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 Edom, and the Holy Land. JSew Juuuon. 
 enlarged. Thirty-six beautiful Engrav- 
 ings, and 2 Maps. 
 Lodge's Portraits of Illustrious Per* 
 
 souages of Great Britain, with JVlemoivo. 
 TVM Hundred and forty Portraits, btau- 
 tifutty engramd on Steel, 8 vole.,
 
 BOHN'S EXTRA VOLUME. 
 
 COUNT GEAMMONT'S MEMOIKS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 COURT OF CHARLES THE SECOND, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE BOSCOBEL NARRATIVES.
 
 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 worlj, 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 ol 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.
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 OP THE 
 
 COURT OF CHARLES folE SECOND, 
 
 BY 
 
 COUNT GEAMMONT, 
 
 WITH NUMEROUS ADDITIONS AND ILLUSTRATIONS, AS EDITED BY 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 ALSO : 
 
 THE PERSONAX. HISTORY OF CKARX.ES, 
 
 THE KING'S OWN ACCOUNT OF HIS ESCAPE AND PRESERVATION 
 AFTER THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER, AS DICTATED TO PEPTS. 
 
 THE BOSCOSSXi TRACTS; 
 
 OR, CONTEMPORARY NARRATIVES OF HIS MAJESTY'S ADVENTURES, 
 FROM THE MURDER OF HIS FATHER TO THE RESTORATION. 
 
 CAREFULLY EDITED, 
 WITH ADDITIONAL ILU'STKATIONS. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, CO VENT GARDEN, 
 
 1859.
 
 
 10 YJXOT8XK 
 
 TO A. JIX >I!ZQOO3OS tZUX 
 

 
 SfacK 
 Annex 
 
 HH1 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THE justly acquired popularity of the MEMOIRS OF 
 COUNT GRAMMONT, " which paint the chief characters 
 of the court of Charles the Second with an easy and 
 exquisite pencil, 11 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 CHARLES 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 
 Dalrymple, 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 JT, P 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 other shape, be procured for twenty times its pre- 
 sent price. 
 
 H. G. B. 
 
 YORK STREET, June 1, 1846.
 
 A 
 BIOGEAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 OP 
 
 ANTHONY HAMILTON, 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 
 THE GRAMMONT MEMOIRS.
 
 A 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 OF Anthony Hamilton, the celebrated author of the Grain- 
 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 which 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 
 aud 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 son of James. 
 
 * For uniformity's sake, the writer of this sketch has followed the Me- 
 moirs in the spelling of this name ; but he thinks it necessary to observe, 
 that it should be Gratnont, not Grammont. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OP 
 
 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 
 Ormoud, near Caen, in Normandy, t 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, 1646, Owen O'Neale took Roscrea, and, as Carte s-iys, 
 " put man, woman, and child to the sword, except Sir George Hamilton' n 
 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, 1680, 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 was born 
 at Caen, in his Catalogue des Ecrivains du Siecle de Louis XIV.
 
 ANTHONY HAMILTON. 5 
 
 the greatest respect for her. The Marchioness resided in 
 Ireland, 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 gens-d'armes into France, in 1667, 
 according to Le Pere 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 
 XIV. 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-lieutenaut.t Whether 
 Anthony belonged to this corps, I know not ; but this is cer- 
 
 ' That historian states, that the king (Charles I.) deprived several 
 v.'.,' of iheir military commissions, and, among others, Sir George 
 Hamilton, who, notwithstanding, served him with loyalty and unvarying 
 fidelity. 
 
 f They were composed of English, Scotch, and Irish.
 
 6 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF 
 
 lain, that he distinguished himself particularly in his profession, 
 ;md 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-colone 1 ! 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 ting, 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 
 iis 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, 16SG, wrote to the Earl of Sun- 
 crland 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 Maryborough, served under Marshal Turenne, in the same 
 _rmy. 
 
 f 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, ancestor to the present Sir Edward O'Brien 
 a branch of the Thomond family.
 
 7 
 
 mnnd as colonel, though he is but lieutenant-colonel to Sir 
 
 mas Newcomen, in regard of the commands he has . 
 abroad : and I am told it is often done in France, which 
 ;es me hope it will not be counted 'an unreasonable 
 test. I would likewise humbly recommend to make Colo- 
 Anthony Hamilton a privy counsellor here."* Lord 
 Clarendon's recommendations were ultimately successful : 
 Hamilton was made a privy counsellor in Ireland, and had a 
 I'cnsion of 2007. 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, thongh 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 thf 
 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.''! 
 
 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, Julyll, 1686. 
 
 t Dublin Castle, October 23, 1686.
 
 8 BIOGRAPHICAL 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 affairs 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 have 
 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 ^o Coulanges calls him.
 
 ANTHONY HAMILTON. 
 
 Lord Clare;* Henrietta, and Laura. They all occupy a 
 considerable space in Hamilton's correspondence, and the two 
 Jast 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, of course, have militated against 
 every rule of common prudence. To the influence of this lady, 
 particularly, we are indebted for one or two of Hamilton's 
 ngreeable 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 Facardins, and, more especially, 
 La Fleur d' Epine. 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 Seller, 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 do Grammont said, in 
 
 * (O'Brien) ancestor to Marshal Thomond. Lord Clare was killed 
 at the battle of Ramillies. 
 
 f They were wretched imitations of some of the Persian and Arabian tales, 
 in which every thing was distorted, and rendered absurd and preposterous. 
 
 J " Le bel air de la cour est d'aller a la jolie maison, que le roi a donnee 
 a la Comtesse de Gramont dansle Pare de Versailles. C'est tellement la. 
 mode, que c'est une honte de n'y avoir pas etc. La Comtesse de Gra- 
 mont se porte tivs-bien ; il est certain que le roi la traite a merveilles.
 
 10 BIOGUAPDICAL SKETCH OF 
 
 his usual way, he 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 MouUneau, into that of Pentalie; 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 
 collecting the memoirs of his brother-in-law, the Count de 
 Gramrnont, as we may conjecture, from the epistle beginning 
 "Honneurdes rives e'loigne'es"* being written towards the 
 close of the above year : it is dated, or supposed to be so, from 
 the banks of the Garonne. 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 efface 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.
 
 ANTHONY HAMILTON. 11 
 
 subject of the epistle to Grammont, by La Chapelle, who also 
 seemed desirous that his life should be given to the public, hut 
 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 opportunity, as he thought, of disco- 
 vering a resemblance between Horace and Hamilton, in which 
 he equally failed. Petronius 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. (He was 
 at this time about eighty- five years of age.) It may well be 
 supposed that all this, though now perfectly rapid 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. Hamilton, 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 one. 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 15
 
 12 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF 
 
 Grammont extolled in the Memoirs, with a variety of other 
 encomiastic expressions ; although, perhaps, such vanity 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 hi* 
 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, svas lu.s 
 cousin-german.* But, although the history altogether was 
 
 * She was born at the castle of Kilkenny, July, 1640, as appears from 
 Carte's life of her father, the Duke of Ormond.
 
 ANTHONY HAMILTON. ] 3 
 
 written by Hamilton, it may not perhaps be known 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 draM 7 n them in pretty strong colours, 
 in that part of the work which is more particularly his own. 
 He laughed at poor Fontenelle'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 Memoirs 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, had lived from his youth, 
 not only in the best society of France, but with the most sin- 
 gular and agreeable man that France could produce. Still,
 
 14 BIOGKAPHICAL SKETCH OP 
 
 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 Voltaire, 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 ha ; 
 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 Correspondence. 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 few were
 
 ANTHONY HAMILTON. 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 Stafford (in whose name he carried on a lively correspond- 
 ence with Lady Mary Wortley Montague), he 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 
 I'Usage 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 about 
 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 arine d'un trait qui blesse, 
 Medisoit de 1'humaine espece, 
 Et meme d'un peu micux, 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 bis own opinions, must retrain 
 doubtful ; while it is certain th:.t 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 du parfait repos ! 
 Heureux celui, dont la Constance, 
 Vous conservant dans 1'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 seventy ; 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, 
 find, like many who assert such claims, was very troublesome, 
 very self-sufficient, and very cxifjeante, might not always have 
 found that general superiority, or even transient lustre, which
 
 ANTHONY HAMILTON. 17 
 
 she expected in Hamilton's society : yet, considering the 
 great difference of their age and situation, this circumstance 
 will not greatly impeach his talents for conversation. But the 
 Avork of real genius must for ever remain ; and of Hamilton's 
 genius, the Grammont Memoirs will always continue a beau- 
 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 DE 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, 
 Unmatched in earnest or in sport, 
 
 In love, in frolic, and in war ! 
 
 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. 
 
 f Corisande and Menadaure were both ancestresses of the Count de 
 Grammont, and celebrated for beauty.
 
 TO TH-: C'.l'-NT 3J: GUAMMONT. 19 
 
 ao was e'er forgot by tl.ee ? 
 Witness, at Lrida, Dou Eriee,* 
 And Barcelona's lady nice, 
 Donna Ragueza, fair and free ; 
 "\Vitness, too, Boniface at Breda, 
 And Catalonia and Gasconne, 
 From Bourdeaux walls to far Bayoune, 
 From Perpignan to Pueycreda, 
 
 And we your friends of fair Garonne. 
 
 Even in these distant ami peaceful regions, ve 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 Gram- 
 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 politeness, excelling all that is to 
 be found elsewhere, and which yet must be attributes of those 
 It to make you their theme ? 
 
 Can mediocrity avail, 
 
 To follow forth such high emprize ? 
 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 Rag^ieza does 
 lot appear there. 
 
 C 2
 
 20 EPISTLE TO TIIE 
 
 We therefore limited our task to registering all tlie 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 hut 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. 
 l 
 
 * I presume, when he was educated for the chuich.
 
 COUM DK GRAMMONT. 21 
 
 The next expedient which occurred to us was, to have your 
 portrait displayed at full length in that miscellany which lately 
 gave us such an excellent letter of the illustrious chief of your 
 house. Here is the direction we obtained for that purpose : 
 
 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 sallies, 
 All tender heroes of their alleys, 
 By verse familiar who aspire 
 
 To seize the honour'd name of poet. 
 
 Some scream, 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 thrm. 
 
 We soon saw it would be impossible to crowd you, with
 
 22 EPISTLE TO TIIE 
 
 propriety, into eo miscellaneous a miscellany ; and these 
 various difficulties at length reconciled us to our original inten- 
 tion of attempting the adventure ourselves, despite of our insuf- 
 ficiency, and of calling to our assistance two 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 (he who wears at his ear that pearl, which, you 
 used to say, his mother had hung there out of devotion), 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 cause 
 
 The mood of the theatric muse, 
 And raise again, the stage to tread, 
 Renowned Greeks and Romans dead ; 
 Attend ! And thou, too, lend thine aid, 
 Chmlieu ! 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 the 
 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. 
 
 that of your philosopher, the inimitable St. Evremont.* None 
 of the tumult which usually announces the arrival of ghosts of 
 consequence preceded this apparition. 
 
 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 i*hilippi's contest clatter'd, 
 
 The dauntless Brutus came to hector : 
 Xor was he clad like ghost of Laius, 
 
 Who, 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 which vulgar sprites enfold, 
 When, gliding from their ghostly hold. 
 
 They haunt our couch, and scare our slumber. 
 
 By all this we s<i>v 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 Tin: 
 
 In fine, the self-same equipage, 
 
 As when, with lovely Mazarine, 
 Still 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-armounced, he placed himself between 
 us without ceremony, but could not forbear smiling at ilv* 
 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 bliss of indolence. 
 
 " 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 GRAMMONT. 25 
 
 collected for others, and never mind the order of time or events : 
 I would advise you, on the contrary, to chuse the latter years 
 of your hero for your principal subject : His earlier adA r entures 
 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 
 
 1 1 as ne'er with jaundiced eye regarded : 
 But mid all anecdotes he tells 
 Of warriors, statesmen, and of helles, 
 
 With whom he fought, intrigued, and slept, 
 That 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 character : 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 yoti.f Try only, in 
 
 * The Count de Graramont, 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. 
 
 f 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 threw v.ith
 
 2G 
 
 : lating his adventures, to colour over his failings, and give 
 i'clief 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 your favour?" 
 
 * St. Evremont, whose attachment to Grammont amounted to en- 
 'ausiasm, 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 Condi'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 buffoon'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 tell 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 GRAMJIONT. 27 
 
 Till, without fawning, like his neighbours, 
 
 His prompt address foil'd all their labour?. 
 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.* 
 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. 
 
 f Grammont is supposed to have had no small share in determining 
 the Duke of Buckingham, then Charles the Second's favoarite 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 his 
 mistress, the celebrated Countess of Shrewsbury, could do to prevent
 
 28 KPI.-TLE TO THE 
 
 Each tale in easy language dress, 
 
 With natural expression closing ; 
 Lot every rhyme fall in express ; 
 Avoid poetical excess, 
 
 And shun low miserable prosing : 
 D:ntnot 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'll 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 religious matters, sent Dangeau
 
 COUNT DE GISAMilONT. 29 
 
 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 Styx, 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, 
 There 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 rhymsd 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 EPISTLE TO THE COUNT DE GRAMMON'T. 
 
 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 I 
 
 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 bo 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 Grarnmont can return.
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT.
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 COUNT GR AMMO NT. 
 
 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 
 being 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 
 distinguish his character, shall find a place in these fragments 
 just as they present themselves to my imagination, without 
 paying any particular attention to their arrangement. For, 
 after all, what does it signify where the portrait is begun, 
 provided the assemblage of the parts form a whole which 
 perfectly 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 antiquity, or agreeable 
 passages of literature, which frequently have no reference to 
 
 D
 
 34 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 the 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, Autigonus, was 
 only his uncle ; but this is not until lie 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 Mark 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 in 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 Gramniont 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 GRAMMONT. 3/5 
 
 of a sprightly 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, 1 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 relv 
 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 
 ve owe these memoirs, since I only hold the pen, while he 
 directs it to the mo.st remarkable and secret passages of Ins
 
 36 WEMi'ins OF 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN those days affairs were not managed in France as at 
 present : Louis XIII. 2 then sat upon the throne, but the Car- 
 dinal de Richlieu 3 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 
 police 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 tlie 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. 4 
 
 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- 
 eion to reconnoitre the place. Prince Thomas 5 commanded 
 the army; and as the post nf lieutenant-general was not then
 
 CDC NT GUAM MONT. 37 
 
 known, 6 Du Plessis Pralin" and the famous Viscount Turenne 8 
 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 these 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 officers in the army, 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 
 his talents and courted his friendship. Of this number was 
 Matta : 9 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. As they were both
 
 38 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 liberal and magnificent, at their 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 witb 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 was 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 the state of their 
 finances, although the steward had acquainted each separately, 
 that he must either receive money to continue the expenses, 
 or give 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 GRAMMONT. 39 
 
 way of \vaking, and ludicrous enough," said the Chevalier; 
 " What is the matter, and whom do you laugh at ?" c; Faith, 
 Chevalier," said Matta, " I am laughing at a dreain I had just 
 now, which is so natural and diverting, that I must make 
 you laugh at it also. I was dreaming that we had dismissed 
 our mailre d'hotel, our cook, and our confectioner, having re- 
 solved, for the remainder of -the campaign, to live upon others 
 as others have lived upon us ; this was my dream. Now tell 
 rne, Chevalier, on what were you musing ?" " Poor fellow !" 
 .said the Chevalier, shrugging up his shoulders, " you are 
 knocked down at once, and thrown into the utmost conster- 
 nation and despair at some silly stories, which the maitre 
 d'hotel has been telling you as well as me. What ! after the 
 figure we have made in the face of the nobility and foreigners 
 in the army, shall we give it up, and like fools and beggars 
 sneak off, upon the first failure of our money ! Have you no 
 sentiments of honour? Where is the dignity of France?" 
 ;id where is the money ?" said Matta; " for my men say, 
 the devil may take them, if there be ten crowns in the house 1 , 
 and I believe you have not much more, for it is above a week 
 since I have seen you pull out your purse, or count your 
 money, an amusement you were very fond of in prosperity." 
 " I own all this," said the Chevalier, "but yet I will force 
 you to confess, that you are but a mean-spirited fellow upon 
 this occasion. What would have become of you if you had 
 been reduced to the situation I was in at Lyons, four days 
 before I arrived here ? I will tell you the story."
 
 40 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " THIS," said Matta, " smells strougly of romance, except 
 that it should have been your Squire's part to tell your ad- 
 ventures." " True," said the Chevalier ; " however, I may 
 acquaint you with my first exploits without offending my 
 modesty ; besides, my Squire's style borders too much upon 
 the burlesque for an heroic narrative. 
 
 " You must know, then, that upon my arrival at Lyons " 
 " Is it thus you begin ? " said Matta, " pray give us your 
 history a little farther back, the most minute particulars of 
 a life like yours are worthy of relation ; but above all, the 
 manner in which you first paid your respects to Cardinal 
 Richlieu : I have often laughed at it. However, you may 
 pass over the unlucky pranks of your infancy, your genea- 
 logy, name and quality of your ancestors, for that is a subject 
 with which you must be utterly unacquainted." 
 
 " Poh !" said the Chevalier, " you believe that all the world 
 is as ignorant as yourself ; you think that I am a stranger to 
 the Mendores and the Corisandes. So, perhaps I don't know, 
 that it was my father's own fault that he was not the son of 
 Henry IY. The king would by all means have acknow- 
 ledged him for his son, but the traitor would never consent 
 to it. See what the Grammonts would have been now, but 
 for this cross-grained fellow ! They would have had pre- 
 cedence of the Caesars de Yendome. 10 You may laugh, if you 
 like, yet it is as true as the gospel : but let us come to the 
 point. 
 
 " I was sent to the college of Pau, 1: with tlic intention of
 
 COUNT GUAMMONT. 41 
 
 being brought up to the church ; but as I had quite different 
 views, I made no manner of improvement : gaming was so 
 much in my head, that both my tutor and the master lost 
 their labour in endeavouring to teach me Latin. Old Brinon, 
 who served me both as valet-de-chambre and governor, in 
 vain threatened to acquaint my mother. I only studied when 
 I pleased, that is to say, seldom or never : however, they 
 treated me as is customary with scholars of my quality ; I 
 was raised to all the dignities of the forms, without having 
 merited them, and left college nearly in the same state in 
 which I entered it ; nevertheless I was thought to have more 
 knowledge than was requisite for the abbacy, which my bro- 
 ther had solicited for me. He had just married the niece of 
 a minister, to whom every one cringed : he was desirous to 
 present me to him. I felt but little regret to quit the coun- 
 try, and great impatience to see Paris. My brother having 
 kept me some time with him, in order to polish me, let me 
 loose upon the town to shake off my rustic air, and learn the 
 manners of the world. I so thoroughly gained them, that I 
 could not be persuaded to lay them aside when I was intro- 
 duced at court in the character of an Abbe. You know 
 what kind of dress was then the fashion. All that they could 
 obtain of me was to put a cassock over my other clothes, and 
 my brother, ready to die with laughing at my ecclesiastical 
 habit, made others laugh too. I had the finest head of hair 
 in the world, well curled and powdered, above my cassock, 
 and below were white buskins and gilt spurs. The Cardinal, 
 who had a quick discernment, could not help laughing. This 
 elevation of sentiment gave him umbrage ; and he foresaw 
 what might be expected from a genius that already laughed 
 at the shaven crown and cowl. 
 
 " When my brother had taken me home ; ' Well, my little 
 parson,' said he, ' you have acted your part to admiration, and
 
 42 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 your party-coloured dress ot the ecclesiastic and soldier 
 greatly diverted the court ; but this is not all ; you must now 
 choose, my little knight. Consider then, whether, by stick- 
 ing to the church, you will possess great revenues, ami have 
 nothing to do ; or with- a small portion, you will risk the loss 
 of a leg or arm, and be the fructus belli of an insensible court, 
 to arrive in your old age at the dignity of a major-general, 
 with a glass eye and a wooden leg.' ' I know,' said I, ' that 
 there is no comparison between these two situations, with 
 regard to the conveniences of life ; but, as a man ought to 
 secure his future state in preference to all other considerations, 
 I am resolved to renounce the church for the salvation of my 
 soul, upon condition, however, that I keep my abbacy.' Nei- 
 ther the remonstrances nor authority of my brother could 
 induce me to change my resolution ; and he was forced to 
 agree to this last article in order to keep me at the academy. 
 You know that I am the most adroit man in France, so that 
 I soon learned all that is taught at such places, and, at the 
 same time, I also learnt that which gives the finishing stroke 
 to a young fellow's education, and makes him a gentleman, 
 viz., all sorts of games, both at cards and dice ; but the truth 
 is, I thought, at first, that I had more skill in them than I 
 really had, as experience proved. When my mother knew 
 the choice I had made, she was inconsolable ; for she reckoned, 
 that had I been a clergyman I should have been a saint ; but 
 now she was certain that I should either be a devil in the 
 world, or be killed in the wars. And indeed I burned with 
 impatience to be a soldier ; but being yet too young, I was 
 forced to make a campaign at Bidache I2 before I made one in 
 the army. When I returned to my mother's house, I had so 
 much the air of a courtier, and a man of the world, that she 
 began to respect me, instead of chiding me for my infatuation 
 towards the army. I became her favourite, and finding me
 
 COU.NT GKAM.MO.NT. 43 
 
 inflexible, she only thought of keeping me with her as long as 
 she could, while my little equipage was preparing. The 
 faithful Brinon, who was to attend me as valet-de-chambre. 
 was likewise to discharge the office of governor and equerry, 
 being, perhaps, the only Gascon who was ever possessed of so 
 much gravity and ill-temper. He passed his word for my 
 good behaviour and morality, and promised my mother that 
 he would give a good account of my person in the dangers of 
 the war ; but I hope he will keep his word better as to this 
 last article, than he has done to the former. 
 
 " My equipage was sent away a week before me. This 
 was so much time gained by my mother to give me a good 
 advice. At length, after having solemnly enjoined me to 
 have the fear of God before my eyes, and to love my neigh- 
 bour as myself, she suffered me to depart, under the protec- 
 tion of the Lord and the sage Brinon. At the second stage 
 we quarrelled. He had received four hundred louis d'ors for 
 the expenses of the campaign : I wished to have the keeping 
 of them myself, which he strenuously opposed. ' Thou old 
 scoundrel,' said I, ' is the money thine, or was it given thee 
 for me ? You suppose I must have a treasurer, and receive 
 no money without his order.' I know not whether it was 
 from a presentiment of what afterwards happened, that he 
 melancholy ; however, it was with the greatest reluc- 
 ', and the most poignant anguish, that he found himself 
 obliged to yield. One would have thought that I had 
 wrested his very soul from him. I found myself more light 
 and merry after I had eased him of his trust ; he, on the con- 
 trary, appeared so overwhelmed with grief, that it seemed as 
 if I had laid four hundred pounds of lead upon his back, 
 instead of taking away these four hundred louis. He went 
 on so heavily, that I was forced to whip his horse myself, and 
 turning to me, now and then, ' Ah ! Sir,' said he, ' my lady
 
 44 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 did not think it would be so.' His reflections and sorrows 
 were renewed at every stage ; for, instead of giving a shilling 
 to the post-boy, I gave him half-a-crown. 
 
 " Having, at last, reached Lyons, two soldiers stopped us 
 at the gate of the city, to carry us before the governor. I 
 took one of them to conduct me to the best inn, and delivered 
 Brinon into the hands of the other, to acquaint the com- 
 mandant with the particulars of my journey, and my future 
 intentions. 
 
 " There are as good taverns at Lyons as at Paris ; but my 
 soldier, according to custom, carried me to a friend of his 
 own, whose house he extolled, as having the best accommo- 
 dations, and the greatest resort of good company in the whole 
 town. The master of this hotel was as big as a hogshead, his 
 name Cerise ; a Swiss by birth, a poisoner by profession, and 
 tv thief by custom. He shewed me into a tolerably neat room, 
 and desired to know, whether I pleased to sup by myself or 
 at the ordinary. I chose the latter, on account of the bcau- 
 monde which the soldier had boasted of. 
 
 " Brinon, who was quite out of temper at the many 
 questions which the governor had asked him, returned more 
 surly than an old ape ; and seeing that I was dressing my 
 hair, in order to go down stairs : ' What are you about now, 
 Sir ? ' said he ; ' are you going to tramp about the town ? 
 No, no : have we not had tramping enough ever since the 
 morning ? Eat a bit of supper, and go to bed betimes, that 
 you may get on horseback by daybreak.' ' Mr. Comptroller,' 
 said I, ' I shall neither tramp about the town, nor eat alone, 
 nor go to bed early. I intend to sup with the company 
 below.' At the ordinary ! ' cried he, ' I beseech you, Sir, 
 do not think of it ! Devil take me, if there be not a dozen 
 brawling fellows playing at cards and dice, who make noise 
 enoiurh to drown the loudest thunder !'
 
 COUNT GUAMMONT. 45 
 
 " I was grown insolent since I had seized the money ; and 
 being desirous to shake off the yoke of a governor, ' Do you 
 know, Mr. Brinon,' said I, 'that I don't like a blockhead to 
 set up for a reasoner ? do you go to supper, if you please, but 
 take care that I have post-horses ready before daybreak.' 
 The moment he mentioned cards and dice, I felt the money 
 burn in my pocket. I was somewhat surprised, however, to 
 find the room where the ordinary was served filled with odd- 
 looking creatures. My hoet, after presenting me to the 
 company, assured me, that there were but eighteen or twenty 
 of those gentlemen who would have the honour to sup with 
 me. I approached one of the tables where they were play- 
 ing, and thought I should have died with laughing : I 
 expected to have seen good company and deep play ; but I 
 only met with two Germans playing at backgammon. Never 
 did two country loobies play like them ; but their figures 
 beggared all description. The fellow near whom I stood was 
 short, thick, and fat, and as round as a ball, with a ruff, and 
 a prodigious high-crowned hat. Any one, at a moderate 
 di^t;ince, would have taken him for the dome of a church, 
 with the steeple on the top of it. I inquired of the host, who 
 lie was. ' A merchant from Basle,' said he, ' who comes 
 hither to sell horses ; but from the method he pursues, I think 
 he will not dispose of many ; for he does nothing but play.' 
 ' Does he play deep ? ' said I. ' Not now,' said he ; ' they 
 are only playing for their reckoning, while supper is getting 
 ready ; but he has no objection to play as deep as any one.* 
 ' Has he money ? ' said I. ' As for that,' replied the 
 treacherous Cerise, ' would to God you had won a thousand 
 pistoles of him, and I went your halves; we should not be 
 long without our money.' I wanted no farther encourage- 
 ment to meditate the ruin of the high-crowned hat. I went 
 nearer him, in order to take a closer survey ; never was such
 
 46 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 a bungler, he made blots upon blots ; God knows, I began to 
 feel some remorse at winning of such an ignoramus, who 
 knew so little of the game. He lost his reckoning ; supper 
 was served up ; and I desired him to sit next me. It was a 
 long table, and there were at least five-ami -twenty in 
 company, notwithstanding the landlord's promise. The most 
 execrable repast that ever was begun being finished, all the 
 crowd insensibly dispersed, except the little Swiss, who still 
 kept near me, and the landlord, who placed himself on the 
 other side of me. They both smoked like dragons ; and the 
 Swiss was continually saying in bad French, ' I ask your 
 pardon, Sir, for my great freedom ; ' at the same time blow- 
 ing such whiffs of tobacco in my face as almost suffocated me. 
 Mr. Cerise, on the other hand, desired he might take the 
 liberty of asking me, whether I had ever been in his country ; 
 and seemed surprised I had so genteel an air, without having 
 travelled in Switzerland. 
 
 "The little chub I had to encounter was full as inquisitive 
 as the other. He desired to know whether I came from the 
 army in Piedmont; and having told him I was going thither, 
 lie asked me, whether I had a mind to buy any horses ? that 
 he had about two hundred to dispose of, and that he would 
 sell them cheap. I began to be smoked like a gammon of 
 bacon ; and being quite wearied out, both with their tobacco 
 and their questions, I asked my companion, if he would play 
 for a single pistole at backgammon, while our men were sup- 
 ping ; it was not without great ceremony that he consented, 
 at the same time asking my pardon for his great freedom. 
 
 " I won the game ; I gave him his revenge, and won again. 
 "We then played double or quit ; I won that too, and all in 
 the twinkling of an eye ; for he grew vexed, and suffered 
 himself to be taken in, so that I began to bless my stars for 
 my good fortune. Brinon came in about the end of the
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 47 
 
 third game, to put me to bed. He made a great sign of the 
 cross, but paid no attention to the signs I made him to retire. 
 I was forced to rise to give him that order in private. He 
 be^an to reprimand me for disgracing myself by keeping 
 company with such a low-bred wretch. It was in vain that I 
 told him, he was a great merchant, that he had a great deal 
 of money, and that he played like a child. ' He a merchant ! ' 
 cried Brinon. ' Do not believe that, Sir. May the devil 
 take me, if he is not some conjurer.' ' Hold your tongue, 
 old fool,' said I ; ' he is no more a conjurer than you are, and 
 that is decisive ; and, to prove it to you, I am resolved to win 
 four or five hundred pistoles of him before I go to bed.' 
 With these words I turned him out, strictly enjoining him 
 not to return, or in any manner to disturb us. 
 
 " The game being done, the little Swiss unbuttoned his 
 pockets, to pull out a new four-pistole piece, and presenting 
 it to me, he asked my pardon for his great freedom, and 
 seemed as if he wished to retire. This was not what I 
 wanted. I told him we only played for amusement ; that I 
 had no design upon his money ; and that, if he pleased, I 
 would play him a single game for his four pistoles. He 
 raised some objections ; but consented at last, and won back 
 his money. I was piqued at it. I played another game ; 
 fortune changed sides ; the dice ran for him, he made no 
 more blots. I lost the game ; another game, and double or 
 quit ; we doubled the stake, and played double or quit again. 
 I was vexed ; he, like a true gamester, took every bet I 
 offered, and won all before him, without my getting more 
 than six points in eight or ten games. I asked him to play a 
 single game for one hundred pistoles ; but as he saw I did not 
 stake, he told me it was late ; that he must go and look after 
 his horses ; and went awny, still asking my pardon for his 
 great freedom. The cool manner of his refusal, and the
 
 48 MEMOIKS OP 
 
 politeness with which he took his leave, provoked me to such 
 a degree, that I almost could have killed him. I was so 
 confounded at losing my money so fast, even to the last 
 pistole, that I did not immediately consider the miserable 
 situation to which I was reduced. 
 
 "I durst not go up to my chamber for fear of Brinon. 
 By good luck, however, he was tired with waiting for me, 
 and had gone to bed. This was some consolation, though 
 but of short continuance. As soon as I was laid down, all 
 the fatal consequences of my adventure presented themselves 
 to my imagination. I could not sleep. I saw all the horrors 
 of my misfortune, without being able to find any remedy ; in 
 vain did I rack my brain ; it supplied me with no expedient. 
 I feared nothing so much as daybreak : however, it did come, 
 and the cruel Brinon along with it. He was booted up to 
 the middle, and cracking a cursed whip, which he held in his 
 hand : ' Up, Monsieur le Chevalier,' cried he, opening the 
 curtains, ' the horses are at the door, and you are still asleep. 
 We ought by this time to have rid two stages ; give me 
 money to pay the reckoning.' ' Brinon,' said I, in a dejected 
 tone, ' draw the curtains.' ' What !' cried he, ' draw the cur- 
 tains ! Do you intend then to make your campaign at Lyons ? 
 You seem to have taken a liking to the place. And for the 
 p-eat merchant, you have stripped him, I suppose. No, no, 
 Monsieur le Chevalier, this money will never do you any 
 good. This wretch has, perhaps, a family ; and it is his 
 children's bread that he has been playing with, and that you 
 have won. Was this an object to sit up all night for ? 
 What would my lady say, if she knew what a life you lead?" 
 * Mr. Brinon,' said I, ' pray draw the curtains.' But instead 
 of obeying me, one would have thought that the devil had 
 prompted him to use the most pointed and galling terms to a 
 person under such misfortunes. ' And how much have you
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 49 
 
 wou ?' said he : 'five hundred pistoles? what must the poor 
 man do ? Recollect, Monsieur le Chevalier, what I have 
 Staid : tins money will never thrive with you. It is. perhapu, 
 but four hundred? three? two? Well, if it be but one 
 hundred louis d'ors,' continued he, seeing that I shook iny 
 head at every sum which he had named, there is no great 
 liief done ; one hundred pistoles will not ruin 1 ini, pro- 
 u have won them fairly.' ' Friend Brinon," .-aid I, 
 it-telling a deep sigh, 'draw the curtains; I am unworthy to 
 see daylight.' Brinon was much affected at these meKu:- 
 choly words : but I thought lie would have fainted, when I 
 told him the whole adventure. He tore his hair, made 
 grievous lamentations, the burden of which still was, ' Wl at 
 will my lady say ?' And, after having exhausted his un- 
 profitable complaints, ' What will become of you now, Mon- 
 sieur le Chevalier ?' said he, * what <!o you intend to do?' 
 ' Nothing,' said I, 'for I am fit for nothing.' After this, 
 being somewhat eased after making him my confession, I 
 thought upon several projects, to none of which could I gain 
 his approbation. I would have had him post after my 
 equipage, to have sold sonic of my clothes. I was for pro- 
 posing to the horse-dealer, to buy some horses of him at a 
 high price on credit, to sell again cheap. Brinon laughed 
 at all these schemes, and after having had the cruelty <-f 
 keeping me upon the rack for a long time, he at last extri- 
 cated me. Parents are always stirgy towards their poor 
 children ; iny mother intended to have given me five hundred 
 louis d'ors, but she had kept back fifty, as well for s.>me 
 little repairs in the abbey, as to pay for praying for me. 
 Brinon had the charge of the other fifty, with strict injunc- 
 tions not to speak of them, unless upon seme urgent necessity. 
 And this, you sec, soon happened." 
 
 n
 
 50 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 "Thus you have a brief account of my first adventure. 
 Play has hitherto favoured me ; for, since my arrival, I have 
 had, at one time, after paying all my expenses, fifteen hun- 
 dred louis d'ors. Fortune is now again become unfavourable: 
 we must mend her. Our cash runs low ; we must, therefore, 
 endeavour to recruit." 
 
 ' Nothing is more easy," said Matta ; "it is only to find 
 out such another dupe as the horse-dealer at Lyons ; but now 
 I think on it, has not the faithful Brinon some reserve for 
 the last extremity ? Faith, the time is now come, and we 
 cannot do better than to make use of it." 
 
 " Your raillery would be very seasonable," said the Che- 
 valier, " if you knew how to extricate us out of this difficulty. 
 You must certainly have an overflow of wit, to be throwing 
 it away upon every occasion as at present. What the devil ! 
 will you always be bantering, without considering what a 
 serious situation we are reduced to ? Mind what I say, I will 
 go to-morrow to the head-quarters, I will dine with the Count 
 de Cameran, and I will invite him to supper." " Where?" said 
 Matta. " Here," said the Chevalier. " You are mad, my poor 
 friend," replied Matta. " This is some such project as you 
 formed at Lyons : you know we have neither money nor 
 credit ; and, to re-establish our circumstances, you intend to 
 give a supper." 
 
 " Stupid fellow !" said the Chevalier, " is it possible that, so 
 long as we have been acquainted, you should have learned no 
 more invention ? The Count de Cameran plays at quinze, 
 and so do 1 ; we want money ; he has more than he knows 
 what to do with ; I will bespeak a splendid supper, he shall 
 pay for it. Send your maitre d'hotcl to me, and trouble 
 yourself no farther, except in some precautions, which it is 
 necessary to take on such an occasion." " What are they ?
 
 COUNT GRAMMOST 51 
 
 said Matta. " I will tell you," said the Chevalier ; " for I find 
 one must explaiu to you things that are as clear as noon- 
 day. 
 
 " You command the guards that are here, don't yon ? As 
 soon as night comes on, you shall order fifteen or twenty men 
 under the command of your Serjeant La Place, to be under 
 arms, and to lay themselves flat on the ground, between 
 place and the head-quarters." " "What the devil!" cried Matta. 
 " an ambuscade ? God forgive me, I believe you intend to rob 
 the poor Savoyard. If that be your intention, I declare I 
 will have nothing to say to it." " Poor de.-il !" said tl:e Che- 
 valier, " the matter is this; it is very likely that we shall win 
 his money. The Picdmontese, though otherwise good fel- 
 lows, are apt to be suspicious and distrustful. He commands 
 the horse ; you know you cannot hold your tongue, and are 
 very likely to let slip some jest or other that may vex him. 
 Should he take it into his head that he is cheated, and resent 
 it, who knows what the consequences might be ; for he is com- 
 monly attended by eight or ten horsemen. Therefore, how- 
 ever he may be provoked at his loss, it is proper to be in such 
 a situation as not to dread his resentment." 
 
 " Embrace me, my dear Chevalier," said Matta, holding 
 his sides and laughing, " embrace me, for thou art not to be 
 matched. What a fool was I to think, when you talked to 
 me of taking precautions, that nothing more was necessary 
 than to prepare a table and cards, or perhaps to provide 
 some false dice ! I should never have thought of supporting 
 a man who plays at quinze by a detachment of foot : I must, 
 indeed, confess that you are already a great soldier." 
 
 The next day every thing happened as the Chevalier 
 Grammont had planned it; the unfortunate Cameron fell 
 into the snare. They supped in the most agreeable manner 
 possible : Matta drank five or six bumpers to drown a few 
 
 K 2
 
 52 MEMOIUS OF 
 
 scruples, which made him somewhat uneasy. The Chevalier 
 de Grammont shone as usual, and almost made his guest die 
 with laughing, whom he was soon after to make very serious ; 
 and the good-natured Cameran eat like a man whose aftec- 
 tions were divided between good cheer and a love of play; 
 that is to say, he hurried down his victuals, that he might 
 not lose any of the precious time which ho had devoted to 
 quinze. 
 
 Supper being done, the Serjeant La Place posted his 
 ambuscade, and the Chevalier de Grammont engaged hi* 
 man. The perfidy of Cerise, and the high-crowned hat, wore 
 still fresh in remembrance, and enabled him to get the better 
 of a few grains of remorse, and conquer some scruples which 
 arose in his mind. Matta, unwilling to be a spectator <-f 
 violated hospitality, sat down in an easy chair, in order tu 
 fall asleep, while the Chevalier was stripping the poor Count 
 of his money. 
 
 They only staked three or four pistoles at first, just for 
 amusement; but Cameran having lost three or four times, 
 he staked high, and the game became serious. He still lott, 
 and became outrageous ; tho cards ile\v about the room, and 
 the exclamations awoke Matta. 
 
 As his head was heavy with sleep, and hot with wine, ho 
 began to laugh at the passion of the Piedmoutese, instead 
 of consoling him. " Faith, my poor Count," said he, " if I 
 vas in your place, I would play no more." "Why so?" 
 said the other. " I don't know," said he, " but my heart 
 tells me that your ill-luck will continue." "I will try 
 that," said Cameran, calling for fresh cards. " Do so," said 
 Matta, and fell asleep again : it was but for a short time. 
 All cards were equally unfortunate for the loser. He held 
 none but. tens or court cards ; and if by chance he had quinze, 
 be was sure to be the younger hand, and therefore lost it.
 
 COl'-NT GRAMMONT. 53 
 
 Again be stormed. li Did not I tell you so ?" said Matta, 
 starting out of his sleep : " all your storming is in vain ; as 
 long as you play you will lose. Believe me, the shortest 
 follies are the best. Leave off, for the devil take me, if it 
 is possible for you to win." "Why?" said Camcran, who 
 began to be impatient. " Do you wish to know ?" said 
 Matta; u why, faith, it Is, because we are cheating you." 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont, provoked at so ill-timed a 
 jest, more especially as it carried along with it some appear- 
 ance of truth ; " Mr. Matta," said he, " do you think it can 
 be very agreeable for a man, who plays with such ill-luck 
 ;is the Count, to bo pestered with your insipid jests? For 
 my part, I am so weary of the game, that I would desist 
 immediately, if he was not so great a loser." Nothing is 
 more dreaded by a losing gamester, than such a threat ; and 
 the Count, in a softened tone, told the Chevalier, that 
 Mr. Matta might say what he pleased, if he did not offend 
 him ; that, as to himself, it did not give him the smallest 
 uneasiness. 
 
 The Chevalier do Grammont gave the Count far better 
 treatment than he himself had experienced from the Swi<> 
 at Lyons ; for he played upon credit as long as he pleased ; 
 which Cameran took so kindly, that he lost fifteen hundred 
 pistoles, and paid them the next morning. As for Matta, 
 he was severely reprimanded for the intemperance of his 
 tongue. All the reason he gave for his conduct was, that 
 he made it a point of conscience, not to suffer the poor 
 Savoyard to be cheated, without informing him of it; "Be- 
 sides," said he, ' it would have given me pleasure to havo 
 seen my infantry engaged with his horse, if he had been 
 inclined to mischief." 
 
 This adventure having recruited their finances, fortune
 
 54 MJ MOIKS OF 
 
 favoured them the remainder of the campaign, and the Che- 
 valier de Grammont, to prove that he had only seized upon 
 the Count's effects by way of reprisal, and to indemnify him- 
 self for the losses he had sustained at Lyons, began from 
 this time to make the same use of his money, that he has 
 been known to do since upon all occasions. He found out 
 the distressed, in order to relieve them ; officers, who had 
 lost their equipage in the war, or their money at pl.'iy ; 
 soldiers, who were disabled in the trenches ; in short, every 
 one felt tbe influence of his benevolence: but his manner of 
 conferring a favour exceeded even the favour itself. 
 
 Every man, possessed of such amiable qualities, must meet 
 with success in all his undertakings. The soldiers knew his 
 person, and adored him. The generals were sure to meet 
 him in e v ery scene of action, and sought his company at 
 other times. As soon as fortune declared for him, his first 
 care was vo make restitution, by desiring Cameron to go bis 
 halves in all parties where the odds were in his favour. 
 
 An inexhaustible fund of vivacity and good-humour gave 
 a certain air of novelty to whatever he either said or did. I 
 know not on what occasion it was that Monsieur de Turenne, 
 towards the end of the siege, commanded a separate body. 
 The Chevalier de Grannnont went to visit him at his new 
 quarters, where he found fifteen or twenty officers. M. de 
 Turenne was naturally fond of merriment, and the Cheva- 
 lier's presence was sure to inspire it. He was much pleased 
 with this visit, and by way of acknowledgment, would have 
 engaged him to play. The Chevalier de Grammont, in re- 
 turning him thanks, said, that he had learned from his tutor, 
 that when a man went to see his friends, it was neither pru- 
 dent to leave his own money behind him, nor civil to carry 
 off theirs. "Truly," said Monsieur do Turenne, "you will
 
 COUKT GItAMMONT. 55 
 
 find neither deep play, nor much money among us ; but, that 
 it may not be said that we suffered you to depart without 
 playing, let us stake every one a horse." 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont agreed. Fortune, who had 
 followed him to a place where he did not think he should have 
 any need of her, made him win fifteen or sixteen horses, by 
 way of joke ; but, seeing some countenances disconcerted at the 
 loss, " Gentlemen," said he, " I should be sorry to see you re- 
 turn on foot from your general's quarters ; it will be enough 
 for me if you send me your horses to-morrow, except one, 
 which I give for the cards.' 
 
 The valet- de-chamb re thought he was bantering. " I speak 
 seriously," said the Chevalier, " I give you a horse for the 
 cards ; and what is more, take whichever you please, except 
 my own." " Truly," said Monsieur de Turenne, " I am vastly 
 pleased with the novelty of the thing ; for I don't believe that 
 a horse was ever before given for the cards." 
 
 Trino surrendered at last. The Baron de Batteville, 3 who 
 had defended it valiantly, and for a long time, obtained a 
 capitulation worthy of such a resistance. I do not know 
 whether the Chevalier de Grammont had any share in the 
 capture of this place ; but I know very well, that during a 
 more glorious reign, and with armies ever victorious, his in- 
 trepidity and address have been the cause of taking others 
 since, even under the eye of his master, as we shall see in the 
 sequel of these memoirs.
 
 5b MEMOIRS OP 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MILITARY glory is at most but one half of the accomplish- 
 ments wbicli distinguish heroes. Love must give the finishing 
 stroke, and adorn their character by the difficulties they en- 
 counter, the temerity of their enterprises, and finally, by the 
 lustre of success. "We have examples of tins, not only in ro- 
 mances, but also in the genuine histories of the most famous 
 warriors, and the most celebrated conquerors. 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont and Matta, who did not think 
 much of these examples, were, however, of opinion, that it 
 would be very agreeable to refresh themselves after the 
 fatigues of the siege of Trino, by forming some other singe?, 
 at the expense of the beauties and the husbands of Turin. As 
 the campaign had finished early, they thought th y should 
 have time to perform some exploits before the bad weather 
 obliged them to repass the mountains. 
 
 They sallied forth, therefore, not unlike Amadis de Gaul, 
 or Don Galaor, after they had been dubbed knight-, eager in 
 their search after adventures in love, war, and enchantments. 
 They were greatly superior to those two brothers, who only 
 km'w ho\v to cleave in twain iriants, to break lances, am 5 ^, 
 carry off fair damsels behind them on horseback, without 
 saying a single word to them ; whereas our heroes wore 
 adepts at cards and dice, of which the others were totally 
 ignorant. 
 
 They went to Turin, met with an agreeable reception, and 
 were greatly distinguished at court. Could it bo otherwise? 
 They were young and handsome ; they had wit at command,
 
 COUNT GKAMMOXT. 57 
 
 and spent their money liberally. In what country will not a 
 man succeed, possessing such advantages ? As Turin was at 
 that time the seat of gallantry and of love, two strangers of 
 this description, who were always cheerful, brisk, and lively, 
 rould not fail to please the ladies of the court. 
 
 Though the men of Turin were extremely handsome, they 
 were not, however, possessed of the art of pleasing. They 
 treated their wives with respect, and were courteous to 
 stranger.?. Their wives, still more handsome, were full as 
 courteous to strangers, and less respectful to their hus- 
 bands. 
 
 Madame Royale, 14 a worthy daughter of Henry IV., ren- 
 dered her little court the most agreeable in the world. S'he 
 inherited such of her father's virtues, as compose the proper 
 ornament of her sex ; and with regard to what are termed 
 the foibles of great souls, her highness had in no wise dege- 
 nerated. 
 
 The Count de Tanes was her prime minister. It was not 
 difficult to conduct affairs of state during his administration. 
 No complaints were alleged against him ; and the princess, 
 satisfied with his conduct herself, was. above all, glad to 
 have her choice approved by her whole court, where people 
 lived nearly according to the manners and customs of ancient 
 chivalry. 
 
 The ladies had each a professed lover, for fashion's sake, 
 besides volunteers, whose numbers were unlimited. The de- 
 clared admirers wore their mistresses' liveries, their arms, and 
 sometimes even took their names. Their office was, never 
 to quit them in public, and never to approach them in j ri- 
 vate ; to be their squires upon all occasions, and, in justs 
 and tournaments, to adorn their lances, their housings, and 
 their coats, with the cyphers and the colours of their dr.l- 
 cineas.
 
 58 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 Matta was far from t>eing averse to gallantry ; but would 
 have liked it more simple than as it was practised at Turin 
 The ordinary forms would not have disgusted him ; but he 
 found here a sort of superstition in the ceremonies and 
 worship of love, which he thought very inconsistent : however, 
 as ho h. - d submitted his conduct in that matter to the 
 dircrl.ion o.' the Chevalier do Grammont, he was obliged to 
 follow his example, and to conform to the customs of the 
 country. 
 
 They enlisted themselves at the same time in the service of 
 two beauties, whose former squires gave them up immediately 
 from motives of politeness. The Chevalier de Grammont 
 chose Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain, and told Malta to 
 offer his services to Madame de Senantes. Matta consented, 
 though he liked the other better ; but the Chevalier de 
 Grammont persuaded him, that Madame de Senantes was 
 more suitable for him. As he had reaped advantage from the 
 Chevalier's talents in the first projects they had formed, he 
 resolved to follow his instructions iu love, as he had done his 
 advice in play. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain was in the bloom of youth ; 
 her eyes were small, but very bright and sparkling, and like 
 her hair were black; her complexion was lively and clear, 
 though not fair: she had an agreeable mouth, two fine rows 
 of teeth, a neck as handsome as one could wish, and a most 
 delightful shape ; she had a particular elegance in her elbows, 
 which, however, she did not shew to advantage ; her hands 
 were rather large and not very white ; her feet, though not 
 of the smallest, were well shaped ; she trusted to Providence, 
 and used no art to set off those graces which she had received 
 from nature ; but notwithstanding her negligence in the em- 
 bellishment of her charms, there was something so lively in 
 her person, that the Chevalier de Grammout was caught at
 
 COUNT GRAMMOM. 59 
 
 iirst sight ; lier \vit and humour corresponded with her other 
 qualities, being quite easy and perfectly charming ; she was 
 all mirth, all life, all complaisance and politeness, and all was 
 natural, and always the same without any variation. 
 
 The Marchioness de Senantes 15 was esteemed fair, and she 
 might have enjoyed, if she had pleased, the reputation of 
 having red hair, had she not rather chosen to conform to the 
 taste of the age in which she lived, than to follow that of the 
 ancients : she had all the advantages of red hair without any 
 of the inconveniences ; a constant attention to her person 
 served as a corrective to the natural defects of her com- 
 plexion. After all, what does it signify, whether cleanliness 
 be owing to nature or to art ? it argues an invidious temper, 
 to be very inquisitive about it. She had a great deal of wit, a 
 good memory, more reading, and a still greater inclination 
 towards tenderness. 
 
 She had a husband, whom it would have been criminal 
 even in chastity to spare. He piqued himself upon being a 
 Stoic, and gloried in being slovenly and disgusting ii: honour 
 of his profession. In this he succeeded to admiration ; for 
 he was very fat, so that he perspired almost as much in 
 winter as in summer. Erudition and brutality seemed to be 
 the most conspicuous features of his character, and were dis- 
 played in his conveisution, sometimes together, sometimes 
 alternately, but always disagreeably : he was not jealous, 
 and yet he was troublesome ; he was very well pleased to see 
 attentions paid to his wife, provided more were paid to him. 
 
 As soon as our adventurers had declared themselves, the 
 Chevalier deGrammont arrayed himself in green habiliments, 
 and dressed 3Iatta in blue, these being the favourite colours 
 of their new mistresses. They entered immediately upon 
 duty : the Chevalier learned and practised all the ceremonies 
 of this species of gallantry, as if he always had been accus-
 
 GO MKMOIKS UK 
 
 tomed to them ; but Matta commonly forgot one half, and 
 was not over perfect in practising the other. He uever 
 could remember, that his office was to promote the glory, and 
 not the interest, cf his mistress. 
 
 The Duchess of Savoy gave the very next day an entertain- 
 ment at La Venerie, 16 where all the ladies were invited. The 
 Chevalier was so agreeable and diverting, that he made his 
 mistress almost die with laughing. Malta, in leading his ladv 
 to the coach, squeezed her hand, and at their return from the 
 promenade he begged of her to pity his sufferings. This \ 
 proceeding rather too precipitately, and, although Madame do 
 Senantes was not destitute of the natural compassion of her 
 sex, slie nevertheless was shocked at the familiarity of this 
 treatment; she thought herself obliged to shew some degree 
 of resentment, and, pulling away her hand, which he had 
 pressed with still greater fervency upon this declaration, she 
 went up to the royal apartments without even looking at her 
 new lover. Matta, never thinking that he had offended her, 
 suffered her to go, and went in search of some company to cup 
 with him : nothing was more easy for a man of his disposition ; 
 he soon found what he wanted, sat a long time at table to re- 
 fresh himself after the fatigues of love, and went to bed com- 
 pletely satisfied that he had performed his part to perfection. 
 
 During all this time the Chevalier de Grammont acquitted 
 himself towards Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain with univer- 
 sal applause; and, without remitting his assiduities, he found 
 in -aus to shine, as they went along, in the relation of a thou- 
 sand entertaining anecdotes, which he introduced in the general 
 .conversation. Her Royal Highness heard them with pleasure, 
 and the solitary Senantes likewise attended to them. He per- 
 ceived this, and quitted his mistress to inquire what she had 
 :iuiie with Matta. " I ! " said she, " I have done nothing with 
 him ; but I don't know what he would have done with me, if
 
 COU^NT c;i;.umo.NT 01 
 
 I had been obliging enough to listen to his most humble 
 solicitations." She then told him in what manner hi.s 
 friend had treated her the very second day of their ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 The Chevalier could not forbear laughing at it: he told l-er 
 Matta was rather too unceremonious, but yet she would like 
 him better as their intimacy more improved, and for lx-r con- 
 solation he assured her, that he would have spoken in the saute 
 manner to her Royal Highness herself ; however, lie- would 
 not fail to give him a severe reprimand. He went the next 
 morning into his room for that purpose ; but Matta had gone 
 out early in the morning on a shooting party, in which ho had 
 beon engaged by his supper companions in the preceding even- 
 ing. At his return he took a brace of partridges and went to 
 his mistress. Being asked whether he wished to see the 
 ir.anjuis, he said no ; and the Swiss telling him his lady was 
 not at home, he left his partridges, and desired him to present 
 them to his mistress from him. 
 
 The marchioness was at her toilet, and was decorating her 
 head with all the grace slie could devise to captivate Matta, at 
 the moment he was denied admittance: she knew nothing 01 
 the matter ; but her husband knew every particular. He had 
 tukcn it in dudgeon, that the first visit was not paid to him, 
 and as he was resolved that it should not he paid to his wife, 
 the Swiss had received his orders, and had almost been beaten for 
 viug the present which had been left. The partridges, 
 however, were immediately sent back ; and Mattn, without 
 examining into the cause, was glad to have them again. He 
 went to court without ever changing his clothes, or in the 
 least considering he ought not to appear there without his 
 lady's colours. He found her becomingly drc cd ; her eyes 
 appeared to him more than usually Sparkling, and her whole 
 person altogether divine. He began from that day to bo
 
 G2 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 much pleased with himself for his complaisance to the Che- 
 valier de Grammont ; however, he could not help remarking 
 that she looked but coldly upon him. This appeared to him 
 a very extraordinary return for his services, arid, imagining 
 that she was unmindful of her weighty obligations to him, he 
 entered into conversation Avith her, and severely repri- 
 manded her for having sent back his partridges with so much 
 indifference. 
 
 She did not understand what he meant ; and highly 
 offended that he did not apologize, after the reprimand which 
 she concluded him to have received, told him, that he cer- 
 tainly had met with ladies of very complying dispositions iu 
 his travels, as he seemed to give himself airs that she was by 
 no means accustomed to endure. Matta desired to know, 
 wherein he could be said to have given himself any. 
 " Wherein ?" said she: "the second day that you honoured 
 me with your attentions, you treated mo as if I had been 
 your humble servant for a thousand years : the first time 
 that I gave you my hand, you squeezed it as violently as you 
 were able. After this commencement of your courtship, I 
 got into my coach, and you mounted your horse ; but, 
 instead of riding by the side of the coach, as any reasonable 
 gallant would have done, no sooner did a hare start from her 
 form, than you immediately galloped full speed after her : 
 having regaled yourself, during the promenade, by taking 
 snuff, without ever deigning to bestow a thought on me, 
 the only proof you gave me, on your return, that you 
 recollected me, was by soliciting me to surrender my reputa- 
 tion in terms polite enough, but very explicit. And now 
 you talk to me of having been shooting of partridges, and of 
 some visit or other, which, I suppose, you have been dream- 
 ing of, as well as of all the rest." 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont now advanced, to the inter-
 
 COUNT GRAMMOXT. 63 
 
 ruptinn of this whimsical dialogue. Malta was rebuked for 
 his forwardness, and his friend took abundant pains to con- 
 vince him, that his conduct bordered more upon insolence 
 than familiarity. Malta endeavoured to exculpate himself, 
 but succeeded ill. His mistress took compassion upon him. and 
 consented to admit his excuses for the manner, rather than his 
 repentance for the fact, and declared, that it was the intention 
 alone, which could cither justify or condemn, in such cases ; 
 that it was very easy to pardon those transgressions which 
 arise from excess of tenderness, but not such as proceeded 
 from too great a presumption of success. Matta swore, that 
 he only squeezed her hand from the violence of his passion, 
 and that he had been driven, by necessity, to ask her to re- 
 lieve it ; that he was yet a novice in the arts of solicitation ; 
 that he could not possibly think her more worthy of his affec- 
 tion, after a month's service, than at the present moment ; 
 and that he entreated her to ca-t away an occasional thought 
 upon him when her leisure admitted. The marchioness was 
 not offended : she saw very well, that she must not require 
 an implicit conformity to the established rule of decorum, 
 when she had to deal with such a character ; and the Cheva- 
 lier do Grammont, after this sort of reconciliation, went to 
 look after his own affair with Mademoiselle de St. Germain. 
 
 His concern was not the offspring of mere good nature, nay 
 it was the reverse ; for no sooner did he perceive, that the 
 marchioness looked with an eye of favour upon him, than this 
 conquest, appearing to him more easy than the other, he 
 thought it was prudent to take advantage of it, for fear of 
 losing the opportunity, and that he might not have spent all 
 his time to no purpose, in case he should prove unsuccessful 
 with the little St. Germain. 
 
 In the mean time, in order to maintain that authority
 
 C4 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 vhich he had usurped over the conduct of his friend, he, that 
 very evening, notwithstanding what had been already said, 
 reprimanded him for presuming to appear at court in his 
 morning suit, and without his mistress's badge ; for not having 
 had the wit or prudence to pay his first visit to the Marquis 
 de Senantes, instead of consuming his time to no purpose, in 
 inquiries for the lady ; and, to conclude, he asked him what 
 the devil he meant by presenting her with a brace of miser- 
 able red partridges. " And why not ?" said Matta : " ought 
 they to have been blue, too, to match the cockade and sword- 
 knots you made me wear the other day ? Plague not me 
 with your nonsensical whimsies : my life on it, in one fort- 
 night your equal in foppery and folly will not be found 
 throughout the confines of Turin ; but, to reply to your ques- 
 tions, I did not call upon Monsieur de Senantes, because I 
 had nothing to do with him, and because he is of a species of 
 animals which I dislike, and always shall dislike : as for you, 
 you appear quite charmed with being decked out in green 
 ribands, with writing letters to your mistress, and filling 
 your pockets with citrons, pistachios, and such sort of stuff, 
 with which you are always cramming the poor girl's mouth, 
 in spite of her teeth : you hope to succeed by chanting ditties, 
 composed in the days of Corisande and of Henry IV. which 
 you will swear yourself have made upon her: happy in prac- 
 tising the ceremonials of gallantry, you have no ambition for 
 the essentials. Very well : every one has a particular way 
 of acting, as well as a particular taste : yours is to trifle in 
 love ; and, provided you can make Mademoiselle de St. Ger- 
 main laugh, you are satisfied : as for my part, T am persuaded 
 that women here are made of the same materials as in other 
 places ; and I do not think that they can be mightily offended, 
 if one sometimes leaves off trifling, to come to the point : how-
 
 COUNT GKAMMONT. 85 
 
 ever, if the Marchioness is not of this way of thinking, she 
 may e'en provide herself elsewhere ; for I can assure her, 
 that I shall not long act the part of her squire." 
 
 This was an unnecessary menace ; for the Marchioness in 
 reality liked him very well, was nearly of the same way of 
 thinking herself, and wished for nothing more than to put 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 upon 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, Madam," 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 OF 
 
 R O N D E A U. 
 
 Keep in mind these maxims rare, 
 You who hope to win the fair ; 
 AVho 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 pleases, 
 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 enough 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 GRAMMONT. 67 
 
 The Chevalier de Gramraont had taken leave of his 
 tress nearly at the same time : the ardour of his pursuit was 
 extinguished. It was not that Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain 
 was less worthy than hitherto of his attentions : on the con- 
 trary, her attractions visibly increased : she retired to her 
 pillow with a thousand charms, and ever rose from it with ad- 
 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 happy 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 different than the passionate fondness 
 of a lover, always tender, always affectionate, yet always 
 respectful, and the careless indifference of a husband. 
 
 F2
 
 G8 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 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 Seuantes. 
 
 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
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 69 
 
 was wanted ; for as soon as ever the Chevalier was with the 
 Marchioness, her husband immediately joined them out of 
 politeness ; and on no account would have left them alone 
 together, for fear they should grow weary of each other with- 
 out him. 
 
 Matta, who 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 Matta 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 Senantes, he plagued him so much about it, that 
 at last he complied. His friend introduced him, and his mis- 
 
 H 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 Grammont 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. 
 'l he 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 cf being left alone with the Marquis ; but the Chevalier
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 71 
 
 having sent to desire them to go on before, and that he would 
 6e with them as soon as he had finished his game, poor Matta 
 was obliged to set out with the man, who, of all the world, 
 was most offensive to him. It was not the Chevalier's inten- 
 tion quickly to extricate Matta out of this embarrassment ; 
 he no sooner knew that they were gone, than he waited on the 
 Marchioness, 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 Marchioness 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 de 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 
 ihem 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 
 with their uneasiness, and in playing 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 pass 
 the day anywhere. The Chevalier de Grammont cursed her in 
 his heart, while she continued to torment him 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 MEM 01 US OF 
 
 moiselle 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 prolong 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, 
 lie 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 t&e-d-tdte 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 Mannii.-; :nid
 
 COL'M GRA.MMONT. 73 
 
 ?.i:itt:!, he had given a very advantageous character of the 
 latter, to make the former more desirous of his acquaintance ;' 
 and in the display of a thousand other accomplishments, 
 knowing what an infatuation the Marquis 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 cuter 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 Indies have lovers, with no other intentions than to grant
 
 74 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 them 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 healths, 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 GKAMMONT. O 
 
 This appeased them ; and the entertainment ended with 
 ,ter tranquillity than it had begun. The conversation was 
 again reduced to order ; but he could 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. Matta said, on the 
 contrary, that he 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, was 
 charmed with the account which the Chevalier de Gramrnont 
 ^ave 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 Matta. He went 
 every day to pay Matta a visit, and Matta 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 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 please where his 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 Marquis 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
 
 COUNT GKAM.MOXT. 77 
 
 all pre-engaged. Upon this the Marquis undertook to have 
 them at his country-house the following evening, and invited 
 the same company to sup with him there. Matta asked what 
 the devil they wanted with music, and maintained, that it 
 was of no use on such occasions but for women, who had 
 something to say to their lovers, while the fiddles prevented 
 them from being overheard ; or for fools, who had nothing 
 to say when the music ended. They ridiculed all his 
 arguments : the party was fixed for the next day, and the 
 music was voted by the majority of voices. The Marquis, to 
 console Matta, as well as to do honour to the entertainment, 
 toasted a great many healths : Matta was more ready to 
 listen to his arguments on this topic tnan in a dispute ; but the 
 Chevalier, perceiving that a little would irritate them, desircr 
 nothing more earnestly than to see them engaged in some new 
 controversy. It was in vain that he had from time to time 
 started some subject of discourse with this intention ; but 
 having luckily thought of asking what was his lady's maiden 
 name, Scnantes, who was a great genealogist, as all fools are 
 who have good memories, immediately began by tracing out 
 her family, by an endless confused string of lineage. The 
 Chevalier seemed to listen to him with great attention ; and 
 perceiving that Matta was almost out of patience, he desired 
 him to attend to what the Marquis was saying, for that 
 nothing could be more entertaining. " All this may be very 
 true," said Matta ; " but for my part, I must confess, if I 
 were married, I should rather choose to inform myself who 
 was the real father of my children, than who were my wife's 
 grandfathers." The Marquis, smiling at this rudeness, did 
 not leave off until he had traced back the ancestors of his 
 spouse, from line to line, as far as Yolande de Senautes ; 
 after this, he offered to prove, in less than half an hour, that 
 the Grammonts came originally from Spain. " Very well,"
 
 78 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 said Matta, " and pray what does it signify to us from whence 
 the Grammonts are descended ? Do not you know, Sir, that 
 it is better to know nothing at all than to know too much ?" 
 
 The Marquis maintained the contrary with great warmth, 
 and was preparing a formal argument to prove that an igno- 
 rant man is a fool ; but the Chevalier de Grammont, who 
 was thoroughly acquainted with Matta, saw very clearly that 
 he would send the logician to the devil before he should arrive 
 at the conclusion of his syllogism : for which reason, inter- 
 posing as soon as they began to raise their voices, he told 
 them, it was ridiculous to quarrel about an affair in itself so 
 trivial, and treated the matter in a serious light, that it might 
 make the greater impression. Thus supper terminated peace- 
 ably, owing to the care he took to suppress all disputes, and 
 to substitute plenty of wine in their stead. 
 
 The next day Matta went to the chase, the Chevalier de 
 Grammont to the bagnio, and the Marquis to his country- 
 house. "While the latter was making the necessary prepara- 
 tions for his guests, not forgetting the music, and Matta 
 pursuing his game to get an appetite, the Chevalier was 
 meditating on the execution of his project. 
 
 As soon as he had regulated his plan of operations in his 
 own mind, he privately sent anonymous intelligence to the 
 officer of the guard at the palace, that the Marquis de Senan- 
 tes had had some words with Monsieur de Matta the preced- 
 ing night at supper ; that the one had gone out in the morn- 
 ing, and that the other could not be found in the city. 
 
 Madame Royale, alarmed at this advice, immediately sent 
 for the Chevalier de Grammont : he appeared surprised when 
 her Highness mentioned the affair : he confessed, indeed, that 
 some high words had passed between them, but that he did 
 not believe either of them would have remembered them the 
 next day. He said, that if no mischief had yet taken place,
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 79 
 
 the best way would be to secure them both until the morning, 
 and that if they could be found, he would undertake to 
 reconcile them, and to obliterate all grievances : in this there 
 was no great difficulty. On inquiry at the Marquis's, they 
 were informed that he was gone to his country-house : there 
 certainly he was, and there they found him ; the officer put 
 him under an arrest, without assigning any reason for so 
 doing, and left him in very great surprise. 
 
 Immediately upon Matta's return from hunting, her Royal 
 Highness sent the same officer to desire liim to give her his 
 word that he would not stir out that evening. This com- 
 pliment very much surprised him, more particularly as no 
 reason was assigned for it. He was expected at a good 
 entertainment, he was dying with hunger, and nothing ap- 
 peared to him more unreasonable than to oblige him to stay 
 at home, in a situation like the present ; but he had given 
 his word, and not knowing to what this might tend, his only 
 resource was to send for his friend ; but his friend did not 
 come to him until his return from the country. He had 
 there found the Marquis in the midst of his fiddlers, and very 
 much vexed to find himself a prisoner in his own house on 
 account of Matta, whom he was waiting for in order to feast 
 him. He complained of him bitterly to the Chevalier de 
 Grammont : he said that he did not believe that he had 
 offended him ; but that, since he was very desirous of a quar- 
 rel, he desired the Chevalier to acquaint him, if he felt the 
 "least displeasure on the present occasion, he should, on the 
 very first opportunity, receive what is called satisfaction. 
 The Chevalier de Grammont assured him, that no such 
 thought had ever entered the mind of Matta; that, on the 
 contrary, he knew that he very greatly esteemed him ; that 
 all this could alone arise from the extreme tenderness of his 
 lady, who being alarmed upon the report of the servants
 
 SO MEMOIRS OF 
 
 who waited at table, must have gone to her Royal Highness, 
 in order to prevent any unpleasant consequences ; that he 
 thought this the more probable, as he had often told the 
 Marchioness, when speaking of Matta, that he was the best 
 swordsman in France; for in truth, the poor gentleman had 
 never fought without having the misfortune of killing his 
 man. 
 
 The Marquis, being a little pacified, said, he was very 
 much obliged to him ; that he would severely chide his wife 
 for her unseasonable tenderness, and that he was extremely 
 desirous of again enjoying the pleasure of his dear friend 
 Matta's company. 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont assured him that he would 
 use all his endeavours for that purpose, and at the same 
 time gave strict charge to his guard not to let him escape 
 without orders from the court, as he seemed fully bent upon 
 fighting, a*id they would be responsible for him : there was 
 no occasion to say more to have him strictly watched, 
 though there was no necessity for it. 
 
 One being thus safely lodged, his next step was to secure 
 the other. He returned immediately to town; and as soon 
 as Matta saw him : " What the devil," said he, " is the 
 meaning of this farce which I am obliged to act ? For my 
 part, I cannot understand the foolish customs of this coun- 
 try : how comes it that they make me a prisoner upon my 
 parole?" "How comes it?" said the Chevalier de Gram- 
 mont ; " it is because you yourself are far more unaccountable 
 than all their customs : you cannot help disputing -with a 
 peevish fellow, whom you ought only to laugh at : some 
 officious footman has no doubt been talking of your last 
 night's dispute : you were seen to go out of town in the 
 morning, and the Marquis soon after : was not this sufficient 
 to make her Royal Highness think herself obliged to take
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 81 
 
 these precautions ? The Marquis is in custody ; they have 
 only required your parole ; so far, therefore, from taking the 
 affair in the sense you do, I should send very humbly to 
 thank her Highness for the kindness she has manifested 
 towards you, in putting you under arrest, since it is only on 
 your account that she interests herself in the affair. I shall 
 take a walk to the palace, where I will endeavour to unravel 
 this mystery; in the mean time, as there is but little proba- 
 bility that the matter should be settled this evening, you 
 "jvould do well to order supper ; for I shall come back to you 
 immediately." 
 
 Matta charged him not to fail to express to her Royal 
 Highness the grateful sense he had of her favour, though 
 in truth he as little feared the Marquis as he loved him ; 
 and it is impossible to express the degree of his fortitude in 
 stronger terms. 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont returned in about half an 
 hour, with two or three gentlemen whom Matta had got 
 acquainted with at the chase, and who, upon the report of 
 the quarrel, waited upon him, and each offered him sepa- 
 rately his services against the unassisted and pacific Marquis. 
 Matta having returned them his thanks, insisted upon their 
 staying supper, and put on his robe de chambre. 
 
 As soon as the Chevalier de Grammont perceived that every 
 thing coincided with his wishes, and that towards the end of 
 the entertainment the toasts went merrily round, he knew he 
 was sure of his man till next day. Then taking him aside, 
 with the permission of the company, and making use of a 
 false confidence in order to disguise a real treachery, he ac- 
 quainted him, after having sworn him several times to secrecy, 
 that he had at last prevailed upon the little Saint-Germain to 
 grant him an interview that night ; for which reason he would 
 take his leave, under pretence of going to play at court; he 
 
 G
 
 82 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 therefore desired him fully to satisfy the company that he 
 would not have left them on any other account, as the Pied- 
 montese are naturally mistrustful. Matta promised he would 
 manage this point with discretion ; that he would make an 
 apology for him, and that there was no occasion for his per- 
 sonally taking leave. Then, after congratulating him upon 
 the happy posture of his affairs, he sent him away with all the 
 expedition and secrecy imaginable ; so great was his fear lest 
 his friend should lose the present opportunity. 
 
 Matta then returned to the company, much pleased with the 
 confidence which had been placed in him, and with the share 
 he had in the success of this adventure. He put himself into 
 the best humour imaginable in order to divert the attention of 
 his guests ; he severely satirized those, whose rage for gaming 
 induced them to sacrifice to it every other consideration ; he 
 loudly ridiculed the folly of the Chevalier upon this article, 
 and secretly laughed at the credulity of the Piedmontese, 
 whom he had deceived with so much ingenuity. 
 
 It was late at night before the company broke up, and Matta 
 went to bed, very well satisfied with what he had done for his 
 friend ; and, if we may credit appearances, this friend enjoyed 
 the fruit of his perfidy. The amorous Marchioness received 
 him like one who wished to enhance the value of the favour 
 she bestowed. Her charms were far from being neglected ; 
 and if there are any circumstances in which we may detest 
 the traitor, while we profit by the treason, this was not one of 
 them. And however successful the Chevalier de Grammont 
 was in his intrigues, it was not owing to him that the contrary 
 was not believed ; but be that as it may, being convinced, 
 that in love whatever is gained by address, is gained fairly, 
 it does not appear that he ever shewed the smallest degree of 
 repentance for this trick. But it is now time for us to take 
 him from the court of Savoy, to see him shine in that of 
 France.
 
 r u.vr GUA.MVONT. 83 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 THE Chevalier de Grammont, upon his returu to Fiance, 
 sustained, with the greatest success, the reputation he had 
 acquired abroad. Alert at play, active and vigilant in love ; 
 sometimes successful, and always feared, in his intrigues ; in 
 war alike prepared for the events of good or ill fortune ; pos- 
 sessing an inexhaustible fund of pleasantry in the former, and 
 full of expedients and dexterity in the latter. 
 
 Zealously attached to the Prince deConde 1 " 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 ; 18 and the details 
 lie 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 his 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.
 
 84 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 when they desired it ; for the Queen, 19 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 
 minister 20 was neither sanguinary nor revengeful. His favourite 
 maxim was rather to appease 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 which 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 Grainmont 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 
 case and elegance, as may be expected by those who have 
 heard his own relation of them ? Tain is the attempt to en- 
 deavour to transcribe these entertaining anecdotes, their spirit 
 joems to evaporate upon paper ; and in whatever light they 
 are exposed, the delicacy of their colouring, and their beauty 
 are lost.
 
 CuU.M UUAMAIONT. S5 
 
 It is then enough to say, that upon all occasions where 
 address was reciprocally employed, the Chevalier gained the 
 advantage ; and that if he paid 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 au 
 abject submission, while the Chevalier de Grammont, on a 
 thousand different occasions, never put himself under the least 
 restraint ; of which the following is one instance. 
 
 The Spanish army, commanded by the Prince de Conde 
 and the Archduke, 21 besieged Arras. The court was advanced 
 as far as Peronne. 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 frequently 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 upon 
 their counsels, tied up his hands. 
 
 Nevertheless the siege of Arras 24 was 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 Conde" being a man who 
 never neglected the smallest precaution for the security of his
 
 86 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 
 junctures 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 tfie 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, afforded 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 GRAMMONT. 87 
 
 ns as lie had, seemed to be exempted from such eagerness ; 
 but it was in vain that his friends opposed his resolutions. 
 
 The King was pleased with his intention ; and the Queen 
 appeared no less satisfied. lie assured her, that he would 
 bring 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. 
 
 He set out in the dusk of the evening with Caseau, whom 
 Monsieur de Turenne had sent express to their Majesties. 
 The Duke of York 25 and the Marquis d'Humieres 26 commanded 
 under the Marshal. 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'Hu- 
 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. 
 "\Vell," continued he, " what are they doing at Peronne?" 
 " They are in great consternation," replied the Chevalier. 
 " And what do they think of us ?" " 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. "Will 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 ino a hone, that I may have the
 
 88 MEMOIKS OF 
 
 honour to attend the Duke of York ; for, most likely, fie is 
 not in the field so early, except to visit some posts." 
 
 The advanced guard was only at cannon-shot from that 01 
 the enemy. As soon as they arrived there, " I should like," 
 said the Chevalier do 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 officer, 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?"
 
 COUNT GRAMMOXT. 8J 
 
 " What ! is it you, my good friend, La Motte ? 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, 
 when you taught the Duchess of Guise to dance the triolets ; 
 and I am afraid your affairs 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- 
 niont 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 de 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 de Grammont, who 
 wished to speak to the sentry before he went to the head- 
 quarters. He added, that he could not comprehend how the 
 devil he had managed to assemble both armies around him, for 
 it was hardly a minute since he had left him. " Truly,'' said 
 Monsieur 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 de 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 Conde, 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 ME.MOIHS OF 
 
 val of the Chevalier tie Graminont. He only gave Lussan 
 orders to recall the officers, and to desire the Chevalier to meet 
 him at the same place the nest 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 
 him, " that this can be the Chevalier de Graminont, and that
 
 COUNT GKAMMONT. 91 
 
 I should sec 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 Montmorency ^ 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, " that 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 officers of his acquaintance, who 
 had remained with him, the Prince told him 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 
 
 " Faith," 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 spy, he led me round the lines and en- 
 trenchments, and shewed me the preparations he had made 
 for your reception." "And what 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 GUAMMONT. 93 
 
 quis d'Humieres, who provided him with a supper aud a 
 lodging. 
 
 The next day the lines of Arras were attacked, wherein 
 Monsieur de Turenne, being victorious, added additional lus- 
 tre to his former glory ; and the Prince de Conde, though 
 vanquished, lost nothing of his former reputation. 
 
 There are so many accounts of this celebrated battle, that 
 to mention it here would be altogether superfluous. The 
 Chevalier de Grammont, who, as a volunteer, was permitted 
 to go into every part, has given a better description of it than 
 any other person. Monsieur dc Turennc reaped great advan- 
 tage from that activity which never forsook the Chevalier 
 either in peace or war; and that presence of mind which en- 
 abled him to carry orders, as coming from the general, so very 
 a-propos, that Monsieur de Turenne, otherwise very particular 
 in such matters, thanked him, when the battle was over, in 
 the presence of all his officers, and despatched him to court 
 with the first news of his success. 
 
 All that is generally necessary in these expeditions is, to be 
 accustomed to hard riding, and to be well provided with fresh 
 horses : but he had a great many other obstacles to surmount. 
 In the first place, the parties of the enemy were dispersed 
 over all the country, and obstructed his passage. Then he 
 had to prepare against greedy and officious courtiers, who, on 
 such occasions, post themselves in all the avenues, in order to 
 cheat the poor courier out of his news. However, his address 
 preserved him from the one, and deceived the others. 
 
 He had taken eight or ten troopers, commanded by an officer 
 of his acquaintance, to escort him half-way to Bapaume; 2 * 
 being persuaded that the greatest danger would lie between 
 the camp and the first stage. Ho had not proceeded a league 
 before he was convinced of the truth of what he suspected.
 
 94 3IEMOIHS OP 
 
 and turning to the officer, who followed him closely, ' : If you 
 are not well mounted," said he, " I would advise you to return 
 to the camp ; for my part, I shall set spurs to my horse, and 
 make the best of my way." " Sir," said the officer, " I hope 
 I shall be able to keep you company, at whatever rate you go, 
 until you are out of all danger." " I doubt that," replied the 
 Chevalier, " for those gentlemen there seem prepared to pay 
 us a visit." " Don't you see," said the officer, " they arc some 
 of our own people who are grazing their horses?" " No," 
 said the Chevalier ; " but I see very well that they are some 
 of the enemy's troopers." Upon which, observing to him 
 that they were mounting, he order<H the horsemen that es- 
 corted him to prepare themselves to make a diversion, and 
 he himself set off full speed towards Bapaume. 
 
 He was mounted upon a very swift English horse ; but 
 
 having entangled himself in a hollow way where the ground 
 
 was deep and miry, he soon had the troopers at his heels, 
 
 who, supposing him to be some officer of rank, would not be 
 
 deceived, but continued to pursue him without paying any 
 
 attention to the others. The best mounted of the party began 
 
 to draw near him ; for the English horses, swift as the wind 
 
 on even ground, proceeding but very indifferently in bad 
 
 roads, the trooper presented his carbine, and cried out to him, 
 
 at some distance, " Good quarter." The Chevalier de Gram- 
 
 mont, who perceived that they gained upon him, and that 
 
 whatever efforts his horse made in such heavy ground, he 
 
 must be overtaken at last, immediately quitted the road to 
 
 Bapaume, and took a causeway to the left, which led quite a 
 
 different way : as soon as he had gained it, he drew up, as if to 
 
 hear the proposal of the trooper, which afforded his horse an 
 
 opportunity of recovering himself; while his enemy, mistaking 
 
 his intention, and thinking that he only waited to surrender,
 
 COUNT ORAMMONT. 95 
 
 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 oeen 
 in it, and, instead of being received in triumph, and embraced 
 by a great queen for the important news with which he 
 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, 
 oifered him good quarter : but the Chevalier de Grammont, to 
 whom this offer, 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 off 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 shewed 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 
 watching foi him about the environs of Peronne, to return as 
 :i as they saw him, and carry his news to court, without 
 being acquainted with any of the particulars. He 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
 
 COCJfT GRAMMO.NT. 97 
 
 some severe reply, 29 in resentment for those two fine questions, 
 and the conclusion he had drawn from them. 
 
