingford 's) hath served his Catholic majesty many j^ears in the state of Milan, with a standing regiment there ; which regiment he desires now to deliver over to Captain Nicholas Taafe, a younger son of my Lord Carlingford's, and the colonel's nephew, who is now a captain of the regiment : and his majesty commands me to recommend to your excellency the bringing this to pass, for the affection he hatn to the family, and the merit of this young gentleman." — Arlington's Letters, vol. ii. p. 21. Note 127, Page 211. The Duke of Richmond. Charles Stewart, Duke of Richmond and Lennox. He was afterwards sent ambassador to Denmark, and died at Elsineur, December 12, 1672. Burnet says, he " was sent to give a lustre to the negotiation, which was chiefly managed by Mr. Hensaw." — History of his Own Times, vol. i. p. 425. [For particulars of his marriage with Miss Stewart, see note 169.] Note 128, Page 211. Mademoiselle de la Garde, Daughter of Charles Peliot, Lord de la Garde, whose eldest daughter married Sir Thomas Bond, comptroller of the household to the queen- mother. Sir Thomas Bond had a considerable estate at Peckham. and his second son married the niece of Jermyn, one of the heroes of these Memoirs. — See Collins's Baronetage, vol. iii. p. 4. She became the wife of Sir Gabriel Silvius, and died 13th October, 1730. Note 129, Page 216. Mr. Silvius, Afterwards Sir Gabriel Silvius. In Chamherlayne' s Anglioe. Notitia, 1669, Gabriel de Sylvus is put down as one of the carvers to the queen, and Mrs. de Sylvus, one of the six chambriers or dressers to the queen. ILLL'STRATIONS 381 He was afterwards kniijlitoJ, anil, 30th February, 1680, was sent ambas- sador to the Uukes of Brunswick and Lunenburi^h. Lord Orford siiys, he was a native of Oransre, and was attached to the priucess-royal, after- wards to tlio Duke of York. He also says, he was sent ambassador to Denmark. Note 130, Page 217, Progers. Edward Propers, Esq., was a younger son of Philip Progers, Esq., of the family of Ciaireddin, in Monmouthshire. His father was a colonel in the army, and e(|Utrry to James I. Edward was early introduced to court, and, after having been page to Charles 1., was made groom of the bedchambex to his son, while Prince of Wales. He attached himself to the king's interest during the war with the parliament, with laudable fidelity. The following letter, from which antiquaries may derive the minute inforniation that Charles II. did wear mourning for a whole year for his father, serves to shew the familiar style which Charles used to Progers, as well as his straitened circumstances while in the island of Jersey. " Progers, I wold have you (besides the enibroidred sute) bring rae a plaine riding suite, with an innocent coate, the suites 1 haue for horse- backe being so spotted and spoiled that they are not to be scene out of this island. The lining of the coate, and the petit toies are referred to your greate discretion, provided there wunt nothing when it comes to be put on. 1 doe not remember there was a belt, or a hat-band, in your directions for the embroiderd suite, and those are so necessarie as vou must not forget them. •' Jearspii. \Ath Jan. old stile, 1649. " Charles R." '• For Mr. Progers." By a letter from Cowley to Henry Bennet, dated 18th November, 1650, Mr. Progers appears to have been then active in his master's ser- vice.— £ro«-«'* Miscellanea Avlica, 1702, p. l.=)3. In the lampoons of the times, particularly in those of Andrew Marvell, Mr. Progers is described as one devoted to assist his nKL-ter's pleasures; for which reason, perhaps, he was banished from the king's presence in 1650, by an act of the estates of Scotland, " as an evil instrument and bad coun- sellor of the king." He is said to have obtained several grants to take effect upon the restoration ; but it does not appear that they took effect. In 1660, he was named, says Lord Orford, one of the knights of the royal oak, an order the king then intended to institute. By the same authority we are informed that he had permission from the king to build a house in Bushy-park, near Hampton-court, on condition that, after his death, it should revert to the crown. This was the house inhabited by the late Earl of Hallifa.\. He represented the county of Brecon in parliament for seventeen years, but retired in 1679. On the death of his master, he retired from public life. Mr. Progers died, says Le Neve, " December 31st, or January 1st, 1713, aged ninety-si.x, of the anguish of catting teeth, he having cut four new teeth and had several oo2 NOTES AND ready to cut, which so inflamed his gums, that he died thereof." He was in low circumstances before his death, and applied to King James for relief, with what effect is not known. Mr. Progers had a family by his wife Elizabeth Wells ; and the scandal-bearers of the time remarked, that his eldest daughter Phihppa, afterwards Mrs. Croxel, bore a strong resemblance to Charles II. — Monumenta Anglicana, I7I7, p. 273. Note 131, Page 219. Dongon. The only notice of this person I have anywhere seen, is in the follow- ing extract of a letter from Sir Richard Fanshaw to Lord Arlington, dated 4th June, 1664. — " I ought not, in justice to an honourable person, to conclude before I acquaint your honour, that I have this day seen a letter, whereby it is certified, from my Lord Dongon (now at Heres), that, if there were any ship in Cadiz bound for Tangier, he would go over in her, to do his majesty what service he could in that garrison ; which, he saith, he fears wants good officers very much." — Fanshaw' s Letters, vol. i. p. 104. Note 132, Page 219. Durfort, afterwards Earl of Feversham. Lewis de Duras, Earl of Feversham, a native of France, being son of the Duke de Duras, and brother to the last duke of that name, as also to the Duke de Lorge. His mother was sister to the great Turenne, of the princely house of BouUlon. After the Restoration he came to England, was naturalized, and behaved with great gallantry in the sea-fight with the Dutch, in 1665. When he first came to England, he bore the name of Durfort, and the title of Marquis of Blancfort. In the twenty-fourth Charles II. he was created Baron Duras of Holdenby, in the county of Northampton ; and having married Mary, the eldest daughter and co-heir of Sir George Sondes, of Lees Court, in the county of Kent, who had been created Earl of Feversham, the same title was limited to him, and he succeeded to it on the death of his father-in-law. Besides these honours, King Charles preferred him to the command of the third troop of horse guards, afterwards promoted him to the second, and then to the first. In 1679, he was made master of the horse to Queen KatherLne, and afterwards lord-chamberlain to her majesty. Upon King James's accession, he was admitted into the privy council, and was commander- in-chief of the forces sent against the Duke of Monmouth. After the Revolution, he continued lord-chamberlain to the queen-dowager, and master of the royal college of St. Katherine's, near the Tower. He died April 8th, 1709, aged sixty-eight, and was buried in the Savoy, in the Strand, London; but removed, March 21st, 1740, to Westminster- abbey. Note 133, Page 220. Miss Bagot. Elizabeth, daughter of Hervey Bagot, second son of Sir Hervey Bagot. She married first Charles Berkley, Earl of Falmouth, and, after his death , ILLUSTKATIOXS. 3.S3 Charles Sackville, wlio became the first Duke of Dorset. From the pen of a satirist much dependence is not to be jdaced for the truth of facts. This lady's character is treated by Dryden and Mulgrave with very little respect, in the following lines, extracted from " ITie Essay on Satire :" "Thus Dorset, purring like a thoughtful cat, IMarruil ; but wiser puss ne'er thought of that : And first he worried her with railing rhyme, Like Pembroke's mastiffs at his kindest time ; Then for one night sold all his slavish life, A teeming widow, but a barren wife ; Swell'd by contact of such a fulsome toad, He lugg'd about the matrimonial load ; Till fortune, blindly kind as well as he, Has ill restored him to his liberty ; Which he would use in his old sneaking way, Drinking all night, and dosing all the day ; Dull as Ned Howard, whom his brisker times Had famed for dulness in malicious rhymes." Note 1.34, Page 221. Miss Jennings. This lady was one of the daughters and co-heirs of Richard Jennings, of Sundridge, in the county of Hertford, Esquire, and elder sister to the celebrated Duchess of Marlborough. Her name was Frances. She mar- ried George Hamilton, mentioned in these Memoirs; and after his death took to her second husband Richard Talbot, already mentioned, created Duke of Tyrconnel by James II., whose fortunes he followed. Lord Melfort, secretary to that prince, appears to have conceived no very fa- vourable opinion of this lady ; for in a letter to his master, dated October, 1689, he says, " There is one other thing, if it could be effectuated, were of infinite use; w-hich is the getting the Duchess of Tyrconnel, for her health, to come into France. I did not know she had been so well known here as she is ; but the terms they give her, and which, for your service, I may repeat unto you, is, that she has I'ame la plus noire qui se puisse concevoir. I think it would help to keep that peace so necessary for you, and prevent that caballing humour which has very ill effects." — Macpher- son's State Papers, vol. i. In 1699 she is mentioned in a letter from the Earl of Manchester to Lord Jersey, as one of the needy Jacobites of King James's court, to whom .3,000 crowns, part of that monarch's pension, had been distributed. — Coles's Stale Papers, p. 53. In 1705 she was in England, and had an interview with her brother-in-law, the Duke of Marlborough, with whose family she seems not to have lived in any terms of cordiality. — Macpherson, vol. i. [Respecting her sojourn in London, Horace Walpole relates the follow- ing singular anecdote. '• At that time, j)art of the Royal Exchange was let out in small stalls or shojis, perhaps something like a modern bazaar, and was a favourite and fasluouable resort of women of the highest rank. 384 NOTES AND It is said that the Ducliess of Tyrconnel, being reduced to absolute want on her arrival in England, and unable for some time to procure secret access to her family, hired one of the stalls under the Royal Exchange, and maintained herself by the sale of small articles of haberdashery. She wore a white dress wrapping her whole person, and a white mask, which she never removed, and excited much interest and curiosity." Mrs. Jameson adds, " She afterwards obtained the restoration of a small part of her husband's property, with permission to reside in Dublin. To that city, perhaps, endeared to her as the scene of past happiness, and power, and splendour, she returned in 170G, a widow, poor, proscribed, and broken-hearted. While her high-spirited sister, the Duchess of Marl- borough, was ruling the councils of England, or playing a desperate and contemptible game for power, the Duchess of Tyrconnel withdrew from the world : she established on the site of her husband's house, in Kinp- Street, a nunnery of the order of Poor Clares, and she passed in retreat, and the practice of the most austere devotion, the rest of her varied life. Her death was miserable : one cold wintry night, during an intense frost, she fell out of her bed ; and being too feeble to rise or call for assistance, she was discovered next morning lying on the floor in a state of insensi- bility. It was found impossible to restore warmth or motion to her fro- zen limbs ; and after lingering a few hours in a half-lethargic state, she gradually sank into death. She expired on the 29th of February, 1730, in her eighty- second year : and on the 9th of March following, she was interred in the cathedral church of St. Patrick."] Note 135, Page 222. Miss Temple. Anne, daughter of Thomas Temple, of Frankton, in the county of Warwick, by Rebecca, daughter of Sir Nicholas Carew, of Beddington, in Surrey, Knight. She afterwards became the second wife of Sir Charles Lyttelton, by whom she had five sons and eight daughters. She was grandmother of the celebrated Lord Lyttelton ; and died 27th August, 1718. Her husband. Sir Charles I^yttelton, lived to the advanced age of eighty -six years ; and died at Hagley, May 2nd, 1716. Note 136, Page 225. St. Albans. This town is in the neighbourhood of Sundridge, where Miss Jennings' family resided. Note 137, Page 230. The Earl of Oxford fell in love with a handsome, graceful actress, belonging to the duke's theatre. This was Aubery de Vsre, the last Earl of Oxford of that name, and the twentieth and last earl of that family. He was chief j ustice in eyre ; and in the reign of Charles II. lord of the bedchamber, privy counsel- lor, colonel of the royal regiment of horse guards, and lord-lieutenant of tlie county of Essex ; and lieutenant-general of the forces in the rtign of ILLUSTRATIONS. 38.5 William III., and also knight of the garter. He died March 12th. 1 702, aged eighty years and upwards, and was buried in Westminster Aht)ey. The author of a History of the English Stage, published by Carl, l/tl, 8vo., says, that Mrs. Marshall, a celebrated actress, more known by the name of Uoxana, from acting that part, was the person deceived by the Earl of Oxford in this manner. [Evelyn says, Jan. 9th : — " I saw acted ' The Third I'art of the Siege of Rhodes.' In this acted the fair and famous comedian, called Roxalana, from tlie part she ])crforn)ed ; and I think it was the last, she being taken to be the Earl of Oxford's Misse (as at this time they began to call lewd women). It was in recitative music."] The particulars of the story, as there related, do not materially vary from the present account of the transaction. A more detailed narrative of this seduction is given in Madam Dunois's Memoirs of the Court of England, pt. 2, p. 71. Mrs. Marshall, who was tlie original Roxana in Lee's Rival Queens, belonged not to the duke's, but the king's theatre. Lord Or- ford, I know not on what authority, has given the name of Mrs. Barker to this lady ; a name totally unknown, I believe, in the annals of the stage. Note 13S, Page 246. The public was obliged to /lim for the prettiest, but, at the same time, the worst actress in the kingdom. Though no name is given to this lady, there are circumstances enough mentioned to fix on the celebrated Mrs. Barry, as the person intended by the author. Mrs. Barry was introduced to the stage by Lord Rochester, ■with whom she had an intrigue, the fruit of which was a daughter, who lived to the age of thirteen years, and is often mentioned in his collection of love-letters, printed in his works, which were written to Mrs. Barry. On her first theatrical attempts, so little hopes were entertained of her, that she was, as Cibber declares, discharged the company at the end of the first vear, among others that were thought to be a useless expense to it. She was well born ; being daughter of Robert Barry, Esq., barrister- at-law ; a gentleman of an ancient family and good estate, who hurt his fortune by his attachment to Charles I.; for whom he raised a regiment at his own expense. Tony Aston, in his " Supplement to Cibber's Apo- logy," says, she was woman to Lady Shelton, of Norfolk, who might have belonged to the court. Curl, however, says, she was early taken under the patronage of Lady Davenant. Both these accounts may be true. The time of her appearance on tlie stage was probably not much earlier than 1G71 ; in which year she performed in Tom Essence, and was, it may be conjectured, about the age of nineteen. Curl mentions the great pains taken by Lord Rochester in instructing her ; which were repaid by the rapid progress she daily made in her profession. She at last eclipsed all her competitors, and in the part of ^Ionimia established her reputation. From her performance in this character, in that of Belvidera, and of Isa- bella, in the Fatal Marriage, Downes says she acquired the name of the famous Mrs. Barry, both at court and in the city. " Mrs. Barry," says Dryden, in his Preface to Cleomenes, "always excellent, has in this tra- gedy excelled herself, and gained a reputation beyond any woman I have 2 c 386 KOTES AND ever seen on the theatre." " In characters of greatness," says Gibber, " Mrs. Barry had a presence of elevated dignity ; her mien and motion superb, and gracefully majestic ; her voice full, clear, and strong ; so that no violence of passion could be too much for her ; and when distress or tenderness possessed her, she subsided into the most affecting melody and softness. In the art of exciting pity, she had a power beyond all the ac- tresses I have yet seen, or what your imagination can conceive. In scenes of anger, defiance, or resentment, while she was impetuous and terrible, she poured out the sentiment with an enchanting harmony ; and it was this particular excellence for which Dryden made her the above-recited com- pliment, upon her acting Cassandra in his Cleomenes. She was the first person whose merit was distinguished by the indulgence of having an annual benefit play, which was granted to her alone in King James's time, and which did not become common to others till the division of this company, after the death of King William and Queen Mary." — Cibber'n Apology, 1750, p. 133. Tony Aston says, " She was not handsome ; her mouth opening most on the right side, which she strove to draw t'other way ; and at times composing her face, as if sitting for her picture : she was," he adds, "middle-sized; had darkish hair, light eyes, and was in- differently plump. In tragedy, she was solemn and august ; in comedy, alert, easy, and genteel ; pleasant in her face and action ; filling the stage with variety of gesture. She could neither sing nor dance ; no, not in a country dance." — Supplement to Cibber, p. 7. The printed letters in Otway's works are generally supposed to have been addressed to her. She adhered to Betterton in all the revolutions of the theatre, which she quitted about 1708, on account of her health. The last new character, of any consequence, which she performed, seems to have been Phsedra, in Mr. Smith's tragedy. She returned, however, for one night, with Mrs. Brace- girdle, April 7, 1709 ; and performed Mrs. Frail, in Love for Love, for Mr. Betterton's benefit ; and afterwards spoke an occasional epilogue, written by Mr. Rowe. She died 7th November, 1713, and was buried at Acton. The inscription over her remains says she was fifty-five years of age. Note 139, Page 247. Miss Boynton. Daughter of Matthew Boynton, second son of Sir Matthew Boynton. of Barmston, in Yorkshire. The sister of this lady married the celebratea Earl of Roscommon. Note 140, Page 251. Pitiful strolling actress. Probably Nell Gwyn. Note 141, Page 251. Immediately give her the title of duchess. ITie title of Duchess of Cleveland was conferred on her 3rd August, 22 Charles II., 1670. ILLUSTRATIONS. 387 Note 142, Page 255. The recent arrival uf a famous German doctor. Bishop Burnet confirms this account. — " Bciiic under an unlucky acci- dent, wliich oblitjed him to keep out of the way, he di.sijuiscd himself so, that his nearest friends could not have known him, and set up in Tower- street for an Italian mountebank, where he practised jihysic for some weeks, not without success. In his latter years he read books of history more. He took pleasure to disguise himself as a porter, or as a beggar ; sometimes to follow some mean amours, which, for the variety of them, he affected. At other times, merely for diversion, he would go about in odd shapes ; in which he acted his part so naturally, that even those who were in the secret, and saw him in these shapes, could perceive nothing by which he might be discovered." — Burnet's Life of Rochester, ed. 1774, p. 14. [Lord Rochester's speech when he exhibited as a mountebank on Tower Hill, is so remarkable a document, that it seems well worthy of a place here. " To all gentlemen, ladies, and others, whether of city, tovni, or coun- try, Alexander Bendo wisheth all health and prosperity. " Whereas this famed metropolis of England (and were the endeavours of its worthy inhabitants equal to their power, merit, and virtue, I should not stick to denounce it, in a short time, the metropolis of the whole world) ; whereas, I say, this city (as most great ones are) has ever been infested with a numerous company of such, whose arrogant confidence, backed with their ignorance, has enabled them to impose on the people, either by premeditated cheats, or at best, the palpable, dull, and empty mistakes of their self-deluded imagination in physic, chymical and Gale- nic ; in astrology, physiognomy, palmistry, mathematics, alchymy, and even in government itself, the last of which I will not propose to discourse of, or meddle at all in, since it in no way belongs to my trade or vocation, as the rest do ; which (thanks to my God) I find much more safe, I think equally honest, and therefore more jirofitable. " But as to all the former, they have been so erroneously practised by many unlearned wretches, whom poverty and r.eediness, for the most part (if not the restless itch of deceiving), has forced to straggle and wander in unknown parts, that even the professions themselves, though originally the products of the most learned and wise men's laborious studies and experience, and by them left a wealthy and glorious inheritance for ages to come, seem, by this bastard race of quacks and cheats, to have been run out of all wisdom, learning, perspicuousness, and truth, with which they were so plentifully stocked ; and now run into a repute of mere mists, imaginations, errors, and deceits, such as, in the management of these idle professors, indeed they were. " You will therefore, I hope, gentlemen, ladies, and others, deem it but just that I, who for some years have with all faithfulness and assiduity courted these arts, and received such signal favours from them, that they have admitted me to the happy and full enjoyment of themselves, and trusted me with their greatest secrets, should with an earnestness and con- 2 c 2 388 NOTES AND cern more than ordinary, take their parts against those impudent fops, whose saucy, impertinent addresses and pretensions have brought such a scandal upon their most immaculate honours and reputations. " Besides, I hope you will not think I could be so impudent, that if I had intended any such foul play myself, I would have given you so fair warning, by my severe observations upon others. ' Qui alterum incusant probri, ipsum se intueri oportet,' says Plautus. However, gentlemen, in a world like this, where virtue is so exactly counterfeited, and hypocrisy so generally taken notice of, that every one, armed with suspicion, stands upon his guard against it, it will be very hard, for a stranger, especially, to escape censure. All I shall say for myself on this score is this : — if I appear to any one like a counterfeit, even for the sake of that, chiefly, ouirht 1 to be construed a true man. Who is tiie counterfeit's example .' His original ; and that, which he employs his industry and pains to imi- tate and copy. Is it therefore my fault, if the cheat by his wits and endeavours makes himself so like me, that consequently I cannot avoid resembling him 1 Consider, pray, the valiant and the coward, the wealthy merchant and the bankrupt, the politician and the fool ; they are the same in many things, and differ but in one alone. " The valiant man holds up his head, looks confidently round about him, wears a sword, courts a lord's wife, and owns it; so does the coward : one only point of honour excepted, and that is courage, which (like false metal, one only trial can discover) makes the distinction. " The bankrupt walks the exchange, buys bargains, draws bills, and accepts them with the richest, whilst paper and credit are current coin : that which makes the difference is real cash ; a great defect indeed, and yet but one, and thai, the last found out, and still, till then, the least perceived. " Now for the politician: — he is a grave, deliberating, close, prying man : pray are there not grave, deliberating, close, prying fools .' " If then the difference betwixt all these (though infinite in effect) be so nice in all appearance, will you expect it should be otherwise betwixt the false physician, astrologer, etc., and the true ? The first calls himself learned doctor, sends forth his bills, gives physic and counsel, tells and foretels ; the other is bound to do just as much : it is only your experi- ence must distinguish betwixt them ; to which I willingly submit myself. I will only say something to the honour of the mountebank, in case you discover me to be one. " Reflect a little what kind of creature it is : — he is one then, who is fain to supply some higher ability he pretends to with craft ; he draws great companies to him by undertaking strange things, which can never be effected. The politician (by his example no doubt) finding how the people are taken with specious miraculous impossibilities, plays the same game ; protests, declares, promises I know not what things, which he is sure can never be brought about. The people believe, are deluded, and pleased; the expectation of a future good, which shall never befal them, draws their eyes off a present evil. Thus are they kept and established in subjection, peace, and obedience ; he in greatness, wealth, and power. So you see the politician is, and must be a mountebank in state affairs ; ILLUSTRATIONS. 389 and the mountebank no doubt, if he tlirivcs, is an errant politician in physic. But that I may not prove too tedious, 1 will proceed faithfully to inform you, what are the things in which I pretend chiefly, at this time, to serve my country. " First, I will (by the leave of God) perfectly cure that tabes Britan- nica, or grand EiKjlix It (Unease, the scurry ; and that with such ease to my patient, that he shall not be sensible of the least inconvenience, whilst I steal his distemper from him. I know there are many, who treat this disease with mercury, antimony, spirits, and salts, being dangerous re- medies ; in which, I shall meddle very little, and with great caution ; but by more secure, gentle, and less fallible medicines, together with the observation of some few rules in diet, perfectly cure the patient, having freed him from all the symptoms, as looseness of the teeth, scorbutick spots, want of appetite, pains and lassitude in the limbs and joints, espe- cially the legs. And to say true, there are few distempers in this nation that are not, or at least proceed not oi^iginally from the scurvy ; which, were it well rooted out (as I make no question to do it from all those who shall come into my hands), there would not be heard of so many gouts, aches, droj)sies, and consumptions; nay, even those thick and slimy humours, which generate stones in the kidneys and bladder, are for the most part offsprings of the scurvy. It would jirove tedious to set down all its malignant race ; but those who address themselves here, shall be still informed by me of the nature of their distempers, £md the grounds I proceed upon to their cure : so will all reasonable people be satis- fied that I treat them with care, honesty, and understanding ; for I am not of their opinion, who endeavour to render their vocations rather mysterious than useful and satisfactory. " I will not here make a catalogue of diseases and distempers ; it be- hoves a physician, I am sure, to understand them all ; but if anyone come to me (as I think there are very few that have escaped my practice) I shall not be ashamed to own to my patient, where I find myself to seek ; and, at least, he shall be secure with me from having experiments tried upon him ; a privilege he can never hope to enjoy, either in the hands of the grand doctors of the court and Tower, or in those of the lesser quacks and mountebanks. " It is thought fit, that I assure you of great secrecy, as well as care, in diseases, where it is requisite ; whether venereal or others ; as some peculiar to women, the green-sickness, weaknesses, inflammations, or obstructions in the stomach, reins, liver, spleen, &.c. ; for I would put no word in my bill that bears any unclean sound ; it is enough that I make myself understood. I have seen physician's bills as bawdy as Aretine's Dialogues, which no man, that walks warily before God, can approve of; but I cure all suffocations, in those parts, producing fits of the mother, convulsions, nocturnal inquietudes, and other strange acci- dents, not fit to be set down here ; persuading young women very often that their hearts are like to break for love, when God knows, the distemper lies far enough from that place. " I have, likewise, got the knowledge of a great secret to cure barren- ness (proceeding from any accidental cause as it often falls out, and no 390 NOTES AND natural defect ; for nature is easily assisted, difficultly restored, but impos sible to be made more perfect by man, than God himself had at first created and bestowed it), which I have made use of for many years with great success, especially this last year, wherein I have cured one woman that had been married twenty years, and another that had been married one and twenty years, and two women that had been three times mar- ried ; as I can make appear by the testimonies of several persons in London, Westminster, and other places thereabouts. The medicines I use cleanse and strengthen the womb, and are all to be taken in the space of seven days. And because I do not intend to deceive any person, upon discourse with them, I will tell them whether I am like to do them any good. My usual contract is, to receive one-half of what is agreed upon, when the party shall be quick with child, the other half when she is brought to bed. " Cures of this kind I have done, signal and many ; for the which, I doubt not but I have the good wishes and hearty prayers of many fami- lies, who had else pined out their days under the deplorable and reproach- ful misfortunes of barren wombs, leaving plentiful estates and possessions to be inherited by strangers. " As to astrological predictions, physiognomy, divination by dreams, and otherwise (palmistry I have no faith in, because there can be no reason alleged for it), my own experience has convinced me more of their considerable effects, and marveUous operations, chiefly in the directions of future proceedings, to the avoiding of dangers that threaten, and laying hold of advantages that might offer themselves ; I say, my own practice has convinced me, more than all the sage and wise writings extant, of those matters ; for I might say this of myself (did it not look like osten- tation), that I have very seldom failed in my predictions, and often been very serviceable in my advice. How far I am capable in this way, I am sure is not fit to be delivered in print : those who have no opinion of the truth of this art, will not, I suppose, come to me about it ; such as have, I make no question of giving them ample satisfaction. " Nor will I be ashamed to set down here my willingness to practise rare secrets (though somewhat collateral to my profession), for the help, conservation, and augmentation of beauty and comehness ; a thing created at first by God, chiefly for the glory of his own name, and then for the better establishment of mutual love between man and woman ; for when God had bestowed on man the power of strength and wisdom, and thereby rendered woman liable to the subjection of his absolute will, it seemed but requisite that she should be endued likewise, in recompense, with some quality that might beget in him admiration of her, and so enforce his tenderness and love. " The knowledge of these secrets, I gathered in my travels abroad (where I have spent my time ever since I was fifteen years old, to this my nine and twentieth year) in France and Italy. Those that have tra- velled in Italy, will tell you what a miracle art does there assist nature in the {oreservation of beauty ; how women of forty bear the same coun- tenance with those of fifteen : ages are no way distinguished by faces ; whereas, here in England, look a horse in the mouth, and a woman in tlis ILLUSTRATIONS. 