 The court was filled with the cardinal's spies : 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 hi* heart, within the hearing of the cardinal's creatures, 
 and which he would perhaps have told him to his face. 
 u 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 
 lias 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 
 1'v it than he did by the death of Peter Mazarine." 30 
 
 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 
 (jrammont was thoroughly 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 Majesties 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 Majesties are very well satisfied 
 with it : and to convince von it is more advantageous to me
 
 98 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 than the death of Peter Mazarine, if you will come and dine 
 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 Cheva-lier 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 
 <langerous 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 GRAMMOM 1 . 90 
 
 spirit,-? ; and in all transactions of importance, always a ip.an 
 of honour. 
 
 It is a pity that we must be 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 r.o chasm which decs not 
 afford regret ; 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 are better ascertained, that we 
 may arrive at the subject of his journey to England. 
 
 The peace of the Pyrenees, 31 the king's marriage, 32 the return 
 of the Prince de Conde, 83 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 brilliant abilities, 
 which prudence, in some measure necessary, had so long 
 obliged him to conceal. 
 
 An application, inimical to the pleasures which generally 
 attract that age, and which unlimited power very seldom 
 refuses, attached him solely to the cares of government . all 
 H 2
 
 100 MEMOIRS OK 
 
 admired this 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 muster's atten- 
 tion to the 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 the 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
 
 COUNT GKAMAIONT. 101 
 
 the best use of those advantages which nature had given 
 him for play, and in putting in practice new stratagems in 
 love. 
 
 He succeeded very well in the two first of these projects, 
 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 Motto Houdancourt was one of the maids 
 of honour to the queen dowager, and, though no sparkling 
 beauty, she had drawn away lovers from the celebrated Mene- 
 ville. 34 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, 
 :md often with tender sentiments ; bnt 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 convincinsr her he was much in love : she ?rew
 
 102 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 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 was 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.
 
 ror.vr GHAMMO.NT. 103 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CURIOSITY to sec a man equally famous for his crimes and 
 his elevation, had once before induced the Chevalier de Gram- 
 mont to visit England. Reasons of state assume great pri- 
 vilege* : 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 
 powers 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 accomplishments 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 his second voy-
 
 104 MKMOIKS OF 
 
 age. The joy for the restoration of the royal family still 
 appeared in all parts : the nation, fond of change and uorelty, 
 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. 35 
 
 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 nattered 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 hi* 
 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 him 
 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 fate. 
 
 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
 
 ( >i XT <.ii.VMMU.NT. 10.3 
 
 for education ; and nothing was to be seen among them but 
 an emulation in glory, politeness, and virtue. 
 
 With this 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 a.s the most glorious of his predecessors. 
 The magnificence displayed on this occasion was renewed at 
 his coronation. 36 The death of the Duke of Gloucester, 37 and 
 of the Princess Royal, 38 which followed soon after, had inter- 
 rupted the course of this splendour, by a tedious mourning, 
 which they quitted at last to prepare for the reception of the 
 Infanta of Portugal. 39 
 
 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 Granimont 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 
 ; i ftair;?, but was incapable of application to any that were not 
 so : his heart was often the dupe, but oftener the slave, of his 
 ,_ r cmcnts. 
 
 The character of the Duke of York 41 was entirely different : 
 he had the reputation of undaunted courage, an inviolable 
 attachment for his word, great economy in his affairs, hauteur, 
 application, arrogance, each in their turn : a scrupulous ob- 
 server of the rules of duty and the laws of justice ; he was 
 accounted a faithful friend, and an implacable enemy. 
 
 His morality and justice, struggling for some time with
 
 106 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 prejudice, had at last triumphed, by his acknowledging for his 
 wife Miss Hyde, 42 maid of honour to the Princess Royal, whom 
 he had secretly married in Holland. Her father, 43 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 44 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 
 steward 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 45 
 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 i 46 the other, 
 n 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, 47 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
 
 CUUNT GUAMMONT. 107 
 
 employed but in advising him to reward services, or to confer 
 favours on merit : so polished 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 Onuond's sons and his nephews had been in 
 the king's court during his exile, and were far from diminish- 
 ing its lustre after his return. The Earl of Arran 48 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, 49 was not so lively, but 
 of the most liberal sentiments, and of great probity. 
 
 The elder of the Hamiltons, 50 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 
 lie 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, 51 less dangerous than he appeared to be, 
 had not sufficient vivacity to support the impression which 
 his figure made ; but little Jermyn 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
 
 103 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 at Paris, while the king his master was starving at Brussels, 
 and the queen dowager, his mistress, lived not over well in 
 France. 62 
 
 Jermyn, 53 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 large and his legs 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. Tin.? 
 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 r 54 
 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, 55 a woman lively and 
 discerning, followed the delusive shadow ; and though unde- 
 ceived in a reputation which promised so much, and performed 
 so little, she nevertheless continued in her infatuation : she 
 even persisted in it, until she was upon the point of embroiling
 
 (.TNT GiJA.MVONT. iOO 
 
 herself with the king; so great was this fir.sc in.-uuicc 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- 
 maine, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland, Lady Chesterfield, 
 Lady Shrewsbury, 66 the Mrs. Roberts, Mrs. Middleton, the Miss 
 Brooks, 57 and a thousand others, who shone at court with equal 
 lustre ; but it was Miss Hamilton and Miss Stewart who were 
 its chief ornaments. 58 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 those 
 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 put 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 
 Wood. 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 nymph more hideous than the queen's 
 maids of honour, whom he had taken from him, as well as 
 two of his uames. Besides these, there were six chaplains, 
 four bakers, a Jew perfumer, and a certain officer, probably 
 without an office, who called himself her highncss's barber. 
 Katharine de Braganza was far from appearing with splendour 
 in the charming court '.vl;ere she came to reign ; however, in
 
 110 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 the end she was pretty successful. 59 The Chevalier do 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 60 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. 61 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont was soon likecl 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 Eng- 
 lish as strangers in 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 GK;\:.:MONT. Ill 
 
 pertinent affectation of the others, all the nation was charmed 
 with a man, who agreeably indemnified them for what they 
 had suffered from the folly of the former. 
 
 He first of all made his court to the king, and was of all 
 hia parties of pleasure : he played high, and lost but seldom : 
 he found so little difference 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 his 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 they 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 the 
 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 f A the treaty of the
 
 112 MEMOIKS OF 
 
 Pyrenees : au exile like hiinself, though for very different 
 reasons. 
 
 Happily .for them both, fortune had, some time before the 
 arrival of the Chevalier do Grammont, brought Saint Evre- 
 mond G2 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 t<> 
 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. 63 You arc 
 .sensible how much gallantry has sost 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 GRAMMOXT. 113 
 
 make you forget you are a stranger and an exile in this do 
 IL'litful country. 
 
 " Fortune may grow weary of befriending you at plav. 
 What would have become of you, if your last misfortune had 
 happened to you, when your money had been 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 
 1)0 that as it may, lay up a good store of money : when a man 
 is rich, he consoles himself for his banishment. I know you 
 \voll, 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 
 bo 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 qualifica- 
 tions which distinguish you here: generous, benevolent, ele- 
 ::;uit, 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 
 vour 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 
 (irar.ummt, "you talk here as if you were the Cato of Nor 
 iiiundy." "Do I say any thing untrue?" replied Saint 
 i'vremond : " is it not a fact, that as soon as a woman pleases 
 you, your first care is to find out whether she has any other 
 lover, and your second how to plague her; for the gaming 
 her affection is the last thing in your thoughts. You seldom 
 engage in intrigues, but to disturb the happiness of others : a 
 who has no lovers, would have no charms for you, 
 i
 
 J i. I ?.li:jlOIKS OF 
 
 and if .she has, she would be invaluable. Do not all the 
 places through which you have passed furnish me with a 
 thousand examples 1 Shall I mention your coup d'essai at 
 Turin 1 the trick you played at Foutainbleau, 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 confusion 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 lie 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 ? 64 How 
 many tricks, frauds, and persecutions did you not practise 
 for the Countess de Fiesque, 65 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
 
 COUNT GUAMMOXT. 115 
 
 other. Every country has its customs : in Holland, unmar- 
 ried ladies are of easy access, and of tender dispositions ; but 
 as soon as ever they are married, they become like sj 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. Middletou 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- 
 iidant. 
 
 This lover, who was not deficient in wit, was at that time 
 a Mr. Jones, afterwards Earl of Ranelagh : GG what engaged 
 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 OF 
 
 he found that the fair one was A'cry willing to accept, but 
 was tardy in making returns. This induced him, without 
 giving up his pretensions to her, to seek his fortune else- 
 where. 
 
 Among the queen's maids of honour, there was one called 
 "Warmest re ;''" she was a beauty very different from the other. 
 Mrs. Middleton 08 was well made, fair, and delicate ; but had 
 in her behaviour and discourse something precise and affected. 
 The indolent languishing airs she gave herself did not pit 
 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 company 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, apricot paste, essences, and 
 other small wares of love, arrived every week from Paris, 
 with some ne\v 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 
 London, and the ladies were as well pleased with them a.s if 
 they had been brought from abroad.
 
 CULM' UKAMMONT. 117 
 
 Miss Stewart's 69 beauty begau at this time to be celebrated. 
 The Countess of Castlemaine perceived that the king paid 
 attention to her; but, instead of being alarmed at it, she 
 favoured, as far as she was able, this new inclination, whether 
 from an indiscretion common to all those who think themselves 
 superior to the rest of mankind, or whether she designed, by 
 this pastime, to divert the king's attention from the commerce 
 which she held with Jermyn. She was not satisfied with, 
 appearing without any degree of uneasiness at a preference 
 which all the court began to remark : she even affected to 
 make Miss Stewart her favourite, and invited her to all the 
 entertainments she made for the king ; and, in confidence of 
 her own charms, with the greatest indiscretion, she often kept 
 her to sleep. The king, who seldom neglected to visit the 
 countess before she rose, seldom failed likewise to find Miss 
 Stewart in bed with her. The most indifferent objects have 
 charms in a new attachment : however, the imprudent coun- 
 tess was not jealous of this rival's appearing with her, in such 
 a situation, being confident, that whenever she thought fit, she 
 Could triumph over all the advantages which these opportu- 
 nities could afford Miss Stewart ; but she was quite mistaken. 
 The Chevalier de Grammont took notice of this conduct, 
 without being able to comprehend it ; but, as he was attentive 
 to the inclinations of the king, he began to make his court to 
 him by enhancing the merit of this new mistress. Her figure 
 was more showy than engaging : it was hardly possible for a 
 woman to have less wit, or more beauty : all her features 
 were fine and regular ; but her shape was not good : yet she 
 was slender, straight enough, and taller than the generality 
 of women: she was very graceful, danced well, and spoke 
 French better than her mother tongue : she was well bred, 
 and possessed, in perfection, that air of dress which is so
 
 118 *:;-:MOJ::.. OF 
 
 much admired, and which cannot be attained, unless it be 
 taken when young, in France. TVhile her charms were 
 gaining ground in the king's heart, the Countess of Castle- 
 maine amused herself in the gratification of all her caprices 
 
 Mrs. Hyde 70 was one of the first of the beauties who were 
 prejudiced with a blind prepossession in favour of Jermyn : 
 she had just married a man whom she loved : by this marriage 
 she became sister-in-law to the duchess, brilliant by her own 
 native lustre, and full of pleasantry and wit. However, she 
 was of opinion, that so long as she was not talked of on ac- 
 count of Jermyn, all her other advantages would avail nothing 
 for her glory : it was, therefore, to receive this finishing 
 stroke, that she resolved to throw herself into his arms. 
 
 She was of a middle size, had a skin of a dazzling white- 
 ness, fine hands, and a foot surprisingly beautiful, even in 
 England : long custom had given such a languishing tender- 
 ness to her looks, that she never opened her eyes but like a 
 Chinese ; and, when she ogled, one would have thought she 
 was doing something else. 
 
 Jermyn accepted of her at first ; but, being soon puzzled 
 what to do with her, he thought it best to sacrifice her to 
 Lady Castlemaine. The sacrifice was far from being dis- 
 pleasing to her : it was much to her glory to have carried off 
 Jermyn from so many competitors ; but this was of no con- 
 sequence in the end. 
 
 Jacob Hall, the famous rope-dancer, 71 was at that time in 
 vogue in London : his strength and agility charmed the pub- 
 lic, even to a wish to know what he was in private ; for he 
 appeared, in his tumbling dress, to be quite of a different 
 make, and to have limbs very different from the fortunate 
 Jermyn. The tumbler did not deceive Lady Castlemaine's 
 expectations, if report may be believed ; and as was intimated
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 119 
 
 iii ninny a song, much more to the honour of the rope-dancer 
 than of the countess ; but she despised all these rumours, and 
 only appeared still more handsome. 
 
 While satire thus found employment at her cost, there were 
 continual contests for the favours of another beauty, who was 
 not much more niggardly in that way than herself: this was 
 the Countess of Shrewsbury. 
 
 The Earl of Arran, -who had been one of her first admirers, 
 was not one of the last to desert her : this beauty, less famous 
 for her conquests, than for the misfortunes she occasioned, 
 placed her greatest merits in being more capricious than any 
 other. As no person could boast of being the only one in 
 her favour ; so no person could complain of having been ill 
 received. 
 
 Jermyn was displeased that she had made no advances to 
 him, without considering that she had no leisure for it : his 
 pride was offended ; but the attempt which he made to take 
 her from the rest of her lovers was very ill advised. 
 
 Thomas Howard, brother to the Earl of Carlisle," 2 was one 
 of them : there was not a braver, nor a more genteel man, in 
 England ; and though he was of a modest demeanour, and his 
 manners appeared gentle and pacific, no person was more 
 spirited, nor more passionate. Lady Shrewsbury, inconside- 
 rately returning the first ogles of the invincible Jermyn, did 
 not at all make herself more agreeable to Howard : that, 
 however, she paid little attention to ; yet, as she designed to 
 keep fair with him, she consented to accept an entertainment 
 which he had often proposed, and which she durst no longer 
 refuse. A place of amusement, called Spring Garden, 73 was 
 fixed upon for the scene of this entertainment. 
 
 As soon as the party was settled, Jermyn was privately 
 informed of it. Howard had a company in the regiment of
 
 120 MEMOIK.S or 
 
 guards, and one of the soldiers of his company played pretty 
 well on the bagpipes : this soldier was therefore at the en- 
 tertainment. Jermyn was at the garden, as by chance ; and, 
 puffed up with his former successes, he trusted to his victori- 
 ous air for accomplishing this last enterprise : he no sooner 
 appeared on the walks, than her ladyship shewed herself upon 
 the balcony. 
 
 I know not how she stood affected to her hero ; but Howard 
 did not fancy him much : this did not prevent his coming up 
 stairs, upon the first sign she made to him ; and not content 
 with acting the petty tyrant, at an entertainment not made 
 for himself, no sooner had he gained the soft looks of the fail- 
 one, than he exhausted all his common place, and all his stock 
 of low irony, in railing at the entertainment, and ridiculing 
 the music. 
 
 Howard possessed but little raillery, and still less patience : 
 three times was the banquet on the point of being stained with 
 blood ; but three times did he suppress his natural impetuosity, 
 in order to satisfy his resentment elsewhere with greater 
 freedom. 
 
 Jermyn, without paying the least attention to his ill-humour, 
 pursued his point, continued talking to Lady Shrewsbury, and 
 did not leave her until the repast was ended. 
 
 He went to bed, proud of this triumph, and was waked 
 next morning by a challenge : he took, for his second, Giles 
 Rawlings, a man of intrigue, and a deep player. Ho ward 
 took Dillon, who was dexterous and brave, much of a gentle- 
 man, and, unfortunately, an intimate friend to Rawlings. 
 
 In this duel fortune did not side with the votaries of love : 
 poor Rawlings was left stone dead ; and Jermyn, having 
 received three wounds, was carried to his uncle's, with very 
 little signs of life.
 
 COUM' GRAMMONT. 121 
 
 While the report of this event engaged the courtiers accord- 
 ing to their several interests, the Chevalier de Grammont was 
 informed by Jones, his friend, his confidant, and his rival, 
 that there was another gentleman very attentive to Mrs. Mid- 
 dleton. This was Montagu, 74 no very dangerous rival ou 
 account of his person, but very much to be feared for his 
 assiduity, the acuteness of his wit, and for some other talents, 
 which are of importance, when a man is once permitted to 
 display them. 
 
 There needed not half so much to bring into action all 
 the Chevalier's vivacity, in point of competition : vexation 
 awakened in him whatever expedients the desire of revenge, 
 malice, and experience could suggest, for troubling the designs 
 of a rival, and tormenting a mistress. His first intention was 
 to return her letters, and demand his presents, before he began 
 to teaze her ; but, rejecting this project, as too weak a revenge 
 for the injustice done him, he was upon the point of conspiring 
 the destruction of poor Mrs. Middleton, when, by accident, ho 
 met with Miss Hamilton. From this moment ended all his 
 resentment against Mrs. Middleton, and all his attachment to 
 Miss "Warmestre : no longer was he inconstant : no longer 
 were his wishes fluctuating : this object fixed them all ; and, 
 of all his former habits, none remained, except uneasiness and 
 jealousy. 
 
 Here his first care was to please ; but he very plainly saw, 
 that to succeed, he must act quite in a different manner to 
 thnt which he had been accustomed to. 
 
 The family of the ITamiltons, being very numerous, lived 
 in a large and commodious house near the court: the Duke 
 of Ormond's family was continually with them ; and here 
 persons of the greatest distinction in London constantly met : 
 the Chevalier de Grammont was here received in a manner
 
 ] 22 MEMO1HS OF 
 
 agreeable to his merit and quality, anil was astonished that he 
 had spent so much time in other places ; for, after having 
 made this acquaintance, he was desirous of no other. 
 
 All the world agreed, that Miss Hamilton ' 5 was worthy of 
 the most ardent and sincere affection : nobody could boast a 
 nobler birth, nothing was more charming than her person.
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 123 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE Chevalier de Grammont, never satisfied in his amours, 
 was fortunate without being beloved, and became jealous with- 
 out having an attachment. 
 
 Mrs. Middleton, as we have said, was going to experience 
 what methods he could invent to torment, after having expe- 
 rienced his powers of pleasing. 
 
 He went in search of her to the queen's drawing-room, 
 where there was a ball : there she was ; but fortunately for 
 her, Miss Hamilton was there likewise. It had so happened, 
 that of all the beautiful women at court, this was the lady 
 whom he had least seen, and whom he had heard most com- 
 mended : this, therefore, was the first time that he had a close 
 view of her, and he soon found that he had seen nothing at 
 court before this instant : he asked her some questions, to 
 which she replied : as long as she was dancing, his eyes were 
 fixed upon her; and from this time he no longer resented 
 Mrs. Middleton's conduct. Miss Hamilton was at the happy 
 age when the charms of the fair sex begin to bloom : she had 
 the finest shape, the loveliest neck, and most beautiful arms 
 in the world : she was majestic and graceful in all her move- 
 ments ; and she was the original after which all the ladies 
 copied in their taste and air of dress. Her forehead was 
 open, white, and smooth : her hair was well set, and fell with 
 ease into that natural order which it is so difficult to imitate. 
 Her complexion was possessed of a certain freshness, not to 
 be equalled by borrowed colours : her eyes were not large, 
 but they were lively, and capable of expressing whatever she
 
 124 MEMOIRS OK 
 
 pleased : her mouth was full of graces, and her contour un- 
 commonly perfect: nor was her nose, which was small, deli 
 cute, and turned up, the least ornament of so lovely a face. 
 In fine, her air, her carriage, and the numberless graces dis- 
 persed over her whole person, made the Chevalier de G ram- 
 in ont not doubt, but that she was possessed of every other 
 qualification. Her mind was a proper companion for such a 
 form : she did not endeavour to shine in conversation by those 
 sprightly sallies which only puzzle ; and Avith still greater 
 care she avoided that affected solemnity in her discourse, 
 which produces stupidity ; but, without any eagerness to talk, 
 she just said what she ought, and no more. She had an admi- 
 rable discernment in distinguishing between solid and false 
 wit ; and far from making an ostentatious display of her abi- 
 lities, she was reserved, though very just in her decisions : 
 her sentiments were always noble, and even lofty to the 
 highest extent, when there was occasion : nevertheless, she 
 was less prepossessed with her own merit than is usually the 
 case with those who have so much. Formed, as we have 
 described, she could not fail of commanding love ; but so far 
 was she from courting it, that she was scrupulously nice with 
 respect to those whose merit might entitle them to form any 
 pretensions to her. 
 
 The more the Chevalier de Grammont was convinced of 
 these truths, the more did he endeavour to please and en^a^c 
 
 * A " O ~ 
 
 her in his turn : his entertaining wit, his conversation, lively, 
 easy, and always distinguished by novelty, constantly gained 
 him attention ; but he was much embarrassed to find that pre- 
 sent*, which so easily made their way in his former method 
 of courtship, were no longer proper in the mode which, for 
 the future, he was obliged to pursue. 
 
 He had an old valet-de-chambre, called Termes, a bold 
 thief, and a still more impudent liar: he used to send this
 
 COUNT GUAMMO.NT. 12.) 
 
 man from London every week, on the commissions we have 
 before mentioned ; hut after the disgrace of Mrs. Middleton, 
 and the adventure of Miss Warmestre, Mr. Terrnes was only 
 employed in bringing his master's clothes from Paris, and he 
 did not always acquit himself with the greatest fidelity in that 
 employment, as will appear hereafter. 
 
 The queen was a woman of sense, and used all her endea- 
 vours to please the king, by that kind obliging behaviour 
 which her affection made natural to her : she was particularly 
 attentive in promoting every sort of pleasure- and amusement, 
 especially such as she could be present at herself. 
 
 ^he had contrived, for this purpose, a splendid masquerade 1 , 
 where those, whom she appointed to dance, had to repre- 
 sent different nations : she allowed some time for prepara- 
 tion, during which we may suppose, the tailors, the mantua- 
 makers, and embroiderers were not idle : nor were the beau- 
 ties, who were to be there, less anxiously employed ; however, 
 Miss Hamilton found time enough to invent two or three 
 little tricks, in a conjuncture so favourable, for turning into 
 ridicule the vain fools of the court. There were two who were 
 very eminently such : the one was Lady Muskerry, 76 who had 
 married her cousin-german ; and the other a maid of honour 
 to the duchess, called Blague. 7 ' 
 
 The first, whose husband most assuredly never married her 
 fur beauty, was made like the generality of rich heiresses, to 
 whom just nature seems sparing of her gifts, in proportion as 
 they arc loaded with those of fortune : she had the shape of a 
 woman big with child, without being so; but had a vcrv 
 .coed reason for limping ; for, of two legs uncommonly short, 
 one was much shorter than the other: a face suitable to this 
 description gave the finishing stroke to this disagreeable 
 figure. 
 
 Miss Blague was another species of ridicule : her shape was
 
 126 MEM01KS OF 
 
 neither good nor bad : her countenance bore the appearance 
 of the greatest insipidity, and her complexion was the same 
 all over ; with two little hollow eyes, adorned with white eye- 
 lashes, as long as one's finger. With these attractions she 
 placed herself in ambuscade to surprise unwary hearts ; but 
 she might have done so in vain, had it not been for the arrival 
 of the Marquis de Brisacier. Heaven seemed to have mado 
 them for each other : he had in his person and manners every 
 requisite to dazzle a creature of her character: he talked 
 eternally, without saying any thing, and in his dress ex- 
 ceeded the most extravagant fashions. Miss Blague believed 
 that all this finery was on her account ; and the marquis be- 
 lieved that her long eyelashes had never taken aim at any 
 but himself: every body perceived their inclination for each 
 other : but they had only conversed by mute interpreters, 
 when Miss Hamilton took it into her head to intermeddle in 
 their affairs. 
 
 She was willing to do every thing in order, and therefore 
 began with her cousin Muskerry, on account of her rank. 
 Her two darling foibles were dress and dancing. Magnifi- 
 cence of dress was intolerable with her figure ; and though 
 her dancing was still more insupportable, she never missed a 
 ball at court : and the queen had so much complaisance for 
 the public, as always to make her dance ; but it was impos- 
 sible to give her a part in an entertainment so important and 
 splendid as this masquerade : however, she was dying with 
 impatience for the orders she expected. 
 
 It was in consequence of this impatience, of which 7tli*.s 
 Hamilton was informed, that she founded the design of divert- 
 ing herself at the expense of this silly woman. The queen 
 sent notes to those whom she appointed to be present, and 
 described the manner in which they were to be dressed. Miss 
 Hamilton wrote a note exactly in the same manner to Lady
 
 COUiNT GKAMMO.NT. 127 
 
 Muskerry, with directions for her to he :lressed in the Baby- 
 lonian fashion. 
 
 She assembled her counsel to advise about the means of 
 .-ending it: this cabinet was composed of one of her brothers 
 a sister, who were glad to divert themselves at the ex- 
 pense of those who deserved it. After having consulted some 
 time, they at last resolved upon, a mode of conveying it into 
 her own hands. Lord Muskerry was just going out, when 
 she received it: he was a man of honour, rather serious, very 
 severe, and a mortal enemy to ridicule. His wife's deformity 
 was not so intolerable to him, as the ridiculous figure slu- 
 made upon all occasions. He thought that he was safe in the 
 present case, uot believing that the queen would spoil her 
 masquerade by naming Lady Muskerry as one of the dancers; 
 nevertheless, as he was acquainted with the passion his wife 
 had to expose herself in public, by her dress and dancing, he 
 had just been advising her very seriously to content herself 
 with being a spectator of this entertainment, even though the 
 queen should have the cruelty to engage her in it : he then 
 took the liberty to shew her what little similarity there was 
 between her figure, and that of persons to whom dancing and 
 magnificence in dress were allowable. His sermon concluded 
 at last, by an express prohibition to solicit a place at this en- 
 tertainment, which they had no thoughts of giving her ; but 
 far from taking his advice in good part, she imagined that he 
 was the only person who had prevented the queen from doing 
 her an honour she so ardently desired ; and as soon as he was 
 gone out, her design was to go and throw herself at her Ma- 
 jesty's feet to demand justice. She was in this very dispo- 
 sition when she received the billet ; three times did she kiss 
 it, and without regarding her husband's injunctions, she im- 
 mediately got into her coach in order to get information of the
 
 12S MEM01K> OF 
 
 merchants who traded to the Levant, in what manner the 
 ladies of quality dressed in Babylon. 
 
 The plot laid for Miss Blague was of a different kind : she 
 had such faith in her charms, and was so confident of their 
 effects, that she could believe any thing. Brisacier, whom 
 slie looked upon as desperately smitten, had wit, which he 
 .set off with common-place talk, and with little sonnets : he 
 sung out of tune most methodically, and was continually 
 exerting ono or other of these happy talents : the Duke of 
 Buckingham did all he could to spoil him, by the praises 
 he bestowed both upon his voice and upon his wit. 
 
 Miss Blague, who hardly understood a word of French, 
 regulated herself upon the duke's authority, in admiring the 
 one and the other. It was remarked, that all the words 
 which he sung to her were in praise of fair women, and that 
 always taking this to herself, she cast down her eyes in 
 acknowledgment and consciousness. It was upon these 
 observations they resolved to make a jest of her, the first 
 opportunity. 
 
 While these little projects were forming, the king, who 
 always wished to oblige the Chevalier de Grammont, asked 
 him if he would make one at the masquerade, on condition of 
 being Miss Hamilton's partner ? He did not pretend to dance 
 sufficiently well for an occasion like the present ; yet he was 
 far from refusing the offer : " Sire," said he, " of all the 
 favours you have been pleased to shew me, since my arrival, 
 I feel this more sensibly than any other ; and to convince you 
 of my gratitude, I promise you all the good offices in my 
 power with Miss Stewart." He said this, because they had 
 just given her an apartment separate from the rest of the 
 maids of honour, which made the courtiers begin to pay 
 respect to her. The king was very well pleased at this
 
 COUNT GKAM:.;C;.'T. 120 
 
 pleasantry] and Laving thanked him for so iiece.v-;:: 1 " ;m oiler : 
 " Monsieur le Chevalier," said he, "in what style do you 
 intend to dress yourself for the ball ? I leave you the choice 
 of all countries." " If so," said the Chevalier, " I will dress 
 after the French manner, in order to disguise myself; for 
 they already do me the honour to take me for an Englishman 
 in your city of London. Had it not been for this, I should 
 have wished to have appeared as a Roman ; but for fear of 
 embroiling myself with Prince Rupert," 8 who so warmly 
 espouses the interests of Alexander against Lord Thanet,' 9 
 who declares himself for Caesar, I dare no longer think of 
 :is?uming the hero ; nevertheless, though I may dance awk- 
 wardly, yet, by observing the tune, and with a little alert- 
 ness, I hope to come off pretty well ; besides, Miss Hamilton 
 will take care that too much attention shall not be paid to 
 me. As for my dress, I shall send Termes off to-morrow- 
 morning ; and if I do not shew you at his return the most 
 .splendid habit you have ever seen, look upon mine as the most 
 raced nation in your masquerade." 
 
 Termes set out with ample instructions, on the subject of 
 his journey ; and his master redoubling his impatience on an 
 occasion like the present, before the courier could be landed, 
 began to count the minutes in expectation of his return : thus 
 was he employed, until the very eve of the ball ; and that 
 was the day that Miss Hamilton and her little society had 
 lixed for the execution of their project. 
 
 Martial gloves were then very much in fashion : she had 
 by chance several pairs of them : she sent one to Miss 
 Blairue, accompanied with four yards of yellow riband, the 
 palest she could find, to which she added this note : 
 
 " You were the other day more charming than all the fair 
 women in the world : you looked yesterday still more fair 
 thin you did the day before : if you go on, what will become 
 
 K
 
 130 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of my heart ? But it is a long time since that has been a 
 prey to your pretty little young wild boar's eyes.* Shall 
 you be at the masquerade to-morrow ? But can there be any 
 charms at an entertainment at which you are not present ? 
 It does not signify : I shall know you in whatever disguise 
 you may be : but I shall be better informed of my fate by the 
 present I send you ; you will wear knots of this riband in 
 your hair ; and these gloves will kiss the most beautiful 
 hands in the universe." 
 
 This billet, with the present, were delivered to Miss 
 Blague, with the same success as the other had been conveyed 
 to Lady Muskerry. Miss Hamilton had just received an 
 account of it, when the latter came to pay her a visit : some- 
 thing seemed to possess her thoughts very much ; when, 
 having staid some time, her cousin desired her to walk into 
 her cabinet. As soon as they were there : " I desire your 
 secrecy for what I am going to tell you," said Lady Mus- 
 kerry. " Do not you wonder what strange creatures men 
 are ? Do not trust to them, my dear cousin : my Lord 
 Muskerry, who, before our marriage, could have passed whole 
 days and nights in seeing me dance, thinks proper now to 
 forbid me dancing, and says it does not become rne. This is 
 not all : he has so often rung in my ears the subject of this 
 masquerade, that I am obliged to hide from him the honour 
 the queen has done me, in inviting me to it. However, I 
 am surprised I am not informed who is to be my partner : 
 but if you knew what a plague it is, to find out, in this 
 cursed town, in what manner the people of Babylon dress, 
 you would pity me for what I have suffered since the time I 
 have been appointed : besides, the cost which it puts me to 
 is beyond all imagination." 
 
 Here it was that Miss Hamilton's inclination to laiujh, 
 which had increased in proportion as she endeavoured to
 
 COCVf GHAM-MOST. 131 
 
 suppress it, at length overcame her, and broke out in an 
 immoderate lit. Lady Muskerry took it in good humour, 
 not doubting but that it was the fantastical conduct of her 
 husband that she was laughing at. Miss Hamilton told her, 
 that all husbands were much the same, and that one ought 
 not to be concerned at their whims ; that she did not know 
 who was to be her partner at the masquerade ; but that, as 
 she was named, the gentleman named with her would cer- 
 tainly not fail to attend her; although she could not com- 
 prehend why he had not yet declared himself, unless he like- 
 wise had some fantastical spouse, who had forbid him to 
 dance. 
 
 This conversation being finished, Lady Muskerry went 
 away in great haste, to endeavour to learn some news of her 
 partner. Those who were accomplices in the plot were 
 laughing very heartily at this visit, when Lord Muskerry 
 paid them one in his turn, and taking Miss Hamilton aside : 
 " Do you knew," said he, " whether there is to be any ball 
 in the city to-morrow ?" " No," said she ; " but why do 
 you ask ?" " Because," said he, " I am informed that my wife 
 is making great preparations of dress. I know very well she 
 is not to be at the masquerade : that I have taken care of ; 
 but as the devil is in her for dancing, I am very much afraid 
 that she will be affording some fresh subjsct for ridicule, not- 
 withstanding all my precautions : however, if it was amongst 
 the citizens, at some private party, I should not much 
 mind it." 
 
 They satisfied him as well as they could, and having dis- 
 missed him, under pretence of a thousand things they had to 
 prepare for th? next day, Miss Hamilton thought herself at 
 liberty for that morning, when in came Miss Price, one of 
 the maids of honour to the duchess. 8 ' This was just what 
 she was wishing for: this lady and Miss Blague had been 
 
 K 2
 
 132 MEM'.MK.S OP 
 
 at variance some time, on account of Duncan, 82 whom Miss 
 Price had drawn away from the other ; and hatred still sub- 
 sisted between these two divinities. 
 
 Though the maids of honour were not nominated for the 
 masquerade, yet they were to assist at it : and consequently 
 were to neglect nothing to set themselves off to advantage. 
 Miss Hamilton had still another pair of gloves of the same 
 sort as those she had sent to Miss Blague, which she made 
 a present of to her rival, with a few knots of the same 
 riband, which appeared to have been made on purpose for her, 
 brown as she was. Miss Price returned her a thousand 
 thanks, and promised to do herself the honour of wearing 
 them at the ball. " You will oblige me if you do," said 
 Miss Hamilton, " but if you mention that such a trifle as 
 this comes from me, I shall never forgive you ; but," con- 
 tinued she, " do not go and rob poor Miss Blague of the 
 Marquis Brisacier, as you already have of Duncan : I know 
 very well that it is wholly in your power: you have wit : 
 you speak French ; and were he once to converse with you 
 ever so little, the other could have no pretensions to him." 
 This was enough : Miss Blague was only ridiculous and 
 coquettish : Miss Price was ridiculous, coquettish, and some- 
 thing else besides. 
 
 The day being come, the court, more splendid than ever, 
 exhibited all its magnificence at this masquerade. The com- 
 pany were all met except the Chevalier de Grammont : every- 
 body was astonished that he should be one of the last at such 
 a time, as his readiness was so remarkable on every occasion ; 
 but they were still more surprised, to see him at length appear 
 in an ordinary court-dress, which he had worn before. The 
 thing was preposterous on such an occasion, and very extra- 
 ordinary with respect to him : in vain had he the finest point- 
 lace, with the largest and best powdered peruke imaginable :
 
 coi.vr UUAMMOXT. 133 
 
 his dress, magnificent enough for any other purpose, was uot 
 :it all proper for tins entertainment. 
 
 The king immediately took notice of it : " Chevalier," said 
 he, " Termes is not arrived then?" "Pardon me, Sire," 
 .siid he, "God be thanked:" "Why God be thanked?" 
 said the king; "has any thing happened to him on the 
 read ?" " Sire," said the Chevalier de Graminont, " this is 
 the history of my dress, and of Termes, my messenger. ' At 
 i hose words the ball, ready to begin, was suspended: the 
 dancers making a circle around the Chevalier de Graminont, 
 he continued his story in the following manner : 
 
 " It is now two days since this fellow ought to have been 
 here, according to my orders and his protestations : you may 
 judge of my impatience all this day, when I found he did not 
 come ; at last, after I had heartily cursed him, about an hour 
 ago ho arrived, splashed all over from head to foot, booted up 
 to the waist, and looking as if he had been excommunicated : 
 ' Very well, Mr. Scoundrel,' said I, 'this is just like you ; you 
 must be waited for to the very last minute, and it is a miracle 
 that you aro arrived at all.' 'Yes, faith,' said he, 'it is a miracle. 
 You are always grumbling : I had the finest suit in the world 
 made for you, which the Duke de Guise himself was at the 
 trouble of ordering.' * Give it me, then, scoundrel,' said I. 
 'Sir,' said he, 'if I did not employ a dozen embroiderers upon 
 it, who did nothing but work day and night, I am a rascal : 
 I never left them one moment. 1 ' And where is it, traitor ? ' 
 said I : ' do not stand here prating, while I should be dress- 
 ing.' ' I had,' continued he, 'packed it up, made it tight, and 
 folded it in such a manner that all the rain in the world could 
 never have been able to reach it; and I rid post, day and 
 night, knowing your impatience, and that you were not to be 
 
 trifled with.' ' But where is it ? ' said I. ' Lost, Sir,' said 
 
 he, clasping his hands. ' How ! lost.' said I, in surprise. ' Yes,
 
 134 M:::.:OIKS OF 
 
 lost, perislied, swallowed up : -what car, I say more ? ' ' What, 
 was the packet-boat cast away then ? ' said I. ' Oh ! indeed, 
 Sir, a great deal worse, as you shall see,' answered he : 'I was 
 within half a league of Calais yesterday morning, and I was 
 resolved to go by the seaside, to make greater haste ; but, 
 indeed they say very true, that nothing is like the highway; 
 for I got into a quicksand, where I sunk up to the chin.' 'A 
 quicksand,' said I, 'near Calais?' 'Yes, Sir,' said he, 'and 
 such a quicksand, that, the devil take me, if they saw any 
 thing but the top of my head when they pulled me out : as for 
 my horse, fifteen men could scarce get him out ; but the port- 
 manteau, where I had unfortunately put your clothes, could 
 never be found : it must be at least a league under-ground.' 
 
 " This, Sire," continued the Chevalier de Grammont, " is 
 the adventure, and the relation which this honest gentleman 
 has given me of it. I should certainly have killed him, but I 
 was afraid of making Miss Hamilton wait, and I was desirous 
 of giving your Majesty immediate advice of the quicksand, 
 that your couriers may take care to avoid it." 
 
 The king was ready to split his sides with laughing, when 
 the Chevalier de Grammont, resuming the discourse, "Apropos, 
 Sire," said he, " I had forgot to tell you, that to increase my ill 
 humour, I was stopped, as I was getting out of my chair, by 
 the devil of a phantom in masquerade, who would by all means 
 persuade me, that the queen had commanded me to dance with 
 her; and, as I excused myself with the least rudeness possible, 
 she charged me to find out who was to be her partner, and 
 desired me to send him to her immediately : so that your Ma- 
 jesty will do well to give orders about it ; for she has placed 
 herself in ambush in a coach, to seize upon all those who pass 
 through Whitehall. However, I must tell you, that it is 
 worth while to see her dress ; for she must have at least sixty 
 ells of gauze and silver tissue about her, not to mention a sort
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 135 
 
 of a pyramid upon her head, adorned -with a hundred thousand 
 baubles." 
 
 This last account surprised all the assembly, except those 
 who had a share in the plot* The queen assured them that 
 all she had appointed for the ball were present ; and the king, 
 having paused some minutes : " I bet," said he, " that it is the 
 Duchess of Newcastle." 83 "And I," said Lord Muskerry, 
 coming up to Miss Hamilton, " will bet it is another fool ; for 
 I am very much mistaken if it is not my wife." 
 
 The king was for sending to know who it was. and to bring 
 her in : Lord Muskerry offered himself for that service, for 
 the reason already mentioned ; and it was very well he did so. 
 Miss Hamilton was not sorry for this, knowing very well that 
 he was not mistaken in his conjecture : the jest would hare 
 gone much farther than she intended, if the princess of Baby- 
 lon had appeared in all her glory. 
 
 The ball was not very well executed, if one may be allowed 
 the expression, so long as they danced only slow dances ; and 
 yet there were as good dancers, and as beautiful women in this 
 assembly, as were to be found in the whole world : but as 
 their number was not great, they left the French, and went to 
 country dances. When they had danced some time, the king 
 thought fit to introduce his auxiliaries, to give the others a little 
 respite : the queen's and the duchess's maids of honour were 
 therefore called in to dance with the gentlemen. 
 
 Then it was that they were at leisure to take notice of Miss 
 Blague, and they found that the billet they had conveyed to 
 her on the part of Brisacier had its effect : she was more yel- 
 low than saffron : her hair was stuffed with the citrou-coloured 
 riband, which she had put there out of complaisance ; and, 
 to inform Brisacier of his fate, she raised often ic her head 
 her victorious hands, adorned with the gloves we have before 
 mentioned : but, if they were surprised to see her in a head
 
 dress that made her look more wan than ever, she wus very 
 differently surprised to see Miss Price partake with her in every 
 particular of Brisacier's present : her surprise soon turned to 
 jealousy ; for her rival had not failed to join in conversation 
 \vith him, on account of what had been insinuated to her the 
 evening before ; nor did Brisacier fail to return her first ad- 
 vances, without paying the least attention to the fair Blague, 
 nor to the signs which she was tormenting herself to make 
 him, to inform him of his happy destiny. 
 
 Miss Price was short and thick, and consequently no 
 dancer : the Duke of Buckingham, who brought Brisacier 
 forward as often as he could, came to desire him, on the part 
 of the king, to dance with Miss Blague, without knowing 
 what was then passing in this nymph's heart : Brisacier ex- 
 cused himself, on account of the contempt that he had for 
 country dances : Miss Blague thought that it was herself that 
 he despised ; and, seeing that he was engaged in conversation 
 with her mortal enemy, she began to dance, without knowing 
 what she was doing. Though her indignation and jealousy 
 were sufficiently remarkable to divert the court, none but 
 Miss Hamilton and her accomplices understood the joke per- 
 fectly: their pleasure was quite complete; for Lord Mus- 
 kerry returned, still more confounded at the vision, of which 
 the Chevalier de Grammont had given the description : he 
 acquainted Miss Hamilton, that it was Lady Muskerry her- 
 self, a thousand times more ridiculous than she had ever been 
 before, and that he had had an immense trouble to get her 
 home, and place a sentry at her chamber door. 
 
 The reader may think, perhaps, that we have dwelt too 
 long on these trifling incidents ; perhaps he may be right : we 
 will, therefore, pass to others. 
 
 Every tiling favoured the Chevalier de Grammont in the 
 new passion which he entertained : he was not, however,
 
 COUXT GUAM MOM. 137 
 
 without rivals ; but, what is a great deal more extraordinary, 
 he was without uneasiness : he was acquainted with their un- 
 derstandings, and no stranger to Miss Hamilton's way of 
 thinking. 
 
 Among her lovers, the most considerable, though the least 
 professedly so, was the Duke of York : it was in vain for 
 him to conceal it, the court was too well acquainted with his 
 character to doubt of his inclinations for her : he did not think 
 it proper to declare such sentiments as were not fit for Miss 
 Hamilton to hear ; but he talked to her as much as he could, 
 and ogled her with great assiduity. As hunting was his 
 favourite diversion, that sport employed him one part of the 
 day, and he came home generally much fatigued; but Miss 
 Hamilton's presence revived him, when he found her either 
 with the queen or the duchess : there it was that, not daring 
 to tell her of what lay heavy on his heart, he entertained her 
 with what he had in his head ; telling her miracles of the 
 cunning of foxes and the mettle of horses ; giving her accounts 
 of broken legs and arms, dislocated shoulders, and other curi- 
 ous and entertaining adventures ; after which, his eyes told 
 her the rest, till such time as sleep interrupted their conver- 
 sation ; for these tender interpreters could not help sometimes 
 composing themselves in the midst of their ogling. 
 
 The duchess was not at all alarmed at a passion which her 
 rival was far from thinking sincere, and with which she used 
 to divert herself, as far as respect would admit her : on the 
 contrary, as her highness had an affection and esteem for Miss 
 Hamilton, she never treated her more graciously than on the 
 present occasion. 
 
 The two Russells, uncle M and nephew, 85 were two other of 
 the Chevalier de Grammont's rivals : the uncle was full seven- 
 ty, and had distinguished himself by his courage and fidelity 
 in the civil wars : his passions and intentions, with regard to
 
 138 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Miss Hamilton, appeared both at onco; but his magnificence 
 only appeared by halves in those gallantries which love in- 
 spires. It was not long siuoe the fashion of high-crowned 
 hats had been left off, in order to fall into the other extreme : 
 old Russell, amazed at so terrible a change, resolved to keep a 
 medium, which made him remarkable : he was still more so, 
 by his constancy for cut doublets, which he supported a long 
 time after they had been universally suppressed ; but, what 
 was more surprising than all, was a certain mixture of avarice 
 and liberality, constantly at war with each other, ever since 
 he had entered the lists with love. 
 
 His nephew was only of a younger brother's family, but 
 was considered as his uncle's heir ; and though he was under 
 the necessity of attending to his uncle for an establishment, 
 and still more so of humouring him, in order to get his estate, 
 he could not avoid his fate. Mrs. Middleton shewed him a 
 sufficient degree of preference ; but her favours could not 
 secure him from the charms of Miss Hamilton : his person 
 would have had nothing disagreeable in it, If he had but left 
 it to nature ; but he was formal in all his actions, and silent 
 even to stupidity ; and yet rather more tiresome when he did 
 speak. 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont, very much at his ease in all 
 these competitions, engaged himself more and more in his 
 passion, without forming other designs, or conceiving other 
 hopes, than to render himself agreeable : though his passion 
 was openly declared, no person at court regarded it otherwise 
 than as a habit of gallantry, which goes no farther than to do 
 justice to merit. 
 
 His monitor, Saint Evremond, was quite of a different 
 opinion ; and finding, that, besides an immense increase of 
 magnificence and assiduity, he regretted those hours which he 
 bestowed on play ; that he no longer sought after those long
 
 COUNT GBAMMONT. 139 
 
 and agreeafre conversations they used to have together; and 
 that this new attachment everywhere robbed him of himself. 
 " Monsieur le Chevalier," said he, " methinks that for some 
 time you have left the town beauties and their lovers in per- 
 fect repose : Mrs. Middleton makes fresh conquests with im- 
 punity, and wears your presents, under your nose, without 
 your taking the smallest notice : poor Miss TVarmestre has 
 been very quietly brought to bed in the midst of the court, 
 without your having even said a word about it : I foresaw it 
 plain enough, Monsieur le Chevalier, you have got acquainted 
 with Miss Hamilton, and, what has never before happened to 
 you, you are really in love ; but let us consider a little what 
 may be the consequence. In the first place, then, I believe, 
 you have not the least intention of seducing her : such is her 
 birth and merit, that if you were in possession of the estate 
 and title of your family, it might be excusable in you to offer 
 yourself upon honourable terms, however ridiculous marriage 
 may be in general ; for, if you only wish for wit, prudence, 
 and the treasures of beauty, you could not pay your addresses 
 to a more proper person : but for you, who possess only a very 
 moderate share of those of fortune, you cannot pay your ad- 
 dresses more improperly. 
 
 " For your brother Toulongeon, whose disposition I am 
 acquainted with, will not have the complaisance to die, to 
 favour your pretensions : but suppose you had a competent 
 fortune for you both, and that is supposing a good deal, are you 
 acquainted with the delicacy, not to say capriciousness, of this 
 fair one about such an engagement ? Do you know that she 
 has had the choice of the best matches in England ? The Duke 
 of Richmond paid his addresses to her first ; but though he 
 was in love with her, still he was mercenary : however, the 
 king, observing that want of fortune was the only impediment 
 to the match, took that article upon himself, out of regard to
 
 140 
 
 MEMOIKS OF 
 
 the Duke of Ormond, to the merit and birth of Miss Hamil- 
 ton, and to her father's services; but, resenting that a man 
 who pretended to be in love should bargain like a merchant, 
 and likewise reflecting upon his character in the world, she 
 did not think that being duchess of Richmond was a sufficient 
 recompense for the danger that was to be feared from a brute 
 and a debauchee. 
 
 " Has not little Jermyn, notwithstanding his uncle's great 
 estate and his own brilliant reputation, failed in his suit to 
 her ? And has she ever so much as vouchsafed to look at 
 Henry Howard, 86 who is upon the point of being the first, 
 duke in England, and who is already in actual possession of 
 all the estates of the house of Norfolk ? I confess that he is a 
 clown ; but what other lady in all England would not have 
 dispensed with his stupidity, and his disagreeable person, to 
 !>e the first duchess in the kingdom, with twenty-five thousand 
 :; year ? 
 
 " To conclude ; Lord Falmouth has told me himself, that 
 foe has always looked upon her as the only acquisition want- 
 ing to complete his happiness; but that, even at the height of 
 the splendour of his fortune, he never had had the assurance 
 to open his sentiments to her ; that he either felt in himself 
 too much weakness, or too much pride, to be satisfied with 
 obtaining her solely by the persuasion of her relations ; and 
 that, though the first refusals of the fair on such occasions are 
 not much minded, he knew with what an air she had received 
 the addresses of those whose persons she did not like. After 
 this, Monsieur le Chevalier, consider what method you intend 
 to pursue ; for, if you are in love, the passion will still increase, 
 and the greater the attachment, the less capable will you be 
 of making those serious reflections that are now in your 
 power." 
 
 " My poor philosopher." answered the Chevalier de Gram-
 
 COUNT GUAMMo.vr. 141 
 
 incnt, ' you understand Latin very well, you can make good 
 verses, you understand the course, and are acquainted with 
 the nature of the stars in the firmament ; but, as for the lumi- 
 naries of the terrestrial globe, you are utterly unacquainted 
 with them ; you have told me nothing about Miss Hamilton, 
 but what the king told me three days ago. That she has re- 
 fused the savages you have mentioned is all in her favour : if 
 she had admitted their addresses, I would have had nothing 
 to say to her, though I love her to distraction. Attend now to 
 what I am going to say ; I am resolved to marry her, and I 
 will have my tutor Saint Evremond himself to be the first man 
 to commend me for it. As for an establishment, I shall make 
 iny peace with the king, and will solicit him to make her one 
 of the ladies of the bedchamber to the queen ; this he will 
 grant me. Toulongeon 87 will die, without my assistance, and 
 notwithstanding all his care; and Miss Hamilton will have 
 S^meat, 85 with the Chevalier de Grammont, as an indemnifi- 
 cation for the Norfolks and Richmonds. Now, have you 
 any thing to advance against this project ? For I will bet you 
 a hundred louis, that every thing will happen as I have 
 foretold it." ^ 
 
 At this time the king's attachment to Miss Stewart was so 
 public, that every person perceived, that if she was but pos- 
 i.l of art, she might become as absolute a mistress over his 
 conduct as she was over his heart. This was a fine oppor- 
 tunity for those who had experience and ambition. The Duke 
 of Buckingham formed the design of governing her in order 
 to ingratiate himself with the king ; God knows what a go- 
 vernor he would have been, and what a head he was possessed 
 of, to guide another; however, he was the properest man in 
 tiie world to insinuate himself with Miss Stewart ; she was 
 childish in her behaviour, and laughed at every thing, and her 
 taste for frivolous amusement.*, though unaffected, was only
 
 142 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 allowable in a girl about twelve or thirteen years old. A 
 child, however, she was, in every other respect, except play- 
 ing with a doll ; blind-man's buff was her most favourite 
 amusement ; she was building castles of cards, while the deep- 
 est play was going on in her apartments, where you saw her 
 surrounded by eager courtiers, who handed her the cards, or 
 young architects, who endeavoured to imitate her. 
 
 She had, however, a passion for music, and had some taste 
 for singing. The Duke of Buckingham, who built the finest 
 towers of cards imaginable, had an agreeable voice : she had 
 no aversion to scandal ; and the duke was both the father and 
 the mother of scandal; he made songs, and invented old 
 women's stories with which she was delighted ; but his parti- 
 cular talent consisted in turning into ridicule whatever was 
 ridiculous in other people, and in taking them off, even in 
 their presence, without their perceiving it. In short, he knew 
 how to act all parts, with so much grace and pleasantry, that 
 it was difficult to do without him, when he had a mind to 
 make himself agreeable ; and he made himself so necessary to 
 Miss Stewart's amusement, that she sent all over the town to 
 seek for him, when he did not attend thq&king to her apart- 
 ments. 
 
 He was extremely handsome, 89 and still thought himselt 
 much more so than he really was ; although he had a great 
 deal of discernment, yet his vanity made him mistake some 
 civilities as intended for his person, which were only bestowed 
 on hia wit and drollery. In short, being seduced by too good 
 an opinion of his own merit, he forgot his first project and his 
 Portuguese mistress, in order to pursue a fancy in which he 
 mistook himself; for he no sooner began to act a serious part 
 with Miss Stewart, than he met with so severe a repulse, that 
 he abandoned, at once, all his designs upon her ; however, 
 the familiarity she had procured him with the king opened
 
 COUNT GRAMMOMT. 143 
 
 the way to those favours to which he was afterwards ad- 
 vanced. 
 
 Lord Arlington 90 took up the project which the Duke of 
 Buckingham had abandoned, and endeavoured to gain posses- 
 sion of the mind of the mistress, in order to govern the mas- 
 ter. A man of greater merit and higher birth than himself 
 might, however, have been satisfied with the fortune he had 
 already acquired. His first negotiations were during the 
 treaty of the Pyrenees ; and though he was unsuccessful in 
 his proceedings for his employer, yet he did not altogether 
 lose his time ; for he perfectly acquired, in his exterior, the 
 serious air and profound gravity of the Spaniards, and imi- 
 tated pretty well their tardiness in business; he had a scar 
 across his nose, which was covered by a long patch, or, rather, 
 by a small plaster, in form of a lozenge. 
 
 Scars in the face commonly give a man a certain fierce and 
 martial air, which sets him off to advantage ; but it was quite 
 the contrary with him, and this remarkable plaster so well 
 suited his mysterious looks, that it seemed an addition to his 
 gravity and self-sufficiency. 
 
 Arlington, under the mask of this compound countenance, 
 where great earnestness passed for business, and impenetrable 
 stupidity for secrecy, had given himself the character of a 
 great politician ; and no one having leisure to examine him, 
 he was taken at his word, and had been made minister and 
 secretary of state, upon the credit of his own importance. 
 
 His ambition soaring still above these high stations, after 
 having provided himself with a great number of fine maxims, 
 and some historical anecdotes, he obtained an audience of Miss 
 Stewart, in order to display them ; at the same time offering 
 her his most humble services, and best advice, to assist her in 
 conducting herself in the situation to which it had pleased 
 God, and her virtue, to raise her. But he was only in the
 
 144 .VL;;.MO:I;.S 01- 
 
 preface of his speech, when she recollected that he was at the 
 head of those whom the Duke of Buckingham used t<> 
 mimic ; and as his presence and his language exactly revived 
 the ridiculous ideas that had been given her of him, she 
 could not forbear bursting out into a fit of laughter in his 
 face, so much the more violent as she had for a long time 
 struggled to suppress it. 
 
 The minister was enraged : his pride became his post, u:;d 
 his punctilious behaviour merited all the ridicule which could 
 be attached to it : he quitted her abruptly, with all the fine 
 advice he had prepared for her, and was almost tempted to 
 carry it to Lady Castlemaine, and to unite himself with her 
 interests ; or immediately to quit the court party, and declaim 
 freely in parliament against the grievances of the state, and 
 particularly to propose an act to forbid the keeping of mis- 
 tresses ; but his prudence conquered his resentments ; and 
 thinking only how to enjoy with pleasure the blessings of 
 fortune, he sent to Holland for a wife, in order to complete 
 his felicity. 91 
 
 Hamilton 92 was, of all the courtiers, the best qualified to 
 succeed in an enterprise in which the Duke of Buckingham 
 and Lord Arlington had miscarried : he was thinking upon 
 it ; but his natural coquetry traversed his intentions, and made 
 him neglect the most advantageous prospects in the world, 
 iu order unnecessarily to attend to the advances and allure- 
 ments thrown out to him by the Countess of Chesterfield. 
 This was one of the most agreeable women in the world : 
 she had a most exquisite shape, though she was not very tall: 
 her complexion was extremely fair, with ali the expressive 
 charms of a brunette : she had large blue eyes, very tempting 
 and alluring: her manners were engaging: her wit lively 
 and amusing ; but her heart, ever open to tender sentiment**, 
 was neither scrupulous in point of con.sta.nev, nor nice i:s
 
 COUNT GUAMMONT. 145 
 
 point of sincerity. She was daughter to the Duke of Or- 
 mond, P3 and Hamilton, being her cousin-german, they 
 niiir'nt bo as much as they pleased in each other's company 
 without being particular ; but as soon as her eyes gave him 
 some encouragement, he entertained no other thoughts than 
 how to please her, without considering her fickleness, or the 
 obstacles he had to encounter. His intention, which we 
 mentioned before, of establishing himself in the confidence 
 of Miss Stewart, no longer occupied his thoughts : she now 
 was of opinion that she was capable of being the mistress of 
 her own conduct : she had done all that was necessary to 
 inflame the king's passions, without exposing her virtue by 
 granting the last favours; but the eagerness of a passionate 
 lover, blessed with favourable opportunities, is difficult to 
 withstand, and still more difficult to vanquish ; and Miss 
 Stewart's virtue was almost exhausted, when the queen was 
 attacked with a violent fever, which soon reduced her to 
 extreme danger. 
 
 Then it was that Miss Stewart was greatly pleased with 
 herself for the resistance she had made, though she had paid 
 dearly for it : a thousand flattering hopes of greatness and 
 glory filled her heart, and the additional respect that was 
 universally paid her contributed not a little to increase them. 
 The queen was given over by her physicians: 94 the few 
 Portuguese women, that had not beeu sent back to their own 
 country, filled the court with doleful cries ; and the good 
 nature of the king was much affected with the situation in 
 which he saw a princess, whom, though he did not love her, 
 yet he greatly esteemed. She loved him tenderly, and 
 thinking that it was the last time she should ever speak to 
 him, she told him, " That the concern he shewed for her 
 death was enough to make her quit life with regret ; but
 
 146 MEMOiRS OP 
 
 that not possessing charms sufficient to merit his tenderness, 
 she had at least the consolation in dying to give place to a 
 consort, who might be more worthy of it, and to whom heaven, 
 perhaps, might grant a blessing that had been refused to 
 her." At these words, she bathed his hands with some tears, 
 which he thought would be her last: he mingled his own 
 with hers ; and without supposing she would take him at 
 his word, he conjured her to live for his sake. She had 
 never yet disobeyed him ; and, however dangerous sudden 
 impulses may be, when one is between life and death, this 
 transport of joy, which might have proved fatal to her, 
 saved her life, and the king's wonderful tenderness had an 
 effect, for which every person did not thank heaven in the 
 same manner. 
 
 Jermyn had now for some time been recovered of his 
 wounds : however, Lady Castlemaine, finding his health in 
 as deplorable a condition as ever, resolved to regain the king's 
 heart, but in vain : for notwithstanding the softness of her 
 tears, and the violence of her passions, Miss Stewart wholly 
 possessed it. During this period the court was variously 
 entertained : sometimes there were promenades, and at others 
 the court beauties sallied out on horseback, and to make 
 attacks with their charms and graces, sometimes successfully, 
 sometimes otherwise, but always to the best of their abilities : 
 at other seasons there were such shows on the river, as the 
 city of London alone can afford. 
 
 The Thames washes the sides of a large though not a mag- 
 nificent palace of the kings of Great Britain : M from the 
 stairs of this palace the court used to take water, in the 
 sunimei evenings, when the heat and dust prevented their 
 walking in the park : an infinite number of open boats, 
 filled with the court and city beauties, attended the barges,
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 1 47 
 
 in which were the royal family : collations, music, and 
 fireworks completed the scene. The Chevalier de Gram- 
 Kiont always made one of the company, and it was very 
 seldom that he did not add something of his own invention, 
 agreeahly to surprise by some unexpected stroke of magnifi- 
 cence and gallantry. Sometimes he had complete concerts of 
 vocal and instrumental music, which he privately brought 
 from Paris, and which struck up on a sudden in the midst 
 of these parties : sometimes he gave banquets, which like- 
 wise came from France, and which, even in the midst of 
 London, surpassed the king's collations. These entertain- 
 ments sometimes exceeded, at others fell short of his expec- 
 tations, but they always coot him an immense deal of money. 
 Lord Fahnouth was one of those who had the greatest 
 friendship and esteem for the Chevalier de Grammont: this 
 profusion gave him concern, and as he often used to go and 
 sup with him without ceremony, one day finding only Saint 
 Evremond there, and a supper fit for half a do/en guests, 
 who had been invited in form : " You must not," said he, 
 addressing himself to the Chevalier de Grammont, " be obliged 
 to me for this visit : I come from the king's couchcr, where 
 all the discourse was about you ; and I can assure you that 
 the manner in which the king spoke of you could not afford 
 you so much pleasure as I myself felt upon the occasion. 
 You know very well, that he has long since offered you his 
 good offices with the king of France ; and for my own part," 
 continued he, smiling, "you know very well that I would 
 solicit him so to do, if it was not through fear of losing you 
 as soon as your peace is made ; but, thanks to Miss Hamilton, 
 you are in no great haste : however, I am ordered by the 
 king my master to acquaint you, that while you remain here, 
 until you are restored to the favour of your sovereign, he 
 L 2
 
 148 MK.VOIR.S OF 
 
 ])resents you with a pension of fifteen hundred Jacobus's: it 
 is indeed a trifle, considering the figure the Chevalier de 
 Gramiuout makes among us; but it will assist him," said he, 
 embracing him, " to give us sometimes a supper." 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont received, as he ought, the 
 offer of a favour he did not think proper to accept: "I 
 acknowledge," said he, " the king's bounty in this proposal, 
 but I am still more sensible of Lord Falmouth's generosity 
 in it ; and I request him to assure his Majesty of my perfect 
 gratitude : the king my master will not suffer me to want, 
 when he thinks fit to recall me ; and while I continue here, 
 I will let you see that I have wherewithal to give my Eng- 
 lish friends now and then a supper." 
 
 At these words, he called for his strong box, and shewed 
 him seven or eight thousand guineas in solid gold. Lord 
 Falmouth, willing to improve to the Chevalier's advantage 
 the refusal of so advantageous an offer, gave Monsieur de 
 Comminge, 96 then ambassador at the English court, an 
 account of it; nor did Monsieur de Comminge fail to re- 
 present properly the merit of such a refusal to the French 
 court. 
 
 Hyde Park, every one knows, is the promenade of Lon- 
 don; 97 nothing was so much in fashion, during the fine wea- 
 ther, as that promenade, which was the rendezvous of mag- 
 nificence and beauty : every one, therefore, who had either 
 sparkling eyes, or a splendid equipage, constantly repaired 
 thither, and the king seemed pleased with the place. 
 
 Coaches with glasses 98 were then a late invention : the 
 ladies were afraid of being shut up in them: they greatly 
 preferred the pleasure of shewing almost their whole persons, 
 to the conveniences of modern coaches : that which was made 
 for the king not being remarkable for its elegance, the Che-
 
 cer.vr GRAMMONT. 149 
 
 valier de Grammont was of opinion that something ingenious 
 might be invented, which should partake of the ancient 
 fashion, and likewise prove preferable to the modern ; he 
 therefore sent away Tennes privately with all the necessary 
 instructions to Paris: the Duke of Guise was likewise 
 charged with this commission ; and the courier, having by 
 the favour of Providence escaped the quicksand, in a 
 month's time brought safely over to England the most ele- 
 gant and magnificent cahosh that had ever been seen, which 
 the Chevalier presented to the king. 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont had given orders, that fifteen 
 hundred louis should be expended upon it ; but the Duke of 
 Guise, who was his friend, to oblige him, laid out two thousand. 
 All the court was in admiration at the magnificence of the pre- 
 sent ; and the king, charmed with the Chevalier's attention to 
 every thing which could afford him pleasure, failed not to ac- 
 knowledge it : he would not, however, accept a present of so 
 much value, but upon condition that the Chevalier should not 
 refuse another from him. 
 
 The queen, imagining that so splendid a carriage might 
 prove fortunate for her, wished to appear in it first, with the 
 Duchess of York. Lady Castlemaine, who had seen them 
 in it, thinking that it set off a fine figure to greater advan- 
 tage than any other, desired the king to lend her this wonder- 
 ful calash to appear in it the first fine day in Hyde Park. 
 Miss Stewart had the same wish, and requested to have it on 
 the same day. As it wao impossible to reconcile these two 
 goddesses, whose former union was turned into mortal hatred, 
 the king was very much perplexed. 
 
 Lady Castlemaine was with child, and threatened to mis- 
 carry, if her rival was preferred. Miss Stewart threatened 
 that she never would be with child, if her request was not
 
 150 MEMOIHS Ol' 
 
 granted : this menace prevailed, and Lndj Castlemaine's 
 rage was so great, that slie liad almost kept her word ; and 
 it was believed that this triumph cost her rival some of her 
 innocence. 
 
 The queen dowager, who, though she had no share in the. c .^ 
 broils, Lad no objection to them, and as usual being diverte ! 
 with this circumstance, she took occasion to joke with tlio 
 Chevalier de Grammont, for having thrown this bone oi' 
 contention among such competitors ; and did not fail to give 
 him, in the presence of the whole court, those praises which 
 so magnificent a present deserved : " But how comes it," said 
 she, " that you have no equipage yourself, though you are 
 at so great an expense ? for I am told that you do not keep 
 even a single footman, and that one of the common runners 
 in the streets lights you home with a stinking link." 
 " Madam," said he, " the Chevalier de Grammont hates 
 pomp : my link-boy, of whom you speak, is faithful to my 
 service ; and besides, he is one of the bravest fellows in the 
 world. Your Majesty is unacquainted with the nation of 
 link-boys : it is a charming one, I can assure you : a man 
 cannot step out in the night without being surrounded by a 
 dozen of them. The first time I became acquainted with 
 them, I retained all that offered me their services ; so that 
 when I arrived at Whitehall, I had at least two hundred 
 about my chair. The sight was new ; for those who had 
 seen me pass with this illumination, asked whose funeral it 
 was. These gentlemen, however, began fighting about some 
 dozen shillings I had thrown among them then ; and he 
 whom your Majesty mentions having beaten three or four of 
 his companions, I retained him for his valour. As for the 
 parade of coaches and footmen, I despise it : I have some- 
 times had five or six valets-de-chambre at once, without
 
 COUXT GRAMMONT. 151 
 
 having a single servant in livery, except my chaplain Pous- 
 satin." " How !" said the queen, bursting out a laughing, 
 "a chaplain in your livery! he surely was not a priest?" 
 " Pardon me, Madam," said he, " and the first priest in the 
 world for dancing the Biscayan jig." "Chevalier," said 
 the king, " pray tell us the history of your chaplain Pous- 
 satin."
 
 152 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "Sm," said the Chevalier do Grammont, the Prince do 
 Conde besieged Lerida ;" the place in itself was nothing ; but 
 Don Gregorio Brice, who defended it, was something. He 
 was one of those Spaniards of the old stamp, as valiant as the 
 Cid, as proud as all the Guzraans put together, and more gal- 
 lant than all the Abencerrages of Grenada : he suffered us to 
 make our first approaches to the place, without the least mo- 
 lestation. The Marshal de Grammont, 100 whose maxim it 
 was, that a governor who at first makes a great blustering, 
 and burns his suburbs in order to make a noble defence, gene- 
 rally makes a very bad one, looked upon Gregorio de Brice's 
 politeness as no good omen for us ; but the prince, covered with 
 glory, and elated with the campaigns of Rocroy, Norlingucn, 
 and Fribourg, to insult both the place and the governor, or- 
 dered the trenches to be mounted at noon-day by his own 
 regiment, at the head of which marched four-and-twenty 
 fiddlers, as if it had been to a wedding. 
 
 " Night approaching, we were all in high spirits : our vio- 
 lins were playing soft airs, and we were comfortably regaling 
 ourselves : God knows how we were joking about the poor 
 governor and his fortifications, both of which we promised 
 ourselves to take in less than twenty-four hours. This was 
 going on in the trenches, when we heard an ominous cry from 
 the ramparts, repeated two or three times, of ' Alerte on the 
 walls !' This cry was followed by a discharge of cannon and 
 musketry, and this discharge by a vigorous sally, which, after
 
 COUNT GRAMMOXT. 153 
 
 having filled up the trenches, pursued us as far as our grand 
 guard. 
 
 " The next day, Gregorio Brice sent by a trumpet a present 
 of ice and fruit to the Prince de Conde", humbly beseeching his 
 highness to excuse his not returning the serenade which he 
 was pleased to favour him with, as unfortunately he had no 
 violins ; but that, if the music of last night was not disagree- 
 able to him, he would endeavour to continue it as long as he 
 did him the honour to remain before the place. The Spaniard 
 was as good as his word ; and as soon as we heard ' Alerte 
 on the walls,' we were sure of a sally, that cleared our trenches, 
 destroyed our works, and killed the best of our officers and 
 soldiers. The prince was so piqued at it, that, contrary to 
 the opinion of the general officers, he obstinately persisted in 
 carrying on a siege, which was like to ruin his army, and 
 which he was at last forced to quit in a hurry. 
 
 " As our troops were retiring, Don Gregorio, far from 
 giving himself those airs which governors generally do on such 
 occasions, made no other sally than sending a respectful com- 
 pliment to the prince. Signor Brice set out not long after for 
 Madrid, to give an account of his conduct, and to receive the 
 recompense he had merited. Your Majesty, perhaps, will be 
 desirous to know what reception poor Brice met with, after 
 having performed the most brilliant action the Spaniards could 
 boast of in all the war he was confined by the Inquisition." 
 
 " How ! " said the queen dowager, " confined by the Inqui- 
 sition for his services ! " " Not altogether for his services," 
 said the Chevalier ; " but, without any regard to his services, 
 he was treated in the manner I have mentioned, for a little 
 affair of gallantry, which I shall relate to the king presently. 
 
 " The campaign of Catalonia being thus ended, we wer( 
 returning home, not overloaded with laurels ; but, as the
 
 154 
 
 Prince de Cond^ had laid up a great store on furmc-r occasions, 
 and as hs had still great projects in bis head, he soon forgot 
 this trifling misfortune : we did nothing but joke with one 
 another during the march, and the prince was the first to ridi- 
 cule the siege : we made some of those rhymes on Lerida, 
 which -vere sung all over France, in order to prevent others 
 more severe ; however, we gained nothing by it, for notwith- 
 standing we treated ourselves freely in our own ballads, others 
 were composed in Paris, in which we were ten times more 
 severely handled. At last we arrived at Perpignan upon a 
 holy-day: a company of Catalans, who were dancing in the mid- 
 dle of the street, out of respect to the prince came to dance 
 under his windows : Monsieur Poussatin, in a littleblack jacket, 
 danced in the middle of this company as if he was really mad: 
 I immediately recogn'zed him for my countryman from his 
 manner of skipping and frisking about : the prince was charmed 
 with his humour and activity. After the dance, I sent for 
 him, and inquired who he was. ' A poor priest, at your service, 
 my lord,' said he : * my name is Poussatin, and Beam is my 
 native country : I was going into Catalonia to serve in the 
 infantry, for, God be praised, I can march very well on foot ; 
 but, since the war is happily concluded, if your lordship 
 pleases to take me into your service, I would follow you every- 
 where, and serve you faithfully.' ' Monsieur Poussatiu,' said 
 I, * my lordship has no great occasion for a chaplain ; but since 
 you are so well disposed towards me, I will take you into my 
 service.' 
 
 " The Prince de Conde", who was present at this conversa- 
 tion, was overjoyed at my having a chaplain. As poor Pous- 
 satin was in a very battered condition, I had no time to pro- 
 vide him with a proper haoit at Perpignan; but giving him a 
 spare iivery of one of the Marshal de Grammont's servants, I
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 355 
 
 made him get up behind the prince's coach, who was like to 
 die with laughing every lime he looked at poor Poussatin's 
 uncanonical mien in a yellow livery. 
 
 " As soon as we arrived at Paris, the story was told to the 
 ojeen, who at first expressed some surprise at it: this, how- 
 ever, did not prevent her from wishing to see my chaplain 
 dance ; for in Spain it is not altogether so strange to see eccle- 
 siastics dance, as to see them in livery. 
 
 " Poussatin performed wonders before the queen ; but as 
 he danced with great sprightliness, she could not bear the 
 odour which his violent motions diffused around her room : 
 the ladies likewise began to pray for relief; for he had almost 
 entirely got the better of all the perfumes and essences with 
 which they were fortified : Poussatin, nevertheless, retired 
 with a great deal of applause, and some louis d'or. 
 
 " Some time afterwards I procured a small benefice in the 
 country for my chaplain, and I have since been informed that 
 Poussatin preached with the same case in his village, as he 
 danced at the wedding of his parishioners." 
 
 The king was exceedingly diverted at Poussatin's history; 
 and the queen was not much hurt at his having been put in 
 livery : the treatment of Gregorio Brice offended her far 
 more; and being desirous to justify the court of Spain, with 
 respect to so cruel a proceeding : " Chevalier de Grammont," 
 said she, " what heresy did Governor Brice wish to introduce 
 into the state ? What crime against religion was he charged 
 with, that he was confined in the Inquisition?" " Madam," 
 said he, " the history is not very proper to be related before 
 your majesty : it was a little amorous frolic, ill-timed, indeed; 
 but poor Brice meant no harm : a schoolboy would not have 
 been whipped for such a fault, in the most severe college in 
 France ; as it was only for giving some proofs of his affection
 
 156 MKMOIIIS OF 
 
 to a young Spanish fair one, who had fixed her eyes upon him 
 on a solemn occasion." 
 
 The king desired to know the particulars of the adventure ; 
 and the Chevalier gratified his curiosity, as soon as the queen 
 and the rest of the court were out of hearing. It was very 
 entertaining to hear him tell a story ; but it was very dis- 
 agreeable to differ with him, either in competition, or in rail- 
 lery : it is true that at that time there were few persons at 
 the English court who had merited his indignation : Russell 
 was sometimes the subject of his ridicule, but he treated him 
 far more tenderly than he usually did a rival. 
 
 This Russell was one of the most furious dancers in all 
 England, I mean, for country dances : he had a collection of 
 two or three hundred in print, all of which he danced at sight ; 
 and to prove that he was not an old man, he sometimes danced 
 until he was almost exhausted : his mode of dancing was like 
 that of his clothes, for they both had been out of fashion full 
 twenty years. 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont was very sensible that he was 
 very much in love ; but though he saw very well that it only 
 rendered him more ridiculous, yet he felt some concern at the 
 information he received, of his intention of demanding Miss 
 Hamilton in marriage ; but his concern did not last long. 
 
 Russell, being upon the point of setting out on a journey, 
 thought it was proper to acquaint his mistress with his inten- 
 tions before his departure. The Chevalier de Grammont win 
 a great obstacle to the interview he was desirous of obtaining 
 of her; but being one day sent for, to go and play at Lady 
 Castlemaine's, Russell seized the opportunity, and addressing 
 himself to Miss Hamilton, with less embarrassment than is usual 
 on such occasions, he made his declaration to her in the fol- 
 lowing manner: "I am brother to the Earl of Bedford: I
 
 COUNT GRAMMOXT. 157 
 
 command the regiment of guards : I have three thousand 
 pounds a year, and fifteen thousand in ready money : all 
 which, Madam, I come to present to you, along with my per- 
 son. One present, I agree, is not worth much without the 
 other, and therefore I put them together. I am advised to go 
 to some of the watering places for something of an asthma, 
 which, in all probability, cannot continue much longer, as I 
 have had it for these last twenty years : if you look upon me 
 as worthy of the happiness of belonging to you, I shall pro- 
 pose it to your father, to whom I did not think it right to 
 apply, before I was acquainted with your sentiments : my 
 nephew William is at present entirely ignorant of my inten- 
 tion ; but I believe he will not be sorry for it, though he will 
 thereby see himself deprived of a pretty considerable estate ; 
 for he has great affection for me, and besides, he has a plea- 
 sure in paying his respects to you since he has perceived my 
 attachment. I am very much pleased that he should make 
 his court to me, by the attention he pays to you ; for he did 
 nothing but squander his money upon that coquet Middleton, 
 while at present he is at no expense, though he frequents the 
 best company in England." 
 
 Miss Hamilton had much difficulty to suppress her laughter 
 during this harangue : however, she told him, that she thought 
 herself much honoured by his intentions towards her, and still 
 more obliged to him for consulting her, before he made any over- 
 tures to her relations : " It will be time enough," said she, " to 
 ;;k to them upon the subject at your return from the waters ; 
 for I do not think it is at "all probable that they will dispose 
 of me before that time, and in case they should be urgent in 
 their solicitations, your nephew William will take care to ac- 
 quaint you ; therefore, you may set out whenever you think 
 proper; but take care not to injure your health by returning 
 too soon."
 
 158 MEMOIRS 01' 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont, having heard the particulars 
 of this conversation, endeavoured as well as he could to be 
 entertained with it ; though there were certain circumstances 
 in the declaration, notwithstanding the absurdity of others, 
 vrhich did not fail to give him some uneasiness. Upon the 
 whole, he was not sorry for Russell's departure ; and, assu.: 
 an air of pleasantry, he went to relate to the king, how Ilea-- 
 ven had favoured him, by delivering him from so dangerous 
 u rival. "He is goni then, Chevalier?" said the king 
 " Certainly, Sir," said he , 'I had the honour to see him em- 
 bark in a coach, with his asthma, and country equipage, his 
 perruque a calotte, neatly tied with a yellow riband, and his 
 old-fashioned hat covered with oil-skin, which becomes him 
 uncommonly well : therefore, I have only to contend with 
 WllfialD Russell, whom he leaves as his resident with Miss 
 Hamilton ; and, as for him, I neither fear him upon his own 
 account, nor his uncle's: he is too much in love himself, to 
 pay attention to the interests of another; and as he has but 
 one method of promoting his own, which is by sacrificing the 
 portrait, or some love-letters of Mrs. Middleton, I have it 
 easily in my power to counteract him in such kind of favours, 
 though I confess I have pretty well paid for them." 
 
 " Since your affairs proceed so prosperously with the Rus- 
 sells," said the king, " I will acquaint you that you are 
 delivered from another rival, much more dangerous, if he were 
 not already married : my brother has lately fallen in love 
 with Lady Chesterfield." " How many blessings at once ! " 
 exclaimed the Chevalier de Grammout : " I have so many 
 obligations to him for this inconstancy, that I would willingly 
 serve him in his new amour, if Hamilton was not his rival : 
 nor will your majesty take it ill, if I promote the interests of 
 my mistress's brother, rather than those of your mnjesty's 
 brother." " Hamilton, however," said the king, " does not
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 159 
 
 stand so much in need of assistance, in affairs of tins nature, 
 as the Duke of York ; but I know Lord Chesterfield is of 
 such a disposition, that he will not suffer men to quarrel about 
 his wife, with the same patience as the complaisant Shrews- 
 bury ; though he well deserves the same fate." Here follows 
 a true description of Lord Chesterfield. 101 
 
 He had a very agreeable face, a fine head of hair, an in- 
 different shape, and a worse air ; he was not, however, deficient 
 in wit : a long residence in Italy had made him ceremonious 
 in his commerce with men, and jealous in bis connection with 
 women. He had been much hated by the king, because he 
 had been much beloved by Lady Castlemaine : it was reported 
 that he had been in her good graces prior to her marriage ; 
 and as neither of them denied it. it was the more generally 
 believed. 
 
 He had paid his devoirs to the eldest daughter of the Duke 
 of Ormond, while his heart was still taken up with his former 
 passion. The king's love for Lady Castlemaine, and the ad- 
 vancement he expected from such an alliance, made him press 
 the match with as much ardour as if he had been passionately 
 in love : he had therefore married Lady Chesterfield vrithout 
 loving her, and had lived some time with her in such coolness, 
 as to leave her no room to doubt of his indifference. As she 
 was endowed with great sensibility and delicacy, she suffered 
 at this contempt: she was at first much affected with his 
 behaviour, and afterwards enraged at it ; and, when he began 
 to give her proofs of his affection, she had the pleasure of 
 convincing him of her indifference. 
 
 They were upou this footing, when she resolved to cure 
 Hamilton, as she had lately done her husband, of all his re- 
 maining tenderness for Lady Castlemaine. For her it was 
 no difficult undertaking : the conversation of the one was
 
 100 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 disagreeable, from the unpolished state of her manners, her ill- 
 timed pride, her uneven temper, and extravagant humours : 
 Lady Chesterfield, on the contrary, knew how to heighten 
 her charms, with all the bewitching attractions in the power 
 of a woman to invent, who wishes to make a conquest. 
 
 Besides all this, she had greater opportunities of making 
 advances to him, than to any other: she lived at the Duke of 
 Ormond's, at "Whitehall, where Hamilton, as was said before, 
 had free admittance at all hours : her extreme coldness, or 
 rather the disgust which she shewed for her husband's return- 
 ing affection, wakened his natural inclination to jealousy : 
 he suspected that she could not so very suddenly pass from 
 anxiety to indifference for him, -without some secret object of 
 a new attachment ; and, according to the maxims of all jea- 
 lous husbands, he immediately put in practice all his expe- 
 rience and industry, in order to make a discovery, which was 
 to destroy his own happiness. 
 
 Hamilton, who knew his disposition, was, on the other 
 hand, upon his guard, and the more he advanced in his in- 
 trigue, the more attentive was he to remove every degree of 
 suspicion from the earl's mind : he pretended to make him 
 his confidant, in the most unguarded and open manner, of hi? 
 passion for Lady Castlemaine : he complained of her caprice, 
 and most earnestly desired his advice how to succeed with a 
 person whose affections he alone had entirely possessed. 
 
 Chesterfield, who was flattered with this discourse, pro- 
 mised him his protection with greater sincerity than it had 
 been demanded : Hamilton, therefore, was no further em- 
 barrased than to preserve Lady Chesterfield's reputation, who, 
 in his opinion, declared herself rather too openly in his 
 favour : but whilst he was diligently employed in regulating, 
 within the rules of discretion, the partiality she expressed for
 
 COUNT GKAilMOXT. 1(JL 
 
 him, aiul in conjuring her to restrain her glances within 
 bounds, she was receiving those of the Duke of York ; and, 
 what is more, made them favourable returns. 
 
 He thought that he had perceived it, as well as every one 
 besides ; but he thought likewise, that all the world was de- 
 ceived as well as himself: how could he trust his own eyes, 
 as to what those of Lady Chesterfield betrayed for this new 
 rival ? He could not think it probable, that a woman of her 
 disposition could relish a man, whose manners had a thousand 
 times been the subject of their private ridicule ; but what he 
 judged still more improbable was, that she should begin ano- 
 ther intrigue before she had given the finishing stroke to that 
 in which her own advances had engaged her: however, he 
 began to observe her with more circumspection, when he 
 found by his discoveries, that if she did not deceive him, at 
 least the desire of doing so was not wanting. This he took 
 the liberty of telling her of; but she answered him in so high 
 a strain, and treated what he said so much like a phantom of 
 his own imagination, that he appeared confused without 
 being convinced : all the satisfaction he could procure from 
 her, was her telling him, in a haughty manner, that such 
 unjust reproaches as his ought to have had a better foun- 
 dation. 
 
 Lord Chesterfield had taken the same alarm; and being 
 convinced, from the observations he had made, that he had 
 found out the happy lover who had gained possession of his 
 lady's heart, he was satisfied ; and without teazing her with 
 unnecessary reproaches, he only waited for an opportunity to 
 confound her, before he took his measures. 
 
 After all, how can we account for Lady Chesterfield's con- 
 duct, unless we attribute it to the disease incident to most 
 coquettes, who, charmed with superiority, put in practice
 
 162 
 
 every art to rob another of lier conquest, and spare nothing 
 to preserve it. 
 
 But before we enter into the particulars of this adventure, 
 let us take a retrospect of the amours of his royal highness. 
 prior to the declaration of his marriage, and particularly of 
 what immediately preceded this declaration. It is allowable 
 sometimes to drop the thread of a narrative, when real fact-, 
 not generally known, give such a variety upon the digression 
 as to render it excusable : let us see then how those things 
 happened. 
 
 The Duke of York's marriage with the chancellor's daugh- 
 ter was deficient in none of those circumstances which ren- 
 der contracts of this nature valid in the eye of heaven : the 
 mutual inclination, the formal ceremony, witnesses, and every 
 essential point of matrimony, had been observed. 102 
 
 Though the bride was no perfect beauty, yet, as there were 
 none at the court of Holland who eclipsed her, the duke, dur- 
 ing the first endearments of matrimony, was so far from 
 repenting of it, that he seemed only to wish for the king's 
 restoration, that he might have an opportunity of declaring it 
 with splendour; but when he saw himself enjoying a rank 
 which placed him so near the throne ; when the possession of 
 Miss Hyde afforded him no new charms ; when England, so 
 abounding in beauties, displayed all that was charming and 
 lovely in the court of the king his brother ; and when he con- 
 sidered he was the only prince, who, from such superior 
 elevation, had descended so low, he began to reflect upon it. 
 On the one hand, his marriage appeared to him particularly ill 
 suited in every respect : he recollected that Jermyn had not 
 engaged him in an intimacy with Miss Hyde, until he had 
 convinced him, by several different circumstances, of the faci- 
 lity of succeeding : he looked upon his marriage as an infringe-
 
 COUNT GR.\MMO-NT. 163 
 
 ment of that duty and obedience lie owed to the king ; the 
 indignation with which the court, and even the whole king- 
 dom, would receive the account of his marriage, presented 
 itself to his imagination, together with the impossibility of 
 obtaining the king's consent to such an act, which for a thou- 
 sand reasons he would be obliged to refuse. On the other 
 hand, the tears and despair of poor Miss Hyde presented 
 themselves ; and still more than that, he felt a remorse of con- 
 science, the scruples of which began from that time to rise up 
 against him. 
 
 In the midst of this perplexity he opened his heart to Lord 
 Falmouth, and consulted with him what method he ought to 
 pursue. He could not have applied to a better man for his 
 own interests, nor to a worse for Miss Hyde's ; for at first, 
 Falmouth maintained not only that he was not married, but 
 that it was even impossible that he could ever have formed 
 such a thought ; that any marriage was invalid for him, which 
 was made without the king's consent, even if the party was a 
 suitable match : but that it was a mere jest, even to think of 
 the daughter of an insignificant lawyer, whom the favour of 
 his sovereign had lately made a peer of the realm, without 
 any noble blood, and chancellor, without any capacity ; that 
 as for his scruples, he had only to give ear to some gentlemen 
 whom he could introduce, who would thoroughly inform him 
 of Miss Hyde's conduct, before he became acquainted with 
 her ; and provided he did not tell them that he really was 
 married, he would soon have sufficient grounds to come to :: 
 determination. 
 
 The Duke of York consented, and Lord Falmouth havinc 
 assembled both his counsel and his witnesses, conducted them 
 to his royal highness's cabinet, after having instructed them 
 h:nv to act : these gentlemen were the Earl of Arran, Jermyu. 
 Ti:!' or, and Killegrew. all men of honour; but who infinitely 
 
 M 2
 
 164 ME.MOIXS or 
 
 preferred the Duke of York's interest to Miss Hyde's repu- 
 tation, and who, besides, were greatly dissatisfied, as well as 
 the whole court, at the insolent authority of the prime minister. 
 The duke having told them, after a sort of preamble, that 
 although they could not be ignorant of his affection for Miss 
 Hyde, yet they migh't be unacquainted with the engagements 
 his tenderness for her had induced him to contract ; that he 
 thought himself obliged to perform all the promises he had 
 made her ; but as the innocence of persons of her age was 
 generally exposed to court scandal, and as certain reports, 
 whether false or true, had been spread abroad on the subject 
 of her conduct, he conjured them as his friends, and charged 
 them upon their duty, to tell him sincerely every thing they 
 knew upon the subject, since he was resolved to make their 
 evidence the rule of his conduct towards her. They all ap- 
 peared rather reserved at first, and seemed not to dare to give 
 their opinions upon au affair of so serious and delicate a na- 
 ture ; but the Duke of York having renewed his entreaties, 
 each began to relate the particulars of what he knew, and 
 perhaps of more than he knew, of poor Miss Hyde ; nor did 
 they omit any circumstance necessary to strengthen the evi- 
 dence. For instance, the Earl of Arran, who spoke first, 
 deposed, that in the gallery at Honslaerdyk, where the Coun- 
 tess of Ossory, his sister-in-law, and Jermyn, were playing at 
 nine-pins, Miss Hyde, pretending to be sick, retired to a 
 chamber at the end of the gallery ; that he, the deponent, had 
 followed her, and having cut her lace, to give a greater 
 probability to the pretence of the vapours, he had acquitted 
 himself to the best of his abilities, both to assist and to 
 console her. 
 
 Talbot said, that she had made an appointment with him in 
 the chancellor's cabinet, while he was in council ; and, that 
 not paying so much attention to what was upon the table, as
 
 COUNT GKAMMONT. 1G5 
 
 to what they were engaged in, they had spilled a bottle full 
 of ink upon a despatch of four pages, and that the king's 
 monkey, which was blamed for this accident, had been a long 
 time in disgrace. 
 
 Jermyn mentioned many places where he had received long 
 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 
 i that place, and was particularly delighted with it. 
 
 The Duke of York found this last accusation greatly out 
 of bounds, being conA'inced he himself had sufficient proofs 
 of the contrary : he therefore returned thanks to these offi- 
 'nformers for their frankness, ordered them to be silent 
 fur 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 Fnlmouth, 
 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 unfavourable for
 
 166 MKM01RS OF 
 
 ] t.or Miss Hyde. Lord Falmouth begun 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 have the cruelty 
 liimself to announce such a melancholy piece of news: they 
 found his royal highness at the appointed hour in Miss 
 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 mattres 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-maftres 
 were their only punishment.
 
 COUNT GRAMMOXT. 167 
 
 The Duchess of York, being fully informed of all that 
 was said in the cabinet concerning 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 being more solicitous for the interest of his friend, 
 or master, than fur his own reputation:" a remarkable exam- 
 ple of prudence and moderation, not only for-thc 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 
 iiis hands upon : this was Lady Carnegy, 103 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 Southesk, 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 
 : 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 
 i'riv lous amusements ; however, the husband's return obliged 
 to maintain some decorum : he therefore never went to
 
 IfiS' . MEMOIRS OF 
 
 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 104 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 opportunity 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 vrus 
 going to his audience. 
 
 He stood sentry, as we have before said, very attentive 
 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 my 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 Lite ; so tliat
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 160 
 
 Southesk, not seeing any equipage at the door, little irua- 
 gined that he had such good company in his house ; but if 
 he was surprised to see Talbot carelessly lolling in his wiliA 
 ante-chamber, 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, Can: 
 welcome, my good fellow," said he, giving him his hand, 
 " 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 surprised to find that the story afforded 
 no pleasure to those who had the principal share in it ; and 
 his greatest concern was, that Caruegy 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 indifferent; for the traitor Southesk medi- 
 tated a revenge, 105 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. 
 
 He 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 106 was then 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 Ilobarts, 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 GRAMMOXT. 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, 
 v.-liich preserves us from it : of this her husband was very 
 :ble; therefore, under the pretence of a pilgrimage to 
 Jxiint "Winifred the virgin and martyr, who was said to cure 
 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 
 Mi.ss Brook ; and it was in the height of this pursuit, that 
 '.'.' Chesterfield threw herself into his arms, as we shall 
 see, by resuming the sequel of her adventures. 
 
 The Earl of Bristol, 107 ever restless and ambitious, had put 
 in practice every art to possess himself of the king's favour. 
 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 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 mencement, was beginning to entertain a good opinion of bis 
 project, when Lady Castlemaine, wbo Lad lately gained en- 
 tire possession of the king's beart, was not in a bumour, at 
 tbat 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 bis parties, she entirely discon- 
 certed them ; so tbat the earl was obliged to lay aside bis 
 projects, and Miss Brook to discontinue her advances. The 
 king did not even dare to think any more on this subject ; but 
 bis brother was pleased to look after what be neglected ; and 
 Miss Brook accepted tbe offer of his beart, until it pleased 
 heaven to dispose of her otherwise, which happened soon 
 after in tbe following manner. 
 
 Sir John Denbam, 108 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 
 bumour, and for brilliancy of composition : satirical and free 
 in his poems, he spared neither frigid writers, nor jealous bus- 
 bands, nor even their wives : every part abounded with the 
 most poignant wit, and the most entertaining stories ; but bis 
 most delicate and spirited raillery turned generally against 
 matrimony ; and, as if be wished to confirm, by bis own ox- 
 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 
 bis 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 GRAJIJIONT. 173 
 
 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 making the most extravagant advances, in order to 
 seduce him from his former connection ; and as he was the 
 most unguarded ogler 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 indifference 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- 
 tics were desirous of charming, and the men endeavoured to 
 plca.se ; all studied to set themselves off 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; he 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 
 rogue, 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
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 175 
 
 it was played to perfection. Lady Chesterfield found fault 
 with the composition ; but her husband, \vlio clearly perceived 
 that he was the person played upon, thought it a most detest- 
 able piece. However, though he was in the last agony, at 
 being obliged to curb his passion, while others gave a free 
 scope 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, 
 aud all the irresolutions of a jealous husband, he was obliged 
 to go. 
 
 AVe may easily imagine what his state of mind was when 
 he arrived at the palace. Alarms are 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 eight Muscovite ambassadors : he had scarce begun 
 to curse the Muscovites, 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 MEMOIllS 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 affairs 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 affairs are 
 now carried on with such barefaced boldness, that at length
 
 COUNT GRAMMOXT. 177 
 
 I find I shall be forced to take some course or other. God 
 forbid that I should act the ridiculous part of a jealous hus- 
 band : the character is odious ; but then I do not intend, 
 through an excess of patience, to be 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 ? 
 What advancement can he expect from one who employs him 
 in such base services ? But we 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 pretty 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, Avithin 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
 
 178 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 a little patience," said he : "I went yesterday to Miss 
 Stewart's, after the 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 the 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 Lad 
 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
 
 COUM GKAMMONT. 179 
 
 saying; however, he thought himself much obliged to him 
 fur the interest he seemed to take iu his concerns. 
 
 Hamilton was in haste to go home to vent his spleen and 
 resentment in a letter to his cousin : the style of this billet 
 v us very different 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, composed this epistle ; 
 which, for fear of accidents, he went to deliver uimself 
 
 Never did she before appear so lovely, and never did her 
 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 complained of were visionary and groundless : he looked 
 upon her husband as a madman and an impostor, and quite 
 the reverse of what he supposed him to be a few minutes 
 before ; but this remorse came a little too late ; he had deli- 
 vered his billet; and Lady Chesterfield had shewn such 
 impatience and eagerness to read it as soon as she had got 
 it, that all circumstances seemed to conspire to justify her. 
 and to confound him. She managed to get quit some way or 
 other of some troublesome visitors, to slip into her closet ; 
 he thought himself so culpable, that he had not the assur- 
 ance to wait her return : he withdrew with the rest of the 
 company; but he did not dare to appear before her the nex: 
 day, to have an answer to his letter : however, he met. hex 
 at court ; and this was the first time, since the commence- 
 ment of their amour, that he did not seek for her. He stood 
 at a distance, with downcast looks, and appeared in such 
 terrible embarrassment, that his condition was sufficient to 
 
 2
 
 130 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 raise laughter or to cause pity, -when Lady Chesterfield 
 approaching, thus accosted him : "Confess," said she, "that 
 you are in as foolish a situation as any man of sense can be : 
 you wish you had not written to me : you are desirous of an 
 answer : you hope for none : yet, you equally wish for and 
 dread it : I have, however, written you one." She had not 
 time to say more ; but the few words she had spoken were 
 accompanied with such an air, and such a look, as to make 
 him believe that it was Venus with all her Graces who had 
 addressed him : he was near her when she sat down to cards, 
 and as he <vas puzzling himself to devise by what means he 
 should get this answer, she desired him to lay her gloves and 
 fan down somewhere : he took them, and with them the 
 billet in question, and as he had perceived nothing severe or 
 angry in the conversation he had with her, he hastened to 
 open her letter, and read as follows : 
 
 " Your transports are so ridiculous, that it is doing you a 
 favour to attribute them to an excess of tenderness, which 
 turns your head : a man, without doubt, must have a great 
 inclination to be jealous, to entertain such an idea of the 
 person you mention. Good God ! what a lover to have 
 caused uneasiness to a man of genius, and what a genius, to 
 have got the better of mine ! Are not you ashamed to give 
 any credit to the visions of a jealous fellow, who brought 
 nothing else with him from Italy ? Is it possible, that the 
 story of the green stockings, upon which he has founded his 
 .-ti^picions, should have imposed upon you, accompanied as it 
 is with such pitiful circumstances ? Since he has made you 
 his confidant, why did not he boast of breaking in pieces my 
 poor harmless guitar ? This exploit, perhaps, might have 
 convinced you more than all the rest : recollect yourself, and 
 if you are really in love with me, thank fortune for a 
 .::<iles3 jealousy, which diverts to another quarter the
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 181 
 
 attention he might pay to my attachment for the most amiable 
 and the most dangerous man of the court." 
 
 Hamilton was ready to weep for joy at these endearing 
 marks of kindness, of which he thought himself so unworthy : 
 he was not satisfied with kissing, in raptures, every part of 
 this billet ; he also kissed several times her gloves and her 
 fan. Play being over, Lady Chesterfield received them from 
 his hands, and read in his eyes the joy that her billet had 
 raised in his heart. Nor was he satisfied with expressing his 
 raptures only by looks : he hastened home, and writ to her 
 at least four times as much. How different was this letter 
 from the other ! Though perhaps not so well written ; for 
 one does not shew so much wit in suing for pardon as in 
 venting reproaches, and it seldom happens that the soft, lan- 
 guishing style of a love-letter is so penetrating as that of 
 invective. 
 
 Be that as it may, his peace was made : their past quarrel 
 gave new life to their correspondence; and Lady Chester- 
 field, to make him as easy as he had before been distrustful, 
 expressed on every occasion a feigned contempt for his rival, 
 and a sincere aversion for her husband. 
 
 So great was his confidence in her, that he consented she 
 should shew in public some marks of attention to the duke, 
 in order to conceal as much as possible their private intelli- 
 gence. Thus, at this time nothing disturbed his peace of 
 mind, but his impatience of finding a favourable opportunity 
 for the completion of his desires : he thought it was in her 
 power to command it ; but she excused herself on account of 
 several difficulties which she enumerated to him, and which 
 she was desirous he should remove by his industry and atten- 
 tions. 
 
 This silenced his complaints ; but whilst he was endea- 
 vouring to surmount these obstacles, still wondering how it
 
 182 
 
 was possible that two persons who wore so well disposed to each 
 other, and who were agreed to make each other happy, could 
 not put their designs in execution, accident discovered an 
 unexpected adventure, which left him no room to doubt, 
 either of the happiness of his rival, or of the perfidy of his 
 mistress. 
 
 Misfortunes often fall light when most feared ; and fre- 
 quently prove heaviest when merited, and when least 
 suspected. Hamilton was in the middle of the most tender 
 and passionate letter he had ever written to Lady Chester- 
 field, when her husband came to announce to him the parti- 
 culars of this last discovery : he came so suddenly upon him, 
 that he had only just time to conceal his amorous epistle 
 among his other papers. His heart and mind were still so 
 full of what he was writing to his cousin, that her husband's 
 complaints against her, at first, were scarce attended to ; 
 besides, in his opinion, he had come in the most unfortunate 
 moment on all accounts. 
 
 He was, however, obliged to listen to him, and he soon 
 entertained quite different sentiments: he appeared almost 
 petrified with astonishment, while the earl was relating to 
 him circumstances of such an extravagant indiscretion, as 
 seemed to him quite incredible, notwithstanding the particu- 
 lars of the fact. " You have reason to be surprised at it," 
 said my lord, concluding his story ; " but if you doubt the 
 truth of what I tell you, it will be easy for you to find 
 evidence that will convince you ; for the scene of their tender 
 familiarities was no less public than the room where the 
 queen plays at cards, which, while her majesty was at play, 
 was, Gcd knows, pretty well crowded. Lady Denham was 
 the first who discovered what they thought would pass 
 unperceived in the crowd ; and you v<: ly very well judge how 
 secret she would keep such a circumstance. The truth is.
 
 COUNT GKAMMOMT. 183 
 
 she addressed herself to me first of all, as I entered the room, 
 to tell me that I should give my wife a little advice, as other 
 people might take notice of what I might see myself, if I 
 pleased. 
 
 " Your cousin was at play, as I before told you : the duke 
 was sitting next to her : I know not what was become of his 
 band ; but I am sure that no one could see his arm below the 
 elbow : I was standing behind them, just in the place that 
 Lady Denham had quitted : the duke turning round perceived 
 me, and was so much disturbed at my presence, that he almost 
 undressed my lady in pulling away his hand. I know not 
 whether they perceived that t^-v were discovered ; but of this 
 I am convinced, that Lady 1 .uam will take care that every 
 body shall know it. I must confess to you, that my embar- 
 rassment is so great, that I cannot find words to express what 
 I now feel : I should not hesitate one moment what course 
 to take, if I might be allowed to shew my resentment 
 against the person who has wronged me. As for her, I 
 could manage her well enough, if, unworthy as she is of any 
 consideration, I had not still some regard for an illustrious 
 family, that would be distracted were I to resent such an 
 injury as it deserves. In this particular you are interested 
 yourself: you are my friend, and I make you my confidant 
 in an affair of the greatest imaginable delicacy : let us then 
 consult together what is proper to be done in so perplexing 
 and disagreeable a situation." 
 
 Hamilton, if possible, more astonished, and more con- 
 founded than himself, was far from being in a proper state to 
 afford him advice on the present occasion : he listened to 
 nothing but jealousy, and breathed nothing but revenge ; but 
 these emotions being somewhat abated, in hopes that there 
 might be calumny, or at least exaggeration in the charges 
 against Lady Chesterfield, he desired her husband to suspend
 
 184 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 his resolutions, until he was more fully informed of the fact ; 
 assuring him, however, that if he found the circumstances 
 such as he had related, he should regard and consult no other 
 interest than his. 
 
 Upon this they parted ; and Hamilton found, on the first 
 inquiry, that almost the whole court was informed of the 
 adventure, to which every one added something in relating it. 
 Vexation and resentment inflamed his heart, and by degrees 
 extinguished every remnant of his former passion. 
 
 He might easily have seen her, and have made her such 
 reproaches as a man is generally inclined to do on such occa- 
 sions ; but he was too much enraged to enter into any detail 
 which might have led to an explanation : he considered him- 
 self as the only person essentially injured in this affair ; for he 
 could never bring his mind to think that the injuries of the 
 husband could be placed in competition with those of the 
 lover. 
 
 He hastened to Lord Chesterfield, in the transport of his 
 passion, and told him that lie had heard enough to induce him to 
 give such advice, as he should follow himself in the same situa- 
 tion, and that, if he wished to save a woman so strongly prepos- 
 sessed, and who, perhaps, had not yet lost all her innocence, 
 though she had totally lost her reason, he ought not to delay 
 one single instant, but immediately to carry her into the 
 country, with the greatest possible expedition, without allow- 
 ing her the least time to recover her surprise. 
 
 Lord Chesterfield readily agreed to follow this advice, which 
 he had already considered as the only counsel a friend could 
 give him ; but his lady, who did not suspect he had made this 
 ast discovery of her conduct, thought he was joking with her 
 when he told her to prepare for going into the country in two 
 days : she was the more induced to think so, as it was in the 
 very middle of an extremely severe winter; but she soon
 
 COUNT GRAMMON'T. 185 
 
 perceived that he was in earnest : she knew, from the air and 
 manner of her husband, that he thought he had sufficient rea- 
 son to treat her in this imperious style ; and, finding all her 
 relations serious and cold to her complaint, she had no hope 
 left in this universally abandoned situation, but in the tender- 
 ness of Hamilton. She imagined she should hear from him 
 the cause of her misfortunes, of which she was still totally 
 ignorant, and that his love would invent some means or other 
 to prevent a journey, which she flattered herself would be even 
 more affecting to him than to herself; but she was expecting 
 pity from a crocodile. 
 
 At last, when she saw the eve of her departure was 
 come ; that every preparation was made for a long journey ; 
 that she was receiving farewell visits in form, and that still 
 she heard nothing from Hamilton, both her hopes and her pa- 
 tience forsook her in this wretched situation. A few tears, 
 perhaps, might have afforded her some relief, but she chose 
 rather to deny herself that comfort, than to give her husband 
 so much satisfaction. Hamilton's conduct, on this occasion, 
 appeared to her unaccountable ; and, as he still never came 
 near her, she found means to convey to him the following 
 billet. 
 
 " Is it possible that you should be one of those, who, with- 
 out vouchsafing to tell me for what crime I am treated like a 
 slave, suffer me to be dragged from society ? What means 
 your silence and indolence, in a juncture wherein your tender- 
 ness ought most particularly to appear, and actively exert 
 itself? I am upon the point of departing, and am ashamed 
 to think that you are the cause of my looking upon it with 
 horror, as I have reason to believe that you are less concerned 
 at it than any other person : do, at least, let me know to what 
 place I am to be dragged ; what is to be done with me within 
 a vdlderness ; and on what account you, like all the rest of the
 
 ]86 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 world, appear changed in your behaviour toward a { ci 
 whom all the world could not oblige to change with regard to 
 you, if your weakness or your ingratitude did not render you 
 unworthy of her tenderness." 
 
 This billet did but harden his heart, and make him more 
 proud of his vengeance : he swallowed down full draughts of 
 pleasure, in beholding her reduced to despair, being persuaded 
 that her grief and regret for her departure were on account 
 of another person : he felt uncommon satisfaction in having a 
 share in tormenting her, and was particularly pleased with the 
 scheme he had contrived to separate her from a rival, upon 
 the very point, perhaps, of being made happy Thus fortified 
 as he was against his natural tenderness, with all the severity 
 of jealous resentment, he saw her depart with an indifference 
 which he did not even endeavour to conceal from her ; this 
 unexpected treatment, joined to the complication of her other 
 misfortunes, had almost in reality plunged her into despair. 
 
 The court was filled with the story of this adventure ; no- 
 body was ignorant of the occasion of this sudden departure, 
 but very few approved of Lord Chesterfield's conduct. In 
 England they looked with astonishment upon a man who could 
 be so uncivil as to be jealous of his wife ; and in the city of 
 London it was a prodigy, till that time unknown, to see a 
 husband have recourse to violent means to prevent what 
 jealousy fears, and what it always deserves. They endea- 
 voured, however, to excuse -poor Lord Chesterfield, as far as 
 they could safely do it, without incurring the public odium, 
 by laying all the blame on his bad education. This made all 
 the mothers TOW to God, that none of their sons should ever 
 net a foot in Italy, lest they should bring back with them that 
 infamous custom of laying restraint upon their wives. 
 
 As this story for a long time took up the attention of the 
 court, the Chevalier de Grammont, who was net thoroughly
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 187 
 
 acquainted with all the particulars, inveighed more bitterly 
 than all the citizens of London put together against this ty- 
 ranny; and it was upon this occasion that he produced new 
 words to that fatal saraband which had unfortunately so great 
 a share in the adventure. The Chevalier passed for the 
 author ; but if Saint Evremond had any part in the composi - 
 tion, it certainly was greatly inferior to his other perform- 
 ances, as the reader will see in the following chapter.
 
 188 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 EVERY man who believes that his honour depends upon 
 that of his wife is a fool, who torments himself, and drives 
 her to despair ; but he who, being naturally jealous, has the 
 additional misfortune of loving his wife, and who expects that 
 she should only live for him, is a perfect madman, whom the 
 torments of hell have actually taken hold of in this world, and 
 whom nobody pities. All reasoning and observation on these 
 unfortunate circumstances attending wedlock concur in this, 
 that precaution is vain and useless before the evil, and revenge 
 odious afterwards. 
 
 The Spaniards, who tyrannize over their wives, more by 
 custom than from jealousy, content themselves with preserv- 
 ing the niceness of their honour by duennas, grates, and locks. 
 The Italians, who are wary in their suspicions, and vindictive 
 in their resentments, pursue a different line of conduct ; some 
 satisfy themselves with keeping their wives under locks which 
 they think secure ; others by ingenious precautions exceed 
 whatever the Spaniards can invent for confining the fair sex ; 
 but the generality are of opinion, that in either unavoidable 
 danger, or in manifest transgression, the surest way is to 
 assassinate. 
 
 But, ye courteous and indulgent nations, who, far from 
 admitting these savage and barbarous customs, give full liberty 
 to your dear ribs, and commit the care of their virtue to their 
 own discretion, you pass without alarms or strife your peace- 
 ful days, in all the enjoyments of domestic indolence ! 
 
 It was certainly some evil genius that induced Lord Ches-
 
 COl'NT GIIAMMOXT. 189 
 
 terfield to distinguish himself from his patient and good-na- 
 tured countrymen, and ridiculously to afford the world an 
 opportunity of examining into the particulars of an adventure, 
 which would perhaps never have been known without the 
 verge of the court, and which would everywhere have been 
 forgotten in less than a month ; but now, as soon as ever he had 
 turned his back, in order to march away with his prisoner, and 
 the ornaments she was supposed to have bestowed upon him, 
 God only knows what a terrible attack there was made upon 
 his- rear. Rochester, 109 Middlesex, 110 Sydley, 111 Etheredge,- j2 
 and all the whole band of wits, exposed him in numberless 
 ballads, and diverted the public at his expense. 
 
 The Chevalier de Gramniont was highly pleased with these 
 lively and humorous compositions ; and wherever this subject 
 was mentioned, never failed to produce his supplement upon 
 the occasion : " It is strange," said he, " that the country, 
 which is little better than a gallows or a grave for young peo- 
 ple, is allotted in this land only for the unfortunate, and not 
 for the guilty ! Poor Lady Chesterfield, for some unguarded 
 looks, is immediately seized upon by an angry husband, who 
 will oblige her to spend her Christinas at a country-house, a 
 hundred and fifty miles from London ; while here, there are 
 a thousand ladies who are left at liberty to do whatever they 
 please, and who indulge in that liberty, and whose conduct, in 
 short, deserves a daily bastinado. I name no person, God 
 forbid I should ; but Lady Middleton, Lady Denham, the 
 queen's and the duchess's maids of honour, and a hundred 
 others, bestow their favours to the right and to the left, and 
 not the least notice is taken of their conduct. As for Lady 
 Shrewsbury, she is conspicuous. I would take a wager she 
 might have a man killed for her every day, and she would 
 only hold her head the higher for it : one would suppose she 
 imported from Rome plenary indulgences for her conduct :
 
 190 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 there are three or four gentlemen who wear an ounce of her 
 hair made into bracelets, and no person finds any fault ; and 
 yet shall such a cross-grained fool as Chesterfield be permitted 
 to exercise an act of tyranny, altogether unknown in this 
 country, upon the prettiest woman in England, and all for a 
 mere trifle : but I am his humble servant ; his precautions 
 will avail him nothing; on the contrary, very often a woman, 
 who had no bad intentions when she was suffered to remain in 
 tranquillity, is prompted to such conduct by revenge, or re- 
 duced to it by necessity : this is as true as the gospel : hear 
 now what Francisco's saraband says on the subject : 
 
 " Tell me, jealous-pated swain, 
 
 What avail thy idle arts, 
 
 To divide united hearts ? 
 
 Love, like the wind, I trow, 
 
 Will, where it listeth, blow ; 
 So, prithee, peace, for all thy cares are vain. 
 
 " When you are by, 
 
 Nor wishful look, be sure, nor eloquent sigh, 
 Shall dare those inward fires discover, 
 Which burn in either lover : 
 Yet Argus' self, if Argus were thy spy, 
 
 Should ne'er, with all his mob of eyes, 
 Surprise. 
 
 " Some joys forbidden, 
 
 Transports hidden, 
 
 Which love, through dark and secret ways, 
 Mysterious love, to kindred souls conveys." 
 
 The Chevalier do Grammont passed for the author of ! 
 sonnet: neither the justness of the sentiment, nor turn of it, 
 are surprisingly beautiful; but as it contained some truths 
 that flattered the genius of the nation, and pleased those who 
 interested themselves for the fair sex, the ladies were all 
 desirous of having it to teach their children.
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 191 
 
 During all this time, the Duke of York, not being in the 
 way of seeing Lady Chesterfield, easily forgot her : her 
 absence, however, had some circumstances attending it, which 
 could not but sensibly affect the person who had occasioned 
 her confinement; but there are certain fortunate tempers to 
 which every situation is easy; they feel neither disappoint- 
 ment with bitterness, nor pleasure with acuteness. In the 
 mean time, as the duke could not remain idle, he had no sooner 
 forgotten Lady Chesterfield, but he bogan to think of her 
 whom he had been in love with before, and was upon the point 
 of relapsing into his old passion for Miss Hamilton. 
 
 There was in London a celebrated portrait painter, called 
 Lely, 113 who had greatly improved himself by studying the 
 famous Vandyke's pictures, which were dispersed all over 
 England in abundance. Lely imitated Vandyke's manner, 
 and approached the nearest to him of all the moderns. The 
 Duchess of York being desirous of having the portraits of the 
 handsomest persons at court, Lely painted them, and employed 
 all his skill in the performance ; nor could he ever exert him- 
 self upon more beautiful subjects. Every picture appeared a 
 master-piece ; and that of Miss Hamilton appeared the highest 
 finished : Lely himself acknowledged that he had drawn it 
 with a particular pleasure. The Duke of York took a delight 
 in looking at it, and began again to ogle the original : he had 
 very little reason to hope for success; and at the same time 
 that his hopeless passion alarmed the Chevalier de Grammont, 
 Lady Denham thought proper to renew the negotiation which 
 had so unluckily been interrupted : it was soon brought to a 
 conclusion ; for where both parties are sincere in a negotiation, 
 no time is lost in cavilling. Every thing succeeded prosper- 
 Aisly on one side ; yet, I know not what fatality obstructed 
 the pretensions of the other. The duke was very urgent with 
 the duchess to put Lady Denham in possession of the place
 
 192 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 which was the object of her ambition ; but, as she was not gua- 
 rantee for the performance of the secret articles of the treaty, 
 though till this time she had borne with patience the incon- 
 stancy of the duke, and yielded submissively to his desires, yet, 
 in the present instance, it appeared hard and dishonourable to 
 her, to entertain near her person a rival, who would expose 
 her to the danger of acting but a second part in the midst of 
 her own court. However, she saw herself upon the point of 
 being forced to it by authority, when a far more unfortunate 
 obstacle for ever bereft poor Lady Denham of the hopes of 
 possessing that fatal place, which she had solicited with such 
 eagerness. 
 
 Old Denham, naturally jealous, became more and more sus- 
 picious, and found that he had sufficient ground for such con- 
 duct : his wife was young and handsome, he old and disagree- 
 able : what reason, then, had he to flatter himself that heaven 
 would exempt him from the fate of husbands in the like circum- 
 stances? This he was continually saying to himself; but, when 
 compliments were poured in upon him from all sides, upon the 
 place his lady was going to have near the duchess's person, he 
 formed ideas of what was sufficient to have made him hang 
 himself, if he had possessed the resolution. The traitor chose 
 rather to exercise his courage against another. He wanted 
 precedents for putting in practice his resentments in a pri- 
 vileged country : that of Lord Chesterfield was not sufficiently 
 bitter for the revenge he meditated : besides, he had no 
 country-house to which he could carry his unfortunate wife. 
 This being the case, the old villain made her travel a much 
 longer journey without stirring out of London. Merciless 
 fate robbed her of life, and of her dearest hopes, in the bloom 
 of youth. 114 
 
 As no person entertained any doubt of his having poisoned 
 her, the populace of his neighbourhood had a design of tear-
 
 COUNT GRAMMOM. 193 
 
 .vj.'j him in pieces, as soon as he . hould come abroad ; but he 
 shut himself up to bewail her death, until their fury was 
 appeased by a magnificent funeral, at which he distributed 
 four times more burnt wine than had ever been drunk at any 
 burial in England. 
 
 While the town was in fear of some great disaster, as an 
 expiation for these fatal effects of jealousy, Hamilton was not 
 altogether so easy as he flattered himself he should be after 
 the departure of Lady Chesterfield : he had only consulted 
 the dictates of revenge in what he had done : his vengeance 
 was satisfied ; but such was far from being the case with his 
 love ; and having, since the absence of her he still admired, 
 notwithstanding his resentments, leisure to make those reflec- 
 tions which a recent injury will not permit a man to attend 
 to : " and wherefore," said he to himself, " was I so eager to 
 make her miserable, who alone, however culpable she may be, 
 ha.< it in her power to make me happy ? Cursed jealousy '" 
 continued he, " yet more cruel to those who torment, than to 
 those who are tormented ! What have I gained, by having 
 blasted the hopes of a more happy rival, since I was not able 
 to perform this without depriving myself, at the same time, of 
 her, upon whom the whole happiness and comfort of my life 
 v, as centred." 
 
 Thus, clearly proving to himself, by a great many reason- 
 ings of the same kind, and all out of season, that in such an 
 engagement it was much better to partake with another than to 
 h:ive nothing at all, he filled his mind with a number of vain 
 regrets and unprofitable remorse, when he received a letter 
 from her who occasioned them, but a letter so exactly adapted 
 to increase them, that, after he had read it, he looked upon 
 himself as the greatest scoundrel in the world. Here it 
 follows : 
 
 "You will, no doubt, be as much surprised at this letter, 
 o
 
 194 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 as I was at the unconcerned air with which you beheld 
 my departure. I am led to believe, that you had imagined 
 reasons, which, in your own mind, justified such unseasonable 
 conduct. If you are still under the impression of such bar- 
 barous sentiments, it will afford you pleasure to be made 
 acquainted with what I suffer in the most horrible of prisons. 
 Whatever the country affords most melancholy, in this season, 
 presents itself to my view on all sides : surrounded by 
 impassable roads, out of one window I see nothing but rocks, 
 out of another nothing but precipices ; but wherever I turn 
 my eyes within doors, I meet those of a jealous husband, 
 still more insupportable than the sad objects that encompass 
 me. I should add, to the misfortunes of my life, that of 
 seeming criminal in the eyes of a man who ought to have 
 justified me, even against convincing appearances, if by my 
 avowed innocence I had a right to complain or to expostulate : 
 but how is it possible for me to justify myself at such a 
 distance ; and how can I flatter myself, that the description 
 of a most dreadful prison will not prevent you from believing 
 me ? But do you deserve that I should wish you did ? 
 Heavens ! how I must hate you, if I did not love you to 
 distraction. Come, therefore, and let me once again see you, 
 that you may hear my justification ; and I am convinced, 
 that if after this visit you find me guilty, it will not be with 
 respect to yourself. Our Argus sets out to-morrow for 
 Chester, where a lawsuit will detain him a week : I know 
 not whether he will gain it ; but I am sure it will be entirely 
 your fault, if he does not lose one, for which he is at least as 
 anxious as that he is now going after." 
 
 This letter was sufficient to make a man ran blindfold into 
 an adventure still more rash than that which was proposed 
 to him, and that was rash enough in all respects : ho could 
 not perceive by what means she could justify herself; but as
 
 COU.NT CKAMMONT. 195 
 
 she assured him he should be satisfied with his journey, this 
 was all he desired at present. 
 
 There was one of his relations with Lady Chesterfield, 
 who, having accompanied her in her exile, had gained some 
 share in their mutual confidence ; and it was through her 
 means he received this letter, with all the necessary instruc- 
 tions about his journey and his arrival. Secrecy being the 
 soul of such expeditions, especially before an amour is accom- 
 plished, he took post, and set out in the night, animated by 
 the most tender and flattering wishes, so that, in less than no 
 time, almost, in comparison with the distance and the badness 
 of the roads, he had travelled a hundred and fifty tedious 
 miles : at the last stage he prudently dismissed the post-boy. 
 It was not yet daylight, and therefore, for fear of the rocks 
 and precipices mentioned in her letter, he proceeded with 
 tolerable discretion, considering he was in love. 
 , By this means, he fortunately escaped all the dangerous 
 places, and, according to his instructions, alighted at a little 
 hut adjoining to the park-wall. The place was not mag- 
 nificent : but, as he only wanted rest, it did well enough for 
 that : he did not wish for daylight, and was even still less 
 desirous of being seen ; wherefore, having shut himself up 
 in this obscure retreat, he fell into a profound sleep, and did 
 not wake until noon. As he was particularly hungry when 
 he awoke, he ate and drank heartily ; and, as he was the 
 neatest man at court, and was expected by the neatest lady 
 in England, he spent the remainder of the day in dressing 
 himself, and in making all those preparations which the time 
 and place permitted, without deigning once to look around 
 him, or to ask his landlord a single question. At last, the 
 orders he expected with great impatience were brought him, 
 in the beginning of the evening, by a servant, who, attending 
 him as a guide, after having led him for about half an hour 
 
 o2
 
 106 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 in the dirt, through a park of vast extent, brought him at 
 last into a garden, into \vhich a little door opened : he was 
 posted, exactly opposite to this door, by which, in a short 
 time, he was to be introduced to a more agreeable situation ; 
 and here his conductor left him. The night advanced, but 
 the door never opened. 
 
 Though the winter was almost over, the cold weather 
 seemed only to be beginning : he was dirtied up to his knees 
 in mud, and soon perceived, that if he continued much longer 
 in this garden, it would all be frozen. This beginning of a 
 very dark and bitter night would have been unbearable to 
 any other ; but it was nothing to a man who flattered him- 
 self to pass the remainder of it in the height of bliss : how- 
 ever, he began to wonder at so many precautions in the 
 absence of a husband : his imagination, by a thousand deli- 
 cious and tender ideas, supported him some time against the 
 torments of impatience and the inclemency of the weather ; 
 but he felt his imagination, notwithstanding, cooling by 
 degrees ; and two hours, which seemed to him as tedious as 
 two whole ages, having passed, and not the least notice being 
 taken of him, either from the door or from the window, he began 
 to reason with himself upon the posture of his affairs, and what 
 was the fittest conduct for him to pursue in this emergency : 
 " What if I should rap at this cursed door," said he ; " for if 
 my fate requires that I should perish, it is at least more 
 honourable to die in the house, than to be starved to death in 
 the garden ; but, then," continued he, " I may thereby, per- 
 haps, expose a person whom some unforeseen accident may, 
 at this very instant, have reduced to greater perplexity than 
 even I myself am in." This thought supplied him with a 
 necessary degree of patience and fortitude against the 
 enemies he had to contend with; he therefore began to walk 
 quickly to and fro, with the resolution to wait, as long as he
 
 COUNT OIIAMMOXT. 19? 
 
 could keep alive, the end of an adventure, which had such 
 an uncomfortable beginning. All this was to no purpose ; 
 for though he used every effort to keep himself warm, and 
 though muffled up in a thick cloak, yet he began to be 
 benumbed in all his limbs, and the cold gained the ascen- 
 dancy over all his amorous vivacity and eagerness. Day- 
 break was not far off, and judging now, that though the 
 accursed door should even be opened, it would be to no 
 purpose, he returned, as well he could, to the place from 
 whence he had set out upon this wonderful expedition. 
 
 All the faggots that were in the cottage were hardly able 
 to unfreeze him : the more he reflected on his adventure, the 
 circumstances attending it appeared still the more strange and 
 unaccountable ; but so far from accusing the charming coun- 
 tess, he suffered a thousand different anxieties on her account : 
 sometimes he imagined that her husband might have returned 
 unexpectedly ; sometimes, that she might suddenly have been 
 taken ill ; in short, that some insuperable obstacle had un- 
 luckily interposed, and prevented his happiness, notwith- 
 standing his mistress's kind intentions towards him. " But 
 wherefore," said he, " did she forget me in that cursed garden ? 
 Is it possible that she could not find a single moment to make 
 me at least some sign or other, if she could neither speak to 
 me, nor give me admittance ? " He knew not which of these 
 conjectures to rely upon, or how to answer his own questions; 
 but as he flattered himself that every thing would succeed 
 better the next night, after having vowed not to set a foot 
 again into that unfortunate garden, he gave orders to be 
 waked as soon as any person should inquire for him : then he 
 laid himself down in one of the worst beds in the world, and 
 slept as sound as if he had been in the best : he supposed that 
 he should not be awakened, but either by a letter or a message 
 from Lady Chesterfield ; but he had scarce slept two hours.
 
 198 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 when he was roused by the sound of the horn and the cry of 
 the hounds. The hut, which afforded him a retreat, joining, 
 as we before said, to the park-wall, he called his host, to 
 know what was the occasion of that hunting, which made a 
 noise, as if the whole pack of hounds had been in his bed- 
 chamber. He was told, that it was my lord hunting a hare 
 in his park. " What lord ? " said he, in great surprise. " The 
 Earl of Chesterfield," replied the peasant. He was so asto- 
 nished at this, that at first he hid his head under the bed- 
 clothes, under the idea that he already saw him entering with 
 all his hounds ; but as soon as he had a little recovered him- 
 self, he began to curse capricious fortune, no longer doubting 
 but this jealous fool's return had occasioned all his tribulations 
 in, the preceding night. 
 
 It was not possible for him to sleep again, after such an 
 alarm ; he therefore got up, that he might revolve in his mind 
 all the stratagems that are usually employed, either to de- 
 ceive, or to remove out of the way a jealous scoundrel of a 
 husband, who thought fit to neglect his lawsuit, in order to 
 plague his wife. He had just finished dressing himself, and 
 was beginning to question his landlord, when the same ser- 
 vant, who had conducted him to the garden, delivered him a 
 letter, and disappeared, without waiting for an answer. This 
 letter was from his relation, and was to this effect : 
 
 " I am extremely sorry that I have innocently been acces- 
 sary to bringing you to a place, to which you were only in- 
 vited to be laughed at: I opposed this journey at first, 
 though I was then persuaded it was wholly suggested by her 
 tenderness ; but she has now undeceived me : she triumphs in 
 the trick she has played you : her husband has not stirred 
 from hence, but stays at home, out of complaisance to her : 
 he treats her in the most affectionate manner ; and it was upon 
 their reconciliation, that she found out that you had advised
 
 COUNT vUiAJIMONT. 199 
 
 him to carry her into the country. She has conceived such 
 hatred and aversion against you for it, that I find, from her 
 discourse, she has not yet wholly satisfied her resentment. 
 Console yourself for the hatred of a person, whose heart never 
 merited your tenderness. Return : a longer stay in this place 
 will but draw upon you some fresh misfortune : for my part, 
 I shall soon leave her : I know her, and I thank God for it : 
 I do not repent having pitied her at first ; but I am disgusted 
 with an employment which but ill agrees with my way of 
 thinking/ 
 
 Upon reading this letter, astonishment, shame, hatred, and 
 rage seized at once upon his heart: then menaces, invecti- 
 and the desire of vengeance, broke forth by turns, and excited 
 his passion and resentment ; but, after he deliberately con- 
 sidered the matter, he resolved that it was now the best way 
 quietly to mount his horse, and to carry back with him to 
 London a severe cold, instead of the soft wishes and tender 
 desires he had brought from thence. He quitted this per- 
 fidious place with much greater expedition than he had arrived 
 at it, though his mind was far from being occupied with such 
 tender and agreeable ideas : however, when he thought him- 
 self at a sufficient distance to be out of danger of meeting 
 Lord Chesterfield and his hounds, he chose to look back, that he 
 might at least have the satisfaction of seeing the prison where 
 this wicked enchantress was confined; but what was his sur- 
 prise, when he saw a very fine house, situated on the banks of a 
 river, in the most delightful and pleasant country imagin- 
 able. 115 Neither rock, nor precipice, was here to be seen ; for, 
 in reality, they were only in the letter of his perfidious mistress. 
 This furnished fresh cause for resentment and confusion to a 
 man who thought himself so well acquainted with all the 
 wiles, as well as weaknesses, of the fair PPX ; nn<l who now
 
 200 MK.MOiliS OP 
 
 found himself the dupe of a coquette, who was reconciled to 
 her husband in order to be revenged on her lover. 
 
 At last he reached London, well furnished with arguments 
 to maintain, that a man must be extremely weak to trust to 
 he tenderness of a woman who has once deceived him; but 
 that he must be a complete fool to run after her. 
 
 This adventure not being much to his credit, he suppressed, 
 :is much as possible, both the journey, and the circumstances 
 attending it ; but, as we may easily suppose Lady Chesterfield 
 made no secret of it, the king came to the knowledge of it ; 
 uid, having complimented Hamilton upon it, desired to be 
 informed of all the particulars of the expedition. The Che- 
 valier de Gramniont happened to be present at this recital ; 
 and, having gently inveighed against the treacherous manner 
 in which he had been used, said : " If she is to be blamed for 
 carrying the jest so far, you are no less to be blamed for com- 
 ing back so suddenly, like an ignorant novice : I dare lay a 
 hundred guineas, she has more than once repented of a resent- 
 ment which you pretty well deserved for the trick you had 
 played her : women love revenge ; but their resentments sel- 
 dom last long ; and, if you had remained in the neighbour- 
 hood till the next day, I will be hanged if she would not have 
 given you satisfaction for the first night's sufferings." Hamil- 
 ton being of a different opinion, the Chevalier de Grammont 
 resolved to maintain his assertion by a case in point ; and, 
 addressing himself to the king : " Sir," said he, " your majesty, 
 I suppose, must have known Marion de l'Orme, 116 the most 
 charming creature in all France : though she was as witty as 
 an angel, she was as capricious as a devil. This beauty hav- 
 ing made me an appointment, a whim seized her to put me off, 
 arid to give it to another ; she therefore writ me one of the 
 tendorcst billots in the world, full of the grief and sorrow she
 
 COUNT OKAMMONT. 201 
 
 w;;> in, by being obliged to disappoint me, on account of a 
 most terrible headache, that obliged her to keep her bed, and 
 deprived her of the pleasure of seeing me till the next day. 
 This headache coming all of a sudden, appeared to me very 
 suspicious ; and, never doubting but it was her intention to 
 jilt me : very well, mistress coquette, said I to myself, if you do 
 not enjoy the pleasure of seeing me this day, you shall not 
 enjoy the satisfaction of seeing another. 
 
 " Hereupon, I detached all my servants, some of whom 
 patrolled about her house, whilst others watched her door : 
 one of the latter brought me intelligence, that no person had 
 gone into her house all the afternoon ; but that a foot-boy 
 had gone out as it grew dark ; that he followed him as far as 
 the Rue Saint Antoine, where this boy met another, to whom 
 he only spoke two or three words. This was sufficient to 
 confirm my suspicions, and make me resolve either to make 
 one of the party, or to disconcert it. 
 
 " As the bagnio where I lodged was at a great distance 
 from the Marais, as soon as the night set in I mounted my 
 horse, without any attendant. When I came to the Place- 
 Royale, the servant, who was sentry there, assured me that 
 no person was yet gone into Mademoiselle de 1'Orme's house : 
 I rode forward towards the Rue Saint Antoine ; and just as 
 I was going out of the Place-Royale, I saw a man on foot 
 coming into it, who avoided me as much as he possibly could ; 
 l>ut his endeavour was all to no purpose ; I knew him to be 
 Duke de Brissac, and I no longer doubted but he was my 
 rival that night : I then approached towards him, seeming as 
 if I feared I mistook my man ; and alighting with a very 
 busy air : ' Brissac, my friend,' said I, ' you must do me a 
 service of the very greatest importance : I have an appoint- 
 ment, for the first time, with a girl who lives very near this 
 place ; and. as this visit is only to concert measures, I shall
 
 202 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 make but a very short stay : be so kind, therefore, as to lend 
 me your cloak, and walk my horse about a little, until I 
 return ; but, above all, do not go far from this place : you 
 see that I use you freely like a friend ; but you know, it is 
 upon condition that you may take the same liberty with me. 
 I took his cloak without waiting for his answer, and he took 
 my horse by the bridle, and followed me with his eye ; but 
 he gained no intelligence by this ; for, after having pretended to 
 go into a house opposite to him, I slipped under the piazzas to 
 Mademoiselle de 1'Orme's, where the door was opened as soon 
 as I knocked. I was so much muffled up in Brissac's cloak, 
 that I was taken for him : the door was immediately shut, 
 not the least question asked me ; and, having none to ask 
 myself, I went straight to the lady's chamber. I found her 
 upon a couch in the most agreeable and genteelest dishabille 
 imaginable : she never in her life looked so handsome, nor 
 was so greatly surprised ; and, seeing her speechless and con- 
 founded : ' What is the matter, my fair one ?' said I, ' me- 
 thinks this is a headache very elegantly set off; but your 
 headache, to all appearance, is now gone?' 'Not in the 
 least,' said she, * I can scarce support it, and you will oblige 
 me in going away, that I may go to bed.' ' As for your going 
 to bed, to that I have not the least objection,' said I ; ' but 
 as for my going away, that cannot be, my little princess the 
 Chevalier de Grammont is no fool ; a woman does not dress 
 herself with so much care for nothing.' ' You will find, 
 however,' said she, ' that it is for nothing ; for you may 
 depend upon it that you shall be no gainer by it.' ' What ! ' 
 said I, * after having made me an appointment !' ' Well,' re- 
 plied she hastily, ' though I had made you fifty, it still depends 
 upon me, whether I choose to keep them, or not, and you 
 must submit if I do not.' ' This might do very well,' said I, 
 ' if it was not to give it to another.' Mademoiselle de 1'Orme,
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 203 
 
 as haughty as a woman of the greatest virtue, and as pas- 
 sionate as one who has the least, was irritated at a suspi- 
 cion, which gave her more concern than confusion ; and 
 seeing that she was beginning to put herself in a passion : 
 ' Madam,' said I, ' pray do not talk in so high a strain ; I 
 know what perplexes you : you are afraid lest Brissac should 
 meet me here ; but you may make yourself easy on that 
 account : I met him not far from this place, and God knows 
 that I have so managed the affair as to prevent his visiting 
 you soon.' Having spoken these words in a tone somewhat 
 tragical, she appeared concerned at first, and, looking upon 
 me with surprise : ' What do you mean, about the Duke de 
 Brissac?' said she. 'I mean,' replied I, ' that he is at the 
 end of the street, walking my horse about ; but, if you will 
 not believe me, send one of your own servants thither, or 
 look at his cloak, which I left in your antechamber.' Upon 
 this, she burst into a fit of laughter, in the midst of her 
 astonishment, and, throwing her arms around my neck : ' My 
 dear Chevalier,' said she, ' I can hold out no longer ; you 
 are too amiable and too eccentric not to be pardoned.' I then 
 told her the whole story : she was ready to die with laughing ; 
 and, parting very good friends, she assured me, my rival 
 might exercise horses as long as he pleased, but that he should 
 not set his foot within her doors that night. 
 
 " I found the duke exactly in the place where I had left 
 him : I asked him a thousand pardons for having made him 
 wait so long, and thanked him a thousand times for his com- 
 plaisance. He told me, I jested ; that such compliments 
 were unusual among friends ; and, to convince me that he 
 had cordially rendered me this piece of service, he would, by 
 all means, hold my horse while I was mounting. I returned 
 him his cloak, bid him good night, and went back to iny 
 lodgings, equally satisfied with my mistress and my rival.
 
 204 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 This," continued ho, " proves that a little patience and 
 address is sufficient to disarm the anger of the fair, to turn 
 even their tricks to a man's advantage." 
 
 It was in vain that the Chevalier de Grammont diverted 
 the court with his stories, instructed by his example, and 
 never appeared there but to inspire universal joy ; for a long 
 time he was the only foreigner in fashion. Fortune, jealous 
 of the justice which is done to merit, and desirous of seeing 
 all human happiness depend on her caprice, raised up 
 against him two competitors for the pleasure he had long 
 enjoyed of entertaining the English court ; and these competi- 
 tors were so much the more dangerous, as the reputation of 
 their several merits had preceded their arrival, in order to 
 dispose the suffrages of the court in their favour. 
 
 They came to display, in their own persons, whatever was 
 the most accomplished either among the men of the sword, 
 or of the gown. The one was the Marquis de Flamarens, 117 
 the sad object of the sad elegies of the Countess de la 
 Suse : 118 the other was the president Tambonneau, 1I? the 
 most humble and most obedient servant and admirer of the 
 beauteous Luynes. As they arrived together, they exerted 
 every endeavour to shine in concert : their talents were as 
 different as their persons : Tambonneau, who was tolerably 
 ugly, founded his hopes upon a great store of wit, which, 
 however, no person in England could find out ; and 
 Flamarens, by his air and mien, courted admiration, which 
 was flatly denied him. 
 
 They had agreed mutually to assist each other in order to 
 succeed in their intentions ; and, therefore, in their first 
 visits, the one appeared in state, and the other was the 
 .spokesman. But they found the ladies in England of a far 
 different taste from those who had rendered them famous in 
 France : the rhetoric of the one had no effect on the fair sex,
 
 Ct.L'NT GKAMMO.NT. 205 
 
 &nd the fine mien of the other distinguished himoulyin a minuet, 
 which he first introduced into England, and which he danced 
 with tolerable success. The English court had been too long 
 accustomed to the solid wit of Saint Evremond, and the 
 
 natural and singular charms of his hero, to be seduced bv 
 
 * 
 
 appearances : however, as the English have, in general, a sort 
 of predilection in favour of any thing that has the appearance 
 of bravery, Flamareus was better received on account of ii 
 duel, which, obliging him to leave his own country, was a 
 recommendation to him in England. 
 
 Miss Hamilton had, at first, the honour of being distin- 
 guished by Tambonneau, who thought she possessed a suffi- 
 cient share of wit to discover the delicacy of his ; and being 
 delighted to find that nothing was lost in her conversation, 
 either as to the turn, the expression, or beauty of the thought, 
 he frequently did her the favour to converse with her ; and, 
 perhaps, he would never have found out that he was tiresome, 
 if, contenting himself with the display of his eloquence, he 
 had not thought proper to attack her heart. This was carry- 
 ing the matter a little too far for Miss Hamilton's complai- 
 sance, who was of opinion that she had already shewn him 
 too much for the tropes of his harangues : he was, therefore, 
 desired to try somewhere else the experiment of his seducing 
 tongue, and not to lose the merit of his former constancy by 
 an infidelity which would be of no advantage to him. 
 
 He followed this advice like a wise and tractable man ; 
 and some time after, returning to his old mistress in France, 
 he began to lay in a store of politics for those important nego- 
 tiations in which he has since been employed. 
 
 It was not till after his departure that the Chevalier de 
 Grammont heard of the amorous declaration he had made : 
 this was a confidence of no great importance ; it, hosvever, 
 saved Tombonneau from some ridicule which might have
 
 206 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 fallen to his share before he went away. His colleague, 
 Flamarens, deprived of his support, soon perceived that he 
 was not likely to meet in England with the success he had 
 expected, both from love and fortune : but Lord Falmcuth, 
 ever attentive to the glory of his master, in the relief of 
 illustrious men in distress, provided for his subsistence, and 
 Lady Southesk for his pleasures : he obtained a pension from 
 the king, and from her every thing he desired ; and most 
 happy was it for him that she had no other present to bestow 
 but that of her heart. 
 
 It was at this time that Talbot, 120 whom we have before 
 mentioned, and who was afterwards created Duke of Tyr- 
 connel, fell in love with Miss Hamilton. There was not a more 
 genteel man at court : he was indeed but a younger brother, 
 though of a very ancient family, which, however, was not 
 very considerable either for its renown or its riches; and 
 though he was naturally of a careless disposition, yet, being 
 intent upon making his fortune, and much in favour with the 
 Duke of York, and fortune likewise favouring him at play, 
 he had improved both so well, that he was in possession of 
 about forty thousand pounds a year in land. He offered 
 himself to Miss Hamilton, with this fortune, together with 
 the almost certain hopes of being made a peer of the realm, 
 by his master's credit : and, over and above all, as many 
 sacrifices as she could desire of Lady Shrewsbury's letters, 
 pictures, and hair; curiosities which, indeed, are reckoned 
 for nothing in housekeeping, but which testify strongly in 
 favour of the sincerity and merit of a lover. 
 
 Such a rival was not to be despised ; and the Chevalier de 
 Grammont thought him the more dangerous, as he perceived 
 that Talbot was desperately in love ; that he was not a man 
 to be discouraged by a first repulse ; that he had too much 
 sense and good breeding to draw upon himself either con-
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 207 
 
 tempt or coldness by too great eagerness ; and, besides this, 
 his brothers began to frequent the house. One of these 
 brothers was almoner to the queen, 121 an intriguing Jesuit, 
 and a great match-maker : the other was, what was called, 
 a lay-monk, 122 who had nothing of his order but the immo- 
 rality and infamy of character which is ascribed to them ; 
 and withal, frank and free, and sometimes entertaining, but 
 ever ready to speak bold and offensive truths, and to do good 
 offices. 
 
 When the Chevalier de Grammont reflected upon all these 
 things, there certainly was strong ground for uneasiness : nor 
 Avas the indifference 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 altogether 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 haughtiness and independence, which of- 
 fended the Duke of Ormond, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, 
 as injurious to his grace's authority. 123 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 had
 
 208 MEMOIKS UP 
 
 recourse to apologies and submission; but such conduct ap- 
 peared to liim 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 Gramniont 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 
 tho king : " Talbot," said he, " if my services can be of any
 
 COUNT GKAM.MO-NT. 209 
 
 use to you, during your abseuce, you have but to command 
 them : you know, old Russell has left his nephew 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 
 .ick 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 
 cut a laughing, 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 Grainmont possessed a thousand 
 of these genteel 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 Lord 
 Cornwallis : 124 this lord had married the daughter of Sir Ste- 
 phen Fox, 125 treasurer of the king's household, one of the 
 richest and most regular men in England. His son-in-law, on 
 the contrary, was a young spendthrift, was very extravagant, 
 ioved 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 ll'un 
 became a man who had voluntarily resigned his mistress to 
 
 p
 
 210 ME110IRS OP 
 
 another : neither his stay in Ireland, nor his solicitude about 
 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 maids 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 
 i 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;
 
 COl'-Vi' Gl'.AMMONT. 211 
 
 and this is the history of Miss Wannestre, whom we have 
 before mentioned, when speaking of the Chevalier do Gram- 
 uiont. 
 
 Lord Taaffe, 126 eldest son of the Earl of Carliugford, was 
 supposed to be in love with her ; and Miss "Warmestrd not 
 only imagined it was so, but likewise persuaded herself that, 
 he 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. Taaffe 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, 127 notwithstanding his birth, made but an indifferent 
 figure at court ; and the king respected him still less than his 
 courtiers did : and perhaps it was in order to court his 
 - lajesty's favour, that he thought proper 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 128 was charged to acquaint 
 Miss Stewart that the Duke of Richmond was dying of love 
 for her, and that when he ogled her in public, it was a 
 certain sign that he was ready to marry her, as soon as ever 
 she would consent. 
 
 Taaffe 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 
 com r eniences 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
 
 212 MI:MOII:S OF 
 
 pleased in Miss Warmcstre's apartments, provided their 
 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 Warmestre, 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 Killcgrew'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 Warmestre' ; 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 lie was in earne.st ; but when he was
 
 COUNT Cn.VMMONT. 213 
 
 convinced that he was, he began to enumerate the dangers 
 and inconveniences attending so rash an enterprise. He 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 he 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 
 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 Taafie, 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 be 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 all his courage for the enterprise, and got his compli- 
 ment by heart ; but as soon as he had opened his mouth for the 
 purpose, she told him he might have saved himself the trouble 
 of calling on her about such a ridiculous affair; that she 
 had already given her answer to Killegrew; and that she 
 neither had, nor ever should have, any other to give ;
 
 214 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 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 nymph, 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 scoured 
 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 
 
 nate Warmestre, more enraged at this answer than at the loss of 
 such a lover, quitted the court as soon as ever she was able, 
 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 afflicted 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 story : nor did he omit any colour- 
 ing that could heighten his indignation, in order to make him 
 burst with shame and resentment. 
 
 . We read that the gentle Tiridates quietly expired upon the 
 recital of the death of Mariamne ; but Kiliegrew'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 ! Who knows but the 
 beauteous Warmestre 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 lying-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 MEM01US 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 tin*' 
 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, 1 -' 9 a man who had nothing of a Roman in him 
 except the name, had not taken the poor girl to be his Avife. 
 
 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
 
 COL'M GHAMMOXT. 217 
 
 understanding : nor was tliis experiment attended with much 
 difficulty: she was of a loyal family; and her father having 
 faithfully 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, 130 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 them, 
 let us see who were the first maids of honour to her royai 
 highness, and on what account they were removed. 
 
 Besides Miss Blague and Miss Price, whom we have before 
 mentioned, the establishment was composed of Miss Bagot 
 and Miss Hobart, the president of the community. 
 
 Miss Blague, who never knew the true reason of her 
 quarrel with the Marquis de Brisacier, took it up upon that 
 fatal letter she had received from him, wherein, without
 
 218 MEM01US OF 
 
 acquainting her 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, he? fair complexion, and her eyes 
 marcassins. This word she imagined must signify some- 
 thing particularly wonderful, since her eyes were compared to 
 it ; and being de?irous, 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 offer 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 GKAil.MO.Vr. 219 
 
 Poor Miss Price, who had thus voluntarily provoked his 
 resentment, was daily exposed in some new shape : there was 
 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, 131 a gentleman of merit, who 
 was succeeded by Durfort, afterwards Earl of Feversham, 132 
 in the post of lieutenant of the duke's life-guards: Miss 
 Price having tenderly loved him, his death plunged her into 
 i 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 filled with many curious and precious 
 commodities, 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 up in a manner so particularly careful, and 
 therefore caused it to be opened in the presence of some ladies, 
 who happened then to be 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 MEMOlllS OF 
 
 wonderful to sec. 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 
 io 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 cxiltivated, 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 1S3 was the first that gained her tenderness and 
 affection, which she returned at first with equal warmth ami 
 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 GHAMMONT. 22} 
 
 the illustrious liobart, who .seemed so particularly attached to 
 the fair sex, was in reality something more than she appeared 
 to be. 
 
 Satirical ballads soon began to compliment her upon these 
 new attributes ; and upon the insinuations that were therein 
 made, her companions began to fear her. The governess, 
 alarmed at these reports, consulted Lord Rochester upon the 
 danger to which her niece was exposed. She could not have 
 applied to a fitter person : he immediately advised her to take 
 her niece out of the hands of Miss Hobart; and contrived 
 matters so well, that she fell into his own. The duchess, who 
 had too much generosity not to treat as visionary what w;is 
 imputed to Miss Hobart, and too much justice to condemn her 
 upon the faith of lampoons, removed her from the society of 
 the maids of honour, to be an attendant upon her own person. 
 
 Miss Bagot was the only one who was really possessed of 
 virtue and beauty, among these maids of honour : she had 
 beautiful and regular features, and that sort of brown com- 
 plexion, which, when in perfection, is so particularly fasci- 
 nating, and more especially in England, where it is uncommon. 
 There was an involuntary blush almost continually upon her 
 cheek, without having any thing to blush for. Lord Falmouth 
 ca.st his eyes upon her : his addresses were better received 
 than those of Miss Hobart, and some time after Cupid raised 
 her from the post of maid of honour to the duchess, to a rank 
 which might have been envied by all the young ladies in 
 England. 
 
 The Duchess of York, in order to form her new court, 
 resolved to sec all the young persons that offered themselves, 
 and without any regard to recommendations, to choose none 
 but the handsomest. 
 
 At the head of this new assembly appe .red Miss Jennings 1 **
 
 222 MK.MOlllS OF 
 
 and Miss Temple ; 135 and indeed they so entirely eclipsed the 
 other two, that we shall speak of them only. 
 
 Miss Jennings, adorned with all the blooming treasures of 
 youth, had the fairest and brightest complexion that ever was 
 seen : her hair was of a most beauteous flaxen : there w.is 
 something particularly lively and animated in her countenance, 
 which preserved her from that insipidity which is frequently 
 an attendant on a complexion so extremely fair. Her mouth 
 was not the smallest, but it was the handsomest mouth in the 
 world. Nature had endowed her with all those charms which 
 cannot be expressed, and the Graces had given the finishing 
 stroke to them. The turn of her face was exquisitely fine, 
 and her swelling neck was as fair and as bright as her face. 
 In a word, her person gave the idea of Aurora, or the goddess 
 of the spring, " such as youthful poets fancy when they love." 
 But as it would have been unjust that a single person should 
 have engrossed all the treasures of beauty without any defect, 
 there was something wanting in her hands and arms to render 
 them worthy of the rest : her nose was not the most elegant, 
 and her eyes gave some relief, whilst her mouth and her other 
 charms pierced the heart with a thousand darts. 
 
 With this amiable person she was full of wit and spright- 
 liness, and all her actions and motions were unaffected and 
 easy : her conversation was bewitching, when she had a mind 
 to please ; piercing and delicate when disposed to raillery ; 
 but as her imagination was subject to flights, and as she began 
 to speak frequently before she had done thinking, her ex- 
 pressions did not always convey what she wished ; sometimes 
 exceeding, and at others falling short of her ideas. 
 
 Miss Temple, nearly of the same age, was brown compared 
 with the other : si ) had a good shape, fine teeth, languishing 
 eyes, a fresh comple. :ion, an agreeable smile, and a lively air.
 
 COUNT GRAMMOM 1 . 223 
 
 Such was the outward form ; but it would be difficult to do- 
 scribe the rest; for she was simple and vain, credulous and 
 suspicious, coquettish and prudent, very self-sufficient, and 
 very silly. 
 
 As soon as these new stars appeared at the duchess's court, 
 all eyes were fixed upon them, and every one formed some 
 design upon one or other of them, some with honourable, and 
 others with dishonest intentions. Miss Jennings soon distin- 
 guished herself, and left her companions no other admirers 
 but such as remained constant from hopes of success : her 
 brilliant charms attracted at first sight, and the charms of her 
 wit secured her conquests. 
 
 The Duke of York having persuaded himself that she was 
 part of his property, resolved to pursue his claim by the same 
 title whereby his brother had appropriated to himself the 
 favours of Miss Wells ; but he did not find her inclined to 
 enter into his service, though she had engaged in that of the 
 duchess. She would not pay any attention to the perpetual 
 ogling with which he at first attacked her. Her eyes were 
 always wandering on other objects, when those of his royal 
 highness were looking for them ; and if by chance he caught 
 any casual glance, she did not even blush. This made him 
 resolve to change his manner of attack : ogling having proved 
 ineffectual, he took an opportunity to speak to her ; and this 
 was still worse. I know not in what strain he told his case ; 
 but it is certain the oratory of the tongue was not more pre- 
 vailing than the eloquence of his eyes. 
 
 Miss Jennings had both virtue and pride, and the proposals 
 of the duke were consistent with neither the one nor the 
 other. Although from her great vivacity one might suppose 
 that she was not capable of much reflection, yet she had fur- 
 nished herself with some very salutary maxims for the conduct 
 of a young person of her age. The first was, that a lady ought
 
 2^-1 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 to be young to enter the court with advantage, and not old to 
 leave it with a good grace : that she could not maintain her- 
 self there, but by a glorious resistance, or by illustrious foibles ; 
 and that in so dangerous a situation, she ought to use her 
 utmost endeavours not to dispose of her heart, until she gave 
 Tier hand. 
 
 Entertaining such sentiments, she had far less trouble to 
 resist the duke's temptations, than to disengage herself from 
 his perseverance : she was deaf to all treaties for a settlement, 
 with which her ambition was sounded ; and all offers of pre- 
 sents succeeded still worse. What was then to be done to 
 conquer an extravagant virtue that would not hearken to 
 reason ? He was ashamed to suffer a giddy young girl to 
 escape, whose inclinations ought in some manner to corre- 
 spond with the vivacity that shone forth in all her actions, 
 and who nevertheless thought proper to be serious when no 
 such thing as seriousness was required of her. 
 
 After he had attentively considered her obstinate beha- 
 viour, he thought that writing might perhaps succeed, though 
 ogling, speeches, and embassies had failed. Paper receives 
 every thing, but it unfortunately happened that she would not 
 receive the paper. Every day billets, containing the tender- 
 est expressions, and most magnificent promises, were slipped 
 into her pockets, or into her muff: this, however, could not 
 be done unperceived ; and the malicious little gipsy took care 
 that those who saw them slip in, should likewise see them fall 
 out, unperused and unopened ; she only shook her muff, or 
 pulled out her handkerchief; as soon as ever his back was 
 turned, his billets fell about her like hailstones, and whoever 
 pleased might take them up. The duchess was frequently 
 a witness of this conduct ; but could not find in her heart 
 to chide her for her want of respect to the duke. After 
 this, the charms and prudence of Miss Jennings were the only
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 22o 
 
 subjects of conversation in the two court.-; : the courtiers could 
 not comprehend Low a young creature, brought directly from 
 the country to court, should so soon become its ornament by 
 her attractions, and its example by her conduct. 
 
 The king was of opinion, those who had attacked her had 
 ill concerted their measures ; for he thought it unnatural that 
 she should neither be tempted by promises, nor gained by 
 importunity : she, especially, who in all probability had not 
 imbibed such severe precepts from the prudence of her 
 mother, who had never tasted any thing more delicious than 
 the plums and apricots of Saint Alban's.^ Being resolved 
 to try her himself, he was particularly pleased with the 
 great novelty that appeared in the turn of her wit, and in the 
 charms of her person ; and curiosity, which at first induced 
 him to make the trial, was soon changed into a desire of 
 succeeding in the experiment. God knows what might have 
 been the consequence, for he greatly excelled in wit, and 
 besides he was king : two qualities of no small consideration. 
 1 he resolutions of the fair Jennings were commendable and 
 very judicious ; but yet she was wonderfully pleased with wit ; 
 and royal majesty, prostrate at the feet of a young person, is 
 very persuasive. Miss Me wart, however, would not consent 
 to the king's project. 
 
 She immediately took the alarm, and desired his majesty 
 to leave to the duke, his brother, the care of tutoring the 
 duchess's maids of honour, and only to attend to the manage- 
 ment of his own flock, unless his majesty would in return 
 allow her to listen to certain proposals of a settlement which 
 she did not think disadvantageous. This menace being of a 
 serious nature, the king obeyed ; and Miss Jennings had all 
 the additional honour which arose from this adventure : it 
 both added to her reputation, and increased the number of 
 her admirers. Thus she continued to triumph over the liber- 
 
 Q
 
 226 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ties of others, without ever losing her own : her hour was not 
 yet come, but it was not far distant ; the particulars of which 
 we shall relate, as soon as we have given some account of the 
 conduct of her companion. 
 
 Though Miss Temple's person was particularly engaging, 
 it was nevertheless eclipsed by that of Miss Jennings ; but 
 she was still more excelled by the other's superior mental 
 accomplishments. Two persons, very capable to impart un- 
 derstanding, had the gift been communicable, undertook at 
 the same time to rob her of the little she really possessed : 
 these were Lord Rochester and Miss Hobart : the first began 
 to mislead her, by reading to her all his compositions, as if 
 she alone had been a proper judge of them. He never 
 thought proper to flatter her upon her personal accomplish- 
 ments ; but told her, that if heaven had made him suscepti- 
 ble of the impressions of beauty, it would not have been 
 possible for him to have escaped her chains ; but not being, 
 thank God, affected with any thing but wit, he had the 
 happiness of enjoying the most agreeable conversation in the 
 world, without running any risk. After so sincere a confes- 
 sion, he either presented to her a copy of verses, or a new 
 song, in which, whoever dared to come in competition in any 
 respect with Miss Temple, was laid prostrate before her 
 charms, most humbly to solicit pardon : such flattering 
 insinuations so completely turned her head, that it was a pity 
 to see her. 
 
 The duchess took notice of it, and well knowing the extent 
 of both their geniuses, she saw the precipice into which the 
 poor girl was running headlong without perceiving it ; but 
 as it is no less dangerous to forbid a connection that is not yet 
 thought of, than it is difficult to put an end to one that is 
 already well established, Miss Hobart was charged to take 
 care, with all possible discretion, that these frequent and long
 
 COUNT GRAMMOST. 
 
 conversations might not be attended with any dangerous 
 consequences : with pleasure she accepted the commission, 
 and greatly flattered herself with success. 
 
 She had already made all necessary advances, to gain pos- 
 session of her confidence and friendship ; and Miss Temple, 
 less suspicious of her than of Lord Rochester, made all 
 imaginable returns. She was greedy of praise, and loved all 
 manner of sweetmeats, as much :is a child of nine or ten 
 years old : her taste was gratified in both these respects. 
 Miss Hobart having the superintendence of the duchess's 
 baths, her apartment joined them, in which there was a closet 
 stored with all sorts of sweetmeats and liqueurs : the closet 
 suited Miss Temple's taste, as exactly as it gratified Miss 
 Hobart's inclination, to have something that could allure her. 
 
 Summer, being now returned, brought back with it the plea- 
 sures and diversions that are its inseparable attendants. One 
 day, when the ladies had been taking the air on horseback. 
 Miss Temple, on her return from riding, alighted at Miss 
 Hobart's, in order to recover her fatigue at the expense of 
 the sweetmeats, which she knew were there at her service ; 
 but before she began, she desired Miss Hobart's permission to 
 undress herself and change her linen in her apartment ; 
 which request was immediately complied with : " I was just 
 going to propose it to you," said Miss Hobart, " not but that 
 you are as charming as an angel in your riding-habit ; but 
 there is nothing so comfortable as a loose dress, and being at 
 one's ease : you cannot imagine, my dear Temple," continued 
 she, embracing her, " how much you oblige me by this free 
 unceremonious conduct ; but above all, I am enchanted with 
 vour particular attention to cleanliness : how greatly you 
 differ in this, as in many other things, from that silly creature 
 Jennings ! Have you remarked how all our court fops admire 
 her for her brilliant complexion, which perhaps, after all, i; 
 
 Q2
 
 228 MKMOIR3 OK 
 
 jot wholly her own ; and for blunders, which are truly 
 original and which they are such fools as to mistake for wit : 
 I ha T *e not conversed with her long enough to perceive in what 
 her wit consists ; but of this I am certain, that if it is not 
 better than her feet, it is no great matter. What stories have 
 I heard of her sluttishness ! No cat ever dreaded water so 
 much as she does : Fie upon her ! Never to wash for her 
 own comfort, and only to attend to those parts which must 
 necessarily be seen, such as the neck and hands." 
 
 Miss Temple swallowed all this with even greater pleasure 
 than the sweetmeats ; and the officious Hobart, not to lose 
 time, was helping her off with her clothes, while the chamber- 
 maid was coming. She made some objections to this at first, 
 being unwilling to occasion that trouble to a person, who, 
 like Miss Hobart, had been advanced to a place of dignity ; 
 but she was overruled by her, and assured, that it was with 
 the greatest pleasure she shewed her that small mark of 
 civility. The collation being finished, and Miss Temple un- 
 dressed : "Let us retire," said Miss Ilobart, "to the bathing 
 closet, where we may enjoy a little conversation, secure from 
 any impertinent visit." Miss Temple consented, and both of 
 them sitting down on a couch : " You are too young, my dear 
 Temple," said she, "to know the baseness of men in generr;!. 
 and too short a time acquainted with the court, to know the 
 character of its inhabitants. I will give you a short sketch 
 of the principal persons, to the best of my knowledge, without 
 injury to any one ; for I abominate the trade of scandal. 
 
 " In the first place, then, you ought to set it down as an 
 undoubted fact, that all courtiers are deficient, either in 
 honesty, good sense, judgment, wit, or .sincerity ; tbat is to 
 say, if any of them by chance possess some one of these 
 qualities, you may depend upon it he is defective in the 
 rest : sumptuous in their equipages, deop play, a great opinion
 
 COUNT GKAMMONT. 20 
 
 f their own merit, and contempt of that of others, are their 
 chief characteristics. 
 