391 face, you presently know both their ages to a year. I will, therefore, give you such remedies, that, without di-stroying your complexion (as most of your paints and daul)ings do), shall rendi-r them perfectly fair ; clearing and preserving them from all sjiots, freckles, heats, pimples, and marks of the small-pox, or any other accidental ones, so the face be not seamed or scarred. " I will also cleanse and preserve your teeth white and round as pearls, fastening them that are loose : your gums shall be kept entire, as red as coral ; your lips of the same colour, and soft as you could wish your law- ful kisses. " I will likewise administer that which shall cure the worst of breaths, provided the lungs be not totally perished and imposthumated ; as also certain and infallible remedies for those whose breaths are yet untainted ; so that nothing but either a very long sickness, or old age itself, shall ever be able to spoil them. " I will, besides (if it be desired) take aiuay from their fatness, who have over much, and add flesh to those that want it, without the least de- triment to their constitutions. " Now, should Galen himself look out of his grave, and tell me these were baubles, below the profession of a j)hysician, 1 would boldly answer him, that I take more glory in preserving God's image in its unblemished beauty, upon one good face, than I should do in patching up all the de- cayed carcasses in the world. " They that will do me the favour to come to me, shall be sure, from three of the clock in the afternoon, till eight at night (at my lodgings in Tower-street, next door to the sign of the Black Swan, at a goldsmith's house, to tind "Their humble servant, " Alexander Bendo."] Note 143, Page 257. The best disguise they could think of, u-as to disguise themselves like orange-girls. These frolics appear to have been not unfrequcnt with persons of high rank at this period. In a letter from Mr. Henshaw to Sir Robert Paston, afterwards Earl of Yarmouth, dated October 13, 1670, we have the fol- lowing account : " Last week, there being a faire neare Audley-end, the queen, the Dutchess of Richmond, and the Dutchess of Buckingham, had a froliok to disguise themselves like country lasses, in red petticoats, wast- cotes, &c., and so goe see the faire. Sir Bernard Gascoign, on a cart jade, rode before the queen ; another stranger before the Dutchess of Bucking- ham ; and Mr. Roper before Richmond. They had all so overdone it in their disguise, and looked so much more like antiques than country volk, that, as soon as they came to the faire, the people began to goe after them ; but the queen going to a booth, to buy a pair of yellow stockins for her sweet hart, and Sir Bernard asking for a pair of gloves sticht with blew, for his sweet hart, they were soon, bf their gebrish, found to be strangers, which drew a bigger flock about them. One amongst them had seen the 392 XOTES AND queen at dinner, knew her, and was proud of her knowicdge. This sooii brought, all the faire into a crowd to stare at the queen. Being thus dis- covered, they, as soon as they could, got to their horses ; but as many of the faire as had horses got up, with their wives, children, sweet harts, or neighbours, behind them, to get as much gape as they could, till they brought them to the court gate. Thus, by ill conduct, was a merry frolick turned into a penance." — Ives's Select Papers, p. 39. Bishop Burnet says, " At this time (1668), the court fell into much ex- travagance in masquerading : both the king and queen, and all the court, went about masked, and came into houses unknown, and danced there, with a great deal of wild frolic. In all this people were so disguised, that, without being in tlie secret, none could distinguish them. They were car- ried about in hackney chairs. Once the queen's chairmen, not knowing who she was, went from her. So she was alone, and was much disturbed, and came to Whitehall in a hackney coach ; some say in a cart." — Bur- net's History, vol. i. p. 368. Note 144, Page 259 Brounker. Gentleman of the chamber to the Duke of York, and brother to Lord Viscount Brounker, president of the Royal Society. Lord Clarendon im- putes to him the cause of the great sea-fight, in 1665, not being so well improved as it might have been, and adds, " Nor did the duke come to hear of it till some years after, when Mr. Brounker's ill course of life, and his abominable nature, had rendered him so odious, that it was taken no- tice of in parliament, and, upon examination, found to be true, as is here related ; upon which he was expelled the House of Commons, whereof he was a member, as an infamous person, tho\igh his friend Coventry adhered to him, and used many indirect acts to have protected him, and afterwards procured him to have more countenance from the king than most men thought he deserved ; being a person, throughout his whole life, never notorious for any thing but the highest degree of impudence, and stooping to the most infamous offices, and playing very well at chess, which pre- ferred him more than the most virtuous qualities could have done." — Continuation of Clarendon's Life, p. 270. [The English fleet on this occasion was commanded by James, Duke of York. Burnet says, " When the two fleets met, it is well known what accidents disordered the Dutch, and what advantage the English had. If that first success had been followed, as was proposed, it might have been fatal to the Dutch, who, finding they had suffered so much, steered off. The duke ordered all the sail to be set on to overtake them. There was a council of war called, to concert the method of action, when they should come up with them. In that council, Pen, who commanded under the duke, happened to say that they must prepare for hotter work in the next engagement. He knew well the courage of the Dutch was never so high, as when they were desperate. The Earl of Montague, who was then a volunteer, and one of the duke's court, said to me, it was very visible that made an impression. And all the duke's domestics said, he had got ILLUSTRATIONS. 393 honour enough : why should he venture a second time ? Tlie duchess had also given a strict charge to all the iluke's servants, to do all they could to hinder him to engage too far. ^\■lu•n matters were settled, they went to sleep ; and the duke ordered a call to be given him, when they should get up to the Dutch fleet. It is not known what jjassed between the duke and Brounker, who was of his bed-chamber, and was then in waiting ; but he came to Fen, as from the duke, and said the duke ordered the sail to be slackened. Pen was struck with the order, but did not go to argue the mutter with the duke himself, as he ought to have done, but obeyed it. When the duke had slept, he, upon his waking, went out on the quarter deck, and seemed amazed to see the sails slackened, and that thereby all hope of overtaking the Dutch was lost. He questioned Pen upon it. Pen put it on Ikounker, who said nothing. The duke denied he had given any such order. But he neither j)unishfd Brounker for carrying it, nor Pen for obeying it. He indeed put Brounker out of his service : and it was said, that he durst do no more, because he was so much in the king's favour, and in the mistress's." Pepys thus notices him in his Diary ; August 29th, 16G7. " I hear to- night that Mr. Brounker is turned away yesterday by the Duke of "Vork, for some bold words he was heard by Colonel Wcrden to say in the garden the day the chancellor was with the king — that he believed the king would be hectored out of evcrj- thing. For this, the Duke of York, who all say hath been very strong for his father-in-law at this trial, hath turned him away : and everybody, I think, is glad of it ; for he was a pestilent rogue, an atheist, that would have sold his king and country for sixpence almost, so corrupt and wicked a rogue he is by all men's report. But one observed to me, that there never was the occasion of men's holding their tongues at court, and everywhere else, as there is at this day, for nobody knows which side will be uppermost."] Note 145, Page 262. Mrs. Wetenhall. Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Henry Bedingfield, and wife of Thomas WetenhaU, of Hextall Court, near East Peckham, in the county of Kent. — See Collin's Baronetage, p. 21C. The family of Whetenhall, or Whet- nall, was possessed of the estate of Hextall Court from the time of Henry VIII. until within a few years j)ast, when one of them, Henry Wheten- hall, Esq. alienated it to John Fane, Earl of Westmoreland. Of this family was Edward Whetenhall, a celebrated polemical writer, who, in 1668, was consecrated bishop of Corke and Ross. — See Wood's Athena Oxoniensis, vol. ii. pp. 851, 998. Note 146, Page 264. Peckham. •' Peckham is about ten miles off Tunbridge Wells. Sir William Twisden has an ancient mansion here, which has been long in that family." — Burr's History of Tunbridge Wells, S\o. 1776, p. 237. Mr. 394 NOTES AND Hasted says, the estate was purchased by Sir William Twisden of Henry Whetenhall, Esq. — Hasted's Kent, vol. ii. p. 274. Note 147, Page 266. This is the Hamilton who served in the French army with distinction. I apprehend he is the same George Hamilton already described, who married Miss Jennings, and not the author of this work, as Lord Orford supposes. In a letter from Arlington to Sir William Godolphin, dated September 7, 1671, it is said, " the Conde de Molina complains to us of certain levies Sir George Hamilton hath made in Ireland. The king hath always told him he had no express license for it ; and I have told the Conde he must not find it strange that a gentleman who had been bred the king's page abroad, and losing his employment at home, for being a Roman Catholic, should have some more than ordinary connivance towards the making his fortune abroad by the countenance of his friends and relations in Ireland : and yet take the matter in the worst sense he could give, it would not amount to the breach of any article betwixt the king my master and the court of Spain." — Arlinr/ton' s Letters, vol. ii. p. 332. In a let- ter from the same nobleman to Lord Sandwich, written about October, 1667, we find the cause of Sir George Hamilton's entering into the French service : " Concerning the reformadoes of the guards of horse, his majesty thought fit the other day to have them dismissed, according to his promise, made to the parliament at the last session. Mr. Hamilton had a secret overture made him, that he, with those men, should be welcome into the French service ; his majesty, at their dismission, having declared they should have leave to go abroad whither they pleased. They accepted of Mr. Hamilton's oifer to carry them into France." — Arlington's Letters, vol. i. p. 185. Lodge, in his Peerage of Ireland, says Sir George Hamil- ton died in 1667, which, from the first extract above, appears to be erro- neous. He has evidently confounded the father and son ; the former of whom was the person who died in I GO 7. Note 148, Page 267. The court set out soon after. This was in 1664, probably as soon as the queen was sufficiently reco- vered from the illness mentioned in note on p. 365. See Burr's History of Ihinbridge Wells, p. 43. Note 149, Page 268. Lord MusJcerry . Eldest son to the Earl of Clancarty ; "a young man," says Lord Clarendon, "of extraordinary courage and expectation, who had been colonel of a regiment of foot in Flanders, under the duke, and had the general estimation of an excellent officer. He was of the duke's bed- chamber ; and the earl (2. e. of Falmouth) and he were at that time so near the duke, that his highness was all covered with their blood. There fell, likewise, in the same ship, and at the same instant, Mr. Richard Boyle, ILLUSTHATIONS. 395 a younger son of the Earl of Burlington, a youth of great hope." — Con- iinuation of Clarendon's Life, p. 266. Note 150, Page 268. Sinnmcr-hill. Lord Orford supposes this place came to Lord Muskerry through the means of his elder brother ; but in this he is mistaken, as it belonged to him in right of his wife, the only daughter of Lord Clanrickard. This seat is about five miles from the wells, and was once the residence and pro- perty of !Sir Francis Walsinghain, from whom it descended to liis daughter Frances, who married first Sir Fhilij) Sydney ; secondly, the unfortunate Robert Devereiix, Earl of Esse.x ; and lastly, Richard de Burgh, Marquis of Clanrickard. In Walker's Hislori/ of Independence, we are told, that " Somer-hill, a pleasant seat, worth one thousand pounds a year, be- longing to the Earl of St. Albau's (who was also Marquis of Clanrickard), is given by the junto to the blood-hound Bradshaw. So he hath warned the Countesse of Leicester, who formerly had it in possession, to raise a debt of three thousand pounds, pretended due to her from the said earlc (which she hath already raised four-fold), to quiet the possession against our Lord's day next." At the Restoration it seems to have returned to its original owner. It is now the residence of William Woodgate, Esq. A writer, supposed to be the Reverend Mr. Richard Oneley, thus describes it in 1771 : "Tlie house being too large for the family of the present pos- sessor, some of the state rooms are not made use of, or furnished ; but in them are still remaining superb chimney-pieces, fine carved wainscot, and other monuments of their former grandeur and magnificence. In the di- ning-room, above stairs, are figures, flowers, and other ornaments in stucco ; particularly, a representation in relievo, over the chimney-piece, of the angelic host (as it is thought) rejoicing in the creation of the world ; a de- sign seemingly taken from Job, chap, xxxvii. v. 7. The house is inclosed with four courts, E. W. N. S. The front court, through which is the grand approach to the house, looks towards the west ; from whence you have a fine prospect to the Surrey hills before you, and Seven-oak hills on the right. The prospect is limited by Baron Smjthe's park on the left. The town and castle of Tunbridge, the navigable river Medway, and the rich meadows through which it runs, finely diversified with corn-fields, pastur- age, hop-gardens, and orchards, are here in full view, and form a most beautiful scene. From the opposite court, on the west side of the house, are seen the Canterbury hills, near Dover, at the distance of about fifty miles ; but this view, and the several objects it comprises, is best enjoyed from a rising hill, on which grow two large oaks, at a little distance south- ward from the house. From this stand, a stranger may behold at leisure a valley equal to Tempe, Andalusia, or Tinian." — General Account of Tunbridge Wells and its Environs: j)rinted for G. Pearch, 8vo. p. 37. Mr. Hasted says, " that Lady Muskerry having, by her expensive way of life, wasted her estate, she, by piece-meals, sold off a great part of the demesne lands, lying mostly on the southern side of South-frith, to dif- ferent persons ; and dying in great distress, was buried accordingly, about the year 1698." — History of Kent, vol. ii. p. 311. 396 NOTES AND Note 151, Page 269. Prince Rupert. Lord Orford's contrast to this character of Prince Rupert is too just to be here omitted. " Born with the taste of an uncle whom his sword was not fortunate in defending, Prince Rupert was fond of those sciences which soften and adorn a hero's private hours, and knew how to mix them with his minutes of amusement, without dedicating his life to their pursuit, like us, who, wanting capacity for momentous views, make serious study of what is only the transitory occupation of a genius. Had the court of the first Charles been peaceful, how agreeably had the prince's congenial pro- pensity flattered and confirmed the inclination of his uncle ! How the muse of arts would have repaid the patronage of the monarch, when, for his first artist, she would have presented him with his nephew ! How different a figure did the same prince make in a reign of dissimilar complexion ! The philosophic warrior, who could relax himself into the ornament of a re- fined court, was thought a savage mechanic, when courtiers were only vo- luptuous wits. Let me transcribe a picture of Prince Rupert, drawn by a man who was far from having the least portion of wit in that age, who was superior to its indelicacy, and who yet was so overborne by its preju- dices, that he had the complaisance to ridicule virtue, merit, talents. — But Prince Rupert, alas! was an awkward lover!" Lord Orford here inserts the character in the text, and then adds, " What pity that we, who wish to transmit this prince's resemblance to posterity on a fairer canvas, have none of these inimitable colours to enface the harsher likeness ! We can but oppose facts to wit, truth to satire. — How unequal the pencils ! yet what these lines cannot do, they may suggest : they may induce the reader to reflect, that if the prince was defective in the transient varnish of a court, he at least was adorned by the arts with that polish which alone can make a court attract the attention of subsequent ages." — Cata- logue of Engravers, p. 135, 8vo. ed. [Lord Orford thus relates the circumstance of his inventing mezzo- tinto : " We must take up the prince in his laboratory, begrimed, uncombed, perhaps in a dirty shirt ; on the day I am going to mention, he certainly had not shaved and powdered to charm Miss Hughes, for it happened in his retirement at Brussels, after the catastrophe of his uncle. Going out early one 'morning, he observed the sentinel, at some distance from his post, very busy doing something to his piece. The prince asked what he was about .' He replied, the dew had fallen in the night, had made his fusil rusty, and that he was scraping and cleaning it. The prince looking at it, was struck with something like a figure eaten into the barrel, with innumerable little holes closed together, like friezed work on gold or silver, part of which the fellow had scraped away. " One knows what a mere good officer would have said on such an accident ; if a fashionable officer, he might have damned the poor fellow, and given him a shilling : but the Genie fecond en experiences from so trifling an accident conceived mezzotinto. The prince concluded that some contrivance might be found to cover a brass plate with such a grained ground of fine pressed holes, which would undoubtedly give an ILLUSTRATIONS. 397 impression all black, and that by scraping away proper parts, the smooth Ruperticiis would leave tiie rest of the jiaper white. Communicating his idea to VValltrant Vaillant, a painter wiiom he maintained, they made several e.\])i'riinents, and at last invented a steel roller, cut witii tools to make teeth like a tile or rasp, with j)rojecting points, which etiectually produced the black grounds ; those being scraped away and diminished at pleasure, left the gradations of light." Evelyn, in his Uiary, March 13, 1061, says : "This afternoon, Prince Rupert shewed me with his own hands the new way of graving called mezzotinto, which afterwards, by his i)ermission, 1 published in my history of C'halc<)graj)hy ; this set so many artists on work, that they soon arrived to the perfection it is since come, emulating the tenderest miniatures." Pepys, in his Diary, February 4, 1GG4-3, says : " My Lord Bellasses told us an odd passage ; how the king having put out Prince Rupert of his generalship, upon some miscarriage at Bristol, and Sir Richard Willis of his governorship of Newark, at the entreaty of the gentry of the county, and put in my Lord Bellasses ; the great officers of the king's army mutinied, and came in that manner with swords drawn, into the mar- ket-place of the town where the king was ; which the king hearing, says : ' I must horse.' And there himself personally, when everybody expected they should have been opposed, the king came, and cried to the head of tlie mutineers, which was Prince Rujicrt, ' Nephew, I command you to be gone.' So the prince, in all his fury and discontent, withdrew, and his company scattered." Dallaway says : " He was the author of several inventions of decided utility, in his own profession, of a method to bore cannons, and of a mixed metal, of which they should be composed, and of great improve- ment in the manufacture of gunpowder. He communicated to Christopher Kirby a method of tempering steel for the best fish-hooks ever made in England." Prince Rupert was also famous for his play at tennis, and for being an e.vcellent shot. A particular instance of his skill is mentioned by Plot, where he is said to have sent two balls successively, with a horse-pistol, through the weather-cock of St. Mary's steeple at Stafford. The dis- tance was sixty yards, and the feat was performed in the presence of Charles L] Note 152, Page 269. Hmjhes. Mrs. Hughes was one of the actresses belonging to the king's com- pany, and one of the earliest female performers. According to Downes, she commenced her theatrical career after the opening of Drury-lane theatre, in 1663. She appears to have been the first female representa- tive of Desdemona. By Prince Rupert she had a daughter, named Ruperta, married to Lieutenant-general Howe, who survived her hus- band many years, dying at Somerset House about the year 17-10. For Mrs. Hughes Prince Rupert bought the magnificent seat of Sir Nicholas Crispe, near Hammersmith, late the residence of the Margrave of £ran> 398 NOTES AND denburgh, and afterwards of Queen Caroline, wife of Geo. IV., which cost 25,000^. the building. From the dramatis personam to Tom Essence, licensed 1676, we find Mrs. Hughes was then on the stage, and in the duke's company. Note 152, Page 273. The Duke of York took a journey the other side of London. In Sir John Reresby's Memoirs, 8vo., 1735, p. 11, sub anno 1665, it is said, All"-. 5, " His Royal Highness the Duke and his duchess came down to Yo1-k, where it was observed that Mr. Sydney, the handsomest youth of his time, and of the duke's bed-chamber, was greatly in love with the duchess ; and well he might be excused ; for the duchess, daughter to Chancellor Hyde, was a very handsome personage, and a woman of fine wit. The duchess, on her part, seemed kind to him, but very innocently; but he had the misfortune to be banished the court afterwards, for another reason, as was reported." Burnet mentions this transaction, and insinuates, to this cause is to be ascribed the duchess's conversion to popery. — See Burnet's History of his Own Times, vol. i. p. 318. Note 153, Page 274. Churchill. Miss Arabella Churchill, daughter of Sir "Winston Churchill, of Wotton Basset, in the county of Wilts, and sister to the celebrated John, Duke of Marlborough. She was born 1648. By the Duke of York she was mother of— 1. James, Duke of Berwick ; 2. Henry Fitz- James, commonly called the Grand Prior, born 1673, who was, after the Revolution, created by his father Duke of Albemarle, and died 1702 ; 3. Henrietta, born 1670, married to Lord Waldegrave, and died 1730. Miss Churchill afterwards became the wife of Charles Godfrey, Esq., clerk-comptroller of the green cloth, and master of the jewel office, by whom she had two daughters ; one, Charlotte, married to Lord Falmouth ; and the other, Elizabeth, to Edmund Dunch, Esq. Mrs. Godfrey died in May, 1730, at the age of 82. . . c y. [The feelings and situation of this woman about the beginning of the kst century must have been strange and interesting. She had survived her lover, husband, and children. The sovereign who had loved her had been dethroned and exiled ; her husband was serving against him ; her brother (Duke of Marlborough) was opposed to the armies of Louis XIV. ; and her not less illustrious son (Marshal Due de Berwick) was defending the interests of that monarch in Spain.] Note 154, Page 280. Montagu's elder brother having, having very a propos, got himself killed where he had no business. Montagu's elder brother was killed before Bergen, about August, 1665. See Arlington's Letters, vol. ii., p. 87. His name was Edward. Boyer, who, in his life of Queen Anne, has made several mistakes about him, says ILLUSTRATIONS. 