 " Interest or pleasure are the motives of all their actions : 
 those who are led by the first, would sell God Almighty, as 
 Judas sold his Master, and that for less money. I could 
 relate you a thousand noble instances of this, if I had time. 
 As for the sectaries of pleasure, or those who pretend to be 
 such, for they are not all so bad as they endeavour to make 
 themselves appear, these gentlemen pay no manner of regard, 
 either to promises, oaths, law, or religion ; that is to say, 
 they are literally no respecters of persons ; they care neither 
 for God nor man, if they can but gain their ends. They 
 look upon maids 1 of honour only as amusements, placed ex- 
 pressly at court for their entertainment ; and the more merit 
 any one has, the more she is exposed to their impertinence, 
 if she gives i.ny car to them; and to their malicious calum- 
 nies, when she ceases to attend to them. As for husbands, 
 this is not the place to find them ; for unless money or caprice 
 make up the match, there is but little hopes of being married: 
 virtue and beauty in this respect here are equally useless. 
 Lady Falmouth is the only instance of a maid of honour 
 well married without a portion ; and if you were to ask her 
 poor weak husband f<;r what reason he married her, I am 
 persuaded that he can assign none, unless it be her great 
 red ears, and broad feet. As for the pale Lady Yarborough, 
 who appeared so proud of her match, she is wife, to be sure, 
 of a great country bumpkin, who, the very week after their 
 marriage, bid her take her farewell of the town for ever, in 
 consequence of five or six thousand pounds a year he enjoys 
 <>u the borders of Cornwall. Alas! poor Miss Blague! I 
 .saw her go away about this time twelvemonth, in a coach 
 with four such lean horses, that I cannot believe she is yet 
 lialf-wav to her miserable little castle. What can be the
 
 230 ML.MUUI.S UP 
 
 matter ! all the girls seem afflicted with the rage of wedlock, 
 and however small their portion of charms may be, they 
 think it only necessary to shew themselves at court, in order 
 to pick and choose their men : but was this in reality the 
 case, the being a wife is the most wretched condition ima- 
 ginable for a person of nice sentiments. Believe me, my dear 
 Temple, the pleasures of matrimony are so inconsiderable, in 
 comparison with its inconveniences, that I cannot imagine 
 how any reasonable creature can resolve upon it : rather fly, 
 therefore, from this irksome engagement than court it. Jea- 
 lousy, formerly a stranger to these happy isles, is now com- 
 ing into fashion, with many recent examples of which you 
 are acquainted. However brilliant the phantom may appear, 
 suffer not yourself to be caught by its splendour, and never 
 be so weak as to transform your slave into your tyrant : as 
 long as you preserve your own liberty, you will be mistress 
 of that of others. I will relate to you a very recent proof 
 of the perfidy of man to our sex, and of the impunity they 
 experience in all attempts upon our innocence. The Earl of 
 Oxford l37 fell in love with a handsome, graceful actress, be- 
 longing to the duke's theatre, who performed to perfection, 
 particularly the part of Roxana, in a very fashionable new 
 play, insomuch that she ever after retained that name : tins 
 creature being both very virtuous, and very modest, or, if 
 you please, wonderfully obstinate, proudly rejected the ad- 
 dresses and presents of the Earl of Oxford. This resistance 
 inflamed his passion : he had recourse to invectives, and even 
 to spells; but all in vain. This disappointment had such 
 effect upon him, that he could neither eat nor drink ; this 
 did not signify to him ; but hid passion at length became so 
 violent, that he could neither play nor smoke. In this ex- 
 tremity, love had recourse to Hymen : the Earl of Oxford, 
 one of the first peers of the realm, is, you know, a very
 
 COUNT CRA.MMONT. 231 
 
 handsome man : lie is of the order of the garter, which 
 greatly adds to an air naturally noble. In short, from his 
 outward appearance, you would suppose he was really pos- 
 sessed of some sense ; but as soon as ever you hear him 
 speak, you are perfectly convinced of the contrary. This 
 passionate lover presented her with a promise of marriage, in 
 due form, signed with his own hand : she would not, how- 
 ever, rely upon this, but the next day she thought there 
 could be no danger, when the earl himself came to her 
 lodgings attended by a clergyman, and another man for a 
 witness : the marriage was accordingly solemnized with all due 
 ceremonies, in the presence of one of her fellow-players, who 
 attended as a witness on her part. You will suppose, per- 
 haps, that the new countess had nothing to do but to appear 
 at court according to her rank, and to display the earl's arms 
 upon her carriage. This was far from being the case. When 
 examination was made concerning the marriage, it was found 
 to be a mere deception : it appeared that the pretended priest 
 was one of my lord's trumpeters, and the witness his kettle- 
 drummer. The parson and his companion never appeared 
 after the ceremony was over ; and as for the other witness, 
 they endeavoured to persuade her, that the Sultana Roxana 
 might have supposed, in some part or other of a play, that 
 she was really married. It was all to no purpose, that the 
 poor creature claimed the protection of the laws of God and 
 man, both which were violated and abused, as well as her- 
 self, by this infamous imposition : in vain did she throw her- 
 self at the king's feet to demand justice : she had only to rise 
 up again without redress ; and happy might she think her- 
 self to receive an annuity of one thousand crowns, and to 
 resume the name of Roxana, instead of Countess of Oxford. 
 You will say, perhaps, that she was only a player; that all 
 nxen have not the same sentiments as the earl ; and, that one
 
 232 MEMOIRS OK 
 
 may at least believe them, when they do but render justice to 
 such merit as yours. But still do not believe them, though I 
 know you are liable to it, as you have admirers ; for all are 
 not infatuated with Miss Jennings : the handsome Sidney 
 ogles you ; Lord Rochester is delighted with your conversa- 
 tion ; and the most serious Sir Charles Lyttleton forsakes his 
 natural gravity in favour of your charms. As for the first, 
 I confess his figure is very likely to engage the inclinations 
 of a young person like yourself; but were his outward form 
 attended with other accomplishments, which I know it is not, 
 and that his sentiments in your favour were as real as he 
 endeavours to persuade you they are, and as you deserve, yet 
 I would not advise you to form any connections with him, for 
 reasons which I cannot tell you at present. 
 
 " Sir Charles Lyttleton is undoubtedly in earnest, since he 
 appears ashamed of the condition to which you have reduced 
 him ; and I really believe, if he could get the better of those 
 vulgar chimerical apprehensions, of being what is vulgarly 
 called a cuckold, the good man would marry you, and you 
 would be his representative in his little government, where 
 you might merrily pass your days in casting up the weekly 
 bills of housekeeping, and in darning old napkins. What a 
 glory would it be to have a Cato for a husband, whose 
 speeches are as many lectures, and whose lectures are com- 
 posed of nothing but ill-nature and censure ! 
 
 *' Lord Rochester is, without contradiction, the most witty 
 man in all England ; but then he is likewise the most unprin- 
 cipled, and devoid even of the least tincture of honour : he 
 is dangerous to our sex alone ; and that to such a degree, 
 that there is not a woman who gives ear to him three times, 
 but she irretrievably loses her reputation. No woman can 
 escape him, for he has her in his writings, though his other 
 attacks be ineffectual ; and in the age we live in, the one is
 
 COUNT GitA.M.MOM. -S3 
 
 as bud as the other, in the eye of the public. In the mean 
 time nothing is more dangerous than the artful insinuating 
 manner with which he gains possession of the mind : he 
 applauds your taste, submits to your sentiments, and at the 
 very instant that he himself does not believe a single word 
 of what he is saying, he makes you believe it all. I dare 
 lay a wager, that fr:>m the conversation you have had with 
 him, you thought him one of the most honourable and sin- 
 cerest men living : for my part, I cannot imagine what he 
 means by the assiduity he pays you : not but your accom- 
 plishments are sufficient to excite the adoration and praise of 
 the whole world ; but had he even been so fortunate as to 
 have gained your affections, he would not know what to do 
 with the loveliest creature at court : for it is a long time 
 since his debauches have brought him to order, with the 
 assistance of the favours of all the common street-walkers. 
 See, then, my dear Temple, what horrid malice possesses 
 him, to the ruin and confusion of innocence ! A. wretch ! 
 to have no other design in his addresses and assiduities to 
 Miss Temple, but to give a greater air of probability to 
 the calumnies with which he has loaded her. You look upon 
 me with astonishment, and seem to doubt the truth of what I 
 advance ; but I do not desire you to believe me without 
 evidence : here," said she, drawing a paper out of her 
 pocket, " see what a copy of verses he has made in your 
 praise, while he lulls your credulity to rest, by flattering 
 speeches and feigned respect." 
 
 After saying this, the perfidious Hobart shewed her half a 
 dozen couplets full of strained invective and scandal, which 
 I'ochester had made against the former maids of honour. 
 This severe and cutting lampoon was principally levelled 
 :i_rainst Miss Price, whose person he took to pieces in the most 
 frightful and hideous manner imaginable. Miss Hobart had
 
 234 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 substituted the name of Temple instead of Price, which she 
 made to agree, both with the measure and tune of the song. 
 This effectually answered Hobart's intentions : the credulous 
 Temple no sooner heard her sing the lampoon, but she firmly 
 believed it to be made upon herself; and in the first transports 
 of her rage, having nothing so much at heart as to give the 
 lie to the fictions of the poet : " Ah ! as for this, my dear 
 Hobart," said she, " I can bear it no longer : I do not pretend 
 to be so handsome as some others ; but as for the defects that 
 villain charges me with, I dare say, my dear Hobart, there is 
 no woman more free from them : we are alone, and I am al- 
 most inclined to convince you by ocular demonstration." Miss 
 Hobart was too complaisant to oppose this motion ; but, al- 
 though she soothed her mind by extolling all her beauties, in 
 opposition to Lord Rochester's song, Miss Temple was almost 
 driven to distraction by rage and astonishment, that the first 
 man she ever attended to, should, in his conversation with her, 
 not even make use of a single word of truth, but that he 
 should likewise have the unparalleled cruelty, falsely to accuse 
 her of defects ; and not being able to find words capable of 
 expressing her anger and resentment, she began to weep like 
 a child. 
 
 Miss Hobart used all her endeavours to comfort her, and 
 chid her for being so much hurt with the invectives of a per- 
 son, whose scandalous impostures were too well known to 
 make any impression : she however advised her never to speak 
 to him any more, for that was the only method to disappoint 
 his designs ; that contempt and silence were, on such occasions, 
 much preferable to any explanation, and that if he could once 
 obtain a hearing, he would be justified, but she would be 
 ruined. 
 
 Miss Hobart was not wrong in giving her this counsel : she 
 know that an explanation would betray her, and that there
 
 COUNT GBAMMONT. 235 
 
 would be no quarter for lier, if Lord Rochester had so fair an 
 opportunity of renewing his former panegyrics upon her; 
 but her precaution was in vain : this conversation had been 
 heard from one end to the other, by the governess's niece, who 
 was blessed with a most faithful memory; and, having that 
 very day an appointment with Lord Rochester, she conned it 
 over three or four times, that she might not forget one single 
 word, when she should have the honour of relating it to her 
 lover. We shall shew in the next chapter, what were the 
 consequences resulting from it.
 
 236 MEMOIRS 01' 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE conversation before related was agreeable only to Miss 
 Hobart; for, if Miss Temple was entertained with its com- 
 mencement, she was so much the more irritated by its con- 
 clusion : this indignation was succeeded by the curiosity of 
 knowing the reason why, if Sidney had a real esteem for her, 
 she should not be allowed to pay some attention to him. The 
 tender-hearted Hobart, unable to refuse her any request, pro- 
 mised her this piece of confidence, as soon as she should bo 
 secure of her conduct towards Lord Rochester : for this slit- 
 only desired a trial of her sincerity for three days, after which, 
 she assured her, she would acquaint her with every thing she 
 wished to know. Miss Temple protested she no longer 
 regarded Lord Rochester but as a monster of perfidiousuo.ss, 
 and vowed, by all that was sacred, that she would never listen 
 to him, much less speak to him, as long as she lived. 
 
 As soon as they retired from the closet, Miss Sarah came 
 out of the bath, where, during all this conversation, she hud 
 been almost perished with cold without daring to complain. 
 This little gypsy had, it seems, obtained leave of Miss 
 Hobart's woman to bathe herself unknown to her mistress ; 
 and having, I know not how, found means to fill one of the 
 baths with cold water, Miss Sarah had just got into it, when 
 they were both alarmed with the arrival of the other two. A 
 glass partition inclosed the room where the baths were, and 
 Indian silk-curtains, which drew on the inside, screened those 
 that were bathing. Miss Hobart's chambermaid had only 
 just time to draw these curtains, that the girl might not be
 
 COf NT t, RAM MOM. 23? 
 
 seen, to lock the partition doov, and to take away the key, 
 before her mistress and Miss Temple came in. 
 
 These two sat down on a conch placed along the partition, 
 and Miss Sarah, notwithstanding her alarms, had distinctly 
 heard, and perfectly retained the whole conversation. As the 
 little girl was at all this trouble to make herself clean, only on 
 Lord Rochester's account, as soon as ever she could make her 
 escape, she regained her garret ; where Rochester, having 
 repaired thither at the appointed hour, was fully informed of 
 all that had passed in the bathing- room. He was astonished 
 at the audacious temerity of llobart, in daring to put such a 
 trick upon him; but, though he rightly judged that love and 
 jealousy were the real motives, he would not excuse her. Lit- 
 tle Sarah desired to know, whether he had a real aflection for 
 -Miss Temple, as Miss llobart said she supposed that was the 
 case. "Can you doubt it," replied he, "since that oracle of 
 sincerity has affirmed it ? But then you know that I am not 
 HOW capable of profiting by my perfidy, were I even to gain 
 Miss Temple's compliance, since my debauches and the street- 
 walkers have brought me to order." 
 
 This answer made Miss Sarah very easy, for she concluded 
 that the first article was not true, .since she knew from expe- 
 rience that the latter was false. Lord Rochester was resolved 
 that very evening to attend the duchess's court, to see what 
 reception he would meet with after the fine portrait Miss 
 llobart had been sx> kind as to draw of him. Miss Temple 
 did not fail to be there likewise, with the intention of looking 
 on him with the most contemptuous disdain possible, though 
 she had taken care to dress herself as well as she could. As 
 she supposed that the lampoon Miss Hobart had sung to her 
 was in every body's possession, she was under great embar- 
 rassment lest all those whom she met should think her such a 
 monster as Lord Rochester had described her. In the mean
 
 238 MK3I01RS OP 
 
 time, Miss Hobart, who had not much confidence in her pro- 
 raises never more to speak to him, narrowly watched her. 
 Miss Temple never in her life appeared so handsome : every 
 person complimented her upon it ; but she received all these 
 civilities with such an air, that every one thought she was 
 mad ; for when they commended her shape, her fresh com- 
 plexion, and the brilliancy of her eyes : " Pshaw," said she, 
 " it is very well known that I am but a monster, and formed 
 in no respect like other women : all is not gold that glisters ; 
 and though I may receive some compliments in public, it sig- 
 nifies nothing." All Miss Hobart's endeavours to stop her 
 tongue were ineffectual ; and, continuing to rail at herself 
 ironically, the whole court was puzzled to comprehend her 
 meaning. 
 
 When Lord Rochester came in, she first blushed, then 
 turned pale, made a motion to go towards him, drew back 
 again, pulled her gloves one after the other up to the elbow ; 
 and after having three times violently flirted her fan, she 
 waited until he paid his compliments to her as usual, and as 
 soon as he began to bow, the fair one immediately turned her 
 back upon him. Rochester only smiled, and being resolved 
 that her resentment should be still more remarked, he turned 
 round, and posting himself face to face : " Madam," said he, 
 " nothing can be so glorious as to look so charming as you 
 do, after such a fatiguing day : to support a ride of three 
 long hours, and Miss Hobart afterwards, without being tired, 
 shews indeed a very strong constitution." 
 
 Miss Temple had naturally a tender look, but she was 
 transported with such a violent passion at his having the 
 audacity to speak to her, that her eyes appeared like two 
 fire-balls when she turned them upon him. Hobart pinched 
 her arm, as she perceived that this look was likely to bo fol- 
 lowed by a torrent of reproaches and invectives.
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 23'J 
 
 Lord Rochester did not wait for them, and delaying until 
 another opportunity the acknowledgments he owed Miss Ho- 
 bart, he quietly retired. The latter, who could not imagine 
 that he knew any thing of their conversation at the bath, 
 was, however, much alarmed at what he had said ; but Miss 
 Temple, almost choked with the reproaches with which she 
 thought herself able to confound him, and which she had not 
 time to give vent to, vowed to ease her mind of them upon 
 the first opportunity, notwithstanding the promise she had 
 made ; but never more to speak to him afterwards. 
 
 Lord Rochester had a faithful spy near these nymphs : 
 this was Miss Sarah, who, by his advice, and with her aunt's 
 consent, was reconciled with Miss Hobart, the more effec- 
 tually to betray her : he was informed by this spy, that Miss 
 Hobart's maid, being suspected of having listened to them in 
 the closet, had been turned away ; that she had taken another, 
 whom, in all probability, she would not keep long, because, 
 in the first place, she was ugly, and, in the second, she eat the 
 sweetmeats that were prepared for Miss Temple. Although 
 this intelligence was not very material, Sarah was nevertheless 
 praised for her punctuality and attention ; and a few days 
 afterwards, she brought him news of real importance. 
 
 Rochester was by her informed, that Miss Hobart and her 
 new favourite designed, about nine o'clock in the evening, to 
 walk in the Mall, in the Park ; that they were to change 
 clothes with each other, to put on scarfs, and wear black 
 masks : she added, that Miss Hobart had strongly opposed 
 this project, but that she was obliged to give way at last, Miss 
 Temple having resolved to indulge her fancy. 
 
 Upon the strength of this intelligence, Rochester con- 
 certed his measures : he went to Killegrew, complained to 
 him of the trick which Miss Hobart had played him, and de- 
 sired his assistance in order to be revenged : this was readily
 
 240 .MUM 
 
 granted, and having acquainted him with the measures he in- 
 tended to pursue, and given him the part he was to act in this 
 adventure, they went to the Mall. 
 
 Presently after appeared our two nymphs in masquerade : 
 their shapes were not very different, and their faces, which 
 were very unlike each other, were concealed with their masks. 
 The company was but thin in the Park ; and as soon as Miss 
 Temple perceived them at a distance, she quickened her pace 
 in order to join them, with the design, under her disguise, 
 severely to reprimand the perfidious Rochester; when Miss 
 Hobart stopping her: "Where are you running to?" said 
 she ; " have you a mind to engage in conversation with these 
 two devils, to be exposed to all the insolence and imperti- 
 nence for which they are so notorious ?" These remonstrances 
 were entirely useless : Miss Temple was resolved to try the 
 experiment : and all that could be obtained from her, 
 was, not to answer any of the questions Rochester might 
 ask her. 
 
 They were accosted just as they had done speaking : Ro- 
 chester fixed upon Hobart, pretending to take her for the 
 other ; at which she was overjoyed ; but Miss Temple was ex- 
 tremely sorry she fell to Killegrew's share, with whom she had 
 nothing to do : he perceived her uneasiness, and, pretending 
 to know her by her clothes : " Ah ! Miss Hobart," said he, 
 " be so kind as look this way if you please : I know not by 
 what chance you both came hither, but I am sure it is very 
 apropos for you, since I have something to say to you, as 
 your friend and humble servant." 
 
 This beginning raising her curiosity, Miss Temple appeared 
 more inclined to attend him ; and Killegrew perceiving that 
 the other couple had insensibly proceeded some distance from 
 them : " In the name of God," said he : " what do you 
 mean by railing so against Lord Rochester, whom you know
 
 (Ol'M GUAM-. l'4l 
 
 to be one of the most honourable men at court, and whom 
 you nevertheless described as the greatest villain, to the 
 -un whom of all others he esteems and respects the most ? 
 AVhat do you think would become of you, if he knew that 
 you made Miss Temple believe she is the person alluded to 
 in a certain song, which you know as well as myself wa< 
 made upon the clumsy Miss Price, above a year before the 
 fair Temple was heard of? Be not surprised that I know 
 so much of the matter ; but pay a little attention, I pray 
 you, to what I am now going to tell you out of pure friend- 
 ship : your passion and inclinations for Miss Temple are 
 known to every one but herself; for whatever methods you 
 used to impose upon her innocence, the world does her the 
 justice to believe that she would treat you as Lady Falmouth 
 did, if the poor girl knew the wicked designs you had upon 
 her : I caution you, therefore, against making any further 
 advances, to a person, too modest to listen to them : I advi-o 
 you likewise to take back your maid again, in order to silence 
 her scandalous tongue ; for she says everywhere that she is 
 vrith child, that you are the occasion of her being in that 
 condition, and accuses you of behaving towards her with the 
 blackest ingratitude, upon trifling suspicions only : you know 
 very well, these are no stories of my own invention : but 
 that you may not entertain any manner of doubt, that I had 
 all this from her own mouth, she has told me your conversa- 
 tion in the bathing-room, the characters you there drew of 
 the principal men at court, your artful malice in applying so 
 improperly a scandalous song to one of the loveliest women 
 in all England; and in -what manner the innocent girl fell 
 into the snare you had laid for her, in order to do justice t<> 
 her charms. But that which might be of the most fatal con- 
 sequences to you in that long conversation, is the revealing 
 certain secrets, which, in all probability, the duchess aid not 
 
 n
 
 242 MKJIOIRS OF 
 
 intrust you with, to be imparted to the maids of honour: 
 reflect upon this, and neglect not to make some reparation to 
 Sir Charles Lyttletou, for the ridicule with which you were 
 pleased to load him. I know not whether he had his infor- 
 mation from your femme-de~chamlre, but I am very certain 
 that he has sworn he will be revenged, and he is a man that 
 keeps his word ; for after all, that you may not be deceived 
 by his look, like that of a Stoic, and his gravity, like that of 
 a judge, I must acquaint you, that he is the most passionate 
 man living. Indeed, these invectives are of the blackest and 
 most horrible nature : he says it is most infamous, that a 
 wretch like yourself should find no other employment than 
 to blacken the characters of gentlemen to gratify your jea- 
 lousy ; that if you do not desist from such conduct for the 
 future, he will immediately complain of you ; and that if 
 her royal highness will not do him justice, he is determined 
 to do himself justice, and to run you through the body with 
 his own sword, though you were even in the arms of Miss 
 Temple ; and that it is most scandalous that all the maids of 
 honour should get into your hands before they can look 
 around them. 
 
 " These things, madam, I thought it my duty to acquaint 
 you with : you are better able to judge than myself, whether 
 what I have now advanced bo true, and I leave it to your 
 own discretion to make what use you think proper of my 
 advice ; but were I in yonr situation, I would endeavour to 
 reconcile Lord Rochester and Miss Temple. Once more I 
 recommend to you to take care that your endeavours to 
 mislead her innocency, in order to blast his honour, may not 
 come to his knowledge ; and do not estrange from her a man 
 who tenderly loves her, and whose probity is so great, that 
 he would not even suffer his eyes to wander towards her, 
 if his intention was not to make her his wife."
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 243 
 
 Miss Temple observed her promise most faithfully during. 
 this discourse : she did not even utter a single syllable, being 
 seized with such astonishment and confusion, that she quite 
 lost the use of her tongue. 
 
 Miss Ilobart and Lord Rochester came up to her, while 
 she was still in amazement at the wonderful discoveries she 
 had made ; things in themselves, in her opinion, almost in- 
 credible, but to the truth of which she could not refuse her 
 assent, upon examining the evidences and circumstances on 
 which they were founded. Never was confusion equal to 
 that with which her whole frame was seized by the foregoing 
 recital. 
 
 Rochester and Killegrew took leave of them before she 
 recovered from her surprise ; but as soon as she had regained 
 the free use of her senses, she hastened back to St. James's, 
 without answering a single question that the other put to 
 her ; and having locked herself up in her chamber, the first 
 thing she did was immediately to strip off Miss Hobart's 
 clothes, lest she should be contaminated by them ; for after 
 what she had been told concerning her, she looked upon her 
 a>j a monster, dreadful to the innocence of the fair sex, of 
 whatever sex she might be ; she blushed at the familiarities 
 she had been drawn into with a creature, whose maid was 
 with child, though she never had been in any other service 
 but hers : she therefore returned her all her clothes, ordered 
 her servant to bring back all her own, and resolved never 
 more to have any connection with her. Miss Hobart, on 
 the other hand, who supposed Killegrew had mistaken Miss 
 Temple for herself, could not comprehend what could induce 
 her to give herself such surprising airs, since that conversa- 
 tion ; but being desirous to come to an explanation, she ordered 
 3Ii>g Temple's maid to remain in her apartments, and went 
 to call upon Mi^ Teir.plc herself, instead of sending back 
 
 R 2
 
 2-il MEMOIRS OP 
 
 her clothes; and being desirous to give her some proof of 
 friendship before they entered upon expostulations, she slipt 
 softly into her chamber, when she was in the very act ot 
 changing her linen, and embraced her. Miss Temple finding 
 herself in her arms before she had taken notice of her, every 
 thing that Killegrew had mentioned appeared to her ima- 
 gination : she fancied that she saw in her looks the eagerness 
 of a satyr, or, if possible, of some monster still more odious ; 
 and disengaging herself with the highest indignation from 
 her arms, she began to shriek and cry in the most terrible 
 manner, calling both heaven and earth to her assistance. 
 
 The first whom her cries raised were the governess and 
 her niece. It was near twelve o'clock at night: Miss Temple 
 in her shift, almost frightened to death, was pushing back 
 with horror Miss Hobart, who approached her with no other 
 intent than to know the occasion of those transports. As 
 soon as the governess saw this scene, she began to lecture 
 Miss Hobart with all the eloquence of a real duenna : she 
 demanded of her, whether she thought it was for her that 
 her royal highness kept the maids of honour ? whether she 
 was not ashamed to come at such an unseasonable time of 
 night into their very apartments to commit such vio]ences ? 
 and swore that she would, the very next day, complain to 
 the duchess. All this confirmed Miss Temple in her mis- 
 taken notions; and Hobart was obliged to go away at last, 
 without being able to convince or bring to reason creatures, 
 whom she believed to be either distracted or mad. The next 
 day Miss Sarah did not fail to relate this adventure to her 
 lover, telling him how Miss Temple's cries had alarmed the 
 maids of honour's apartment, and how herself and her aunt, 
 running to her assistance, had almost surprised Miss Hobart 
 in the very act. 
 
 Two days after, the whole adventure, with the addition
 
 COUNT GKA.MMOXT. 24."5 
 
 of several embellishments, was made public: the governess 
 swore to the truth of it, and related in every company what 
 a narrow escape Miss Temple had experienced, and that Miss 
 Sarah, her niece, had preserved her honour, because, by Lord 
 Rochester's excellent advice, she had forbidden her all manner 
 of connection with so dangerous a person. Miss Temple was 
 afterwards informed, that the song that had so greatly pro- 
 voked her, alluded to Miss Price only : this was confirmed 
 to her by every person, with additional execrations against 
 Miss Hobart, for such a scandalous imposition. Such great 
 coldness after so much familiarity, made many believe that 
 this adventure was not altogether a fiction. 
 
 This had been sufficient to have disgraced Miss Hobart at 
 court, and to have totally ruined her reputation in London, 
 had she not been, upon the present, as well as upon a former 
 occasion, supported by the duchess : her royal highness pre- 
 tended to treat the whole story as romantic and visionary, or 
 as solely arising from private pique : she chid Miss Temple, 
 for her impertinent credulity; turned away the governess 
 and her niece, for the lies with which she pretended they 
 supported the imposture ; and did many improper things in 
 order to re-establish Miss Hobart's honour, which, however, 
 she failed in accomplishing. She had her reasons for not 
 entirely abandoning her, as will appear in the sequel. 
 
 Miss Temple, who continually reproached herself with in- 
 justice, with respect to Lord Rochester, and who, upon tho 
 faith of Killegrew's word, thought him the most honourable 
 man in England, was only solicitous to find out some oppor- 
 tunity of easing her mind, by making him some reparation 
 for the rigour with which she had treated him : these favour- 
 able disposition.?, in the hands of a man of his character, 
 might have led to consequences of which she was not aware :
 
 246 MOIOIKS OF 
 
 but heaven did not allow him an opportunity of profiting by 
 them. 
 
 Ever since he had first appeared at court, he seldom failed 
 being banished from it, at least once in the year ; for, when- 
 ever a word presented itself to his pen, or to his tongue, he 
 immediately committed it to paper, or produced it in conver- 
 sation, without any manner of regard to the consequences : 
 the ministers, the mistresses, and even the king himself, were 
 frequently the subjects of his sarcasms ; and had not the 
 prince, whom he thus treated, been possessed of one of the 
 most forgiving and gentle tempers, his first disgrace had cer- 
 tainly been his last. 
 
 Just at the time that Miss Temple was desirous of seeing 
 him, in order to apologize for the uneasiness which the in- 
 famous calumnies and black aspersions of Miss Hobart had 
 occasioned both of them, he was forbid the court for the 
 third time : he departed without having seen Miss Temple, 
 carried the disgraced governess down with him to his country 
 seat, and exerted all his endeavours to cultivate in her niece 
 some dispositions which she had for the stage ; but though she 
 did not make the same improvement in this line as she had 
 by his other instructions, after he had entertained both the 
 niece and the aunt for some months in the country, he got her 
 entered in the king's company of comedians the next winter ; 
 and the public was obliged to him for the prettiest, but, at 
 the same time, the worst actress in the kingdom. 138 
 
 About this time Talbot returned from Ireland : he soon 
 felt the absence of Miss Hamilton, who was then in the 
 country with a relation, whom we shall mention hereafter. 
 A remnant of his former tenderness still subsisted in his 
 heart, notwithstanding his absence, and the promises he had 
 given the Chevalier de Grammont at parting : he now there-
 
 COUNT GI1AMMOXT. 247 
 
 fore endeavoured to banish her entirely from his thoughts. In- 
 fixing his desires upon some other object : but he saw no 
 one iu the queen's new court whom he thought worthy of 
 his attention : Miss Boynton, 139 however, 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 was 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 sufficiently, that she was willing 
 to expose the delicacy of her constitution to whatever might 
 happen, in order to become his wife ; which event perhaps 
 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 pass 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 were so much in 
 fashion ; but he found her personal accomplishments greatly 
 to exceed whatever fame had reported of them- 
 
 As it was not long befere he perceived he was in love.
 
 248 MKMOIRS OF 
 
 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 hi.s 
 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
 
 COT NT G RAM MONT. 2iO 
 
 some cautions upon this subject, she was much displeased :it 
 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 diffused 
 universal mirth and merriment wherever she came. Her 
 acquaintance with Miss 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 : Miss 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. Miss 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 :
 
 250 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 and \vent out of her presence more abruptly than became tLe 
 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, yet 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 
 li:;d betrayed his own mean low inclinations; that to gratify
 
 COUNT GUAMMOXT. 251 
 
 a depraved taste as bis, lie wanted only such silly things 
 as Stewart, Wells, and that pitiful strolling actress, 140 whom 
 he had lately introduced into their society." Floods of tears, 
 from rage, generally attended these storms ; after which, re- 
 saming 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 with 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 equally 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 Jermyn ; 
 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 Miss 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, 141 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 MKMOIKS or 
 
 for his own sake, insisted a little too strongly upon this In-t 
 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 tl e 
 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 lie 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 Jermyu 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, whose entire person, she thought.- must be a moving
 
 OOUVf GUAM .MOM'. 253 
 
 trophy, and monument of the favours and freedoms of the fair 
 sex. 
 
 Thus Jermyu arrived at the right time to satisfy her 
 curiosity by his presence ; and though his brilliancy 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 iove 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. 
 
 Jermyu 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 indifference, 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 duke, sounded 
 Jermyn's intentions towards her, and was satisfied with the 
 assurances she received from a man, whose 'probity infinitely 
 exceeded his merit in love : he therefore et all the court see 
 that he was willing to marry her, though, at the same time, 
 he did not appear particularly desirous of hastening the con- 
 summation. Every person now complimented Miss Jennings
 
 254 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 upou 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 world 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 ho 
 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 GHAMMONT. 255 
 
 fire from heaven, since such rakes as Rochester, Killegrew, 
 and Sidney were suffered there, who had the impudence 
 to assert, that all the married men in the city were 
 cuckold?, 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." 142 His 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 adventurer in which he
 
 25 (j 3IEMO1KS 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 
 ask, 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 nev,- 
 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
 
 COL'.NT CJKAMMOM 1 . 27 
 
 despise appearances, provided she was in reality virtuous. 
 3Iiss Price was all compliance, and thus having fixed upon 
 this glorious resolution, they only thought of the proper means 
 of putting it into execution. 
 
 It was very difficult for Miss Jennings to disguise herself, 
 on account of her excessive fair and bright complexion, and 
 of something particular in her air and manner; however, 
 after having well considered the matter, the best disguise they 
 could think of was to dress themselves like orange-girls. 143 
 This was no sooner resolved upon, but it was put in execu- 
 tion : they attired themselves alike, and, taking each a bas- 
 ket of oranges under their arms, they embarked in a hackney- 
 coach, and committed themselves to fortune, without any other 
 escort than their own caprice and indiscretion. 
 
 The duchess was gone to the play with her sister : Miss 
 Jennings had excused herself under pretence of indisposition : 
 she was overjoyed at the happy commencement of their ad- 
 venture ; for they had disguised themselves, had crossed the 
 park, and taken their hackney-coach at Whitehall-gate, with- 
 out the least accident. They mutually congratulated each 
 other upon it, and Miss Price taking a beginning so prosper- 
 ous as a good omen of their success, asked her companion 
 what they were to do at the fortune-teller's, and what they 
 should propose to him. 
 
 Miss Jennings told her, that, for hei part, curiosity was her 
 principal inducement for going thither; that, however, she 
 was resolved to ask him, without naming any person, why n. 
 man, who was in love with a handsome young lady, was not 
 urgent to marry her, since this was in his power to do, and 
 by so doing he would have an opportunity of gratifying his 
 desires. Miss Price told her, smiling, that without going to 
 the astrologer, nothing was more easy than to explain the 
 
 s
 
 258 MK.M01RS OF 
 
 enigma, as she herself had almost given her a solution of it, 
 in the narrative of the Duchess of Cleveland's adventures. 
 
 Having by this time nearly arrived at the play-house, Miss 
 Price, after a moment's reflection, said, that since fortune 
 favoured them, a fair opportunity was now offered to sig- 
 nalize their courage, which was to go and sell oranges in the 
 very play-house, in the sight of the duchess and the whole 
 court. The proposal being worthy of the sentiments of the 
 one, and of the vivacity of the other, they immediately 
 alighted, paid off their hack, and, running through the midst 
 of an immense number of coaches, with great difficulty they 
 reached the play-houso door. Sidney, more handsome than 
 the beautiful Adonis, and dressed more gay than usual, 
 alighted just then from his coach : Miss Price went boldly up 
 to him, as he was adjusting his curls ; but he was too much 
 occupied with his own dear self, to attend to any thing else, 
 and so passed on without deigning to give her an answer. 
 Killegrew came next, and the fair Jennings, partly encouraged 
 by the other's pertness, advanced towards him, and offered 
 him her basket, whilst Price, more used to the language, de- 
 sired him to buy her fine oranges. " Not now," said he, 
 looking at them with attention ; " but if thou wilt to-morrow 
 morning bring this young girl to my lodgings, I will make it 
 worth all the oranges in London to thee ;" and while he thus 
 spoke to the one, he chucked the other under the chin, exa- 
 mining her bosom. These familiarities making little Jennings 
 forget the part she was acting, after having pushed him away 
 with all the violence she was able, she told him with indig- 
 nation, that it was very insolent to dare " Ha ! ha !" said 
 he, " here's a rarity indeed ! a young w , who, the better to 
 sell her goods, sets up for virtue and pretends innocence !" 
 Price immediately perceived that nothing could be gained
 
 COUNT ORAMMOVT. 259 
 
 by continuing any longer in so dangerous a place ; and 
 taking her companion under the arm, she dragged her away, 
 v.-hile she was still in emotion, at the insult that had been 
 offered to her. 
 
 Miss Jennings, resolving to sell no more oranges on these 
 terms, was tempted to return, without accomplishing the 
 other adventure ; but Price having represented to her the 
 disgrace of such cowardly behaviour, more particularly after 
 having before manifested so much resolution, she consented 
 to go and pay the astrologer a short visit, so as they might 
 be enabled to regain the palace before the play was ended. 
 
 They had one of the doctor's bills for a direction, but there 
 was no occasion for it ; for the driver of the coach they had 
 taken, told them he knew very well the place they wanted, 
 for he had already carried above a hundred persons to the 
 German doctor's : they were within half a street of his 
 house, when fortune thought proper to play them a trick. 
 
 Brounker 144 had dined by chance with a merchant in that 
 part of the city, and just as he was going away, they ordered 
 their coach to stop, as ill luck would have it, just opposite 
 to him : two orange-girls in a hackney-coach, one of whom 
 appeared to have a very pretty face, immediately drew his 
 attention ; besides, he had a natural curiosity for such 
 objects. 
 
 Of all the men at court, he had the least regard for the 
 fair sex, and the least attention to their reputation : he was 
 not young, nor was his person agreeable ; however, with a 
 great deal of wit, he had a violent passion for women. He 
 did himself justice respecting his own merit ; and, being per- 
 suaded that he could only succeed with those who were de- 
 sirous of having his money, he was at open war with all 
 the rest. He had a little country-house four or five miles 
 from London always well stocked with girls : in other 
 s2
 
 260 MKMOIUS OF 
 
 respects he was a very honest man, and the best chess-player 
 in England. 
 
 Price, alarmed at being thus closely examined by the 
 most dangerous enemy they could encounter, turned her hc:i<l 
 the other way, bid her companion do the same, and told tlio 
 coachman to drive on. Brounker followed them unperceived 
 on foot ; and the coach having stopped twenty or thirty 
 yards farther up the street, they alighted. He was just 
 behind them, and formed the same judgment of them, which 
 a man much more charitable to the sex must unavoidably 
 have done, concluding that Miss Jennings was a young cour- 
 tesan upon the look-out, and that Miss Price was the mother- 
 abbess. He was, however, surprised to see them have much 
 better shoes and stockings than women of that rank gene- 
 rally wear, and that the little orange-girl, in getting out of 
 a very high coach, shewed one of the handsomest legs he 
 had ever seen; but as all this was no obstruction to his 
 designs, he resolved to purchase her at any rate, in order to 
 place her in his seraglio. 
 
 He came up to them, as they were giving their baskets in 
 guard to the coachman, with orders to wait for them exactly 
 in that place. Brounker immediately pushed in between 
 them : as soon as they saw him, they gave themselves up 
 for lost ; but he, without taking the least notice of their sur- 
 prise, took Price aside with one hand, and his purse with 
 the other, and began immediately to enter upon business, 
 but was astonished to perceive that she turned away her 
 face, without either answering or looking at him : as this 
 conduct appeared to him unnatural, he stared her full in the 
 face, notwithstanding all her endeavours to prevent him : he 
 did the same to the other ; and immediately recognized them, 
 but determined to conceal his discovery. 
 
 The old fox possessed a wonderful command of temper on
 
 COUNT OR AM MONT. 281 
 
 such occasions, and having teazed them a little longer, to 
 remove all suspicions he quitted them, telling Price ; " that 
 she was a great fool to refuse his offers, and that her girl 
 would not, perhaps, get so much in a year, as she might with 
 him in one day ; that the times were greatly changed, since 
 the queen's and the duchess's maids of honour forestalled the 
 market, and were to be had cheaper than the town ladies." 
 Upon this he went back to his coach, whilst they blessed 
 themselves, returning heaven their most hearty thanks for 
 having escaped this danger without being discovered. 
 
 Brounker, on the other hand, would not have taken a 
 thousand guineas for this rencounter; he blessed the Lord 
 that he had not alarmed them to such a degree as to frustrate 
 their intention ; for he made no doubt but Miss Price had 
 managed some intrigue for Miss Jennings : he therefore im- 
 mediately concluded, that at present it would be improper to 
 make known his discovery, which would have answered no 
 other end but to have overwhelmed them with confusion. 
 
 Upon this account, although Jermyn was one of his best 
 friends, he felt a secret joy in not having prevented his being 
 made a cuckold, before his marriage ; and the apprehension 
 lie was in of preserving him from that accident, was his sole 
 reason for quitting them with the precautions afore-men- 
 tioned. 
 
 Whilst they were under these alarms, their coachman was 
 engaged in a squabble with some blackguard boye, who had 
 gathered round his coach in order to steal the oranges : from 
 T/ords they came to blows : the two nymphs saw the com- 
 mencement of the fray as they were returning to the coach, 
 after having abandoned the design of going to the fortune- 
 teller's. Their coachman being a man of spirit, it was with 
 great difficulty they could persuade him to leave their oranges 
 to the mob, that they might get off without any farther dis-
 
 2C2 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 turbance : having thus regained their hack, after a tnousand 
 frights, and after having received an abundant share of the 
 most low and infamous abuse applied to them during the 
 fracas, they at length reached St. James's, vowing never more 
 to go after fortune-tellers, through so many dangers, terrors, 
 and alarms, as they had lately undergone. 
 
 Brounker, who from the indifferent opinion he entertained 
 of the fair sex, would have staked his life that Miss Jennings 
 did not return from this expedition in the same condition she 
 went, kept his thoughts, however, a profound secret ; since it 
 would have afforded him the highest satisfaction to have seen 
 the all-fortunate Jermyn marry a little street- walker, who pre- 
 tended to pass for a pattern of chastity, that he might the 
 day after his marriage congratulate him upon his virtuous 
 spouse ; but heaven was not disposed to afford him that 
 satisfaction, as will appear in the sequel of these memoirs. 
 
 Miss Hamilton was in the country, as we before mentioned, 
 at a relation's : the Chevalier de Grammont bore this short 
 absence of hers with great uneasiness, since she would not 
 allow him permission to visit her there, upon any pretence 
 whatever ; but play, which was favourable to him, was no 
 small relief to his extreme impatience. 
 
 Miss Hamilton, however, at last returned. Mrs. "Weten- 
 hall 145 (for that was the name of her relation) would by all 
 means wait upon her to London, in appearance out of polite- 
 ness ; for ceremony, carried beyond all bearing, is the grand 
 characteristic of country gentry : yet this mark of civility 
 v.-as only a pretence, to obtain a peevish husband's consent to 
 his wife's journey to town. Perhaps he would have done 
 himself the honour of conducting Miss Hamilton up to Lon- 
 don, had he not been employed in writing some remarks upon 
 the ecclesiastical history, a work in which he had long been 
 engaged : the ladies were more civil than to interrupt him in
 
 COUNT GKAMMONT. 263 
 
 his undertaking, and besides it would entirely have discon- 
 certed all Mrs. Wetenhall's schemes. 
 
 This lady was what may be properly called a beauty, en- 
 tirely English, made up of lilies and roses, of suow and milk, 
 as to colour ; and of wax, with respect to the arms, hands, 
 neck, and feet; but all this without either animation or air: 
 her face was uncommonly pretty ; but there was no variety, 
 no change of countenance in it : one would have thought, she 
 took it in the morning out of a case, in order to put it up 
 again at night, without using it in the smallest degree in the 
 daytime. What can I say of her ! nature had formed her 
 a baby from her infancy, and a baby remained till death the 
 fair Mrs. Wetenhall. Her husband had been destined for the 
 church ; but his elder brother dying just at the time he had 
 gone through his studies of divinity, instead of taking orders, 
 he came to England, and took to wife Miss Bedingfield, the 
 lady of whom we are now speaking. 
 
 His person was not disagreeable, but he had a serious con- 
 templative air, very apt to occasion disgust : as for the rest, 
 she might boast of having one of the greatest theologists in 
 the kingdom for her husband : he was all day poring over 
 his books, and went to bed soon, in order to rise early ; so that 
 his wife found him snoring when she came to bed, and when 
 he arose he left her there sound asleep : his conversation at 
 table would have been very brisk, if Mrs."Wetenhall had been 
 as great a proficient in divinity, or as great a lover of contro- 
 versy as he was; but being neither learned in the former, 
 nor desirous of the latter, silence reigned at their table, as ab- 
 solutely as at a refectory. 
 
 She had often expressed a great desire to see London ; but 
 though they were only distant a very short day's journey 
 from it, she had never been able to satisfy her curiosity : it 
 was not therefore without reason, that she grew weary of the
 
 2G4 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 life she was forced to lead at Peckham. !4G The melancholy 
 retired situation of the place was to her insupportable ; and 
 as she had the folly, incident to many other women, of believ- 
 ing sterility to be a kind of reproach, she was very much hurt 
 to see that she might fall under that suspicion ; for she was 
 persuaded, that although heaven had denied her children, she 
 nevertheless had all the necessary requisites on her part, if it 
 had been the will of the Lord. This had occasioned her 
 to make some reflections, and then to reason upon those 
 reflections; as for instance, that since her husband chose 
 rather to devote himself to his studies, than to the duties of 
 matrimony, to turn over musty old books, rather than attend 
 to the attractions of beauty, and to gratify his own pleasures, 
 rather than those of his wife, it might be permitted her to 
 relieve some necessitous lover, in neighbourly charity, pro- 
 vided she could do it conscientiously, and to direct her incli- 
 nations in so just a manner, that the evil spirit should have no 
 concern in it. Mr. "Wetenliall, a zealous partisan for the doc- 
 trine of the casuists, would not perhaps have approved of these 
 decisions ; but he was not consulted. 
 
 The greatest misfortune was, that neither solitary Peck- 
 ham, nor its sterile neighbourhood, presented any expedients, 
 either for the execution of the afore-mentioned design, or for 
 the relief of poor Mrs. Wetenhall : she was visibly pining 
 away, when through fear of dying either with solitude or of 
 want, she had recourse to Miss Hamilton's commiseratiou. 
 
 Their first acquaintance was formed at Paris, whither Mr. 
 "Wetenhall had taken his wife half a year after they were 
 married, on a journey thither to buy books. Miss Hamilton, 
 who from that very time greatly pitied her, consented to pass 
 some time in the country with her, in hopes by that visit to 
 deliver her, for a short time at least, out of her captivity ; 
 which project succeeded according to her wish.
 
 COTNT GRAM.VONT. 263 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont, being informed of the day on 
 which they were to arrive, borne on the wings of love and im- 
 patience, had engaged George Hamilton to go with him, and 
 meet them some miles out of London. The equipage he had 
 prepared for the purpose corresponded with his usual magni- 
 ficence ; and on such an occasion, we may reasonably suppose 
 he had not neglected his person : however, with all his impa- 
 tience, he checked the ardour of the coachman, through fear 
 of accidents ; rightly judging that upon a road prudence is 
 preferable to eagerness. The ladies at length appeared, and 
 Miss Hamilton, being in his eyes ten or twelve times more 
 handsome than before her departure from London, be would 
 have purchased with his life so kind a reception as she gave 
 her brother. 
 
 Mrs. Wetenhall had her share of the praises, which at this 
 interview were liberally bestowed upon her beauty, for which 
 her beauty was very thankful to those who did it so much 
 honour ; and as Hamilton regarded her with a tender atten- 
 tion, she regarded Hamilton as a man very well qualified for 
 putting in execution the little projects she had concerted with 
 her conscience. 
 
 As soon as she was in London, her head was almost turned, 
 through an excess of contentment and felicity : every thing 
 appeared like enchantment to her in this superb city ; more 
 particularly, as in Paris she had never seen any thing farther 
 than the Rue Saint Jaques, and a few booksellers' shops : M iss 
 Hamilton entertained her at her own house, and she was pre- 
 sented, admired, and well received at both courts. 
 
 The Chevalier de Grammont, whose gallantry and magni- 
 ficence were inexhaustible, taking occasion, from this fair 
 stranger's arrival, to exhibit his grandeur, nothing was to be 
 seen but balls, concerts, plays, excursions by land and by wa- 
 ter, splendid collations and sumptuous entertainments. Mrs.
 
 266 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 was transported with pleasures, of which the great- 
 est part were entirely new to her ; she was greatly delighted 
 with all, except now and then at a play, when tragedy was 
 acted, which she confessed she thought rather wearisome : she 
 agreed, however, that the show was very interesting, when 
 there were many people killed upon the stage, but thought the 
 players were very fine handsome fellows, who were much 
 better alive than dead. 
 
 Hamilton, upon the whole, was pretty well treated by her, 
 if a man in love, who is never satisfied until the completion 
 of his wishes, could confine himself within the bounds of 
 moderation and reason : he used all his endeavours to deter- 
 mine her to put in execution the projects she had formed at 
 Peckham : Mrs. TVetenhall, on the other hand, was much 
 pleased with him. This is the Hamilton 147 who served in the 
 French army with distinction : he was both agreeable and 
 handsome. All imaginable opportunities conspired to favour 
 the establishment of an intimacy, whose commencement had 
 been so brisk, that in all probability it would not languish for 
 a conclusion ; but the more he pressed her to it, the more her 
 resolution began to fail, and regard for some scruples, which 
 she had not well weighed, kept her in suspense : there was 
 reason to believe that a little perseverance would have removed 
 these obstacles ; yet this at the present time was not attempted. 
 Hamilton, not able to conceive what could prevent her from 
 completing his happiness, since in his opinion the first and 
 greatest difficulties of an amour were already overcome, with 
 respect to the public, resolved to abandon her to her irresolu- 
 tions, instead of endeavouring to conquer them by a more 
 vigorous attack. It was not consistent with reason, to desist 
 from an enterprise, where so many prospects of success pre- 
 sented themselves, for such inconsiderable obstacles ; but he 
 suffered himself to be intoxicated with chimeras and visions,
 
 COUNT GRAMAIOST. 2G7 
 
 which unseasonably cooled the vigour of his pursuit, and led 
 him astray in another unprofitable undertaking. 
 
 I know not whether poor TVetenhall took the blame upon 
 herself; but it is certain, she was extremely mortified upon 
 it. Soon after, being obliged to return to her cabbages and 
 turkeys at Peckham, she had almost gone distracted : that 
 residence appeared a thousand times more dreadful to her, 
 since she had been initiated into the amusements of London ; 
 but as the queen was to set out within a month for Tunbridge 
 Wells, she was obliged to yield to necessity, and return to the 
 philosopher, TVetenhall, with the consolation of having en- 
 gaged Miss Hamilton to come and live at her house, which 
 was within ten or twelve miles of Tunbridge, as long as the 
 court remained there. 
 
 Miss Hamilton promised not to abandon her in her retire- 
 ment, and farther engaged to bring the Chevalier de Gram- 
 mont along with her, whose humour and conversation extremely 
 delighted her ; and the Chevalier de Grammont, who on all 
 occasions started agreeable raillery, engaged on his part to 
 bring George Hamilton, which words overwhelmed her with 
 blushes. 
 
 The court set out soon aftei to pass about two months in 
 the place, 143 of all Europe the most rural and simple, and yet, 
 at the same time, the most entertaining and agreeable. 
 
 Tunbridge is the same distance from London, that Fon- 
 tainebleau is from Paris, and is, at the season, the general 
 rendezvous of all the gay and handsome of both sexes. The 
 company, though always numerous, is always select : since 
 those who repair thither for diversion, ever exceed the num- 
 ber of those who go thither for health, every thing there 
 breathes mirth and pleasure : constraint is banished, familiarity 
 is established upon the first acquaintance, and joy and plea- 
 sure are the sole sovereigns of the place.
 
 26'S MEMOIRS OF 
 
 The company are accommodated with lodgings, in little, 
 clean, and convenient habitations, that lie straggling and 
 separated from each other, a mile and a half all around the 
 Wells, where the company meet in the morning : this place 
 consists of a long walk, shaded by spreading trees, under which 
 they walk while they are drinking the waters : on one side 
 of this walk is a long row of shops, plentifully stocked with 
 all manner of toys, lace, gloves, stockings, and where there 
 is raffling, as at Paris, in the Foire de Saint Germain : on the 
 other side of the walk is the market : and, as it is the 
 custom here for every person to buy their own provisions, 
 care is taken that nothing offensive appears on the stalls. 
 Here young, fair, fresh-coloured country girls, with clean 
 linen, small straw hats, and neat shoes and stockings, sell 
 game, vegetables, flowers, and fruit : here one may live as 
 well as one pleases : here is, likewise, deep play, and no 
 want of amorous intrigues. As soon as the evening comes, 
 every one quits his little palace to assemble on the bowling- 
 green, where, in the open air, those who choose dance upon 
 a turf more soft and smooth than the finest carpet in the 
 world. 
 
 Lord Muskerry 149 had, within two or three short miles of 
 Tunbridge, a very handsome seat called Summer-hill : 15t) Miss 
 Hamilton, after having spent eight or ten days at Peckham, 
 could not excuse herself from passing the remainder of the 
 season at his house ; and, having obtained leave of Mr. 
 Wetenhall, that his lady should accompany her, they left 
 the melancholy residence of Peckham, and its tiresome 
 master, and fixed their little court at Summer-hill. 
 
 They went every day to court, or the court came to 
 them. The queen even surpassed her usual attentions in 
 inventing and supporting entertainments : she endeavoured 
 to increase the natural case and freedom of Tunbridge, by
 
 COUNT GRAMMO.Vr. 26J> 
 
 dispensing with, rather than requiring, those ceremonies that 
 were due to her presence ; and, confining in the bottom of 
 her heart that grief and uneasiness she could not overcome, 
 she saw Miss Stewart triumphantly possess the affections of 
 the king without manifesting the least uneasiness. 
 
 Never did love see his empire in a more flourishing con- 
 dition than on this spot : those who were smitten before they 
 came to it, felt a mighty augmentation of their flame ; and 
 those who seemed the least susceptible of love, laid aside 
 their natural ferocity, to act in a new character. For the 
 truth of the latter, we shall only relate the change which 
 soon appeared in the conduct of Prince Rupert. 151 
 
 He was brave and courageous, even to rashness ; but cross- 
 drained and incorrigibly obstinate : his genius was fertile in 
 mathematical experiments, and he possessed some knowledge 
 of chemistry : he was polite even to excess, unseasonably ; 
 but haughty, and even brutal, when he ought to have been 
 gentle and courteous : he was tall, and his manners were un- 
 gracious : he had a dry hard-favoured \ isage, and a stern 
 look, even when he wished to please ; but, when he was out 
 of humour, he was the true picture of reproof. 
 
 The queen had sent for the players, either that there 
 might be no intermission in the diversions of the place, or, 
 perhaps, to retort upon Miss Stewart, by the presence of Nell 
 Gwyn, part of the uneasiness she felt from hers : Prince 
 Rupert found charms in the person of another player, called 
 Hughes, 152 who brought down, and greatly subdued his 
 natural fierceness. From this time, adieu alembics, crucibles, 
 furnaces, and all the black furniture of the forges : a com- 
 plete farewell to all mathematical instruments and chemical 
 speculations : sweet powder and essences were now the only 
 ingredients that occupied any share of his attention. The 
 impertinent gipsy chose to be attacked in form ; and proudly
 
 270 MEMOIRS or 
 
 refusing money, that, in the end, she might sell her favours 
 at a dearer rate, she caused the poor prince to act a part so 
 unnatural, that he no longer appeared like the same person. 
 The king was greatly pleased with this event, for which 
 great rejoicings were made at Tunbridge ; but nobody was 
 bold enough to make it the subject of satire, though, the same 
 constraint was not observed with other ridiculous personages. 
 There was dancing every day at the queen's apartments, 
 because the physicians recommended it, and no person thought 
 it amiss ; for even those who cared least for it, chose that exer- 
 cise to digest the waters rather than walking. Lord Muskerry 
 thought himself secure against his lady's rage for dancing; 
 for, although he was ashamed of it, the princess of Babylon 
 was, by the grace of God, six or seven months advanced in 
 pregnancy ; and, to complete her misfortune, the child had 
 fallen all on one side, so that even Euclid would have been 
 puzzled to say what her figure was. The disconsolate lady 
 seeing Miss Hamilton and Mrs. Wetenhall set out every 
 morning, sometimes on horseback, and sometimes in a coach, 
 but ever attended by a gallant troop to conduct them to 
 court, and to convey them back, she fancied a thousand times 
 more delights at Tunbridge than in reality there were, and 
 she did not cease, in her imagination, to dance over at 
 Summer-hill all the country dances which she thought had 
 been danced at Tunbridge. She could no longer support the 
 racking torments which disturbed her mind, when relenting 
 heaven, out of pity to her pains and sufferings, caused Lord 
 Muskerry to repair to London, and kept him there two whole 
 days : as soon as ever he had turned his back, the Babylonian 
 princess declared her resolution to make a trip to court. 
 
 She had a domestic chaplain who did not want sense, and 
 Lord Muskerry, for fear of accidents, had recommended her 
 to the wholesome counsels and good prayers of this prudent
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 2?1 
 
 divine ; but in rain were all his preachings and exhortations 
 to stay at home ; in vain did he set before her eyes her hus- 
 band's commands, and the dangers to which she would expose 
 herself in her present condition ; he likewise added, that her 
 pregnancy being a particular blessing from heaven, she ought 
 therefore to be so much the more careful for its preservation, 
 since it cost her husband, perhaps, more trouble than she was 
 aware of, to obtain it. These remonstrances were altogether 
 ineffectual : Miss Hamilton, and her cousin "Wetenhall, 
 having the complaisance to confirm her in her resolution, 
 they assisted in dressing her the next morning, and set out 
 along with her : all their skill and dexterity were requi- 
 site to reduce her shape into some kind of symmetry ; but, 
 having at last pinned a small cushion under her petticoat on 
 the right side, to counteract the untoward appearance the 
 little infant occasioned, by throwing itself on the left, they 
 almost split their sides with laughter, assuring her at the 
 same time that she looked perfectly charming. 
 
 As soon as she appeared, it was generally believed that 
 she had dressed herself in a farthingale, in order to make hei 
 court to the queen ; but every person was pleased at her 
 arrival : those who were unacquainted with the circumstances, 
 assured her in earnest that she was pregnant with twins ; and 
 the queen, who envied her condition, notwithstanding the 
 ridiculous appearance she then made, being made acquainted 
 with the molt re of her journey, was determined to gratify 
 her inclinations. 
 
 As soon as the hour for country-dances arrived, her cousin 
 Hamilton was appointed her partner : she made some faint 
 excuses at first, on account of the inconvenient situation she 
 was then in ; but soon suffered them to be overcome, in order, 
 as she said, to shew her duty to the queen ; and never did a 
 woman in this world enjoy such complete satisfaction.
 
 2 / 2 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 We have already observed, that the greatest prosperity is 
 liable to the greatest change : Lady Muskerry, trussed up as 
 she was, seemed to feel no manner of uneasiness from the 
 motion in dancing ; on the contrary, being only apprehensive 
 of the presence of her husband, which would have destroyed 
 all her happiness, she danced with uncommon briskness, lest 
 her ill stars should bring him back before she had fully satis- 
 fied herself with it. In the midst, therefore, of her capering 
 in this indiscreet manner, her cushion came loose without her 
 perceiving it, and fell to the ground, in the very middle or 
 the first round. The Duke of Buckingham, who watched 
 her, took it up instantly, wrapped it up in his coat, and, 
 mimicking the cries of a new-born infant, he went about 
 inquiring for a nurse for the young Muskerry among the 
 maids of honour. 
 
 This buffoonery, joined to the strange figure of the poor 
 lady, had almost thrown Miss Stewart into hysterics; for 
 the princess of Babylon, after this accident, was quite flat on 
 one side, and immoderately protuberant on the other. All those, 
 who had before suppressed their inclinations to laugh, now 
 gave themselves free scope, when they saw that Miss Stewart 
 was ready to split her sides. The poor lady was greatly dis- 
 concerted : every person was officious to console her ; but 
 the queen, who inwardly laughed more heartily than any, 
 pretended to disapprove of their taking such liberties. 
 
 Whilst Miss Hamilton and Mrs. Wetenhall endeavoured to 
 refit Lady Muskerry in another room, the Duke of Bucking- 
 ham told the king, that, if the physicians would permit a 
 little exercise immediately after a delivery, the best way to 
 recover Lady Muskerry was to renew the dance as soon as 
 ever her infant was replaced : this advice was approved, and 
 accordingly put in execution. The queen proposed, as soon 
 as she appeared, a second round of country-dances ; and Lady
 
 COUNT GUAMMONT. 273 
 
 ]\Ii;skerry accepting the offer, the remedy had its desired 
 effect, and entirely removed every remembrance of her late 
 mishap. 
 
 "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. 152 The 
 duchess, since her elevation, had conducted herself with such 
 prudence and circumspection, 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 the 
 end, subdue both reason and virtue itself. 
 
 T
 
 274 MKMOIRS 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 boue, 
 named Churchill, 1M 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 great 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 jea- 
 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 wa.s 
 wounded before she was aware of her danger; but the arood
 
 COUNT GttAMMONT. 275 
 
 opinion Sidney had of his own merit did not suffer him long 
 to be ignorant of such a glorious conquest ; and, ill order 
 more effectually to secure it, his eyes rashly answered every 
 thing which those of her royal highness had the kindness to 
 tell him, whilst his 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 Hobart, 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 
 Hobart 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 proper 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
 
 2?C MKMO11IS OF 
 
 what she meant by "endeavouring to alleviate his pain in 
 .some Avay 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 inconveniences? 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 1 
 
 r.ow 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 reiir-
 
 COU.M GIIAMMONT. 2?? 
 
 nation, to bear 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 1 
 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 Hobart, to 
 overthrow her discretion and prudence. 
 
 This intrigue began at the very time that Miss 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 so 
 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 duche.ss, 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 OP 
 
 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- 
 pearing 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 GUAM MO. NT. 279 
 
 least weakness, or the smallest return of affection, for an 
 ungrateful mistress, who had 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 being 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 lier 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 thought it right to begin the recital of his sufferings and 
 fidelity, when Miss Temple, with a paper 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 31iss 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 this 
 allusion, read it over two or three times, thought it more en-
 
 280 MEIO;K.S OF 
 
 tertainiug 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 conduct 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 164 having, very a-propos, got himself killed where he 
 Iiad 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 
 
 lie bad found means to promote these two gentlemen at once, 
 without being at the least expense. 
 
 Miss Hobart 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 willingly 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 England was infatuated with such a frightful 
 creature. 
 
 The duchess confessed that taste was very arbitrary ; the 
 truth whereof he himself seemed to be convinced of, since he 
 had fixed upon the beauteous Helen for his mistress. I know 
 not whether this raillery caused him to reflect for what reasons 
 he had made his choice ; but it is certain he began to cool in 
 his affections for Miss Churchill ; and perhaps he would 
 entirely have abandoned this pursuit, had not an accident 
 taken place, which raised in him an entirely new inclination 
 for her. 
 
 The court having halted for a few days in a fine open 
 country, the duchess was desirous of seeing a greyhound 
 course. This diversion is practised in England upon large 
 downs, where the turf, eaten by the sheep, is particularly 
 green, and wonderfully even. She was in her coach, and all 
 the ladies on horseback, every one of them being attended by 
 her squire ; it therefore was but reasonable that the mistress 
 should likewise have her squire. He accordingly was at the 
 side of her coach, and seemed to compensate for his defi- 
 ciencies in conversation, by the uncommon beauty of his 
 mien and figure. 
 
 The duke attended Miss Churchill, not for the sake of 
 besieging her with soft flattering tales of love, but, on the
 
 282 .MEMOIRS OF 
 
 contrary, to chide her for sitting so ill on horseback. She 
 was one of the most indolent creatures in the world ; and 
 although the maids of honour are generally the worst mounted 
 of the whole court, yet, in order to distinguish her, on account 
 of the favour she enjoyed, they had given her a very pretty, 
 though rather a high-spirited, horse ; a distinction she would 
 very willingly have excused them. 
 
 The embarrassment and fear she was under had added to 
 her natural paleness. In this situation, her countenance had 
 almost completed the duke's disgust, when her horse, desirous 
 of keeping pace with the others, set off in a gallop, notwith- 
 standing her greatest efforts to prevent it ; and her endeavours 
 to hold him in, firing his mettle, he at length set off at full 
 speed, as if he was running a race against the duke's horse. 
 
 Miss Churchill lost her seat, screamed out, and fell from 
 her horse. A fall in so quick a pace must have been violent; 
 and yet it proved favourable to her in every respect ; for, 
 without receiving any hurt, she gave the lie to all the unfa- 
 vourable suppositions that had been formed of her person, in 
 iudging from her face. The duke alighted, in order to help 
 her. She was so greatly stunned, that her thoughts were 
 otherwise employed than about decency on the present occa- 
 sion ; and those who first crowded around her found her rather 
 in a negligent posture. They could hardly believe that limbs 
 of such exquisite beauty could belong to Miss Churchill's face. 
 After this accident, it was remarked that the duke's tender- 
 ness and affection for her increased every day ; and, towards 
 the end of the winter, it appeared that she had not tyrannized 
 over his passion, nor made him languish with impatience. 
 
 The two courts returned to London much about the same 
 time, equally satisfied with their respective excursions ; though 
 the queen was disappointed in the hopes she had entertained 
 of t?io good effects of the Tunbridge waters.
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 2S3 
 
 It was about this time that the Chevalier de (Jrrumnont 
 received a letter from the Marchioness de Saint Chaumont, 
 his sister, acquainting him that he might return when he 
 thought proper, the king having given him leave. He would 
 have received this news with joy at any other time, whatever 
 been the charms of the English court ; but, in the present 
 situation of his heart, he could not resolve to quit it 
 
 He had returned from Tunbridge a thousand times deeper 
 in love than ever ; for, during this agreeable excursion, he had 
 every day seen Miss Hamilton, either in the marshes of me- 
 lancholy Peckham, or in the delicious walks of cheerful Sum- 
 merhill, or in the daily diversions and entertainments of the 
 queen's court ; and whether he saw her on horseback, heard 
 her conversation, or observed her in the dance, still he was 
 persuaded that Heaven had never formed an object in every 
 respect more worthy of the love, and more deserving of the 
 affection, of a man of sense and delicacy. How then was it 
 possible for him to bear the thoughts of leaving her ? This 
 appeared to him absolutely impracticable ; however, as he was 
 desirous of making a merit with her, of the determination he 
 had made to neglect his fortune, rather than to be separated 
 from her charms, he shewed her his sister's letter; but this 
 confidence had not the success he expected. 
 
 Miss Hamilton, in the first place, congratulated him upon 
 his recall : she returned him many thanks for the sacrifice he 
 intended to make her; but as this testimony of affection 
 greatly exceeded the bounds of mere gallantry, however sen- 
 sibly she might feel this mark of his tenderness, she was how- 
 ever determined not to abuse it. In vain did he protest that 
 he would rather meet death, than part from her irresistible 
 charms ; and her irresistible charms protested that he should 
 never see them more, unless he departed immediately. Thus 
 was he forced to obey. However, he was allowed to flatter
 
 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 himself, that these positive orders, how harsh soever they 
 might appear, did not flow from indifference ; that she would 
 always be more pleased with his return than with his depar- 
 ture, for which she was now so urgent ; and having generously 
 given him assurances that, so far as depended upon herself, he 
 would find, upon his return, no variation in her sentiments 
 during his absence, he took leave of his friends, thinking 01 
 nothing but his return, at the very time he was making pre- 
 panitions for his departure.
 
 COUNT GHAMMONT. 235 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE nearer the Chevalier de Grammont approached the 
 court of France, the more did he regret his absence from that 
 of England; not but that he expected a gracious reception 
 at the feet of his master, whose anger no one provoked with 
 impunity; but who likewise knew how to pardon, in such a 
 manner as to make the favour he conferred in every respect 
 to be felt. 
 
 A thousand different thoughts occupied his mind upon the 
 journey : sometimes he reflected upon the joy and satisfac- 
 tion, his friends and relations would experience upon his 
 return ; sometimes upon the congratulations and embraces of 
 those, who, being neither the one nor the other, would never- 
 theless overwhelm him with impertinent compliments : all 
 these ideas passed quickly through his head; for a man 
 deeply in love makes it a scruple of conscience not to suffer 
 any other thoughts to dwell upon his mind than those of the 
 object beloved. It was then the tender, endearing remem- 
 brance of what he had left in London that diverted his 
 thoughts from Paris ; and it was the torments of absence 
 that prevented his feeling those of the bad roads and the 
 Lad horses. His heart protested to Miss Hamilton, between 
 Montreuil and Abbeville, that he only tore himself from her 
 Avith such haste, to return the sooner; after which, by a 
 short reflection, comparing the regret he had formerly felt 
 upon the same road, in quitting France for England, with 
 that which he now experienced, in quitting England for
 
 286 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 France, he found the last much more insupportable than the 
 former. 
 
 It is thus that a man in love entertains himself upon the 
 road ; or rather, it is thus that a trifling writer abuses the 
 patience of his reader, either to display his own sentiments, 
 or to lengthen out a tedious story ; but God forbid that this 
 character should apply to ourselves, since we profess to insert 
 nothing in these memoirs but what we have heard from tko 
 mouth of him whose actions and sayings we transmit to 
 posterity. 
 
 Who, except Squire Feraulas, has ever been able to keep 
 a register of all the thoughts, sighs, and exclamations of his 
 illustrious master ? For my own part, I should never have 
 thought that the attention of the Count de Grammont, which 
 is at present so sensible to inconveniences and dangers, 
 would have ever permitted him to entertain amorous thoughts 
 upon the road, if he did not himself dictate to me what I am 
 now writing. 
 
 But let us speak of him at Abbeville. The postmaster 
 was his old acquaintance : his hotel was the best provided 
 of any between Calais and Paris; and the Chevalier de 
 Grammont, alighting, told Termes he would drink a glass 
 of wine during the time they were changing horses. It was 
 about noon ; and, since the preceding night, when they had 
 landed at Calais, until this instant, they had not eaten a single 
 mouthful. Termes, praising the Lord, that natural feelings 
 had for once prevailed over the inhumanity of his usual 
 impatience, confirmed him as much as possible in such rea- 
 sonable sentiments. 
 
 Upon their entering the kitchen, where the Chevalier 
 generally paid his first visit, they were surprised to see half 
 a dozen spits loaded with game- at the fire, and every other 
 preparation for a magnificent entertainment. The heart of
 
 COL' NT GHAMMONT. 287 
 
 Termes leaped for joy : be gave private orders to the hostler 
 to pull the shoes off some of the horses, that he might not be 
 forced away from this place before he had satisfied his crav- 
 ing appetite. 
 
 Soon after, a number of violins and hautboys, attended 
 by all the mob of the town, entered the court. The landlord 
 being asked the reason of these great preparations, acquainted 
 the Chevalier de Grammont that they were for the wedding 
 of one of the most wealthy gentlemen in the neighbourhood, 
 with one of the handsomest girls in the whole province ; that 
 the entertainment was to be at his house ; and that, if his 
 lordship chose to stop, in a very short time he would see the 
 new-married couple arrive from the church, since the music 
 was already come. He was right iu his conjectures; for 
 these words were scarce out of his mouth, when three un- 
 commonly large coaches, loaded with lackeys, as tall as 
 Swiss, with most gaudy liveries, all covered with lace, ap- 
 peared in the court, and disembarked the whole wedding 
 company. Never was country magnificence more naturally 
 displayed : rusty tinsel, tarnished lace, striped silks, little 
 eyes, and full swelling breasts, appeared on every side. 
 
 If the first sight of the procession surprised the Chevalier 
 de Grammont, faithful Termes was no less astonished at the 
 second. The little that was to be seen of the bride's face 
 appeared not without beauty; but no judgment could be 
 formed of the remainder : four dozen of patches, at least, and 
 ten ringlets of hair, on each side, most completely concealed 
 her from all human eyes ; but it was the bridegroom who most 
 particularly attracted the Chevalier de Grammont's attention, 
 He was as ridiculously dressed as the rest of the company, 
 except a coat of the greatest magnificence, and of the most 
 exquisite taste. The Chevalier de Grammont, walking up to 
 him to examine his dress, began to commend the embroidery
 
 26b MEMOiliS 01-' 
 
 of his coat. The bridegroom thought himself much honoured 
 by this examination, and told him he bought it for one hun- 
 dred and fifty louis, at the time he was paying his addresses 
 to his wife. " Then you did not get it made here ? " said the 
 Chevalier de Grammont. " Xo," replied the other; " I bought 
 it of a London merchant, who had ordered it for an English 
 lord." The Chevalier de Grammont, who now began to per- 
 ceive in what manner the adventure would end, asked him if 
 he should recollect the merchant if he saw him again ? " Re- 
 collect him !" replied the other, " I surely ought ; for I was 
 obliged to sit up drinking with him all night at Calais, as I 
 was endeavouring to beat down the price." Termes had 
 vanished out of eight as soon as ever this coat appeared, 
 though he little supposed that the cursed bridegroom would 
 have any conversation concerning it with his master. 
 
 The Chevalier's thoughts were some time wavering between 
 his inclination to laugh, and a desire of hanging Master 
 Termers ; but the long habit of suffering himself to be robbed 
 by his domestics, together with the vigilance of the criminal, 
 whom his master could not reproach with having slept in his 
 service, inclined him to clemency ; and yielding to the impor- 
 tunities of the country gentleman, in order to confound his 
 faithful servant, he sat down to table, to make the thirty- 
 seventh of the company. 
 
 A short time after, he desired one of the waiters to call for 
 a gentleman whose name was Termes. He immediately ap- 
 peared ; and as soon as the master of the feast saw him, he 
 rose from table, and offering him his hand, " Welcome, my 
 friend," said he ; " you see that I have taken good care of the 
 coat which you sold me with so much reluctance, and that I 
 have kept it for a good purpose." 
 
 Termes, having put on a face of brass, pretended not to know 
 him. and pushed him back with some degree of rudeness.
 
 COUNT GRA.MMONT. - . 2S9 
 
 " No, no," said the other, "since I was obliged to sit up \yit!i 
 you the whole night, in order to strike the bargain, you shall 
 pledge me in the bride's health." The Chevalier de Grani- 
 mont, who saw that Termes was disconcerted, notwith- 
 standing his impudence, said to him with a smile, " Come, 
 come, my good London merchant, sit down, as you are s > 
 civilly invited : we are not so crowded at table but that then- 
 will be room enough for such an honest gentleman as your- 
 self." At these words five-and-thirty of the guests were in 
 motion to receive this new visitor. The bride alone, out of an 
 idea of decorum, remained seated ; and the audacious Termes, 
 having swallowed the first shame of this adventure, began to 
 lay about him at such a rate, as if it had been his intention to 
 swallow all the wine provided for the wedding, if his master 
 had not risen from the table as they were taking off four- 
 and-twenty soups, to serve up as many other dishes in their 
 stead. 
 
 The company were not so unreasonable as to desire a man 
 who was in such haste to remain to the end of a wedding- 
 dinner ; but they all got up when he arose from table, and all 
 that he could obtain from the bridegroom was, that the com- 
 pany should not attend him to the gate of the inn : as for 
 Termes, he wished they had not quitted him till the end of 
 their journey, so much did he dread being left alone with his 
 master. 
 
 They had advanced some distance from Abbeville, and were 
 proceeding on in the most profound silence, when Termes, 
 who expected an end to it in a short time, was only solicitous 
 in what manner it might happen, whether his master would 
 attack him with a torrent of invectives, and certain epithets 
 whicli were most justly his due, or whether, in an insulting 
 ironical manner, he might make use of such commendations 
 a'j were most likely to confound him ; but finding, instead of 
 
 v
 
 290 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 either, that he remained in sullen silence, he thought it pru- 
 dent rather to prevent the speech the Chevalier was medi- 
 tating, than to suffer him to think longer about it ; and, accord- 
 ingly, arming himself with all his effrontery, " You seem to 
 be very angry, Sir," said he, " and I suppose you think you 
 have reason for being so ; but the devil take me, if you are 
 not mistaken in reality." 
 
 " How ! traitor ! in reality ?" said the Chevalier de Gram- 
 mont : " it is then because I have not had thee well threshed, 
 as thou hast for a long time merited." " Look ye, Sir," replied 
 Termes, " you always run into a passion, instead of listening 
 to reason ! Yes, Sir, I maintain that what I did was for your 
 benefit." "And was not the quicksand likewise for my ser- 
 vice?" said the Chevalier de Grammout. " Have patience, 
 if you please," pursued the other : " I know not how that sim- 
 pleton of a bridegroom happened to be at the custom-house 
 when my portmanteau was examined at Calais ; but these silly 
 cuckolds thrust in their noses everywhere. As soon as ever 
 he saw your coat, he fell in love with it. I immediately per- 
 ceived he was a fool ; for he fell down upon his knees, beseech- 
 ing me to sell it him. Besides being greatly rumpled in the 
 portmanteau, it was all stained in front by the ssveat of the 
 horses ; I wonder how the devil he has managed to get it 
 cleaned ; but, faith, I am the greatest scoundrel in the world, 
 if you would ever have put it on. In a word, it cost you one 
 hundred and forty louis d'ors, and seeing he offered me one 
 hundred and fifty for it ; ' My master,' said I, ' has no occasion 
 for this tinseled bauble to distinguish him at the ball ; and, 
 although he was pretty full of cash when I left him, how know 
 I in what situation he may be upon my return ? there is no 
 certainty at play.' To be brief, Sir, I got ten louis d'ors for 
 it more than it cost you : this you see is all clear profit : I 
 will be accountable to you for it, and you know that I am
 
 COUNT GRAMMONT. 291 
 
 sufficiently substantial to make good such a sum. Confess 
 now, do you think you would have appeared to greater ad- 
 vantage at the ball, if you had been dressed out in that damned 
 coat, which would have made you look just like the village 
 bridegroom to whom we sold it ? and yet, how you stormed 
 at London when you thought it lost ; what fine stories you 
 told the king about the quicksand ; and how churlish you 
 looked, when you first began to suppose that this country 
 looby wore it at his wedding !" 
 
 "What could the Chevalier reply to such uncommon impu- 
 dence ? If he indulged his resentment, he must either have 
 most severely bastinadoed him, or he must have discarded him, 
 as the easiest escape the rogue could expect ; but he had occa- 
 sion for him during the remainder of his journey ; and, as soon 
 as he was at Paris, he had occasion for him for his return. 
 
 The Marechal de Grammont had no sooner notice of his 
 arrival, than he went to him at the hotel ; and, the first em- 
 braces being over on both sides; " Chevalier," said the Mare"- 
 chal, " how many days have you been in coming from London 
 hither ? for God knows at what a rate you travel on such occa- 
 sions." The Chevalier told him, he had been three days upon 
 the road ; and, to excuse himself for making no more haste, 
 he related to him his Abbeville adventure. " It is a very 
 entertaining one," said his brother ; ' but, what is yet more 
 entertaining, is, that it will be your fault if you do not find 
 your coat still at table ; for the country gentry are not accus- 
 tomed to rise very soon from a wedding dinner." And then, 
 in a very serious tone, told him, " he knew not who had ad- 
 vised him to this unexpected return, which might probably 
 ruin all his affairs; but he had orders from the king to bid 
 him go back again without appearing at court. He told him 
 afterwards that he was very much astonished at his impatience, 
 
 u 2
 
 292 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 as, till tins time, lie had conducted himself uncommonly well, 
 and was sufficiently acquainted with the king's temper to know, 
 that the only way to merit his pardon was to wait until it 
 freely came from his clemency." 
 
 The Chevalier, in justification of his conduct, produced 
 Madame de Saint Chaumont's letter, and told the MarechnJ 
 that he would very willingly have spared her the trouble of 
 writing him such kind of news, to occasion him so useless a jour- 
 ney. " Still more indiscretion," replied his brother ; " for, 
 pray how long has our sister been either secretary of state, or 
 minister, that she should be employed by the king to make 
 known his majesty's order ? Do you wish to know the real 
 state of the case ? Some time ago the king told Madame 155 
 how you had refused the pension the king of England offered 
 you. He appeared pleased with the manner in which Com- 
 minges had related to him the circumstances attending it, and 
 said he was pleased with you for it. Madame interpreted 
 this as an order for your recall ; and Madame de Saint Chau- 
 mont being very far from possessing that wonderful discretiou 
 she imagines herself mistress of, she hastened to despatch to 
 you this consequential order in her own hand. To conclude ; 
 Madame said yesterday, when the king was at dinner, that 
 you would very soon be here ; and the king, as soon as din- 
 der was over, commanded me to send you back as soon as you 
 arrived. Here you are ; set off again immediately." 
 
 This order might have appeared severe to the Chevalier de 
 Grammont at any other time ; but, in the present state of his 
 heart, he soon resolved upon obeying. Nothing gave him unea- 
 siness, but the officious advice which had obliged him to leave 
 the English court; and, being entirely unconcerned that he 
 was not allowed to see the French court before his departure, 
 he only desired the Marechal to obtain leave for him to stay
 
 COUNT GRAMMOXT. 293 
 
 a few days to collect in some play debts which were owing 
 him. This request was granted, on condition that he should 
 not remain in Paris. 
 
 He chose Vaugirard for his retreat. It was there that he 
 had several adventures which he so often related in so hu- 
 morous and diverting a manner, that it would be tedious to 
 repeat them. There it was that he administered the sacra- 
 ment iu so solemn a manner, that, as there did not remain a 
 sufficient number of Swiss at Versailles to guard the chapel, 
 Vardes was obliged to acquaint the king that they were all 
 gone to the Chevalier de Grammont, who was administering 
 the sacrament at Vaugirard. There likewise happened that 
 wonderful adventure which threw the first slur upon the 
 reputation of the great Saucourt, when, having a tte-a-tdte 
 with the gardener's daughter, the horn, which was agreed upon 
 as the signal to prevent surprises, was sounded so often, that 
 the frequent alarms cooled the courage of the celebrated Sau- 
 court, and rendered useless the assignation that was procured 
 f >r him with one of the prettiest girls in the neighbourhood. 
 It was, likewise, during his stay at Vaugirard, that he paid a 
 visit to Mademoiselle de 1' Hopital at Issy, to inquire into the 
 truth of a report of an amour between her and a man of the 
 long robe ; and it was there that, on his arriving unexpectedly, 
 the President de Maisons was forced to take refuge in a closet, 
 with so much precipitation, that half of his robe remained on 
 the outside when he shut the door ; while the Chevalier de 
 Grammont, who observed it, made his visit excessively long, 
 in order to keep the two lovers upon the rack. 
 