399 he was dismissed for offending her majesty, by squeezing her hand. Pro- bably he was disgraced for a time, and on that account went abroad. — See Continuation of Clarendon, ji. 21)2. He is mentioned in the State Poems as " Montague, by court disaster. Dwindled into the wooden horse's master." Advice to a Painter, Part I. Note 155, Page 292. Madame. Henrietta, youngest daughter of Charles the First, born at Exeter, IGth June, 1644, from whence she was removed to London in 1G46, and, with her governess, Lady Dalkeith, soon afterwards conveyed to France. On the Restoration, she came over to England with her mother, but returned to France in about six months, and was married to Philip, Duke of Orleans, only brother of Lewis XI\'. In May, 17C0, she came again to Dover, on a mission of a political nature, it is supposed, from the French king to her brother, in which she was successful. She died, soon after her return to France, suddenly, not without suspicion of having been poisoned by her husband. King James, in his Diary, says, " On the 22nd of June, the news of the Duchess of Orleans' death arrived. It was suspected that counter-poisons were given her ; but when she was opened, in the pre- sence of the English ambassador, the Earl of Ailesbury, an English physician, and surgeon, there appeared no grounds of suspicion of any foul play. Yet Bucks talked openly that she was poisoned ; and was so violent as to propose to foreign ministers to make war on France." — Macpherson's Original Papers, vol. i. At the end of Lord Arlington' s Letters are five very remarkable ones from a person of quality, who is said to have been actually on the spot, giving a particular relation of her death. [Pepys in his Diary, Nov. 22nd, 16G0, says, " The Princess Henrietta is very pretty, but much below my expectation ; and her dressing of herself with her hair frizzed short up to her ears, did make her seem so much the less to me. But my wife standing near her with two or three black patches on, did seem to me much handsomer than she.] Note 15G, Page 294. The Duke of Monmouth. James, Duke of Monmouth, was the son of Charles II., by one Lucy Walters. He was born at Rotterdam, April 9, 1G49, and bore the name of James Crofts until the Restoration. His education was chiefly at Paris, under the eye of the queen-mother, and the government of Tliomas Ross, Esq., who was afterwards secretary to Mr. Coventry during his embassy in Sweden. At the Restoration be was brought to England, and received with joy by his father, who heaped honours and riches upon him, wliich were not sufficient to satisfy his ambitious views. To exclude his uncle, the Duke of York, from the throne, he was continually intri- 400 NOTES AND guing with the opposers of government, and was frequently in disgrtice with his sovereign. On the accession of James II. he made an ineifectual attempt to raise a rebellion, was taken prisoner, and beheaded on Tower- hill, 15th July, 1685. Mr. Macpherson has drawn his character in the following terms : " Monmouth, highly beloved by the populace, was a fit instrument to carry forward his (i. e. Shaftesbury's) designs. To a grace- fulness which prejudiced mankind in his favour as soon as seen, he joined an affability which gained their love. Constant in his friendships, and just to his word, by nature tender, and an utter enemy to severity and cruelty, active and vigorous in his constitution, he excelled in the manly exercises of the field. He was personally brave. He loved the pomp and the very dangers of war. But with these splendid qualities, he was vain to a degree of folly, versatile in his measures, weak in his understand- ing. He was ambitious without dignity, busy without consequence, attempting ever to be artful, but always a fool. Thus, taking the applause of the multitude for a certain mark of merit, he was the dupe of his own vanity, and owed all his misfortunes to that weakness. — Macpherson' s Original Papers, vol. i., chap. iii. [Evelyn gives the following account of the Duke of Monmouth's rebel- lion and his execution, June 14th, 1685. " There was now certaine intel- ligence of the Duke of Monmouth landing at Lyme in Dorsetshire, and of his having setup his standard as King of England. I pray God deUver us from the confusion which these beginnings threaten ! ' ' June 17th. " The duke landed with but 150 men, but the whole king- dom was alarm'd, fearing that the disaffected would joyn them, many of the train'd bands flocking to him. At his landing he pubhsh'd a declara- tion, charging his ma''' with usurpation and several horrid crimes, on pre- tence of his owne title, and ofi'ering to call a free parliament. This decla- ration was order'd to be burnt by the hangman, the duke proclaim'd a traytor, and a reward of 5,000/. to any who should kill him." July 2nd. " No considei'able account of the troops sent against the duke, tho' greate forces sent. There was a smart skirmish, but he would not beprovok'd to come to an encounter, but still kept in the fastnesses." July 8th. " Came news of Monmouth's utter defeate, and the next day of his being taken by S'' W™ Portman and Lord Lumley with the mi- litia of their counties. It seemes the horse, commanded by Lord Grey, being newly rais'd and undisciplin'd, were not to be brought in so short a time to endure the fire, which expos'd the foote to the king's, so as when Monmouth had led the foote in greate silence and order, thinking to sur- prise Lieut' Gen' Lord Feversham newly encamp'd, and given him asmarl charge, interchanging both greate and small shot, the horse, breaking their owne ranks, Monmouth gave it over, and fled with Grey, leaving their party to be cut in pieces to the number of 2,000. The whole number re- ported to be above 8,000, the king's but 2,700. The slaine were most of them Mendip -miners, who did greate execution with their tooles, and sold their lives very dearely, whilst their leaders flying were pursu'd and taken the next morning, not far from one another. Monmouth had gone sixteen miles on foote, changing his habite for a poore coate, and was found by Lord Lumley in a dry ditch cover'd with fern-brakes, but without sword, ILLUSTRATIONS. 401 pistol, or any weapon, and so might have pass'd for some countryman, hia beard bein^ grown so long and so grey as hardly to be known, had not his George discover'd him, which was found in his pocket. 'Tis said he trembl'd exceedingly all over, not able to speake. Grey was taken not far from him. Most of his party were .Anabaptists and poore ciothworkers of y' country, no gentlemen of account being come in to him. The arch- boutefeu Ferguson, Matthews, ito. were not yet found. The 5,000/. to be given to whoever should bring Monmouth in, was to be distributed among the militia by agreement between S' W° Portman and Lord Lumley. The battail ended, some words, first in jest, then in passion, pass'd between Sherrington Talbot (a worthy gent", son to S'' John Talbot, and who had hehav'd himselfe very handsomely) and one Capt. Love, both commanders of the militia, as to whose souldiers fought best, both drawing their swords and passing at one another. Sherrington was wounded to death on the spot, to the greate regret of those who knew him. He was Sir John's only son." July 15th. '' Monmouth was this day brought to London and examin'd tjefore the king, to whom he made great submission, acknowledged his seduction by Ferguson the Scot, whom he nam'd y'= bloudy villain. He was sent to y' Tower, had an interview with his late dutchesse, whom he receiv'd coldly, having lived dishonestly with y' Lady Henrietta W'ent- worth for two yeares. He obstinately asserted his conversation with that debauch'd woman to be no sin, whereupon, seeing he could not be per- suaded to his last breath, the divines who were sent to assist him thought not tit to administer the Holy Communion to him. For y"^ rest of his faults he profess'd greate sorrow, and so died without any apparent feare ; be would not make use of a cap or other circumstance, but lying downe, bid the fellow do his office better than to the late Lord Russell, and gave him gold; but the wretch made five chopps before he had his head off; ■w''' so incens'd the people, that had he not been guarded and got away, they would have torn him to pieces. " The duke made no speech on the scaffold (w'^ was on Tower-hill), but gave a paper containing not above five or six lines, for the king, in which he disclaims all title to y' crown, acknowledges that the late king, his fa- ther, had indeede told him he was but his base sonn, and so desir'd his ma''' to be kind to his wife and children. This relation I had from Dr. Tenison (rector of St. Martin's), who, with the Bishops of Ely and Baih and Wells, were sent to him by his ma'^, and were at the execution. "Thus ended this quondam duke, darling of his father and y"^ ladies, being extreanily handsome and adroit ; an excellent souldier and dancer, a fa- vourite of the people, of an easy nature, debauched by lust, seduc'd by crafty knaves who would have set him up only to make a property, and took the opportunity of the king being of another religion, to gather a paity of discontented men. He fail'd, and perish'd. " He was a lovely person, had a virtuous and excellent lady that brought him gre;ite riches, and a second dukedom in Scotland. He was master of the horse, general of the king his father's army, gentleman of the bed- chamber, knight of the garter, chancellor of Cambridge, in a word, bad ac- cumulations without end. See what ambition and want of principles brought 2 D 402 NOTES AND him to ! He was beheaded on Tuesday, 14th July. His mother, whose name was Barlow, daughter of some very meane creatures, was a beautiful strumpet, whom I had often seene at Paris ; she died miserably without any thing to bury her ; yet tliis Perkin had ben made to believe that the king had married her ; a monstrous and ridiculous forgerie ; and to satisfy the world of the iniquity of the report, the king his father (if his father he really was, for he most resembl'd one Sidney, who was familiar with his mother) publickly and most solemnly renounc'd it, to be so enter'd in the council booke some yeares since, with all the privy counceUors attestation."] Note 157, Page 295. An heiress of Jive thousand pounds a year m Scotland. This was Lady Anne Scott, daughter and sole heir of Francis, Earl of Buccleugh, only son and heir of Walter, Lord Scott, created Earl of Buccleugh in 1619. On their marriage the duke took the surname of Scott, and he and his lady were created Duke and Duchess of Buccleugh, Earl and Countess of Dalkeith, Baron and Baroness of Whitchester and Ashdale, in Scotland, by letters patent, dated April 20th, 1673. Also, two days after he was installed at Windsor, the king and queen, the Duke of York, and most of the court being present. The next day, being St. George's day, his majesty solemnized it with a royal feast, and entertained the knights companions in St. George's hall in the castle of Windsor. Though there were several children of this marriage, it does not appear to have been a happy one ; the duke, without concealment, attaching him- self to Lady Harriet Wentworth, whom, with his dying breath, he declared he considered as his only wife in the sight of God. The duchess, in May, 1688, took to her second husband Charles, Lord Cornwallis. She died Feb. 6, 1731-2, in the 81st year of her age, and was buried at Dalkeith, in Scotland. Our author is not more correct about figures than he avows himself to be in the arrangement of facts and dates : the duchess's fortune was much greater than he has stated it to have been. Note 158, Pnge 296. Killegrew. Thomas Killegrew was one of the sons of Sir Robert Killegrew, cham- berlain to the queen, and was born at Hanworth, in the county of Mid- dlesex, in the month of February, 1611. He seems to have been early intended for the court, and to qualify him for rising there, every circum- stance of his education appears to have been adapted. He was appointed page of honour to King Charles I., and faithfully adhered to his cause until the death of his master ; after which he attended his son in his exile ; to whom he was highly acceptable, on account of his social and convivial qualifications. He married Mrs. Cecilia Crofts, one of the maids of honour to Queen Henrietta, In 1651 he was sent to Venice, as resident at that state, although, says Lord Clarendon, "the king was much dis- suaded from it, but afterwards his majesty was prevailed upon, only to gratify him, that in that capacity he might borrow money of English mer- ILLUSTRATIONS. 403 chants for his own subsistence ; wliich he did, and nothincf to the honour of his master ; but was at hist coni])elled to K'ave the repuhhc for his vicious behaviour ; of which the Venetian ambassador complained to the king, when he came afterwards to Paris." On his return from Venice, Sir John Denham wrote a copy of verses, printed in his works, bantering the foibles of his friend Kilk-prew ; who, from his account, was as little sensible to the miseries of exile as his royal master. His attacliment to the interests of Charles II. continued unabated, and at the Restoration he was appointed groom of the bed-chamber, and became so great a favourite with his majesty, that he was admitted into his company on terms of the most unrestrained familiarity, when audience was refused to the first ministers, and even on the most important occasions. It does not appear that he availed himself of his interest with the king, either to amass a for- tune, or to advance himself in the state : we do not find that he obtained any other preferment than the post of master of the revels, which he held with that of groom of the bed-chamber. Oldys says he was king's jester at the same time ; but although he might, and certainly did, entertain his majesty in that capacity, it can scarce be imagined to have been in conse- quence of any appointment of that kind. He died at Whitehall, I'Jth March, 1682, bewailed, as it is said, by his friends, and truly wept for by the poor. [Pepys thus relates " Thos. Killegrew's way of getting to see plays when he was a boy. He would go to ihe Red Bull, and when the man cried to the boys, ' Who will go and be a devil, and he shall see the play for nothing?' then would he go in, and be a devil upon the stage, and so ge*" to see plays." He also says in his Diary, Dec. 9th, 1660 : " Mr. Pierce did tell me as a great truth, as being told him by Mr. Cowly (Abraham Cowley, the poet), who was by and heard it, that Tom Killegrew publicly told the king that liis matters were coming into a very ill state ; but that yet there was a way to help all. Says he, ' There is a good, honest, able man that I could name, that if your majesty would employ, and command to see all things well executed, all things would soon be mended ; and this is one Charles Stuart, who now spends his time in em- ploying his hps about the court, and hath no other employment ; but if you would give him this employment, he were the fittest man in the world to perform it.' " -\gain, Feb. r2th, 1666-7 : "Thos. Killegrew tells me how the audience at his house is not above half so much as it used to be before the late fire. That Knipp is like to make the best actor that ever come upon the stage, she understanding so well : that they are going to give her 30/. a year more. That the stage is now by his pains a thousand times better and more glorious than ever heretofore. Now wax candles, and many of them ; then not above 31bs. of tallow : now all things civil, no rudeness anywhere ; then, as in a bear-garden ; then two or three fiddlers, now nine or ten of the best : then nothing but rushes upon the ground, and every thing else mean; now aU otherwise: then the queen seldom, and the king never, would come ; now, not the king only for state, but all civil people do think they may come as well as any. He tells me that he hath gone several times (eight or ten tirifes, he tells me) hence to Rome, to hear good music ; so much he loves it, though he never did sing or play a note. That be hath ever endeavoured in the late king's time, and 2 I) 2 404 NOTES AND in this, to introduce good music, but he never could do it, there never having been any music here better than ballads. And says ' Hermitt poore' and ' Chiny Chese' was all the music we had ; and yet no ordinary fiddlers get so much money as ours do here, which speaks our rudeness still. That he hath gathered our Italians from several courts in Christendom, to come to make a concert for the king, which he do give 200/. a year apiece to ; but badly paid, and do come in the room of keeping four ridiculous Gun- dilows, he having got the king to put them away, and lay out money this way. And indeed I do commend him for it ; for I think it is a very noble undertaking. He do intend to have sometimes of the year these operas to be performed at the two present theatres, since he is defeated in what he intended in Moorefields on purpose for it. And he tells me plainly that the city audience was as good as the court ; but now they are most gone." The following anecdotes are also preserved : — " On one occasion, Kille- grew entered the king's apartment without ceremony, equipped in boots, &c., as if he was going a journey. 'What, Killegrew,' cried Charles, ' where are you going in such a violent hurry .'' 'To hell ! ' said Killegrew, ' to fetch up Oliver Cromwell, to look after the affairs of England, for his successor never will.' " " The council had one day assembled, and the king, as usual, not making his appearance, the Duke of Lauderdale hastened to remonstrate with him, but his entreaties were of no avail. On quitting the presence-chamber he met Killegrew, who, on learning his errand, offered to bet him 100/. that Charles should attend the council in half an hour, which the duke, feeling certain of winning the money, instantly accepted. Killegrew immediately entered the king's apartment, and related to him the whole circumstance. ' 1 know,' he proceeded, ' that your majesty hates Lauderdale ; now, if you go only this once to the council, I know his covetous disposition so well, that, rather than pay the 100/., he will hang himself, and never plague you again.' Charles could not refrain from laughing : — ' Well, Killegrew,' he cried, ' \ positively will go 1' He kept his word, and the wager was won."] Note 159, Page 298. The Duke of Buckingham and Lady Shrewshnry remained for a long period both happy and. contented. In a letter from Andrew Marvell, dated August 9, ?671, he says, " Buckingham runs out all with the Lady Shrewsbury, whom he believes he had a son (by,) to whom the king stood godfather: it died young, Earl of Coventry, and was buried in the sepulchre of his fathers." — Mar- vell' s Works, vol. i. p. 406. The duel iu which the Earl of Shrewsbury was killed by the Duke of Buckingham happened 16th March, 1667. Note 160, Page 299, The Duchess of Buckingham. " Mary, Duchess of Buckingham, was the only daughter of Thomas, Lord Fairfax, and Acue, the daughter of Horace, Lord Vere ; a most vn-- ILLUSTRATIONS. 405 tuous and pious lady, in a vicious age and court. If she had any of the vanities, shf had certainly none of tiie vices of it. The duke and she lived lovingly and decently togetlier ; she ])atiently bearing with those faidts in him which she could not remedy. She survived him many years, and died near St. James's, at Westminster, and was buried in the vault of the family of Villiers, in Henry VIl.'s chajiel, anno 1705, a;tat. GO." — Brian Fair/aa's Life of I ho Dnkc of Buckinyham, 4to. 17")8, p. 39. She was married at Nun .\i)pleton, September G, 1G37. In the Memoirs of the English Court, by Madame Dunois, p. 11, it is said, "The Duchess of Buckingham has merit and virtue ; she is brown and lean, but had she been the most beautiful and charming of her sex, the being his wife would have been sufficient alone to have inspired him with a dislike. Notwith- standing she knew he was always intriguing, yet she never spoke of it, and had complaisance enough to entertain his mistresses, and even to lodge them in her house ; all which she suffered because she loved him." In some manuscript notes in Oldys's copy of Langbaine, by a gentleman stiU living, we are told that the old Lady Viscountess de Longueville, grandmother to the Earl of Sussex, who died in 17G3, aged near 100, used to tell many little anecdotes of Charles II. 's queen, whom she described as a little ungraceful woman, so short-legged, that when she stood upon her feet, you would liave thought she was on her knees, and yet so long waisted, that when she sat down she appeared a well-sized woman. She also described the Duchess of Buckingham, to whom she was related, as much such another in person as the queen ; a little round crumpled woman, very fond of finery. She remembered paying her a visit when she (the duchess) was in mourning, at which time she found her lying on a sofa, with a kind of loose robe over her, all edged or iaced with gokl. This circumstance gives credit to Fairfax's observation above, that if she had any of the vanities, she had certainly none of the vices of the court. Note 161, Page 300. // would he advisable for her to try the trarm baths at Bristol. I believe that Bath, not Bristol, is the jdace intended by the author. Queen Katharine's visit to the former place was earlier than to Tunbridge, being about the latter end of September, 16G3. — See Wood's Description of Bath, vol. i. p. 217. I do not find she ever was at Bristol, but at the time mentioned in the following extract : 1663, Sir John Knight, mayor. John Broadway, Richard Stremer, sheriffs. " The 5th of September, the king and queen, with James, Duke of York, and his duchess, and Prince Rupert, &c., came to Bristol, and ivere splendidly received and entertained by the mayor, at a dinner pro- vided on the occasion. They returned to Bath at four o'clock. 150 pieces of ordnance were discharged in the Marsh, at three distinct times." -—Barrett's History, i^-c. of Bristol, p. G92. 406 NOTES AND Note 1G2, Page 305. Campaign in Guinea, This expedition was intended to have taken place in 1664. A full account of it, and how it came to be laid aside, may be seen in the Con. tinuation of Clarendon's Life, p. 225. Note 163, Page 306. The old Earl of Carlingford. Sir Theobald Taafe, the second Viscount Taafe, created Earl of Carling- ford, in the county of Louth, by privy seal, 17th June, 1661, and by patent, 26th June, 1662. He died 31st December, 1677. Note 164, Page 308. That mad fellow Crofts, William, Baron of Crofts, groom of the stole, and gentleman of the bed-chamber to the Duke of York ; captain of a regiment of guards of the queen-mother, gentleman of the bed-chamber to the king, and ambassador to Poland. He had been sent to France by the Duke of York, to con- gratulate Lewis XIV. on the birth of the dauphin.— See Biog, Brit, old ed. vol. iv. p. 2738, and Continuation of Clarendon, p. 294. Note 165, Page 309. She saw young Churchill, Afterwards the celebrated Duke of Marlborough. He was bom mid- summer-day, 1650, and died June 16, 1722. Bishop Burnet takes notice of the discovery of this intrigue. "The Duchess of Cleveland, finding that she had lost the king, abandoned herself to great disorders : one of which, by the artifice of the Duke of Buckingham, was discovered by the king in person, the party concerned leaping out of the window." — History of his own Times, vol. i. p. 370. This was in 1668. A very particular account of this intrigue is to be seen in the Atalantis of Mrs. Manley, vol. i. p. 30. The same writer, who had lived as companion to the Duchess of Cleveland, says, in the account of her own life, that she was an eye-witness when the duke, who had received thousands from the duchess, refused the common civility of lending her twenty guineas at basset.— 7%e History of Rivella, 4th ed. 1725, p. 33. Lord Chester- field's character of this nobleman is too remarkable to be omitted, " Of all the men that ever I knew in my life (and I knew him extremely well), the late Duke of Marlborough possessed the graces in the highest degree, not to say engrossed them ; and indeed he got the most by them ; for I will venture (contrary to the custom of profound historians, who always assign deep causes to great events) to ascribe the better half of the Duke of Marlborough's greatness and riches to those graces. He was eminently iUiterate, wrote bad English, and spelled it still worse. He had no share of what is commonly c&WeA parts ; that is, he had no brightness, nothing shining in his genius. He had, most undoubtedly, an excellent ILLUSTRATIONS. 407 good plain understanding, with sound judgment. But these alone would probably have raised him but sometliiug higher than they found him, which was ])age to King James II. 's queen. There the graces protectt-d and ]iromoted iiim ; fur while he was an ensign of the guards, the Duchess of Cleveland, then favourite mistress to King Charles II., struck by those very graces, gave him five thousand pounds ; with which he immediately bought an annuity for his life, of five hundred pounds a year, of my grand- father, Halifax ; which was the foundation of his subsequent fortune. His figure was beautiful ; but his manner was irresistible by either man or woman. It was by this engaging, graceful manner, that he was enabled, during all his wars, to connect the various and jarring powers of the grand alliance, and to carry them on to the main object of the war, not- withstanding their private and separate views, jealousies, and wrong- headednesses. Whatever court he went to (and he was often obliged to go himself to some resty and refractory ones), he as constantly prevailed, and brought them into his measures. The pensionary Hemsius, a vene- rable old minister, grown grey in business, and who had governed the republic of the United Provinces for more than forty years, was absolutely governed by the Duke of Marlborough, as that republic feels to this day. He was edways cool ; and nobody ever observed the least variation in his countenance. He could refuse more gracefully than other people could grant ; and those who went away from him the most dissatisfied, as to the substance of their business, were yet personally charmed with him, and, in some degree, comforted by his manner. With all his gracefulness, no man living was more conscious of his situation or maintained his dignity better."— Chest. Letters, letter 136. Note 16G, Page 310. Nell Gwyn, the actress. On this passage, the first translator of this work, Mr. Boyer, has the following note : " The author of these memoirs is somewhat mistaken in this particular ; for Nell Gwyn was my Lord Dorset's mistress, before the king fell in love with her ; and I was told by the late Mr. Dryden, that the king having a mind to get her from his lordship, sent him upon a sleeveless errand to France. However, it is not improbable that Nell was afterwards kind to her first lover." [See Note 110.] Of the early part of Nell's life, little is known but what may be collected from the lampoons of the times ; in which it is said that she was born in a night-cellar, sofd fish about the streets, rambled from tavern to tavern, entertaining the company after dinner and supper with songs (her voice being very agreeable) ; was next taken into the house of Madame Ross, a noted courtesan ; and was afterwards admitted into the theatre, where she became the mistress of both Hart and Lacey, the celebrated actors. Other accounts say, she was born in a cellar in the Coal-yard in Drury-lane ; and that she was first taken notice of when selling oranges in the play-house. She belonged to the king's company at Drury-lane, and, according to Downes, was received as an actress a few years after that house was opened, in 1603. The first notice I find of her is in the year 408 NOTES AND 1668, when she performed in Dryden's play of Secret Love ; after which she may be traced every year until 1672, when I conjecture she quitted the stage. [Pepys mentions her as early as April 3rd, 1665, when he styles her "pretty, witty Nell." In his Diary, March 2nd, 1666-7, he says : " After dinner with my wife to the King's house to see ' The Maiden Queen,' a new play of Dryden's, mightily commended for the regularity of it, and the strain and wit : and the truth is, there is a comical part done by Nell, which is Florimell, that I never can hope to see the hke done again by man or woman. So great performance of a comical part was never, I believe, in the world before as Nell do this, both as a mad girl, then most and best of all when she comes in hke a young gallant ; and hath the motions and carriage of a spark the most that ever I saw any man have. It makes me, I confess, admire." And again. May 1st, 1667: " To Westminster, and saw pretty Nelly standing at her lodgings' door in Drury-lane, in her smock sleeves and bodice, looking upon one : she seemed a mighty pretty creature."] Her forte appears to have been comedy. [Pepys says in his Diary, August 22nd, 1667, " To the King's playhouse, where I find Nell come again, which I am glad of; but was most infinitely displeased with her being put to act the emperor's daugh- ter, which she does most basely."] In an epilogue to Tyrannic Love, spoken by her, she says, I walk, because I die Out of my caUing in a tragedy. And from the same authority it may be collected that her person was small, and she was negligent in her dress. Her son, the Duke of St. Albans, was born before she left the stage, viz. May 8, 1670. Bishop Burnet speaks of her in these terms: — " Gwyn, the indiscreetest and wildest creature that ever was in a court, continued, to the end of the king's Ufe, in great favour, and was maintained at a vast expense. The Duke of Buckingham told me, that when she was first brought to the king, she asked only 500 pounds a year, and the king refused it. But when he told me this, about four years after, he said she had got of the king above sixty thousand pounds. [The editor has seen her signature to a receipt dated Nov. 20th, 1682, for 250/., being a quarter of a year's pension. Also a banker's order for payment of a similar sum, dated Oct. 15th, 1683, signed by Lord Rochester, Sir Edv/. Dering, Sir Stephen Fox, &c.] She acted all persons in so lively a manner, and was such a constant diversion to the king, that even a new mistress could not drive her away ; but, after all, he never treated her with the decencies of a mistress." — History of his own Times, vol. i. p. 369. The same author notices the king's atten- tion to her on his death-bed. Gibber, who was dissatisfied with the bishop's account of Nell, says, — " If we consider her in all the disadvantages of her rank and education, she does not appear to have had any criminal errors, more remarkable than her sex's frailty, to answer for ; and if the same author, in his latter end of that prince's life, seems to reproach his memory with too kind a concern for her support, we may allow it becomes a bishop to have had no eyes or taste for the frivolous charms or playful badinage of a king's mistiness. Yet, if the common fame of her may be ILLUSTRATIONS. 