 His business being settled, he set out for England on the 
 wings of love. Termes redoubled his vigilance upon the road. 
 The post-horses were ready in an instant at every stage. The 
 winds and tides favoured his impatience; and he reached 
 London with the highest satisfaction. The court was both
 
 294 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 surprised and charmed at his sudden return. No person con- 
 doled with him upon his late disappointment, which had occa- 
 sioned him to come back, as he testified no manner of uneasiness 
 concerning it himself. Nor was Miss Hamilton in the least 
 displeased at his readiness in obeying the orders of the king 
 his master. 
 
 Nothing new had happened in the English court during his 
 short absence ; but it assumed a different aspect soon after his 
 return : I mean with respect to love and pleasure, which were 
 the most serious concerns of the court during the greatest part 
 of this gay reign. 
 
 The Duke of Monmoutli, 1 '' natural son to Charles the Se- 
 cond, now made his first appearance in his father's court : his 
 entrance upon the stage of the world was so brilliant, his am- 
 bition had occasioned so many considerable events, and the par- 
 ticulars of his tragical end are so recent, that it were needless 
 to produce any other traits to give a sketch of his character. 
 By the whole tenor of his life, he appeared to be rash in his 
 undertakings, irresolute in the execution, and dejected in his 
 misfortunes, in which, at least, an undaunted resolution ought 
 to equal the greatness of the attempt. 
 
 His figure and the exterior graces of his person were such, 
 that nature, perhaps, never formed any thing more complete : 
 his face was extremely handsome ; and yet it was a manly 
 face, neither inanimate nor effeminate; each feature having 
 its beanty and peculiar delicacy : he had a wonderful genius 
 for every sort of exercise, an engaging aspect, and an air of 
 grandeur : in a word, he possessed every personal advantage ; 
 but then, he was greatly deficient in mental accomplishments. 
 He had no sentiments but such as othera inspired him with ; 
 and those who first insinuated themselves into his friendship 
 took care to inspire him with none but such as were pernicious. 
 The astonishing beauty of his outward form caused universal
 
 COUNT GKAM.AIOXT. 29i> 
 
 admiration : those who before were looked upon as handsome. 
 were now entirely forgotteu at court ; and all the gay and 
 beautiful of the fair sex were at his devotion. He was par- 
 ticularly beloved by the king ; but the universal terror of hus- 
 bands and lovers. This, however, did not long continue ; for 
 nature not having endowed him with qualifications to secure 
 the possession of the heart, the fair sex soon perceived the 
 defect. 
 
 The Duchess of Cleveland was out of humour with the 
 king, because the children she had by his majesty were like so 
 many little puppets, compared to this new Adonis : she was 
 the more particularly hurt, as she might have boasted of being 
 the queen of love, in comparison with the duke's mother. The 
 king, however, laughed at her reproaches, as, for some time, 
 she had certainly no right to make any ; and, as this piece of 
 jealousy appeared to be more ill-founded than any she had for- 
 merly affected, no person approved of her ridiculous resent- 
 ment. Not succeeding in this, she formed another scheme to 
 give the king uneasiness : instead of opposing his extreme ten- 
 derness for his son, she pretended to adopt him in her affection, 
 by a thousand commendations and caresses, which she was 
 daily and continually increasing. As these endearments were 
 pnblic, she imagined they could not be suspected ; but she was 
 too well kuown for her real design to be mistaken. The king 
 was no longer jealous of her; but, as the Duke of Mcnmouth 
 was of an age not to be insensible to the attractions of a woman 
 possessing so many charms, he thought it proper to withdraw 
 him from this pretended mother-in-law, to preserve his inno- 
 cence, or at least his fame, uucontaminated : it was for this 
 reason, therefore, that the king married him so young. 
 
 An heiress, of five thousand pounds a year, in Scotland, of- 
 fered very d-propos : 15 ~ her person was full cf charms, and her
 
 296 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 mind possessed all those perfections in which the handsome 
 ilonmouth 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 
 Ins 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, 158 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 any one ; 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 GRA.MMONT. 297 
 
 He 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 : he then indulged himself 
 in giving luxurious descriptions of Lady Shrewsbury's most 
 secret charms and beauties, which above half the court were as 
 well acquainted with as himself. 
 
 The Duke of Buckingham was one of those who could only 
 judge from outward appearances ; 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, he 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 affording 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
 
 293 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 eloquence against her 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 
 
 O 
 
 Lady Shrewsbury remained for a long period both happy and 
 contented : 159 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 GKAMMONT. 21)9 
 
 but less dishonourable 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 hare redress for 
 his injured honour : he accordingly challenged the Duke of 
 Buckingham ; and the Duke of Buckingham, 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 16 
 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 indifferent about legitimate children, 
 since his all-charming mistresses bore him others. As all 
 the happiness of her life depended upon that blessing, and as 
 she 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 offerings 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 ! 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 ineffectual. 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 : 161 this journey was therefore fixed 
 for the next season; and in the confidence of its proving 
 effectual, this excursion would have afforded 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 hopes of success imme- 
 diately forsook her. What could the baths, or the feeble 
 virtue of the waters, perform against charms that entirely
 
 COVNT GRAMMONT. 301 
 
 counteracted their effects, either through the grief and 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 Miss 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 thiuk 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 for 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 Miss Stewart : his assiduity appeared 
 to the Chevalier de Grammont to exceed those civilities and 
 attentions that are usually paid for the purpose of making 
 court to the favourites of princes. He observed him moro 
 strictly, and soon perceived that he was deeper in love with 
 her than was consistent either with his fortune or his repose.
 
 302 WEMOIUS OF 
 
 As scon as the remarks he made had 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, 
 iu 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 pique'drs, in France ;
 
 COCXT GRAMMOXT. 303 
 
 men who always carry money about them, to enable them to 
 lend to losing gamesters, for which they receive a gratifica- 
 tion, which is nothing for such as play deep, as it is only two 
 per cent., and the money to be 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 Granimont, when he called in 
 one evening to get a glass of cider. They were playing at 
 hazard ; and as he 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 for 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 OP 
 
 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," said 
 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 offended at it ; but tell me how 
 you could resolve to banish, poor "Wetenhall from your heart, 
 and suffer 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 GUAMMOXT. 305 
 
 uinoarded him ; but, as for you, what the devil Jo 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 declares 
 himself one of her professed admirers? You will soon see 
 what he will make by it : I have not forgotten what the king 
 Kiid 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 mistress*. 
 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 
 10 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?'" 162 
 
 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 suffer myself to be se- 
 duced by the most ridiculous illusion imaginable, and to be 
 hurried away rather by frivolous appearances, than any reaJ 
 inclination : to you I owe the obligation of having preserved 
 
 x
 
 303 M1-M01RS 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 
 cou-in Weteuhall'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 Grammont : " but tell me what put it into 
 your head to form a design upon that inanimate statue, Miss 
 Stewart \" " How the devil should I know ! " said Hamilton : 
 " you are acquainted with all her childish amusements. The 
 old Lord Caiiingford 163 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 threat 
 convenience for those ladies, who. strictly adhering to all tho
 
 COUNT GRAM.MONT. 307 
 
 rules of decorum, are yet desirous to display all their cbarnis 
 and attractions. Miss Stewart is so fully acquainted with the 
 advantages she possesses over all other women, that 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 I really believe, that, witn a little address, it 
 would not be difficult to induce her to strip naked, without 
 over reflecting upon what she was doing. After all, a man 
 must l>e very insensible to remain unconcerned and unmoved 
 on such happy 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, might 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 tne whole bright 
 squadron after him, the rustling of Miss 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 in her clothes, which dis- 
 
 x 2
 
 308 JII:MO:I:S OF 
 
 played a thousand new beauties to my view. I had the goo.] 
 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 Lord Carlingford, and that mad fellow Crofts 164 (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 difficult,' 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 ire 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 experi- 
 enced from this delicate phantom ; to which she was so very 
 attentive, that she never once appeared surprised or discon- 
 erted at the luscious tale : on the contrary, she made iru; 
 repeat tne description of the beauty, which I drew as near us
 
 COUNT GKAMMOM'. 309 
 
 po.s^ible after her own person, and after such charms as I 
 imagined of beauties that were unknown to me. 
 
 ''This is, in fact, the very thing that had almost deprived 
 me of my senses : she knew very well that she herself was the 
 person I was describing : we were alone, as you may imagine, 
 when I told her this story ; and my eyes did their utmost to 
 persuade her that it was herself whom I drew. I perceived 
 that she was not in the least offended at knowing this ; nor was 
 her modesty in the least alarmed at the relation of a fiction, 
 which I might have concluded in a manner still less discreet, 
 if I had thought proper. This patient audience made me plunge 
 headlong into the ocean of flattering ideas that presented 
 themselves to my imagination. I then no longer thought of 
 the king, nor how passionately fond he was of her, nor of the 
 dangers attendant upon such an engagement : in short, I know 
 not what the devil I was thinking of; but I am very certain, 
 that if you had not been thinking for me, I might have found 
 my i uin in the midst of these distracted visions." 
 
 Not long after, the court returned to London ; and from 
 that time, some malevolent star having gained the ascendant, 
 every thing went cross in the empire of love : vexation, sus- 
 picions, or jealousies, first entered the field, to set all hearts at 
 variance ; next, false reports, slander, and disputes completed 
 the ruin of all. 
 
 The Duchess of Cleveland had been brought to bed while the 
 
 court was at Bristol ; and never before had she recoA'ered from 
 
 IKM- lying-in with such a profusion of charms. This made her 
 
 believe that she was in a proper state to retrieve her ancient 
 
 .its over the king's heart, if she had an opportunity of ap- 
 
 i-ing before him with this increased splendour. Her friends 
 
 being of the same opinion, her equipage was prepared for this 
 
 expedition ; but the very evening before the day she had fixed 
 
 on to set out, she saw young Churchill, 1 * 8 and was at once
 
 010 3IEMOI1JS OP 
 
 seized with a disease, which had more than once opposed her 
 projects, and which she could never completely get the better 
 of. 
 
 A man who, from an ensign in the guards, was raised to 
 such a fortune, must certainly possess an uncommon share of 
 prudence, not to be intoxicated with his happiness. Churchill 
 boasted in all places of the new favour he had received : the 
 Duchess of Cleveland, who neither recommended to him cir- 
 cumspection in his behaviour, nor in his conversation, did not 
 seem to be in the least concerned at his indiscretion. Thus 
 this-intrigue was become a general topic in all companies, when 
 the court arrived in London, and occasioned an immense num- 
 ber of speculations and reasonings : some said she had already 
 presented him with Jermyn's pension, and Jacob Hall's salary, 
 because the merits and qualifications of both were united in 
 his person : others maintained that he had too indolent an air, 
 and too delicate a shape, long to maintain himself in her 
 favour ; but all agreed, that a man who was the favourite of 
 the king's mistress, and brother to the duke's favourite, was in 
 a fair way of preferment, and could not fail to make his for- 
 tune. As a proof, the Duke of York soon after gave him a 
 place in his household: this was naturally to be expected : 
 but the king, who did not think that Lady Cleveland's kind- 
 ness to him was a sufficient recommendation to his favour, 
 thought proper to forbid him the court. 
 
 Tins good-natured king began now to be rather peevish; 
 nor was it altogether without reason : he disturbed no person 
 in their amours, and yet others had often the presumption to 
 encroach upon his. Lord Dorset, first lord of the bed-cham- 
 ber, had lately debauched from his service Nell Gwyn. 1K6 the 
 actress : Lady Cleveland, whom he now no longer regarded, 
 continued to disgrace him by repeated infidelities with un- 
 worthy rivals, and almost ruined him by the immense sums
 
 COUNT GRAMMOXT. 311 
 
 she lavished on her gallants ; but that which most sensibly 
 affected him, was the late coldness and threats of Miss Stewart. 
 He long since had offered her all the settlements and all the 
 titles she could desire, until he had an opportunity more effec- 
 tually to provide for her, which she had pretended only to 
 decline, for fear of the scandal they might occasion, on her 
 being raised to a rank which would attract the public notice ; 
 but since the return of the court, she had given herself other 
 airs. Sometimes she was for retiring from court, to appease 
 the continual uneasiness her presence gave the queen : at other 
 times, it was to avoid temptations, by which she wished to 
 insinuate that her innocence was still preserved. In short, 
 the king's heart was continually distracted by alarms, or 
 oppressed by humour and caprice. 
 
 As he could not for his life imagine what Miss Stewart 
 wished him to do, or what she would be at, he thought upon 
 reforming his establishment of mistresses, to try whether 
 jealousy was not the real occasion of her uneasiness. It was 
 for this reason, that, after having solemnly declared he would 
 have nothing more to say to the Duchess of Cleveland, since 
 her intrigue with Churchill, he discarded, without any excep- 
 tion, all the other mistresses which he had in various parts of the 
 town. The Nell Gwyns, the Miss Davis's, 167 and the joyous 
 train of singers and dancers in his majesty's theatre, were all 
 dismissed. All these sacrifices were ineffectual : Miss Stewart 
 continued to torment, and almost to drive the king to distrac- 
 tion ; but his majesty soon after found out the real cause of 
 this coldness. 
 
 This discovery was owing to the officious Duchess of Cleve- 
 land, who, ever since her disgrace, had railed most bitterly 
 against Miss Stewart as the cause of it, and against the king's 
 weakness, who, for an inanimate idiot, had treated her with so 
 much indignity. As some of Ler grace's creatures were still
 
 312 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 in the kiug's confidence, by their means she was informed of 
 the king's uneasiness, and that Miss Stewart's behaviour was 
 the occasion of it ; and as soon as she had found the opportunity 
 she had so long wished for, she went directly into the king's 
 cabinet, through the apartment of one of his pages called Chif- 
 finch. 168 This way was not new to her. 
 
 The king was just returned from visiting Miss Stewart, in a 
 very ill humour : the presence of the Duchess of Cleveland 
 surprised him, and did not in the least diminish it. She, per- 
 ceiving this, accosted him in an ironical tone, and with a 
 smile of indignation : " I hope," said she, " I may be allowed 
 to pay you my homage, although the angelic Stewart has for- 
 bid you to see me at my own house. I will not make use of 
 reproaches and expostulations, which would disgrace myself: 
 still less will I endeavour to excuse frailties which nothing can 
 justify, since your constancy for me deprives me of all defence, 
 considering I am the only person you have honoured with 
 your tenderness, who has made herself unworthy of it by ill 
 conduct. I come now, therefore, with no other intent than to 
 comfort and to condole with you upon the affliction and grief 
 into which the coldness, or new-fashioned chastity of the in- 
 human Stewart has reduced your majesty." These words 
 were attended by a fit of laughter, as unnatural and strained 
 as it was insulting and immoderate, which completed the 
 king's impatience : he had, indeed, expected that some bitter 
 iest would follow this preamble ; but he did not suppose she 
 would have given herself such blustering airs, considering the 
 terms they were then upon ; and, as he was preparing to an- 
 swer her, "Be not offended," said she, "that I take the li- 
 berty of laughing at the gross mauuer in which you are imposed 
 upon : I cannot bear to see that such particular affectation 
 should make you the jest of your own court, and that you 
 should be ridiculed with such impunity. I know that the
 
 COUNT GKAM3IONT 313 
 
 nfi'ectcd Stewart has sent you away, under pretence of dome 
 indisposition, or perhaps some scruple of conscience ; and I 
 come to acquaint you that the Duke of Richmond will soon be 
 with her, if he is not there already. I do not desire you to 
 believe what I say, since it might be suggested, either through 
 resentment or envy : only follow me to her apartment, either 
 that, no longer trusting calumny and malice, you may honour 
 her with a just preference, if I accuse her falsely ; or, if my 
 information be true, you may no longer be the dupe of a pre- 
 tended prude, who makes you act so unbecoming and ridicu- 
 lou.s a part." 
 
 As she ended this speech, she took him by the hand, while 
 lie was yet undecided, and pulled him away towards her 
 rival's apartments. Chiffinch being in her interest, Miss 
 Stewart could have no warning of the visit; and Babiani, who 
 owed all to the Duchess of Cleveland, and who served her 
 admirably well upon this occasion, came and told her that the 
 Duke of Richmond had just gone into Miss Stewart's cham- 
 ber. It was in the middle of a little gallery, which, through 
 a private door, led from the king's apartments to those of his 
 mistresses. The Duchess of Cleveland wished him good-night, 
 as he entered her rival's chamber, and retired, in order to 
 wait the success of the adventure, of which Babiani, who 
 attended the kinj- ^as charged to come and give her an 
 ac -cunt. 
 
 It was near midnight : the kins', in his way, met his mis- 
 tn\s.i'.s chambermaids, who respectfully opposed his entrance, 
 ami, in a very low voice, whispered his majesty that Mis.s 
 Stewart had been very ill since he left her; but that, being 
 gone to bed, she was, God be thanked, in a very fine sleep. 
 " That I must see," said the king, pushing her back, who 
 had posted herself in his way. He found Miss Stewart in 
 bed, indeed, but fur from being asleep : the Duke of Rich-
 
 314 MliMOIKS OF 
 
 mond was seated at her pillow, and in all probability was 
 less inclined to sleep than herself. The perplexity of the 
 one party, and the rage of the other, were such as may easily 
 be imagined upon such a surprise. The king, who, of all 
 men, was one of the most mild and gentle, testified his re- 
 sentment to the Duke of Richmond in such terms as he had 
 never before used. The duke was speechless, and almost 
 petrified : he saw his master and his king justly irritated. 
 The first transports which rage inspires on such occasions are 
 dangerous: Miss Stewart's window was very convenient for 
 a sudden revenge, the Thames flowing close beneath it : he 
 cast his eyes upon it; and, seeing those of the king more 
 incensed and fired with indignation than he thought his 
 nature capable of, he made a profound bow, and retired, 
 without replying a single word to the vast torrent of threats 
 and menaces that were poured upon him. 
 
 j\Iiss Stewart, having a little recovered from her first sur- 
 prise, 1CO instead of justifying herself, began to talk in the 
 most extravagant manner, and said every thing that was 
 most capable to inflame the king's passion and resentment; 
 that, if she were not allowed to receive visits from a man of 
 the Duke of Richmond's rank, who came with honourable 
 intentions, she was a slave in a free country ; that she knew 
 of no engagement that could prevent her from disposing of 
 her hand as she thought proper ; but, however, if this was 
 not permitted her in his dominions, she did not believe that 
 there was any power on earth that could hinder her from 
 going over to France, and throwing herself into a convent, 
 to enjoy there that tranquillity which was denied her in his 
 court. The king, sometimes furious with anger, sometimes 
 relenting at her tears, and sometimes terrified at her menaces, 
 was so greatly agitated, that he knew not how to answer, 
 either the nicety of a creature who wanted to act the part of
 
 COl :,NT GRAMMONT. 315 
 
 Lucretia under his own eye, or the assurance with which she 
 had the effrontery to reproach him. In this suspense, love 
 had almost entirely vanquished all bis resentments, and had 
 nearly induced him to throw himself upon his knees, and 
 entreat pardon for the injury he had done her, when she 
 desired him to retire, and leave her in repose, at least for 
 the remainder of that night, without offending those who had 
 either accompanied him, or conducted him to her apartments, 
 by a longer visit. This impertinent request provoked and 
 irritated him to the highest decree: he went out abruptly, 
 vowing never to see her more, and passed the most restless 
 and uneasy night he had ever experienced since his restora- 
 tion. 
 
 The next day the Duke of Richmond received orders to 
 quit the court, and never more to appear before the king; 
 but it seems he had not waited for those orders, having set 
 out early that morning for his country seat. 
 
 j\liss Stewart, in order to obviate all injurious construc- 
 tions that might be put upon the adventure of the preceding 
 night, went and threw herself at the queen's feet; where, 
 actinir the new part of an innocent Magdalen, she entreated 
 her majesty's forgiveness for all the sorrow and uneasiness 
 she might have already occasioned her : she told her majesty 
 that a constant and siiu-ere repentance had induced her to 
 contrive all possible means for retiring from court ; that this 
 reason hail inclined her to receive the Duke of Richmond's 
 addresses, who had courted her a long time; but since this 
 courtship had caused his disgrace, and had likewise raised ;i 
 vast noise and disturbance, which perhaps might be turned 
 to the prejudice of her reputation, she conjured her majesty 
 to take her under her protection, and endeavour to obtain 
 the king's permission for her to retire into a convent, to re-
 
 ^1G MEMOIRS OP 
 
 move at once all those vexations and troubles her presence 
 had innocently occasioned at court : all this was accompanied 
 with a proper deluge of tears. 
 
 It is a very agreeable spectacle to see a rival prostrate at 
 our feet, entreating pardon, and at the same time justifying 
 her conduct. The queen's heart not only relented, but she 
 mingled her own tears with those of Miss Stewart : after 
 having raised her up, and most tenderly embraced her, she 
 promised her all manner of favour and protection, either in 
 her marriage, or in any other course she thought fit to pursue, 
 and parted from her with the firm resolution to exert all her 
 interest in her support; but, being a person of great judg- 
 ment, the reflections which she afterwards made induced her 
 to change her opinion. 
 
 She knew that the king's disposition was not capable of 
 an obstinate constancy : she therefore judged that absence 
 would cure him, or that a new engagement would by degrees 
 entirely efface the remembrance of Miss Stewart : and that, 
 since she could not avoid having a rival, it was more desir- 
 able she should be one who had given such eminent proofs of 
 her prudence and virtue. Besides, she flattered herself that 
 the king would ever think himself eternally obliged to her, 
 for having opposed the retreat and marriage of a girl, whom 
 at that time he loved to distraction. This fine reasoning 
 determined her conduct. All her industry was employed in 
 persuading Miss Stewart to abandon her schemes ; and what 
 is most extraordinary in this adventure, is, that, after having 
 prevailed upon her to think no more either of the Duke of 
 Richmond, or of a nunnery, she charged herself with the 
 olHee of reconciling these two lovers. 
 
 Indeed it would have been a thousand pities if her negotia- 
 tion had miscarried : but she did not suffer this misfortune ;
 
 COI:M GiiA.MMoxT. 317 
 
 for never were the king's addresses so eager and passionate 
 as after this peace, nor ever better received by the fair 
 .Stewart. 
 
 His majesty did not long enjoy the sweets of a reconcilia- 
 tion which brought him into the best good humour possible, as 
 we shall see. All Europe was in a profound peace, since the 
 treaty of the Pyrenees : Spain flattered herself she should be 
 able to recruit, by means of the new alliance she had contracted 
 with the most formidable of her neighbours ; but despaired of 
 being able to support the shattered remains of a declining mo- 
 narchy, when she considered the age and infirmities of her 
 prince, or the weakness of his successor : France, on the con- 
 trary, governed by a king indefatigable in business, young, 
 vigilant, and ambitious of glory, wanted nothing but inclina- 
 tion to aggrandize herself. 
 
 It was about this time, that the king of France, not willing 
 to disturb the tranquillity of Europe, was persuaded to alarm 
 the coasts of Africa, by an attempt, which if it had even been 
 crowned with success, would have produced little good : but 
 the king's fortune, ever faithful to his glory, has since made it 
 appear, by the miscarriage of the expedition of Gigeri, 170 that 
 such projects only as were planned by himself were worthy of 
 his attention. 
 
 A short time after, the king of England, having resolved 
 also to explore the African coasts, fitted out a squadron for an 
 expedition to Guinea., which was to be commanded by Prince 
 Rupert. 1 " 1 Those who, from their own experience, had some 
 knowledge of the country, related strange and wonderful sto- 
 ries of the dangers attendant upon this expedition : that the}' 
 would have to fight not only the inhabitants of Guinea, a hell- 
 ish people, whose arrows were poisoned, and who never gave 
 their prisoners better quarter than to devour them, but that, 
 they must likewise endure heats that were insupportable, and
 
 018 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 rains that were intolerable, every drop of which was changed 
 into a serpent : that, if they penetrated farther into the coun- 
 try, they would be assaulted by monsters a thousand times 
 more hideous and destructive than all the beasts mentioned in 
 the Revelations. 
 
 But all these reports were vain and ineffectual : for so far 
 from striking terror into those who were appointed to go upon 
 this expedition, it rather acted as an incentive to glory, upon 
 those who had no manner of business in it. Jermyn appeared 
 among the foremost of those ; and, without reflecting that the 
 pretence of his indisposition had delayed the conclusion of his 
 marriage with Miss Jennings, he asked the duke's permission 
 and the king's consent to serve in it as a volunteer. 
 
 Some time before this, the infatuation which had imposed 
 upon the fair Jennings in his favour, had begun to subside. 
 All that now inclined her to this match were the advantages 
 of a settlement. The careless indolence of a lover, who faintly 
 paid his addresses to her, as it were, from custom or habit, dis- 
 gusted her; and the resolution he had taken, without consult- 
 ing her, appeared so ridiculous in him, and so injurious to her- 
 self, that, from that moment, she resolved to think no more of 
 him. Her eyes being opened by degrees, she saw the fallacy 
 of the splendour which had at first deceived her ; and the re- 
 nowned Jermyn was received according to his real merit when 
 he came to acquaint her with his heroical project. There ap- 
 peared so much indifference and ease in the raillery with which 
 she complimented him upon his voyage, that he was entirely 
 disconcerted, and so much the more so, as he had prepared all 
 the arguments he thought capable of consoling her, upon an- 
 nouncing to her the fatal news of his departure. She told 
 him " that nothing could be more glorious for him, who had 
 triumphed over the liberty of so many persons in Europe, than 
 logo and extend hi? conquests in other parts of the world;
 
 COUNT GUAM-MONT. 319 
 
 and that she advised him to bring home with him all the female 
 captives he might make in Africa, in order to replace those 
 beauties whom his absence would bring to the grave." 
 
 Jermyn was highly displeased that she should be capable of 
 raillery in the condition he supposed her reduced to; but he 
 soon perceived she was in earnest. She told him, that she 
 considered this farewell visit as his last, and desired him not 
 to think of making her any more before his departure. 
 
 Thus far every thing went well on her side. Jermyn was 
 not only confounded at having received his discharge in so 
 cavalier a manner; but this very demonstration of her indif- 
 ference had revived, and even redoubled, all the love and af- 
 fection he had formerly felt for her. Thus she had both the 
 pleasure of despising him, and of seeing him more entangled 
 in the chains of love than he had ever been before. This was 
 not sufficient : she wished still farther, and very unadvisedly, 
 to strain her resentment. 
 
 Ovid's Epistles, 172 translated into English verse by the great- 
 est wits at court, having lately been published, she wrote a letter 
 from a shepherdess in despair, addressed to the perfidious Jer- 
 myn. She took the epistle of Ariadne to Theseus fur her 
 model. The beginning of this letter contained, word for word, 
 the complaints and reproaches of that injured fair to the cruel 
 man by whom she had been abandoned. All this was pro- 
 perlv adapted to the present times and circumstances. It was 
 her design to have closed this piece with a description of the 
 toils, perils, and monsters that awaited him in Guinea, for 
 which he quitted a tender mistress, who was plunged into the 
 ubyss of misery, and was overwhelmed with grief and de- 
 spair; but not having had time to finish it, nor to get that 
 which she had written, transcribed, in order to send it to him 
 under a feigned name, she inconsiderately put this fragment, 
 written in her own hand, into her pocket, and still more gid-
 
 320 MK.MOIKS OP 
 
 (lily dropped it in the middle of the court. Those who took 
 it up, knowing her writing, made several copies of it, which 
 were circulated all over the town ; but her former conduct had 
 no well established the reputation of her virtue, that no per- 
 son entertained the smallest doubt but the circumstances were 
 exactly as we have related them. Some time after, the Gui- 
 nea expedition was laid aside for reasons that are universally 
 known, and Miss Jennings's subsequent proceedings fully jus- 
 tified her letter ; for, notwithstanding all the efforts and atten- 
 tions Jermyn practised to regain her affections, she would never 
 more hear of him. 
 
 But he was not the only man who experienced the whim- 
 sical fatality, that seemed to delight in disuniting hearts, in 
 order to engage them soon after to different objects. One 
 would have imagined, that the God of Love, actuated by some 
 new caprice, had placed his empire under the dominion of 
 Hymen, and had, at the same time, blind-folded that god, in 
 order to cross-match most of the lovers whom we have been 
 speaking of. 
 
 The fair Stewart married the Duke of Richmond ; the in- 
 vincible Jermyn, a silly country girl ; 173 Lord Rochester a 
 melancholy heiress; 174 the sprightly Temple, the serious Lit- 
 tleton ; Talbot, without knowing why or wherefore, took to 
 wife the languishing Boyntou; 175 George Hamilton, under 
 more favourable auspices, married the lovely Jennings ; and 
 the Chevalier de Grammont, as the reward of a constancy he 
 had never before known, and which he never afterwards prac- 
 tised, found Hymen and Love united in his favour, and \vu.s 
 at last blessed with the possession of Miss Hamilton. 1/0
 
 NOTES 
 
 AXD 
 
 ILLUSTEATIONS.
 
 NOTES 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 NOTE 1, Page 35. 
 Bussi and St. Etrsmont. 
 
 Voltaire, in the Age of Lewis XIV., ch. 24, speaking of that monarch, 
 says, " Even at the same time when he began to encourage genius by his 
 liberality, the Court de Bussi was severely punished for the use he made 
 of his : he was sent to the Bastile in 1GG4. THE AMOURS OF THE 
 GAULS was the pretence of his imprisonment ; but the true cause was the 
 song in which the king was treated with too much freedom, and whicii, 
 upon this occasion, was brought to remembrance, to ruin Bussi, the re- 
 puted author of it. 
 
 " Qua Deodatus estheureux, 
 De baiser ce bee amoreux, 
 Qai d'une oreille a 1'autre va ! 
 
 " See Deodatus with his billing dear, 
 V.'hose amorous mouth breathes love from ear to ear ! 
 
 " His works were not good enough to compensate for the mischief they 
 did him. He spoke his own language with purity ; he had some merit, 
 but more conceit : and he made no use of the merit he had, but to make 
 himself enemies." Voltaire adds, " Bussi was released at the end of 
 eighteen months ; but he was in disgrace all the rest of his life, in vain 
 protesting a regard for Lewis XIV." Bussi died 1693. Of St. Eyre- 
 rnont, see note, posted. 
 
 NOTE 2, Page 36. 
 
 Louis XIII. 
 
 Son and successor of Henry IV. He began to reign 14th May, 1610, 
 and died 14th May, 1643. 
 
 y 2
 
 324 NOTES AMJ 
 
 NOTE 3, Page 36. 
 Cardinal de Richelieu. 
 
 Of this great minister Mr. Hume gives the following character : 
 " This man had no sooner, by suppleness and intrigue, gotten possession 
 of the reins of government, than he formed at once three mighty projects 
 to subdue the turbulent spirit of the great ; to reduce the rebellious 
 Hugonots ; and to curb the encroaching power of the house of Austria. 
 Undaunted and implacable, prudent and active, he braved all the opposi- 
 tion of the French princes and nobles in the prosecution of his vengeance; 
 he discovered and dissipated all their secret cabals and conspiracies. His 
 sovereign himself he held in subjection, while he exalted the throne. The 
 people, while they lost their liberties, acquired, by means of his adminis- 
 tration, learning, order, discipline, and renown. That confused and in- 
 accurate genius of government, of which France partook in common with 
 other European kingdoms, he changed into a simple monarchy, at the very 
 time when the incapacity of Buckingham encouraged the free spirit of the 
 Commons to establish in England a regular system of liberty." (History 
 of England, vol. iv. p. 232.) Cardinal Richelieu died 1042. 
 
 NOTE 4, Page 30. 
 Siege of Trino. 
 Trino was taken 4th May, 1639. 
 
 NOTE 5, Page 30. 
 Prince Thomas 
 Of Savoy, uncle of the reigning duke. He died 1056. 
 
 NOTE 6, Page 37. 
 
 .4* the post of Lieutenant-General was not then known. 
 The author has here made a mistake; for in the year 1638, while the 
 Duke of Weimar was besieging Brisac, Cardinal Richelieu sent him two 
 reinforcements, under the conduct of Turenne and the Count de Gue- 
 briant, as Lieutenant- Generals, a rank till that time not known in France. 
 Memoires de Turenne. 
 
 NOTE 7, Page 37. 
 
 Du P less is Praslin, 
 
 Afterwards Marechal and Duke de Choiseul. He retired from the 
 army in 1672. Monsieur Henault, in his History of France, under that 
 year, says, " Le Marechal du Plessis ne fit pas cette campagne a cause 
 de son grand age ; il dit au roi, qu'il portoit envie a ses enfans, qui avoient 
 1'honneur de servir sa majeste, que pour lui il souhaitoit la mort, puisqu'il 
 n'etoit plus bon a rien ; le roi 1'embrassa. et lui dit : M. le Marechal, on 
 ne travaille que pour approcher tic la reputation que vous avcz acquise ; 
 il eat aurvalle de se reposcr apres taut de vicioires."
 
 JLLUSTItATIONS. 325 
 
 NOTE 8, Page 3". 
 Viscount Tiirenne. 
 
 This great general was killed July 27, 1675, by a cannot-shot, near the 
 village of Saltzback, in going to choose a place whereon to erect a bat- 
 tery. "No one," says Voltaire, "is ignorant of the circumstances of 
 his death ; but we cannot here refrain a review of the principal of them, 
 for the same reason that they are still talked of every day. It seems as 
 if one could not too often repeat, that the same bullet which killed him, 
 having shot off the arm of St. Hilaire, lieutenant-general of the artillery, 
 his son came and bewailed his misfortune with many tears ; but the father, 
 looking towards Turenne, said, ' It is not I, but that great man, who 
 should be lamented.' These words may be compared with the most heroic 
 sayings recorded in all history, and are the best eulogy that can be be- 
 stowed upon Turenne. It is uncommon, under a despotic government, 
 where people are actuated only by their private interests, for those who 
 have served their country to die regretted by the public. Nevertheless, 
 Turenne was lamented both by the soldiers and people ; and Louvois was 
 the only one who rejoiced at his death. The honours which the king or- 
 dered to be paid to his memory are known to every one ; and that he was 
 interred at St. Denis, in the same manner as the Constable du Guesclin, 
 above whom he was elevated by the voice of the public, as much as the 
 age of Turenne was superior to the age of the constable. 
 
 " Turenne had not always been successful in his wars ; he had been de- 
 feated at Mariendal, Retel, and Cambray : he had also committed errors, 
 and was himself so great a man as to confess them. He never made great 
 and celebrated conquests, nor ever gained those great and important vic- 
 tories, by which nations are subjected : but having always repaired his 
 defeats, and done a great deal with a little, he was regarded as the first 
 general in Europe, at a time when the art of war was more studied and 
 better understood than ever. Moreover, though he was reproached for 
 his infidelity in the wars of the Fronde ; though, at the age of sixty years, 
 love made him reveal the secrets of the state ; and though he had exer- 
 cised cruelties in the Palatinate, which did not appear necessary ; yet he 
 had always the happiness to preserve the reputation of an honest, wise, 
 and moderate man ; because his virtues and his great abilities, which were 
 peculiar to himself, made those errors and weaknesses pardonable in him, 
 which he had in common with the rest of mankind. If he can be com- 
 pared to any one, we presume, that among all the generals of the pre- 
 ceding ages, Gonzalvo de Cordova, surnamed the Great Captain, is the 
 man whom he most resembles." The Age of Louis XIV. ch. 11. 
 
 In former editions, the quotation from Voltaire was yet longer. It is 
 more germain to the present matter to observe, that it appears, from the 
 Memoirs of St. Hilaire, where Voltaire found his anecdote, that Count 
 Hamilton was present at the death of Turenne. Monsieur de Boze had 
 twice sent to Turenne, to beg him to come to the place where the bat- 
 tery was to be erected, which Turenne, as if by presentiment, declined. 
 Count Hamilton brought the third anxious request from De Boze ; and 
 in riding to the place where he was, Turenne received bis death-blow.
 
 326 NOTES AND 
 
 The horse of Montecuculi, the opposite general, was, in the course of the 
 same day, killed by a cannon-shot. 
 
 NOTE 9, Page 37. 
 Of this number was Malta. 
 
 Matta, or Matha, of whom Hamilton has drawn so striking a pictuie, 
 is said to have been of the house of Bourdeille, which had the honour to 
 produce Brantome and Montresor. The combination of indolence and 
 talent, of wit and simplicity, of bluntness and irony, with which he is 
 represented, may have been derived from tradition, but could only have 
 been united into the inimitable whole by the pen of Hamilton. Several 
 of his bou mots have been preserved ; but the spirit evaporates in trans- 
 lation. " Where could I get this nose," said Madame D'Albret, observ- 
 ing a slight tendency to a flush hi that feature. " At the sideboard, 
 madam," answered Matta. When the same lady, in despair at her bro- 
 ther's death, refused all nourishment, Matta administered this blunt con- 
 solation : "If you are resolved, madam, never again to swallow food, you 
 do well ; but if ever you mean to eat upon any future occasion, believe 
 me, you may as well begin just now." Madame Caylus, in her Souvenirs, 
 commemorates the simple and natural humour of Matta, as rendering him 
 the most delightful society in the world. Mademoiselle, in her Memoirs, 
 alludes to his pleasantry in conversation, and turn for deep gaming. 
 When the Memoirs of Grammont were subjected to the examination of 
 Fontenelle, then censor of the Parisian press, he refused to license them, 
 on account of the scandalous conduct imputed to Grammont in this party 
 at quinze. The count no sooner heard of this than he hastened to Fon- 
 tenelle, and having joked him for being more tender of his reputation 
 than he was himself, the license was instantly issued. The censor might 
 have retorted upon Grammont the answer which the count made to a 
 widow, who received coldly his compliments of condolence on her hus- 
 band's death. " Nay, madam, if that is the way you take it, I care as 
 little about it as you do." He died in 1674. "Matta est mort sans 
 confession," says Madame Maintenon, in a letter to her brother. Tome 
 i. p. 67. 
 
 NOTE 10, Page 40. 
 Ctssars de Vend6me. 
 
 Caesar Duke de Vendome was the eldest son of Henry IV., by the cele- 
 brated Gabrielle d'Estrges. He died in 1665. 
 
 NOTE 11, Page 40. 
 The college of Pan, 
 
 Pan was the capital of the principality of Beam, and lies on an emi- 
 nence on the Gave Bearnois, being indeed small and well built, and for- 
 merly the seat of a parliament, a bailiwick, and a chamber of accounts. 
 In the palace here was born Henry IV. Exclusive of an academy of 
 sciences and liberal arts, there was in it a college of Jesuits, with five con- 
 verts, and two hospitals.
 
 ILLUSTHATIOSS. 327 
 
 NOTE 12, Page 42. 
 
 Bidache. 
 
 A principality belonging to the family of the Gramtuonts, in the pro- 
 vince of Gascogny. 
 
 NOTE 13, Page 55. 
 The Baron de Battevillc. 
 
 This officer appears to have been the same person who was afterwards 
 ambassador from Spain to the court of Great Britain, where, in the sum- 
 mer of 1660, he offended the French court, by claiming precedence of their 
 ambassador, Count D'Estrades, on the public entry of the Swedish am- 
 nassador into London. On this occasion the court of France compelled 
 its rival of Spain to submit to the mortifying circumstance of acknow- 
 ledging the French superiority. To commemorate this important victory, 
 Lewis XIV. caused a medal to be struck, representing the Spanish ambas- 
 sador, Marquis de Fuente, making the declaration to that king, " No 
 concurrer con los ambassadores de Francia," with this inscription, " Jus 
 prsecedendi assertum," and under it, " Hispanorum excusatio coram xxx 
 legatis principuui, 1662." A very curious account of the fray occasioned 
 by this dispute, drawn up by Mr. Evelyn, is to be seen in that gentleman's 
 article in the Biographia Britannica. Lord Clarendon, speaking of Baron 
 de Batteville, says, he was born in Burgundy, in the Spanish quarters, and 
 bred a soldier, in which profession he was an officer of note, and at that 
 time was governor of St. Sebastian's, and of that province. He seemed 
 a rough man, and to have more of the camp, but in truth, knew the in- 
 trigues of a court better than most Spaniards ; and, except when his pas- 
 sion surprised him, was wary and cunning in his negotiation. He lived 
 with less reservation and more jollity than the ministers of that crown used 
 to do, and drew such of the court to his table and conversation, who he 
 observed were loud talkers, and confident enough in the king's presence. 
 Continuation of Clarendon, p. 84. 
 
 NOTE 14, Page 5". 
 Madame Roy ale. 
 
 Christina, second daughter of Henry IV., married to Victor Amadeus, 
 Prince of Piedmont, afterwards Dnke of Savoy. She seems to have been 
 well entitled to the character here given of her. Keysler, in his Travels, 
 vol. i. p. 239, speaking of a tine villa, called La Vigne de Madame Roy- 
 ale, near Turin, says, " During the minority under the regent Christina, 
 both the house and garden were often the scenes of riot and debauchery. 
 On this account, in the king's advanced age, when he was, as it were, 
 inflamed with an external flame of religion, and with which possibly the 
 admonitions of his father-confessor might concur, this place became sfi 
 odious to him, that, upon the death of Madame Royale, he bestowed it on 
 the hospital." She died in 1663.
 
 32S NOTES AND 
 
 NOTE In, Page 59. 
 The Marchioness de Senantes. 
 
 Lord Orford says, the family of Senantes still remains in Piedmont, 
 and bears the title of Marquis de Carailles. 
 
 NOTE 16, Page 60. 
 
 La Venerie. 
 
 This place is thus described by Keysler. Travels, vol. i. p. 235. 
 " The palace most frequented by the royal family is La Venerie, the court 
 generally continuing there from the spring to December. It is about a 
 league from Turin : the road that leads to it is well paved, and the greatest 
 part of it planted with trees on each side : it is not always in a direct line, 
 but runs a little winding between line meadows, fields, and vineyards." 
 After describing the palace as it then was, he adds, " The palace garden 
 at present consists only of hedges and walks, whereas formerly it had fine 
 water-works and grottos, besides the fountain of Hercules and the temple 
 of Diana, of which a description may be seen in the Nouveau Theatre de 
 Piedmont. But now nothing of these remains, being gone to ruin, partly 
 by the ravages of the French, and partly by the king's order that they 
 should be demolished, to make room for something else ; but those va- 
 cuities have not yet, and probably will not very soon be filled up." 
 
 NOTE 17, Page 83. 
 The Prince de Conde. 
 
 Lewis of Bourbon, Duke d'Enguien, afterwards, by the death of his 
 father in 1646, Prince de Conde. Of this great man Cardinal de Retz 
 says, "he was born a general, which never happened but to Caesar, to 
 Spinola, and to himself. He has equalled the first : he has surpassed the 
 second. Intrepidity is one of the least shining strokes in his character. 
 Nature had formed him with a mind as great as his courage. Fortune, in 
 setting him out in a time of wars, has given this last a full extent to work 
 in : his birth, or rather his education, in a family devoted and enslaved to the 
 court, has kept the first within too strait bounds. Ke was not taught time 
 enough the great and general maxims which alone are able to form men to 
 think always consistently. He never had time to learn them of himself, 
 because he was prevented from his youth, by the great affairs that fell un- 
 f xpectedly to his share, and by the continual success he met with. This 
 detect in him was the cause, that with the soul in the world the least in- 
 clined to evil, he has committed injuries ; that with the heart of an Alex- 
 ander, he has, like him, had his failings ; that with a wonderful under - 
 anding, he has acted imprudently ; that having all the qualities which 
 e Duke Francis of Guise had, he has not served the state in some occa- 
 sions so well as he ought ; and that having likewise all the qualities of the 
 Duke Henry of Guise, he has not carried faction so far as he might. He 
 could not come up to the height of his merit ; which, though it be a 
 defect, must yet be owned to be very uncommon, and only to be found in 
 persons of the greatest abilities." Memoirs, vol. i. p. 248, edit. 1723.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 320 
 
 He retired from the army, soon after the death of Turenne, to Chantilly, 
 "from whence," says Voltaire, "he very rarely came to Versailles, to 
 behold his glory eclipsed in a place where the courtier never regards any 
 thing but favour. He passed the remainder of his days, tormented with 
 the gout, relieving the severity of his pains, and employing the leisure of 
 his retreat, in the conversation of men of genius of all kinds, with which 
 France then abounded. He was worthy of their conversation ; as he was 
 not unacquainted with any of those aris and sciences in which they shone. 
 He continued to be admired even in his retreat ; but at last that devouring 
 fire, which, in his youth, had made him a hero, impetuous, and full of 
 passions, having consumed the strength of his body, which was naturally 
 rather agile than robust, he declined before his time ; and the strength of his 
 mind decaying with that of his body, there remained nothing of the great 
 Conde during the last two years of his life. He died in 1686.'' Age of 
 Lewis XIV., chap. 11. He was aged 66 years. 
 
 [Pepys says, " The Prince of Conde 's excellence is, that there is not a 
 more furious man in the world ; danger in fight never disturbs him, ex- 
 cept just to make him civil, and to command in words of great obligation 
 to his officers and men ; but without any the least disturbance in his judg- 
 ment or spirit."] 
 
 NOTE 18, Page 83. 
 
 Battles of Lens, Norlinguin, and Friboury. 
 These were fought in the years 1648, 1645, and 1644. 
 
 NOTE 19, Page 84. 
 
 The Queen. 
 
 Anne of Austria, daughter of Philip III. of Spain, widow of Lewis XIII.. 
 to whom she was married in 1615, and mother of Lewis XIV. She died 
 in 1666. Cardinal de Retz speaks of her in the following terms. " The 
 queen had more than anybody whom I ever knew, of that sort of wit 
 which was necessary for her not to appear a fool to those that did not know 
 her. She had in her more of harshness than haughtiness ; more of haugh- 
 tiness than of greatness ; more of outward appearance than reality ; more 
 regard to money than liberality ; more of liberality than of self-interest ; 
 more of self-interest than disinterestedness : she was more tied to persons 
 by habit than by affection ; she had more of insensibility than of cruelty ; 
 she had a better memory for injuries than for benefits ; her intention to- 
 wards piety was greater than her piety ; she had in her more of obstinacy 
 than of firmness ; and more incapacity than of all the rest which I men- 
 tioned before." Memoirs, vol. i. p. 247. 
 
 NOTE 20, Page 84. 
 The policy of the minister. 
 
 Cardinal Mazarine, who, during a few of the latter years of his life, 
 governed France. He died at Vincenues the 9th of March 1661, aged 59 
 years, leaving as heir to his name and property the Marquis de ia Meil-
 
 330 NOTES AND 
 
 leray, who married his niece, and took the title of Duke of Mazarine. 
 On his death, Lewis XIV. and the court appeared in mourning, an 
 honour not common, though Henry IV. had shewn it to the memory 
 of Gabrielle d'Estrees. Voltaire, who appears unwilling to ascribe much 
 ability to the cardinal, takes an opportunity, on occasion of his death, to 
 make the following observation. " We cannot refrain from combating 
 the opinion, which supposes prodigious abilities, and a genius almost 
 divine, in those who have governed empires with some degree of success. 
 It is not a superior penetration that makes statesmen ; it is their charac- 
 ter. All men, how inconsiderable soever their share of sense may be, 
 see their own interest nearly alike. A citizen of Bern or Amsterdam, in 
 this respect, is equal to Sejanus, Ximenes, Buckingham, Richelieu, or 
 Mazarine ; but our conduct and our enterprises depend absolutely on 
 our natural dispositions, and our success depends upon fortune." Age 
 of Lewis XIV, chap. 5. 
 
 NOTE 21, Page 85. 
 
 The Archduke. 
 Leopold, brother of the Emperor Ferdinand III. 
 
 NOTE 22, Page 85. 
 
 Peronne. 
 
 A little but strong town, standing among marshes on the river Somrne, 
 in Picardy. 
 
 NOTE 23, Page 85. 
 The battle of Rocroy. 
 
 This famous battle was fought and won 19th May, 1643, five days after 
 the death of Lewis XIII. 
 
 NOTE 24, Page 85. 
 The siege of Arras. 
 
 Voltaire observes, that it was the fortune of Turenne and Conde to be 
 always victorious when they fought at the head of the French, and to be 
 vanquished when they commanded the Spaniards. This was Conde's fate 
 before Arras, August 25, 1654, when he and the archduke besieged that 
 city. Turenne attacked them in their camp, and forced their lines : the 
 troops of the archduke were cut to pieces ; and Conde, with two regi- 
 ments of French and Lorrainers, alone sustained the efforts of Turenne's 
 army ; and, while the archduke was flying, he defeated the Marshal de 
 Hoquincourt, repulsed the Marshal de la Ferte, and retreated victoriously 
 himself, by covering the retreat of the vanquished Spaniards. The king 
 of Spain, in his letter to him after this engagement, had these words : 
 " I have been informed that every thing was lost, and that you have 
 recovered every thing."
 
 ILLUSTKA'I IONS. 331 
 
 NOTE 25, Page 87. 
 
 The Duke of York. 
 
 Priorato, in his Memoirs of Cardinal Mazarine, mentions other Eng- 
 lishmen besides the Duke of York being present ; as Lords Gerrard, Bar- 
 clay, and Jermyn, with others. Memoirs, 12mo., 1673, tome i. pt. 3, 
 p. 365. 
 
 NOTE 26, Page 87. 
 Marquis de Humieres. 
 
 Lewis de Crevans, marechal of France. He died 1694. Voltaire says 
 of him, that he was the first who. at the siege of Arras, in 1658, was 
 served in silver in the trenches, and had ragouts and entremets served up 
 to his table. 
 
 NOTE 27, Page 91. 
 
 Monimorency. 
 
 Henry Duke of Montmorency, who was taken prisoner 1st September. 
 1632, and had his head struck off at Thoulouse in the month of November 
 following. 
 
 NOTE 28, Page 93. 
 
 Bapaume. 
 
 A fortified town in Artois, seated in a barren country, without rivers 
 or springs, and having an old palace, which gave rise to the town, with 
 a particular governor of its own, a royal and forest court. In 1641 the 
 French took it from the Spaniards. 
 
 NOTE 29, Page 97. 
 
 Without doubt he would have yiven him some severe reply. 
 This spirit seems not always to have attended him in his transactions 
 with the cardinal. On occasion of the entry of the king in 1660, " Le 
 Chevalier de Grammont, Rouville, Bellefonds, and some other courtiers, 
 attended in the cardinal's suite, a degree of flattery which astonished 
 every body who knew him. I was informed that the chevalier wore a 
 very rich orange-coloured dress on that occasion." Leitrts de Main- 
 tenon, tome i. p. 32. 
 
 NOTE 30, Page 97. 
 Peter Mazarine. 
 
 Peter Mazarine was father to the cardinal. He was a native of Palermo 
 in Sicily, which place he left in order to settle at Rome, where he died in 
 the year 1654. 
 
 NOTE 31, Page 99. 
 The pec.ce of the Pyrenees. 
 This treaty was concluded 7th November, 1659.
 
 332 NOTES AND 
 
 NOTE 32, Page 99. 
 The king's marriage. 
 
 Lewis XIV. with Mary Theresa of Austria. She was born 20th Sep- 
 tember, 1638, married 1st June, 1660, and entered Paris 26th August 
 following. She died at Versailles 30th July, 1683, and was buried at 
 St. Denis. 
 
 NOTE 33, Page 99. 
 The return of Prince de Conde. 
 llth April. See De Retz's Memoirs, vol. iii. p. 119. 
 
 NOTE 34, Page 101. 
 
 La Motle Houdancourt, Meneville. 
 
 These two ladies at this period seem to have made a distinguished 
 figure in the annals of gallantry. One of their contemporaries mentions 
 them in these terms : "In this case, perhaps, I can give a better account 
 than most people ; as, for instance, they had raised a report, when the 
 queen-mother expelled Mademoiselle de la Motte Agencourt, that it was 
 on his score, when I am assured, upon very good grounds, that it was 
 for entertaining the Marquis de Richelieu against her majesty's express 
 command. This lady, who was one of her maids of honour, was a person 
 whom I was particularly acquainted with ; and that so much, as I was 
 supposed to have a passion for her ; she was counted one of the finest 
 women of the court, and therefore I was not displeased at all to have it 
 thought so ; for, except Mademoiselle de Meneville (who had her ad- 
 mirers), there was none could pretend to dispute it." Memoirs of the 
 Count de Rochfort, 1696, p. 210. See also Anquetil Louis XIV. sa 
 Cour el le Regent, tome i. p. 46. 
 
 NOTE 35, Page 104. 
 
 Exhausted themselves in festivals and rejoicings for ?iis return. 
 Bishop Burnet confirms this account. "With the restoration of the 
 king," says he, " a spirit of extravagant joy spread over the nation, that 
 brought on with it the throwing off the very professions of virtue and 
 piety. All ended in entertainments and drunkenness, which overrun 
 the three kingdoms to such a degree, that it very much corrupted all 
 their morals. Under the colour of drinking the king's health, there were 
 great disorders, and much riot every where : and the pretences of reli- 
 gion, both in those of the hypocritical sort, and of the more honest, but 
 no less pernicious enthusiasts, gave great advantages, as well as they 
 furnished much matter to the profane mockers of true piety." History 
 of his own Times, vol. i., p. 127, Svo edit. Voltaire says, King Charles 
 " was received at Dover by twenty thousand of his subjects, who fell upon 
 their knees before him ; and I have been told by some old men who were 
 of this number, that hardly any of those who were present could refrain 
 from tears." Age of Lewis XIV . chap. 5.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 3^3 
 
 NOTE 36, Page 105. 
 At his coronation. 
 
 There is some reason to believe that the Count de Grammont, whose 
 circumstances at his first arrival at the court of Britain were inferior to 
 his rank, endeavoured to distinguish himself by his literary acquirements. 
 A scarce little book, in Latin and French, upon the coronation, has been 
 ascribed to him with some probability. The initials subscribed in dif- 
 ferent places of the work are P. D. C., which may correspond to Philibert 
 de Cramont, in which manner the family name was often spelled ; and 
 the dedication seems to apply accurately to the count's circumstances. 
 The full title runs : 
 
 " Complementum Fortunatarum Insularum, sive Galathea Vaticinans ; 
 being part of an epithalamium upon the auspicious match of the most 
 puissant and most serene Charles II., and the most illustrious Catharina, 
 Infanta of Portugal; with a description of the Fortunate Islands. "Written 
 originally in French, by P. D. C., Gent.,* and since translated by him into 
 Latin and English. With the translations also of the Description of S. 
 James's Park, and the late Fight at S. Lucar, by Mr. Edmund Waller ; 
 the Panegyric of Charles the Second, by Mr. Dry den ; and other pieces 
 relating to the present times. London, printed by W. G., 1662." 
 
 It is dedicated to James Boteler, Earl of Ossory, Viscount Thorle, 
 afterwards Duke of Ormond, previous to his going to Ireland, f which 
 dedication concludes thus: "The utmost height of my ambition, and 
 the utmost scope of my desseine at present, my lord, is only, since I have 
 no other means left me to provide for my attendance upen your lordship 
 and the heads of your honourable family, in this your journey, that you 
 will be pleased to accept of me, in this slender garbe, being every way 
 otherwise disappointed by the frowns of fortune, and so unfit to pretend 
 admittance in so splendid a train ; unless it be 
 
 Nelle scorta di Febo, che a vos s'inchina, 
 Tutta ridente, tutta di scherzi piena. 
 
 But, my lord, my own words on another occasion : 
 
 Se quelque jour, la Fortune 
 
 Met en plus grande liberte 
 
 Mon Genie persecute 
 
 l)es rigueurs de cette importune, 
 
 Peut-etre d'un Burin plus seur 
 
 Et d'un vers rempli de douceur 
 
 D'Ormond j'enterprendrai 1'image ; 
 Et dans les beaux exploits de tous ses descendans 
 La depeindray si bien que la plus fiere rage 
 Respectera ses traits jusqu'a la fin des temps. 
 
 * The state of his fortune at this period not allowing the splendour of a 
 French nobleman, he was only considered a private gentleman ; and this 
 l:o hints at in the dedication that follows. 
 
 f Philibert, Count Grammont married the Duke of Ormond's sister.
 
 334 NOTES AND 
 
 " This is the vow, this is the serious wish of him, my lord, who desires, 
 for no better end, to be once again restored to the state of his former for- 
 tune, than to become thereby more ready and capable to wait hereafter on 
 your lordship otherwise than by his pen, and so declare, by some more 
 real deed than poetical expressions, how unfeignedly he is, 
 
 My lord, 
 
 Your lordship's 
 Most true and most devoted servant, 
 
 P. D. C." 
 
 The contents of the book consist chiefly of poetry of a complimentary 
 nature. The following well-known lines of Waller's, on Westminster 
 Abbey, he has given with much taste : 
 
 " From hence he does that antique pile behold, 
 Where royal heads receive the sacred gold ; 
 It gives them crowns, and does their ashes keep ; 
 There made like gods, like mortals there they sleep." 
 
 " Passant plus outre il voit la chapelle ou nos rois 
 Resolvent 1'or sacre et leur gardant les loix, 
 La terre aussi sacree egalement leurs donne, 
 La droit de sepulture et la droit de couronne." 
 
 The contents of the volume are 
 
 A Song of the Sea Nymph Galatea, upon the marriage of Charles II. 
 and the Princess Infanta of Portugal (fifteen stanzas, of ten lines each.) 
 
 The same in Latin. 
 
 The same in French. 
 
 St. James's Park, by Waller, in English, French, and Latin. 
 
 Of the late War with Spain, 1657, and our Victory at St. Lucar, near 
 Cadiz, by the same, in English and French. 
 
 On his sacred Majesty's Coronation, by Dryden, English and French. 
 
 The Fortunate Islands, being part of a larger poem written formerly in 
 French, upon the happy inauguration of Charles II. By P. D. C. ; and 
 since by him translated in English and Latin. Dedicated to his dear friend 
 Edmund Waller, Esq., with a specimen of an English version. 
 
 Another dedication: " To Prince Rupert, as a monument of his de- 
 voted respects and due esteem of his highness's celebrated virtues and 
 great experience in sea-voyages ; and as a deserved acknowledgment of his 
 highness's indefatigable endeavours in promoting English plantations, 
 P. D. C. humbly dedicates this Pindaric Rapture ; being part of his poem 
 of the Fortunate Islands, formerly written in French, and addressed to 
 the king's majesty upon the solemnity of his auspicious coronation." 
 Twenty-five stanzas, of ten lines each. 
 
 The same in Latin. 
 
 The king's excursion on the Thames, July, anno 16G1 ; an extempore 
 ode, " To the great and illustrious William, Earl of Devonshire, the no- 
 ble and judicious Mecsenas of polite literature ; P. D. C. dedicates it in 
 obedient and grateful testimony," &c. 
 
 A short ode of about .sixty, lines. 
 
 If we are correct in imputing this work to Grammont, he roust have
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 335 
 
 been in England at the time of the coronation, which agrees tolerably with 
 the vague expression in the text that he arrived about two years after the 
 Restoration. For this ceremony did not take place until after the deaths 
 of the Duke of Gloucester and the Princess of Orange. It was celebrated 
 22nd and 23rd April, 1661, with uncommon magnificence; the whole 
 show, as Lord Clarendon observes, being the most glorious, in the order 
 and expense, that had ever been seen in England. The procession began 
 from the Tower, and continued so long, that they who rode first were in 
 Fleet-street when the king issued from the Tower. The whole ceremo- 
 nial took up two days. See Continuation of Clarendon, p. 29 ; Kennel's 
 Register, 411. 
 
 [Pepys' account of the Coronation given in his amusing Diary 
 is so characteristic and illustrative, that we think it deserves a place 
 here. 
 
 " April 22nd, 1661. The King's going from the Tower to White Hall. 
 Up early and made myself as fine as I could, and put on my velvet coat, the 
 first day that I put it on, though made half a year ago. And being ready, 
 Sir W. Batten, my Lady, and his two daughters and his son and wife, and 
 Sir W. Penn and his son and I, went to Mr, Young's, the flag-maker, in 
 Cornhill ; and there we had a good room to ourselves, with wine and 
 good cake, and saw the show very well. In which it is impossible to 
 relate the glory of this day, expressed in the clothes of them that rid, and 
 their horses and horses-clothes. Among others, my Lord Sandwich's 
 embroidery and diamonds were not ordinary among them. The Knights 
 of the Bath was a brave sight of itself; and their Esquires, among which 
 Mr. Armiger was an Esquire to one of the Knights. Remarkable were 
 the two men that represent the two Dukes of Normandy and Aquitaine. 
 The Bishops come next after Barons, which is the higher place ; which 
 makes me think that the next Parliament they will be called to the 
 House of Lords. My Lord Monk rode bare after the King, and led in 
 his hand a spare horse, as being Master of the Horse. The King, in a 
 most rich embroidered suit and cloak, looked most noble. Wadlow the 
 vintner, at the Devil, in Fleet-street, did lead a fine company of soldiers, 
 all young comely men, in white doublets. There followed the Vice- 
 Chamberlain, Sir G. Carteret, a company of men all like Turks ; but I 
 know not yet what they are for. The streets all gravelled, and the houses 
 hung with carpets before them, made brave show, and the ladies out of 
 the windows. So glorious was the show with gold and silver, that we 
 were not able to look at it, our eyes at last being so much overcome. 
 Both the King and the Duke of York took notice of us, as they saw us 
 at the window. In the evening, by water to White Hall to my Lord's, 
 and there I spoke with my Lord. He talked with me about his suit, 
 which was made in France, and cost him 200/., and very rich it is with 
 embroidery. 
 
 " CORONATION DAY. 
 
 " 23rd. About four I rose and got to the Abbey, where I followed Sir 
 J. Denham, the Surveyor, with some company that he was leading in. 
 And with much ado, by the favour of Mr. Cooper, his man. did get up
 
 33G NOTES AND 
 
 ; nto a great scaffold across the North end of the Abbey, where with a 
 great deal of patience I sat from past four till eleven before the King 
 came in. And a great pleasure it was to see the Abbey raised in the 
 middle, all covered with red, and a throne (that is a chair) and footstool 
 on the top of it ; and all the officers of all kinds, so much as the very 
 fiddlers, in red vests. At last comes in the Dean and Prebends of West- 
 minster, with the Bishops (many of them in cloth of gold copes), and 
 after them the Nobility, all in their Parliament robes, which was a most 
 magnificent sight. Then the Duke, and the King with a sceptre (carried 
 by my Lord Sandwich) and sword and wand before him, and the crown 
 too. The King in his robes, bare-headed, which was very fine. And 
 after all had placed themselves, there was a sermon and the service ; and 
 then in the choir at the high altar, the King passed through all the cere- 
 monies of the Coronation, which to my great grief I and most in the 
 Abbey could not see. The crown being put upon his head, a great 
 shout began, and he came forth to the throne, and there passed through 
 more ceremonies : as taking the oath, and having things read to him by 
 the Bishop : and his lords (who put on their caps as soon as the King 
 put on his crown) and bishops come, and kneeled before him. And 
 three times the King at Arms went to the three open places on the 
 scaffold, and proclaimed, that if any one could show any reason why 
 Charles Stewart should not be King of England, that now he should 
 come and speak. And a General Pardon also was read by the Lord 
 Chancellor, and medals flung up and down by my Lord Cornwallis, of 
 silver, but I could not come by any. But so great a noise that I could 
 make but little of the music ; and indeed, it was lost to every body. I 
 went out a little while before the King had done all his ceremonies, and 
 went round the Abbey to Westminster Hall, all the way within rails, 
 and 10,000 people with the ground covered with blue cloth; and scaffolds 
 all the way. Into the Hall I got, where it was very fine with hangings 
 and scaffolds one upon another full of brave ladies ; and my wife in one 
 little one, on the right hand. Here I staid walking up and down, and at 
 last upon one of the side stalls I stood and saw the King come in with 
 all the persons (but the soldiers) that were yesterday in the cavalcade ; 
 and a most pleasant sight it was to see them in their several robes. And 
 the King came in with his crown on, and his sceptre in his hand, under 
 a canopy borne up by six silver staves, carried by Barons of the Cinque 
 Ports, and little bells at every end. And after a long time, he got up to 
 the farther end, and all set themselves down at their several tables ; and 
 that was also a brave sight : and the King's fi r st course carried up by the 
 Knights of the Bath. And many fine ceremonies there was of the He- 
 ralds leading up people before him, and bowing ; and my Lord of Albe- 
 marle's going to the kitchen and eating a bit of the first dish that was to 
 go to the King's table. But, above all, was these three Lords, North- 
 umberland, and Suffolk, arid the Duke of Ormond, coming before the 
 courses on horseback, and staying so all dinner-time, and at last bringing 
 up (Uymock) the King's Champion, all in armour on horseback, with his 
 t-pear and target carried before him. And a Herald proclaims ' That 
 if any dare deny Charle? Stewart to be lawful King of England, liore w.is
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 337 
 
 a Champion that would fight with him ;' and with these words the 
 Champion flings down his gauntlet, and all this he do three times in his 
 going up towards the King's table. To which when he is come, the 
 King drinks to him, and then sends him the cup which is of gold, and he 
 drinks it off, and then rides back again with the cup in his hand. I went 
 from table to table to see the Bishops and all others at their dinner, and 
 was infinitely pleased with it. And at the Lords' table, I met with Wil- 
 liam Howe, and he spoke to my Lord for me, and he did give him four 
 rabbits and a pullet, and so Mr. Creed and I got Mr. Minshell to give 
 us some bread, and so we at a stall eat it, as every body else did what 
 they could get. I took a great deal of pleasure to go up and down, and 
 look upon the ladies, and to hear the music of all sorts, but above all, 
 the twenty-four violins. About six at night they had dined, and I went 
 up to my wife. And strange it is to think, that these two days have held 
 up fair till now that all is done, and the King gone out of the Hall ; and 
 then it fell a-raining and thundering and lightening as I have not seen it 
 do for some years : which people did take great notice of ; God's bless- 
 ing of the work of these two days, which is a foolery to take too much 
 notice of such things. I observed little disorder in all this, only the 
 King's footmen had got hold of the canopy, and would keep it from the 
 Barons of the Cinque Ports, which they endeavoured to force from them 
 again, but could not do it till my Lord Duke of Albemarle caused it to be 
 put into Sir R. Pye's hand till to-morrow to be decided. At Mr. Bow- 
 yer's ; a great deal of company, some I knew, others I did not. Here 
 we staid upon the leads and below till it was late, expecting to see the 
 fire-works, but they were not performed to-night : only the city had a 
 light like a glory round about it with bonfires. At last I went to King- 
 street, and there sent Crockford to my father's and my house, to tell 
 them I could not come home to-night, because of the dirt, and a coach 
 could not be had. And so I took my wife and Mrs. Frankleyn (whom I 
 proffered the civility of lying with my wife at Mrs. Hunt's to-night) to 
 Axe-yard, iu which at the further end there were three great bonfires, 
 and a great many great gallants, men and women ; and they laid hold of 
 us, and would have us drink the King's health upon our knees, kneeling 
 upon a faggot, which we all did, they drinking to us one after another. 
 Which we thought a strange frolic ; but these gallants continued there 
 a great while, and I wondered to see how the ladies did tipple. At last 
 I sent my wife and her bedfellow to bed, and Mr. Hunt and I went in 
 with Mr. Thornbury (who did give the company all their wine, he being 
 yeoman of the wine-cellar to the King) ; and there, with his wife and 
 two of his sisters, and some gallant sparks that were there, we drank the 
 King's health, and nothing else, till one of the gentlemen fell down stark 
 drunk, and there lay ; and I went to my Lord's pretty well Thus did 
 the day end with joy every where : and blessed be God, I have not 
 heard of any mischance to any body through it all, but only to Serjeant 
 Glynne, whose horse fell upon him yesterday, and is like to kill him, 
 which people do please themselves to see how just God is to punish the 
 rogue at such a time as this : he being now one of the King's Serjeants, 
 and rode in the cavalcade with Maynard, to whom people wish the
 
 333 NOTES AND 
 
 same fortune. There was also this night in King-street, a woman 
 had her eye put out by a hoy's flinging a firebrand into the coach. Now, 
 after all this, I can say, that, besides the pleasure of the sight of these 
 glorious things, I may now shut my eyes against any other objects, nor 
 for the future trouble myself to see things of state and show, as being 
 sure never to see the like again in this world. 
 
 " 24th. At night, set myself to write down these three days' diary, 
 and while I am about it, I hear the noise of the chambers, and other 
 things of the fire-works, which are now playing upon the Thames 
 before the King ; and I wish myself with them, being sorry not to see 
 them. 
 
 " 30th. This morning my wife and I and Mr. Creed, took coach, 
 and in Fish-street took up Mr. Hater and his wife, who through her 
 mask seemed at first to be an old woman, but afterwards I found her to 
 be a very pretty modest black woman. We got a small bait at Leather- 
 head, and so to Godlyman, where we lay all night. I am sorry that I 
 am not at L'ondon, to be at Hyde-park to-morrow, among the great gal- 
 lants and ladies, which will be very fine."] 
 
 NOTE 37, Page 105. 
 The deafh of the Duke of Gloucester. 
 
 This event took place September 3rd, 1660. He died of the small- 
 pox. [Pepyssays, " by the great negligence of his doctors."] " Though 
 mankind," as Mr. Macpherson observes, " are apt to exaggerate the 
 virtues of princes who happen to die in early youth, their praises 
 seem to have done no more than justice to the character of Glou- 
 cester. He joined in himself the best qualities of both his brothers ; 
 the understanding and good-nature of Charles, to the industry and appli- 
 cation of James. The facility of the first was in him, a judicious mode- 
 ration. The obstinacy of the latter was, in Gloucester, a manly firmness 
 of mind. Attached to the religion, and a friend to the constitution of his 
 country, he was most regretted, when his family regarded these the least. 
 The vulgar, who crowd with eminent virtues and great actions the years 
 which fate denies to their favourites, foresaw future misfortunes in his 
 death ; and even the judicious supposed that the measures of Charles 
 might have derived solidity from his judgment and promising parts. The 
 king lamented his death with all the vehemence of an affectionate sorrow." 
 The Duke of York was much affected with the loss of a brother, whose 
 high merit he much admired. " He was a prince," says James, " of the 
 greatest hopes, undaunted courage, admirable parts, and a clear under- 
 standing." He had a particular talent of languages. Besides the Latin, 
 he was master of the French, the Spanish, the Italian, and Low Dutch. 
 He was, in short, possessed of all the natural qualities, as well as ac- 
 quired accomplishments, necessary to make a great prince. Macpher- 
 son' t History of Great Britain, ch. 1. Bishop Burnet's character of this 
 young prince is also very favourable. See Burnet's Own Times, 
 vol. i. p. 238.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS, 339 
 
 NOTE 38, Page 105. 
 
 Princess Royal. 
 
 Mary, eldest daughter of Charles I., born November 4th, 1631, mar- 
 ried to the Prince of Orange 2nd May, 1641, who died 27th October, 1650. 
 She arrived in England September 23rd. [Pepys says, in his Diary, 
 March 17th, 1660, " In a coach we went to see a house of the Princess 
 Dowager's, in a park about a mile from the Hague, where there is one of 
 the most beautiful rooms for pictures in the whole world. She had here 
 one picture upon the top, with these words, dedicating it to the memory 
 of her husband : ' Incomparabili inarito, inconsolabilis vidua.' "] She 
 died of the small-pox December 24th, 1660, according to Bishop Burnet, 
 " not much lamented. She had lived," says the author, " in her widow- 
 hood for some years with great rt putation, kept a decent court, and sup- 
 ported her brothers very liberally ; and lived within bounds. But her 
 mother, who had the art of making herself believe any thing she had a 
 mind to, upon a conversation with the queen-mother of France, fancied 
 the King of France might be inclined to marry her. So she writ to her 
 to come to Paris. In order to that, she made an equipage far above what 
 she could support. So she ran herself into debt, sold all her jewels, and 
 some estates that were in her power as her son's guardian ; and was not 
 only disappointed of that vain expectation, but fell into some misfortunes 
 that lessened the reputation she had formerly lived in." Burnet's 
 Own Times, vol. i. p. 238. She was mother of William III. 
 
 NOTE 39, Page 105. 
 The reception of the Infanta of Portugal. 
 
 "The Infanta of Portugal landed in May (16G2) at Portsmouth. 
 [Pepys, in his Diary, May 15th, 1662, says, " At night, all the bells in 
 the town rung, and bonfires made for the joy of the Queen's arrival, 
 who landed at Portsmouth last night. But I do not see much true joy, 
 but only an indifferent one, in the hearts of people, who are much discon- 
 tented at the pride and luxury of the Court, and running in debt."] The 
 king went thither, and was married privately by Lord Aubigny, a secular 
 priest, and almoner to the queen, according to the rites of Rome, in the 
 queen's chamber ; none present but the Portuguese ambassador, three 
 more Portuguese of quality, and two or three Portuguese women. What 
 made this necessary was, that the Earl of Sandwich did not marry her by 
 proxy, as usual, before she came away. How this happened, the duke 
 knows not, nor did the chancellor know of this private marriage. The 
 queen would not be bedded, till pronounced man and wife by Sheldon, 
 bishop of London." Extract 2, from King James II. 's Journal. Mac- 
 pherson's Stale Papers, vol. i. In the same collection is a curious letter 
 from the King to Lord Clarendon, giving his opinion of the queen after 
 having seen her. 
 
 NOTE 40, Page 105. 
 The King teas inferior to none. 
 
 Charles II. was born 29th May, 1630, and died 6th February, 1684-5. 
 His character is very amply detailed, and accurately depicted by George
 
 340 NOTES AND 
 
 Saville, Marquis of Halifax, in a volume published by his grand-daughter 
 the Countess of Burlington, 8vo. 1750. See also Burnet, Clarendon, and 
 Sheffield Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 NOTE 41, Page 105. 
 TJie Duke of York. 
 
 James Duke of York, afterwards King James II. He was born loth 
 October, 1633; succeeded his brother 6th February, 1684-5 ; abdicated 
 the crown in 1688; and died 6th September, 1701. Bishop Burnet's 
 character of him appears not very far from the truth. " He was," says 
 this writer, " very brave in his youth ; and so much magnified by Monsieur 
 Turenne, that till his marriage lessened him, he really clouded the king, and 
 passed for the superior genius. He was naturally candid and sincere, and 
 a firm friend, till affairs and his religion wore out all his first principles 
 and inclinations. He had a great desire to understand affairs : and in or- 
 der to that he kept a constant journal of all that passed, of which he shewed 
 me a great deal. The Duke of Buckingham gave me once a short but se- 
 vere character of the two brothers. It was the more severe, because it was 
 true : the king, (he said,) could see things if he would : and the duke 
 would see things if he could. He had no true judgment, and was soon 
 determined by those whom he trusted : but he was obstinate against all 
 other advices. He was bred with high notions of kingly authority, and 
 laid it down for a maxim, that all who opposed the king, were rebels in 
 their hearts. He was perpetually in one amour or other, without being 
 very nice in his choice : upon which the king once said, he believed his 
 brother had his mistresses given him by his priests for penance. He was 
 naturally eager and revengeful : and was against the taking off any, that 
 set up in an opposition to the measures of the court, and who by that 
 means grew popular in the house of commons. He was for rougher me- 
 thods. He continued many years dissembling his religion, and seemed 
 zealous for the church of England. But it was chiefly on design to hinder 
 all propositions, that tended to unite us among ourselves. He was a fru- 
 gal prince, and brought his court into method and magnificence, for he had 
 100, OOO/. a-year allowed him. He was made high admiral, and he came 
 to understand all the concerns of the sea very particularly." 
 
 NOTE 42, Page 106. 
 
 Miss Hyde. 
 
 Miss Anne Hyde, eldest daughter of Lord Chancellor Clarendon. Kin^ 
 James mentions this marriage in these terms. " The king at first refused 
 the Duke of York's marriage with Miss Hyde. Many of the duke's friends 
 and servants opposed it. The king at last consented, and the Duke of 
 York privately married her, and soon after owned the marriage. Her want 
 of birth was made up by endowments ; and her carriage afterwards became 
 her acquired dignity." Again. "When his sister, the princess royal, 
 came to Paris to see the queen-mother, the Duke of York fell in love with 
 Mrs. Anne Hyde, one of her maids of honour. Besides her person, she 
 had all the qualities proper to inflame a heart less apt to take fire than his,
 
 ILL US I RATIONS. 341 
 
 which she managed so well as to bring his passion to such an height, that, 
 between the time he first saw her and the winter before the king's restora- 
 tion, he resolved to marry none but her ; and promised her to do it : and 
 though, at first, when the duke asked the king his brother for his leave, he 
 refused, and dissuaded him from it, yet at last he opposed it no more, and 
 the duke married her privately, owned it some time after, and was ever 
 after a true friend to the chancellor for several years." Macpherson' s 
 State Papers, vol. i. 
 
 [Pepys, in his Diary, October 7th, 1660, says : "To my lord's, and 
 dined with him ; he all dinner time talking French to me, and telling me 
 the story how the Duke of York hath got my Lord Chancellor's daughter 
 with child, and that she do lay it to him, and that for certain he did 
 promise her marriage, and had signed it with his blood, but that he by 
 stealth had got the paper out of her cabinet. And that the king would 
 have him to marry her, but that he will not. So that the thing is very 
 bad for the duke, and them all ; but my lord do make light of it, as a 
 thing that he believes is not a new thing for the duke to do abroad." 
 Again, Feb. 23rd, 1660-1." Mr. Hartlett told me how my Lord Chan- 
 cellor had lately got the Duke of York and Duchesse, and her woman, 
 my Lord Ossory, and a doctor, to make oath before most of the judges 
 of the kingdom, concerning all the circumstances of the marriage. And 
 in fine, it is confessed that they were not fully married till about a month 
 or two before she was brought to bed ; but that they were contracted long 
 before, and time enough for the child to be legitimate. But I do not hear 
 that it was put to the judges to determine whether it was so or no."] 
 
 NOTE 43, Page 106. 
 
 Her father. 
 
 Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, " for his comprehensive knowledge 
 of mankind, styled the chancellor of human nature. His character, at 
 this distance of time, may, and ought to be impartially considered. His 
 designing or blinded contemporaries heaped the most unjust abuse upon 
 him. The subsequent age, when the partizans of prerogative were at least 
 the loudest, if not the most numerous, smit with a work that deified their 
 martyr, have been unbounded in their encomium." Catalogue of Noble 
 Authors, vol. ii. p. 18. Lord Orford, who professes to steer a middle 
 course, and separate his great virtues as a man from his faults as an his- 
 torian, acknowledges that he possessed almost every virtue of a minister 
 which could make his character venerable. He died in exile, in the year 
 1674. 
 
 NOTE 44, Page 106. 
 The Duke of Ormond. 
 
 James Butler, Duke of Ormond, born 19th October, 1610, and died 
 21st July, 1688. Lord Clarendon, in the Continuation of his Life, ob- 
 serves, that " he frankly engaged his person and his fortune in tha king's 
 service, from the first hour of the troubles, and pursued it with that cou- 
 rage and constancy, that when the king was murdered, and he deserted by 
 the Irish, contrary to the articles of pear" hich they had made with him,
 
 342 NOTES AND 
 
 and when lie could make no longer defence, lie refused all the conditions 
 which Cromwell offered, who would have given him all his vast estate if 
 he would have been contented to live quietly in some of his own houses, 
 without further concerning himself in the quarrel ; and transported him- 
 self, without so much as accepting a pass from his authority, in a little 
 weak vessel into France, where he found the king, from whom he never 
 parted till he returned with him into England. Having thus merited as 
 much as a subject can do from a prince, he had much more credit and es- 
 teem with the king than any other man." Continuation of the Life <if 
 Lord Clarendon, p. 4, fol. edit. Bishop Burnet says of him, " he was 
 a man every way fitted for a court ; of a graceful appearance, a lively wit, 
 and a cheerful temper ; a man of great expense ; decent even in his vices. 
 for he always kept up the form of religion. He had gone through many 
 transactions in Ireland with more fidelity than success. He had made a 
 treaty with the Irish, which was broken by the great body of them, though 
 some few of them adhered still to him. But the whole Irish nation did 
 still pretend, that though they had broke the agreement first, yet he, or 
 rather the king, in whose name he had treated with them, was bound to 
 perform all the articles of the treaty. He had miscarried so in the siege 
 of Dublin, that it very much lessened the opinion of his military conduct. 
 Yet his constant attendance on liis master, his easiness to him, and his 
 great suffering for him, raised him to be lord-steward of the household, 
 and lord -lieutenant of Ireland. He was firm to the protestant religion, 
 and so far firm to the laws, that he always gave good advices ; but when 
 bad ones were followed, he was not for complaining too much of them." 
 Burnet's Own Times, vol. i. p. 230. 
 
 NOTE 45, Page 106. 
 The Earl of St. Allan's. 
 
 Henry Jermyn, Earl of St. Alban's, and Baron of St. Edmund's Bury. 
 He was master of the horse to Queen Henrietta, and one of the privy- 
 council to Charles II. In July 16(50, he was sent ambassador to the court 
 of France, and, in 1671, he was made lord-chamberlain of his majesty's 
 household. He died January 2, 1683. Sir John Beresby asserts, that 
 Lord St. Alban's was married to Queen Henrietta. " The abbess of an 
 English college in Paris, whither the queen used to retire, would tell me," 
 says Sir John, "that Lord Jermyn, since St. Alban's, had the queen 
 greatly in awe of him ; and indeed it was obvious that he had great inter- 
 est with her concerns ; but he was married to her, or had children by her, 
 as some have reported, I did not then believe, though the thing was cer- 
 tainly so." Memoirs, p. 4. [Pepys says, in his Diary, Dec. 21st, 1660: 
 " I hear that the Princess Royal hath married herself to young Jermyn, 
 which is worse than the Duke of York's marrying the Chancellor's daugh- 
 ter, which is now publicly owned."] Madame Baviere, in her letters, says, 
 " Charles the First's widow made a clandestine marriage with her cheva- 
 lier d'honneur, Lord St. Alban's, who treated her extremely ill. so that, 
 whilst she had not a faggot to warm herself, he had in his apartment a 
 good fire and a sumptuous table. He never gave the queen a kind word
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 343 
 
 ;uid when she spoke to him he used to say, Que me veut cettefemme? " 
 Hamilton hints at his selfishness a little lower. 
 
 NOTE 46, Page 106. 
 Dissipated without splendour an immense estate, upon which he had just 
 
 entered. 
 
 " The Duke of Buckingham is again one hundred and forty thousand 
 pounds in debt ; and by this prorogation his creditors have time to tear 
 all his lands to pieces." Andrew Marvell's Works, 4to. edit., vol. i. p. 
 406. 
 
 NOTE 47, Page 106. 
 Sir George Berkeley. 
 
 This Sir George Berkeley, as he is here improperly called, was Charles 
 Berkley, second son of Sir - Berkley, of Bruton, in Gloucestershire, 
 and was the principal favourite and c mpanion of the Duke of York in 
 all his campaigns. He was created Baron Berkley of Rathdown, and 
 Viscount Fitzharding of Ireland, and Baron Bottetort and Earl of Fal- 
 mouth in England, 17th March, 1664. He had the address to secure 
 himself in the affections equally of the king and his brother at the same 
 time. Lord Clarendon, who seems to have conceived, and with reason, a 
 prejudice against him, calls him " a fellow of great wickedness," and says, 
 " he was one in whom few other men (except the king) had ever observed 
 any virtue or quality, which they did not wish their best friends without. 
 He was young, and of an insatiable ambition ; and a little more experience 
 might have taught him all things which his weak parts were capable of." 
 Clarendon's Life, pp. 34, 267. Bishop Burnet, however, is rather 
 more favourable. " Berkley," says he, " was generous in his expence ; 
 and it was thought if he had outlived the lewdness of that time, and come 
 to a more sedate course of life, he would have put the king on great and 
 noble designs." History, vol. i. p. 137. He lost his life in the action 
 at Southwold Bay, the 2nd June, 1665, by a shot, which, at the same 
 time, killed Lord Muskerry and Mr. Boyle, as they were standing on the 
 quarter-deck, near the Duke of York, who was covered with their blood. 
 " Lord Falmouth," as King James observes, " died not worth a farthing, 
 though not expensive." Macpherson's State Papers, vol. i. " He was, 
 however, lamented by the king with floods of tears, to the amazement of 
 all who had seen how unshaken he stood on other assaults of fortune." 
 Clarendon's Life, p. 269. Even his death did not save him from Mar- 
 veil's satire. 
 
 Falmouth was there, I know not what to act, 
 Some say, 'twas to grow duke too by contract ; 
 An untaught bullet, in his wanton scope, 
 Dashes him all to pieces, and his hope : 
 Such was his rise, such was his fall unpraised, 
 A chance shot sooner took him than chance raised ; 
 His shattered head the fearless duke disdains, 
 And gave the last first proof that he had brains. 
 
 Advice to a Painter, p. 1.
 
 344 NOT::S AND 
 
 NOTE 48, Page 107. 
 The Earl of Arran. 
 
 Richard Butler, Earl of Arran, fifth son of James Butler, the first Duke 
 of Ormond. He was born 15th July, 1639, and educated with great 
 care, being taught every thing suitable to his birth, and the great affection 
 his parents had for him. As he grew up, he distinguished himself by a 
 brave and excellent disposition, which determined him to a military life. 
 When the duke, his father, was first made lord-lieutenant of Ireland, after 
 the Restoration, his majesty was pleased, by his letter, dated April 23, 
 1662, to create Lord Richard, Baron Butler of Cloghgrenan, Viscount 
 Tullogh, in the county of Catherlough, and Earl of Arran, with remainder 
 to his brother. In September, 1664, he married Lady Mary Stuart, only 
 surviving daughter of James Duke of Richmond and Lennox, by Mary, 
 the only daughter of the great Duke of Buckingham, who died in July, 
 1667, at the age of eighteen, and was interred at Kilkenny. He distin- 
 guished himself in reducing the mutineers at Carrick-Fergus, and behaved 
 with great courage in the famous sea-fight with the Dutch, in 1673. In 
 August that year, he was created Baron Butler of Weston, in the county 
 of Huntingdon. He married, in the preceding June, Dorothy, daughter 
 of John Ferrars, of Tamworth Castle, in Warwickshire, Esq. In 1682, 
 he was constituted lord-deputy of Ireland, upon his father's going over to 
 England, and held that office until August, 1684, when the duke returned. 
 In the year 1686, he died at London, and was interred in Westminster- 
 abbey, leaving an only daughter, Charlotte, who was married to Charles 
 Lord Cornwallis. 
 
 NOTE 49, Page 107. 
 The Earl of Qssory. 
 
 Thomas Earl of Ossory, eldest son of the first, and father of the last 
 Duke of Ormond, was born at Kilkenny, 8th July, 1634. At the age of 
 twenty-one years he had so much distinguished himself, that Sir Robert 
 Southwell then drew the following character of him : " He is a young 
 man with a very handsome face ; a good head of hair ; well set ; very good- 
 natured ; rides the great horse very well ; is a very good tennis-player, 
 fencer, and dancer ; understands music, and plays on the guitar and lute ; 
 speaks French elegantly ; reads Italian fluently ; is a good historian ; and 
 so well versed in romances, that if a gallery be full of pictures and 
 hangings, he will tell the stories of all that are there described. He 
 shuts up his door at eight o'clock in the evening, and studies till mid- 
 night : he is temperate, courteous, and excellent in all his behaviour." 
 
 [Evelyn, who became acquainted with the Earl of Ossory at Paris 
 in 1649-50, records the following amusing anecdote in his diary : 
 "May 7th, 1650. I went with Sir Richard Browne's lady and my wife, 
 together with the Earl of Chesterfield, Lord Ossory, and his brother, to 
 Vamber, a place near the City famous for butter ; when coming home- 
 wards, being on foot, a quarrel arose between Lord Ossory and a man 
 in a garden, who thrust Lord Ossory from the gate with uncivil language, 
 on which our young gallants struck the fellow on the pate, and bid him
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 345 
 
 ask pardon, which he did with much submission, and so we parted ; but 
 we were not gone far before we heard a noise behind us, and saw people 
 coming with guns, swords, staves, and forks, and who followed flinging 
 stones ; on which we turned and were forced to engage, and with our 
 s-.vords, stones, and the help of our servants (one of whom had a pistol), 
 made our retreat for near a quarter of a mile, when we took shelter in 
 a house, where we were besieged, and at length forced to submit to be 
 prisoners. Lord Hatton with some others were taken prisoners in the 
 flight, and his lordship was confined under three locks, and as many 
 doors, in this rude fellow's master's house, who pretended to be steward 
 to Monsieur St. Germain, one of the Presidents of the Grand Chambre 
 du Parlement, and a Canon of Notre Dame. Several of us were much 
 hurt. One of our lacquies escaping to Paris, caused the bailiff of St. 
 Germain to come with his guard and rescue us. Immediately afterwards 
 came Monsieur St. Germain himself in great wrath on hearing that his 
 housekeeper was assaulted ; but when he saw the king's officers, the 
 gentlemen and noblemen, with his Majesty's Resident, and understood 
 the occasion, he was ashamed of the accident, requesting the fellow's 
 pardon, and desiring the ladies to accept their submission and a supper 
 at his house." 
 
 And again, May 12th. " I have often heard that gallant gentleman, 
 my Lord Ossory, affirm solemnly that in all the conflicts he ever was in, 
 at sea or on land (in the most desperate of which he had often been), he 
 believed he was never in so much danger as when these people rose 
 against us. He used to call it the battaile de Vambre, and remember it 
 with a great deal of mirth as an adventure en cavalier."~\ 
 
 His death was occasioned by a fever, 30th July, 1680, to the grief of 
 his family and the public. 
 
 NOTE 50, Page 107. 
 The elder of the Hamilton*. 
 
 Lord Orford, in a note on this passage, mentions George Hamilton, 
 and Anthony Hamilton, the author of this present work, as the persons 
 here intended to be pointed out ; and towards the conclusion of the volume 
 has attempted to disentangle the confusion occasioned by the want of par- 
 ticularly distinguishing to which of the gentlemen the several adventures 
 belong in which their name occurs. The elder Hamilton, however, here 
 described, was, I conceive, neither George nor Anthony, but James Ha- 
 milton, their brother, eldest son of Sir George Hamilton, fourth son of the 
 Earl of Abercorn, by Mary Butler, third sister to James, the first duke of 
 Ormond. This gentleman was a great favourite with King Charles II., 
 who made him a groom of his bed-chamber, and colonel of a regiment. 
 In an engagement with the Dutch, he had one of his legs taken off by a 
 cannon-ball, of which wound he died 6th June, 1673, soon after he was 
 brought home, and was buried in Westminster-abbey. George Hamilton 
 was afterwards knighted, made a count in France, and mareschal-du- 
 camp in that service. He married Miss Jennings, hereafter mentioned, 
 and died, according to Lodge, in 1667, leaving issue by her, three 
 daughters.
 
 346 NOTES AND 
 
 NOTE 51, Page 107 
 The beau Sydney. 
 
 Robert Sydney, the third son of the Earl of Leicester, and brother of 
 the famous Algernon Sydney, who was beheaded. This is Lord Orford's 
 account ; though, no less authority, I should have been inclined to have 
 considered Henry Sydney, his younger brother, who was afterwards 
 created Earl of Rumney, and died 8th April, 1704, as the person in- 
 tended. There are some circumstances which seem particularly to point 
 to him. Burnet, speaking of him, says, " he was a graceful man, and 
 had lived long in the court, where he had some adventures that became 
 very public. He was a man of a sweet and caressing temper, had no 
 malice in his heart, but too great a love of pleasure. He had been sent 
 envoy to Holland in the year 1679, where he entered into such particu- 
 lar confidences with the prince, that he had the highest measure of his 
 trust and favour that any Englishman ever had." Burnet' s Own 
 Times, vol. ii. p. 494. 
 
 In the Essay on Satire, by Dryden and Mulgrave, he is spoken of in 
 no very decent terms. 
 
 ' And little Sid, for simile renown'd. 
 
 Pleasure has always sought, but never found : 
 
 Though all his thoughts on wine and women fall, 
 
 His are so bad, sure he ne'er thinks at all. 
 
 The flesh he lives upon is rank and strong ; 
 
 His meat and mistresses are kept too long. 
 
 But sure we all mistake this pious man, 
 
 Who mortifies his person all he can : 
 
 What we uncharitably take for sin, 
 
 Are only rules of this odd capuchin ; 
 
 For never hermit, under grave pretence, 
 
 Has lived more contrary to common sense." 
 
 These verses, however, have been applied to Sir Charles Sedley, whose 
 name was originally spelled Sidley. Robert Sydney died at Penshurst, 
 1674. 
 
 NOTE 52, Page 108. 
 
 The queen-doivager, his mistress, lived not over well in France. 
 To what a miserable state the queen was reduced may be seen in the 
 following extract from De Retz. " Four or five days before the king 
 removed from Paris, I went to visit the Queen of England, whom I found 
 in her daughter's chamber, who hath been since Duchess of Orleans. At 
 my coming in she said, ' You see I am come to keep Henrietta company. 
 The poor child could not rise to-day for want of a fire.' The truth is, 
 that the cardinal for six months together had not ordered her any money 
 towards her pension ; that no trades-people would trust her for any thing; 
 and that there was not at her lodgings in the Louvre one single billet. 
 You will do me the justice to suppose, that the Princess of England did 
 not keep her bed the next day for want of a faggot ; but it was not this 
 which the Princess of Conde meant in her letter. What she spoke about
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 347 
 
 was, that some days after my visiting the Queen of England, I remem- 
 bered the condition I had found her in, and had strongly represented the 
 shame of abandoning her in that manner, which caused the parliament to 
 send 40,000 livres to her majesty. Posterity will hardly believe that a 
 Princess of England, grand-daughter of Henry the Great, had wanted a 
 faggot, in the month of January, to get out of bed in the Louvre, and in 
 the eyes of a French court. We read in histories, with horror, of base- 
 ness less monstrous than this ; and the little concern I have met with 
 about it in most people's minds, has obliged me to make, I believe, a 
 thousand times, this reflection, that examples of times past move men 
 beyond comparison more than those of their own times. \Ve accustom 
 ourselves to what we see ; and I have sometimes told you, that I doubted 
 whether Caligula's horse being made a consul would have surprised us so 
 much as we imagine." Memoirs, vol. i. p. 261. As for the relative 
 situation of the king and Lord Jermyn (afterwards St. Alban's), Lord 
 Clarendon says, that the " Marquis of Ormond was compelled to put 
 himself in prison, with other gentlemen, at a pistole a-week for his diet, 
 and to walk the streets a-foot, which was no honourable custom in Paris, 
 whilst the Lord Jermyn kept an excellent table for those who courted 
 him, and had a coach of his own, and all other accommodations incident 
 to the most full fortune : and if the king had the most urgent occasion 
 for the use but of twenty pistoles, as sometimes he had, he could not find 
 credit to borrow it, which he often had experiment of." History of the 
 Rebellion, vol. iii. p. 2. 
 
 NOTE 53, Page 108. 
 
 Jermyn. 
 
 Henry Jermyn, younger son of Thomas, elder brother of the Earl of 
 St. Alban's. He was created Baron Dover in 1685, and died without 
 children, at Cheveley, in Cambridgeshire, April 6, 1708. His corpse 
 was carried to Bruges, in Flr.nders, and buried in the monastery of the 
 Carmelites there. St. Evremont, who visited Mr. Jermyn at Cheveley, 
 says, "we went thither, and were very kindly received by a person, who, 
 though he has taken his leave of the court, has carried the civility and 
 good taste of it into the country." St. Etremont's Works, vol. ii. 
 p. 223. 
 
 NOTE 54, Page 108. 
 
 The princess-royal was the first who was taken with Mm. 
 It was suspected of this princess to have had a similar engagement 
 with the Duke of Buckingham as the queen with Jermyn, and that was 
 the cause she would not see the duke on his second voyage to Holland, in 
 the year 1652. 
 
 NOTE 55, Page 108. 
 The Countess of Castlemaine. 
 
 This lady who made so distinguished a figure in the annals of infamy, 
 was Barbara, daughter and heir of \Villinm Villiers, Lord Viscount Gran- 
 dison, of the kingdom of Ireland, who died in 1642, in consequence of 
 wounds received at the battle of Edge-hill. She was married, just before
 
 348 NOTES AND 
 
 the Restoration, to Roger Palmer, Esq., then a student in the Temple, 
 and heir to a considerable fortune. In the 13th year of King Charles II. 
 he was created Earl of Castlemaine in the kingdom of Ireland. She had 
 a daughter, born in February 1661, while she cohabited with her hus- 
 band ; but shortly after she became the avowed mistress of the king, who 
 continued his connection with her until about the year 1672, when she 
 was delivered of a daughter, which was supposed to be Mr. Churchill's, 
 afterwards Duke of Marlborough, and which the king disavowed. Her 
 gallantries were by no means confined to one or two, nor were they un- 
 known to his majesty. In the year 1670, she was created Baroness of 
 Nonsuch, in Surrey, Countess of Southampton, and Duchess of Cleve- 
 land, during her natural life, with remainder to Charles and George Fitz- 
 roy, her eldest and third sou, and their heirs male. In July 1705, her 
 husband died, and she soon after married a man of desperate fortune, 
 known by the name of Handsome Fielding, who behaving in a manner 
 unjustifiably severe towards her, she was obliged to have recourse to law 
 for her protection. Fortunately it was discovered that Fielding had 
 already a wife living, by which means the duchess was enabled to free her- 
 self from his authority. She lived about two years afterwards, and died 
 of a dropsy, on the 9th of October, 1709, in her 69th year. Bishop Bur- 
 net says, " she was a woman of great beauty, but most enormously 
 vicious and ravenous ; foolish, but imperious ; very uneasy to the king, 
 and always carrying on intrigues with other men, while yet she pretended 
 she was jealous of him. His passion for her, and her strange behaviour 
 towards him, did so disorder him, that often he was not master of himself, 
 nor capable of minding business, which, in so critical a time, required 
 great application." Burnet's Own Times, vol. i. p. 129. 
 
 [The following amusing morceaux, extracted from Pepys, are highly 
 illustrative : " May 21st, 1662. My wife and I to my lord's lodging ; 
 where she and I stayed walking in White Hall garden. And in the Privy 
 garden saw the finest smocks and linen petticoats of my Lady Castle- 
 maine's, with rich lace at the bottom, that ever I saw ; and did me good 
 to look at them. Sarah told me how the king dined at my Lady Castle- 
 maine's, and supped every day and night the last week ; and that the 
 night the bonfires were made for joy of the queen's arrival, the king 
 was there ; but there was no fire at her door, though at all the rest of the 
 doors almost in the street ; which was much observed : and that the 
 king and she did send for a pair of scales and weighed one another ; and 
 she, being with child, was said to be heaviest. But she is now a most 
 disconsolate creature, and conces not out of doors, since the king's 
 going." 
 
 "July 22nd, 1663. In discourse of the ladies at court, Capt. Ferrers 
 tells me that my Lady Castlemaine is now as great again as ever she was ; 
 and that her going away was only a fit of her own upon some slighting 
 words of the king, so that she called for her coach at a quarter of an 
 hour's warning, and went to Richmond ; and the king, the next morning, 
 under pretence of going a hunting, went to see her and make friends, 
 and never was a hunting at all. After which she came back to court, and 
 commands the king as much as ever, and hath and doth what she will. 
 No longer ago than last night, there was a private entertainment made
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 349 
 
 for the king and queen at the Duke of Buckingham's, and she was not 
 invited : but being at my Lady Suffolk's, her aunt's (where my Lady 
 Jemimah and Lord Sandwich dined), yesterday, she was heard to say, 
 " Well, much good may it do them, and for all that I will be as merry 
 as they :" and so she went home and caused a great supper to be pre- 
 pared. And after the king had been with the queen at Wallingford 
 House, he come to my Lady Castlemaine's, and was there all night, and 
 my Lord Sandwich with him. He tells Hie he believes that, as soon as 
 the king can get a husband for Mrs. Stewart, however, my Lady Castle- 
 maine's nose will be out of joint ; for that she comes to be in great 
 esteem, and is more handsome than she/' 
 
 " June 10th, 1666. The queen, in ordinary talk before the ladies 
 in her drawing-room, did say to my Lady Castlemaine that she feared the 
 king did take cold, by staying so late abroad at her house. She answered 
 before them all, that he did not stay so late abroad with her, for he went 
 betimes thence (though he do not before one, two, or three in the 
 morning), but must stay somewhere else. The king then coming in and 
 overhearing, did whisper in her ear aside, and told her she was a bold 
 impertinent woman, and bid her to be gone out of the court, and not 
 come again till he sent for her ; which she did presently, and went to a 
 lodging in the Pall Mall, and kept there two or three days, and then sent 
 to the king to know whether she might send for her things away out of 
 her house. The king sent to her, she must first come and view them : 
 and so she come, and the king went to her, and all friends again. He 
 tells me she did, in her anger, say she would be even with the king, and 
 print his letters to her." 
 
 " Aug. 7th, 1667. Though the king and my Lady Castlemaine are 
 friends again, she is not at White Hall, but at Sir D. Harvey's, whither 
 the king goes to her ; and he says she will make him ask her forgiveness 
 upon his knees, and promise to offend her no more so : and that, indeed, 
 she did threaten to bring all his bastards to his closet-door, and hath 
 nearly hectored him out of his wits."] 
 
 NOTE 56, Page 109. 
 
 Lady Shrewsbury. 
 
 Anna Maria, Countess of Shrewsbury, eldest daughter of Robert Bru- 
 denel, Earl of Cardigan, and wife of Francis, Earl of Shrewsbury, who 
 was killed in a duel, by George, Duke of Buckingham, March 16, 1667. 
 She afterwards re-married with George Rodney Bridges, Esq., second son 
 of Sir Thomas Bridges of Keynsham, in Somersetshire, knight, and died 
 April 20, 1702. By her second husband she had one son, George Rodney 
 Bridges, who died in 1751. This woman is said to have been so aban- 
 doned, as to have held, in the habit of a page, her gallant, the duke's 
 horse, while he fought and killed her husband ; after which she went to 
 bed with him, stained with her husband's blood. 
 
 [Pepys says, in his Diary, Jan. 17th, 1667-8. "Much discourse of 
 the duel yesterday between the Duke of Buckingham, Holmes, and one
 
 t>30 NOTES AND 
 
 Jenkins, on one side, and my Lord of Shrewsbury, Sir John Talbot, and 
 one Bernard Howard, on the other side : and all about my Lady Shrews- 
 bury, who is at this time, and hath for a great while been, a mistress to 
 the Duke of Buckingham. And so her husband challenged him, and 
 they met yesterday in a close near Barne-Elmes, and there fought : and 
 my Lord Shrewsbury is run through the body, from the right breast 
 through the shoulder ; and Sir John Talbot all along up one of his 
 arms ; and Jenkins killed upon the place, and the rest all in a little 
 measure wounded. This will make the world think that the king hath 
 good counsellors about him, when the Duke of Buckingham, the greatest 
 man about him, is a fellow of no more sobriety than to fight about a 
 mistress. And this may prove a very bad accident to the Duke of 
 Buckingham, but that my Lady Castlemaine do rule all at this time as 
 much as ever she did, and she will, it is believed, keep all matters well 
 with the Duke of Buckingham : though this is a time that the king will 
 be very backward, I suppose, to appear in such a business. And it is 
 pretty to hear how the king had some notice of this challenge a week or 
 two ago, and did give it to my Lord General to confine the duke, or 
 take security that he should not do any such thing as fight : and the 
 general trusted to the king that he, sending for him, would do it ; and 
 the king trusted to the general. And it is said that my Lord Shrews- 
 bury's case is to be feared, that he may die too ; and that may make it 
 much worse for the Duke of Buckingham : and I shall not be much sorry 
 for it, that we may have some sober man come in his room to assist in 
 the Government." 
 
 And again, " May 15th, 16G8. I am told that the Countess of 
 Shrewsbury is brought home by the Duke of Buckingham to his house ; 
 where his duchess saying that it was not for her and the other to live 
 together in a house, he answered, ' Why, madam, I did think so, and 
 therefore have ordered your coach to be ready to carry you to your 
 father's ;' which was a devilish speech, but, they say, true ; and my 
 Lady Shrewsbury is there, it seems."] 
 
 NOTE 57, Page 109. 
 The Miss Brooks. 
 
 One of these ladies married Sir John Denham, and is mentioned here- 
 after. 
 
 NOTE 58, Page 109. 
 
 The new queen t/ave but little additional brilliancy to the court. 
 Lord Clarendon confirms, in some measure, this account. " There was 
 a numerous family of men and women, that were sent from Portugal, the 
 most improper to promote that conformity in the queen that was necessary 
 for her condition and future happiness that could be chosen ; the women, 
 for the most part, old, and ugly, and proud, incapable of any conversation 
 with persons of quality and a liberal education : and they desired, and in- 
 deed had conspired so far to possess the queen themselves, that she should 
 neither learn the English language, nor use their habit, nor depart from 
 the manners and fashions cf her own country in any particulars ; which
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. Cj 
 
 resolution," they told, " would be for the dignity of Portugal, and would 
 quickly induce the English ladies to conform to her majesty's practice. 
 And this imagination had made that impression, that the tailor who had 
 been sent into Portugal to make her clothes could never be admitted to 
 see her, or receive any employment. Nor when she came to Portsmouth, 
 and found there several ladies of honour and prime quality to attend her 
 in the places to which they were assigned by the king, did she receive any 
 of them till the king himself came ; nor then with any grace, or the liberty 
 that belonged to their places and offices. She could not be persuaded to 
 be dressed out of the wardrobe that the king had sent to her, but would 
 wear the clothes which she had brought, until she found that the king was 
 displeased, and would be obeyed ; whereupon she conformed, against the 
 advice of her women, who continued their opiniatrety, without any one of 
 them receding from their own mode, which exposed them the more to 
 reproach." Continuation of Clarendon's Life, p. 168. In a short time 
 after their arrival in England, they were ordered back to Portugal. 
 
 NOTE 59, Page 110. 
 
 Katherine of Braganza u-as far from appearing with splendour in the 
 charming court where she came to reign ; however, in the end she was 
 pretty successful. 
 
 [Evelyn says, " May 30th, 1662. The queen arrived with a train of 
 Portuguese ladies in their monstrous fardingals or guard-infantas, their 
 complexions olivader, and sufficiently unagreeable. Her Majesty in 
 the same habit, her foretop long and turned aside very strangely. She was 
 yet of the handsomest countenance of all the rest, and, though low of 
 stature, prettily shaped, languishing and excellent eyes, her teeth wronging 
 her mouth by sticking a little too far out ; for the rest lovely enough."] 
 
 Lord Clarendon says, " the queen had beauty and wit enough to make 
 herself agreeable to him (the king ;) and it is very certain, that, at their 
 first meeting, and for some time after, the king had very good satisfaction 
 in her." " Though she was of years enough to have had more experience 
 of the world, and of as much wit as could be wished, and of a humour 
 very agreeable at some seasons, yet, she had been bred, according to the 
 mode and discipline of her country, in a monastery, where she had only 
 seen the women who attended her, and conversed with the religious who 
 resided there ; and, without doubt, in her inclinations, was enough disposed 
 to have been one of that number : and from this restraint she was called 
 out to be a great queen, and to a free conversation in a court that was to 
 be upon the matter ne\y formed, and reduced from the manners of a licen- 
 tious age to the old rules and limits which had been observed in better 
 times ; to which regular and decent conformity the present disposition of 
 men or women was not enough inclined to submit, nor the king enough 
 disposed to exact." Continuation nf Lord Clarendon's Life, p. 167: 
 After some struggle, she submitted to the king's licentious conduct, and 
 from that time lived upon easy terms with him, until his death. On the 
 30th of March, 1692, she left Somerset-house, her usual residence, and 
 retired to Lisbon, where she died 31st December, 17U5, N. s.
 
 352 NOTES AND 
 
 NOTE 60, Page 110. 
 
 This princess. 
 
 " The Duchess of York," says Bishop Burnet, " was a very extraordi- 
 nary woman. She had great knowledge, and a lively sense of things. 
 She soon understood what belonged to a princess, and took state on her 
 rather too much. She writ well, and had begun the duke's life, of which 
 she shewed me a volume. It was all drawn from his journal ; and he in- 
 tended to have employed me in carrying it on. She was bred in greaS 
 strictness in religion, and practised secret confession. Morley told me he 
 was her confessor. She began at twelve years old, and continued under 
 his direction till, upon her father's disgrace, he was put from the court. 
 She was generous and friendly, but was too severe an enemy." Bur- 
 net's Own Times, vol. i. p. 237. She was contracted to the duke 
 at Breda, November 24, 1659, and married at Worcester-house, 3rd 
 September, 1660, in the night, between eleven and two, by Dr. Joseph 
 Crowther, the duke's chaplain ; the Lord Ossory giving her in marriage. 
 Kennet's Register, p. 246. She died 31st March, 1671, having pre- 
 viously acknowledged herself to be a Roman Catholic. See also her 
 character by Bishop Morley. Kennel's Register, p. 385, 390. 
 
 NOTE 61, Page 110. 
 
 The Queen-doieager returned after the marriage of the Princess-royal. 
 Queen Henrietta Maria arrived at Whitehall, 2nd November, 1660, 
 after nineteen years' absence. She was received with acclamations ; and 
 bonfires were lighted on the occasion, both in London and Westminster. 
 She returned to France with her daughter, the Princess Henrietta, 2nd Ja- 
 nuary, 1660-1. She arrived again at Greenwich, 28th July, 1662, and 
 continued to keep her court in England, until July, 1665, when she em- 
 barked for France, " and took so many things with her," says Lord Cla- 
 rendon, " that it was thought by many that she did not intend ever to 
 return into England. Whatever her intentions at that time were, she 
 never did see England again, though she lived many years after." Conti- 
 nuation of Clarendon's Life, p. 263. She died at Colombe, near Paris, 
 in August, 1669 ; and her son, the Duke of York, pronounces this eulo- 
 gium on her : " She excelled in all the good qualities of a good wife, of a 
 good mother, aad a good Christian." Macpherson's Original Papers, 
 vol. i. 
 
 NOTE 62, Page 112. 
 
 St. Evremond. 
 
 Charles de St. Dennis, Seigneur de St. Evremond, was born at St. 
 Denis le Guast, in Lower Normandy, on the 1st of April, 1613. He was 
 educated at Paris, with a view to the profession of the law ; but he early 
 quitted that pursuit, and went into the army, where he signalized himself 
 on several occasions. At the time of the Pyrenean treaty, he wrote a let- 
 ter censuring the conduct of Cardinal Mazarine, which occasioned his being- 
 banished France. He first took refuge in Holland; but, in 1662, he re- 
 moved into England, where he continued, with a short interval, during the
 
 ILLCSTRATIOXS. 353 
 
 rest of his life. In 1C 75, the Duchess of Mazarine came to reside in Eng- 
 land ; and with her St. Evremond passed much of his time. He preserved 
 his health and cheerfulness to a very great age, and died 9th of September, 
 1T03. aged ninety years, five months, and twenty days. His biographer, 
 Monsieur Des Maizeaux, describes him thus : " M. de St. Evremond had 
 blue, lively, and sparkling eyes, a large forehead, thick eye-brows, a hand- 
 some mouth, and a sneering physiognomy. Twenty years before his death, 
 t: wc:i icrew between his eye-brows, which in time increased to a consider- 
 able bigness. He once designed to have it cut oft", but as it was no ways 
 troublesome to him, and he little regarded that kind of deformity, Dr. Le 
 Fevre advised him to let it alone, lest such an operation should be attended 
 with dangerous symptoms in a man of his age. He would often make 
 merry with himself on account of his wen, his great leather-cap, and his grey 
 hair, which he chose to wear rather than a periwig." St. Evremond was 
 a kind of Epicurean philosopher, and drew his own character in the follow- 
 ing terms, in a letter to Count de Grammont : " He was a philosopher 
 equally removed from superstition and impiety ; a voluptuary who had no 
 less aversion from debauchery than inclination for pleasure ; a man who 
 had never felt the pressure of indigence, and who had never been in pos- 
 session of affluence ; he lived in a condition despised by those who have 
 every thing, envied by those who have nothing, and relished by those who 
 make their reason the foundation of their happiness. When he was youn*; 
 he hated profusion, being persuaded that some degree of wealth was ne- 
 cessary for the conveniences of a long life : when he was old, he could hardly 
 endure economy, being of opinion that want is little to be dreaded when 
 a man has but little time left to be miserable. He was well pleased with 
 nature, and did not complain of fortune. He hated vice, was indulgent 
 to frailties, and lamented misfortunes. He sought not after the failings 
 of men with a design to expose them ; he only found what was ridiculous 
 in them for his own amusement : he had a secret pleasure in discovering 
 this himself, and would, indeed, have had a still greater in discovering this 
 to others, had he not been checked by discretion. Life, hi his opinion, 
 was too short to read all sorts of books, and to burden one's memory with 
 a multitude of things, at the expense of one's judgment. He did not ap- 
 ply himself to the most learned writings, in order to acquire knowledge, 
 but to the most rational, to fortify his reason : he sometimes chose the 
 most delicate, to give delicacy to his own taste, and sometimes the most 
 agreeable, to give the same to his own genius. It remains that he should 
 be described, such as he was, in friendship and in religion. In friendship 
 he was more constant than a philosopher, and more sincere than a young 
 man of good nature without experience. With regard to religion, his piety 
 consisted more in justice and charity than in penance or mortification. He 
 placed his confidence in God, trusting in his goodness, and hoping that hi 
 the bosom of his providence he should find his repose and his felicity.'- 
 He was buried in Westminster Abbey. 
 
 ' A
 
 354 NOTES AND 
 
 NOTE 63, Page 112. 
 
 Avoid love, by pursuing other pleasures ; love has never been favourable 
 to you. 
 
 " Saint Evremond and Bussi-Rabutin, who have also written on the 
 life of the Count de Grammout, agree with Hamilton in representing him 
 as a man less fortunate in love than at play ; not seeking for any other 
 pleasure in the conquest of a woman but that of depriving another of her ; 
 and not able to persuade any one of his passion, because he spoke to her, 
 as at all other times, in jest ; but cruelly revenging himself on those who 
 refused to hear him ; corrupting the servants of those whom they did 
 favour, counterfeiting their hand-writing, intercepting their letters, dis- 
 concerting their rendezvous ; in one word, disturbing their amours by 
 every thing which a rival, prodigal, indefatigable, and full ol artifice, can 
 be imagined to do. The straightest ties of blood could not secure any one 
 from his detraction. His nephew, the Count de Guiche, was a victim ; 
 he had, in truth, offended the Count de Grammont, by having supplanted 
 him in the affection of the Countess de Fiesque, whom he loved afterwards 
 for the space of twelve years. Here was enough to irritate the self-love 
 of a man less persuaded of his own merit." 
 
 Hamilton does not describe the exterior of the count, but accuses Bussi- 
 Rabutin of having, in the following description, given a more agreeable 
 than faithful portrait of him : " The Chevalier had laughing eyes, a well- 
 formed nose, a beautiful mouth, a small dimple in the chin, which had an 
 agreeable effect on his countenance, a certain delicacy in his physiognomy, 
 and a handsome shape, if he had not stooped." 
 
 NOTE 64, Page 114. 
 
 D' Olonne. 
 
 Mademoiselle de la Loupe, who is mentioned in De Retz's Memoirs, 
 vol. iii. p. 95. She married the Count d' Olonne, and became famous 
 for her gallantries, of which the Count de Bussi speaks so much, in his 
 " History of the Amours of the Gauls." Her maiden name was Catherine 
 Henrietta d'Angennes, and she was daughter to Charles d'Angennes, Lord 
 of la Loupe, Baron of Amberville, by Mary du Raynier. There is a long 
 character of her by St. Evremond, in his works, vol. i. p. 17. The same 
 writer, mentioning the concern of some ladies for the death of the Duke 
 of Candale, says, " But his true mistress (the Countess d'Olonne) made 
 herself famous by the excess of her affliction, and had, in my opinion, 
 been happy, if she had kept it on to the last. One amour is creditable to 
 a lady ; and I know not whether it be not more advantageous to their 
 reputation than never to have been in love." St. Evremond' s Works, 
 vol. ii. p. 24. 
 
 NOTE 65, Page 114. 
 
 The Countess de Fiesque. 
 
 This lady seems to have been the wife of the Count de Fiesque, who is 
 mentioned by St. Evremond, as " fruitful in military chimeras ; who, be- 
 sides the post of lieutenant-general, wb'di he had at Paris, obtained a parti-
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 355 
 
 cular commission for the beating up of the quarters, and other rash and 
 sudden exploits, which may be resolved upon whilst one is singing the air 
 of La Barre, or dancing a minuet." St. Evremond's Works, vol. i. p. 6. 
 The count's name occurs very frequently in De Retz's Memoirs. 
 
 NOTE 63, Page 113. 
 
 Mr. Jones, afterwards Earl of Ranelagh. 
 
 Richard, the first Earl of Ranelagh, was member of the English house 
 of Commons, and vice-treasurer of Ireland, 1674. He held several offices 
 under King William and Queen Anne, and died 5th January, 1/11. 
 Bishop Burnet says, "Lord Ranelagh was a young man of great parts, and as 
 great vices : he had a pleasantness in his conversation that took much with 
 the king ; and had a great dexterity in business." Burnet' s Own Times, 
 vol. i. p. 373. 
 
 NOTE 67, Page 116. 
 
 Amongst the queen's maids of honour there was one called Warmestre. 
 Lord Orford observes, that there is a family of the name of Warminster 
 settled at Worcester, of which five persons are interred in the cathedral. 
 One of them was dean of the church, and his epitaph mentions his attach- 
 ment to the royal family. Miss Warminster, however, was probably 
 a fictitious name. The last Earl of Arran, who lived only a short time 
 after the period these transactions are supposed to have happened, asserted, 
 that the maid of honour here spoken of was Miss Mary Kirk, sister of 
 the Countess of Oxford, and who, three years after she was driven from 
 court, married Sir Thomas Vernon, under the supposed character of a 
 widow. It was not improbable she then assumed the name of Warminster. 
 In the year 1669, the following is the list of the maids of honour to the 
 queen: 1. Mrs. Simona Carew. 2. Mrs. Catherine Bainton. 3. Mrs. 
 Henrietta Maria Price. 4. Mrs. Winifred Wells. The lady who had then 
 the office of mother of the maids was Lady Saunderson. See Chamber- 
 layne's Angliat Notitia, 1669, p. 301. 
 
 NOTE 68, Page 116. 
 
 Mrs. Middleton. 
 
 Mrs. Jane Middleton, according to Granger, was a woman of small 
 fortune, but great beauty. Her portrait is in the gallery at Windsor. 
 
 NOTE 69, Page 117. 
 
 Miss Steivart. 
 
 Frances, Duchess of Richmond, daughter of Walter Stewart, son of 
 Walter, Baron of Blantyre, and wife of Charles Stewart, Duke of Rich- 
 mond and Lennox : a lady of exquisite beauty, if justly represented in a 
 puncheon made by Roettiere, his majesty's engraver of the mint, in order 
 to strike a medal of her, which exhibits the finest face that perhaps was 
 ever seen. The king was supposed to be desperately in love with her ; 
 
 2 A 2
 
 OoG NOTEi AND 
 
 and it became common discourse, that there was a design on foot to _;et 
 him divorced from the queen, in order to marry this lady. [Pepys desi 
 her as the greatest beauty he ever saw in his life : " With her cocked hat 
 and a red plume, with her sweet eye, little Roman nose, and excellent 
 taille ;" and adds, " I!" ever woman can, do exceed my Lady Castlemaine, at 
 least in this dress : nor do I wonder if the king changes, which I verily be- 
 lieve is the reason of his coldness to myLady Castlemaine."] Lord Claren- 
 don was thought to have promoted the match with the Duke of Richmond, 
 thereby to prevent the other design, which he imagined would hurt the 
 king's character, embroil his affairs at present, and entail all the evils of 
 a disputed succession on the nation. Whether he actually encouraged the 
 Duke of Richmond's marriage, doth not appear ; but it is certain that he 
 was so strongly possessed of the king's inclination to a divorce, that, even 
 after his disgrace, he was persuaded the Duke of Buckingham had under- 
 taken to carry that matter through the parliament. It is certain too that 
 the king considered him as the chief promoter of Miss Stewart's marriage, 
 and resented it in the highest degree. The ceremony took place privately, 
 and it was publicly declared hi April, 1667. From one of Sir Robert 
 Southwell's dispatches, dated Lisbon, December ,, 1667, it aprears 
 that the report of the queen's intended divorce had not then subsided in 
 her native country. History of the Revolutions of Portugal, \ 7 ; 
 352. The duchess became a widow in 1672, and died October 13, 1702. 
 See Burnet's History, Ludlow's Memoirs, and Carte's Life of the Duke 
 of Ormond. A figure in wax of this duchess is still to be seen in West- 
 minster Abbey. 
 
 NOTE 70, Page 118. 
 
 Mrs. Hyde. 
 
 Theodosia, daughter of Arthur, Lord Capel, first wife of Henry Hyde, 
 the second Earl of Clarendon. 
 
 NOTE 71, Page 118. 
 Jacob Hall, the famous rope-dancer. 
 
 ' ' There was a symmetry and elegance, as well as strength and agility, 
 in the person of Jacob Hall, which was much admired by the ladies, who 
 regarded him as a due composition of Hercules and Adonis. The open- 
 hearted Duchess of Cleveland was said to have been in love with this 
 rope-dancer and Goodman the player at the same time. The former 
 received a salary from her grace." Granger, vol. ii. part ii. p. 461. 
 
 NOTE 72, Page 119. 
 
 Thomas Howard, brother to the Earl of Carlisle. 
 Thomas Howard, fourth son of Sir William Howard. He married 
 Mary, Duchess of Richmond, daughter of George Villiers, Duke of Buck- 
 ingham, and died 1678. See Mad. Dunois's Memoirs of the 
 Court, 8vo., 1708.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 35? 
 
 NOTE 73, Page 119. 
 
 Spring-garden. 
 
 This place appears, from the description of its situation in the follow- 
 ing extract, and in some ancient plans, to have been near Chariug-cross, 
 probably where houses are now built, though still retaining the name of 
 gardens. The entertainments usually to be met with there are thus 
 described by a contemporary writer : " The manner is, as the company 
 returns (i. e. from Hyde-park), to alight at the Spring-garden, so called 
 in order to the parke, as our Thuilleries is to the course : the inclosure 
 not disagreeable, for the solemness of the grove, the warbling of the birds, 
 and as it opens into the spacious walks at St. James's; but the com- 
 pany walk in it at such a rate, you would think all the ladies were so 
 many Atulantas contending with their wooers; and, my lord, there was 
 no appearance that I should prove Hippomenes, who could with much 
 ado keep pace with them : but as fast as they run, they stay there so long 
 as if they wanted not time to finish the race ; for it is usual here to find 
 some of the young company till midnight ; and the thickets of the garden 
 seem to be contrived to all advantages of gallantry, after they have re- 
 freshed with the collation, which is here seldom omitted, at a certain 
 cabaret, in the middle of this paradise, where the forbidden fruits are 
 certain trifling tarts, neats' tongues, salicious meats, and bad Rhenish, 
 for which the gallants pay sauce, as indeed they do at all such houses 
 throughout England ; forthey think it a piece of frugality beneath them 
 to bargain or account for what they eat in any place, however unrea- 
 sonably imposed upon." Character of England, 12mo., 1659, p. 56, 
 written, it is said, by John Evelyn, Esq. Spring-garden is the scene of 
 intrigue in many of our comedies of this period. 
 
 NOTE 74, Page 121. 
 This was Montagu. 
 
 Ralph Montagu, second son of Edward, Lord Montagu. He was 
 master of the horse to the queen, and, in 1669, was sent ambassador 
 extraordinary to France; on his return from whence, in January, 1672, 
 he was sworn of the privy-council. He afterwards became master of the 
 srreat wardrobe, and was sent a second time to France. He took a very 
 decided part in the prosecution of the popish plot, in 1678 ; but on the 
 sacrifice of his friend, Lord Russell, he retired to Montpelier during the 
 rest of King Charles's reign. He was active at the Revolution, and soon 
 after created Viscount Monthermer, and Earl of Montagu. In 1705, ne 
 became Marquis of Monthermer, and Duke of Montagu. He died 7th 
 March, 1 709, in his 73rd year, leaving behind him the character of a very 
 indulgent parent, a kind and bountiful master, a very hearty friend, a 
 noble patron of men of merit, and a true assertor of English liberty. 
 
 NOTE 75, Page 122. 
 
 Miss Hamilton. 
 
 Elizabeth, sister of the author of these Memoirs, and daughter of Sir 
 George Hamilton, fourth son of James, the first Earl of Abercorn, by
 
 S58 NOTES AND 
 
 Mary, third daughter of Thomas, Viscount Thurles, eldest son of Walter, 
 eleventh Earl of Ormond, and sister to James, the first Duke of Ormond. 
 She married Philibert, Count of Grammont, the hero of these Memoirs, 
 by whom she had two daughters : Claude Charlotte, married, 3rd April, 
 1694, to Henry, Earl of Stafford ; and another, who became superior, or 
 abbess, of the Chanonesses in Lorraine. 
 
 NOTE 76, Page 125. 
 Lady Muskerry. 
 
 Lady Margaret, only child of Ulick, fifth Earl of Clanricarde, by Lady 
 Anne Compton, daughter of William, Earl of Northampton, She was 
 three times married : 1. To Charles, Lord Viscount Muskerry, who lost 
 his life in the great sea-fight with the Dutch, 3rd June, 1665. 2. In 
 1676, to Robert Villiers, called Viscount Purbeck, who died in 1685. 
 3. To Robert Fielding, Esq. She died in August, 1698. Lord Orford, 
 by mistake, calls her Elizabeth, daughter of the Earl of Kildare. See 
 note 149. 
 
 NOTE 77, Page 125. 
 3.1'iss Blague. 
 
 It appears, by Chamlerlayne's Anglic; Notilia, 1669, that this lady, 
 or perhaps her sister, continued one of the duchess's maids of honour at 
 that period. The list, at that time, was as follows: 1. Mrs. Arabella 
 Churchill. 2. Mrs. Dorothy Howard. 3. Mrs. Anne Ogle. 4. Mrs. 
 Mary Blague. The mother of the maids then was Mrs. Lucy Wise. 
 Miss Blague performed the part of Diana, in Crown's Calisto, acted at 
 court in 1675, and was then styled late maid of honour to the queen. 
 Lord Orford, however, it should be observed, calls her Henrietta Maria, 
 daughter of Colonel Blague. It appears, she became the wife of Sir 
 Thomas Yarborough, of Snaith, in Yorkshire. She was also, he says, 
 sister of the wife of Sydney, Lord Godolphin. That nobleman married, 
 according to Collins, in his peerage, Margaret, at that time maid of ho- 
 nour to Katherine, Queen of England, fourth daughter, and one of the 
 co-heirs of Thomas Blague, Esq., groom of the bed-chamber to Charles I. 
 and Charles II., colonel of a regiment of foot, and governor of Walling- 
 ford during the civil wars, and governor of Yarmouth and Landgnard 
 Fort, after the Restoration. 
 
 NOTE 78, Page 129. 
 
 Prince Rupert. 
 
 Grandson of James the First, whose actions during the civil wars are 
 well known. He was born 19th December, 1619, and died at his house 
 in Spring Gardens, November 22, 1682. Lord Clarendon says of him, 
 that " he was rough and passionate, and loved not debate ; liked what was 
 proposed, as he liked the persons who proposed it; and was so great an 
 enemy to Digby and Colepepper, who were only present in the debates 
 of the war with the officers, that he crossed all they proposed." History 
 of the Rebellion, vol. ii. p. 554. He is supposed to have invented the 
 art of mezzotinto. See note 151.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 359 
 
 NOTE 79, Page 129. 
 
 Lord Thanet. 
 
 This nobleman, I believe, was John Tufton, second Earl of Thanet, 
 who died 6th May, 1664. Lord Orford, however, imagines him to have 
 been Nicholas Tufton, the third Earl of Thanet, his eldest son, who died 
 24th November, 1679. Both these noblemen suffered much for their 
 loyalty. 
 
 NOTE 80, Page 130. 
 Young wild boar's eyes. 
 
 Marcassin is French for a wild boar ; the eyes of this creature being 
 remarkably small and lively, from thence the French say, " Des yeux 
 marcassins," to signify little, though roguish eyes; or, as we say, pig's 
 eyes. 
 
 NOTE 81, Page 131. 
 
 Miss Price, one of the maids of honour to the duchess. 
 Our author's memory here fails him ; Miss Price was maid of honour 
 to the queen. Mr. Granger says, " There was a Lady Price, a fine 
 woman, who was daughter of Sir Edmund \Varcup," concerning whom, 
 see Wood's Fasti Oxon. ii. 184. Her father had the vanity to think 
 that Charles II. would marry her, though he had then a queen. There 
 were letters of his wherein he mentioned, that " his daughter was one 
 night and t'other with the king, and very graciously received by him." 
 Granger, vol. iv. p. 338. 
 
 NOTE 82, Page 132. 
 
 Duncan. 
 
 I believe this name should be written Dongan. Lord Orford says, of 
 this house were the ancient earls of Limerick. 
 
 NOTE 83, Page 135. 
 Duchess of Newcastle. 
 
 [Pepys, in his Diary, April llth, 1667, says : " To Whitehall, think- 
 ing there to have seen the Duchess of Newcastle coming this night to 
 court to make a visit to the queen, the king having been with her yester- 
 day to make her a visit since her coming to town. The whole story of 
 this lady is a romance, and all she does is romantic. Her footmen in vel- 
 vet coats, and herself in an antique dress, as they say ; and was the other 
 day at her own play, ' The Humorous Lovers,' the most ridiculous thing 
 that ever was wrote, but yet she and her lord mightily pleased with it ; 
 and she at the end made her respects to the players from her box, and did 
 give them thanks. There is as much expectation of her coming to court, 
 that people may come to see her, as if it were the Queen of Sweden ; but 
 I lost my labour, for she did not come this night."] 
 
 This fantastic lady, as Lord Orford properly calls her, was the young-
 
 Ot)0 NOTES AND 
 
 est daughter of Sir Charles Lucas, and had been one of the maids cf ho- 
 nour to Charles the First's queen, whom she attended when forced to leave. 
 England. At Paris she married the Duke of Newcastle, and continued in 
 exile with him until the Restoration. After her return to England, she 
 lived entirely devoted to letters, and published many volumes of plays, 
 poems, letters, &c. She died in 1673, and was buried in Westminster 
 Abbey. Lord Orford says, there is a whole length of this duchess r.t 
 Welbeck, in a theatric dress, which, tradition says, she generally wore. 
 She had always a maid of honour in waiting during the night, who was 
 often called up to register the duchess's conceptions. These were all of a 
 literary kind ; for her grace left no children. 
 
 NOTE 84, Page 137 
 
 The uncle. 
 
 John Russel, third son of Francis, the fourth Earl of Bedford, and 
 colonel of the first regiment of foot guards. He died unmarried, in No- 
 vember, 1681. 
 
 NOTE 85, Paje 137. 
 
 The nephew. 
 
 William, eldest son of Edward Russel, younger brother of the above 
 John Russel. He was standard-bearer to Charles II., and died unmar- 
 ried, 1674. He was elder brother to Russel, Earl of Orford. 
 
 NOTE 86, Page 1-iO. 
 
 Henry Howard. 
 
 This was Henry Howard, brother to Thomas, Earl of Arundel, who, 
 by a special Act of Parliament, in 1664, was restored to the honours of 
 the family, forfeited by the attainder of his ancestor, in the time of Queen 
 Elizabeth. On the death of his brother, in 1677, he became Duke of 
 Norfolk, and died January 11, 1683-4, at his house in Arundel-street, 
 aged 55. 
 
 NOTE 87, Page 141. 
 
 Toulonyeon will die without my assistance. 
 
 Count de Toulongeon was elder brother to Count Grammont, who, by 
 his death, in 1679, became, according to St. Evremond, on that event, 
 one of the richest noblemen at court. See St. Evremond's Works, vol. 
 ii. p. 237. 
 
 NOTE 88, Page 141. 
 
 Semeat. 
 A country seat belonging to the family of the Graromonts.
 
 ILLU3TRATIOXS. "61 
 
 NOTE 89, Page 142. 
 He was extremely handsome. 
 
 George Villiers, the second Duke of Buckingham, was born 30th Jan- 
 uary, 1627. Lord Orford observes, " When this extraordinary man, 
 with the figure and genius of Alcibiades, could equally charm the presby- 
 tcrian 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 frolic ; when the 
 worst designs are for the foolishest 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." Royal and Noble Authors, vol. ii. p. 70. 
 
 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 great 
 liveliness of wit, and a peculiar faculty of turning all things into ridicule, 
 with bold figures, and natural descriptions. He had no sort of literature, 
 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 effect that 
 attends on all such men as he was, when they are drawn in, to lay out for 
 it. Ht had no principles of religion, 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 that his conversation was 
 as much avoided as ever it had been courted." Burnei's O'.m Timi't, 
 vol. i. p. 137. 
 
 JJryden'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 epitorce : 
 Stiff in opinions, always in the wronir ; 
 Was every thing by starts, and nothing long, 
 But. in the course of one revolving moon, 
 Was 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 iate ; 
 
 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 he-ilth, of fortune, friends, 
 And fame, this lord of useless thousand ends." 
 
 Moral Essays, Epist. iii. 1. 299. 
 
 He died 16th April, 1G88, 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 pen 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 all 
 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, and opened other little blind loop-holes 
 backward, by turning day into night, and night into day. His appetite 
 to his pleasures is diseased and crazy, like the pica in a woman, that 
 longs 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 antipodes. 
 He is a great observer of the Tartar customs, and never eats till the great 
 cham, having dined, makes proclamation that all the world may go to 
 dinner. He does not dwell in his house, but 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, like 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, 1667. The Duke of 
 Buckingham is, it seems, set at liberty without any further charge against 
 him or other clearing of him, but let to go out ; which is one of tbe 
 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 
 dad 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 
 respect. 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, 16S5 
 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 Bevenvn.ert. 
 sou to Maurice, Prince of Orange, and Count Nassau. By her, Lord 
 Arlington had an only daughter, named Isabella, who married, August 
 1, 1072, 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
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 385 
 
 NOTE 92, Page 144. 
 
 Hamilton u-as, of all the courtiers, the lest qualified, $c. 
 Lord Orford says, this was George 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, evidently relate but to two, James and George ; what belong 
 to each is most clearly and distinctly pointed out by the author. 
 
 NOTE 93, Page 145. 
 
 She was daughter to the Dnke of Ormond. 
 
 And second wife of the Earl of Chesterfield. She survived the adven- 
 tures here related a very short time, dying in July, 1665, at the age ot 
 twenty-five years. 
 
 NOTE 94, Page 145. 
 
 The queen was given over ly her physicians. 
 
 This happened in October, 1663. 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 yoxi will hear she is either in a fair way to it, 
 or dead : to-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 Great Britain. 
 
 This was Whitehall, which was burnt down, except the banqueting- 
 li.n-.se, 4'h January, 1698. See Harleian Miscellany, vol. vi. p. 367. 
 
 NOTE 96, Page 148. 
 Monsieur de Comminge. 
 
 This gentleman was ambassador in London, from the court of France, 
 during the years 1663, 1664, and 1665. Lord Clarendon, speaking of 
 him, 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 Life, 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 England, as it teas lately presented to a Nobleman of 
 France, 12mo. 1659, 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 Ultimum Vale of John Carleton, 4to. 1663, p. 23, will, 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 Taff 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 further 
 information on the history of coaches, see that very interesting work 
 Beckmann's History of Inventions, new edition, in Bohn's Standard 
 Library. 
 
 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 Grammont. 
 
 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." HenaulCs 
 History of France, He died 1078.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 367 
 
 NOTE 101, Page 157. 
 Description of Lord Chesterfield. 
 
 Philip, the second Earl of Chesterfield. He was constituted, in 1662, 
 lord-chamberlain to the queen, and colonel of a regiment of foot, June 
 13, 1667. On November 29, 1679, he was appointed lord-warden and 
 chief-justice of the king's forests on this side Trent, and sworn of the 
 privy-council, January 26, 1680. On November 6, 1682, 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 bis 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 167. 
 
 Lady Carnegy. 
 
 Anne, daughter of William, Duke of Hamilton, and wife of Robert 
 Carnegy, 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 like 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 is 
 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.
 
 -'^3 XOTES AND 
 
 NOTE ICG, Page 170. 
 
 Lady Rolarts. 
 
 Lord Orford says, this lady was Sarah, daughter of John Eod- 
 viiie, of Bodville Castle, in Caernarvonshire, 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 
 lord, 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, whose 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 
 naturally proud and imperious, which humour was increased by an ili. 
 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.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. GG9 
 
 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 1676. 
 
 NOTE 108, Page 172. 
 
 Sir John Denham. 
 
 That Sir John Denham "had passed his youth in the midst of those 
 pleasures which people at that age indulge in without restraint," all his 
 biographers seem to admit ; but, if our author is to be relied on, Wood's 
 account of the date of his birth, 1615, 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 1667, he 
 appears to have been a lunatic, either real or feigned. Lord Lisle, in a 
 letter to Sir William Temple, dated September 26th, 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. 155, 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 ex- 
 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 
 irold. (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. Was 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 Irish Rebellion threescore 
 thousand strong, when nobody suspected it. He was much rooked by 
 punesters, and fell acquainted with that unsanctified crew to his ruin. 
 Mis 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
 
 370 NOTES AND 
 
 his father's death (who left 2,000 or 1,500 lih. 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 1646, 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 
 Hounslovv, 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 E. 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 1,1617, 
 from the information of Lord Rochester himself. His father was Henry, 
 Sari of Rochester, better known by the title of Lord Wilinot. He was 
 educated at Wadham College, Oxford, and, in!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 ti.e 
 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
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 371 
 
 footman that knew all the court ; and he furnished him with a red coat 
 and a musket, as a sentinel, and kept him all the winter long, 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 the 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 mistake, 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 changed, that, if he had recovered, he would have made good 
 all his resolutions." History 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, 1665. " 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 invited for 
 her. She is worth, and will be at her mother's death (who keeps but 
 little from her), 2,500/. per annum."] Lord Rochester died July 26, 
 1680. 
 
 NOTE 110, Page 189. 
 
 Middlesex. 
 
 At this time the Earl of Middlesex was Lionel, who died in 1674. 
 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 his, 
 joined with so much good-nature as was in himself, even to excess ; for 
 he was against all punishing, even of malefactors. He was bountiful, 
 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 ha'd 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.' 
 
 Nolle Authors, vol. ii. p. 96. Lord Dorset died January 19, 1705-G. 
 
 [Pepys thus notices his connection with Nell Gwynn. July 13th, 1607. 
 " 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 hutes her ; 
 and she is very poor, and hath lost my Lady Castlemaine, who was her 
 great friend, also ; but she is come to the play-house, but is neglected by 
 them all."] 
 
 NOTE 111, Page 189. 
 
 Sydley. 
 
 Sir Charles Sedley was born about the year 1639, and was educated at 
 Wadham College, Oxford. He ran into all 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 
 his 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 II. [The following w/.l-kr.'.Hvn
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 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 many 
 obligations ? " I hate ingratitude," he said, " and therefore, as the king 
 has made my daughter 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 on his powers of 
 seduction are well known. He died 20th Augv..-t. 1701. 
 
 [Among other numerous frolics related of Sir Charles Sedley, that 
 which took place in June, 1663, when he was in company with Lord 
 Euckhurst, Sir Thomas Ogle. &c. at the Cock Tavern, in Bow Street, 
 Covent Garden, as recorded by Anthony Wood (see his Life, p. 53, and 
 his Athens, vol. iv. p. 732), is the most notorious. " His indecent and 
 blasphemous proceedings there raised a riot, wherein the people became 
 very clamorous, and would have forced the door next to the street open ; 
 but being hindered, he and his companions were pelted into the room, and 
 the windows belonging thereunto were broken. This frolic being soon 
 spread abroad, especially by the fanatical party, 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 summoned 
 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 50(W. 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, &c. The day for payment being appointed, Sir 
 Charles desired Mr. Henry Killegrew, and another gentleman, to apply 
 themselves to his majesty to get it off; but instead of that, they beg'd 
 the said sum of his majesty, and would not abate Sir Charles two-pence 
 of the money." 
 
 Pepys thus alludes to a somewhat similar frolic in 1668 : " Pierce do 
 tell me, among other news, the late frolic and debauchery of Sir Charles 
 Sedley and Buckhurst 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 born about the 
 year 1636. 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 wailing
 
 374 NOTES AND 
 
 or 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 porfrait painter, called Lely. 
 
 Sir Peter Lely was born 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 supplied 
 the want of taste with clinquant : his nymphs trail fringes and embroidery 
 through meadows and purling streams. Add, that Vandyck's habits are 
 those of the times ; Lely'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, Lely'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 1680, 
 and was buried in St. Paul's, Covent Garden. 
 
 NOTE 114, Page 192. 
 Merciless fate rolled 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 life 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 will 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 lanJcs of a river, in 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 once 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 painted 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, but the very stones them- 
 selves, have been converted to the purpose of filthy lucre." Tour, in 
 1787, from London to the Western Highlands of Scotland, 12mo., 
 p. 29. 
 
 NOTE 116, Page 200. 
 Mademoiselle de I'Orme. 
 
 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 uswal with men of 
 business having been observed to him, he is grown to think he is so." 
 Sydney's Works, p. 94. 
 
 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 
 leaving the ball-room, this haughty man, who owed a grudge to M. 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 hi consequence agreed on be-
 
 3 76 NOTES AND 
 
 twcen them to fight three against three ; and a spot being fixed upon, the 
 next morning was appointed for the 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 daybreak : 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 I 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. Agnan, the Marquis de Flammarin, the 
 Prince de Chalais, the Marquis de Noirmoustier, the Marquis d'Antin, 
 brother of Madame de Montespan, and the Viscomte d'Angelieu. 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. Xo 
 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- 
 '.elves. 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. o?7 
 
 durst mention it to the king ; even the Duke de St. Agnan, who was a good 
 deal about his 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 his way of thinking. This speech might be very appropriate in the 
 mouth of a courtier, who was endeavouring to gain the favour of his 
 prince by every possible means ; but very ill becoming a parent, who, in- 
 stead of blackening the transaction, should have felt it his duty to have re- 
 presented it in as favourable a light as possible. The relations of Messrs, 
 de la Frette acted differently ; they did not dare themselves to speak to the 
 king, but made use of every possible means to move bis 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 different 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 employed 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 affair, 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 would depart from the recommendation if he would but examine 
 into its consequences." 
 
 NOTE 118, Page 204. 
 Countess de la Sice. 
 
 This lady was the daughter of Caspar 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 
 /.retence of parting from her husband, who was a Protestant, and for 
 whom she had an invincible abhorrence ; which occasioned the queen to 
 say, " The Countess of Suze became a Catholic, that she might neither 
 meet her husband in this world nor the next." See Lacomle's Life of 
 Queen Christina. The countess died in 1673. 
 
 NOTE 119, Page 204. 
 Tambonneau. 
 
 I find this person mentioned in Memoirs of the Court of France, 8vo., 
 1702, pt. ii. p. 42.
 
 378 NOTES AND 
 
 NOTE 120, Page 205. 
 
 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 was 
 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'Xeile, 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, without 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 had 
 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 dignity 
 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. 94. [He is said to have
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. -379 
 
 died suddenly by poison, administered in a cup of ratafia.] He died at 
 Limerick, 5th August, 1691. 
 
 NOTE 121, Page 207. 
 
 One of these brothers was almoner to the queen. 
 This was Peter Talbot, whose character is drawn by Lord Clarendon in 
 terms not more favourable than those in which his brother is portrayed. 
 See Continuation of Clarendon, p. 363. 
 
 NOTE 122, Page 207. 
 
 the other teas called a lay-monk. 
 
 Thomas Talbot, a Franciscan 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. 963. 
 
 NOTE 123, Pcge 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. 362. 
 
 NOTE 124, 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 April 29, 1698. 
 
 NOTE 125, Page 209. 
 
 Sir Stephen Fox. 
 
 This gentleman is said to have been of a genteel family, settled at 
 Farley, in Wiltshire, 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-chamberlain of the king's household, at Paris, 
 about the year 1652, and continued in his majesty's service 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 appointed to the treasury ; which place he held until he 
 retired from public business, in 1701. By his first lady he had seTen 
 sons and three daughters; and by his second, whom he married in the
 
 GSO NOTES AND 
 
 year 1703, when he was seventy-six years of age, he had two sons, who 
 both afterwards became peers, Stephen, Earl of Ilchester, 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 years 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 hath 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, 1G72. 
 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 Silvias, and died 13th October, 1730. 
 
 NOTE 129, Page 216. 
 
 Mr. SHvius , 
 
 Afterwards Sir Gabriel Silvius. In Chamberlayne's Angliae 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.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS G81 
 
 lie- w::s afterwards knighted, and, 30th February, 1G80, was sent ambas- 
 ;>;idor to the Dukes of Brunswick and Lunenburgh. Lord Orford says, 
 iie was a native of Orange, and was attached to the princess-royal, after- 
 wards to the Duke of York. He also says, he was sent ambassador to 
 Denmark. 
 
 NOTE 130, Page 217. 
 
 Proffers. 
 
 Edward Progers, Esq., was a younger son of Philip Progers, Esq., of 
 the family of Garreddin, in Monmouthshire. His father was a colon; I 
 in the army, and equerry to James I. Edward was early introduced to 
 court, and, after having been page to Charles I., was made groom of the 
 bedchamber 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 information 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 embroidred sute) bring me a 
 plaine riding suite, with an innocent coate, the suites I haue for horse- 
 backe being so spotted and spoiled that they are not to be seene out of 
 this island. The lining of the coate, and the petit toies are referred to 
 your greate discretion, provided there want nothing when it comes to be 
 put on. I doe not remember there was a belt, or a hat-band, in your 
 directions for the embroiderd suite, and those are so necessarie as you 
 must not forget them. 
 
 " Jearsey, 14th 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. Brown's Miscellanea Aulica, 1702, p. 153. In the lampoons of 
 the times, particularly in those of Andrew Marvell, Mr. Progers is 
 described as one devoted to assist his master'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 
 eiiect 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 baild 
 a house in Bushy-park, near Hampton-court, on condition that, after 
 his deatk, it should revert to the crown. This was the house inhabited 
 by the late Earl of Hallifax. 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, sayn Le 
 Neve, " December 31st, or January 1st, 1713, aged ninety-six, of tr.e 
 anguish of catting teeth, he having cut four new teeth and had sc \eral
 
 382 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 Philippa, afterwards Mrs. Croxel, bore a strong 
 resemblance to Charles II. Monument a Anglicana, 1717, 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 Bouillon. 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 Katherine, 
 and afterwards lord -chamberlain to her majesty. Upon King James's 
 accession, he was admitted into the privy council, and was commancier- 
 iu-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 ,
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 383 
 
 Charles Sackville, who became the first Duke of Dorset. From the pen 
 of a satirist much dependence is not to be placed 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 " The Essay on Satire :" 
 
 " Thus Dorset, purring like a thoughtful cat, 
 Married ; 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 134, 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 ; which 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 puissc 
 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. Coley's State 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, part of the Royal Exchange was 
 let out in small stalls or shops, perhaps something like a modern bazaar, 
 ;ai'l was a favourite and fashionable resort of women of the highest rank.
 
 384 , NOTES AND 
 
 It is said that the Duchess of Tyrconnel, being reduced to absolute \vant 
 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 1706, 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 King 
 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 Lyttelton, 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, Pr.ge 230. 
 
 The Earl of Oxford fell in love with a handsome, graceful actress, 
 
 belonging to the duke's theatre. 
 
 This was Aubery de Yere, the last Earl of Oxford of that name, and 
 the twentieth and last earl of that family. He was chief justice 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 
 ttio county of Essex ; and lieutenant-general of the forces in the reign of
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 3S5 
 
 William III., and also knight of the garter. He died March 12th, 1702, 
 aged eighty years and upwards, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. 
 The author of a History of the English Stage, published by Carl, 1741, 
 8vo., says, that Mrs. Marshall, a celebrated actress, more known by the 
 name of Roxana, 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 Part of the Siege of Rhodes.' In this acted the fair and 
 famous comedian, called Roxalana, from the part she performed ; 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 the 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 138, Page 246. 
 
 The public was obliged to him for the prettiest, but, at the same time, 
 
 the worst actress in (he 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 Gibber declares, discharged the company at the end of 
 the first year, 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 Gibber'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 the stage was probably not much earlier than 
 1671 ; 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 Monimia 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 
 Drydcn, in his Preface to Cleomenes, "always excellent, has in this tra- 
 ge;Iv excelled herself, and gained a reputation beyond any woman I have 
 
 2 c
 
 386 NOTES 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." Ciller's 
 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 Ciller, 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 Phaedra, 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., Howe. 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 celebrated 
 Earl of Roscommon. 
 
 NOTE 140, Page 251. 
 Pitiful strolling actress. 
 Probablv Nell Gwyn. 
 
 NOTE 141, Page 251. 
 Immediately give her the title of duchess. 
 
 The title of Duchess of Cleveland was conferred on her 3rd August, 
 22 Charles II., 1670.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 38? 
 
 NOTE 142, Page 255. 
 The recent arrival of a famous German doctor. 
 
 Bishop Burnet confirms this account. " Being tinder an unlucky acci- 
 uent. which obliged him to keep out of the way, he disguised himself so, 
 that his nearest friends could not have known him, and set up in Tower- 
 street for an Italian mountebank, where he practised physic 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, town, 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 profitable. 
 
 " But as to all the former, they have been so erroneously practised by 
 many unlearned wretches, whom poverty and neediness, 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, i:\ 
 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, 
 ought I to be construed a true man. Who is the 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 ? 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, ana 
 yet but one, and that, 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 Tools ? 
 
 " 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 affairt ;
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 33.0 
 
 and the mountebank no doubt, if he thrives, is an errant politician in 
 physic. But that I may not prove too tedious, I 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 Idles Britan- 
 nica, or grand English disease, 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 originally 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, dropsies, 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 prove 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, and 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 
 jnake 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 or' 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 marvellous 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 comeliness ; 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 n. miracle art does there assist nature 
 in the preservation 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 the
 
 IU.CSTBAT1OX8. 
 
 face, you presently know both their ages to a year. I will, therefore, give 
 you such remedies, that, without destroying your complexion (as most of 
 your paints and daubings do), shall render them perfectly fair ; clearing 
 and preserving them from all spots, 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) tales away 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 physician, I 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 find 
 
 "Their humble servant, 
 
 " ALEXANDER BEXDO."] 
 
 NOTE 143, Page 257. 
 
 The best disguise they could think of, was to disyuisc themselves like 
 
 orange-girls. 
 
 These frolics appear to have been not unfrequent with persons of high 
 rank at this period. In a letter from Mr. Henshaw to Sir Robert Faston, 
 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 Dutohess of Buckingham, had 
 a frolick 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 fuire, 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 blesr, 
 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 NOTES AND 
 
 queen at dinner, knew her, and was proud of her knowledge. Tills soon 
 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 niaiy 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 cf wild frolic. In all this people were so disguised, that, 
 without being in the 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." /??- 
 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, though 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
 
 ILLUST11ATIONS. 393 
 
 honour enough : why should he venture a second time ? The duchess had 
 also given a strict charge to all the duke's servants, to do all they could to 
 hinder him to engage too far. When 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 passed between the duke and 
 Erounker, who was of his bed-chamber, and was then in waiting ; but he 
 cHine to Pen, 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 
 matter 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 Brounker, who said nothing. The duke denied he had given 
 "iiy such order. But he neither punished 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, 1667. " I hear to- 
 night that Mr. Brounker is turned away yesterday by the Duke of York, 
 for some bold words he was heard by Colonel Werden to say in the garden 
 the day the chancellor was with the king that he believed the king would 
 be hectored out of everything. 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 
 Wetenhall, of Hextall Court, near East Peckham, in the county of Kent. 
 See Collin'g Baronetage, p. 216. The family of Whetenhall, or Whet- 
 nail, was possessed of the estate of Hextall Court from the time of Henry 
 VIII. until within a few years past, 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 
 1663, 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 Tunlridge Wells, 8vo. 1776, p. 237. Mr.
 
 394 NOTES AM) 
 
 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 Spam." Arlington'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 offer to carry them into France." Arlington's Lettert, 
 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 1667. 
 
 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 
 ofTunlridge Wells, p. 43. 
 
 NOTE 149, Page 268. 
 
 Lord Muskerry. 
 
 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 (i. 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,
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 395 
 
 a younger son of the Earl of Burlington, a youth of great hope." Con- 
 tinuation of Clarendon's Life, p. 266. 
 
 NOTE 150, Page 268. 
 
 Summer-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 Walsingham , from whom it descended to his daughter 
 Frances, who married first Sir Philip Sydney ; secondly, the unfortunate 
 Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex ; and lastly, Richard de Burgh, Marquis 
 of Clanrickard. In Walker's History of Independence, we are told, 
 that " Somer-hill, a pleasant seat, worth one thousand pounds- a year, be- 
 longing to the Earl of St. Albaiv 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 earle 
 (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 : ''The 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 
 vvith four courts, E. W. N. S. The front court, through which is the grand 
 approach to the honse. 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 Smythe'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 
 Ttinlridye Wells and its Environs : printed for G. Pearch, Svo. 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. 341.
 
 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 
 nrst 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, 
 hud 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 
 superficies would leave the rest of the paper white. Communicating his 
 idea to Wallerant Vaillant, a painter whom he maintained, they made 
 several experiments, and at last invented a steel roller, cut with tools 
 to make teeth like a file or rasp, with projecting points, which effectually 
 produced the black grounds ; those being scraped away and diminished at 
 pleasure, left the gradations of light." 
 
 Evelyn, in his Diary, March 13, 1661, says : " This afternoon, Prince 
 Rupert shewed me with his own hands the new way of graving called 
 mezzotinto, which afterwards, by his permission, I published in my 
 history of Chalcography ; 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, 1664-5, 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 
 the mutineers, which was Prince Rupert, ' 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 
 excellent 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- 
 tame was sixty yards, and the feat was performed in the presence of 
 Charles I.] 
 
 NOTE 152, Page 2G9. 
 
 Hughes. 
 
 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 o e the Margrave of Bran-
 
 398 NOTES AND 
 
 denburgh, and afterwards of Queen Caroline, wife of Geo. IV., which 
 cost 25,000/. the building. From the dramatis pcrsonce to Tom 
 Essence, licensed 1676, we find Mrs. Hughes was then 011 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, Svo., 1735, p. 11, sub anno 1665, it 
 is said, Aug. 5, "His Royal Highness the Duke and his duchess came 
 down to York, 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. 
 
 [The feelings and situation of this woman about the beginning of the 
 last 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 oil that account went abroad. See 
 Continuation of Clarendon, p. 292. 
 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, 16th 
 June, 1644. from whence she was removed to London in 1646, 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 XIV. In May, 1760, 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 j 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'* 
 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, 1660, 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 156, 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, 1649, 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 Thomas 
 Ross, Esq., who was afterwards secretary to Mr. Coventry during his 
 embassy in Sweden. At the Restoration he was brought to England, and 
 received with joy by his father, who heaped honours and riches upon 
 him, which 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 disgrace 
 with his sovereign. On the accession of James II. he made an ineffectual 
 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 (z. 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. Hi. 
 
 [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 deliver 
 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 publish'd a declara- 
 tion, charging his ma'y with usurpation and several horrid crimes, on pre- 
 tence of his owne title, and offering to call a free parliament. This decla- 
 ration was ordcr'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 considerable 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 r \V m 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 1 Lord Feversham newly encamp'd, and given him a smart 
 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 takeu 
 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 bj 
 Ixjrd Lumley in a dry ditch cover'd with fern-brakes, but without sword,
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 40! 
 
 pistol, or any weapon, and so might have pass'd for some countryman, his 
 beard being grown so long and so grey as hardly to be known, had not his 
 George iliscover'd him, which was found in his pocket. 'Tis said he 
 trembTd exceedingly all over, not able to speake. Grey was taken not far 
 from him. Most of his party were Anabaptists and poore clothworkers of 
 y e country, no gentlemen of account being come in to him. The arch- 
 boutefen Ferguson, Matthews, &c. 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 r W m Portman and Lord Lumley. 
 The battail ended, some words, first in jest, then in passion, pass'd between 
 Sherrington Talbot (a worthy gent n , son to S r John Talbot, and who had 
 behav'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 
 before the king, to whom he made great submission, acknowledged his 
 seduction by Ferguson the Scot, whom he nam'd y e bloudy villain. He 
 was sent to y c Tower, had an interview with his late dutchesse, whom he 
 receiv'd coldly, having lived dishonestly with y e Lady Henrietta Went- 
 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 lit to administer the Holy Communion to him. For y e rest of his 
 faults he profess'd greate sorrow, and so died without any apparent feare ; 
 he 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 ch so inccns'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 ck 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 e 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 1 ?' 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 Bath 
 and Wells, were sent to him by his rna'r, and were at the execution. 
 
 "Thus ended this quondam duke, darling of his father and y e ladies, being 
 extreamly handsome and adroit ; an excellent souldier and dancer, a fa- 
 vourite of the people, of an easy nature, debauched by lust, seduc'd by 
 crafcy 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 
 party of discontented men. He fail'd, and perish'd. 
 
 '' He was a lovely person, had a virtuous and excellent lady that brought 
 him greate 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, had ac- 
 cumulations without end. See what ambition and want of principles brought 
 
 2 ;
 
 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 scene at Paris ; she died miserably without 
 any thing to bury her ; yet this 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 cost solemnly renounc'd it, to be so enter'd 
 in the council booke some yeares since, with all the privy councellors 
 attestLticn."] 
 
 XOTE 157, Page 295. 
 
 An heiress of five 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, 1C73. 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, 
 1683, 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 138, Page 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. Me married Mrs. Cecilia Cvofts, 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-
 
 ILLUSTUATIO.V.'-i. 403 
 
 chants tor his own subsistence ; which he did, and nothing to the honour 
 of his master ; but was at last compelled to leave the republic 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 cf verses, printed in his works, bantering 
 the foibles of his friend Killegrew ; who, from his account, was as little 
 sensible to the miseries of exile as his royal master. His attachment to 
 the interests of Charles II. continued unabated, and at the Restoration he 
 was ap pointed groom of the bed-chamber, and became so great a favourite 
 with his majesty, that he was admitted into his company on terms cf 
 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. Clays 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, tie died at Whitehall, 19th 
 March, 1G82, bewailei, 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 tne stage, 
 and so ge* to see plays." He also says in his Diary, Dec. 9th, 1666 : 
 " 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 his 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 lips 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.' " Again, Feb. 12th, 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 Slbs. 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 all 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 times, 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 he hath ever endeavoured in the late kbig'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, ' I positively will go !' He kept his word, and the wager was 
 won."] 
 
 NOTE 159, Page 298. 
 
 The Duke of Buckingham and Lady Shrewsbury remained for a long 
 
 period both happy and contented. 
 
 In a letter from Andrew Marvell, dated August 9, 3671, 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." 3iar- 
 vcll's Works, vol. i. p. 406. The duel in which the Earl of Shrewsbury 
 was killed by the Duke of Buckingham happened 16th March, 1GG7. 
 
 NOTE 160, Page 299. 
 The Duchess of Buckingham. 
 
 " Mary, Duchess of Buckingham, was the only daughter of Tl.omas. 
 Lord Fairfax, and Anne, the daughter of Hontce, Lord Vere ; a most vu-
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 405 
 
 tuous and pious lady, in a vicious age and court. If she had any of the 
 vanities, she had certainly none of the vices of it. The duke and she lived 
 lovingly and decently together ; she patiently bearing with those faults 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 VII. 's chapel, anno 1705, setat. 66." Brian 
 Fairfax's Life of the Duke of Buckingham, 4to. 1758, p. 39. She was 
 married at Nun Appleton, September 0, 1657. 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 Langbaiue, by a gentleman, 
 still living, we are told that the old Lady Viscountess de Longueville, 
 grandmother to the Earl of Sassex, who died in 1763, 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 have 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 laced with gold. 
 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. 
 
 It would le advisable for her to try the warm baths at Bristol. 
 
 I believe that Bath, not Bristol, is the place intended by the author. 
 Queen Katharine's visit to the former place was earlier than to Tunbridge, 
 being about the latter end of September, 1663. 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 Jarnes, Duke of 
 York, and his duchess, and Prince Rupert, &c., came to Bristol, and 
 were 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, Sec. of Bristol, p. 692.
 
 40'J NOTES AND 
 
 r 
 NOTE 162, Page 305. 
 
 Campaign in Guinea. 
 