409 believed, which, in my memory, was not doubted, she had less to be laid to her charj^e than any otht-r of those ladies who were in the same state of preferment : she never nieiklled in matters of serious moment, or was the tool of workinc; politicians ; never broke into those amorous infidelities which others, in that grave author, are accused of; but was as visibly dis- tinguished by her particular personal inclination to the king, as lier rivals were by their titU-s and grandeur." — Ciliber's Apology, 8vo., p. 450, One of Madame Scvigne's letters exhibits no bad portrait of Mrs. Gwyn. — " Mademoiselle de K (Kerouaille, afterwards Duciiess of Ports- mouth) has not been disappointed in any tiling she proposed. She desired to be mistress to the king, and she is so : he lodges with her almost every night, in the face of all the court : she has had a son, who has been ac- knowledged, and presented with two duchies; she amasses treasure, and makes herself feared and respected by as many as she can. But she did not foresee that she should find a young actress in her way, whom tho king dotes on ; and she has it not in her power to withdraw him from her. He divides his care, his time, and his health, between these two. The ac- tress is as haughty as Mademoiselle : she insults her, she makes grimaces at her, she attacks her, she frequently steals the king from her, and boasts whenever he gives her the preference. She is young, indiscreet, confident, wild, and of an agreeable humour : she sings, she dances, she acts her part with a good grace. She has a son by the king, and hopes to have him acknowledged. As to Mademoiselle, she reasons thus : This duchess, says she, pretends to be a person of ([uality : she says she is related to the best families in France : whenever any person of distinction dies, she puts her- self in mourning. — If she be a lady of such quality, why does she demean herself to be a courtesan ? She ought to die with shame. As for me, it is my profession : I do not pretend to any thing better. He has a son by me : 1 pretend that he ought to acknowledge him ; and I am well assured he will ; for he loves me as well as Mademoiselle. This creature gets the upper hand, and discountenances and embarrasses the duchess extremely." — Letter 92. Mr. Pennant says, " — she resided at her house, in what was then called Pail-Mall. It is the first good one on the left hand of St. James's square, as we enter from Pall-Mali. The back-room on the ground floor was (within memory) entirely of looking-glass, as was said to have been the ceiling. Over the chimney was her picture ; and that of her sister was in a third room." — London, p. 101. At this house she died, in the year 1C91, and was pompously interred in the parish church of St. Martin's in the Fields ; Dr. Tennison, then vicar, and afterwards archbishop of Canterbury, preaching her funeral sermon. This sermon, we learn, was shortly afterwards brought forward at court by Lord Jersey, to impede the doctor's ])referment ; but queen Mary having heard the ob- jection, answered — " What then .'" in a sort of discomposure to which she was but little subject ; " I have heard as much : this is a sign that that poor unfortunate woman died penitent ; for, if I can read a man's heart through his looks, had not she made a pious and Christian end, the doctor could never have been induced to speak well of her." — Li/e of Br. Tho- mas Tennison, p. 20. Cibber also says, he had been unquestionably in- 410 NOTES AND formed that our fair offender's repentance appeared in all the contrite symptoms of a Christian sincerity. — Gibber's Apology, p. 451. [The following anecdotes which are still preserved of the merry, open- hearted Nell, will be found highly illustrative of her lively wit and generous disposition. They are taken from various sources, including the Diaries of Evelyn and Pepys ; Granger's Biography and Letters ; CoUey Gibber's Life ; Gentleman's Magazine ; Mrs. Jameson ; Jesse ; &c. &c. " Mrs. Pierce tells me that the two Marshalls at the king's house, are Stephen Marshall's the great Presbyterian's daughters : and that Nelly and Beck Marshall falling out the other day, the latter called the other my Lord Buckhurst's mistress. Nell answered her, ' I was but one man's mistress, though I was brought up in a brothel, to fill strong water to the gentlemen : and you are a mistress to three or four, though a presbyter's praying daughter.' " " Boman, when a youth and famous for his voice, was appointed to sing some part in a concert, at the private lodgings of Mrs. Gwynn ; at which were only present the king, the Duke of York, and one or two more, who were usually admitted upon those detached parties of pleasure. When the performance was ended, the king expressed himself highly pleased, and gave it extraordinary commendations : ' Then, Sir,' said the lady, ' to shew you don't speak like a courtier, I hope you will make the performers a handsome present.' The king said he had no money about him, and asked the duke if he had any ? To which the duke replied, ' I believe. Sir, not above a guinea or two.' Upon which the laughing lady, turning to the people about her, and drolly mimicking the king's tone and common ex- pression, cried, ' Odd's fish, what company am I got into !' " " Nell Gwynn was one day passing through the streets of Oxford, in her coach, when the mob mistaking her for her rival, the Duchess of Portsmouth, commenced hooting and loading her with every opprobrious epithet. Putting her head out of the coach window, ' Good people,' she said, smiling, ' you are mistaken ; I am the Protestant whore.' " '' Once as she was driving up Ludgate-hill in a superb coach, some bailiffs were hurrying a clergyman to prison ; she stopped, sent for the per- sons whom the clergyman named as attestators to his character, and finding the account a just subject for pity, paid his debt instantly, and procured him a preferment." " An expedient adopted by the light-hearted actress, to procure the ad- vancement of her young son to the same rank which had been conferred by Charles on his other natural children, is amusing enough. The king hap- pened to be in her apartments, when the boy was engaged in some chddish sport. * Come here, you little bastard !' — was the free-spoken summons. Charles, to whose ears the term sounded somewhat harsh, blamed her, in his good-natured way, for the expression. ' Indeed,' she said, demurely, ' I am very sorry, but I have no other name to give him, poor boy !' A few days afterwards, this nameless young gentleman was created Baron of Heddington and Earl of Burford." " Nelly was highly favoured by Dryden. For many years he gave her ILLCSTHATIONS. 411 the most snowy and fantastic parts in his comedies. It looks as if he played her at the monarch a considerable time ; and he wrote on pur- pose for her a whimsical and spirited proioijue, j)refixed, I think, to Aurengzehe. At tlie rival theatre (viz. the Duke's, under Killegrew's patent), Xokes had ajipearcd in a hat lari^er than Pistol'is, wiiich gave the town wonderful delight, and sujiported a bad jilay by its pure effect. Dryden, piqued at this, caused a hat to be made the circum- ference of a hinder coach-wheel, and as Nelly was low of stature, and what the French call iriigiionne et piqvante, he made her speak under the umbrella of tliat liat, the brims thereof being spread out horizontally to their full extension. The whole theatre was in a convulson of applause ; nay, the very actors giggled, a circumstance none had observed before. Judge, therefore, what a condition ' the merriest ))rince alive ' was in at such a conjuncture. It was beyond ' odds ' and ' odstish ;' for he wanted little of being suffocated with laughter." " She was the most popular of all the king's mistresses, and most acceptable to the nation. The king having made a handsome present of plate to the Duchess of Portsmoutii, a large concourse of people gathered round the goldsmith's shop, and loudly hooted at the duchess, wishing the silver was melted and poured down her throat, and saying that it was a thousand i)ities his majesty had not bestowed this bounty on Madam EUen." " Before Nelly became the mistress of Charles II., she was under the protection of two others of the name of Charles. She accordingly used to speak of him as her Charles III. Etherege says, • When he was dumpish, she would still be jocund, And chuck the royal chin of Charles the Second.' " " The house in which Nell Gwynn lived was a freehold, and granted to her by a long lease by Charles II. Upon her discovering it to be only a lease under the crown, she returned him the lease and conveyance, saying she had always conveyed free under the crown, and always would ; and would not accept it till it was conveyed free to her by an act of parlia- ment, made on and for that purpose. Upon Nelly's death it was sold, and has been conveyed free ever since." " Before her acquaintance with the king she is by some said to have been mistress to a brother of Lady Castlemaine, who studiously concealed her from Charles. One day, however, in spite of his caution, his majesty saw her, and that very night possessed her. Her lover carried her to the play, at a time when he had not the least suspicion of his majesty's being there ; but as that monarch had an aversion to his robes of royalty, and was incumbered with the dignity of his state, he chose frequently to throw off the load of kingship, and consider himself as a private gentle- man. Upon this occasion he came to the play incog., and sat in the next box to Nelly and her lover. As soon as the play was finished, his majesty, with the duke of York, the young nobleman, and Nell, retired to a t;ivern together, where they regaled themselves over a bottle ; and the king shewed such civilities to Nell, that she began to understand the meaning of his gallantry. The tavern keeper was entirely ignorant of the 412 NOTES AND quality' of the company ; and it was remarkable, that when the reckoning came to be paid, his majesty, upon searching his pockets, found that he had not money enough about him to discharge it, and asked the sum of his brother, who was in the same situation : upon which Nell observed, that she had got into the poorest company that she ever was in at a tavern. The reckoning was paid by the young nobleman, who that night lost both his money and mistress." " 'Oh Nell,' said Charles to her one day, 'what shall I do to please the people of England ? lam torn to pieces by their clamours.' 'If it please your majesty,' she answered, ' there is but one way left.' ' "What is that?' said the king. 'Dismiss your ladies, may it please your majesty, and mind your business.' " " One day she was driving in her coach to Whitehall, when a dispute arose between her coachman and another who was driving a countess, who in the midst of the discussion told his rival, that he himself drove a countess, whilst his lady was neither more nor less than a whore. The indignant Jehu jumped from his seat, and administered to the offender a severe beating. When Nell learnt from him the cause of the quarrel, she told him to ' go to, and never to risk his carcase again but in defence of truth.' " Evelyn, who, like Dr. Burnet, was highly scandahzed at the king's fondness for his mistresses, thus notices her in his Diary, March 1st, 1671 : — " I walked through St. James's Park to the gardens, where I both saw and heard a very familiar discourse between [the king] and Mrs. Nellie, as they called an impudent comedian, she looking out of her garden on a terrace at the top of the wall, and [the king] standing on the green walk under it. I was heartily sorry at this scene." Charles loved her to the last, and she is said to be the only one of his mistresses who was faithful to him. His last words were, " Let not poor Nelly starve." According to a writer in the Gent.'s Magazine, " she left a handsome sum yearly to St. Martin's church, on condition, that on every Thursday evening in the year, there should be six men employed, for the space of one hour, in ringing, for which they were to have a roasted shoulder of mutton and ten shillings for beer. She, however, is more justly remembered for her exertions in behalf of Chelsea Hospital, which would never have been completed, at least not in the reign of Charles, but for her persevering and benevolent enthusiasm."] Note 167, Page 311. Miss Davis. Mrs. Mary Davis was an actress belonging to the duke's theatre. She was, according to Downes, one of the four female performers who boarded m Sir William Davenant's own hous.., and was on the stage as early as 1664, her name being to be seen in "The Stepmother,'' acted in that year. She performed the character of Celia, in the " Rivals," altered by Davenant from the " Two Noble Kinsmen" of Fletcher and Shak- spsare, in 1668 ; and, in singing several wild and mad songs, so charmed his majesty, that she was from that time received into his favour, and had ILLUSTRATIONS. 413 by him a daughter, Mary Tudor, born October, 1G73; married in Au- Riist, 1087, to Francis Ratelitte, Earl of Derweiitwater. JJurnet says, Miss Davis did not keep her hold on the king long ; wliich may be doubted, as her daughter was bora four years after she was first noticed by his majesty. [Pepys thus speaks of her in his Diary, March 7th, lGGC-7. — " To the duke's playhouse, where little Miss Davis did dance a jig after the end of tlie play, in boy's clothes ; and the trutli is, there is no compa- rison between Nell's dancing the other day at the king's house in boy's clothes and this, this being infinitely beyond tlie other." Jan. 11th, 1607-8. " Knipp told me how Miss Davis is for certain going away from the duke's house, the king being in love with her ; and a house is taking for her and furnishing ; and she hath a ring given her already, worth 600/." Jan. 1 Uh. " Miss Davis is now the most impertinent slut in the world ; and the more now the king do shew her countenance ; and is reckoned his mistress even to the scorn of the whole world ; the king gazing on her, and my Lady Castlemaine being melancholy and out of humour, all the play not smiling once. It seems she is a bastard of Colonel Howard, my Lord Berkshire, and he hath got her for tlie king : but Pierce says that she is a most homely jade as ever he saw, though she dances beyond any thing in tlie work!." A story is told that Lady Castle- maine (Granger says it was Nell Gwynn) administered jalap at supjicr to Mary Davis on the first night of her introduction to Charles, the object of which need not be commented upon. It is sufficient (says Granger) to hint at the violence of the operation, and its disastrous effects."] Note 168, Page 312. Chiffinch. The name of this person occurs very often in the secret history of this reign. Wood, in enumerating the king's supjicr companions, says, they meet " either in the lodgings of Lodovisa, Duchess of Portsmouth, or in those of Chcffing (Chiffinch), near the back-stairs, or in the apart- ment of Eleanor Quin (Gwyn), or in that of Baptist May ; but he losing his credit, Cheffing had the greatest trust among them." — AOienee Oxon. vol. ii. 1038. So great was the confidence reposed in him, ihat he was the receiver of the secret pensions paid by the court of France to the King of England. — See the Buke of Leeds's Letters, 1710, p. 9, 17,33. Chiffinch's more important duties are intimated in the becinning of a satirical poem of the time entitled " Sir Edaiondbury Godfrey's Ghost." " It happen'd, in the twilight of the day, As England's monarch in his closet lay. And Chiffinch stepp'd to fetch the female prey, The bloody shajie of Godfrey did appear," &c. [His character is well dra^rn in Sir Walter Scott's novel of" Pevcril of the Teak.'"] 414 NOTES AND Note 169, Page 314. Miss Stewart having a little recovered, Src. See Bishop Burnet's account of Miss Stewart's marriage, in his History of his own Times, vol. i. p. 353. [Pepys thus relates the marriage in his Diary, April 26th, 1667 :— "Mr. Evelyn told me the whole story of Mrs. Stewart's going away from court, he knowing her well ; and believes her, up to her leaving the court, to be as virtuous as any woman in the world ; and told me, from a lord, that she told it to but yesterday with her own mouth, and a sober man, that when the Duke of Richmond did make love to her, she did ask the king, and he did the like also ; and that the king did not deny it, and told this lord that she was come to that pass, as to resolve to have married any gentleman of 1,500/. a year that would have had her in honour : for it was come to that pass, that she could not longer continue at court without prostituting herself to the king, whom she had so long kept off, though he had liberty more than any other had, or he ought to have, as to dalliance. She told this lord, that she had reflected upon the occasion she had given to the world, to think her a bad woman, and that she had no way but to marry and leave the court, rather in this way of discontent than otherwise, that the world might see that she sought not any thing but her honour ; and that she will never come to live at court, more than when she comes to kiss the queen her mistress's hand ; and hopes, though she hath little reason to hope, she can please her lord so as to reclaim him, that they may yet hve comfortably in the country on his estate. She told this lord that all the jewels she ever had given her at court, or any other presents (more than the king's allowance of 700/. per annum out of the privy-purse for her clothes), were at her first coming, the king did give her a necklace of pearl, of about 1,100/. ; and afterwards, about seven months since, when the king had hopes to have obtained some courtesy of her, the king did give her some jewels, I have forgot what, and I think a pair of pen- dants. The Duke of York, being once her Valentine, did give her a jewel of about 800/. ; and my Lord Mandeville, her Valentine this year, a ring of about 300/. ; and the King of France would have had her mother (who, he says, is one of the most cunning women in the world), to have let her stay in France, saying that he loved her not as a mistress, but as one that he could marry as well as any lady in France ; and that, if she might stay, for the honour of his court, he would take care that she should not repent. But her mother, by command of the queen-mother, thought rather to bring her into England ; and the King of France did give her a jewel ; so that Evelyn believes she may be worth in jewels about 6,000/., and that this is all she hath in the world ; and a worthy woman ; and in this hath done as great an act of honour as ever was done by woman. That now the Countess Castlemaine do carry all before her ; and among other arguments to prove Mrs. Stewart to have been honest to the last, he says that the king's keeping in still with my Lady Castlemaine do shew it ; for he never was known to keep two mistresses in his life, and would never have iLept to her, had he prevailed any thing with Mrs. Stewart. She is gone yesterday with her lord to Cobham."] ILLUSTRATIONS. 415 Note 170, Page 317. ITie expedition of Gigeri. Gigeri is about forty leagues from Algiers. Till the year ICU the French had a factory there ; but then attempting to build a fort on the seacoast, to be a check upon the Arabs, they came down from the moun- tains, beat the French out of Gigeri, and demolished their fort. Sir Richard Fanshaw, in a letter to the deputy-governor of Tangier, dated 2nd of December, 1GG4, N.S. says, "We have certain inteUigence that the French have lost Gigheria, with all they had there, and their fleet come back, with the loss of one considerable ship upon the rocks near Marselles." — Famhaw's Letters, vol. i. p. 347. Note 171, Page 319. An expedition to Guinea. This expedition was intended to have taken place in 1664. A full account of it, and how it came to be laid aside, may be seen in the Con- tinuation of Clarendon's Life, p. 225. Note 172, Page 319. Ovid's Epistles. This is the translation of Ovid's epistles, published by Mr. Dryden. The second edition of it was printed in 1681. Note 173, Page 320. A silly country girl. Miss Gibbs, daughter of a gentleman in the county of Cambridge. Note 174, Page 320. A melancholy heiress. Elizabeth, daughter of John Mallet, of Enmere, in the county of Somerset. Note 175, Page 320. The languishing Boynton. After the deaths of Miss Boynton and of George Hamilton, Talbot married Miss Jennings, and became afterwards Duke of Tyrconnel. Note 176, Page 320. Was blessed with the possession of Miss Hamilton. "The famous Count Grammont was thought to be the original of TTie Forced Marriage. This nobleman, during his stay at the court of Eng- land, had made love to Miss Hamilton, but was coming away for France, without bringing matters to a proper conclusion. The young lady's 416 NOTES AND brothers pursued him, and came up with him near Dover, in order to exchange some pistol-shot with him. They called out, ' Count Gram- mont, have you forgot nothing at London ? ' ' Excuse me,' answered the count, guessing their errand, ' I forgot to marry your sister ; so lead on, and let us finish that affair.' By the pleasantry of the answer, this was the same Grammont who commanded at the siege of a place, the governor of which capitulated after a sliort defence, and obtained an easy capitula- tion. The governor then said to Monsieur Grammont, ' I'll tell you a secret — that the reason of my capitulation was, because 1 was in want of powder.' Monsieur replied, ' And secret for secret — the reason of my granting you such an easy capitulation was, because I was in want of ball.' "—Bioff. Gallica,vo\. i. p. 202. Count Grammont and his lady left England in 1669. King Charles, in a letter to his sister, the Duchess of Orleans, dated 24th October, in that year, says, " I writt to you yesterday, by the Compte de Grammont, but I beleeve this letter will come sooner to your handes ; for he goes by the way of Diep, with his wife and family ; and now that 1 have named her, I cannot chuse but againe desire you to be kinde to her ; for, besides the meritt her family has on both sides, she is as good a creature as ever lived. I beleeve she will passe for a handsome woman in France, though she has not yett, since her lying-inn, recovered that good shape she had before, and I am afraide never will." — Dalri/mple's Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 26. "The Count de Grammont fell dangerously ill in the year 1696 ; of which the king (Lewis XIV.) being informed, and knowing, besides, that he was inclined to libertinism, he was pleased to send the Marquis of Dangeau to see how he did, and to advise him to think of God. Hei-eupon Count de Grammont, turning towards his wife, who had ever been a very devout lady, told her, ' Countess, if you don't look to it, Dangeau will juggle you out of my conversion.* Madame de I'Enclos having afterwards written to M. de St. Evremond that Count de Grammont was recovered, and turned devout, — ' I have learned,' answered he to her, ' with a great deal of pleasure, that Count de Grammont has recovered his former health, and acquired a new devotion. Hitherto 1 have been contented with being a plain honest man ; but I must do something more ; and I only wait for your example to become a devotee. You live in a country where people have wonderful advantages of saving their souls ; there, vice is almost as opposite to the mode as to virtue ; sinning passes for ill breeding, and shocks decency and good manners, as much as religion. Formerly it was enough to be wicked ; now one must be a scoundrel withal, to be damned in France. They who have not regard enough for another life, are led to salvation by the consideration and duties of this.' — ' But there is enough upon a subject in which the conversion of the Count de Grammont has engaged me. I believe it to be sincere and honest. It well becomes a man who is not young, to forget he has been so.' " — Life of Sf. Evremond, by Des Marzeaux, p. 136 ; and St. Evremond's Works, vol. ii. p. 431. It appears that a report had been spread, that our hero was dead. St. Evremond, in a letter to de I'Enclos, says, " They talk here as if the Count de Grammont was dead, which touches me with a very densible grief." — St. Evremond's_ WQrAs, vol. iii. p. 39. And the same lady, in ILLUSTBATIONS. 417 her answer, says, " Madame de Coulange has undertaken to make your comi)liments to the Count de Grammont, by the Countess de Grammont. He is so youn!^, that I think him as light as when he hated sick people, and loved them after they had recovered their health."— 5/. Evremoud'a Works, p. 59. At length Count de Grammont, after a long life, died, the 10th January, 1707, at the age of eighty-s>ix years. See a letter from St. Evremond to Count de Grammont on the death of his brother, Count de Toulongeon. — St. Evremond's Works, vol. ii. p. 327. PERSONAL HISTORY OF CHARLES II. Compiled from various authentic sources. Prince Chahles, the second son of Charles I. and Ilcnrietta ]\laria of France, was born at St. James's, May 29th, 1G30, at one o'clock in the afternoon. Accordin<,' to Rushworth, and other writers of the period, a star appeared at the time of his birth ; upon which Fuller remarks : "■ To behold this babe. Heaven itself soenied to open one eye more than ordinary." Perrinchief, in a similar strain, says, that " Heaven seemed concerned in the exultation of the people, kindling another fire more than ordinary, making a star to be seen the same day at noon, from which most men presaged that the prince should be of hi;Lrh undertakings, and of no common glory among kings, which hath since been confirmed by his miraculous preservation ; and heaven seemed to conduct him to the throne." Lilly (the astrologer), how- ever, dispels the miracle by stating that the light or star was no other than the planet Venus, which not unfrequently pre- sents itself in the open day; though in Charles's case such an appearance was certainly a singular coincidence, and at least typical of the subsequent libertinism of his career. His ehler brother, born the year i)revi()usly, having died on the day of his birth, Charles was declared Prince of Wales ; and on the completion of his eighth year, he was knighted, received the order of the garter, and wa^i installed with the usual ceremonies at AVindsor. Of his childhood we learn but little. In a " Secret History," published after his death, we are told that "when very young, he had a strange and unncoi)untal)lc fondness for a wooden billet, without which in his arms he would never go 2 £ 2 420 PERSONAL HISTORY OP abroad, or lie down in liis bed ; from which the more observ- ing sort of peojile gathered, that when he came to years of maturity, either oppressors or blockheads would be his greatest favourites; or else, that when he came to reign he would either be like Jupiter's log, for everybody to deride and contemn; or that he would rather choose to command his people with a club, than rule them with a sword." An amusing correspondence is also preserved by Ellis, from which we learn that the young prince had exhibited a most rebellious aversion to physic, resolutely declining t© take it at all ; the Earl of Newcastle (who had been appointed his governor or guardian in 1638) was obliged to apply to his mother, Henrietta Maria, and the letter is yet extant in which she endeavoured to persuade her refractory son. It appears that he was afterwards won over ; and his early love for the ridiculous is exemplified in the following childish note, which he wrote to his governor in his own hand, apparently in 1638, when he was only eight years of age:— " My Lord, " I would not have you take too much physic, for it doth always make me worse, and I think it will do the like with you. I ride every day, and am ready to follow any other directions from you. Make haste to return to him that loves you. , " To my Lord of Newcastle. " Charles, P. ' During his early years he had for his tutor Brian Duppa, an ecclesiastic who was of an easy temper, and much beloved by Charles I., but, according to Burnet, in no way fit for his post. The celebrated Hampden was once proposed, but, perhaps unfortunately for the young prince, was not en- gaged. His governors, successively the Earls of Newcastle, Hertford, and Berkshire, who had the care of his education, appear to have afforded him but few helps towards his im- provement ; and with the exception of Mr. Hobbes, who was appointed to instruct him in mathematics, his education was directed by persons no way competent for the task. Charles, at a very early age, was a witness of the miseries of his father, and partook with him in the troubles of tha CHARLES II. 421 pcrioJ. In 1G42, when lie was only twelvfe years old. the king made him cai)tain of a troop of horse, and ho wae HliortJv afterwards ])rcsent at the battle of Edge-hill. Diirinl, where he remained for nearly three years, iu a very poor condition. He had a small and insufficient pen- sion from the French court ; and Clarendon says, he had not credit enough to borrow twenty pistoles. France and Spain now paid the most servile court to Crom- well, in order to gain his friendship. The former obtained it on condition of sending Charles and his brother, the Duke of York, out of that kingdom ; and accordingly, in the middle of June, 1654, the king was obliged to leave Paris, and passing through Flanders, settled in Cologne. While here, understanding that Cromwell had broken with Spain, he sent a memorial to the king of that country, to endeavour to persuade him to enter into an alliance ; and though it quite failed of that object, yet it produced a pension of 0,000/. per annum, for him and the Duke of York, which was very ac- ceptable, as the one which he had hitherto received from France ceased upon his removal. It, however, was irregularly paid, and very inadequate to his necessities, and of those about him. At Cologne he resided for about two years, and then re- moved to Bruges, where, according to Thurloe, his court waa 428 PERSONAL HISTORY OF a constant scene of profligacy and misrule, and in such disrepute, that on the occasion of one of the richest churches in Bruges having been plundered in the night, his fol- lowers were suspected as a matter of course. It appears that his little court was greatly straitened at this period, even to the want sometimes of the common necessaries of life.