 This expedition was intended to have taken place in 1G64. 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 Visoount 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 3 1st" 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 Maryborough. He was born 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. The History of Rivclla, 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 illiterate, wrote bad English, and spelled it still worse. He had 
 no share of what is commonly called parts ; that is, he had no brightness, 
 nothing shining in his genius. He had, most undoubtedly, an excellent
 
 1LLUSTHATIOKS. 407 
 
 good plain understanding, with sound judgment. But tuese alone would 
 probably have raised him but something higher than they found him, 
 which was page to King James II.'s queen. There the graces protected 
 and promoted him ; for while he was an ensign cf 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 Heinsius, 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 always 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 166, 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 
 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, sold 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 1663. The first notice I find of her is in the year
 
 408 M)TKS AND 
 
 16(58, 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 like 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 like 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 
 Deemed 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 calling 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 life, 
 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 Edw. Dering, Sir Stephen Fox, &c.l 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 mistress. 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 charge than any other of those ladies who were in the same state of 
 preferment : she never meddled in matters of serious moment, or was the 
 tool of working 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 her rivals 
 were by their titles and grandeur." Gibber's Apology, 8vo., p. 450. 
 One of Madame Sevigne's letters exhibits no bad portrait of Mrs. Gwyn. 
 " Mademoiselle de K (Kerouaille, afterwards Duchess of Ports- 
 mouth) has not been disappointed in any thing 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 the 
 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 quality : 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 : I 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 Pali-Mall. It is the first good one on the left hand of St. 
 James's square, as we enter from Pali-Mall. 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 1691, 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 preferment ; 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 ne?er have been induced to speak well of her." Life of Dr. Tho- 
 mas Tennison, p. 20. Gibber 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 ; Colley 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 childish 
 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
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 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 prologue, prefixed, I think, to 
 Aurengzebe. At the rival theatre (viz. the Duke's, under Killegrew's 
 patent), Nokes had appeared in a hat larger than Pistol's, which gave 
 the town wonderful delight, and supported a bad play 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 mignonne et piquanie, he made her speak under the 
 umbrella of tlvtt hat, 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 prince alive ' was in at 
 such a conjuncture. It was beyond ' odds ' and ' odsfish ;' 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 Portsmouth, 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 pities his majesty had not bestowed this bounty on Madam 
 Ellen." 
 
 " 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, 
 
 ' \Vhen 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 ineumbered with the dignity of his state, he chose frequently to 
 throw cff 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 tavern together, where they regaieu 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 scandalized 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 1 
 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 
 :n Sir William Davenant's own hous.., and was on the stage as early as 
 16G4, her nams 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 Fletchsr and Shak- 
 speare, in 1663 ; 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, 1673; married in Au- 
 gust, 1687, to Francis Ratcliffe, Earl of Derwentwater. Burnet says, 
 Mis.s Davis did not keep her hold on the king long; which may be 
 doubted, as her daughter was born four years after she was first noticed 
 by his majesty. 
 
 [Pepys thus speaks of her in his Diary, March 7th, 1666-7. " To 
 the duke's playhouse, where little Miss Davis did dance a jig after the 
 end of the play, in boy's clothes ; and the truth 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 the other." Jan. llth, 
 1C67-8. " 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 
 GOO/." Jan. 14th. " Miss Davis is now the most impertinent siutin the 
 world ; anc 1 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 the king : 
 but Pierce says that she is a most homely jade as ever he saw, though she 
 dances beyond any thing in the world." A story is told that Lady Castle- 
 maine (Granger says it was Nell Gwynn) administered jalap at supper to 
 Mary Davis ou 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 1G8, Page 312. 
 Chiffinch. 
 
 The name of this person occurs very often in the secret history of this 
 reign. Wood, in enumerating the king's supper companions, says, they 
 meet " either in the lodgings of Lodovisa, Duchess of Portsmouth, or in 
 those of Cheffing (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." Atkerus 
 
 O.ro;j. vol. ii. 1038. So great was the confidence reposed in him, that 
 he was the receiver of the secret pensions paid by the court of France 
 tc the King of England. See (he Luke of Leeds' 's Letters, 1710, p. 9, 
 17, 33. 
 
 Chiffinch's more important duties are intimated in the beginning 
 of a satirical poem of the time entitled " Sir Edmondbury 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 shape of Godfrey did appear," &c. 
 
 [His character is vrell drawn in Sir Walter Scott's novel of" Peveril of 
 the Teak.'']
 
 414 NOTES AND 
 
 NOTE 169, Page 314. 
 Miss Stewart having a little recovered, &cc. 
 
 See Bishop Burnet's account of Miss Stewart's marriage, in his History 
 of his own Timts, vol. i. p. 353. 
 
 [Pepys thus relates the marriage in his Diary, April 2Gth, 1607 : 
 " 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 auy 
 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 live comfortably in the country on his estate. She told this lord 
 that al! 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 G.OOO/., 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 ; tor 
 he never was known to keep two mistresses in his life, and would never 
 have icept 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 1644 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, 1664, N.S. says, " We have certain intelligence 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." Fans/law'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. '2'2~>. 
 
 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 The 
 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- 
 inont, 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 short 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,\o\. 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 
 raeritt 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." Dalrymple'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. Hereupon 
 
 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 1'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 I 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 St. 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 1'Enclos, says, " They talk here as if the 
 
 Count de Grammont was dead, which touches me with a very sensible 
 
 grief." St. Evremond's WorAf, vol. iii. p. 39. And the same lady, in
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 417 
 
 her r.nswer, says, "Madame de Coulange has undertaken to make your 
 compliments to the Count de Grammont, by the Countess de Grammont. 
 He is so young, that I think him as light as when he hated sick people, 
 and loved them after they had recovered their health." St. Evretnotul's 
 Works, p. 59. 
 
 At length Count de Grammont, after along life, died, the 10th January, 
 1 707, at the age of eighty-six years. 
 
 See a letter from St. Evremond to Count de Grammont on the death of 
 his brother, Count de Toulongeon. &t. Erremond's Works, TO!. : i.
 
 PERSONAL HISTORY OF CHARLES IT. 
 
 Compiled from various avihentic sources. 
 
 PRINCE CHARLES, the second son of Charles I. and 
 Henrietta Maria of France, was born at St. James's, May 
 29th, 1630, at one o'clock in the afternoon. According to 
 Rushwortb, 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 seemed 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 high 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 elder brother, born the year previously, 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 was installed with the 
 usual ceremonies at Windsor. 
 
 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 unaccountable fondness for a 
 
 wooden billet, without which in his arms he would never go 
 
 2 B 2
 
 420 PEIISO.NAL IIISTOUY OP 
 
 abroad, or lie down in his bed ; from which the more observ- 
 ing sort of people 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 to take it at all ; the Earl of Newcastle (who had 
 been appointed his governor or guardian in 1638) was obliged 
 to apply to his*nother, 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 ln's im- 
 provement; and with the exception of Mr. JTobbcs, 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 the
 
 CilAKLES IT. 4?1 
 
 jieriod. In 1642, when he was only twelve years old. the 
 kin:_ r made him captain of a troop of horse, and he was shortly 
 .-ifterwards present at the battle of Edge-hill. During the 
 action, the prince and his brother, the Duke of York, were 
 confided to the care of the celebrated Dr. William Harvey 
 (the discoverer of the circulation of the blood). . According 
 to Aubrey, the studious physician withdrew with them under 
 the shelter of a hedge, and, regardless of the din of battle, 
 took a book from his pocket, and became lost in meditation ; 
 a cannon-ball, however, striking the earth near them, soon 
 made the party shift to safer quarters. 
 
 In March, 1645, the youug Prince of Wales was created, 
 at Oxford, generalissimo of all his father's forces in England; 
 and a council being appointed to direct him by their advice, 
 he was despatched into the west ; though neither council nor 
 army seem to have executed any thing of consequence. Here 
 he found Sir Thomas Fairfax, at the head of the parlia- 
 mentary troops, everywhere victorious ; and the king, his 
 father, after placing in the hands of the queen the absolute 
 and full power of the prince's education in all things except 
 religion, commanded him, in case he was closely pressed, to 
 
 .ue to France, where his mother was then residing. The 
 necessity of flight was soon apparent ; accordingly, the young 
 prince left Pendeuuis, accompanied by his council, and pro- 
 ceeded to the islands of Scilly, which were still devoted to the 
 royal cause. Here he remained about six weeks, during 
 which period he received an invitation from Parliament to 
 return, for at that time they not only wished well to him, 
 but were desirous of a reconciliation with the king, his 
 father. The prince, however, was not to be prevailed upon ; 
 and leaving Scilly in September, 1646, went to Jersey, and 
 thence to France, where he joined the queen, his mother, 
 and it is said, during his brief stay there, met the accustomed 
 treatment of an exiled and dependent prince. Clarendon adds, 
 4t He was governed by his mother with such strictness, that 
 though his highness was above the age of seventeen, he 
 never put his hat on before the queen, or had above ten 
 pistoles in his pocket." 
 
 In 1648 several commotions broke out in England and 
 and the Duke of Hamilton, having raised an aru:y
 
 422 1'IiHSONAL HISTORY OP 
 
 of Scots for the service of the king, and prepared to invade 
 England, it was thought advisable that the prince should 
 hold himself in readiness to take the command. He accord- 
 ingly left Paris with his small retinue, and reached Calais 
 \vhence he departed for Holland, followed by Lord Cotting- 
 ton, the Earl of Bristol, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer. 
 He arrived there at a most opportune moment, for a revolt 
 of ten ships in the parliamentary fleet, under Admiral Rains- 
 borough, took place at that very time, which, after landing 
 their officers, approached Holland ; and the prince having 
 met them at Helvoetsluys, they placed themselves under hi* 
 command, and he immediately sailed for the Downs. 
 
 But this, like every previous attempt for the restoration of 
 king Charles, proved in vain, through the abilities of those who 
 opposed him. The fleet under the command of the prince wa 
 compelled, after taking a few prizes, to retire again to Holland 
 before the enemy; and the Duke of Hamilton was defeated 
 by Cromwell, taken prisoner, and afterwards beheaded. In 
 the meantime the king was seized and brought up to London 
 prisoner, and a day was appointed for his trial ; which 
 .so alarmed the prince, that he prevailed upon the States of 
 Holland to intercede for his father, and even sent a letter to 
 Fairfax himself, offering to Parliament their own terms. 
 No attention, however, was paid to him, and the king was 
 condemned and executed at Whitehall, on the 30th of 
 January, 1648, to the consternation of all his partisans. 
 And that the hopes of the Prince of Wales might be entirely 
 cut off, all persons were forbidden to declare, publish, or 
 promote him, or any other person, to be king or chief magis- 
 irate of England or Ireland, without consent of Parliament; 
 the House cf Peers was declared useless and dangerous, and 
 the kingly office itself utterly abolished. A commonwealth 
 v,-as erected, and all persons imposed to be true and faithful 
 to it, without king or House of Lords. 
 
 During the prince's residence in Holland, his condition 
 was miserable in the extreme. A mutiny spread through 
 his fleet from want of pay, whilst continual factions not only 
 divided his followers, but exposed himself and his council to 
 ''.i sad vantage and disrespect. Clarendon relates an account 
 'quarrel between Prince Rupert and Lord Colepepper, in
 
 -jiiAiiLKs ii. 423 
 
 which the latter challenged his highness in open council. 
 They had disagreed about an agent for the sale of some 
 prizes taken by the fleet, Prince Rupert proposing one Sir 
 Robert Walsh, a person too well known to be trusted in such 
 an afl'air ; and Lord Colepepper declaring this Walsh to be a 
 well-known cheat, which Prince Rupert immediately took as 
 reflecting upon himself. The consequence was, that though 
 a reconciliation was at length effected through the inter- 
 ference of the Lord Chancellor, yet Walsh, meeting Lord 
 Colepepper a few days after, and having heard what had 
 taken place, struck him with his fist a severe blow in the 
 face, which confined Colepepper to his bed for several days. 
 The Prince of Wales immediately applied to the Statea for 
 justice, and AValsh was banished from the Hague; but Cla- 
 rendon says that this unhappy business was most injurious 
 to his interests. 
 
 Upon the execution of his unfortunate father, Charles was 
 proclaimed king of Scotland by the Parliament of the nation ; 
 who resolved to send a committee to invite him thither, on 
 condition of his giving satisfaction concerning the security of 
 religion, the union of the two kingdoms, and the good and 
 peace of that kingdom, according to the National Covenant, 
 and the Solemn League and Covenant. These conditions were 
 extremely unacceptable to Charles and his counsellors, for 
 they hated both the Covenant and the Scottish nation. The 
 prince was also proclaimed king in Ireland by the Marquis 
 of Ormonde, who had made peace with the Irish rebels, and 
 had the best part of that kingdom under his subjection ; and 
 there Charles hoped to enjoy his own will without restraint, 
 and be assisted, on his own terms, to recover his other domi- 
 nions. But in this he was disappointed ; for Cromwell, after 
 subduing Ormonde and his confederates, at length brought 
 Ireland entirely under the rule of the English common- 
 wealth. 
 
 In the meantime, the continual disturbances among the 
 newly-proclaimed king's followers, compelled him to leave 
 the Hague ; and accordingly, in 1G49, having passed through 
 Breda, Antwerp, and Brussels, he again joined his mother at 
 Paris. But the terror of the English Parliament had ex- 
 tended to the continent, and the French betrayed some uneasi-
 
 4- -I PERSONAL HISTORY OF 
 
 ness at his visit. It was deemed prudent, therefore, that he 
 should pass over to Jersey, where he was still acknowledged 
 king ; and he accordingly departed in September of the same 
 year, accompanied by a small retinue of 300 followers, and 
 only as many pistoles in his purse. His sojourn here was 
 rendered very brief, by the intelligence that Parliament was 
 preparing a powerful fleet to reduce the island to obedience ; 
 Charles was, therefore, agaiu compelled to seek safety in 
 flight. While in Jersey he had been once more invited to 
 Scotland upon the old conditions, upon which he appointed 
 to meet the commissioners at Breda, in Holland, where, after 
 a narrow escape from a storm, he arrived, and, submitting to 
 their terms, embarked on the 23rd of June, 1650, for Scot- 
 land. Here, in the Frith of Cromarty, before he was per- 
 mitted to land, he was required to sign the Covenant ; and 
 many sermons and lectures were made to him, exhorting him 
 to persevere in that holy confederacy. 
 
 In Scotland the king's situation was mortifying in the 
 extreme. He was obliged to submit to many restraints, and 
 practise a dissimulation quite contrary to his real inclina- 
 tions. He found himself considered a mere pageant of state ; 
 and he was required to issue a declaration, in which he 
 lesired to be humbled and afflicted in spirit, because of his 
 father's wicked measures ; and to lament the idolatry of his 
 mother, and the toleration of it in his father's house ; whilst 
 he professed to have no enemies but the enemies of the 
 Covenant. 
 
 At this period the English army, headed by Cromwell in 
 person, to the number of 16,000 men, were in full march 
 towards Scotland, and soon passed the border. The command 
 of the Scottish troops had been given to Lesley, an experienced 
 officer, who resisted every temptation to a battle, till, by skir- 
 mishes and small encounters, he had confirmed the confidence 
 of his soldiers. The young king frequently visited the camp, 
 ;md, by his spirits and vivacity, soon gained on the affections 
 of the soldiery ; but the clergy became alarmed at this dis- 
 play of levity, and he was ordered to leave it ; they also 
 commenced purging the army of all ungodly characters ; and 
 at last, when an advantage offered itself, on a Sunday, they 
 very zealously hindered L?.lev from involving the r.ntiun i::
 
 CI1AULKS II. 4'JJ 
 
 &abbath-breaking. But notwithstanding the nights and days 
 that the ministers wrestled with the Lord in prayer, as they 
 termed it, and notwithstanding their revelations, that the 
 sectarian and heretical army, together with Agag (Crom- 
 well), was delivered into their hands, they were completely 
 defeated by Cromwell at Duribar, on the 3rd of September, 
 
 1650, and, according to Hume, about 3,000 were slain, and 
 (5,000 taken prisoners ; and nothing but the approach of the 
 winter season, and an ague which seized Cromwell, kept him 
 from pushing the victory further. 
 
 The defeat of the Scots was considered by the king as a 
 fortunate event, as they were now obliged to give him more 
 authority, and many of his personal adherents, who had been 
 purged from the army under the pretence of being malignants, 
 were once more admitted ; but the clergy made great lamen- 
 tations, and projected a humiliation or penance for the king. 
 This, however, was changed into the ceremony of his coro- 
 nation, which was performed at Scone, on the 1st of January, 
 
 1651, with great pomp and solemnity. But amidst all this 
 appearance of respect, Charles remained in the hands of the 
 most rigid Covenanters, and was little better than a prisoner, 
 exposed to all the rudeness and pedantry of the ecclesiastics. 
 
 Respecting his conduct and adventures while under this 
 constraint, Hume furnishes the following interesting particu- 
 lars : " This young prince," he says, " was in a situation 
 which very ill suited his temper aud disposition. All thoi-o 
 good qualities which he possessed, his affability, his wit, his 
 gaiety, his gentleman-like, disengaged behaviour, were here so 
 many vices ; and his love of ease, liberty, and pleasure, was 
 regarded as the highest enormity. Though artful in the 
 practice of courtly dissimulation, the sanctified style was 
 utterly unknown to him, and he never could mould his 
 deportment into that starched grimace which the Covenanters 
 required as an infallible mark of conversion. The Duke of 
 Buckingham was the only English courtier allowed to attend 
 him ; and, by his ingenious talent for ridicule, he had 
 rendered himself extremely agreeable to his master. While 
 .so many objects of derision surrounded them, it was difficult 
 to be altogether insensible to the temptation, aud wholly to 
 s the laugh. Obliged to attend from morning till night
 
 426 TEKSONAL HISTORY OF 
 
 at sermons, they betrayed evident symptoms of weariness or 
 contempt. The clergy never could esteem the king suffi- 
 ciently regenerated : and by continual exhortations, remon- 
 strances, and reprimands, they still endeavoured to bring 
 him to a juster sense of iiis spiritual duty. 
 
 " The king's passion for the fair could not be altogether 
 restrained. He had once been observed to use some fami- 
 liarities with a young woman ; and a committee of ministers 
 was appointed to reprove him for a behaviour so unbecoming 
 a covenanted monarch. The spokesman of the committee, 
 one Douglas, began with a severe aspect, informed the king 
 that great scandal had been given to the godly, enlarged on 
 the heinous nature of the sin, and concluded with exhorting 
 his majesty, whenever he was disposed to amuse himself, to 
 be more careful for the future, in shutting the windows. 
 This delicacy, so unusual to the place, and to the character 
 of the man, was regarded by the king, and he never forgot 
 the obligation." 
 
 These indignities and formalities could not fail to disgust 
 the king beyond all power of endurance. On one occasion 
 he actually made his escape towards the Highlands ; but 
 Colonel Montgomery being sent in pursuit of him with a 
 troop of horse, prevailed on him to return ; and this incident 
 procured him better treatment, and more authority. 
 
 As soon as the season was sufficiently advanced for further 
 action, Charles was permitted to head the Scottish army, and 
 being strongly intrenched, with the town of Stirling at his 
 back, he resisted every attempt to bring him to an engage- 
 ment. Cromwell, however, harassed him on every side, and 
 was at length enabled to cut oft' his provisions. Charles, 
 reduced to despair, embraced a resolution worthy of a young 
 prince struggling for empire. Havng the way open, he 
 resolved to march into the heart of England ; and accord- 
 ingly, with the consent of his generals, he advanced with his 
 whole army of 14,000 men towards the south. 
 
 Cromwell, though taken aback by this movement, imme- 
 diately left Monk in Scotland, and hastened to follow the 
 king. Charles, who in the meantime had hoped to be joined 
 by great numbers, found himself deceived ; such was the 
 prevailing terror of the parliamentary forces. He continued,
 
 CIIAKL::S n. 427 
 
 however, his march to "Worcester, where Cromwell fell upon 
 him with an army of 30,000 men, on the 3rd of September, 
 1651, and a battle ensued, in which the king was so com- 
 pletely defeated that, in the opinion of both his friends and 
 foes, all hopes of possessing the throne of his fathers seemed 
 for ever lost. For the particulars of this disastrous battle, 
 and his subsequent escapes and adventures, which are unex- 
 ampled, perhaps, for stirring incident, in the annals of ro- 
 mance, see the account given by himself some years after to 
 Pepys, then secretary to the Admiralty, as well as the con- 
 temporary narratives called the Boscolcl Tracts, all of which 
 are appended to the present volume, and are the most au- 
 thentic sources of this eventful portion of Charles's history. 
 
 We will only here observe, that his fortunate concealment 
 in the old oak in Boscobel Wood, is still commemorated an- 
 nually on the 29th of May, by the wearing of oak leaves and 
 apples, which are sold about the streets, decorated with gold 
 leaf. 
 
 After the many hair-breadth escapes, so fully detailed in 
 
 these narratives, Charles arrived in France, in the latter end 
 
 of November, 1G51, where he remained for nearly three years, 
 
 very poor condition, lie had a small and insufficient pen- 
 
 from the French court ; and Clarendon says, he had not 
 
 lit 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 -\vas obliged to leave Paris, and 
 passing through Flanders, settled in Cologne. AVhile 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 9,000/. 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 was
 
 42S I'EUS'JNAL IIISTORV OF 
 
 u 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 their 
 designs; and the Protector projected with Thurloe, that 
 AVillis 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 Thurloe s 
 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 poignard 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 iu 
 Flanders ; 
 
 " I doe acknowledge to have receaved the summe of one hundred pounds 
 sterling, which I doe promis to repay as soon as I am able. Bruges. 
 
 " 21 Decem. 1657. " CHARLES R."
 
 CHARLES II. 420 
 
 joct for disagreement. Carte relates the following incident 
 v, Iiich occurred there: "One of the king's followers, a 
 Scotch knight of the name of Maxwell, lodged in the house 
 of a citizen of the town, who, being zealously affected to 
 Charles's cause, gave him his lodging and diet gratis. 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 with him more. He kept his word for a whole day, fast- 
 ing all that time ; but it not agreeing over well with his con- 
 stitution, he consulted with his friend the Marquis of Ormonde, 
 vhat he should do. ' Really,' said the Marquis, with great 
 gravity, ' all the advice I 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, " We 
 ore 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, "My wife is ready to lie in, and 
 all things wanting." 
 
 Throughout, however, the whole of this period, Charles's 
 love of pleasure and admiration of women were predominant. 
 Lady Byron is spoken of by Fepys as his " seventeenth mis- 
 tress abroad," and his connection with the beautiful Lucy 
 Walters, with Mrs. Elizabeth Killigrew, Mrs. Catherine Peg, 
 o. &c., had a most injurious effect upon his character and 
 cause. In T/turloc'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 complains 
 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 supported 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 matrimonial settlement, though -he was as often disap- 
 poirted. From Orrery's /State Papers, and other sources, wo 
 learn that the first lady to whom he offered himself was n<> 
 otiier than Frances Cromwell, the youngest daughter of the
 
 430 PERSONAL HISTORY OF 
 
 Protector; and the consent of the lady and her mother \va.=! 
 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 hi.s 
 father ; besides, he is so damnably debauched, he cannot be 
 trusted." He afterwards proposed to marry Hortensia, 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 appears 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,
 
 C1IAHLE3 II. 431 
 
 having enjoined his little court to plead indisposition as the 
 cause of his seclusion, he stole away, and making 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 
 Downing, 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 homo, 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. Richard 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 Richard, 
 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, 1659.* A council of officers 
 
 * An old pamphlet, printed within a month of the time, viz. in May, 
 
 1659,
 
 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. Who 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-wittecl 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 tlie 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. 4o3 
 
 cashieied 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, 
 solemn fast was kept, the usual prelude to signal violence. 
 At this period the wily and cautious Monk stepped 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 
 impenetrable, and with only a single friend, a Devonshire 
 gentleman named Morrice, 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 Monk, during which, finding the king's messenger to be 
 a person of trust, the general communicated his whole inten- 
 tions, but would only deliver a verbal message. He assured 
 Charles that he would die, or bring him home to his royal 
 inheritance, and advised him to quit 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 the 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 May, 1660, the two houses attended, and 
 the king was proclaimed \vith great solemnity, in Palace- 
 yard, at Whitehall, and at Temple-bar. The Commons 
 voted 5007. 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 ths government ;
 
 434 PERSONAL, HISTORY OF 
 
 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 Shoveling. 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 29th, 1G60. 
 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 triumph 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
 
 CHARLES II. 435 
 
 mayor, aldermen, and all the companies in their liveries, chains 
 of gold, and banners ; lords and nobles clad in cloth of silver, 
 gold, and velvet; the windows and balconies all set with 
 kidies ; trumpets, -music, and myriads of people flocking, 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. 
 
 " I 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 rebelled 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, women, and children to see his majesty and kiss 
 his 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, that 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 6th, 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 the 
 throne, where 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 come 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 the}' pass, whilst the first chaplain repeats, ' That 
 
 2 P 2
 
 436 PERSONAL HISTORY OF 
 
 is the true light who came into the world.' Then follows an 
 epistle (as tit 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, 1661, and 
 married to Catherine of Braganza, the Infanta of Portugal, on 
 the 21st of May, 1662. 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 TValpole, 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 500,000^. 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
 
 437 
 
 with a fleet to take possession of Tangier, and directed to 
 visit Portugal on his return and conduct the queen to England. 
 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 pay the residue within the year. This was 
 a most perplexing 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 
 aifair 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 
 queen-regent 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, Reresby, in his 
 Memoirs, says: "On the 19th of May, 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 splendid, 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 the charms of the Countess of Castlemaine (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 stifle 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 HISTOKY OF 
 
 Iier 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 Iier 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 was 
 !:i.s wife, and had no children by him, which was no fault of 
 hers." 
 
 From the A*ery commencement of Charles's reign, his thought- 
 less and reckless profusion was continually involving him in 
 difficulties ; and one of his first unpopular acts was the sale 
 >f Dunkirk, in I G62, 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,
 
 CIJAKLI:S 11. 430 
 
 that the matter was debated by the king and a secret committee ; 
 and that besides the king's straits, they were influenced bv 
 the following reasons. 1. That the profit which accrued from 
 the keeping of Dunkirk was very inconsiderable. 2. That 
 the charge of maintaining it, besides any accidents it might 
 receive from the enemy, amounted to above 120,000?. per 
 annum. 3. That if Dunkirk 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 1663, a rupture with Holland took place, and in 1667, 
 a Dutch fleet entered the Thames, and proceeding up the 
 Medway, burned and destroyed ships as far as Chatham. In 
 1665, the dreadful plague raged in London, which swept away 
 97,309 persons. Reresby says, " It was a common thing for 
 people to drop down in the streets as they went about their 
 business." In 1666, the great fire 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 displayed 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 Clifford, 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 
 \vas 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 
 
 tors of their names happened to compose. In 1 671, 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, Charles 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 for the Crown, and I considered it no 
 harm to recover it by 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 ti 
 pardon, but, no doubt, for some stronger reason, which lias 
 never transpired, gave him an estate of 500?. 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 depriA r ation of the badges of his 
 office. Shalte.sbury, 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
 
 CHARLES II. 441 
 
 him to chapel, and send them to him afterwards from his 
 house, in order that he might not appear to be dismissed with 
 contempt. " Codsfish,'' replied Charles, " I will not do it 
 with any circumstance 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, ns 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 he, " 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, William, Prince of Orange, came to England, with 
 proposals for marrying the Princess Mary (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- 
 pany ; 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 mistress, 
 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 diffused 
 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 OP 
 
 and bis 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. 
 lie 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, 
 Gates 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 had 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 Gates, accause Catherine, Queen of England, 
 of haigh traison !" 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 Gates, during a space 
 of upwards of two years. The last victim was the unfortu- 
 nate Viscount Stafford, who was beheaded on the 29th of 
 December, 1680; and his execution may be looked upon as 
 the concluding scene of this shameful and barbarous delusion. 
 In 1683, Gates 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 imprisoned for 
 life. After the Revolution, however, he appears to have been 
 released, and, strange to say, received a pension of 400/. per 
 a nn u in from William of Orange.
 
 CHARLES II. 443 
 
 The king, throughout the whole period of his reign, was at 
 variance with his Parliament. His profuse expenditure upon 
 his mistresses obliged him to be continually applying for 
 money, and so little could they depend upon him, that he was 
 said to have retained a large portion of the sum which the 
 Commons had voted for carrying on the war with Holland, 
 and a motion was brought forward for examining the accounts. 
 For all this he was frequently reduced to great necessity. 
 Pepys tells us, that at one time he was actually in want of 
 linen ; and a Mr. Townsend, the wardrobe-man, told him that 
 the linen-draper was owed 5,000/., and the grooms, being un- 
 able to get their fees, took away the king's linejj,at the quar- 
 ter's end ; and yet, at this very period, his mistress, the 
 Duchess of Cleveland, is reported to have lost in gaming 
 
 '00^. on a single night. 
 
 Charles, however, could jest upon his difficulties. He once 
 asked Still ingfleet 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 1681, 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 ' 
 discovered, which was followed by the melancholy execution 
 of Lord Russell 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 Jefferies 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
 
 44-1- ri.IiiO.XAL IIJWTOUY OF 
 
 melancholy, and not stirring without clouhle 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. "Welwood 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-
 
 CHARLES II. 445 
 
 lution, and presence of mind of the doctor, to let him blood in 
 the very paroxysm, without staying the coming of the other 
 physicians, which regularly should have been done, and for 
 want of which he must have a regular pardon (which was 
 afterwards granted). This rescued his majesty for the instant, 
 but it was a short reprieve. On Wednesday he was cupped, 
 let blood in both jugulars, had both vomit and purges, which 
 so relieved him that on Thursday hopes of recovery were sig- 
 nified in the public 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, complaining of a 
 pain in his side, they drew twelve ounces more blood from 
 him ; this was by six in the morning on Friday, 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 
 conflicts, 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 and Wells. It is said they 
 lingly urged upon him the receiving the Holy Sacra- 
 ment, but his majesty told them he would consider of it, 
 which he did so long till it was to late. Others whispered 
 that the bishops and lords, except the Earls of Bath and 
 Feversham, being ordered to withdraw the night before, 
 Hurlston (Huddleston) the priest had presumed to administer 
 the popish offices. He gave his breeches and keys to the 
 Duke of York, who was almost continually kneeling by his * 
 bed-side, and in tears. He also recommended to him the care 
 of his natural children, all except the Duke of Monmouth, now 
 in Holland, and in his displeasure. He entreated the queen 
 to pardon him (not without cause) ; who a little before had 
 sent a bishop to excuse her not more frequently visiting him, 
 on account of her excessive grief, and withal that his majesty
 
 44G PERSONAL HISTORY OF 
 
 would forgive her if at any time she had offended him. ' Alas ! 
 poor lady,' exclaimed Charles, ' she beg my pardon ! I beg hers, 
 with all my heart/ He spake to the Duke of York to be 
 kind to the Duchess of Cleveland, and especially Portsmouth, 
 and added, 'Let not poor Nelly starve.'" 
 
 A page or two further, Evelyn remarks, " I can ne. ver forget 
 the inexpressible luxury and profaneness, gaming, and all dis- 
 soluteness, and as it were total forgetfulness of God (it being 
 Sunday evening) which this day se'nnight I was witness of, 
 the king sitting and toying with his concubines, Portsmouth, 
 Cleveland, Mazarine, etc., a French boy singing love songs 
 in that glorious gallery, whilst about twenty of the great 
 courtiers and other dissolute persons were at basset round a 
 large table, a bank of at least 2,000/. in gold before them, upon 
 which two gentlemen who were with me made reflections in 
 astonishment. Six days after all was in the dust ! " 
 
 Several other contemporary writers have described the death, 
 but with some slight differences, agreeing in the main points. 
 Burnet, however adds, that the Duchess of Portsmouth at- 
 tended him, " taking care of him as a wife of a husband." 
 
 Charles had no children by his queen, but by his mistresses 
 he left a numerous progeny. By Lucy Walters he had James, 
 Duke of Monmouth, born at Rotterdam, in 1649; also a 
 daughter, Mary, married first to Mr. "William Sarsfield, of 
 Ireland, and afterwards to William Fanshaw, Esq. By Lady 
 Castlemaine, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland, he had six 
 children, viz. Charles Fitzroy, Duke of Southampton; Henry 
 Fitzroy, Duke of Grafton ; George Fitzroy, Duke of Nor- 
 thumberland ; Charlotte Fitzroy, married to Sir Edward 
 Harry Lee, of Ditchley, Oxon ; the Countess of Sussex ; and 
 Barbara, who became a nun at Pontoise. By Nell Gwynn 
 he had Charles Beauclerc, Duke of St. Alban's ; and a son, 
 James Beauclerc, who died young. By Louisa Querouaille, 
 afterwards Duchess of Portsmouth, he had Charles Lennox, 
 Duke of Richmond. By Mary Davis he had Mary Tudor, 
 married to Lord Ratcliffe, the son and heir of Francis, Earl 
 of Derwentwater. By Catharine Peg, he had Charles Fitz 
 Charles, who died at Tangier ; and a daughter who died in 
 infancy. By Elizabeth, Viscountess Shannon, he had Char- 
 lotte Boyle, alias Fitzroy; married first, James Howard,
 
 CIIARLKS II. 447 
 
 grandson of the Earl of Suffolk, and afterwards to Sir Ro - 
 bert Yaston, Bart., created Earl of Yarmouth. 
 
 The following anecdotes respecting the merry monarch and 
 his courtiers, gleaned from various contemporary writers, 
 may not be thought inappropriate addenda to the preceding 
 sketch : 
 
 Charles having been accustomed during his exile to live 
 amongst his courtiers more as a companion than a monarch, he 
 still preserved an easy familiarity with all around him, which, 
 combined with his love of gossiping, has not a little contributed 
 to the innumerable stories of his wit and humour which are 
 still preserved. Burnet says he was very fond of relating his 
 adventures in Paris and Scotland, but would repeat them so 
 frequently as to draw down the following severe jest from 
 the Earl of Rochester. He said, " he wondered to see a man 
 have so good a memory as to repeat the same story without 
 losing the least circumstance, and yet not remember that he 
 had told it to the same persons the very day before." 
 
 According to Burnet he was an inveterate pedestrian, and 
 would walk so fast that it was a trouble to keep up with him ; 
 and his brother, the Duke of York, was equally as fond of 
 being on horseback. Anthony "Wood relates that on one occa- 
 sion Prince George of Denmark, who had married the king's 
 niece (afterwards Queen Anne), complained to him that he 
 was growing very fat. " Walk with me," said Charles, 
 " hunt with my brother, and do justice to my niece, and you 
 will not long bo distressed by growing fat." 
 
 Charles was also extremely fond of sauntering in St. James's 
 Park, where he would feed the birds, with which it was well 
 stocked, with his own hands ; and on these occasions very 
 much preferred being attended by only one or two of his per- 
 sonal friends, rather than by a retinue. Dr. King says, that 
 once, when attended by only two noblemen, he met the Duke 
 of York, who had been hunting on Hounslow Heath, and 
 was returning in his coach surrounded by his guards. The 
 duke instantly alighted, and expressed his fears that the 
 king's life might ba endangered by so small an attendance.
 
 448 PERSONAL HISTORY OF 
 
 " No kind of danger, James," said Charles ; " for no man in 
 England will take away my life to make you king." 
 
 There is, however, an instance on record of his not always 
 treating the danger of assassination with so much levity. One 
 day his barber, while shaving him, hazarded, with his usual 
 familiarity, the following remark ; " I consider that none of 
 your majesty's officers have a greater trust than I." " How 
 so, friend ?" quoth the king. " Why," said the barber, " I 
 could cut your majesty's throat whenever I liked." Charles 
 started up at the idea, and using his favourite oath, exclaimed, 
 " Odds fish, the very thought is treason ! you shall shave me 
 no more." 
 
 Evelyn tells us that " he took great delight in having a 
 number of little spaniels follow him and lie in his bedchamber, 
 where he often suffered the bitches to puppy and give suck, 
 which rendered it very offensive, and made the whole court 
 nasty and stinking." Indeed his fondness for these animals 
 was so extraordinary, that rewards were constantly being 
 offered for the king's dogs stolen or strayed from Whitehall. 
 (This breed is now being called King Charles's breed.) 
 
 The Earl of St. Alban's, secretary to Queen Henrietta 
 Maria in all her misfortunes, found himself at the Restoration 
 in a very indifferent condition. Happening one day to make 
 a party of pleasure with his majesty, where all distinctions 
 were laid aside, a stranger came with an importunate suit for 
 an employment just vacant, of considerable value. The king 
 ordered him to be admitted, and the earl to personate his 
 majesty. The gentleman made his addresses accordingly, 
 enumerated his services to the royal family, and hoped such a 
 place would not be thought too great a reward for them. 
 " By no means," replied the earl, " but as soon as I heard of 
 the vacancy I conferred it on my faithful friend the Earl of 
 St. Alban's (pointing at the king), who has constantly followed 
 the fortunes of my father and myself, but hitherto gone unre- 
 warded." The gentleman withdrew, and Charles, after a- 
 hearty laugh at the jest, confirmed the grant. 
 
 Granger relates, that William Penn, the Quaker and Penn- 
 syivanian legislator, on one occasion had an audience with 
 Charles, and, with the true spirit of his sect, kept his hat on. 
 .As a gentle rebuke, Charles quietly took off his hat and stood
 
 CHARLES I!. 449 
 
 uncovered before him. " Friend Charles," said Penn, " why 
 dost thou not keep on thy hat?" "'Tis the custom of this 
 place," replied the king, "for only one person to remain 
 covered at a time." 
 
 Charles more than once dined with the good citizens of 
 London on their Lord Mayor's day, and did so the year Si: 
 Robert Viner was mayor. Sir Robert was a very loyal man, 
 and, if you will allow the expression, very fond of his sove- 
 reign ; but what with the joy he felt at heart for the honour 
 done him by his prince, and the warmth he was in with 
 continual toasting healths to the royal family, his lordship 
 grew a little too fond of his majesty, and entered into a fami- 
 liarity not altogether graceful in so public a place. The king 
 understood very well how to extricate himself in all such 
 difficulties, and with a hint to the company to avoid cere- 
 mony, stole off, and made towards his coach, which stood 
 ready for him in Guild-hall yard. But the mayor liked his 
 company so well, and was grown so intimate, that he pursued 
 him hastily, and catching him fast by the hand, cried out with 
 a vehement oath and accent, " Sir, you shall stay and take 
 t'other bottle." The airy monarch looked kindly at him over 
 his shoulder, and with a smile and graceful air repeated this 
 line of the old song : 
 
 " He that's drunk is as great as a king," 
 
 and immediately returned back and complied with his host's 
 invitation. 
 
 On another occasion Gregorio Leti, a voluminous historical 
 writer, who had been promised the place of historiographer to 
 the English court, was introduced to Charles, and graciously 
 received by him. One day at his levee the king said to him, 
 " Leti, I hear that you are writing the history of the Court of 
 England." Leti acknowledged that he was collecting mate- 
 rials for such a work. " Take care, then," said the king, 
 " that it gives no offence." " Sir," replied Leti, " I will do 
 what I can, but if a man were as wise as Solomon, he would 
 scarcely be able to avoid giving offence." "Why, then," 
 rejoined the king, "be as wise as Solomon; write proverbs, 
 not histories." 
 
 2o
 
 450 PERSONAL HISTORY OP 
 
 Charles employed Sir Christopher Wren to build a palace 
 for him at Newmarket, and in the course of a conversation 
 with him, he complained of the small size of the rooms. 
 Wren, who was a short man, glanced consequentially round 
 the apartment ; " I think," he said, " if it please your majesty, 
 they are high enough." Charles squatted down to Wren's 
 height, and creeping about in this ridiculous posture, " Ay," 
 he said, " I think now, Sir Christopher, they are high enough." 
 
 In the Richardsoniana is given the following account of the 
 origin of the king's nickname of Rowley : " There was an old 
 goat that used to run about the Privy-garden, to which they 
 had given this name ; a rank lecherous devil, that everybody 
 knew and used to stroke, because he was good-humoured and 
 familiar; and so they applied this name to Charles." One 
 evening Charles heard one of the maids of honour singing a 
 ballad in their apartments, in which old Rowley was men- 
 tioned in a rather unpleasant manner. After listening for a 
 few moments he knocked at the door. " Who is there ?" cried 
 Miss Howard, who turned out to be the vocalist. " Only old 
 Rowley," was the good-natured reply. 
 
 Charles enjoyed a practical joke. On one of his birth- 
 days, a pick-pocket had obtained admittance to the drawing- 
 room, disguised in the dress of a gentleman, and commenced 
 the practice of his profession by extracting a gold snuff-box 
 from a nobleman's pocket. Scarcely had he done so when 
 he saw the king looking at him ; but knowing Charles's 
 disposition, he had the consummate impudence to put his 
 finger to his nose, and wink knowingly at his majesty to hold 
 his tongue. A few moments afterwards, by which time the 
 thief had made off, the king was exceedingly amused by per- 
 ceiving the nobleman feeling his pockets for the box. At 
 length he could resist no longer, and called out to the victim, 
 " You need not trouble yourself, my lord ; your box is gone, 
 and I am an accomplice in the theft ; the rascal made me his 
 confidant!" 
 
 When Charles ascended the throne, one of his first acts of 
 generosity was to send a grant of 10,000 acres of land to Lord 
 Clarendon, which the latter at first declined, on account of the 
 envy it would excite. When the king was told of it he said,
 
 CUAKLES II. 451 
 
 " Aly Lord Chancellor is a fool for all his wise head ; does he 
 not know that it is better to be envied than pitied ?" 
 
 Lord Keeper Guildford said, that Charles was better ac- 
 quainted with foreign affairs than all his ministers put together; 
 because, whether drunk or sober, he made a point of convers- 
 ing with every eminent foreigner that visited England ; and 
 though notoriously unreserved himself, he could generally dis- 
 cover the secrets of others. The Duke of Buckingham said, 
 that " Charles could have been a great king if he would, and 
 that James would if he could." 
 
 To Charles's partiality for his graceful and accomplished 
 cousin, Frances Stuart, we owe the elegant representation of 
 Britannia on oui copper coin. She is said to have been the 
 only woman with whom the king was ever really in love, and 
 it was from one of the medals struck to perpetuate his admira- 
 tion of her delicate symmetry, that Britannia was stamped 
 in. the form she still bears on our halfpence and farthings. 
 Guineas were introduced in the reign of Charles, and received 
 this appellation from their having been made of the gold-dust 
 brought from the coast of Guinea by Sir Robert Holmes. 
 
 In the Secret History of Whitehall, it is said that when Sir 
 John Warner turned Papist he retired to a convent, and his 
 uncle, Dr. Warner, who was the king's physician, pressed his 
 majesty to order the Attorney-General to proceed at law for 
 securing his estate to him, as next male, upon an apprehen- 
 sion that Sir John might convert it to popish uses. Charles 
 said to him, " Sir John at present is one of God Almighty's 
 fools, but it will not be long before he returns to his estate, 
 and enjoys it himself." 
 
 During the debate in Parliament, on a bill for disabling 
 all Papists from holding any court place or employment, the 
 king was supposed to speak through the Earl of Shaftesbury, 
 then Lord Chancellor, whilst his brother the Duke of York 
 was represented by Clifford, then Lord Treasurer. On one 
 occasion, the Lord Treasurer having made a violent speech in 
 the House of Lords, he was unexpectedly opposed by Shaftes- 
 bury, who smartly answered all that he said from the be- 
 ginning to the end. Charles and his brother were botn 
 present, and the latter beginning to get excessively angry, 
 at length whispered the king, " What a rogue you have of 
 2 G 2
 
 452 PERSONAL HISTORY OP 
 
 a Lord Chancellor;" to which Charles replied, "and what iv 
 fool you have of a Lord Treasurer." 
 
 Charles never lost his affability and courtesy. He touched 
 people for the evil without evincing either nausea, or a tempta- 
 tion to mirth. But on solemn occasions he could never play 
 the king. He read his speeches to Parliament like a school- 
 hoy. At church he could never preserve his gravity, and 
 would dally with Lady Castlemaine through the curtains 
 which divided the royal box from the ladies' pew. If he saw 
 an acquaintance at play, in the park, or even in a state pro- 
 cession, he would nod to him with the easy familiarity of an 
 equal ; and if the gentleman happened to have a handsome 
 wife with him, he would cast on the husband a glance of sig- 
 nificant meaning. Sometimes after perhaps he had ordered his 
 coach and guards to be ready to conduct him to the park, he 
 would call for a sculler and a pair of oars, and row himself 
 down to Somerset House, to visit the Duchess of Richmond ; 
 and if }ie did not find the garden-door open, he would clamber 
 over the wall. At the council he would jest instead of minding 
 business, and play with his dogs. His ordinary amusements 
 were playing at tennis, and weighing himself afterwards 
 sauntering in the Mall, or idling away his mornings at the 
 toilette of his favourites dancing whole nights, and, occasion- 
 ally, getting very drunk, hearing anthems in his chapel, and 
 keeping time to the music with his head and hands visiting 
 the Tower or the Docks going to the play and ogling the 
 handsome women and, in lack of all other amusements, 
 gossiping with everybody, telling long stories of the French 
 and Spanish courts, and, like good old Kent, " marring a 
 curious tale in telling it." 
 
 " It was Charles the Second," says Spence, " who gave 
 Dryden the hint for writing his poem, called ' The Medal.' 
 One day, as the king was walking in the Mall, and talking 
 with Dryden, he said, ' If I was a poet, and I think I am poor 
 enough to be one, I would write a poem on such a subject, in 
 the following manner ;' and then gave him the plan of it. 
 Dryden took the hint, carried the poem as soon as written to 
 the king, and had a present of a hundred broad pieces for his 
 pains." 
 
 Though Charles possessed but little religion, he does not
 
 CHAHLKS II. 453 
 
 appear to have been a disbeliever. In Dr. Birch's MSS. we 
 are told, that on one occasion the Duke of Buckingham having 
 spoken profanely before him, the king administered to him the 
 following reproof. " My lord," he said, " I am a great deal 
 older than your grace, and have heard more arguments for 
 atheism ; but I have since lived long enough to see that there 
 is nothing in them, and I hope your grace will." On another 
 occasion, speaking of the credulous but learned Vossius, who 
 was a free-thinker, Charles said, that " he refused to believe 
 nothing but the bible."
 
 AN ACCOUNT 
 
 HIS MAJESTY'S ESCAPE FROM WORCESTER. 
 
 DICTATED TO MR. PEPYS DY THE KING HIMSELF. 
 
 NEWMARKET, 
 Sunday, Oct. 3rd, and Tuesday, Oct. 5th, 1680. 
 
 AFTER that the battle was so absolutely lost, as to be 
 beyond hope of recovery, I begaii to think of the best way 
 of saving myself; and the first thought that came into my 
 head was, that, if I could possibly, I would get to London, 
 as soon, if not sooner, than the news of our defeat could get 
 thither : and it being near dark, I talked with some, espe- 
 cially with my Lord Rochester, who was then "NYilmot, about 
 their opinions, which would be the best way for me to escape, 
 it being impossible, as I thought, to get back into Scotland. 
 I found them mightily distracted, and their opinions different, 
 of the possibility of getting to Scotland, but not one agreeing 
 with mine, for going to London, saving my Lord Wilmot ; 
 and the truth is, I did not impart my design of going to 
 London to any but my Lord Wilmot. But we had such a 
 number of beaten men with us, of the horse, that I strove, 
 as soon as ever it was dark, to get from them ; and though I 
 could not get them to stand by me against the enemy, I could 
 not get rid of them, now I had a mind to it. 
 
 So we, that is, my Lord Duke of Buckingham, Lauder- 
 dale, Derby, Wilmot, Tom Blague, Duke Darcey, and 
 several others of my servants, went along n> rthward towards 
 Scotland ; and at last we got about sixty that were gentlemen
 
 456 KING CHARLES'S ESCAPE 
 
 and officers, and slipped away out of the high road that goes to 
 Lancastershire, and kept on the right hand, letting all the 
 beaten men go along the great road, and ourselves not know- 
 ing very well which way to go, for it was then too late for 
 us to get to London, on horseback, riding directly for it, nor 
 could we do it, because there was yet many people of quality 
 with us that I could not get rid of. 
 
 So we rode through a town short of Woolverhampton, 
 betwixt that and Worcester, and went through, there lying a 
 troop of the enemies there that night. We rode very 
 quietly through the town, they having nobody to watch, nor 
 they suspecting us no more than we did them, which I 
 learned afterwards from a country fellow. 
 
 We went that night about twenty miles, to a place called 
 White Ladys, hard by Tong Castle, by the advice of Mr. 
 Giffard, where we stopped, and got some little refreshment 
 of bread and cheese, such as we could get, it being just be- 
 ginning to be day. This White Ladys was a private house 
 that Mr. Giffard, who was a Staffordshire man, had told me 
 belonged to honest people that lived thereabouts.* 
 
 * S. Pepys, desiring to know from Father Hodlestone what he knew 
 touching the brotherhood of the Penderells, as to the names and qualities 
 of each of the brothers, he answered, that he was not very perfect in 
 it, but that, as far as he could recollect, they were thus, viz. : 
 
 1st. William, the eldest, who lived at Boscobel. 
 
 2nd. John, who lived at White Ladies, a kind of woodward there, all 
 the brothers living in the wood, having little farms there, and labouring 
 for their living, in cutting down of wood, and watching the wood from 
 being stolen ; having the benefit of some cow-grass to live on. Father 
 Hodlestone farther told me, that here lived one Mr. Walker, an old gen- 
 tleman, a priest, whither the poor Catholics in that neighbourhood re- 
 sorted for devotion, and whom Father Hodlestone used now and then to 
 visit, and say prayers, and do holy offices with. Upon which score it 
 was, that John Penderell happened to know him in the high-way, when 
 the said John Penderell was looking out. for a hiding-place for my Lord 
 Wilmot. This John was he, as Father Hodlestone says, that took the 
 most pains of all the brothers. 
 
 3rd. Richard, commonly called among them Trusty Richard, who 
 lived the same kind of life with the rest. 
 
 4th. Humphrey, a miller, who has a son at this day (1680) footman to 
 the queen, to be heard of at Somerset House. 
 
 5th. George, another brother, who was in some degree, less or more, 
 as he remembers, employed in this service. He thinks there was a sixth 
 brother, but of that is not certain. H.
 
 r;;oM WORCESTER. 4.^7 
 
 And just as we came thither, there came in a country 
 fellow, that told us, there were three thousand of our horse 
 just hard by Tong Castle, upon the heath, all in disorder, 
 under David Leslie, and some other of the general officers : 
 upon which there were some of the people of quality that 
 were with me, who were very earnest that I should go to 
 him and endeavour to go into Scotland ; which. I thought was 
 absolutely impossible, knowing rery well that the country 
 would ail rise upon us, and that men who had deserted me 
 when they were in good order, would never stand to me 
 when they have been beaten. 
 
 This made me take the resolution of putting myself into a 
 disguise, and endeavouring to get a-foot to London, in a 
 country fellow's habit, with a pair of ordinary grey cloth 
 breeches, a leathern doublet, and a green jerkin, which I 
 took in the house of White Ladys. I also cut my hair very 
 short, and flung my clothes into a privy-house, that nobody 
 might see that anybody had been stripping themselves.""" I 
 acquainting none with my resolution of going to London but 
 my Lord Wilmot, they all desiring me not to acquaint them 
 with what I intended to do, because they knew not what they 
 
 * There were six brothers of the Penderells, who all of them knew the 
 secret; and (as I have since learned from one of them) the man in whose 
 house I changed my clothes came to one of them about two days after, 
 and asking him where I was, told him that they might get 1,0001. if they 
 would tell, because there was that sum laid upon my head. But this 
 Penderell was so honest, that though he at that time knew where I was, 
 he bade him have a care of what he did ; for, that I being gone out of all 
 reach, if they should now discover I had ever been there, they would get 
 nothing but hanging for their pains. I would not change my clothes at 
 any of the Penderell's houses, because I meant to make further use of 
 them, and they might be suspected ; but rather chose to do it in a house 
 where they were not Papists, I neither knowing them, nor, to this day, 
 what the man was at whose house I did it. But the Penderells have since 
 endeavoured to mitigate the business of their being tempted by their 
 neighbour to discover me ; but one of them did certainly declare it to me 
 at that time. A". 
 
 Concerning one Yates, that married a sister of one of the Penderells, 
 Father Hodlestone says, he has heard, that the old coarse shirt which 
 the king had on did belong to him ; and consequently that the king did 
 shift himself at his house ; but believes that the rest of the king's clothes 
 were William Penderell's, he being a tall man, and the breeches the king 
 had on being very long at the knees. H.
 
 458 KING CHARLES'S ESCAPE 
 
 might be forced to confess ; on which consideration, they* 
 with one voice, begged of me not to tell them what I in- 
 tended to do. 
 
 So all the persons of quality and officers who were with 
 me (except my Lord "Wilniot, with whom a place was agreed 
 upon for our meeting at London, if we escaped, and who 
 endeavoured to go on horseback, in regard, as I think, of his 
 being too big to go on foot), were resolved to go and join 
 with the three thousand disordered horse, thinking to get 
 away with them to Scotland. But, as I did before believe, 
 they were not marched six miles, after they got to them, but 
 they were all routed by a single troop of horse ; which shews 
 that my opinion was not wrong in not sticking to men who 
 had run away. 
 
 As soon as I was disguised I took with me a country 
 fellow, whose name was Richard Penderell, whom Mr. 
 Giffard had undertaken to answer for, to be an honest man. 
 He was a Roman Catholic, and I chose to trust them, because 
 I knew they had hiding-holes for priests, that I thought I 
 might make use of in case of need. 
 
 I was no sooner gone (being the next morning after the 
 battle, and then broad day) out of the house with this 
 country fellow, but, being in a great wood, I set myself at 
 the edge of the wood, near the highway that was there, the 
 better to see who came after us, and whether they made any 
 search after the runaways, and I immediately saw a troop of 
 horse coming by, which I conceived to be the same troop that 
 beat our three thousand horse ; but it did not look like a 
 troop of the army's, but of the militia, for the fellow before it 
 did not look at all like a soldier. 
 
 In this wood I staid all day, without meat or drink ; and 
 by great good fortune it rained all the time, Avhich hindered 
 them, as I believe, from coming into the wood to search for 
 men that might be fled thither. And one thing is remark- 
 able enough, that those with whom I have since spoken, of 
 them that joined with the horse upon the heath, did say, that 
 it rained little or nothing with them all the day, but only in 
 the wood where I was, this contributing to my safety. 
 
 As I was in the wood, I talked with the fellow about 
 getting towards London and asking him many questions
 
 FROM WORCESTER. 459 
 
 about what gentlemen lie knew ; I did not find that be knew 
 any man of quality in the way towards London. And the 
 truth is, my mind changed as I lay in the wood, and I re- 
 solved of another way of making my escape ; which was, to 
 get over the Severn into Wales, and so to get either to 
 Swansea or some other of the sea-towns that I knew Lad 
 commerce with France, to the end I might get over that way, 
 as being a way that I thought none would suspect my taking ; 
 besides that, I remembered several honest gentlemen that 
 were of my acquaintance in Wales. 
 
 So that night, as soon as it was dark, Richard Penderell 
 and I took our journey on foot towards the Severn, intending 
 to pass over a ferry, half-way between Bridgenorth and 
 Shrewsbury. But as we were going in the night, we came 
 by a mill where I heard some people talking (Memorandum, 
 that I had got some bread and cheese the night before at one 
 of the Penderells' houses, I not going in), and as we con- 
 ceived, it was about twelve or one o'clock at night, and the 
 country fellow desired me not to answer if anybody should 
 ask me any questions, because I had not the accent of the 
 country. 
 
 Just as we came to the mill, we could see the miller, as I 
 believed, sitting at the mill door, he being in white clothes, it 
 being a very dark night. He called out, " Who goes there ?" 
 Upon which Richard Penderell answered, " Neighbours going 
 home," or some such like words. Whereupon the miller 
 cried out, " If you be neighbours, stand, or I will knock you 
 down." Upon which, we believing there was company in the 
 house, the fellow bade me follow him close ; and he ran to 
 a gate that went up a dirty lane, up a hill, and opening the 
 gate, the miller cried out, "Rogues, rogues!" And there- 
 upon some men came out of the mill after us, which I 
 believed was soldiers : so we fell a-running, both of us, up 
 the lane, as long as we could run, it being very deep, and 
 very dirty, till at last I bade him leap over a hedge, and lie 
 still to hear if anybody followed us; which we did, and 
 continued lying down upon the ground about half an hour, 
 when, hearing nobody come, we continued our way on to the 
 village upon the Severn ; where the fellow toi.d me there was 
 an honest gentleman, one Mr. Woolfe. that lived in that
 
 460 KING CHARLES'S ESCAPE 
 
 town,* where I might be with great safety; for that he hail 
 hiding-holes for priests. But I would not go in till I knew 
 a little of his mind, whether he would receive so dangerous a 
 guest as me, and therefore staid in a field, under a hedge, 
 by a great tree, commanding him not to say it was I ; but 
 only to ask Mr. Woolfe, whether he would receive an ]'. 
 lish gentleman, a person of quality, to hide him the next day, 
 till we could travel again by night, for I durst not go but by 
 night. 
 
 Mr. Woolfe, when the country fellow told him that it was 
 one that had escaped from the battle of Worcester, said, that 
 for his part, it was so dangerous a thing to harbour anybody 
 that was known, that he would not venture his neck for any 
 man, unless it were the king himself. Upon which Richard 
 Penderell very indiscreetly, and without any leave, told him 
 that it was I. Upon which Mr. "\Voolfe replied, that he 
 should be very ready to venture all he had in the world to 
 secure me. Upon which Richard Penderell came and told 
 me what he had done. At which I was a little troubled, but 
 then there was no remedy, the day being just coming on, and 
 I must either venture that, or run some greater danger. 
 
 So I came into the house a back way, where I found Mr. 
 Woolfe, an old gentleman, who told me he was very sorry to 
 see me there ; because there was two companies of the militia 
 foot, at that time, in arms in the town, and kept a guard at 
 the ferry, to examine everybody that came that way, in 
 expectation of catching some that might be making their 
 escape that way ; and that he durst not put me into any of the 
 hiding-holes of his house, because they had been discovered, 
 and, consequently, if any search should be made, they would 
 certainly repair to these holes ; and that therefore I had no 
 other way of security but to go into his barn, and there lie 
 behind his corn and hay. So after he had given us some 
 cold meat, that was ready, we, without making any bustle in 
 the house, went and lay in the barn all the next day ; when 
 towards evening, his son, who had been prisoner at Shrews 
 bury, an honest man, was released, and came home to his 
 father's house. And as soon as ever it began to be a little 
 
 * Mr. Francis \Vbolfe lived at Ma<Hy. //.
 
 FROM WOHCESTEi;. 4G 1 
 
 darkish, Mr. Woolfc and his son brought us meat into the 
 barn ; and there we discoursed with them, whether we might 
 safely get over the Severn into Wales ; which they advised 
 me by no means to adventure upon, because of the strict 
 guards that were kept all along the Severn, where any pas- 
 sage could be found, for preventing anybody's escaping that 
 way into Wales. 
 
 Upon this I took resolution of going that night the very 
 same way back again to Penderell's house, where I knew I 
 should hear some news, what was become of my Lord Wilmot, 
 and resolved again upon going for London. 
 
 So we set out as soon as it was dark. But, as we came 
 by the mill again, we had no mind to be questioned a second 
 time there ; and therefore, asking Richard Penderell whether 
 he could swim or no, and how deep the river was, he told 
 me it was a scurvy river, not easy to be passed in all places, 
 and that he could not swim. So I told him, that the river 
 being but a little one, I would undertake to help him over. 
 Upon which we went over some closes to the river side, and 
 I entering the river first, to see whether I could myself go 
 over, who knew how to swim, found it was but a little above 
 my middle ; and thereupon taking Richard Penderell by the 
 hand I helped him over. 
 
 Which being done, we went on our way to one of Pen- 
 derell's brothers (his house being not far from White Ladys), 
 who had been guide to my Lord Wilmot, and we believed 
 might, by that time, be come back again ; for my Lord 
 Wilmot intended to go to London upon his own horee. 
 When I came to this house, I inquired where my Lord 
 Wilmot was ; it being now towards morning, and having 
 travelled these two nights on foot, Penderell's brother told 
 me that he had conducted him to a very honest gentleman's 
 house, one Mr. Pitchcroft, * not far from Woolverhamp- 
 
 * The king is mistaken in calling Mr. Whitgrave Mr. Pitchcroft. 
 Pitchcroft is the name of a very large meadow contiguous to the city of 
 Worcester, where part of the king's troops lay on the night before the 
 battle ; and which his majesty might have a distant view of, from the top 
 of the tower of the cathedral, where he held a council just before the 
 unfortunate engagement. It is not to be wondered at, if, after the inter- 
 val of twenty-nine years, the king should mistake the name of a place for 
 the name of a person. P.
 
 462 KING CHARLES'S ESCAPE 
 
 ton,* a Roman Catholic. I asked him what news ? He told 
 me that there was one Major Careless in the house that was 
 that countryman ; whom I knowing, he having been a major in 
 our army, and made his escape thither, a Roman Catholic 
 also, I sent for him into the room where I was, and con- 
 sulting with him what we should do the next day, he told 
 me that it would be very dangerous for me either to stay in 
 that house, or to go into the wood, there being a great wood 
 hard by Boscobel ; that he knew but one way how to pass 
 the next day, and that was, to get up into' a great oak, in a 
 pretty plain place, where we might see round about us ; for 
 the enemy would certainly search at tlie wood for people that 
 had made their escape. Of which proposition of his I ap- 
 proving, we (that is to say, Careless and I) went, and carried 
 up with us some victuals for the whole day, viz., bread, 
 cheese, small beer, and nothing else, and got up into a great 
 oak, that had been lopped some three or four years before, 
 and being grown out again, very bushy and thick, could not 
 be seen through, and here we staid all the day. I having, 
 in the meantime, sent Penderell's brother to Mr. Pitchcroft's, 
 to know whether my Lord "VVilmot was there or no ;t and 
 had word brought me by him, at night, that my lord was 
 there ; that there was a very secure hiding-hole in Mr. 
 Pitchcroft's house, and that he desired me to come thither to 
 him. 
 
 Memorandum That while we were in this tree we see 
 soldiers going up and down, in the thicket of the wood, 
 searching for persons escaped, we seeing them, now and then, 
 peeping out of the wood. 
 
 That night Richard Penderell and I went to Mr. Pitch- 
 croft's, about six or seven miles off, where I found the gentle- 
 man of the house, and an old grandmother of his, and Father 
 Hurlston,* who had then the care, as governor, of bringing 
 
 * Mr. Whitgrave lived at Mosely. H. 
 
 f I did not depend upon finding Lord Wilmot, but sent only to know 
 what was become of him ; for he and I had agreed to meet at Lon- 
 don, at the Three Cranes in the Vintry, and to inquire for Will. Ash- 
 burnam. K. 
 
 t His name is Hodlestone, and his grandfather was half-brother, by a 
 second venter, to Sir William Hodlestone, who, with eight brothers, 
 raised two regiments for the king, and served with them. Father Ho- 
 dlestone
 
 FROM WOHCESTER. 4G3 
 
 up two young gentlemen, who I think were Sir John Preston 
 and his brother, they being boys.* 
 
 Here I spoke with my Lord Wilrnot, and sent him away 
 to Colonel Lane's,f about five or six miles off, to see what 
 means could be found for my escaping towards London ; who 
 told my lord, after some consultation thereon, that he had a 
 sister that had a very fair pretence of going hard by Bristol, 
 to a cousin of hers, that was married to one Mr. Norton, 
 who lived two or three miles towards Bristol, on Somerset- 
 shire side, and she might carry me thither as her man ; and 
 from Bristol I might find shipping to get out of England. J 
 
 So the next night I went away to Colonel Lane's, where 
 I changed my clothes || into a little better habit, like a 
 
 dlestone observes, very particularly, as one extraordinary instance of 
 God's providence in this affair, the contingency of his first meeting with 
 John Penderell, occasioned by one Mr. Garret's coming, the Thursday 
 after the fight, out of War wick shire, from Mrs. Morgan, grandmother to 
 little Sir John Preston, with some new linen for Sir John, and some for 
 Father Hodlestone himself, namely, six new shirts, one whereof he gave 
 to the king, and another to my Lord Wilmot. H. 
 
 * This Sir John Preston's father was Sir John Preston, who raised a 
 regiment for the king, and for so doing had his estate given away by the 
 Parliament to Pen. This Sir John Preston, the son, is since dead, and his 
 estate fallen to his brother, Sir Thomas Preston, mentioned in Oates's 
 narrative of the plot, who married my Lord Molineux his daughter, by 
 whom he had two daughters, great heiresses, himself being become a 
 Jesuit. P. 
 
 t Colonel Lane lived at Bentley. H. 
 
 t The king, after having changed his linen and stockings at Mr. 
 'Whitegrave's, said, that he found himself at more ease, was fit for a new 
 march, and if it would please God ever to bless him with ten or twelve 
 thousand men of a mind, and resolved to fight, he should not doubt but to 
 drive those rogues out of the land. H. 
 
 I think I staid two days at Pitchcroft's [Whitgrave's], but Father 
 Hurlstone can tell better than I. K. 
 
 || The habit that the king came in to Father Hodlestone, was a very 
 greasy old grey steeple-crowned hat, with the brims turned up, without 
 lining or hatband, the sweat appearing two inches deep through it, round 
 the band-place; a green cloth jump coat, threadbare, even to the threads 
 being worn white, and breeches of the same, with long knees down to the 
 garter ; with an old sweaty leathern doublet, a pair of white flannel stock- 
 ings next to his legs, which the king said were his boot stockings, their 
 tops being cut off to prevent their being discovered, and upon them a 
 pair of old green yarn stockings, all worn and darned at the knees, with 
 
 their
 
 464 KING CIIAKLES'S ESCAPE 
 
 serving-man, being a kind of grey cloth suit ; and the next 
 day Mrs. Lane and I took our journey towards Bristol, 
 resolving to lie at a place called Long Marson, in the vale of 
 Esham. 
 
 But we had not gone two hours on our way but the marc 
 I rode on cast a shoe ; so we were forced to ride to get 
 another shoe at a scattering village, whose name begins with 
 
 something like Long . And as I was holding my horse's 
 
 foot, I asked the smith what news ? He told me that there 
 was no news that he knew of, since the good news of the 
 beating of the rogues the Scots. I asked him whether there 
 was none of the English taken that joined with the Scots ? 
 He answered, that he did not hear that that rogue Charles 
 Stewart was taken ; but some of the others, he said, were 
 taken, but not Charles Stewart. I told him, that if that 
 rogue were taken he deserved to be hanged, more than all the 
 rest, for bringing in the Scots. Upon which he said, that I 
 spoke like an honest man, and so we parted. 
 
 Here it is to be noted, that we had in company with us 
 Mrs. Lane's sister, who was married to one Mr. , she 
 being then going to my Lord Paget's, hard by Windsor, so as 
 we were to part, as accordingly we did, at Stratford-upon- 
 Avon. 
 
 But a mile before we came to Stratford- upon- A von, we 
 
 their feet cut off; which last he said he had of Mr."VVoolfe, who persuaded 
 him thereto, to hide his other white ones, for fear of being observed ; his 
 shoes were old, all slash'd for the ease of his feet, and full of gravel, with 
 little rolls of paper between his toes, which he said he was advised to, to 
 keep them from galling ; he had an old coarse shirt, patched both at the 
 neck and hands, of that very coarse sort which, in that country, go by 
 the name of hogging-shirts ; which shirt, Father Hodlestone shifting 
 from the king, by giving him one of his new ones, Father Hodlestone sent 
 afterwards to Mr. Sherwood, now Lord Abbot of Lambspring in Ger- 
 many, a person well known to the Duke [of York], who begged this 
 shirt of Father Hodlestone ; his handkerchief was a very old one, 
 torn, and very coarse, and being daubed with the king's blood from his 
 nose, Father Hodlestone gave it to a kinswoman of his, one Mrs. Brath- 
 wayte, who kept it with great veneration, as a remedy for the king's evil ; 
 he had no gloves, but a long thorn-stick, not very strong, but crooked 
 three or four several ways, in his hand ; his hair cut short up to his ears, 
 and bands coloured ; his majesty refusing to have any gloves, when Fa- 
 ther Hodlestone offered him some, as also to change his stick. P.
 
 FHOM WOKCKSTEK. 465 
 
 espied upon the way a troop of horse,* whose riders were 
 alighted, and the horses eating some grass by the way-side, 
 staying there, as I thought, while their muster-master was 
 providing their quarters. Mrs. Lane's sister's husband, who 
 went along with her as far as Stratford, seeing this troop 
 of horse just in our way, said, that for his part, he would 
 not go by them, for he had been once or twice beaten by 
 some of the Parliament soldiers, and he would not run 
 the venture again. I hearing him say so, begged Mrs. 
 Lane, softly in her ear, that we might not turn back, but go 
 on, if they should see us turn. But all she could say in the 
 world would not do, but her brother-in-law turned quite 
 round, and went into Stratford another way. The troop of 
 horse being then just getting on horseback, about twice twelve 
 score off, and, as I told her, we did meet the troop just but 
 in the town of Stratford. 
 
 But then her brother and we parted, he going his way, and 
 we ours, towards Long Marson, where we lay at a kinsman's, 
 I think, of Mrs. Lane's ; neither the said kinsman, nor her 
 afore-mentioned brother-in-law, knowing who I was. 
 
 The next night we lay at Cirencester ; and so from thence 
 to Mr. Norton's house, beyond Bristol, where, as soon as ever 
 I came, Mrs. Lane called the butler of the house, a very 
 honest fellow, whose name was Pope, and had served Tom 
 Jermyu, a groom of my bedchamber, when I was a boy at 
 Richmond; she bade him to take care of "William Jackson, 
 for that was my name, as having been lately sick of an ague, 
 whereof she said I was still weak, and not quite recovered. 
 And the truth is, my late fatigues, and want of meat, had 
 indeed made me look a little pale ; besides this, Pope had 
 been a trooper in the king my father's army ; but I was not 
 to be known in that house for any thing but Mrs. Lane's 
 servant. 
 
 Memorandum That one Mr. Lassells, a cousin of Mrs. 
 Lane's, went all the way with us, from Colonel Lane's, on 
 horseback, single, I riding before Mrs. Lane. 
 
 Pope, the butler, took great care of me that night, I not 
 
 * A poor old woman, that was gleaning in the field, cried out, of her 
 own accord, without occasion given her, " Master, don't you see a troop 
 of horse before you ?" K. 
 
 2 II
 
 466 KING CIIAIILESS ESCAPE 
 
 eating, as I should have done, with the servants, upon account 
 of my not being well. 
 
 The next morning I arose pretty early, having a very good 
 stomach, and went to the buttery-hatch to get my breakfast ; 
 where I found Pope and two or three other men in the room, 
 and we all fell to eating bread and butter, to which he gave 
 us very good ale and sack. And as I was sitting there, there 
 was one that looked like a country fellow sat just by me, who, 
 talking, gave so particular an account of the battle of Wor- 
 cester to the rest of the company, that I concluded he must 
 be one of Cromwell's soldiers. But I asking him how he 
 came to give so good an account of that battle, he told me 
 he was in the king's regiment; by which I thought he 
 meant one Colonel King's regiment. But, questioning him 
 further, I perceived that he had been in my regiment of guards, 
 in Major Broughton's company, that was my major in the 
 battle. I asked him what a kind of man I was ? To which he 
 answered by describing exactly both my clothes and my 
 horse ; and then looking upon me, he told me that the king 
 was at least three fingers taller than I. Upon which I made 
 what haste I could out of the buttery, for fear he should 
 indeed know me, as being more afraid when I knew he x was 
 one of our own soldiers, than when I took him for one of the 
 enemy's. 
 
 So Pope and I went into the hall, and just as we came 
 into it Mrs. Norton was coming by through it ; upon which, 
 I plucking off my hat, and standing with my hat in my 
 hand, as she passed by, that Pope looked very earnestly in my 
 face. But I took no notice of it, but put on my hat again, 
 and went away, walking out of the house into the field. 
 
 I had not been out half an hour, but coining back I went 
 up to the chamber where I lay; and just as I came thither, 
 Mr. Lassells came to me, and in a little trouble said, ' What 
 shall we do ! I am afraid Pope knows you ; for he says very 
 positively to me that it is you, but I have denied it." Upon 
 which I presently, without more ado, asked him whether he 
 was a very honest man or no ? Whereto he answering me 
 that he knew him to be so honest a fellow that he durst trust him 
 with his life, as having been always on our side, I thought it 
 better to trust him, than go away leaving that suspicion upon
 
 FROM WORCESTER. 467 
 
 him ; and thereupon sent for Pope, and told him, that I was 
 very glad to meet him there, and would trust him with my 
 life as an old acquaintance. Upon which, being a discreet 
 fellow, he asked me what I intended to do; for, says he, I 
 am extremely happy I know you, for otherwise you might 
 run great danger in this house. For though my master and 
 mistress are good people, yet there are at this time one or 
 two in it that are very great rogues ; and I think I can be 
 useful to you in any thing you will command me. Upon 
 which I told him my design of getting a ship, if possible, at 
 Bristol ; and to that end bade him go that very day imme- 
 diately to Bristol, to see if there were any ships going either 
 to Spain or France, that I might get a passage away in. 
 
 I told him also that my Lord AVilniot was coming to meet 
 me here ; for he and I had agreed at Colonel Lane's, and 
 were to meet this very day at Norton's. Upon which Pope 
 told me, that it was most fortunate that he knew me, and had 
 heard this from me ; for that if my Lord "Wilrnot should have 
 come hither, he would have been most certainly known to 
 several people in the house ; and therefore he would go. And 
 accordingly went out, and met my Lord Wiliuot a mile or two 
 off the house, not far off, where he lodged him till it was 
 night, and then brought him hither, by a back-door, into my 
 chamber ; I still passing for a serving-maa, and Lassells and 
 I lay in one chamber, he knowing all the way who I was. 
 
 So after Pope had been at Bristol to inquire for a ship, 
 but could hear of none ready to depart beyond sea sooner 
 than within a month, which was too long for me to stay 
 thereabout, I betook myself to the advising afresh with my 
 Lord Wilinot and Pope what was to be done. And the latter 
 telling me that there lived somewhere in that country, upon 
 the edge of Somersetshire, at Trent, within two miles of Sher- 
 burn, Frank TVindham, the knight marshal's brother, who 
 being my old acquaintance, and a very honest man, I resolved 
 to go to his house. 
 
 But the night before we were to go away, we had a mis- 
 fortune that might have done us much prejudice, for Mrs. 
 Norton, who was big with child, fell into labour, and mis- 
 carried of a dead child, and was very ill ; so that we could 
 not tell how in the world to find an excuse for Mrs. Lane to 
 2 n 2
 
 468 KING CHARLES'S ESCAPE 
 
 leave her cousin in that condition ; and indeed it was not safe 
 to stay longer there, where there was so great resort of disaf- 
 fected idle people. 
 
 At length, consulting with Mr. Lassells, I thought the 
 best way to counterfeit a letter from her father's house, old 
 Mr. Lane's, to tell her that her father was extremely ill, and 
 commanded her to come away immediately, for fear that she 
 should not otherwise find him alive ; which letter Pope deli- 
 vered so well, while they were all at supper, and Mrs. Lane 
 playing her part so dexterously, that all believed old Mr. 
 Lane to be indeed in great danger, and gave his daughter 
 the excuse to go away with me the very next morning 
 early. 
 
 Accordingly the next morning* we went directly to Trent 
 to Frank Windhain's house, and lay that night at Castle- 
 Gary, and the next night came to Trent, where I had ap- 
 pointed my Lord Wilmot to meet me, whom I still took care 
 not to keep with me, but sent him a little before, or left to 
 come after me.t 
 
 When we came to Trent, my Lord Wilmot and I advised 
 with Frank Windham, whether he had any acquaintance at 
 any sea-town upon the coast of Dorset or Devonshire ; who 
 told me that he was very well acquainted with Gyles Strang- 
 ways, and that he would go directly to him, and inform him- 
 self whether he might not have some acquaintance at Wey- 
 mouth or Lyrne, or some of those parts. 
 
 But Gyles Strangways proved not to have any, as having 
 been long absent from all those places, as not daring to stir 
 abroad, having been always faithful to the king; but he 
 desired Frank Windham to try what he could do therein, it 
 being unsafe for him to be found busy upon the sea-coast. 
 But withal he sent me three hundred broad pieces, which he 
 knew were necessary for me in the condition I was now in ; 
 for I durst carry no money about me in those mean clothes, 
 and my hair cut short, but about ten or twelve shillings in 
 silver. 
 
 * I staid about two days at Pope's [Lassells]. K. 
 
 \~ I could never get my Lord Wilmot to put on any disguise, he say- 
 ing, that he should look frightfully in it ; and therefore did never put on 
 any. K.
 
 FROM WORCESTER. 469 
 
 Frank Windham, upon this, went himself to Lyme, and 
 spoke with a merchant there, to hire a ship for my trans- 
 portation, being forced to acquaint him that it was I that 
 ..us to be carried out. The merchant undertook it, his name 
 
 being , and accordingly hired a vessel for 
 
 France, appointing a day for my coming to Lyme to embark. 
 And accordingly we set out from Frank Windham's, and to 
 cover the matter the better, I rode before a cousin of Frank 
 Windham's, one Mrs. Judith Coningsby, still going by the 
 name of William Jackson.""" 
 
 Memorandum That one day, during my stay at Trent, I 
 hearing the bells ring (the church being hard by Frank 
 Windham's house) and seeing a company got together in the 
 churchyard, I sent down the maid of the house, who knew 
 me, to inquire what the matter was ; who returning came up 
 and told me, that there Avas a rogue, a trooper, come out of 
 Cromwell's army that was telling the people that he had 
 killed me, and that that was my buff coat which he had 
 then on. Upon which, most of the village being fanatics, 
 they were ringing the bells, and making a bonfire for joy 
 of it. 
 
 This merchant having appointed us to come to Lyme, 
 v,-e, viz. myself, my Lord Wilmot, Frank Windham, Mrs. 
 Coningsby, and one servant of Frank Windham's, whose 
 name was Peter, were directed from him to a little village 
 hard by Lyme, the vessel being to come out of the Cobb at 
 Lyme, and come to a little creek that was just by this village, 
 whither we went, and to send their boat ashore to take us in 
 at the said creek, and carry us over to France, the wind being 
 then very good at north. 
 
 So we sat up that night, expecting the ship to come out, 
 but she failed us. Upon which, I sent Frank Windham's 
 man, Peter, and my Lord Wilmot to Lyme the next morning, 
 to know the reason of it. But we were much troubled how 
 to pass away our time the next day, till we could have an 
 answer. At last, we resolved to go to a place called Bur- 
 port, about four miles from Lyme, and there stay till my 
 
 * At Trent Mrs. Lane and Lassells went home. I staid some four 
 or five days at Frank Windham's house, and was known to most of his 
 family. A".
 
 470 KING CHARLES'S ESCAPE 
 
 Lord "Wilmot should bring us news, whether the vessel could 
 be had the next night or no, and the reason of her last night's 
 failure. 
 
 So Frank Windham, and Mrs. Coningsby and I, went in 
 the morning, on horseback, away to Burport; and just as 
 we came into the town, I could see the streets full of red- 
 coats, Cromwell's soldiers, being a regiment of Colonel 
 Haynes's, viz. fifteen hundred men going to embark to take 
 Jersey, at which Frank Windham was very much startled, 
 and asked me what I would do ? I told him that we must go 
 impudently into the best inn in the town, and take a chamber 
 there, as the only thing to be done ; because we should other- 
 ways miss my Lord Wilmot, in case we went anywhere else, 
 and that would be very inconvenient both to him and me. 
 So we rode directly into the best inn of the place, and found 
 the yard very full of soldiers. I alighted, and taking the 
 horses, thought it the best way to go blundering in among 
 them, and lead them through the middle of the soldiers into 
 the stable, which I did ; and they were very angry with me 
 for my rudeness. 
 