* It was here that Cromwell plotted, with his secretary Thurloe to get the king into his power. Accord- ing to Burnet, Sir Richard Willis, in whom the roy- alist party confided, was bribed to give notice of all tjieir designs; and the Protector projected with Thurloe, that Willis should persuade the king to land near Chichester, in Sussex, where an insurrection was to have been raised. More- land, however, the under-secretary of Thurloe, happened to be in the room, and. pretending to be asleep, heard all that passed, and contrived to forewarn the king. In Thurloes State Papers, there is a letter of intelligence, dated August 14, 1656, alluding to this circumstance. Welwood also says, that Cromwell perceiving Moreland, and fearing that he must have overheard their discourse, drew his poiguard and was going to despatch him on the spot, but Thurloe prevailed on him to desist, assuring him that Moreland had sat up two nights together, and was now certainly asleep. During the whole period of Charles's exile, attempts and negotiations continued to be made by his partisans for his restoration ; but they were invariably detected, and frustrated by the vigilance of his enemies, or the treachery of his friends. Promises were made to the king by Spain of powerful assist- ance ; but the Spaniards had so poor an opinion of his interest in England, that they could never be induced in reality to hazard any thing in his favour beyond the pension. In Febru- ary, 1658, he removed to Brussels, but did not improve his condition, or that of his personal adherents, who, though often utterly at a loss for subsistence, seemed never to want a sub- * The following copy of a note of hand of his majesty to John Fotherly, Esq., will give the reader some idea of the straits he was reduced to in Flanders ; — " I doe acknowledge to have receaved the summe of one hundred pounds sterlinjr, which I doe promis to repay as soon as I am able. Bruges. " 21 Decern. 1657. " Charles R." ciiAHLr:.s II. 429 ject for disagreement. Carte relates tlie following incident which occiuroil there : " One of the king's followers, a Scotch knight of the name of iMuywcll, lodged in tlie house of a citizen of the town, who, being zealously afl'ected to Charles's cause, gave him his lodging and diet f/ralis. This seasonable hospitality and kindness in his distress could not on all occasions keep down the Scotchman's passions : he quarrelled with his honest landlord, and swore he would never eat Avitli him more, lie kept his word for a whole day, fast- ing all that time; but it not agreeing over well with his cou- stifution, he consulted with his friend the Marquis of Ormonde, what he should do. ' Really,' said the Marquis, with great gravity, 'all the advice J. can give in your case is, to go to your lodging; first eat your words, and then your supper.'" Hyde also, in a letter to Ormonde, dated Brussels, says, " V^^c are all without a dollar, and have been long; and they who have neither money nor credit are like to keep a cold Christ- mas." And again he says, " jNIy wife is ready to lie in, and all things wanting." Throuirhout., however, the whole of this period, Charles's love of j)leasure and admiration of women were predominant. Lady Byron is sj)okcn of by Pepys as his '•seventeenth mis- tress abroad," and his connection with the beautiful Lucy Walters, witli Mrs. Elizabeth Killigrew, jMrs. Catherine Peg, &c. &c., had a most injurious eflect upon his character and cause. In Thurloo's State Papers we find numerous allu- sions to his various mistresses, and in a letter to his aunt, the Queen of Bohemia, written at Cologne, he com])lain3 of " the want of good fiddlers, and of some capable of teaching new dances." It is not, therefore, to be wondered at, that a government sujiported by a veteran army, and flushed with uninterrupted success, should have so little dread of men continually at variance with each other, headed by a prince, poor and exiled, who spent his time in idle- ness or low amours. But, notwithstanding these tastes, he seems on several occasions to have been desirous of form- ing a matTimfinial settlement, though he was as often disap- pointed. From On'cn/s State Papers, and other sources, we learn that the first lady to whom he offered himself was no other than Frances Cromwell, the youngest daughter of the 430 PERSONAL HISTORY OP Protector ; and the consent of the lady and her mother was actually gained. The offer was communicated to Cromwell by Lord Broghill, but he is said to have abruptly answered, " No ! the king would never forgive me the death of his father ; besides, he is so damnably debauched, he cannot be trusted." He afterwards proposed to marry Ilortensia, niece to Cardinal Mazarine, and the most beautiful young woman in the world, but met with a similar refusal. After the Restoration, however. Mazarine tried to bring it about, offer- ing a vast portion, but it was the king's turn to refuse, and the lady was rejected. Charles again made proposals to the daugh- ter of the Duke of Orleans, who was in possession of the rich duchy of Montpensier, which was also broken off, though car- ried to greater length than the two others. At another time he made a personal application to the Princess Dowager of Orange, for the hand of her daughter Henrietta, but the old lady declined the offer. Afterwards, when the deputation from Parliament waited on Charles, bringing him 50,000/., and inviting him to the throne, she seems to have bitterly regretted her blunder, and endeavoured to repair it ; the king, however, treated her overtures with the contempt they merited. He also engaged in other matrimonial speculations, amongst others to a daughter of the Duke of Lorraine, but in all he apj)ears to have been equally unfortunate. This was certainly a remarkable feature in Charles's history, for, if he signally failed in his honourable proposals, he at least succeeded as entirely in his libertine attachments. In August, 1658, the king removed from Brussels to a vil- lage called Hochstraten, where he first received the news of Cromwell's death, which took place in September, 1658; he is said to have been playing at tennis, when Sir Stephen Fox fell on his knees before him, and communicated to him the important tidings. He immediately returned to Brussels, that he might be ready to make use of any advantage. Here it was that, according to Lockhart, as related by Jesse, the fol- lowing adventure befell Charles. " It seems that the king, desirous of paying a secret visit to his sister, the Princess of Orange, who was then residing at the Hague, instructed a faithful adherent of his, named Fleming, to have a couple of horses ready at a particular hour in the night. Accordingly, ClIAItLES II. 431 having enjoined bis little court to plead indisposition as the cause of his seclusion, he stole away, and makin;^' great ex- pedition, he arrived at the Hague; where, having adopted an excellent disguise, he alighted at a small inn, whence he despatched Fleming to his sister to contrive an interview. Scarcely had Fleming returned, when an 'old reverend- like man, with a long grey beard, and ordinary grey clothes,' entered the inn, and begged for a private inter- view with Charles. After a little demurring, Fleming quitted the apartment, and the stranger cautiously bolted the door. He then fell on his knees, and pulling off his disguise, discovered himself to be the celebrated Sir George Downinjr, then ambassador from Cromwell to the States- General. An explanation followed, in which Downing im- plored the forgiveness of the king for the part which he had taken, assuring him that he was loyal at heart, and acquainted him with the circumstance that the Dutch had guaranteed to the English Commonwealth to deliver Charles's person into their hands, should he ever set foot in their terri- tories. Downing concluded by advising the king to leave the States immediately, as so extraordinary were the Protector's means of intelligence, that he expected to find official in- formation of the present visit upon his return home, a neglect of which would be attended with the loss of his head. This timely warning probably saved Charles's liberty ; he imme- diately acted upon it, and did not forget the obligation. The hopes of the royalists, which were rising on the death of Cromwell, were once more doomed to be disap- pointed. Kichard Cromwell, the eldest son of Oliver, had been proclaimed by Monk, and acknowledged Protector; whilst congratulatory addresses poured in upon him from all parts of the kingdom, and foreign ministers were forward in paying him the usual compliments. His reign, however, was but short. Cabals commenced in the army; and Kichard, who wanted the energy and resolution of his father, was unable to subdue them, and accordingly resigned his protec- torship on the 22nd of April, ]6o9.* A council of officers * An old pamphlet, printed within a month of the time, viz. in May, 1C59, 432 PERSONAL HISTORY OF was now formed, who endeavoured to revive the Long Parlia- ment, but no sooner was it recalled than continual struggles took place between that and the military. The army in the meantime had become dangerous. The Parliament, alarmed at the daily increase of its power, 1659, entitled, " The World in a Maze, or Oliver's Ghost," is very satirical on this subject : we give the^commencement : — " Oliver. Richard, Richard, Richard, Richard ! Rich. Wlio calls Richard ? 'Tis a hollow voice ; And yet perhaps it may be mine own thoughts. Oliver. No, 'Tis thy father risen from the grave. Who would not have thee fool'd, nor yet turn knave. Rich. I could not help it, father, they out-witted my proceedings. Oliver. Did I not leave the government to thee ? Rich. Father, they put me on it to agree. To keep the nation quiet. Oliver. Not meaning thou shouldst rule long. Rich. I ne'er desired it. ' Oliver. Then thou wast not ambitious of honour ? Rich. No ; honour is but a bauble, And to keep it is but trouble ; Only they that are well descended, ^ Shall ever be commended and befriended. Oliver. What, dost thou tell me of that ? we have won all by the sword, and so we'll keep it. Rich. What, whether we can or no ? Oliver. 'Tis true, Dick, I must confess, I have been somewhat ambitious of honour, thou knowest ; now I commend thy modesty all this while ; but prithee, Dick, tell me one thing, because my conscience accused me before I died, concerning the paying of the soldiers. Rich. That thing was questioned by a Parliament too good to hold long. Oliver. Who turned them out ? Rich. Not I. Oliver. Who then ? Rich. The sword-men. Oliver. Then they overpowered thee ; They could never do so with me. Rich. Mistake me not, you overpowered a king, From whence this mischief all this while doth spring, He gave the staff out of his hand 'tis known, And then at last you made the power your own ; The people of the land do find it so. From whence proceeds their misery and woe ; Sir, can you deny it .'' Oliver. No." CHARLES II. 433 casliieied the general officers, including Lambert, who in turn placed troops in the streets leading to "Westminster Hall, to intercept the members on their way to the house ; whilst a soleiim la.st was kept, the usnal jjrelude to signal violence. At this j)eriod the wily and cautious Monk stopped forward to effect the king's restoration. He rapidly marched towards Lambert, who was soon deserted by his soldiers, and shortly afterwards arrested and committed to the Tower. He then, by a series of skilful measures, brought about the dissolution of the Long Parliament, and a new one was called, the elections for which were everywhere in favour of the king's party. Throughout all these proceedings his reserve was impenetral)le, and with only a single friend, a Devonshire gentleman named JMorrice, did he deliberate concerning the great enterprise which he was contemplating. At this junc- ture, Sir John Granville, who had a commission from his majesty, obtained, after some difficulty, a private interview with JMonk, during which, finding the king's messenger to be a person of trust, the general communicated his whole inten- tions, but would onl}' deliver a verbal message. He assured Charles that ho would diei or bring him home to his royal inheritance, and advisoil him to rpiit Spain, where he had resorted for assistance at this juncture, lest he should be detained as a pledge for the recovery of Dunkirk and Jamaica. The king immediately followed his directions, and very narrowly escaped to Breda ; whilst Granville was sent back with a letter addressed by Charles to the Parliament, by whom it was greedily received, and ordered to be printed ; and the Lords, perceiving tne spirit by which the people were actuated, as well as the Commons, hastened to reinstate themselves in their ancient authority, and to take their share in the settlement of the nation. On the 8th of JMay, 1 6G0, the two houses attended, and the king was proclaimed with great solemnity, in Palace- yard, at Whitehall, and at Temjile-bar. The Commons voted 500/. to buy a jewel for Granville; a present of 50,000/. was conferred on the king, 10,000/. on the Duke of York, and 5,000/. on the Duke of Gloucester. A deputa- tion of Lords and Commons was despatched to invite his majesty to return and take possession of the gLJvernment ; 2p 4y4 PERSONAL HISTORY OP and Admiral Montague was commanded to attend him upon the coast of Holland, with a squadron of ships to bring him over. Charles's condition, upon receiving the invitation of Par- liament, is described as miserable in the extreme. Pepys says, that all his clothes, and those of his attendants, were not worth forty shillings ; and so delighted was he with the money, that he called the Princess Royal and the Duke of York to look at it as it lay in the portmanteau. He imme- diately removed from Breda to the Hague, where he was splendidly entertained by the States ; and on the 24th of May he embarked at Sheveling. After a prosperous voyage, he landed at Dover on the 20th, and some of the seamen who brought him over declared, that the first time they had ever heard the Common Prayer and God-damn-ye, was on board the ship that came home with his majesty, alluding to the puritanical rigour with which both swearing and the reading of the English liturgy had been prohibited. At length, on the 29th of May, and the anniversary of his birth-day, he entered London amidst the most fervent joy and rapturous exultations. The roads were everywhere thronged with spectators ; the houses were decorated with streamers, flowers, and ribands ; and he entered Whitehall amidst the roar of cannon, and the acclamations of thousands. The whole nation, according to Burnet, was mad with delight. Through- out the night the sky was illumined with bonfires and fire- works, and the streets ran with wine. Charles, however, displayed his gratitude to heaven by passing the night in the arms of Mrs. Palmer, afterwards Lady Castlemaine and Duchess of Cleveland, at the house of Sir Samuel Morland, at Lambeth. Of the king's restoration, Evelyn gives the following short but graphic description in his Diary :—" May 29 tli, 1660. This day his Majesty Charles the Second came to London, after a sad and long exile, and calamitous suffering, both of the king and church, being seventeen years. This was also his birth-day, and with a triumj^h of above 20,000 horse and foot, brandishing their swords and shouting with inexpressible joy ; the ways strewed with flowers, the bells ringing, the streets hung with tapestry, fountains running with wine; the CDAULES II. 43.') mayor, aWernicn, and all tlio companies in tlioir liveries, cIiaiD» of gold, and banners ; lords and nobles clad in cloth of silver, gold, and velvet; tlic windows and balconies all set Avitli ladies ; trnnipcts, nuisic, and myriads of people Hocking, even so far as from Rochester, so as they were seven hours in pass- ing the city, even from two o'clock in the afternoon till nine at night. " 1 stood in the Strand and beheld it, and blessed God. And all this was done without one drop of bloodshed, and by that very army which robcllcd against him ; but it was the Lord's doing, for such a rebellion was never mentioned in any history, ancient or modern, since the return of the Jews from the Babylonish captivity ; nor so joyful a day, or so bright, ever seen in this nation, this happening when to expect or effect it was beyond all human policy." In his Diary, on the 4th of June, he adds : " The eager- ness of men, w(micn, and children to see his majesty and kiss liis hands, was so great, that he had scarce leisure to eat for some days, coming as they did from all parts of the nation ; and the king being as willing to give them that satisfaction, would have none kept out, but gave free access to all sorts of people." In reference to this enthusiastic reception, Charles sarcas- tically remarked, thcit it must have been his own fault he was so long absent, as every one seemed unanimous in pro- moting his return. One of Charles's first public acts was touching for the evil, which Evelyn thus describes : "July Gth, 1660. His majesty began first to touch for the evil according to custom, thus : his majesty sitting under his state in the banqueting-house, the chirurgeons cause the sick to be brought or led up to tlie throne, wdiere they kneeling, the king strokes their faces or cheeks with both his hands at once, at which instant a chap- lain in his formalities says, ' He put his hands upon them, and he healed them.' This is said to every one in particular. When they have been all touched, they conic up again in the same order, and the other chaplain kneeling, and having angel- gold strung on white riband on his arm, delivers them one by one to his majesty, who puts them about the necks of the touched as they pass, whilst the first chaplain repeats, ' That 2 F 2 'loG PERSONAL HISTORY OF is the true light who came into the world.' Then follows an epistle (as at first a gospel), with the liturgy, prayers for the sick, with some alterations, lastly the blessing : and then the lord-chamberlain and comptroller of the household bring a basin, ewer, and towel, for his majesty to wash." In this man- ner his majesty stroked above six hundred, and such was his princely patience and tenderness to the poor afllicted creatures, that, though it took up a very long time, his majesty, without betraying weariness, was pleased to make inquiry whether there were any more that had not yet been touched. Charles II., when he ascended the throne, was thirty years of age; he was crowned on the 22nd of April, 16G1, and married to Catherine of Braganza, the Infanta of Portugal, on the 21st of May, 16G2, Some overtures had been made by the father of this princess to Charles I., as far back as the year 1644, when she was only seven years of age, and Charles, then Prince of Wales, only fourteen, but her being a Roman Catholic seems to have prevented their being ac- cepted. The expediency of choosing a Protestant queen was on the present occasion suggested by many of the lords, but Charles asked where he should find one. Several German princesses were mentioned, but, " Odds fish," ex- claimed the king, " they are all dull and foggy." The selection of Catherine has been attributed to Clarendon, who, as she was said to be incapable of bearing children, naturally chose her, as he did not wish to deprive the Duke of York of the succession. Her promised portion of 500,000^. ren- dered the marriage acceptable to Charles ; but a sight of the portrait of the dark-eyed Infanta is said to have had some effect upon his decision. This very portrait was in the pos- session of Horace Walpole, and lately sold at the dispersion of the Strawberry Hill collection, to Viscount Holmesdale, for thirty-two guineas. Catherine is there represented as a lovely, glowing brunette, with enchanting dark eyes, and a rich profusion of chesnut hair. Her dowry was to have consisted of 500,000i?. sterling, in ready money ; the territory of Tangier ; the island of Bom- bay ; with a free trade in Brazil and the East Indies, which the Portuguese had hitherto denied to all nations but them- selves. Accordingly the Earl of Sandwich was despatched CHARLES II. 437 Avitli a fleet to take possession of Tangier, and dirccte'l to visit Portugal on his return and conduct the queen to Enghind. The former he accomplished, but on reaching Portugal, the queen-mother was compelled to confess her inability for paying more than the half of her daughter's portion, pledging herself, however, to i)ay the residue within the year. This wa.s a most peri)lexing circumstance for the poor ambassador, but he at length consented to receive the moiety ; though scarcely had he done so, before he had the mortification of discovering that, instead of being paid in ready money, according to the treaty, the sum was to be delivered in the form of bags of sugar, spices, and other merchandize. This disagreeable atl'air was at length arranged by the earl's agreeing to receive them on board his ships as a consignment to some merchant in London, who should be empowered by the quecu-regcnt to take them in bulk, and pay the king the money which had been stipulated ; whilst a bond was given by the crown for the payment of the remainder. Of the Infanta's reception in England, Rereshy, in his Memoirs, says: "On the 19th of Maj', 1662, the king went to receive the Infanta at Portsmouth, attended by the greatest court I ever saw in my progress. But though upon this occasion every thing was gay and S2)lendid, and profusely joyful, it was easy to discern that the king was not exces- sively charmed with his new bride, who was a very little woman, with a pretty tolerable face ; she, neither in person nor manners, had any one article to stand in competition with tlie charms of the Countess of Castleuiaine (afterwards Duchess of Cleveland), the finest woman of her age. It is well known that the lord chancellor had the blame of this unfruitful match, and that the queen was said to have been incapable of conception." After Charles's marriage, his first great difficulty was to reconcile his new queen to his mistress. Lady Castlemaine. He had previously endeavoured to stitle the jealousy of the latter, by promising that on his union she should be made one of the ladies of the queen's bedchamber. Accordingly- at the head of the list of appointments Catherine was startled with seeing the name of the dreaded Lady Castlemaine, of whom she had received previous notice. She instantly drew 438 PERSONAL HISTORY OF her pen across it, and, according to Pepys, cut short all remonstrances by telling the king he must either accede to her wishes, or send her back to Lisbon. Charles yielded at the time, but again tried the experiment by presenting his mistress to her majesty before the assembled court. Not having distinctly heard her name, Catherine, to the surprise of every one, received her graciously, and permitted her to kiss her hand. A whisper from one of her Portuguese ladies admonished her of the fact. Her colour instantly changed ; her eyes suffused with tears ; and the blood gushing from her nostrils, she was carried from the apartment in a fit. Some time elapsed before she could be prevailed upon to sanction her husband's infidelity by such an appointment. The king tried to pacify her by saying that his honour was at stake, and promising to have nothing more to do with Lady Castlemaine, which promise of course he instantly violated. Charles then applied to Lord Clarendon to effect a reconci- liation, but after three interviews, she still shrunk with anger and abhorrence from the indignity proposed. At length the king altered his demeanour, and treated her with coldness and neglect ; she found herself left out in all parties of amuse- ment, and in this conjuncture she suddenly fell into Charles's wishes. She conversed with her rival before a large party, and we find her subsequently joining in many of the wild frolics of the ladies of the court. We hear but little of her in the after part of the reign. She was once with child, but miscarried, which contradicted the report that she was incapable of bearing children ; and upon the occasion of a court frolic in which she joined, it was said that the Duke of Buckingham proposed to steal her away and send her to a plantation ; but Charles declined it, saying " It was a wicked thing to make a poor lady miserable, only because she Avas his wife, and had no children by him, which was no fault of hers." From the very commencement of Charles's reign, his thought- less and reckless profusion was continually involving him in difficulties; and one of his first unpo23ular acts was the sale of Dunkirk, in 1662, to the French, for the sum of 400,000^. The odium of this latter transaction has been thrown on Lord Clarendon, who however in the Continuation of his Life, states, CHARLES ir. 439 that the matter was dehated by the king and a secret committee; and that hesides the king's straits, they were inlhieiiccd hy the foUowing reasons. 1. That the jirofit which accrued from the keeping of Dunkirk was very inconsiderable. 2. Tiiat the charge of maintaining it, besides any accidents it might receive from the enomy, anionntcil to above 120,000^. per annum. 3. That if J)unkirk was kept, the king must shortly go to war with either France or Spain. He also adds, that the worth of the artillery, ammunition, and stores did not exceed 20,000/. In 1G63, a rupture with Holland took place, and in 1G67, a Dutch fleet entered the Thames, and proceeding up the Medway, burned and destroyed ships as far as Chatham. In 166.5, the dreadful 2>lague raged in London, which swept away 97,309 persons. Keresby says, " It was a common thing for l)eoiile to drop down in the streets as they went about their business." In 16tj6, the great tire of London broke out in a bakehouse in Pudding-lane, near Fish-street, and after raging for three days, reduced two-thirds of the metropolis to ashes. Throughout this dreadful calamity, Charles disj)layed an energy which his most intimate friends thought him inca- pable of exercising. He broke from his pleasures and his mistresses, mixed among the workmen, animated them by his example, and often rewarded them with his own hand. !Many attempts were made to discover its origin, which at the time was universally attributed to the Papists;'" but though a rigid inquiry was instituted, nothing satisfactory could ever be ascertained. In 1667, the great Clarendon was disgraced and banished, which led to the establishment of a ministry in 1670, consist- ing of Clitl'ord, Ashley, Buckingham, Arlington, and Lauder- dale, which was called the Cabal, a word which the initial let- * A Latin inscription on the Monument, erected in commemoration of this calamity, ascribes the fire to the Papists ; and though the imputation was erased in the reign of James II., it was restored at the Revolution. Pope thus alludes to it : — "Where London's column pointing to the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lies." It was again erased, by order of the Common Council, shortly after the passing of the Catholic Emancipation bill 440 PERSONAL HISTORY OF tersof their names happened to compose. In 1671, Parliament being met to grant the king some money, Sir John Coventry, according to Reresby, "made a speech, reflecting on the king's wenching among the players ; for at that time, besides his mistresses of higher quality, Cliarlea entertained Mary Davis and Nell Gwynn. It seems that Coventry, having moved in the House of Commons for an imposition on the play- houses, Sir John Berkenhead, to excuse them, said, ' they had been of great service to the king.' Upon which Coventry asked, ' whether he meant the men or women players.' This being reported to the Duke of Monmouth, he ordered Sir Thomas Sands and three others to waylay Coventry ; which they accordingly did, and, taking him out of his coach, slit his nose. This caused a great heat in the house, and gave rise to the act against malicious maiming and wounding." A short time after, the notorious Colonel Blood formed his design of carrying off the crown and regalia from the Tower. He was overtaken and seized, and frankly avowed his guilt, but refused to tell his accomplices. " The fear of death," he said, " should never engage him to deny guilt, or betray a friend." Charles went to see him, and inquired how he dared attempt the deed ? " My father," said Blood, " lost a good estate in fighting /or the Crown, and I considered it no harm to recover it hy the crown." He also acquainted the king with an idea which he once had of murdering him, but was checked by an awe of majesty. Charles, it is said, in admiration of his wit and courage, not only granted him a pardon, but, no doubt, for some stronger reason, which has never transpired, gave him an estate of 500Z. a year, in Ire- land, and encouraged his attendance about his person ; while old Edwards, who had bravely ventured his life, and had been wounded in defending the crown and regalia, was forgotten and neglected. In 1 674, Shaftesbury, who had been made Lord Chancel- lor, was compelled to deliver up his seals ; and a number of his political enemies were assembled in the ante-chamber to witness and triumph over his deprivation of the badges of his office. Shaftesbury, who observed this, resolved to deprive them of that expected enjoyment ; and accordingly begged the king that he might be allowed to carry the seals before CIIAHLES II. 441 him to chapel, and send them to lilm afterwards from )iis house, in order that he mii,dit not a])pear to ho dismi.s.sed witli contcnijjt. ''CodriHsh," rci)lied Cliarles, "I will not do it with any circuni.stance that looks like an affront." Having conversed for a length of time upon such gay topics as usually amused the king, his adversaries, who had been all the while on the rack of expectation, were at length greeted with the sight of Charles and his chancellor, issuing forth together, apparently upon the best possible terms. His expected suc- cessor and enemies were inconsolable; they concluded nothing less than that Shaftesbury's peace was made. After enjoy- ing this triumph, the ex-chancellor returned the seals to the king. Charles always regarded Shaftesbury with some sort of personal affection, as this anecdote proves ; and the latter could be as witty as the merry king himself. On one occa- sion. Charles, who was an able judge of the matter, placed him in no inferior rank among the profligates of the day. " Shaftesbury," said ho, " I verily believe thou art the wickedest dog in England." "For a subject, your majesty, I believe I am," retorted the witty statesman. In 1677, AVilliam, Prince of Orange, came to England, with proposals for marrying the Princess Jlary (eldest daughter of the Duke of York, and heir apparent to the crown, as the duke had no male issue). Reresby, in his Memoirs, gives the following amusing anecdote of the king's reducing Prince "William to a state of liquor: — "One night, at a supper given by the Duke of Buckingham, the king made him drink very hard ; the heavy Dutchman was naturally averse to it, but being once entered, was the most frolicsome of the com- j)any; and now the mind took him to break the windows of the chambers of the maids of honour, and he had got into their apartments, had they not been timely rescued. His mistrqgs, I suppose, did not like him the worse for such a notable indi- cation of his vigour." In 1678 took place the pretended discovery of the Popish Plot, by Titus Oates and Bedloe, which for a time difl'used a universal panic. Oates was the son of an Anabaptist preacher, and had been previously indicted for perjury. He is described as " a low man, of an ill-cut, very short neck, 442 PERSONAL HISTORY OF and his visage and features most particular. His mouth was the centre of his face ; and a compass there would sweep his nose, forehead, and chin, within the diameter." During the time of his exaltation, he walked about with guards, for fear he should be murdered by the Papists, and had lodgings as- signed him at Whitehall, with a pension of 1,200^. per annum. He put on an episcopal garb, and was called, or called himself, the saviour of the nation. Whoever he pointed at was taken up and committed ; so that many people got out of his way as from a blast, and glad if they could prove their two last years' conversation. On his examination before the council, he committed many palpable blunders. He spoke of Don Juan as doing some great thing towards killing the king ; and upon the being asked what sort of man he was, Oates answered that he was a tall black man. Charles could not refrain from laughing, for he happened to know Don Juan personally, and he was a low, red-haired man. Again, when having spoken of the Jesuits' College at Paris, the king asked him where it stood ; upon which he answered as much out of the way as if he had said, " Gresham College stood in Westmin- ster." During the heat of his plot, he liad the audacity to accuse the queen of poisoning the king ; and even went to the bar of the House of Commons, and said, with his peculiar enunciation, " Aye, Taitus Oates, accause Catherine, Queen of England, of haigh traison 1" Charles was so indignant at this, that he immediately put him in confinement. " They think," said he, " I have a mind to a new wife ; but, for all that, I will not see an innocent woman abused." An immense number of persons suffered by the impeachments of Oates, during a space of upwards of two years. The last victim was the unfortu- nate Viscount Staffurd, who was beheaded on the 29th of December, 1680; and his execution may be looked upon as tlip concluding scene of this shameful and barbarous delusion. In 1683, Oates was convicted of having called the Duke of Monmouth a popish traitor, and was fined 100,000^. He was subsequently found guilty of perjury by King James, and ordered to be pilloried five times a year, and imj^risoned for life. After the Revolution, however, he appears to have been released, and, strange to say, received a pension of 400/. per annum from William of Orange. CHARLES IT. 443 The kin^, throuf^hout the wliolc jjcrioil of his reign, was at variance with his Parliament. Ilis profuse expenditure upon hia mistresses obli^'eJ liim to bo continually a])j»lying for money, and so little could they depend upon him, that he was said to have retained a lar;,'e portion of the sum which the Commons had voted for carryinff on the war with Holland, and a motion was hrou^dit forward for examining the accounts. For all this be was frequently reduced to great necessity. Pepys tells us, that at one time he was actually in want of linen ; and a 3Ir. Townsend, the wardrobe-man, tuld him that the linen-draper was owed 5,000Z., and the grooms, being un- able to get their fees, took away the king's linen at the quar- ter's end ; and yet, at this very ])eriod, his mistress, the Duchess of Cleveland, is reported to have lost in gaming 25,000/. on a single night. Charles, however, could jest upon his difficulties. lie once asked Stillingdeet why he always read his sermons in the chapel-royal, but preached extempore everywhere else. Stil- lingfleet answered, that it was from awe of his audience, and begged to know why his majesty read his speeches to Parlia- ment. " Odd's fish. Doctor," said the king, " 'tis no difficult question. I always ask for money, and I have so often asked for it, that I am ashamed to look the members in the face." His continual dissensions with Parliament, combined with the promptings of his brother, the Duke of York, induced Charles to endeavour to govern without one. In 16S1, he accordingly dissolved it, without attempting to call a new one ; and every day, from that period, his authority made great advances. In 1683, the celebrated Rye-house conspiracy was discovered, which was followed by the melancholy execution of Lord Kussell and Algernon Sidney. Innumerable applica- tions were made to the king for the pardon of Russell. The old Earl of Bedford offered a hundred thousand pounds to the Duchess of Portsmouth, but the king was inexorable. The execution of Algernon Sidney is regarded as one of the greatest blemishes of Charles's reign. The violent and inhu- man Jefteries was chief justice ; and though the evidence was illegal, yet a packed jury was prevailed on to give a verdict against him. On the discovery of this plot, Evelyn says, " The public was in great consternation ; his majesty very 444 PERSONAL HISTORY OP melanclioly, and not stirring without double guards ; all the avenues and private doors about "Whitehall and the Park shut up, few admitted to walk in it. The Papists, in the mean- time, very jocund, and indeed with reason, seeing their own plot brought to nothing, and turned to ridicule, and now a conspiracy of Protestants, as they called them." During the latter period of his reign Charles is said to have been almost absolute; but, notwithstanding the continual promptings of his brother to rivet the fetters of tyranny, he could not forget the circumstances which led to his father's execution and his own exile. He was overheard one day to say, in opposing some of the duke's hasty counsels, " Brother, I am too old to go again to my travels ; you may, if you choose it." It is even said that Charles meditated giving more freedom to his subjects, and summoning a new Par- liament, when he was suddenly seized with a fit resembling apoplexy, and after languishing for a few days he expired, on the 6th of February, 1685, in the fifty-fifth year of his age, and twenty-fifth of his reign ; but according to Burnet and many other writers, not without a suspicion of poison. Indeed Burnet says that the Duchess of Portsmouth confessed that he was poisoned. AYelwood states that this suspicion acquired weight from the following incident, which befel the king a few years before his death. One evening at Windsor, having drunk more liberally than usually, Charles retired from the company to the next room, where, wrapping himself in his cloak, he fell asleep upon a couch. A short time afterwards he arose and returned to the company, when a servant lay down upon the same couch, in the king's cloak, and was found stabbed dead with a poniard. The matter was hushed, and no inquiry was made ; nor was it ever known how it happened. Hume, how- ever, observes, " that this suspicion must be allowed to vanish like many others, of which all histories are full." Of the circumstances attending Charles's last illness, Evelyn relates the following: — "Feb. 4, 1675, I went to London, hearing that his majesty, on the Monday before (Feb 2), had been surprised in his bedchamber by an apoplectic fit, so that if, by God's providence. Dr. King had not been accidentally present to let him blood, his majesty had certainly died that moment. It was a mark of the extraordinary dexterity, reso- ciiAHLr.s If. 4 },■:; lution, and presence of mind of the doctor, to lot liim blood in the very jmroxv.'^ni, witliout staying' tlio coniiiiL' of the other j)hysiciuns, wliich re;L,'iilurly .shouKl have been (hdie, and for want of which he must have a re;;uhir pardon (which was afterwards ^'ranted). This rescued lii.s majesty for the instant, but it was a short ro})rieve. On Wednesday he was cupped, let blood in buth jugulars, had both vomit and i)urges, wjiich so relieved him that on Thursday hopes of recovery were sig- nificil in the jmblic Gazette. The same day the physicians thought him feverish, so they prescribed him the famous Jesuit powder, but it made him worse. Thus he passed Thursday night with great difficulty, when, com])laining of a pain in his side, they drew twelve ounces more blood from him ; this was by six in the morning on Frida}'', and it gave him relief, but it did not continue, for being now in much pain, and struggling for breath, he lay dosing, and after some contlicts, the physicians despairing of him, he gave up the ghost at half an hour after eleven in the morning, being the 6th of February, 1685. " Prayers were solemnly made in all the churches, especi- ally the court chapels, where the chaplains relieved one another every half-quarter of an hour from the time he began to be in danger till he expired. Those who assisted his majesty's devotions were, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishops of London, Durham, and Ely, but more especially Dr. Ken, the Bishop of Bath aud Wells. It is saild us, that he believed the t-hip inii,dit bo ready next night ; but that there had been some mistake betwixt him and the master of the ship. Upon wliich, I not thinking it fit to go back again to the same place where we had sat up the night before, we went to a village called , about four miles in the country above Lyme, and sent in Peter to know of the merchant whether the ship would be ready. But the master of the ship, doubting that it was some dangerous employment he was hired upon, absolutely refused the merchant, and would not carry us over. Whereupon we were forced to go back again to Frank Windham's to Trent, where we might be in some safety till we had hired another ship. As soon as we came to Frank Windham's, I sent away presently to Colonel Robert Philips, who lived then at Salis« bury, to see what he could do for the getting me a ship ; which he undertook very willingly, and had got one at South- ampton, but by misfortune she was, amongst others, pressed to transport their soldiers to Jersey, by which she failed us also. Upon this, I sent further into Sussex, where Robin Philips knew one Colonel Gunter, to see whether he could hire a ship anywhere upon that coast. And not thinking it con- venient for me to stay much longer at Frank Windham's (where I had been in all about a fortnight, and was become known to very many), I went directly away to a widow gen- tlewoman's house, one ^Irs. Hyde, some four or five miles from Salisbury, where I came into the house just as it was almost dark, with Robin Philips only, not intending at first to make myself known. But just as I alighted at the door Mrs. Hyde knew me, though slie had never seen me but onco in her life, and that was Avith the king, my father, in the 472 KING Charles's escape army, when we marched by Salisbury, some years before, in the time of the war ; but she being a discreet woman, took no notice at that time of me, I passing only for a friend of Robin Philips's, by whose advice I went thither. At supper there were with us Frederick Hyde, since a judge, and his sister-in-law, a widow, Robin Philips, myself, and Dr. Henshaw, since Bishop of London, whom I had appointed to meet me there. While we were at supper, I observed Mrs. Hyde and her brother Frederick to look a little earnestly at me, which led me to believe they might know me. But I was not at all startled at it, it having been my purpose to let her know who I was ; and accordingly after supper Mrs. Hyde came to me, and I discovered myself to her; who told me, she had a very safe place to hide me in, till we knew whether our ship was ready or no. But she said it was not safe for her to trust anybody but herself and her sister; and there- fore advised me to take my horse next morning, and make as if I quitted the house, and return again about night ; for she would order it so that all her servants and everybody should be out of the house, but herself and her sister, whose name I remember not. So Robin Philips and I took our horses, and went as far as Stone-henge ; and there we staid looking upon the stones for some time,^' and returned back again to Hale (the place where Mrs. Hyde lived), about the hour she appointed ; where I went up into the hiding-hole, that was very con- venient and safe, and staid there all alone (Robin Philips then going away to Salisbury) some four or five days. After four or five days' stay, Robin Philips came to the house and acquainted me that a ship was ready provided for me at Shoreham, by Colonel Gunter. Upon which, at two o'clock in the morning, I went out of the house by the back-way, and, with Robin Philips, met Colonel Gunter and my Lord Wilmot together, some fourteen or fifteen miles off, on my way towards Shoreham, and were to lodge that night at a * The king and Colonel Philips rode about the Downs, and took a view of the wonder of the country, Stone-henge ; where they found that the king's arithmetic gave the lie to the fabulous tale, that those stones cannot be told alike twice together. Ph. FROM AVORCESTEK. 4 73 place cullcil llamblcton, seven iiiilcs frum Port.smouth; because it was too long a journey to go in one day to Shoreham. And here we lay at a house of a brother-in-law of Colonel Gun- ter's, one Mr. , where I was not to be known (I being still in the same grey cloth suit, as a serving-man), though the master of the house was a very honest poor man, who, while wo were at supper, came in, he having been all the day playing the good-fellow at an ale-house in the town, and taking a stool, sat down with us ; where his brother-in-law, Colonel Gunter, talking very feelingly concerning Cromwell and all his party, he went and whispered his brother in the ear, and asked, whether I was not some round-headed rogue's son ; for I looked very suspiciously. Upon which, Colonel Gunter answering for me, that ho might trust his life in my hands, ho came and took me by the hand, and drinking a good glass of beer to me, called me brother round-head. About that time my Lord Southampton, that was then at Titchlield, suspecting, for what reason I don't know, that it was possible I might be in the country, sent either to Robin Philips or Dr. Henshaw, to offer his service, if be could serve me in ray escape. But being then provided of a ship, I would not put him to the danger of having any thing to do with it. The next day we went to a place, four miles off of Shore- ham, called Briglit-helmstone, where we were to meet with the master of the ship, as thinking it more convenient for us to meet there than just at Shoreham, where the ship was. So when we came to the inn at Bright-hclmstone, we met with one (^Mansel"], the merchant, who had hired the vessel, in company with her master,* the merchant only knowing me, as having hired her only to carry over a person of qua- lity, that was escaped from the battle of Worcester, without naming anybody. And as we were all (viz. Robin Philips, my Lord Wilmot, Colonel Gunter, the merchant, the master, and I), I observed that the master of the vessel looked very much upon me. And as soon as we had supped, calling the merchant aside, the master told him, that he had not dealt fairly with him ; for though he had given him a very good * Mr. Francis Mansel, the faithful merchant who provided the bark. Captain Tettersball, the master of the bark. Ph. 474 KING Charles's escape price foi the carrying over tliat gentleman, yet he had not been clear with him ; " For," says he, " he is the king, and I very well know him to be so." Upon which, the merchant denying it, saying that he was mistaken, the master answered, ''• I know him very well ; for he took my ship, together with other fishing- vessels at Bright-helmstone, in the year 1648 (which was when I commanded the king my father's fleet, and I very kindly let them go again). But," says he to the merchant, " be not troubled at it ; for I think I do God and my country good service, in preserving the king, and, by the grace of God, I will venture my life and all for him, and set him safely on shore, if I can, in France." Upon which, the merchant came and told me what had passed be- tween them ; and thereby found myself under a necessity of trusting him. But I took no kind of notice of it presently to him ; but thinking it convenient not to let him go home, lest he should be asking advice of his wife, or anybody else, we kept him with us in the inn, and sat up all night drinking beer, and taking tobacco with him. And here I also ran another very great danger, as being confident I was known by the master of the inn, for as I was standing, after supper, by the fire-side, leaning my hand upon a chair, and all the rest of the company being gone into another room, the master of the inn came in, and fell a talking with me, and just as he was looking about, and saw there was nobody in the room, he, upon a sudden, kissed my hand that was upon the back of the chair, and said to me, " God bless you wheresoever you go ; I do not doubt, before I die, but to be a lord, and my wife a lady : " so I laughed, and went away into the next room, not desiring then any further discourse with him, there being no remedy against my being known by him, and more discourse might have but raised suspicion. On which consideration, I thought it best for to trust him in that manner, and he proved A'ery honest. About four o'clock in the morning, myself and the com- pany before named went towards Shoreham, taking the master of the ship with us, on horseback, behind one of our com- pany, and came to the vessel's side, which was not above sixty con. But it being low-water, and the vessel lying dry, FROM WORCESTER. 475 I and my Lord Wilniot j^ot iip with :i ladder into her, ami went au(l lay down in the little cabin, till the tide came to fetch us oft'. But I was no sooner got into the ship, and lain down upon the bed, but the master came in to me, fell down upon his knees, and kissed my hand ; telling me, that he knew me very well, and would venture life, and all that he had in the world, to set me down safe in France. So about seven o'clock in the morning, it being high- water, we went out of the port ; but the master being bound for Pool, loaden with sea-coal, because he would not have it seen from Shoreham that he did not go his intended voyage, but stood all the day, with a very easy sail, towards the Isle of Wight (only my Lord Wilmot and myself, of my company, on board). And as we were sailing, the master came to me, and desired me that I would persuade his men to use their endeavours with me to get him to set us on shore in France, the better to cover him from any suspicion thereof. Upon which, I went to the men, which were four and a boy, and told them truly, that we were two merchants that had some misfortunes, and were a little in debt ; that we had some money owing us at Rouen, in France, and were afraid of being arrested in England ; that if they would persuade the master (the wind being very fair) to give us a trip over to Dieppe, or one of those ports near Eouen, they would oblige us very much, and with that I gave them twenty shillings to drink. Upon which, they undertook to second me, if I would propose it to the master. So I went to the master, and told him our condition, and that if he would give us a trip over to France, we would give him some consideration for it. Upon which he counterfeited difficulty, saying, that it would hinder his voyage. But his men, as they had pro- mised me, joining their persuasions to ours, and, at last, he yielded to set us over. So about five o'clock in the afternoon, as we were in sight of the Isle of Wight, we stood directly over to tlie coast of France, the wind being then full north ; and the next morn- ing, a little before day, we saw the coast. But the tide failing us, and the wind coming about to the south-west, we were forced to come to an anchor, within two miles of the shore, till the tide of flood was done. 476 KING Charles's escape prom Worcester. "VVe found ourselves just before a harbour in France, called Fescamp ; and just as the tide of ebb was made, espied a vessel to leeward of us, which, by her nimble working, I suspected to be an Ostend privateer. Upon which, I went to ray Lord Wilmot, and telling him my opinion of that ship, proposed to him our going ashore in the little cock-boat, for fear they should prove so, as not knowing, but finding us going into a port of France (there being then a war betwixt France and Spain), they might plunder us, and possibly carry us away and set us ashore in England ; the master also him- self had the same opinion of her being an Ostender, and came to me to tell me so, which thought I made it my busi- ness to dissuade him from, for fear it should tempt him to set sail again with us for the coast of England ; yet so sen- sible I was of it, that 1 and my Lord Wilmot went both on shore in the cock-boat ; and going up into the town of Fes- camp, staid there all day to provide horses for Rouen. But the vessel which had so affrighted us proved afterwards ouly a French hoy. The next day we got to Rouen, to an inn, one of the best in the town, in the Fish-market, where they made difficulty to receive us, taking us, by our clothes, to be some thieves, or persons that had been doing some very ill thing, until Mr. Sandburne, a merchant, for whom I sent, came and answered for us. One particular more there is observable in relation to this our passage into France ; that the vessel that brought us over, had no sooner landed me, and I given her master a pass, for fear of meeting with any of our Jersey frigates, but the wind turned so happily for her, as to carry her directly for Pool, without its being known that she had ever been upon the coast of France. "We staid at Rouen one day, to provide ourselves better clothes, and give notice to the queen, my mother (who was then at Paris), of my being safely lauded. After which, set- ting out in a hired coach, I was met by my mother, with coaches, short of Paris ; and by her conducted thither where I safely arrived. BOSCOBEL; OR, THE COMPLETE HISTORY OF THE MOST MIRACULOUS PRESERVATION OF KING CHARLES II. After the Battle of Worcester September the 3rd, 1651. TO WHICH IS ADDED, CLAUSTRUM REGALE RESERATUM ; OR, THE KING'S CONCEALMENT AT TRENT. TO THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY. Sir, Among the many addresses which every day offers your sacred majesty, this humbly hopes your particular gracious acceptance, since it has no other ambition than faithfully to represent to your majesty, and, by your royal permission, to all the world, the history of those miraculous provi- dences that preserved you in the battle of Worcester, concealed you in the wilderness at Boscobel, and led you on your way towards a land where you might safely expect the returning favours of Heaven, which now, after so long a trial, has graciously heard our prayers, and abundantly crowned your patience. And, as in the conduct of a great part of tliis greatest affair, it pleased God (the more to endear his mercies) to make choice of many very little, though fit, instruments ; so has my weakness, by this happy precedent, been encouraged to hope if not unsuitable for me to relate, what the wisest king thought proper for them to act ; wherein yet I humbly beg your majesty's pardon, being conscious to myself of my utter incapacity to express, either your unparalleled valour in the day of contending, or (which is a virtue far less usual for kings) your strong and even mind in the time of your sufferings. From which sublime endowments of your most heroic majesty, I derive these comforts to myself, that whoever undertakes to reach at your perfec- tions, must fall short as well as I, though not so much. And while I depend on youi* royal clemency more than others, I am more obliged to be Your majesty's most loyal subject, And most humble servant, THO. BLOUNT. TO THE READER. Behold, I present you with an history of wonders ; wonders so great, that, as no former age can parallel, succeeding times will scarce believe them. Expect here to read the highest tyranny and rebellion that was ever acted by subjects, and the greatest hardships and persecutions that ever were suffered by a king ; yet did his patience exceed his sorrows, and his virtue became at last victorious. Some particulars, I confess, are so superlatively extraordinary, that I easily should fear they would scarce gain belief, even from my modern reader, had I not this strong argument to secure me, that no ingenuous person will think me so frontless, as knowingly to write an untruth in an history where his sacred majesty (my dread sovereign, and the best of kings) bears the principal part, and most of the other persons concerned in the same action (except the Earl of Derby, Lord Wilmot, and Colonel Blague) still alive, ready to pour out shame and confusion on so impudent a forgery. But I am so far from that foul crime of publishing what's false, thait I can safely say I know not one line unauthentic ; such has been my care to be sure of the truth, that I have diligently collected the particulars from most of their mouths, who were the very actors themselves in this scene of miracles. To every individual person (as far as my industry could arrive to know) I have given the due of his merit, be it for valour, fidelity, or whatever other quality that any way had the honour to relate to his majesty's service. In this later edition, I have added some particulars which came to my knowledge since the first publication ; and have observed that, in this persecution, much of his majesty's actions and sufferings have run parallel with those of King David. And though the whole complex may want elegance and politeness of style (which the nature of such relations does not properly challenge), yet it cannot want truth, the chief ingredient for such undertakings ; in which assurance I am not afraid to venture myself in your hands. Read on, and wonder ! BOSCOBEL; OR, THE HISTORY OF KING CHARLES II. s MOST MIRACULOUS PKESEUVATION AFTKR THE BATTLIC OP WORCESTER. PART I. It was in June, in the year 1650, that Charles the Second, undoubted heir of Charles the First, of glorious memory. King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland (after his royal father ha- mediately sent back to bring a suit of his clothes for the king ; and by that time he arrived with them, William came, and both were brought into the ])arlour to the Earl of Derby, who * 2 Sam. xvi. 14. 494 BOSCOBEL. immediately carried them into an inner parlour (where the king was), and told William Penderel, "This is the king," pointing to his majesty ; " thou must have a care of him, and preserve him as thou didst me." And Mr. GifFard did also much conjure Richard to have a special care of his charge ; to which commands the two brothers yielded ready obedience. "Whilst Richard and William were thus sent for, his majesty had been advised to rub his hands on the back of the chimney, and with them his face, for a disguise, and some person had disorderly cut off his hair. His majesty having put off his garter, blue riband, George of diamonds, buff-coat, and other princely ornaments, committed his watch to the custody of the Lord Wilmot, and his George to Col. Blague, and distributed the gold he had in his pocket among his servants, and then put on a noggen coarse shirt, which was borrowed of Edward Martin, who lived in the house, and Richard Penderel's green suit and leather doublet, but had not time to be so disguised as he was afterwards, for both William and Richard Penderel did advertise the company to make haste away, in regard there was a troop of rebels commanded by Colonel Ashenhurst, quartered at Cotsal, but three miles distant, some of which troop came to the house within half an hour after the dissolu- tion of the royal troop. " Thus David and his men departed out of Keilah, and went withersoever they could go." * Richard Penderel conducted the king out at a back-door, unknown to most of the company (except some of the lords and Col. Roscarrock, who, with sad hearts, but hearty prayers, took leave of him), and carried him into an adjacent wood be- longing to Boscobel, called Spring Coppice, about half a mile from White Ladies (where " he abode, as David did in the wilderness of Ziph, in a wood"t), whilst William, Humphrey, and George were scouting abroad to bring what news they could learn to his majesty in the coppice, as occasion required. His majesty being thus, as they hoped, in a way of security, tlie duke. Earl of Derby, Earl of Lauderdale, Lord Talbot, and the rest (having Mr. Giffard for their guide, and being then not above forty horse, of which number his majesty's pad-nag was one, ridden by Mr. Richard Lane, one of the grooms of the bed-chamber), marched from White Ladies * 1 Sam. xxiii. 13. t Ibid. 15. BOSCOBEL. 495 northwards hy the way of Ne>rport, in hope to overtake or uieet General Lesley with the main body of Scotch horse. As soon as they were got into the road, the Lord Leviston (who commanded his majesty's life-guard) overtook them, pursued by a party of rebels under the conmiand of Colonel Blundel : the lords with their followers faced about, fought, and repelled thorn ; but when they came a little beyond New- port, some of Colonel Lilburn's men met them in the front, other rebels, from Worcester, pursued in the rear ; themselves and horses being sufficiently tired, the Earl of Derby, Earl of Lauderdale, Mr. Charles Giffard, and some others, were taken and carried prisoners, first to "Whitchurch, and from thence to an inn in Bunbury, in Cheshire, where Mr. Giffard found means to make an escape ; but the noble Earl of Derby was thence conveyed to AVestchester, and there tried by a pre- tended court-martial, held the 1st of October, 1651, by virtue of a commission from Cromwell, grounded on an execrable rump-act, of the 12th of August, then last past, the very title whereof cannot be mentioned without horror ; but it pretended most traitorously to prohibit correspondence with Charles Stuart (their lawful sovereign), under penalty of high treason, loss of life and estate, Prodigious rebels ! In this Black Tribunal there sat, as Judges, these persons, and under these titles : Colonel Humphrey Mackworth, president Major-General Mitten. Colonel Robert Duckenfield. Colonel Henry Bradshaw. Colonel Thomas Croxton. Colonel George Twisleton. Lieutenant- Colonel Henry Birkenhead. Lieutenant-Colonel Simon Finch. Lieutenant-Colonel Alexander Newton. Captain James Stepford. Captain Samuel Smith. Captain John Downes. Captain Vincent Corbet. Captain John Delves. \ Captain John Griffitli. Captain Thomas Portingtoa Captain Edward Alcock. Captain Ralph Pownall. Captain Richard Grantham. Captain Edward Stelfax. 4ii6 BOSCOBEL. THEIR CRUEL SENTENCE. " Resolved hy the Court upon the question : That James, Earl of Derby, is guilty of the breach of the act of the 1 2th of August, 1651, lastjaast, intituled, 'An Act prohibiting Cor- respondence with Charles Stuart or his Party,' and so of high treason against the commonwealth of England, and is there- fore worthy of death. " Resolved hy the Court : That the said James, Earl of Derby, is a traitor to the commonwealth of England, and an abetter, encourager, and assister of the declared traitors and enemies thereof, and shall be put to death by severing his head from his body, at the market-place in the town of Bolton, in Lancashire, upon Wednesday, the 15th day of this instant October, about the hour of one of the clock the same day." This was the authority, and some of these the persons, that so barbarously, and contrary to the law of nations, condemned this noble earl to death, notwithstanding his just plea, " That he had quarter for life given him by one Captain Edge, who took him prisoner." But this could not obtain justice, nor any intercession, mercy; so that on the 15th of the said October he was accordingly beheaded at Bolton, in a most barbarous and inhuman manner.* The Earl of Lauderdale, with several others, were carried prisoners to the Tower, and afterwards to Windsor Castle, where they continued divers years. Whilst the rebels were plundering those noble persons, the duke, with the Lord Leviston, Colonel Blague, Mr. Marma- duke Darcy, and Mr. Hugh May, forsook the road first, and soon after their horses, and betook themselves to a by-way, and got into Bloore Park, near Cheswardine, about five miles from Newport, where they received some refreshment at a little obscure house of Mr. George Barlow's, and afterwards met with two honest labourers, in an adjoining wood, to whom they communicated the exigent and distress which the fortune of war had reduced them to ; and finding them like to prove faithful, the duke thought fit to imitate his royal master, de- livered his George (which was given him by the Queen of * See the proceedings against him at large, with his prayers before his death, and his speech and courageous deportment on the scaffold; in Eng- land's Black Tribunal, 5th edit. p. 156, &c. BOSCOBKL. 49- Eni^land) to Mr. May («'lio preserved it tlirouirh all i'ot- tingliamshire, from thence to the Lady Yilliars's house at Booksljy, in l^eicestersliire ; and after many hardships and encounters, his grace got secure to London, and from thence to his majesty in France. At the same time the Lord liCviston, Colonel Blairiie, Mr. Darcy, and JMr. ^lay, all (juitteil their horses, disguised them- selves, and severally shifted for themselves, and seme of them, through various dangers and sufferings, contrived their escapes; in particular, JMr. May was forced to lie twenty-one days in a hav-mow belonging to one John Bold, an honest hu.sbandnian, who lived at Soudley : Bold having all that time rebel soldiers quartered in his house, yet failed ni)t to give a constant relief to his more welcome guest ; and when the coast was clear ol soldiers, Mr. May came to London on foot in his disguise. The Lord Talbot (seeing no hope of rallying) hasted towards his father's house at Longford, near Newport; where being arrived, he conveyed his horse into a neighbouring barn, but was iunnediately pursued by the rebels, who found the horse saddled, and by that concluded my lord not to be far oif, so that they searched Longford House narrowly, and some of them continued in it four or five days, during aJl which time mv lord was in a close jilace in one of the out-houses, almost stided for want of air, and had perished for want of food, had he not been once relieved in the dead of the night, and with much ditiiculty, by a trusty servant ; yet liis lordship thought it a great providence, even by these hardship.s, to escape the fury of such enemies, who sought the destruction of the no- bility, as well as of their king. In this interim the valiant Earl of Cleveland (who, being above sixty years of age, had marched twenty-one days toge- ther upon a trotting horse), had also made his escape from Worcester, when all the fighting W(»rk was over, and was got to Woodcot, in Shrojishire, whither he was pursued, and taken at or near Mistress Broughton's house, froiu whence he was 2 K 41)8 BOSCOBEL. carried prisoner to Stafford, and from thence to the Tower of London. Colonel Blague, remaining at Mr. Barlow's house at Bloor- pipe, about eight miles from Stafford, his first action was, with Mistress Barlow's privity and advice, to hide his majesty's George under a heap of chips and dust ; yet the colonel could not conceal himself so well, but that he was here, soon after, taken and carried prisoner to Stafford, and from thence con- veyed to the Tower of London. Meantime the George was transmitted to Mr. Robert Milward, of Stafford, for better security, who afterwards faithfully conveyed it to Colonel Blague in the Tower, by the trusty hands of Mr. Isaac Walton ; and the colonel not long after happily escaping thence, restored it to his majesty's own hands, which had been thus wonderfully preserved from being made a prize to sordid rebels. The Scotch cavalry (having no place to retreat unto nearer than Scotland) were soon after dispersed, and most of them taken by the rebels and country people in Cheshire, Lanca- shire, and parts adjacent. Thus was this royal army totally subdued, thus dispersed ; and if in this so important an affair, any of the Scottish com- manders were treacherous at "Worcester (as some suspected), he has a great account to make for the many years' miseries that ensued thereby to both nations, under the tyrannical, usurped government of Cromwell. But to return to the duty of my attendance on his sacred majesty in Spring Coppice. By that time Richard Penderel had conveyed hira into the obscurest part of it, it was about sunrising on Thursday morning, and the heavens wept bitterly at these calamities, insomuch as the thickest tree in the wood was not able to keep his majesty dry, nor was there any thing for him to sit on ; wherefore Richard went to Francis Yates's house (a trusty neighbour, who married his wife's sister), where he borrowed a blanket, which he folded and laid on the ground under a tree for his majesty to sit on. At the same time Richard spoke to the good-wife Yates to provide some victuals, and bring it into the wood at a place he appointed her. She presently made ready a mess of milk, and some butter and eggs, and brought them to his majesty in BOSCOBEL. 49J) the wood, wlio, being a little siirj)ri.seJ to see the woman (no good concealer of a secret), said cheerfully to her, ''(Jood woman, can you be faithful to a distressed cavalier?" 8he answered, " Yes, Sir, I will rather die than discover you." With which answer his majesty was well satisfied, and received from her hands, as David did from Abigail's, " that which she brought him." * The Lord Wilmot in the interim took John Pendercl for his guide, but knew not deterniinately whither to go, purposing at first to have marched northwards ; but as they passed by Brewood forge, the forgemen made after them, till being toM by one Rich. Duttou that it was Colonel Crompton whom they pursued, the Vulcans happily, upou that mistake, quilted the chase. Soon after they narrowly escaped a party of rebels as they passed by Coveubrook ; so that seeing danger on every side, and John meeting with William AValker (a trusty neighbour), committed my lord to his care and counsel, who for the pi'esent conveyed them into a dry marl-pit, where they staid a while, and afterwards to one Mr. Huntbache's house at Brinsford, and put their horses into John Evans's barn, whilst John Penderel goes to Wolverhampton to see what convenience he could find for my lord's coming thither, but met with none, the town being full of soldiers. Yet John leaves no means unessayed. hastens to JsTortlicot (an adjacent village), and there, whilst he was talking with good-wife Underbill (a neighbour), in the instant Mr. John Huddleston (a sojourner at Mr. Thomas Whitgreave's, of Moseley, and of John's acquaintance) was accidentally passing by, to whom John (well assured of his integrity) presently addresses himself and his business, relates to him the sad news of the defeat of his majest^^'s anny at Worcester, and dis- covers in what strait and confusion he had left his majesty and his followers at White Ladies, and in particular, that he had brought thence a person of quality (for John then knew not who my lord was; to Huntbache's house, who, without present relief, would be in great danger of being taken. Mr. Huddleston goes home forthwith, takes John with him, and acquaints Mr. AVhitgreavo with the business, who freely * 1 Sam. XXV. 35. 2 K 2 ,500 EOSCOBEL. resolved to venture all, rather than such a person should mis- cai'ry. Hereupon Mr. Whitgroave repairs to Huntbache's house, speaks with my lord, and gives direction how he should be privately conveyed into his house at Moseley, about ten of the clock at night ; and though it so fell out that the directions were not punctually observed, yet my lord and his man were at last brought into the house, where Mr. Whitgreave (after some refreshment given them), conveys them into a secret place, which my lord admiring for its excellent contrivance, and solicitous for his majesty's safety, said, " I would give a world my friend," meaning the king, " were here ; " and then (being abundantly satisfied of Mr. Whitgreave's fidelity) de- posited in his hands a little bag of jewels, which my lord re- ceived again at his departure. As soon as it was day, Mr. Whitgreave sent William ^\''alker with my lord's horses to his neighbour, Colonel John Lane, of Bentley, near Walsall, south-east from Moseley about four miles (whom Mr. Whitgreave knew to be a right honest gentleman, and ready to contribute any assistance to so charitable a work), and wished Walker to acquaint the colonel that they belonged to some eminent person about the king, wlijm he could better secure than the horses. The colonel willingly receives them, and sends word to Mr. Whit- greave to meet him that night in a close not far from Moseley, m order to the tender of farther service to the owner of the horses, whose name neither the colonel nor Mr. Whitgreave yet knew. On Thursday night, when it grew dark, his majesty re- solved to go from those parts into Wales, and to take Richard Penderel with him for his guide; but, before they began their 'ourney, his majesty went into Richard's house at Hobbal Grange, where the old good-wife Penderel had not only the honour to see his majesty, but to see him attended by her son Richard. Here his majesty had time and means better to complete his disguise. His name was agreed to be Will. Jones, and his arms a wood-bill. In this posture, about nine o'clock at night (after some refreshment taken in the house), his majesty, svith his trusty servant Richard, began their journey on foot, resolving to go that night to Madeley, in BOSCOBEL. 501 Shropslilre, aliout five miles from AVliite Ladies, and within a mile of the river ."Seveni, over wliich their way lay fur AV ales. In this village lived one Mr. Francis Woolf, an honest gen- tleman of Richard's acquaintance. His majesty had iiot been long gone, hut the Lord "VVilmot sent John Peuderel from ^Ir. Whitgreave's to AVhitc Ladies and Boscobel, to know in what security the king was. John returned and acijuainted my lord that his majesty wai marched from thence. Hereupon my lord began to consider which way himself should remove with safety. Colonel Lane having secured my lord's horses, and being come to Moseley, according to ap]>ointment, on Friday night, was brought up to my lord by Mr. Whitgreave, and (after mutual salutation) acquainted him that his sister, !Mrs. Jane Lane, had by accident procureil a pass from some commander of the rebels for herself and a man to go a little beyond Bris- tol, to see Mrs. Norton, her special friend, then near her time of lying in, and freely oflered, if his lordship thought fit, he might make use of it ; which my lord seemed inclinable to accept, and on Saturday night was conducted by Colonel Lane's man (himself not being well) to the colonel's house at Bentley ; his lordsliip then, and not before, discovering his name to Mr. Whitgreave, and giving him many thanks for so great a kindness in so imminent a danger. Before his majesty came to Matlelcy, he met with an ill- favoured encounter at Evelin Mill, being about two miles from thence. The miller (it seems) was an honest man, but his majesty and Richard knew it not, and had then in his house some considerable persons of his majesty's army, who took shelter there in their tlight from Worcester, and had not been long in the mill, so that the miller was upon his watch ; and Richard unhappily permitting a gate to clap, through which they passed, gave occasion to the miller to come out of the mill and boldly ask. " Who is there ? " Richard, thinking the miller had pursui;d them, quitted the usual way in some haste, and led his majesty over a little brook, which thev were forced to wade through, and which contributed nmch towards the galling his majesty's feet, who (as he afterwards pleasantly observed) was here in some danger of losing his guide, but that the rustling of Richard's calf-skin breeches was the 502 BOSCOBEL. best direction bis majesty had to follow liim in that dark niirht. Tliey arrived at Madeley about midnight ; Richard goes to Mr. Woolf's house, where they were all in bed, knocks them up, and acquaints Mr. Woolf's daughter (who came to the door) that the king was there, who presently received him into the house, where his majesty refreshed himself for some time; but understanding the rebels kept several guards upon Severn, and it being feared that some of their party (of which many frequently passed through the town) might quarter at the house (as had often happened), it was apprehended unsafe for his majesty to lodge in the house (which afforded no secret place for concealment), but rather to retire into a barn near ad- joining, as less liable to the danger of a surprise ; whither his majesty went accordingly, and continued in a hay-mow there all the day following, his servant Richard attending him. During his majesty's stay in the barn, Mr. Woolf had often conference with him about his intended journey, and in order thereto took care, by a trusty servant (sent abroad for that purpose), to inform himself more particularly of those guards upon Severn, and had certain word brought him, that not only the bridges were secured, but all the passage-boats seized on, insomuch that he conceived it very hazardous for his ma- jesty to prosecute his design for Wales, but rather go to Bos- cobel House, being the most retired place for concealment in all the country, and to stay there till an opportunity of a far- ther safe conveyance could be found out ; which advice his majesty inclined to approve, and thereupon resolved for Bos- cobel the night following. In the mean time, his hands not appearing sufficiently discoloured, suitable to his other dis- guise, Mrs. Woolf provided walnut-tree leaves, as the readiest expedient for that purj)ose. The day being over, his majesty adventured to come again into the house, where having for some time refreshed himself, and being furnished with conveniences for his journey (which was conceived to be safer on foot than by horse), he, with his faithful guide Richard, about eleven o'clock at night, set forth toward Boscobel. About three of the clock on Saturday morning, being come near the house, Richard left his majesty in the wood, whilst he BOSCUBEL. 5Uo went in to sec if any soldiers were there, or otlier danger ; where he found ('()h)ntd William Carlis (who had seen, not the last man liiirn, l>ut the last man killed, at Worcester), and who, havini,' witli iiiiich ditliridty made his escape fnun thence, was ;L'ot into his own nei;^'hbourliood, and for some time con- cealinlace wherein the Earl of Derby had been secured, which his majesty liked so well, that he resolved, whilst he staid there, to trust only 504 BOSCOBEL. to that, and go no more into the royal oak, as from hence it must be called, where he could not so much as sit at ease. His majesty now finding himself in a hopeful security, per- mitted William Penderel to shave him, and cut the hair off his head as short at top as the scissors would do it, but leav- ing some about the ears, according to the country mode ; Col. Carlis attending, told his majesty, " William was but a mean barber ;" to which his majesty answered, " He had never been shaved by any barber before." The king bade William burn the hair which he cut off; but William was only disobedient in that, for he kept a good part of it, wherewith he has since pleasured some persons of honour, and is kept as a civil relic. Humphrey Penderel was this Saturday designed to go to Shefnal, to pay some taxes to one Captain Broadway ; at whose house he met with a colonel of the rebels, who was newly come from Worcester in pursuit of the king, and who, being informed that his majesty had been at White Ladies, and that Humphrey was a near neighbour to the place, exa- mined him strictly, and laid before him, as well the penalty f(jr concealing the king, which was death without mercy, as the reward for discovering him, which should be one thousand pounds certain pay. But neither fear of punishment, nor hope of reward, was able to tempt Humphrey into any disloy- alty ; he pleaded ignorance, and was dismissed, and on Satur- day night related to his majesty and the loyal colonel at Boscobel what had passed betwixt him and the rebel colonel at Shefnal. This night the good-wife (whom his majesty was pleased to call "my dame Joan")provided some chickens for his ma- jesty's supper (a dainty he had not lately been acquainted with), and a little pallet was put into the secret place for his majesty to rest in ; some of the brothers being continually upon duty, watching the avenues of the house, and the road- way, to prevent the danger of a surprise. After supper. Col. Carlis asked his majesty what meat he would please to have provided for the morrow, being Sunday ; his majesty desired some mutton, if it might be had. But it was thought dangerous for William to go to any market to buy it, since his neighbours all knew he did not use to buy BOSCODEL. 505 such fur lii.-i own iliet, ami so it niii^'lit hcget a susjiicion of his havin;,' stranger*: at his house. liut the colonel found another expedient to satisfy bis majesty's desires. Early on Sunday morning he repairs to 31r. AVilliam Staunton's eheepcot, who rented some of the demesnes of liostMjhel ; here he chose one of the best sheep, sticks him with bis dagger, then sends ^\ illiam for the mutton, who brings him lH)mc on his back. On Sunday morning (September the 7th), his majesty got up early (his dormitory being none of the best, nor his bed the easiest), and, near the secret place where he lay, had the conv.'nience of a gallery to walk in, where he was observed to spend some time in his devotions, and where he had the advan- tage of a window, which surveyed the road from Tong to Brewood. Soon after his majesty coming down into the parlour, his nose fell a bleeding, which put his poor faithful servants into a great fright ; but his majesty was pleased soon to remove it, by telling them it often did so. As soon as the mutton was cold, "William cut it up and brought a leg of it into the j)arlour ; his majesty called fur a knife and a trencher, and cut some of it into collops, and pricked them with the knife point, then called for a frying- l)an and butter, and fried the collops himself, of which he ate heartily; Col. Carlis the while being but under-cook (and that honour enough too), made the fire, and turned the collops in the pan. "When the colonel afterwards attended his majesty in France, his majesty calling to remembrance this passage aniong others, was pleased merrily to propose it, as a problematical question, whether himself or the colonel were the master-cook at Bosco- bel, and the supremacy was of right adjudged to his majesty. Al! this while the other brothers of the Penderels were, in their several stations, either scouting abroad to learn intelii- gence, or upon some other service ; but it so pleased God, that, though the soldiers had some intelligence of his majes- ty's having been at AVhite Ladies, and none that he was gone thence, yet this hoube (which i>roved a hap])y sanctuary for his majesty in this sad exigent) had not at all been searched during his majesty's abode there, though that had several times; this, perhaps, the rather escai)ing, because the neiirh- bours could truly inform none but poor servants lived here. 506 BOSCOBEL. His majesty spent some part of this Lord's day in reading, in a pretty arbour in Boscobel garden, which grew upon a mount, and wherein there was a stone table, and seats about it, and commended the place for its retiredness. And having understood by John Penderel that the Lord Wilmot was at Mr. Whitgreave's house (for John knew not of his remove to Bentley), his majesty was desirous to let my lord hear of him, and that he intended to come to Moseley that night. To this end, John was sent on Sunday morning to Moseley, but, finding my lord removed thence, was much troubled ; and then acquainting Mr. Whitgreave and Mr. Huddleston that his majesty was returned to Boscobel, and the disaccommoda- tion he had there, whereupon they both resolve to go with John to Bentley, where having gained him an access to my lord, his lordship designed to attend the king that night at Moseley, and desired Mr. Whitgreave to meet his lordship at a place appointed about twelve of the clock, and Mr. Hud- dleston to nominate a place where he would attend his majesty about one of the clock the same night. Upon this intelligence, my lord made stay of Mrs. Jane Lane's journey to Bristol, till his majesty's pleasure was known. John Penderel returned to Boscobel in the afternoon, with intimation of this designed meeting with my lord at Moseley that night, and the place which was appointed by Mr. Hud- dleston where his majesty should be expected. But his majesty, having not recovered his late foot journey to Madeley, was not able without a horse to perform this to Moseley, which was about five miles distant from Boscobel, and near the mid- way from thence to Bentley. It was therefore concluded that his majesty should ride upon Humphrey Penderel's mill-horse (for Humphrey was the miller of White Ladies mill). The horse was taken up from grass, and accoutred, not with rich trappings or furniture, befitting so great a king, but with a pitiful old saddle, and a worse bridle. When his majesty was ready to take horse. Colonel Carlia humbly took leave of him, being so well known in the country, that his attendance upon his majesty would in all probability BOSCOBEL. /iO? have provoil ratlicr a disserviro tli.in otherwise ; however, his hearty prajera were not wanting' for his) majesty's pre- servation. Thus then his majesty was mounted, and thus lie rode towards Moseley, attended by all the honest brothers, William, John, Itichard, Humphrey, and George Penderel, and Francis Yates; each of these took a bill or pike-staff on his back, and some of them had pistols in their pockets ; two marched before, and one on each side his majesty's horse, and two came behind aloof off; their design being this, that in case they should hfive been questioned or encountered but l)y five or six troopers, or such like small party, they would have shewn their valour in defending, as well as they had done their fidelity in otherwise serving his majesty; and though it was midnight, yet they conducted his majesty through by-ways, for better security. After some experience had of the horse, his majesty com- plained, " it was the heaviest dull jade he ever rode on ; " to which Humphrey (the owner of him) answereing on foot from the place where hi.«j majesty alighted to the house, was rolled betwixt his stockings and his skin, and served to increase rather than assuage the soreness of his feet. Mr. Whitgreave had by this time brought up some biscuit and a bottle of sack ; his majesty ate of the one, and drank a good glass of the other ; and, being thus refreshed, was pleaseil to say cheerfully, "I am now ready for another inarch ; and if it shall please God once more to place me at the head of but eight or ten thousand good men, of one mind and resolved to fight, I shall not doubt to drive these rogues out of my kingdoms." It was now break of the day on ^londay morning, the 8th of September, and his majesty was desirous to take some rest ; to which purpose a pallet was carried into one of the secret places, where his majesty lay down, but rested not so well as his host desired, for the place was close and inconve- nient, and durst not adventure to put liini into any bed in an open chamber, for fear of a surprise by the rebels. After some rest taken in the hole, his majesty got up, and was pleased to take notice of aiid salute IMr. Whitgreave's mother, and (having his place of retreat still ready) sat between whiles in a closet over the porch, where he might see tliose that passed the road by the house. Before the Lord "NVilniot betook himself to his dormitory, he conferred with Mr. Wliitgreave. and advised that himself or jMr. Iluddleston would be always vigilant about the house, and give notice if any soldiers came ; '^ and," says this noble lord, " if it should so fall out that the rebels have intelligence of your harbouring any of the king's party, and should therefore put you to any torture for confession, be sure you discover me first, which may haply in such case satisfy them, and preserve the king." This was the expression and cure of a loyal subject, worthy eternal memory. On Monday, his majesty and my lord resolved to despatch -John Penderel to Colonel Lane at Bentley, with directions for the colonel to send my lord's horses for him that night 510 BOSCOBEL. about midniglit, and to expect him at the usual place. My lord accordingly goes to Bentley again, to make way for his majesty's reception there, pursuant to a resolution taken up by his majesty to go westward, under the protection of Mrs. Jane Lane's pass ; it being most probable that the rebels wholly pursued his majesty northwards, and would not at all suspect him gone into the west. This Monday afternoon, Mr. Whitgreave had notice that some soldiers were in the neighbourhood, intending to appre- hend him, upon information that he had been at Worcester fight. The king was then lain down upon Mr. Huddleston's bed, but Mr. Whitgreave presently secures his royal guest in the secret place, and my lord also, leaves open all the chamber doors, and goes boldly down to the soldiers, assuring them (as his neighbours also testified) that he had not been from home in a fortnight then last past ; with which asseveration the soldiers were satisfied, and came not up stairs at all. In this interval the rebels had taken a cornet in Cheshire, who came in his majesty's troop to White Ladies, and either by menaces, or some other way, had extorted this confession from him concerning the king (whom these bloodhounds sought with all possible diligence), that he came in company with his majesty to White Ladies, where the rebels had no small hopes to find him; whereupon they posted thither without ever drawing bit, almost killed their horses, and brought their faint-hearted prisoners with them. Being come to White Ladies on Tuesday, they called for Mr. George GifFard, who lived in an apartment of the house, presented a pistol to his breast, and bade him confess where the king was, or he should presently die. Mr. Gifiard was too loyal, and too much a gentleman, to be frighted into any infidelity, resolutely denies the knowing any more but that divers cavaliers came thither on Wednesday night, ate up their provision, and departed; and that he was as ignorant who they were, as wlieuce they came, or whither they went ; and begged, if he must die, that they would first give him leave to say a few prayers. One of these villains answered, " If you can tell us no news of the king you shall say no prayers." But his discreet answer did somewhat assuage the fury of their leader. They used the like threats and violence noscoBEL. :'>\ I (mingled, notwitshanding, ^vith lii-li promises of reward) to Mrs. Anne Andrew (to whose custody some of the king's clothes, when ho first took upon him tlio disguise, were com- mitted), who (like a true virago) faithfully sustained the one, and loyally rofusct, and at last beat the intelligencer severely ftJr making them lose their labours. During this Tuesday, in my Lord AVilmot's absence, his majesty was for the most ])art attended by ^Ir. Iluildlcston, ]\[r. "Whitjrreave beinir much abroad in the iieiglibourhood, and ]\Irs. Whitgreave below stairs, both incjuisitive after news, and the motions of the soldiery, in order to the preservation of their royal guest. The old gentlewoman was this day told by a countrjTiian, who came to her house, that he heard the king, upon his retreat, had beaten his enemies at Warrington Bridge, and that there were three kings come in to his assist- ance; which story she related to his majesty for divertisement, who smiling, answered, " Surely, they are the three kings of Cologne come down from heaven, for I can imagine none else." The same day his majesty out of the closet window esj>ied two soldiers, who passed by the gate in the road, and told ^Ir. Huddleston he knew one of them to be a Highlander, and of his own regiment ; who little thought his king and colonel to be so near. And his majesty, for entertainment of the time, was ])leased to discourse with ]\Ir. Huddleston the particulars of the battle of Worcester (the same in substance with what is before re- lated) ; and by some words which his majesty let fall, it might easily be collected that his counsels had been too often sooner discovered to the rebels than executed by his loyal subjects. Mr. ITuddloston had under his charge young Sir John Preston, ]Mr. Thomas Playn, and :\[r. Francis Reynolds ; and on this Tuesday in the morning (the better to conceal his majesty's being in the house, and excuse his own more than usual long stay above stairs) pretended himself to be indis- posed and afraid of the soldiers, and therefore set his scholars at several garret windows, and surveyed the roads, to watch 512 BOSCOBEL. and give notice when they saw any troopers coniina:. This service the youths performed very diligently all day; and at night when they were at supper, Sir John called upon his companions, and said (more truly than he imagined), " Come, lads, let us eat lustily, for we have been upon the life-guard to-day." This very day (September the 9th) the rebels at Westmin- ster (in further puisuance of their bloody designs) set forth a proclamation for the discovery and apprehending Charles Stuart (for so their frontless impudence usually styled his sa- cred majesty), his adherents and abetters, with promise of 1,000/. reward to whomsoever should apprehend him (so vile a price they set upon so inestimable a jewel) ; and, besides, gave strict command to all officers of port towns, that they should pernut no person to pass beyond sea without special license. " And Saul sought David every day; but God deli- vered him not into his hands."* On Tuesday night, between twelve and one o'clock, the Lord Wilmot sent Colonel Lane to attend his majesty to Bentley ; Mr. Whitgreave meets the colonel at the place appointed, and brings him to the corner of his orchard, where the colonel thought fit to stay whilst Mr. Whitgreave goes in and acquaints the king that he was come ; whereupon his majesty took his leave of Mrs. Whitgreave, saluted her, and gave her many thanks for his entertainment, but was pleased to be more particular with Mr. Whitgreave and Mr. Huddle- ston, not only by giving them thanks, but by telling them he was very sensible of the dangers they might incur by enter- taining him, if it should chance to be discovered to the rebels ; therefore his majesty advised them to be very careful of them- selves, and gave them direction to repair to a merchant in London, who should have order to furnish them v.'ith moneys and means of conveyance beyond sea, if they thought fit. After his majesty had vouchsafed these gracious expres- sions to Mr. Whitgreave and Mr. Huddleston, they told his majesty all the service they could now do him was to pray heartily to Almighty God for his safety and preservation ; and then kneeling down, his majesty gave them his hand to kiss, and so went down stairs with them into the archard. * 1 Sam. xxiii. 14. BOSCOUKL. 5 1 'i where Mr. Whitgreave both humbly ami faithfully delivered hid great charge into Col. Lane's hands, telling the colonel who the jier.-iun was he there presented to liim. The night was both dark and culd, and his majesty's cloth- ing thin ; therefore Mr. lluddleston humbly otlered hi& ma- jesty a cloak, which he was pleased to accept, and wore to Bentley, from whence Mr. lluddleston afterwards re- ceived it. As soon asIMr. Whitgreave and Jlr. lluddleston heard his majesty was not only got safe to Bentley, but marched sr- curely from thence, they began to reflect ujicn his advice, and lest any discovery should be made of what had been acted at Jloseley, they both absented themselves from home ; the one went to London, the other to a friend's house in Warwick- shire, where they lived j^rivately till such time as tliey heard his majesty was safely arrived in France, and that no part of the aforesaid transactions at Moseley had been discovered to the rebels, and then returned home. This Mr. Whitgreave was descended of the ancient family of the AV'hitgreaves of Burton, in the county of Stafford, and was first a cornet, afterwards lieutenant to Captain Thomas (litfard, in the first war for his Majesty King Charles the First. Mr. John Ilmldleston was a younger brother of the re- nowned family of the house of Ilutton-John, in the county of Cumbcrlaml, and was a gentleman volunteer in his late ma- jesty's service, first under Sir John Preston the elder, till Sir John was rendered unserviceable by the desperate wounds he recciveoii of uiijjrovea valour, and engaged all along in the first war for King Charles I., of happy memory, and since his death was no less active for his royal son ; for which, and Iiis particular service and fidelity before mentioned, his majesty was pleased, by letters patent under the great seal of Eng- land, to give him, by the name of William Carlos (which in (Spanish signifies Charles), a very honourable coat of arms, in perpetuaia rei meinuriain, as 'tis exjnessed iu the letters patent. « The oak is now properly called " The Royal Oak of Bos- cobcl," nor will it lose that name whilst it continues a tree, nor that tree a memory whilst we have an inn left in Englany Henry Peters) should the next day be sent to Salisbury to ]\Ir. John Coventry (son to the late Lonl Coventry, lord keeper of the great seal of England), who then lived in the close of that city, and wae known to be both a prudent person and a perfect lover of his sovereign, as well to advise how to procure a bark for passing his majesty into France, as for j)rovi(ling some moneys for his present necessary occasions. My lord, being arrived at Salisbury, despatched Henry Peters back to Trent, with intimation of the good reception he found there; for Mr. Coventry did not only furnish him with moneys, but was very solicitous for his majesty's safety ; to which end he advised with Dr. Humphrey Henchman, a worthy divine, who, since his majesty's happy restoration, was with much merit advanced to the episcopal see of Salisbury. The result of these two loyal persons' consultation M-as, that his majesty should be desired to remove to Hele (which lay about three miles north-east of Salisbury), the dwelling- house of Mrs. Mary Hyde, the relict of Laurence Hyde, Esq., eldest brother to Hon. Sir Robert Hyde, one of the justices of his majesty's Court uf Common Pleas, whom they knew to be both as discreet and as loyal as any of her sex. With this resolution and advice, ^Ir. Coventry despatched his chaplain, Mr. John Selleck, to Trent with a letter, rolled up into the bigness of a musket bullet, which the faithful messenger had order to swallow down his throat in case of any danger. Meantime Mr. Coventry had found out a trusty seaman at Southampton, who undertook to transport whom he plea.sed ; but on second thoughts and advice had with my Lord Wil- mot, it was not held safe for his majesty to take shipping there, in regard of the so many castles by which the ships pass that are outward-bound, and the often examination of the passengers in them ; so that some of the small ])orts of Sussex were concluded to be the safer places for effecting this great work of bis majesty's delivery from the hands of such 528 BOSCOBKL. unparalleled rebels, who even ravenously tliirsted after royal blood. In the interim Mr. Selleck returned with his majesty's re- solution to come to Hele, signified by a like paper bullet ; and by this time his majesty thought fit to admit of the ser- vice and assistance of Colonel Robert Philips (grandson to the famed Sir Edward Philips, late Master of the Rolls), who lived in those parts, and was well acquainted with the ways of the country, and known to be as faithful as loyalty could make him. This colonel undertook to be his majesty's con- ductor to Hele, which was near thirty miles distant from Trent. During his majesty's stay at Trent (which was about a fortnight), he was, for his own security, forced to confine him- self to the voluntary imprisonment of his chamber, which was happily accommodated (in case the rebels had searched the house) with an old well-contrived secret place, long before made (for a shelter against the inquisition of pursuivants) by some of the ancient family of the Gerhards, Colonel Wynd- ham's lady's ancestors, who were recusants, and had formerly been owners of that house. His ma-jesty's meat was likewise (to prevent the danger of a discovery) for the most part dressed in his own chamber, the cookery whereof served him for some divertisement of the time ; and it is a great truth if we say, there was no cost spared, nor care wanting in the colonel, for the entertain- ment and preservation of his royal guest. On the 3rd of October, his majesty (having given Colonel Wyndham particular thanks for his great care and fidelity towards him) left Trent, and began his journey with Colonel Philips, and personating a tenant's sou of his, towards Hele, attended by Henry Peters (afterwards yeoman of the field to his majesty), and riding before Mrs. Coningsby. The tra- vellers passed by "VVincanton, and near the midst of that day's journey arrived at Mere, a little market- town in Wiltshire, and dined at the George Inn ; the host, Mr. Christopher Philips, whom the colonel knew to be perfectly honest. The host sat at the table with his majesty, and administered matters of discourse, told the colonel, for news, that he heard the men of Westminster (meaning the rebels), notwithstanding their victory at Worcester, were in a great maze, not knowing BOSCODEL. 520 what was become of the king ; but (says he) it is the most received opinion that he is come in a disji,'uise to London, and nianv houses have been searched for him there : at which his majesty was observed to smue. After dinner, mine host familiarly asked the king " if he were a friend to Caisar?" to which his majesty answered, " Yes." " Then," said he, "here's a health to King Charles," in a glass of wine, which his niajesty and the colonel both pledged ; and that evening arrived in safety at Ilele. And his majesty, since his happy return, has been pleased to ask, " What was become of his honest host at Mere V In the mean time the Lord Wilmot (who took up the bor- rowed name of Mr. Barlow) rode to such gentlemen of his acquaintance in Hampshire, whom he knew to be faithful subjects, to seek means for (what he so much desired) the transportation of his majesty ; and first repaired to ]\Ir. Lau- rence Hyde (a name as faithful as fortunate in his majesty's service), at his house at Hinton d'Aubigny, near Catha- rington, then to Mr. Thomas Henslow, at Burhant, in the same county, to whom (as persons of known fidelity) my lord communicated his weighty business, and desired their assist- ance for procuring a bark for his majesty's transportation. Mr. Henslow (in zeal to this service) immediately ac- quainted the Earl of Southampton (then at his house at Titch- field, and afterwards with much merit dignified with the fjrcat office of lord high treasurer of England) with this most im- portant affair, my Lord Wilmot judging it fitter for Mr. Henslow (his neighbour) to do it, than for himself, in those circumstances, to appear at my lord's house, whose eminent fidelity and singular prudence, in the conduct of even the greatest affairs of state, being known both to them and all the world, and his great power and ciJinmand at Bewly Haven, and the maritime parts of Hampshire, esteemed very favourable for their design, wherein his lordship was extremely active and solicitous. Besides this, Sir. Laurence Hyde recommended my Lord Wilmot to Colonel George Gunter, who lived at Kackton, near Chichester, in Sussex, and was known to be both faith- ful and active, not unlike to bo successful in this service, to whom therefore my lord hasted, and lay at Rackton one night, 2 M CtPiO BOSCOBEL. where he imparted his great solicitation to the colonel and his kinsman, Mr. Thomas Gunter, who was then accidentally there. All these persons had the like instructions from my lord, which made a deep impression on their loyal hearts, and ex- cited them to use their utmost endeavours by several ways and means to procure the Noah's ark, which might at last secure his majesty from the great inundation of rebellion and treason which then did overspread the face of his whole dominions. But to return to my humble observance of his majesty at Hele, where Mrs. Hyde was so transported with joy and loyalty towards him, that at supper, though his majesty was set at the lower end of the table, yet the good gentlewoman had much ado to overcome herself, and not to carve to him first ; however, she could not refrain from drinking to him in a glass of wine, and giving him two larks, when others had but one. After supper, Mr. Frederick Hyde (brother-in-law to the widow, who was then at Hele, and since created serjeant-at law) discoursed with his majesty upon various subjects, not suspecting who he was, but wondered to receive such rational discourse from a person whose habit spoke him but of mean degree ; and when his majesty was brought to his chamber, Dr. Henchman attended him there, and had a long and pri- vate communication with him. Next day it was thought fit, to prevent the danger of any discovery, or even suspicion in the house, that in regard his majesty might possibly stay there some days before the con- veniency of a transportation could be found out, he should that day publicly take his leave, and ride about two miles from the house, and then be privately brought in again the same evening, when all the servants were at supper ; which was accordingly performed, and after that time his majesty ap- peared no more at Hele in public, but had meat brought him privately to his chamber, and was attended by the good widow, with much care and observance. Now, among the many faithful solicitors for this long- expected bark. Colonel Gunter happened to be the lucky man who first procured it, at Brighthelmstone, in Sussex, by BOSCODEL. j.J 1 the assistance of Mr. Francis ]\Iansel, merchant, of Cliiches- ter, and tlie concurrent endeavours of jNIr. Thomas Gunter ; aiid on Saturday iiJLdit, tlio lltli of Octoher, he hroii;fht the liai)i)y tidini;s to my Lord ^^'ilmot and Colonel ^hilijl^^, wiio then lay, the one at Mr. Laurence Hyde's, the other at Mr. Anthony Brown's house, his nciifhhour and tenant. The next morning, heing Sunday, Colonel Philips was despatched to Ilcle, with the much-desired news, ami with instructions to attend his majesty on INIonday to the Downs, called Old Winchester, near "Warnford. Early in the morning his majesty was privately conveyed from Hele, and went on foot at least two miles to Clarendr.n Park Corner, attended by Dr. Henchman, then took horse with Colonel Philips ; and at the appointed time and place, the Lord Wilmot, Colonel Gunter, and Mr. Thomas Gunter, met his majesty, with a brace of greyhounds, the better to carry on the disguise. That night, though both Mr. Laurence Hyde and Mr. Henslow had each of them provided a secure lodging for his majesty, by the Lord "Wilmot's order, yet it was judged fittest by Colonel Gunter, and accordingly agreed unto by my lord, that his majesty should lodge at Mr. Thomas Symons's house at Hambledon, in Hampshire, who married the colonel's sis- ter, in regard the colonel knew them to be very faithful, but chiefly because it lay more directly in the way from Hele to Brighthelmstone ; and accordingly Colonel Gunter attended his majesty to his sister's house that night, who provided a good supper for them, though she had not the least suspicion or intimation of his majesty's presence among them. The king and his small retinue arriving in safety at Mrs. Symons's house, on ]\Ionday night, the 1 3th of October, were heartily welcomed by Mrs. Symons, for her husband was not then at home ; but by that time they had supped, in comes Mr, Symons, who wondering to see so many strangers in his house, was assured by his brother Gunter that they were all honest gentlemen ; yet, at first interview, he much suspected Mr. Jackson to be a roundhead, observing how little hair William Penderel's scissors had left him ; but at last being fully satisfied they were all cavaliers, he soon laid open his heart, and thought nothing too good for them, was sorry his 2 m 2 532 BOSCOBEL. beer was no stronger, and, to encourage it, fetclied down a bottle of strong water, and mixing it with the beer, drank a cheerful cup to Mr. Jackson, calling him, "brother round- head," whom his majesty pledged ; who was here observed to be clothed in a short juppa, of a sad-coloured cloth, and his breeches of another species, with a black hat, and without cuffs, somewhat like the meaner sort of country gentlemen. Mr. Symons, in the time of entertaining his guests, did by chance let fall an oath, for which Mr. Jackson took occasion modestly to reprove him. His majesty, thus resting himself Monday night at Hamble- don, early on Tuesday morning (October the 14th) prepared for his journey to Brighthelrastone, distant about thirty-five miles from thence. But having then no further use for Colo- nel Philips, dismissed him, with thanks for his fidelity and service, in this most secret and important afi"air ; and then, having also bidden farewell to Mr. Symons and his wife, took horse, attended by my Lord Wilmot and Lis man, Colonel Gunter, and Mr. Thomas Gunter. When they came near the Lord Lumley's house, at San- stead, in Sussex, it was considered that the greatness of the number of horse might possibly raise some suspicion of them : Mr. Thomas Gunter was therefore dismissed, with thanks for the service he had done, and his majesty held on his journey without any stay ; and being come to Bramber, within seven miles of the desired port, met there some of Colonel Herbert Morley's soldiers, who yet did neither examine, nor had they, as far as could be discerned, the least suspicion of the royal passengers, who arrived at last at the George Inn, in Bright- helmstone, where Mr. Francis Mansel, who assisted Colonel Gunter in this happy service, had agreed to meet him. At supper, Mr. Mansel sat at the upper end of the table, and Mr. Jackson (for that name his majesty still retained) at the lower end. The innkeeper's name was Smith, and had formerly related to the court, so that he suspected Mr. Jack- son to be whom he really was ; which his majesty understand- ing, he discoursed with his host after supper, whereby his loy- alty was confirmed, and the man proved faithful. The next morning, being Wednesday, October the 15th (the same day on which the noble Earl of Derby became a royal BOSCOBKL. 533 martyr at Buulton), his majesty, liaving given particular thanks to Colonel Gunter for his great care, pains, and fide- lity towards liim, took sliipping with the Lord "VVilmot, in the bark which lay i" readiness fcr him at that liarhour, and whereof Mr. Nicholas Totersal was owner ; and the next day, with an auspicious gale of wind, landed safely at Fecamp, near Havre do Grace, in Normandy; wliere his majesty might haj)pily say with David, " Tliuu hast delivered me from the violent man ; therefore will I sing praises to thy name, O Lord." This very hark, after his majesty's happy restoration, was by Captain Tetersal brought into the river Thames, and lay some months at anchor before Whitehall, to renew the memory of the happy service it hud performed. His majesty, having nobly rewarded Captain Tetersal in gold for his transportation, lodged this night at an inn in Fe- camp, and the next day rode to Rouen, still attended by the faithful Lord Wilmot, where he continued, incognito, several days at 3Ir. Scot's house, since created baronet, till he had sent an express to the queen, his royal mother, who had been long solicitous to hear of his safety, and the court of France, intimating his safe arrival there, and had quitted his dis- guised habit for one more befitting the dignity of so great a Upon the first intelligence of this welcome news, his high- ness the Duke of York sent his coach forthwith to attend his majesty at Rouen, and the Lord Gerard, with others his ma- jesty's servants, made all possible haste, with glad hearts, to perform their duty to him ; so that on the 29th of October, his majesty set forward towards Paris, lay that night at Fleury, about seven leagues from Rouen ; the next morning his royal brother, the Duke of York, was ready to receive him at Mag- nie, and that evening his majesty was met at Mouceaux, a village near Paris, by the Queen of England, accompanied with her brother, the Duke of Orleans, and attended by a great number of coaches, and many both English and French lords and gentlemen on horseback, and was thus gladly con- ducted the same night, though somewhat late, to the Louvre, at Paris to the inexpressible joy of his dear mother the 534 BOSCOBEL. queen, his royal brother the Duke of York, and of all true hearts. Here we must again, with greater reason, humbly contem- plate the admirable providence of Almighty God, which cer- tainly never appeared more miraculously than in this strange deliverance of his majesty from such an infinity of dangers, that history itself cannot produce a parallel, nor will posterity willingly believe it. From the 3rd of September, at Worcester, to the 1 5th of Oc- tober, at Brighthelmstone, being one-and-forty days, he passed through more dangers than he travelled miles, of which yet he traversed in that time only near three hundred (not to speak of his dangers at sea, both at his coming into Scotland, and his going out of England, nor of his long march from Scotland to Worcester), sometimes on foot with uneasy shoes; at other times on horseback, encumbered with a portmanteau ; and which was worse, at another time on the gall-backed, slow- paced miller's horse ; sometimes acting one disguise in coarse linen and a leather doublet, sometimes another of almost as bad a complexion ; one day he is forced to skulk in a barn at Madeley, another day sits with Colonel Carlos in a tree, with his feet extremely galled, and at night glad to lodge with Wil- liam Penderel in a secret place at Boscobel, which never was intended for the dormitory of a king. Sometimes he was forced to shift with coarse fare for a bel- lyful ; another time in a wood, glad to relieve the necessities of nature with a mess of milk, served up in a homely dish by good-wife Yates, a poor country-woman ; then again, for a variety of tribulation, when he thought himself almost out of danger, he directly meets some of those rebels who so greedily sought his blood, yet, by God's great providence, had not the power to discover him ; and (which is more than has yet been mentioned) he sent at another time to some subjects for relief and assistance in his great necessity, who, out of a pusillani- mous fear of the bloody arch-rebel then reigning, durst not own him. Besides all this, 'twas not the least of his afflictions daily to hear the Earl of Derby, and other his loyal subjects, some murdered, some imprisoned, and others sequestered in heaps, BG3C0BEL. FiS'i by the same Moody usurper, only for performing tlicir duty to their hiwful king. In a word, there M'as no kind of nii.^ «J 11 X V JUJ.VV7X X. M. V^X VjnJLjXX V^XVXI XZ^ Santa Barbara College Library Santa Barbara, California Return to desk from which borrowed. -^^ / This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. APRa 20ni-8,'54(6472s4)476 13. KEIGHTLEYS FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. NEW EDITION, ENLARGED BY THE Author. One VoL Frontispiece by Grorye Cniits/iank. Also, uniform with the Stanuaiiu Libkaev, price &s., BOHN'S ECCLESIASTICAL LIBBARY. igl 1. EUSEBIUS' ECCLESIAStlCAL HISTORY, CAREFULLY TRANSLATED FROM ^C-- the Greek, «ilh illustrative Kotes. CC^i^'- II II II II AA 000 317 786 2 ^ Alio, It. (tietpl Tkueyd'idfl, ^Ri'/y/ii-f, V'n i'!. It ruef, an ! Cicra, ir'iir* an 3j. id. feh)^ I BOHN S CLASSICAL LIBRARY. I \ 2 at3. THUCYDIDES. BY THE REV. H. DALE. IN 2 VOLS. (Si. «J. cacln g : 4. PLATOS WORKS BY GARY. VOL. 1, CONTAINING THE APOLOGY OF SO i I cnilcs. Crilo, I'Im'do, Gor^'ias, I'rotiigotas, I'liirilru*. TliculcUi!. Kiithv jiluoii, l,j»i«. i^. 5. LIVYS HISTORY OF ROME. 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