 As soon as I came into the stable I took the bridle off the 
 horses, and called the hostler to me to help me, and to give 
 the horses some oats. And as the hostler was helping me to 
 feed the horses, " Sure, Sir," says the hostler, " I know your 
 face?" which was no very pleasant question to me. But I 
 thought the best way was to ask him, where he had lived 
 whether he had always lived there or no ? He told me, that 
 he was but newly come thither ; that he was born in Exeter, 
 and had been hostler in an inn there, hard by one Mr. Pot- 
 ter's, a merchant, in whose house I had lain in the time of 
 war : so I thought it best to give the fellow no further occa- 
 sion of thinking where he had seen me, for fear he should 
 guess right at last ; therefore I told him, " Friend, certainly 
 you have seen me then at Mr. Potter's, for I served him a 
 good while, above a year." " !" says he, " then I remem- 
 ber you a boy there ;" and with that was put off from think- 
 ing any more on it; but desired that we might drink a pot 
 of beer together ; which I excused, by saying, that I must 
 go wait on my master, and get his dinner ready for him. 
 But told him, that my master was going for London, and
 
 FUOM WORCESTER. 471 
 
 would return about three weeks hence, when he would lio 
 there, and I would not fail to drmk a pot with him. 
 
 As soon as we had dined, my Lord Wilmot came into the 
 town from Lyme, hut went to another inn. Upon which, 
 we rode out of town, as if we had gone upon the road towards 
 London ; and when we were got two miles off, my Lord 
 Wilmot overtook us (he having observed, while in town, 
 where we were), and told us, that he believed the ship might 
 be ready next night ; but that there had been some mistake 
 betwixt him and the master of the ship. 
 
 Upon which, 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 Lymc, 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 ho 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 
 tliip 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 Mrs. 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 she had never seen me but once 
 in her life, and that was with the king, my father, in the
 
 472 KING CIIAULES'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 WORCESTER. 473 
 
 place called Hambleton, seven miles from Portsmouth; because 
 it was too long a journey to go in one day to Shore ham. 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 we 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 
 yon ; for I looked very suspiciously. Upon which, Colonel 
 Gunter answering for me, that he might trust his life in my 
 hands, he 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 
 Titchfield, 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 he could 
 .serve me in my escape. But being then provided of a ship, 
 I would not put him to the danger of having any tiling to do 
 with it. 
 
 The next day we went to a place, four miles off of Shore- 
 Lam, called Bright-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-helmstone, 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 roaster 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 Tettershall, the master of the bark. Ph.
 
 4?4 KING CHARLES'S ESCAPE 
 
 price foi the carrying over that gentleman, yet he had 
 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 very 
 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 TVilmot got up with a ladder into her, and 
 went and lay down in the little cabin, till the tide came to 
 fetch us off. 
 
 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 Rouen, 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 the 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 CIIAULES'S ESCAPE FROM WORCESTER. 
 
 "We 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 my Lord TVilmot, 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 I and ray 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 only 
 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 
 3Ir. 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 landed. 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 ADEED, 
 
 CLAUSTRUM REGALE RESERATUM ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE KING'S CONCEALMENT AT TRENT.
 
 TO 
 
 THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 AMONG the many addresses which everyday 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 this 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 forme 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 your 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 nie 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, tb'At 
 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; 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE HISTORY OF KING CHARLES II. s 
 
 y.r .-T MIRACULOUS PRESERVATION AFTER THE BATTLE (JK 
 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 had been barbarously murdered, and himself banished 
 his own dominions, by his own rebellious subjects), took ship- 
 ping at Scheveling, in Holland, and having escaped great 
 dangers at sea, arrived soon after at Spey, in the north of 
 Scotland. 
 
 On the 1st of January following, his majesty was crowned 
 at Scoon, and an army raised in that kingdom to invade this, 
 in hope to recover his regalities here, then most unjustly de- 
 tained from him by some members of the Long Parliament, 
 and Oliver Cromwell their general, who soon after most trai- 
 torously assumed the title of Protector of the new-minted 
 commonwealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland. 
 
 Of this royal Scotch army the general officers were these : 
 Lieutenant-Gen. David Leslie, Lieutenant-Gen. Middleton 
 (who was since created Earl of Middleton, Lord Clarmont and 
 Fettercairn), Major-Gen. Massey, Major-Gen. Montgomery, 
 Major-Gen. Daliel, and Major-Gen. Vandrose, a Dutchman. 
 
 The 1st of August, 1651, his majesty with his army began 
 his march into England ; and on the 5th of the same month, 
 at his royal camp at Woodhouse, near the border, published 
 his gracious declaration of general pardon and oblivion to all 
 his loving subjects of the kingdom of England and dominion 
 of Wales, that would desist from assisting the usurped autho- 
 rity of the pretended commonwealth of England, and return 
 
 2 I
 
 432 BOSCOI3EL. 
 
 to the obedience they owed to their lawful king, and to the 
 ancient happy government of the kingdom, except only Oliver 
 Cromwell, Henry Ireton, John Bradshaw, John Cook (pre- 
 tended solicitor), and all others who did actually sit and vote 
 in the murder of his royal father. 
 
 And lastly did declare, that the service being done, the 
 Scotch army should quietly retire, that so all armies might be 
 disbanded, and a lasting peace settled with religion and 
 righteousness. 
 
 His majesty, after the publication of this gracious offer, 
 inarched his army into Lancashire, where he received some 
 considerable supplies from the Earl of Derby (that loyal sub- 
 ject), and at Warrington Bridge met with the first opposition 
 made by the rebels in England, but his presence soon put 
 them to flight. 
 
 In this interim his majesty had sent a copy of his declara- 
 tion, inclosed in a gracious letter to Thomas Andrews, then 
 lord mayor (who had been one of his late majesty's judges), 
 and the aldermen of the city of London, which, by order of the 
 rump-rebels, then sitting at Westminster, was (on the 26th of 
 August) publicly burnt at the old Exchange by the hangman, 
 and their own declaration proclaimed there and at Westmin- 
 ster, with beat of drum and sound of trumpet ; by which his 
 sacred majesty (to whom they could afford no better title 
 than Charles Stuart), his abetters, agents, and complices, 
 were declared traitors, rebels, and public enemies. Impudence 
 and treason beyond example ! 
 
 After a tedious march of near three hundred miles, his 
 majesty, with his army, on the 22ud of August, possessed him- 
 self of Worcester, after some small opposition made by the 
 rebels there, commanded by Colonel John James. And at 
 his entrance, the mayor of that city carried the sword before 
 his majesty, who had left the Earl of Derby in Lancashire, as 
 well to settle that and the adjacent countries in a posture of 
 defence against Cromwell and his confederates, as to raise 
 some auxiliary forces to recruit his majesty's army, in case the 
 success of a battle should not prove so happy as all good men 
 desired. 
 
 But (such was Heaven's decree) on the 25tb of August, the 
 earl's new-raised forces., being overpowered, were totally de-
 
 BOSCOBEL. 483 
 
 feated, near Wiggan, in that county, by Col. Lilburn, with a 
 regiment of rebellious sectaries. In which conflict the Lord 
 Widdrington, Sir Thomas Tildesly, Col. Trollop, Col. Bointon, 
 Lieutenant-Col. Galliard (faithful subjects and valiant sol- 
 diers), with some others of good note, were slain ; Colonel 
 Edward Roscarrock wounded ; Sir William Throkmorton 
 (since knight marshal to his majesty), Sir Timothy Feather- 
 stouhaugli (who was beheaded by the rebels at Chester, on 
 the 22nd of October following), Col. Bains, and others, taken 
 prisoners ; and their general, the Earl of Derby (who charged 
 the rebels valiantly, and received several wounds), put to flight 
 with a small number of men : in which condition he made 
 choice of the way towards Worcester, whither he knew his 
 majesty's army was designed to march. 
 
 After some days, my lord, with Col. Roscarrock and two 
 servants, got into the confines of Staffordshire and Shropshire, 
 near Newport, where at one Mr. Watson's house he met with 
 Mr. Richard Snead (an honest gentleman of that county, and 
 of his lordship's acquaintance), to whom he recounted the 
 misfortune of his defeat at Wiggan, and the necessity of tak- 
 ing some rest, if Mr. Snead could recommend his lordship to 
 any private house near hand, where he might safely continue 
 till he could find an opportunity to go to his majesty. 
 
 Mr. Snead brought my kvd and his company to Boscobel 
 House, a very obscure habitation, situate in Shropshire, but 
 adjoining upon Staffordshire, and lies between Tong Castle 
 and Brewood, in a kind of wilderness. John Giflard, Esq., 
 who first built this house, invited Sir Basil Brook, with other 
 friends and neighbours, to a house-warming feast ; at which 
 time Sir Basil was desired by Mr. Giflard to give the bouse a 
 name, he aptly calls it BOSCOBEL (from the Italian Bosco-ldld) 
 which in that language signifies fair wood), because seated in 
 the midst cif many fair woods. 
 
 At this place the earl arrived on the 29th of August (being 
 Friday), at night ; but the house at that time afforded no 
 inhabitant except William Penderel, the housekeeper, and his 
 wife, who, to preserve so eminent a person, freely adventured 
 to receive my lord, and kept him in safety till Sunday night 
 following, when (according to my lord's desire of going to 
 Worcester) he conveyed him to Mr. Humphrey Elliot's house, 
 
 2 r 2
 
 48-i 1JG3COUEL. 
 
 at Gataker Park, (a true-hearted royalist), which was about 
 nine miles on the way from Boscobel thither. Mr. Elliot 
 did not only cheerfully entertain the earl, but lent him ten 
 pounds, and conducted him and his company safe to Wor- 
 cester. 
 
 The next day after his majesty's arrival at Worcester, being 
 Saturday, the 23rd of August, he was proclaimed King of 
 Great Britain, France, and Ireland, by Mr. Thomas Lisens, 
 mayor, and Mr. James Bridges, sheriff, of that loyal city, 
 with great acclamations. 
 
 On the same day his majesty published this following ma- 
 nifesto, or declaration : 
 
 " Charles, by the grace of God, King of England, Scotland, 
 France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c. To all 
 whom it may concern, greeting. We desire not the effusion 
 of blood, we covet not the spoil or forfeiture of our people ; 
 our declaration at our entry into this kingdom, the quiet 
 behaviour and abstinence of our army throughout this long 
 march, and our own general pardon, declared to all the inha- 
 bitants of this city, without taking advantage of the opposition 
 here made us, by a force of the enemy over-mastering them, 
 until we have chased them away, have sufficiently certified 
 both what we seek is only that the laws of England (which 
 secure the right both of king and subject) may henceforth 
 recover their due power and force, and all past bitterness of 
 these unnatural wars be buried and forgotten. As a means 
 whereunto, we have by our warrants of the date hereof, and 
 do hereby summon, upon their allegiance, all the nobility, gen- 
 try, and others of what degree and condition soever, of our 
 county of Worcester, from sixteen to sixty, to appear in their 
 persons, and with any horses, arms, and ammunition they 
 have or can procure, at Pitchcroft,'near the city, on Tuesday 
 next, being the 26th of this instant month, where ourself will 
 be present that day (and also the next, in case those of the 
 further parts of the county should not be able to come up 
 sooner), to dispose of such of them as we shall think fit, for 
 our service in the war, in defence of this city and county, and 
 to add unto our marching army, and to apply others (therein 
 versed) to matters of civil advice and government. Upon 
 which appearance, we shall immediately declare to all pre-
 
 ];OX:O;;KI.. 485 
 
 sent, and conforming themselves to our royal authority, our 
 free pardon ; not excluding from this summons, or the pardon 
 held forth, or from trust and employment in our service, as 
 we shall find them cordial and useful therein, any person or 
 persons heretofore, or at this time actually employed in oppo- 
 sition to us, whether in the military way, as governors, colo- 
 nels, captains, common soldiers, or whatsoever else ; or in the 
 civil, as sheriffs, under-sheriffs, justices of the peace, collec- 
 tors, high constables, or any other higher or lower quality ; 
 for securing of all whom before mentioned in their loyal ad- 
 dresses and performances (besides our army fjnore than once 
 successful since our entrance] which will be between them 
 and the enemy, and the engagement of our own person in their 
 defence), we have directed this city to be forthwith fortified, 
 and shall use such other helps and means as shall occur to us 
 in order to that end. But, on the other side, if any person, 
 of what degree or quality soever, either through disloyalty 
 and disaffection, or out of fear of the cruel usurpers and op- 
 pressors, accompanied with a presumption upon our mercy 
 and goodness, or lastly, presuming upon any former service, 
 shall oppose or neglect us at this time, they shall find, that as 
 we have authority to punish in life, liberty, and estate, so we 
 want not now the power to do it, and (if overmuch provoked) 
 shall not want the will neither ; and in particular unto those 
 who have heretofore done and suffered for their loyalty, we 
 say it is now in their hands either to double that score, or to 
 strike it off; concluding with this, that although our disposi- 
 tion abound with tenderness to our people, yet we cannot 
 think it such to let them lie under a confessed slavery and false 
 peace, when, as we well know, and all the world may see, we 
 have force enough, with the conjunction of those that groan 
 under the present yoke (we will not say to dispute, for that 
 we shall do well enough with those we have brought with us), 
 but clearly (without any considerable opposition) to restore, 
 together with ourself, the quiet, the liberty, and the laws of 
 the English nation. 
 
 " Given at our city of Worcester, the 23rd of Aug. 1651, 
 "and in the third year of our reign." 
 
 Upon Sunday, the 24th of August, Mr. Crosby (an eminent 
 divine of that city) preached before his majesty in the cathe-
 
 48 G BOSfXDKL. 
 
 Jral church, and in his prayers styled his majesty, " in all 
 causes, and over all persons, next under God, supreme head 
 and governor ;" at which the Presbyterian Scots took ex- 
 ception, and Mr. Crosby was afterwards admonished by some 
 of them to forbear such expressions. 
 
 Tuesday, the 26th of August, was the rendezvous, in Pitch- 
 croft, of such loyal subjects as came in to his majesty's aid, in 
 pursuance of his before-mentioned declaration and summons. 
 Here appeared : 
 
 Francis Lord Talbot, afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury, with about 
 60 horse. 
 
 Mr. Mervin Touchet, his lieut. -colonel. 
 
 Sir John Packington. 
 
 Sir Walter Blount, 
 
 Sir Ralph Clare. 
 
 Sir Rowland Berkley. 
 
 Sir John Winford. 
 
 Mr. Ralph Sheldon of Beoly. 
 
 Mr. John Washburn of Witchinford, with 40 horse. 
 
 Mr. Thos. Hornyold of Blackmore Park, with -10 horse. 
 
 Mr. William Seldon of Finstall. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Acton. 
 
 Captain Benbow. 
 
 Mr. Robert Elount of Kenswick. 
 
 Mr. Robert Wigmore of Lucton. 
 
 Mr. Edward Pennel the elder 
 
 Captain Kingston 
 
 Mr. Peter Blount. 
 
 Mr. Edward Blount 
 
 Mr. Walter Walsh. 
 
 Mr. Charles Walsh. 
 
 Mr. William Dansey. 
 
 Mr. Francis Knotsford. 
 
 Mr. George Chambers, &c. 
 
 With divers others, who were honoured and encouraged by 
 his majesty's presence. Notwithstanding which access, the 
 number of his army, both English and Scots, was conceived 
 not to exceed 12,000 men, viz. 10,000 Scots, and about 2,000 
 English ; and those, too, not excellently armed, nor plentifully 
 stored with ammunition. 
 
 Meantime Cromwell (that grand patron of sectaries) had 
 amassed together a numerous body of rebels, commanded by 
 himself in chief, and by the Lord Grey of Groby, Fleetwood, 
 and Lambert, under him, consisting of above 30,000 men
 
 BOSCOBEL. 48 7 
 
 (being generally the scum and froth of the whole kingdom), 
 one part of which were sectaries, who, through a fanatic zeal, 
 were become devotees to this great idol ; the other part 
 seduced persons, who either by force or fear were unfortu- 
 nately made actors or participants in this so horrible and 
 i'atal a tragedy. 
 
 Thus, then, began the pickeerings to the grand engagement, 
 Major-General Massey, with a commanded party, being sent 
 >y his majesty to secure the bridge and pass at Upton upon 
 rii, seven miles below Worcester, on Thursday, the 28th 
 if August, Lambert with a far greater number of rebels 
 attacked him, and after some dispute gained the pass, the 
 river being then fordable. Yet the major-general behaved 
 himself very gallantly, received a shot in the hand from some 
 musketeers the enemy had conveyed into the church, and 
 retreated in good order to Worcester. 
 
 During this encounter, Cromwell himself (whose head- 
 quarter was the night before at Pershore) advanced to 
 Stoughton, within four miles of the city, on the south side, 
 himself quartered that night at Mr. Simon's house, at White 
 Lady- Aston ; and a party of his horse faced the city that 
 evening. 
 
 The next day (August the 29th), Sultan Oliver appeared 
 with a great body of horse and foot on Re^d Hill, withiu a 
 mile of Worcester, where he made a bonnemine, but attempted 
 nothing ; and that night part of his army quartered at Judge 
 Barkley's house at Speachley. The same day it was resolved 
 by his majesty, at a council of war, to give the grand rebel a 
 camisado, by beating up his quarters that night with 1,500 
 select horse aud foot, commanded by Lieut. -General Middle- 
 ton and Sir William Keyth, all of them -wearing their shirts 
 over their armour for distinction ; which accordingly was at- 
 tempted, and might in all probability have been successful, 
 had not the design been most traitorously discovered to the 
 rebels by one Guyse, a tailor in the town, and a notorious 
 sectary, who was hanged the day following, as the just reward 
 of his treachery. In this action Major Knox was slain, and 
 some few taken prisoners by the enemy. A considerable 
 party of the rebels, commanded by Colonel Fleetwood, 
 Colonel Richard Ingoldsby (who since became a real convert.
 
 483 BOSCOBEL. 
 
 and was created Knight of the Bath at hi.s majesty's corona- 
 tion), Colonel Goff, and Colonel Gibbons, being got over the 
 Severn, at Upton, marched next day to Powick-town, where 
 they made a halt ; for Powick-bridge (lying upon the river 
 Team, between Powick-town and Worcester) was guarded 
 by a brigade of his majesty's horse and foot, commanded 
 by Major-General Robert Montgomery and Colonel George 
 Keyth. 
 
 The fatal 3rd of September being come, his majesty this 
 Jay (holding a council of war upon the top of the college 
 church steeple, the better to discover the enemies' posture) 
 observed some firing at Powick, and Cromwell making a 
 bridge of boats over Severn, under Bunshill, about a mile 
 below the city towards Team-mouth ; his majesty presently 
 goes down, commands all to their arms, and marches in person 
 to Powick-bridge, to give orders, as well for maintaining that 
 bridge, as for opposing the making the other of boats, and 
 hasted back to his army in the city. 
 
 Soon after his majesty was gone from Powick-bridge, the 
 enemy assaulted it furiously, which was well defended by 
 Montgomery, till himself was dangerously wounded and his 
 ammunition spent, so that he was forced to make a disorderly, 
 retreat into Worcester, leaving Colonel Keyth a prisoner at 
 the bridge. At the same time Cromwell had with much 
 celerity finished his bridge of boats and planks over the main, 
 river, without any considerable opposition, saving that Col- 
 onel Pitscotty, with about three hundred Highlanders, per- 
 formed as much therein as could be expected from a handful 
 of men fighting against great numbers. By this means Oliver 
 held communication with those of his party at Powick-bridge, 
 and when he had marched over a considerable number of his 
 men, said (in his hypocritical way), " The Lord of Hosts be 
 with you;" and returned himself to raise a battery of great 
 guns against the fort royal on the south side of the city. 
 
 His majesty being returned from Powick-bridge, marched 
 with the Duke of Buckingham, Lord Grandison, and sonic 
 other of his cavalry, through the city, and out at Sudbury- 
 gate by the fort royal, where the rebels' great shot came fre- 
 quently near his sacred person. 
 
 At this time Cromwell was settled in an advantageous post
 
 BOSCOBEL. 489 
 
 at Perrywood, within a mile of the city, swelling with pride, 
 and confident in the numbers of his men, having besides raised 
 ;i breastwork, at the cockshoot of that wood, for his greater 
 security; but Duke Hamilton (formerly Lord Lanerick), with 
 his own troop and some Highlanders, Sir Alexander Forbes, 
 with his regiment of foot, and divers English lords and gen- 
 tlemen volunteers, by his majesty's command and encourage- 
 ment, engaged him, and did great execution upon his best 
 men, forced the great sultan (as the Rhodians in like case 
 did the Turk) to retreat with his janizaries ; and his majesty 
 v,u> once as absolute master of his great guns as he ought then 
 to have been of the whole land. 
 
 Here his majesty gave an incomparable example of valour 
 to the rest, by charging in person, which the Highlanders, 
 especially, imitated in a great measure, fighting with the but- 
 end of their muskets when their ammunition was spent ; but 
 new supplies of rebels being continually poured upon them, 
 and the main body of Scotch horse not coming up in due time 
 from the town to his majesty's relief, his army was forced to 
 retreat in at Sudbury-gate in much disorder. 
 
 In this action Duke Hamilton (who fought valiantly) had 
 liis horse killed under liim, and was himself mortally wounded, 
 of which he died within few days, and many of his troop (con- 
 sisting much of gentlemen, and divers of his own name) were 
 slain ; Sir John Douglas received his death-wound ; and Sir 
 Alexander Forbes (who was the first knight the king made 
 in Scotland, and commanded the fort royal here) was shot 
 through both the calves of his legs, lay in the wood all night, 
 and was brought prisoner to Worcester next day. 
 
 The rebels in this encounter had great advantage, as well 
 in their numbers, as by fighting both with horse and foot 
 against his majesty's foot only, the greatest part of his horse 
 being wedged up in the town. And when the foot were de- 
 feated, a part of his majesty's horse fought afterwards against 
 both the enemy's horse and foot upon great disadvantage. 
 And as they had few persons of condition among them to lose, 
 so no rebels but Quartermaster-General Mosely and one Cap- 
 tain Jones were worth taking notice of to be slain in this 
 battle. 
 
 At Sudbury-gate (I know not whether by accident or on
 
 490 BOSCOBEL. 
 
 purpose) a cart laden with ammunition was overthrown and 
 lay across the passage, one of the oxen that drew it being 
 there killed ; so that his majesty could not ride into the town, 
 but was forced to dismount and come in on foot. 
 
 The rebels soon after stormed the fort royal (the fortifica- 
 tions whereof were not perfected), and put all the Scots they 
 found therein to the sword. 
 
 In the Friars-street his majesty put off his armour (which 
 was heavy and troublesome to him), and took a fresh horse ; 
 and then perceiving many of his foot soldiers began to throw 
 down their arms and decline fighting, he rode up and down 
 among them, sometimes with his hat in his hand, entreating 
 them to stand to their arms and fight like men, other whiles 
 encouraging them, alleging the goodness and justice of the 
 cause they fought for ; but seeing himself not able to prevail, 
 said, " I had rather you would shoot me, than keep me alive 
 to see the sad consequences of this fatal day." So deep a 
 sense had his prophetic soul of the miseries of his beloved 
 country, even in the midst of his own danger. 
 
 During this hot engagement at Perrywood and Redhill, the 
 rebels on the other side the water possessed themselves of St. 
 John's ; and a brigade of his majesty's foot which were there, 
 under the command of Major-General Daliel. without any 
 great resistance, laid down their arms and craved quarter. 
 
 When some of the enemy were entered, and entering the 
 town both at the Ke} r , Castle-hill, and Sudbury-gate, without 
 any conditions, the Earl of Cleveland, Sir James Hamilton, 
 Colonel Thomas Wogan, Colonel William Carlis (then major 
 to the Lord Talbot), Lieut.-Colonel John Slaughter, Captain 
 Thomas Horuyold, Captain Thomas Giffard, Captain John 
 Astley, Mr. Peter Blount, and Captain Richard Kemble (cap- 
 tain-lieutenant to the Lord Talbot), and some others, rallied 
 what force they could (though inconsiderable to the rebels' 
 numbers), and charged the enemy veiy gallantly both in Sud- 
 bury-street and High-street, where Sir James and Captain 
 Kemble were desperately wounded, and others slain ; yet this 
 action did much secure his majesty's march out at St. Mar- 
 tin's-gate, who had otherwise been in danger of being taken 
 in the town. 
 
 About the same time, the Earl of Rothes, Sir William
 
 BOSCOBEL. 491 
 
 Hamilton, and Colonel Drurnmond, with a party of Scots' 
 maintained the Castle-hill with much resolution, till such time 
 as conditions were agreed on for quarter. 
 
 Lastly, some of his majesty's English army valiantly op- 
 posed the rebels at the Town-hall, where Mr. Coningsby 
 Colles and some others were slain ; Mr. John Rumney, Mr. 
 Charles Wells, and others, taken prisoners ; so that the rebels 
 having in the end subdued all their opponents, fell to plunder- 
 ing the city unmercifully, few or none of the citizens escaping 
 but such as were of the fanatic party. 
 
 When his majesty saw no hope of rallying his thus dis- 
 comfited foot, he marched out of Worcester, at St. Martin's- 
 gate (the Fore-gate being mured up), about six of the clock 
 in the evening, with his main body of horse, as then com- 
 manded by General David Lesley, but were now in some con- 
 fusion. 
 
 The Lord St. Clare, with divers of the Scottish nobility and 
 gentry, were taken prisoners in the town; and the foot-soldiers 
 (consisting most of Scots) were almost all either slain or taken, 
 and such of them who in the battle escaped death lived but 
 longer to die, for the most part, more miserably, many of 
 them being afterwards knocked on the head by country 
 people, some bought and sold like slaves for a small price, 
 others went begging up and down, till, charity failing them, 
 their necessities brought upon them diseases, and diseases 
 death. 
 
 Before his majesty was come to Barbon's-bridge, about half 
 a mile out of Worcester, he made several stands, faced about, 
 and desired the Duke of Buckingham, Lord Wilmot, and 
 other of his commanders, that they might rally and try the 
 fortune of war once more. But at the bridge a serious con- 
 sultation was held ; and then perceiving many of the troopers 
 to throw off their arms and shift for themselves, they were all 
 of opii/ion the day was irrecoverably lost, and that their only 
 remaining work was to save the king from those ravenous 
 wolves and regicides. Whereupon his majesty, by advice of 
 his council, resolved to march with all speed for Scotland, 
 following therein the steps of King David, his great prede- 
 cessor in royal patience, who, finding himself in circumstances 
 not unlike to these. " said to all his servants that were with
 
 41)2 BOSCOBKL. 
 
 him at Jerusalem, Arise and let us fly; for we shall not else 
 escape from Absalom : make speed to depart, lest he overtake 
 us suddenly, and bring evil upon us, and smite the city with 
 the edge of the sword." * 
 
 Immediately after this result, the duke asked the Lord 
 Talbot (being of that country) if he could direct the way 
 northwards. His lordship answered, that he had one Richard 
 Walker in his troop (formerly a scout-master in those parts, 
 and who since died in Jamaica) that knew the way well, who 
 was accordingly called to be the guide, and performed that 
 duty for some miles ; but being come to Kinver-heath, not 
 far from Kidderminster, and daylight being gone, Walker 
 was at a puzzle in the way. 
 
 Here his majesty made a stand, and consulted with the 
 duke, Earl of Derby, Lord Wilmot, &c. to what place he 
 might march, at least to take some hours' rest. The Earl of 
 Derby told his majesty, that in his flight from Wiggan to 
 Worcester he had met with a perfect honest man, and a great 
 convenience of concealment at Boscobel House (before men- 
 tioned), but withal acquainted the king it was a recusant's 
 house ; and it was suggested, that those people (being accus- 
 tomed to persecution and searches) were most like to have the 
 readiest means and safest contrivances to preserve him : his 
 majesty therefore inclined to go thither. 
 
 The Lord Talbot being made acquainted therewith, and 
 finding Walker dubious of the way, called for Mr. Charles 
 GifFard (a faithful subject, and of the ancient family of Chil- 
 lington) to be his majesty's conductor, which office Mr. Giffard 
 willingly undertook, having one Yates, a servant, with him, 
 very expert in the ways of that country ; and being come 
 near Sturbridge, it was under consideration whether his ma- 
 jesty should march through that town or no, and resolved in 
 the affirmative, and that all about his person should speak 
 French, to prevent any discovery of his majesty's presence. 
 
 Meantime General Lesley, with the Scottish horse, had, 
 in the close of the evening, taken the more direct way north- 
 ward, by Newport, his majesty being left only attended by the 
 Duke of Buckingham, Earl of Derby, Earl of Lauderdale, 
 Lord Talbot, Lord Wilmot, Col. Thomas Blague, Col. Edward 
 * 2 Sam xv. 14.
 
 BCSCOBEL. 403 
 
 Roscaxrock, Mr. Marmaduke Darcy, Mr. Richard Lane, Mr. 
 William Armorer (since knighted), Mr. Hugh May, Mr. 
 Charles Giffard, Mr. Peter Street, and some others, in all about 
 sixty horse. 
 
 At a house about a mile beyond Sturbridge, his majesty 
 drank, and ate a crust of bread, the house affording no better 
 provision ; and as his majesty rode on, he discoursed with 
 Colonel Roscarrock touching Boscobel House, and the means 
 of security which the Earl of Derby and he found at that 
 place. 
 
 However, Mr. Giffard humbly proposed to carry his majesty 
 fir^t to White Ladies (another seat of the Giffards), lying but 
 half a mile beyond Boscobel, where he might repose himself 
 for a while, and then take such farther resolution as his ma- 
 jesty and council should think fit. 
 
 This house is distant about twenty-six miles from Worcester, 
 and still retains the ancient name of White Ladies, from its 
 having formerly been a monastery of Cistercian nuns, whose 
 habit was of that colour. 
 
 His majesty and his retinue (being safely conducted thither 
 by Mr. Giffard) alighted, now, as they hoped, out of danger 
 of any present surprise by pursuits ; George Penderel (who 
 was a servant in the house) opened the doors; and after his 
 majesty and the lords were entered the house, his majesty's 
 horse was brought into the hall, and by this time it was about 
 break of day on Thursday morning. Here every one was in 
 a sad consult how to escape the fury of blood-thirsty enemies ; 
 but the greatest solicitude was to save the king, who was both 
 hungry and tired with this long and hasty march. 
 
 Mr. Giffard presently sent for Richard Penderel, who lived 
 near hand at Hobbal Grange ; and Col. Roscarrock caused 
 Bartholomew Martin, a boy in the house, to be sent to Bos- 
 cobel for William Penderel ; meantime Mistress Giffard 
 brought his inajesty some sack and biscuit ; for " the king, 
 and all the people that were with him, came weary, and re- 
 freshed themselves there." * Richard came first, and was im- 
 mediately sent back to bring a suit of his clothes for the king ; 
 and by that time he arrived with them, William carne, and 
 both were brought into the parlour 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 Ed \vard 
 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 Asheuhurst, 
 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, 
 the 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. f Ibid. 15.
 
 1X)3COBEL 495 
 
 northwards by the way of Newport, in hope to overtake or 
 meet 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 command of Colonel 
 Blundel : the lords with their followers faced about, fought, 
 and repelled them ; 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 cf 
 Lauderdale, Mr. Charles Giffard, and some others, were takeu 
 and carried prisoners, first to Whitchurch, and from theuce 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 Westchester, 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 1 2th 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 ihis Black Tribunal there sat, as Judges, these persons, and under 
 
 these titles : 
 
 Colonel Humphrey Mackworth, president 
 Major-General Mitton. 
 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 Griffith. 
 Captain Thomas Portingtorv 
 Captain Edward Alcock. 
 Captain Ralph Pownall. 
 Captain Richard Grantham. 
 Captain Edward Sttlfax.
 
 4M(J BOSCOBEL. 
 
 THEIR CRUEL SENTENCE. 
 
 " Resolved by the Court iipon the question : That James, 
 Earl of Derby, is guilty of the breach of the act of the 12th 
 of August, 1651, last past, 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. 
 
 " JResolved by 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 1 5th 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.
 
 BOSCOBEL. 497 
 
 England) to Mr. May (\vlio preserved it through all difficulties, 
 and afterwards restored it to his grace in Holland), and 
 changed habit with one of the workmen ; and in this disguise, 
 by the assistance of Mr. Barlow and his wife, was, after some 
 days, conveyed by one Xich. Matthews, a carpenter, to the 
 house of Mr. Hawley, a hearty cavalier, at Bilstrop, in Not- 
 tinghamshire, from thence to the Lady Villiars's house at 
 Booksby, in Leicestershire ; 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 Levistou, Colonel Blague, Mr. 
 Darcy, and Mr. May, all quitted their horses, disguised them- 
 selves, and severally shifted for themselves, and seme of them, 
 through various dangers and sufferings, contrived their escapes; 
 in particular, Mr. May was forced to lie twenty-one days in a 
 hay-mow belonging to one John Bold, an honest husbandman, 
 who lived at Soudley : Bold having all that time rebel soldiers 
 quartered in his house, yet failed not to give a constant relief 
 to his more welcome guest ; and when the coast was clear of 
 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 immediately pursued by the rebels, who found the horse 
 saddled, and by that concluded my lord not to be far off, so 
 that they searched Longford House narrowly, and some of 
 them continued in it four or five days, during all which time 
 my lord was in a close place in one of the out-houses, almost 
 stifled 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 difficulty, by a trusty servant ; yet his lordship thought 
 it a great providence, even by these hardships, 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 inarched twenty-one days toge- 
 ther upon a trotting horse), had also made his escape from 
 Worcester, when all the fighting work was over, and was got 
 to Woodcot, in Shropshire, whither he was pursued, and taken 
 at or near Mistress Brousrhton's house, from whence he was 
 
 2 K
 
 4U8 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. Eobert 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 him 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 Avas there any thing 
 for him to sit on ; wherefore Richard went to Francis Yates's 
 house (a trusty neighbour, who married hia 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
 
 UOSCOBEL. 499 
 
 the wood, who, being a little surprised to see the woman (no 
 good concealer of a secret), said cheerfully to her, " Good 
 woman, can you be faithful to a distressed cavalier ? " She 
 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 Penderel for his 
 guide, but knew not determinately whither to go, purposing 
 at first to have marched northwards ; but as they passed by 
 Brewood forge, the forgemen made after them, till being told 
 by one Rich. Dutton that it was Colonel Crompton whom 
 they pursued, the Yulcans happily, upon that mistake, 
 quitted the chase. 
 
 Soon after they narrowly escaped a party of rebels as they 
 passed by Covenbrook ; so that seeing danger on every side, 
 and John meeting with William Walker (a trusty neighbour), 
 committed my lord to his care and counsel, who for the present 
 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 Northcot 
 (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 majesty's army 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 wasj 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. Whitgreave with the business, who freely 
 * 1 Sam. xxv. 35. 
 2 K 2
 
 500 BOSCUUKL. 
 
 resolved to venture all, rather than such a person should mis- 
 carry. 
 
 Plereupon Mr. Whitgreave repairs to Huntbache's house, 
 speaks with my lord, and gives direction how he should be 
 privately conA'eyed 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 
 Walker 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, whom 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, 
 in order to the tender of farther service to the owner of the 
 horses, whose name neither the colonel nor Mr. Whitgreaye 
 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, with his trusty servant Richard, began their 
 journey oa foot, resolving to go that night to Madeley, in
 
 BOSCOIJKL. 501 
 
 Shropshire, about five miles from White Ladies, and within a 
 mile of the river Severn, over which their way lay for Wales. 
 In this village lived one Mr. Francis Woolf, an honest gen- 
 tleman of Richard's acquaintance. 
 
 His majesty had not been long gone, but the Lord "Wilmot 
 sent John Penderel from Mr. Whitgreave' s to White Ladies 
 and Boscobel, to know in what security the king was. John 
 returned and acquainted my lord that his majesty wa.^ 
 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 appointment, 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 procured 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 offered, 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 lordship 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 Madeley, 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 flight from Worcester, and had not 
 been long in the mill, so that the miller was upon his watch ; 
 ami 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 pursued them, quitted the usual way in some 
 haste, and led his majesty over a little brook, which they were 
 forced to wade through, and which contributed much 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
 
 f02 BOSCOBEL. 
 
 best direction his majesty had to follow him in that dark 
 night. 
 
 They 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 purpose. 
 
 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
 
 BJSCUBEL. 503 
 
 went in to see if any soldiers were there, or other danger ; 
 where he found Colonel William Carlis (who had seen, not 
 the last man born, but the last man killed, at Worcester), and 
 who, having with much difficulty made his escape from thence, 
 was got into his own neighbourhood, and for some time con- 
 cealing himself in Boscobel Wood, was come that morning to 
 the house, to get some relief of William Penderel, his old ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 Richard having acquainted the colonel that the king was in 
 the wood, the colonel, with William and Richard, went pre- 
 sently thither to give their attendance, where they found his 
 majesty sitting on the root of a tree, who was glad to see the 
 colonel, and came with them into the house, where he ate bread 
 and cheese heartily, and (as an extraordinary) William Pen- 
 derel's wife made his majesty a posset of thin milk and small 
 beer, and got ready some warm water to wash his feet, not 
 only extremely dirty, but much galled with travel. 
 
 The colonel pulled off his majesty's shoes, which were full 
 of gravel, and stockings, which were very wet ; and there 
 being no other shoes in the house that would fit him, the 
 good-wife put some hot embers in those to dry them, whilst 
 his majesty's feet were washing and his stockings shifted. 
 
 Being thus a little refreshed, the colonel persuaded his 
 majesty to go back into the wood (supposing it safer than the 
 house), where the colonel made choice of a thick-leaved oak, 
 into which William and Richard helped them both up, and 
 brought them such provision as they could get, with a cushion 
 for his majesty to sit on ; the colonel humbly desired his ma- 
 jesty (who had taken little or no rest the two preceding 
 nights) to seat himself as easily as he could in the tree, and 
 rest his head on the colonel's lap, who was watchful that his 
 majesty might not fall. In this oak they continued most part 
 of the day ; and in that posture his majesty slumbered away 
 some part of the time, and bore all these hardships and afflic- 
 tions with incomparable patience. 
 
 In the evening they returned to the house, where William 
 Penderel acquainted his majesty with the secret place wherein 
 the Earl of Derby bad 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 
 for 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
 
 BOSCOBEL. 505 
 
 such for his own diet, and so it might beget a suspicion of his 
 having strangers at his house. But the colonel found another 
 expedient to satisfy his majesty's desires. Early on Sunday 
 morning he repairs to Mr. William Staunton's eheepcot, 
 who rented some of the demesnes of Boscobel ; here he chose 
 one of the best sheep, sticks him with his dagger, then sends 
 William for the mutton, who brings him home 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 
 convenience 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 parlour ; his majesty called for a 
 knife and a trencher, and cut some of it into collops, and 
 pricked them with the knife point, then called for a frying- 
 pan 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 among 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. 
 
 All this while the other brothers of the Penderels were, 'in 
 their several stations, either scouting abroad to learn intelli- 
 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 White Ladies, and none that he was gone 
 thence, yet this house (which proved a happy 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 escaping, because the neigh- 
 bours could truly inform uone but poor servants lived here.
 
 506 BOSCUBEL. 
 
 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 Carlis 
 humbly took leave of him, being so well known in the country, 
 that his attendance upon his majesty would in all probability
 
 BOSCOBEL. /)07 
 
 T iave proved rather a disservice than otherwise ; however, his 
 hearty prayers were not wanting for his majesty's pre- 
 servation. 
 
 Thus then his majesty was mounted, and thus he rode 
 towards Moseley, attended by all the honest brothers, William, 
 John, Richard, 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 have 
 been questioned or encountered but by 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) answered (beyond the 
 usual capacity of a miller), " My liege, can you blame the 
 horse to go heavily, when he has the weight of three kingdoms 
 on his back ? " 
 
 When his majesty came to Penford mill, within two miles 
 of Mr. Whitgreave's house, his guides desired him to alight 
 and go on foot the rest of the way, for more security, the foot- 
 way being the more secure, and the nearer ; and at last they 
 arrived at the place appointed by Mr. Huddleston (which was 
 a little grove of trees, in a close of Mr. Whitgreave's, called 
 the Pit-Leasow), in order to his majesty's being privately 
 conveyed into Mr. Whitgreave's house; William, Humphrey, 
 and George returned with the horse, the other three attended 
 his majesty to the house ; but his majesty, being gone a little 
 way, had forgot (it seems) to bid farewell to William and the 
 rest who were going back, so he called to them and said, "My 
 troubles make me forget myself; I thank you all ! " and gave 
 them his hand to kiss. 
 
 The Lord Wilmot, in pursuance of his own appointment, 
 came to the meeting-place precisely at his hour, where Mr. 
 Whitgreave received him, and conveyed him to his old 
 chamber ; but hearing nothing of the king at his prefixed time 
 gave occasion to suspect some misfortune might have befallen
 
 50 3 BOSCOBKL. 
 
 him, though the night was very dark and rainy, which might 
 possibly be the occasion of so long stay; Mr. Whitgreave 
 therefore leaves my lord in his chamber, and goes to Pit-Les- 
 sow, where Mr. Huddleston attended his majesty's coming ; 
 and about two hours after the time appointed his majesty came, 
 whom Mr. Whitgreave and Mr. Huddleston conveyed, with 
 much satisfaction, into the house to my lord, who expected 
 him with great solicitude, and presently kneeled down and 
 embraced his majesty's knees, who kissed my lord on the 
 cheek, and asked him earnestly, " What is become of Buck- 
 ingham, Cleveland, and others ?" To which my lord could 
 give little satisfaction, but hoped they were in safety. 
 
 My lord soon after (addressing himself to Whitgreave and 
 Mr. Huddleston) said, " Though I have concealed my friend's 
 name all this while, now I must tell you, this is my master, 
 your master, and the master of us all," not knowing that they 
 understood it was the king ; whereupon his majesty was 
 pleased to give his hand to Mr. Whitgreave and Mr. Huddle- 
 ston to kiss, and told them he had received such an account 
 from my Lord Wilmot of their fidelity, that he should never 
 forget it ; and presently asked Mr. Whitgreave, " Where is 
 your secret place ?" which being shewn his majesty, he was 
 well pleased therewith, and returning into my lord's chamber, 
 sat down on the bed-side, where his nose fell a bleeding, and 
 then pulled out of his pocket a handkerchief, suitable to the 
 rest of his apparel, both coarse and dirty. 
 
 His majesty's attire, as was before observed in part, was 
 then a leathern doublet, with pewter buttons, a pair of old 
 green breeches, and a jump-coat (as the country calls it) of 
 the same green, a pair of his own stockings, with the tops cut 
 off, because embroidered, and a pair of stirrup stockings, 
 which were lent him at Madeley, and a pair of old shoes, cut 
 and slashed to give ease to his feet, an old grey greasy hat, 
 without a lining, a noggen shirt of the coarsest linen ; his 
 face and his hands made of a reechy complexion, by the help 
 of the walnut-tree leaves. 
 
 Mr. Huddleston, observing the coarseness of his majesty's 
 shirt to disease him much and hinder his rest, asked my lord 
 it' the king would be be pleased to change his shirt, which 
 his majesty condescended unto, and presently put off his
 
 BOSCOBEL. 509 
 
 coarse shirt and put on a flaxen one of Mr. Iluddleston's, who 
 pulled off his majesty's shoes and stockings, and put him on 
 fresh stockings, and dried his feet, where he found some- 
 body had innocently, but indiscreetly, applied white paper, 
 which, with going on foot from the place where his 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 pleased 
 to say cheerfully, "I am now ready for another march ; 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 Monday 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 him 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 and salute Mr. Whitgreave's 
 mother, and (having his place of retreat still ready) sat 
 between whiles in a closet over the porch, where he might see 
 those that passed the road by the house. 
 
 Before the Lord Wilmot betook himself to his dormitory, 
 he conferred with Mr. Whitgreave. and advised that himself 
 or Mr. Huddleston 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 care 
 of a loyal subject, worthy eternal memory. 
 
 On Monday, his majesty and my lord resolved to despatch 
 John Penderel to Colonel Lane at Beutley, with directions 
 for the colonel to send my lord's horses for him that night
 
 510 BOSCOBEL. 
 
 about midnight, 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. Giffard 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 whence 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
 
 BOSCOBEL. 511 
 
 (mingled, notwitshauding, with high promises of reward) to 
 Mrs. Anne Andrew (to whose custody some of the king's 
 clothes, when he first took upon him the disguise, were com- 
 mitted), who (like a true virago) faithfully sustained the one, 
 and loyally refused the other, which put the rebels into such 
 a fury, that they searched every corner of the house, broke 
 down much of the wainscot, and at last beat the intelligencer 
 severely for making them lose their labours. 
 
 During this Tuesday, in my Lord "Wilmot's absence, his 
 majesty was for the most part attended by Mr. Huddleston, 
 Mr. Whitgreave being much abroad in the neighbourhood, and 
 Mrs. Whitgreave below stairs, both inquisitive 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 countryman, 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 espied 
 two soldiers, who passed by the gate in the road, and told Mr. 
 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 pleased 
 to discourse with Mr. 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. Huddleston had under his charge young Sir John 
 Preston, Mr. Thomas Playn, and Mr. 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 sun-eyed the roads, to watch
 
 512 BOSCOBEL. 
 
 and give notice when they saw any troopers coming. 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 pursuance 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/f. 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 permit 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 with 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 orchard. 
 * 1 Sam. xxiii. 14.
 
 L. 513 
 
 where Mr. Whitgreave both humbly and faithfully delivered 
 his great charge into Col. Lane's hands, telling the colonel 
 who the person was he there presented to him. 
 
 The niirht was both dark and cold, and his majesty's cloth- 
 ing thin ; therefore Mr. Huddleston humbly offered his ma' 
 jesty a cloak, which he was pleased to accept, and wore 
 to Bentley, from whence Mr. Huddleston afterwards re- 
 ceived it. 
 
 As soon as Mr. Whitgreave and Mr. Huddleston heard hi* 
 majesty was not only got safe to Bentley, but marched se- 
 curely from thence, they began to reflect upon his advice, and 
 lest any discovery should be made of what had been acted at 
 Moseley, they both absented themselves from home ; the one 
 went to London, the other to a friend's house in Warwick- 
 shire, where they lived privately till such time as they 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 Whitgreaves of Burton, .in the county of Stafford, and 
 
 first a cornet, afterwards lieutenant to Captain Thomas 
 
 Giffard, in the first war for his Majesty King Charles the 
 
 Mr. John Huddleston was a younger brother of the re- 
 nowned family of the house of Hutton- John, in the county of 
 Cumberland, and was a gentleman volunteer in his late ma- 
 jesty's service, first under Sir John Preston the elder, til! Sir 
 John was rendered unserviceable by the desperate wounds !:< 
 received in that service, and after under Colonel Ralph Pud- 
 s<>y at Newark. 
 
 His majesty being safely conveyed to Bentley by Colonel 
 Lar.o, staid there but a short time, took the opportunity of 
 . Jane's pass, and rode before her to Bristol, the Lord 
 Wilniot attending, by another way, at a distance. In all 
 which journey Mrs. Lane performed the part of a most faith- 
 ful and prudent servant to his majesty, shewing her observ- 
 ance when an opportunity would allow it, and at other times 
 acting her part in the disguise with much discretion. 
 
 But thr- ' Pfi of his majesty's arrival at Bristol, aiv.l 
 
 the hou-"- of several !<:>y:il subjects, both in Somersetshire.
 
 514 BOSOOKEL. 
 
 Dorsetshire, Wiltshire, Hampshire, and so to Brighthehnstone. 
 in Sussex, where he, on the 15th of October, 1651, took ship- 
 ping, and landed securely in France the next morning ; and 
 the several accidents, hardships, and encounters, in all that 
 journey, must be the admired subject of the Second Part of 
 this history. 
 
 The very next day after his majesty left Boscobel, being 
 Monday, the 8th of September, two parties of rebels came 
 thither, the one being part of the county troop, who searched 
 the house with some civility ; the other (Captain Broadway's 
 men) did it with more severity, ate up their little store of 
 provision, plundered the house of what was portable, and one 
 of them presented a pistol to "William Penderel, and much 
 frighted my dame Joan ; yet both parties returned us igno- 
 rant as they came of that intelligence they so greedily sought 
 after. 
 
 This danger being over, honest William began to think of 
 making satisfaction for the fat mutton, and accordingly ten- 
 dered Mr. Staunton its worth in money ; but Staunton under- 
 standing the sheep was killed for the relief of some honest 
 cavaliers, who had been sheltered at Boscobel, refused to take 
 the money, but wished much good it might do them. 
 
 These Penderels were of honest parentage, but mean de- 
 gree, six brothers born at Hobbal Grange, in the parish of 
 Tong, and county of Salop, William, John, Richard, Hum- 
 phrey, Thomas, and George ; John, Thomas, and George were 
 soldiers in the first war for King Charles I. Thomas was 
 slain at Stow fight, William, as you have heard, was a ser- 
 vant at Boscobel, Humphrey a miller, and Richard rented part 
 of Hobbal Grange. 
 
 His majesty had not been long gone from Boscobel, but 
 Col. Carlis sent William Penderel to Mr. Humphrey Iron- 
 monger, his old friend at Wolverhampton, who not only pro- 
 cured him a pass from some of the rebel commanders, in a dis- 
 guised name, to go to London, but furnished him with money 
 for his journey, by means whereof he got safe thither, and 
 from thence into Holland, where he brought the first happy 
 news of his majesty's safety to his royal sister the Princess of 
 Orange. 
 
 This Colonel William Carlis was born at Bromhall. -Ji
 
 BOSCOBEL. 515 
 
 Staffordshire, within two miles of Boscobel, of good parentage, 
 was a person of approved valour, and engaged all along in the 
 first war for King Charles L, of happy memory, and since his 
 death was no less active for his royal son ; for which, and his 
 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 pcrpetuam rci memoriam, as 'tis expressed in the letters 
 patent. 
 
 The oak is now properly called " The Royal Oak of Bos- 
 cobel," nor will it lose that name whilst it continues a tree, nor 
 that tree a memory whilst we have an inn left in England ; 
 since the "Royal Oak" is now become a frequent sign, both 
 in London and all the chief cities of this kingdom. And since 
 his majesty's happy restoration, that these mysteries have 
 been revealed, hundreds of people, for many miles round, have 
 flocked to see the famous Boscobel, which (as you have heard) 
 had once the honour to be the palace of his sacred majesty, but 
 chiefly to behold the Royal Oak, which has been deprived of all 
 its young boughs by the numerous visitors of it, who keep them 
 in memory of his majesty's happy preservation, insomuch that 
 3Ir. Fitzherbert, who was afterwards proprietor, was forced in 
 a due season of the year to crop part of it, for its preservation, 
 and put himself to tbe charge of fencing it about with a high 
 pale, the better to transmit the happy memory of it to pos 
 terity. 
 
 This Boscobel House has yet been a third time fortunate ; 
 for after Sir George Booth's forces were routed in Cheshire, 
 in August, 1659, the Lord Brereton, who was engaged with 
 him, took sanctuary there for some time, and was preserved. 
 
 When his majesty was thus happily conveyed away by 
 Colonel Lane and his sister, the rebels had an intimation that 
 .some of the brothers were instrumental in his preservation, so 
 that, besides the temptations Humphrey overcame at Shefual, 
 Win. Penderel was twice questioned at Shrewsbury on the 
 same' account by Captain Fox, and one Lluellin, a sequestra- 
 tor, and Richard was much threatened by a peevish neigh- 
 bour at White Ladies ; but neither threats nor temptations 
 were able to batter the fort of their loyalty. 
 
 2 L 2
 
 516 BOSCGI;T:L. 
 
 After this unhappy defeat of his majesty's army at 
 "Worcester, good God ! in what strange canting language did 
 the fanatics communicate their exultations to one another, 
 particularly in a letter (hypocritically pretended to be written 
 from the Church of Christ at Wrexham, and printed in the 
 Diurnal, Nov. 10, 16.51), there is this malignant expression : 
 " Christ has revealed his own arm, and broke the arm of the 
 mighty once and again, and now lastly at Worcester; so tluit. 
 we conclude (in Ezekiel's phrase) there will be found no roller 
 to bind the late king's arm to hold a sword again," &c. And 
 that you may know who these false prophets were, the letter 
 was thus subscribed : " Daniel Lloyd, Mor. Lloyd, John 
 Brown, Edw. Taylor, An. Maddokes, Dav. Maurice ;" men 
 who measured causes by that success which fell out accord- 
 ing to their evil desires, not considering that God intended, 
 in his own good time, "to establish the king's throne with 
 justice."* 
 
 After the " king had entered into the kingdom, and re- 
 turned to his own land,"t the live brothers attended him at 
 Whitehall, on Wednesday, the 13th of June, 1660, when his 
 majesty was pleased to own their faithful service, and gra- 
 ciously dismissed them with a princely reward. 
 
 And soon after Mr. Hudclleston and Mr. Whitgreave made 
 their humble addresses to his majesty, from whom they like- 
 wise received a gracious acknowledgment of their service and 
 fidelity to him at Moseley, and this in so high a degree of 
 gratitude, and with such a condescending frame of spirit, not 
 at all puffed up with prosperity, as cannot be paralleled in the 
 best of kings. 
 
 Here let us with all glad and thankful hearts humbly con- 
 template the admirable providence of Almighty God, who 
 contrived such wonderful ways, and made use of such mean 
 instruments, for the preservation of so great a person. Lot 
 us delight to reflect minutely on every particular, find e 
 cially on such as most approach to miracle ; let us sum up the 
 number of those who were privy to this first and principal part 
 of his majesty's disguise and concealment. Mr. Giffard. 
 five Penderels, their mother, and three of their wives. Colonel 
 
 * T'rr.v. xxv. f l>.r.. i. 9.
 
 Iil. 517 
 
 Carlos, Francis Yatcs, und his wife, clivers of the inhabitants 
 of White Ladies (which then held five several families), Mr. 
 Woolf, his wife, son, daughter, and maid, Mr. Whitgreave 
 und his mother, Mr. Ilnddleston, Colonel Lane and his sis- 
 ter ; and then consider whether it were not indeed a miracle, 
 that so many men and (which is far more) so many women 
 should faithfully conceal so important and unusual a secret; 
 and this notwithstanding the temptations and promises of re- 
 ward on the one hand, and the danger and menaces of punish- 
 ment on the other. 
 
 To which I shall add but this one circumstance, that it was 
 performed by persons for the most part of that religion which 
 lias long suffered under an imputation (laid on them by some 
 mistaken zealots) of disloyalty to their sovereign. 
 
 And now, as we have thus thankfully commemorated the 
 wonderful fn^'.-'.-rration of his majesty, what remains but that 
 we should return due thanks :;:id praises for his no less mira- 
 culous RESTORATION ? Who, after a long series of misfortunes 
 and variety of afflictions, after he had been hunted to and fro 
 like a " partridge upon the mountains," was, in God's due 
 time, appointed to sit, as his vicegerent, upon the throne of 
 his ancestors, and called forth to govern his own people when 
 they least expected him ; for which all the nation, even all 
 the three n:ii.ion::, h .:! j;;;4 cause to sing
 
 BOSCOBEL; 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE MOST MIRACULOUS 
 PRESERVATION OF 
 
 KING CHARLES II. 
 
 .<\ftertheBattleofWorcester, September the 3rd, 1651. 
 PART II. 
 
 He shall call upon me, and I will answer him ; I will be with him 
 in trouble ; I will deliver him, and ivill honour him. Psal. xix. 15. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE First Part of this miraculous history I long since published, having 
 the means to be well informed in all circumstances relating to it ; the 
 scene (whereon those great actions were performed) being my native 
 country, and many of the actors my particular friends. 
 
 I did not then intend to have proceeded farther, presuming some of 
 those worthy persons of the west (who were the happy instruments in this 
 Second Part) would have given us that so much desired supplement ; the 
 rather, since the publication of the wonderful series of this great work, 
 wherein the hand of God so miraculously appeared in preservation of "him 
 whom the Lord hath chosen,"* must needs open the eyes and convert 
 the hearts of the most disloyal. 
 
 But finding, in all this time, nothing done, and the world more greedy 
 of it than ever young ladies were to read the conclusion of an amorous 
 strange romance, after they had left the darling lover plunged into some 
 dire misfortune, I have thus endeavoured to complete the history. 
 * 1 Sam. x. 21.
 
 hOSCOBEL. 519 
 
 Chiefly encouraged hereunto by an express from Lisbon, wherein 'tis 
 certified that (besides the translation of the first part of Boscobel into 
 French) Mr. Peter GifFard, of White Ladies, has lately made it speak Por- 
 tuguese, and presented it to the Infanta, our most excellent queen, who 
 was pleased to accept it with grace, and peruse it with passion, intimating 
 her royal desire to see the particulars how the hand of Providence haa led 
 the great monarch of her heart out of the treacherous snares of so many 
 rebels. 
 
 In this I dare not undertake to deliver so many particulars asfin the 
 former; for though the time of his majesty's stay in those western parts 
 was longer, yet the places were more remote, and my Lord Wilmot (the 
 principal agent) dead. But I will again confidently promise to write 
 nothing but truth, as near as a severe scrutiny can inform me. 
 
 And, perhaps, a less exactness in circumstantials will better please some 
 who (as I have heard) object against my former endeavours on this royal 
 subject as too minutely written, and particulars set down of too mean a 
 concern, for which I have yet the example of that renowned historian, 
 Famian Strada,* to protect me, who writing of the Emperor Charles the 
 Fifth, mentions what meat he fed on such a day, what clothes he wore 
 another time, and gives this reason, " that it pleases to know every thing 
 j.'rinces do," especially when by a chain of providences, whose every 
 link seems small and weak in its single self, so great a " blessing " f will 
 at last be drawn in amongst us. 
 
 That part of this unparalleled relation of a king, which here I undertake 
 to deliver, may fitly, I think, be called, " The Second Stage of the Royal 
 Progress," wherein as I am sure every good subject will be astonished to 
 read the hardships and difficulties his majesty encountered in this long and 
 perilous journey, so will they be even overjoyed to find him at last (by 
 the conduct of Heaven) brought safe to Paris, where my humble endeavours 
 leave him thus comforted by the prophet: "Fear not, for the hand of 
 Saul shall not find thee, andthou shalt be king over Israel." 
 
 T.B. 
 * De Bel!o Belgico. t 1 Sam. xxiii. U.
 
 SECOND STAGE OF THE ROYAL PROGRESS. 
 
 HE that well considers the admirable events particularized 
 iu the First Part of this History of his majesty's miraculous 
 preservation, will be apt to think his evil genius had almost 
 racked its invention to find out hardships and perils beyond 
 human imagination, and that his good angel had been eveu 
 tired out with contriving suitable means for his deliverance ; 
 yet, if you please (after you have sufficiently wondered, and 
 blessed God for the preservation you read there), proceed and 
 admire the strange stupendous passages you shall find here ; 
 Avhich, when you have done with just and due attention, 1 
 cannot doubt but your thoughts will easily raise themselves 
 into some holy ecstasy, and growing warm with often repeat- 
 ing their own reflections, break forth at last, and join your 
 exclamations with all the true and hearty adorers of the 
 divine providence, " Thou art great, O Lord, and dost won- 
 derful things ; thou art God alone !"' :: 
 
 I shall not need, I hope, to bespeak my reader's patience 
 for any long introduction, since all the compliment I intend, 
 is humbly to kiss the pen and paper, which have the honour 
 to be servants of this royal subject, and without farther 
 ceremony begin. 
 
 Colonel John Lane having (as it has been related) safely 
 conveyed his majesty from Moseley to his own house at 
 Bentley, in Staffordshire, on Tuesday night, the 9th of 
 September, 1651, the Lord Wilinot was there ready to 
 receive him, and after his majesty had eaten and conferred 
 with my lord and the colonel of his intended journey towards 
 Bristol the very next morning, he went to bed, though his 
 rest was not like to be long ; for at the very break of the 
 day on "Wednesday morning the colonel called up his ruajV 
 and brought him a new suit and cloak, which he had pro- 
 vided for him, of country grey cloth, as near as could be 
 contrived like the holyday .suit of a farmer's son, which was 
 thought fittest to curry (Hi the di Here his ru:j 
 
 * Psalm Ixxxvi. l!j.
 
 quitted his leather doublet and green breeches for his new 
 grey suit, and forsook his former name "Will. Jones for that 
 of Will. Jackson. 
 
 Thus, then, was the royal journey designed ; the king, as 
 a tenant's son (a quality far more convenient for their inten- 
 tion than that of a direct servant), was ordered to ride before 
 Mrs. Jane Lane, as her attendant, Mr. Henry Lassels (who 
 was kinsman, and had been cornet to the colonel in the laic 
 v.-ars) to ride single, and Mr. John Petre, of Horton, in 
 Buckinghamshire, and his wife, the colonel's sister, who were 
 then accidentally at Bentley, being bound homeward, to ride 
 in the same company ; Mr. Petre and his wife little suspect- 
 ing Will. Jackson, their fellow-traveller, to be the monarch 
 of Great Britain. 
 
 His majesty thus refreshed, and thus accoutred with all 
 .iries for a journey in the designed equipage, after he 
 had taken leave of niy Lord Wilmot, and agreed on their 
 meeting within a few days after at Mr. George Norton's 
 house at Leigh, near Bristol ; the colonel conveyed him a 
 back way into the stable, where he fitted his stirrups, and 
 irave him some instructions for better acting the part of Will. 
 Jackson, mounted him on a good double gelding, and directed 
 him to come to the gate of the house, which he punctually 
 performed, with his hat under his arm. 
 
 By this time it was twilight, and old Mrs. Lane (who 
 knew nothing of this great secret) would needs see her 
 beloved daughter take horse, which whilst she was intending, 
 the colonel said to the king, " Will, thou must give my sister 
 toy hand;" but his majesty (unacquainted with such little 
 offices) offered his hand the contrary way, which the old 
 gentlewoman taking notice of, laughed, and asked the colonel 
 her son, " What a goodly horseman her daughter had got to 
 ride before her ?" 
 
 Mr. Petre and his wife, and Mr. Lassels, being also 
 mounted, the whole company took their journey (under the 
 protection of the King of kings) towards Stratford-upon- 
 Avou, in Warwickshire. And soon after they were gone 
 from Bentley, the Lord Wilmot, Colonel Lane, and Robert 
 Swan, my lord's servant, took horse, with a hawk and 
 spaniels with them for a disguise, intending to go that night
 
 BOSCOBF.L. 
 
 to Sir Clement Fisher's house at Packington, iu Warwick- 
 shire, where the colonel knew they should both be as welcome 
 as generosity, and as secure as fidelity could make them. 
 
 When the king and his small retinue arrived near "Wotton, 
 within four miles of Stratford, they espied a troop of rebels, 
 baiting (as they conceived) almost a mile before them in the 
 very road, which caused a council to be held among them, 
 wherein Mr. Petre presided, and he would by no means go 
 on, for fear of losing his horse, or some other detriment ; so 
 that they wheeled about a more indirect way ; and at Strat- 
 ford (where they were of necessity to pass the river Avon/ 
 met the same or another troop in a narrow passage, who very 
 f'.iirly opened to the right and left, and made way for the 
 travellers to march through them. 
 
 That night (according to designment) Mrs. Lane and her 
 company took up their quarters at Mr. Tombs's house at 
 Longmarston, some three miles west of Stratford, with whom 
 she was well acquainted. Here Will. Jackson being in the 
 kitchen, in pursuance of his disguise, and the cook-maid busy 
 in providing supper for her master's friends, she desired him 
 to wind up the jack; Will. Jackson was obedient, and 
 attempted it, but hit not the right way, which made the maid 
 in some passion ask, " What countryman are you, that you 
 know not how to wind up a jack ?" Will. Jackson answered 
 very satisfactorily, " I am a poor tenant's son of Colonel 
 Lane, in Staffordshire ; we seldom have roast meat, but when 
 we have, we don't make use of a jack ;" which in some 
 measure assuaged the maid's indignation. 
 
 The same night my lord, with the colonel, arrived safely at 
 !Sir Clement Fisher's house at Packington, >vhere they found 
 a welcome suitable to the nobleness of his mind, and a secu- 
 rity answerable to the faithfulness of his heart. 
 
 Next morning my lord thought fit to despatch the colonel 
 to London, to procure, if possible, a pass for the king, by the 
 name of William Jackson, to go into France, and to bring it 
 'limself, or send it (as opportunity should be offered), to Mr. 
 Norton's house, where my lord (as you have heard) was 
 designed to attend his majesty. 
 
 On Thursday morning (llth of September), the king, with 
 Mrs. Lane and Mr. Lassels, rose early, and aftor Mrs-. Lane
 
 BOeCOJitL. 523 
 
 had taken leave both of Mr. Fetre and his wife (whose way- 
 lay more south), and of Mr. Tombs, the master of the house, 
 they took horse, and without any considerable accident rode 
 by Camden, and arrived that night at an inn in Cirencester, 
 in Gloucestershire, distant about twenty-four miles from Long- 
 marston. After supper, a good bed was provided for Mr. 
 Lassels, and a truckle bed for Will. Jackson in the same 
 chamber ; but Mr. Lassels, after the chamberlain had left 
 them, laid his majesty in the best bed, and himself in the 
 other, and used the like due observance when any opportunity 
 would allow it. 
 
 The next day, being Friday, the royal traveller, with his 
 attendants, left Cirencester, and by the way of Sudbury rode 
 to and through the city of Bristol (wherein they had once lost 
 their way, till inquiry better informed them), and arrived that 
 evening at Mr. Norton's house, at Leigh, some three miles 
 from Bristol, and about thirty from Cirencester, which was 
 the desired end of this perilous journey. 
 
 At this place his majesty still continued under the notion 
 of one of Colonel Lane's tenant's sons, and, by a pre-settled 
 contrivance with Mrs. Lane, feigned himself sick of an ague, 
 under colour whereof she procured him the better chamber 
 and accommodation without any suspicion, and still took 
 occasion from thonce, with all possible care and observance, 
 to send the sick person some of the best meat from Mr. Nor- 
 ton's table ; and Mrs. Norton's maid, Margaret Rider (who 
 was commanded to be his nurse-keeper, and believed him sick 
 indeed), made "\Villiain a carduus posset, and was very careful 
 of him; nor was his majesty at all known or suspected here, 
 cither by Mr. Norton or his lady, from whose knowledge yet 
 he was not concealed out of any the least distrust of their 
 fidelity (for his whole dominions yielded not more faithful 
 subjects), but because such knowledge might haply at unawares 
 have drawn a greater respect and observance from them than 
 that exigent would safely admit of. 
 
 Under the disguise of this ague, his majesty for the most 
 part kept his chamber during his stay at Leigh; yet, being 
 somewhat wearied with that kind of imprisonment, one day 
 (when his ague might be imagined to be in the intermission), 
 he walked down to a place where the young men played at a
 
 ^-'4 DOSCOBEL. 
 
 game of ball called fives, where liis majesty was asked by one 
 of the gamesters if he could play, and would take his part ai 
 that game ; he pleaded unskilfulness, and modestly refused. 
 
 But behold an unexpected accident here fell out, which put 
 his majesty and Mrs. Lane into some apprehension of the 
 danger of a discovery. Mr. Norton's butler (whose name was 
 John Pope) had served a courtier some years before the war, 
 and his majesty's royal father in the war, under Colonel 
 Bagot, at Lichfield, and by that means had the physiognomy 
 of the king (then Prince of Wales) so much imprinted in his 
 memory, that (though his majesty was in all points most accu- 
 rately disguised), yet the butler knew him, and communicated 
 his knowledge to Mrs. Lane, who at first absolutely denied 
 him to be the king, but after, upon conference and advice had 
 with his majesty, it was thought best to acknowledge it to the 
 butler, and, by the bonds of allegiance, conjure him to secrecy, 
 who thereupon kissed the king's hand, and proved perfectly 
 honest. 
 
 On Saturday night (13th of September), the Lord Wilin<;t 
 arrived at a village near Leigh, where he lay, but came every 
 day to visit Will. Jackson and Mrs. Lane, as persons of his 
 acquaintance ; and so had the opportunity to attend and con- 
 sult with his majesty unsuspected during their stay at Leigh. 
 Soon after, upon serious advice had with my lord, it was 
 resolved by his majesty to go to Trent, the house of Colonel 
 Francis Wyndham (of whose fidelity his majesty had ample 
 assurance), which lies in Somersetshire, but bordering on tlie 
 very skirts of Dorsetshire, near Sherburn, and theiv. 
 judged to be conveniently seated in the way towards .1 . 
 and other port towns, where his majesty might probably take 
 shipping for France. 
 
 In pursuance of this resolve, the Lord Wilmot (as 
 majesty's harbinger) rode to Trent on Monday, to make 
 for his more private reception there; and Tuesday mor;: 
 (September 16), his majesty's ague being then (tis was pre- 
 tended) in the recess, he repaired to the stable, and there g 1 , 
 order for making ready the horses ; and then it was signified 
 from Mrs. Lane (though before so agreed), that William Jack- 
 son should ride single and carry the portmanteau ; accordingly 
 they mounted, being attended part of the way by one of Mr.
 
 BOSCOBEL. i>lii 
 
 Norton's men as a guide, and that day rode through the body 
 of Somersetshire, to Mr. Edward Kirton's house at Castle 
 Cary, near Burton, -where his majesty lay that night, and 
 next morning arrived at Colonel Wyndham's said house, which 
 was about twenty-six miles from Leigh. 
 
 His majesty was now at Trent, in as much safety as the 
 master of the house his fidelity and prudence could make him; 
 but the great work was how to procure a vessel for transport 
 ation of this great treasure. For this end his majesty, the 
 Lord "Wilmot, and Colonel ^Vyndham had several consults ; 
 and in pursuance of their determination, the colonel, with his 
 trusty servant Henry Peters, posted to Lime, which is about 
 twenty miles from Trent, where, after some difficulty, by the 
 assistance of Captain AVilliam Elsden, a loyal subject (at 
 whose house the colonel lodged), he hired a bark to transport 
 .his majesty for France, which bark was by agreement to 
 Attend at Charmouth (a little maritime village near Lime), at 
 a time appointed, and returned with all speed to Trent with 
 the good news. 
 
 The next day his majesty resolved for Lime, and Mrs. 
 lane Lane here humbly took her leave of him, returning with 
 Mr. Lassels, by his majesty's permission, into Staffordshire, 
 leaving him in faithful hands, and in a hopeful way of 
 escaping the bloody designs of merciless rebels, which as it 
 was all along the scope of her endeavours, so was it now the 
 subject of her prayers ; yet it was still thought the best 
 uise for his majesty to ride before some woman, and 
 accordingly Mrs. Julian Coningsby, Colonel Wyndham'fl 
 kinswoman, had the honour to ride behind his majesty, who 
 with the Lord AVilmot, the colonel, and Henry Peters, came 
 that evening to a blind inn in Charmouth, near which place 
 the skipper had promised to be in readiness with his bark ; 
 but observe the disappointment. 
 
 In the interim (whilst Colonel AVyudham was gone back 
 to Trent) it seems the rebels' proclamation for apprehending 
 Charles Stuart (meaning in their impudent phrase) our then 
 gracious king, and prohibiting, for a certain time, the trans- 
 portation of any person without a particular license, had been 
 published in and' about Lime: and the skipper having ac- 
 quainted his wife that he had agreed to transport two or
 
 0-.6 BOSCOBEL. 
 
 three persons into France, whom he believed might be 
 cavaliers, it seems the grey mare was the better horse, for she 
 locked up her husband in his chamber, and would by no 
 means permit him to go the voyage ; so that whilst Henry 
 Peters staid on the beach most part of the night, his majesty 
 and the rest of the company sat up in the inn, expecting 
 news of the seaman with his boat, who never appeared. 
 
 The next morning, his majesty and attendants resolving to 
 return to Trent, rode first to Bruteport, in Dorsetshire, where 
 he staid at an inn, whilst Henry Peters was sent back to 
 Captain Elsden, to see if there were any hope left of per- 
 suading the skipper, or rather of gaining leave of his wife, 
 for him to undertake the voyage ; but all endeavours proved 
 ineffectual, and by that time Harry returned, the day was so 
 far spent, that his majesty could conveniently reach no farther 
 that night than Broad- Windsor ; and (which added much to 
 the danger) Colonel Heane (one of Cromwell's commanders) 
 at this very time was marching rebels from several garrisons 
 to Weymouth and other adjacent ports, in order to their 
 being shipped, for the forcing the island of Jersey from his 
 majesty's obedience, as they had done all the rest of his 
 dominions ; so that the roads of this country were full or 
 soldiers. 
 
 Broad- Windsor afforded but one inn, and that the George, 
 a mean one too, and (which was worse) the best accommoda- 
 tions in it were, before his majesty's arrival, taken up by 
 rebel soldiers, one of whose doxies was brought to bed in the 
 house, which caused the constable and overseers for the poor 
 of the parish to come thither at an unseasonable hour of the 
 night, to take care that the brat might not be left to the 
 charge of the parish ; so that his majesty, through this dis- 
 turbance, went not to bed at all ; and we may safely conclude 
 he took as little rest here as he did the night before at Char- 
 mouth. Thus were " the tribulations of David's heart en- 
 larged," and he prayed, " Deliver me, Lord, from my 
 distresses." 
 
 His majesty having still thus miraculously escaped dangers 
 which hourly environed him, returned safe to Trent next 
 morning, where, after some refreshment and rest taken, he 
 was pleased to call my Lord Wilmot and Colonel Wyndham
 
 EOSCOBEL. 32 , 
 
 (the members of his little privy council) together, to consider 
 what way was next to be attempted for his transportation. 
 
 After several proposals, it was at last resolved that my 
 lord (attended and conducted by Henry Peters) should the 
 next day be sent to Salisbury to Mr. John Coventry (son to 
 the late Lord Coventry, lord keeper of the great seal of 
 England), who then lived in the close ef that city, and was 
 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 providing 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 wa.s. 
 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 of Common Pleas, whom they knew to 
 be both as discreet and as loyal as any of her sex. 
 
 With this resolution and advice, Mr. 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 pleased ; 
 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 ports of 
 Sussex were concluded to be the safer places for effecting this 
 great work of his majesty's delivery from the hands of such
 
 528 BOSCOBEL. 
 
 unparalleled rebels, who even ravenously thirsted after roy.il 
 blood. 
 
 In the interim Mr. Selleck returned with his majesty's re- 
 solution to come to Hele, signified by a like paper bullet ; 
 ami 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 w;iv- 
 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) 1>" 
 some of the ancient family of the Gerhards, Colonel Wyn<!-- 
 ham's lady's ancestors, who were recusants, and had formerly 
 been owners of that house. 
 
 His majesty'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 clivertisement of thi> 
 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 son 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 "Wincanton, 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 ho hc:;r'l 
 the men of Westminster (meaning the rebels), notwithstanding 
 their victory at Worcc-sior. were in a great inaze, not knowing
 
 B'-SCOBEL. 529 
 
 what was become of the king ; but (says he) it is the most 
 received opinion that he is come in a disguise to London, and 
 many houses have been searched for him there : at which his 
 majesty was observed to smile. 
 
 After dinner, mine host familiarly asked the king " if he- 
 were a friend to Caesar?" to which his majesty answered, 
 ' Yes." " Then," said he, " here's a health to King Charles." 
 in a glass of wine, which his majesty and the colonel both 
 pledged ; and that evening arrived in safety at Hele. And 
 his majesty, since his happy return, has been pleased to ask, 
 ' What was become of his honest host at Mere ?" 
 
 In the mean time the Lord AVilmot (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 Mr. 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. Ilenslow (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 great 
 ofh'ce of lord high treasurer of England) with this most im- 
 portant affair, my Lord AVilmot 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 command 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, Mr. Laurence Hyde recommended my Lord 
 "Wilniot to Colonel George Gunter, who lived at Rackton, 
 near Chichester, in Sussex, and was known to be both faith- 
 ful and active, not unlike to be successful in this service, to 
 whom therefore my lord hasted, ami lay at Rackton one ni^ht,
 
 530 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 Guuter happened to be the lucky 
 int'.n who first procured it, at Brightlielmstone, in Sussex, by
 
 uoscoui:r. 531 
 
 the assistance of Mr. Francis Manse!, merchant, of Chiches- 
 ter, and the concurrent endeavours of Mr. Thomas Gunter ; 
 and on Saturday night, the llth of October, he brought the 
 happy tidings to rny Lord "Wilmot and Colonel Philips, who 
 then lay, the one at Mr. Laurence Hyde's, the other at Mr. 
 Anthony Brown's house, his neighbour and tenant. 
 
 The next morning, being Sunday, Colonel Philips was 
 despatched to Hele, with the much-desired news, and with 
 instructions to attend his majesty on Monday to the Downs, 
 called Old Winchester, near WarnfonL 
 
 Early in the morning his majesty was privately conveyed 
 from Hele, and went on foot at least two miles to Clarendon 
 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 Guuter, 
 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 
 irood 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 Monday night, the 13th of October, were 
 heartily welcomed by Mrs. Symons, for her husband was not 
 then at home ; but by that time they had supped, in conies 
 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
 
 ;>32 BOSCOBEL. 
 
 beer was no stronger, and, to encourage it, fetched 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 
 uffs, somewhat like the meaner sort of country gentlemen. 
 
 Mr. Symons, in the time of entertaining his guests, did by 
 Jiance let fall an oath, for which Mr. Jackson took occ;; 
 modestly to reprove him. 
 
 His majesty, thus resting himself Monday night at Hamblo- 
 dou, early on Tuesday morning (October the 14th) prepared 
 for his journey to Brighthelmstone, 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 affair ; and then, 
 having also bidden farewell to Mr. Symons and his wife, took 
 horse, attended by my Lord Wilruot and his 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 (tho- 
 same day on which the noble Earl of Derby became a royal
 
 Bf.L. ;>33 
 
 martyr at Boulton), his majesty, having given particular 
 thanks to Colonel Guntcr for his great care, pains, and fide- 
 lity towards him, took shipping with the Lord Wilmot, in the 
 bark which lay in readiness fcr him at that harbour, and 
 v, hereof Mr. Nicholas Tetersal was owner ; and the next day, 
 v/itk an auspicious gale of wind, landed safely at Fecamp, 
 near Havre de Grace, in Normandy; where his majesty might 
 h:\ppily say with David, " Thou hast delivered me from the 
 violent man ; therefore will I sing praises to thy name, O 
 Lord." 
 
 This very bark, after his majesty's happy restoration, was 
 by Captain Tetersal brought into the river Thames, and lay 
 te months at anchor before Whitehall, to renew the memory 
 of the happy service it had 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 
 i'aithful Lord Wilmot, where he continued, incognito, several 
 days at Mr. 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- 
 -ed habit for one more befitting the dignity of so great a 
 king. 
 
 Upon the first intelligence of this welcome news, his high- 
 ness the Duke of York sent tys 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 hia dear mother the
 
 534 UOSCOBEL. 
 
 queen, his royal brotlier 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 
 .lit 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 
 o.vn 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 hen.p?,
 
 UGSCOBEL. 535 
 
 by the same bloody usurper, only for performing their duty to 
 their lawful king. In a word, there was no kind of misery 
 (but death itself) of which his majesty, in this horrible perse- 
 cution, did not in some measure, both in body, mind, and 
 estate, bear a very great share ; yet such was his invincible 
 patience in this time of trial, such his fortitude, that he over- 
 came them all with such pious advantage to himself, that their 
 memory is now sweet, and "it was good for him that he had 
 been afflicted." 
 
 Of these his majesty's sufferings and forced extermination 
 from his own dominions, England's great chancellor '" thus 
 excellently descants : 
 
 "We may tell those desperate wretches, who yet harbour 
 in their thoughts wicked designs against the sacred person of 
 the king, in order to the compassing their own imaginations, 
 that God Almighty would not have led him through so many 
 wildernesses of afflictions of all kinds, conducted him through 
 so many perils by sea, and perils by land, snatched him out 
 of the midst of this kingdom when it was not worthy of him, 
 and when the hands of his enemies were even upon him, when 
 they thought themselves so sure of him, that they would bid 
 so cheap and so vile a price for him. He would not in that 
 article have so covered him with a cloud, that he travelled 
 even with some pleasure and great observation through the 
 midst of his enemies. He would not so wonderfully have new 
 modelled that army ; so inspired their hearts, and the hearts 
 of the whole nation, with an honest and impatient longing for 
 the return of their dear sovereign, and in the mean time have 
 exercised him (which had little less of providence in it than 
 the other) w T ith those unnatural, or at least unusual, disrespects 
 and reproaches abroad, that he might have a harmless and an 
 innocent appetite to his own country, and return to his own 
 people, with a full value, and the whole unwasted bulk of his 
 affections, without being corrupted or biassed by extraordinary 
 foreign obligations. God Almighty would not have done all 
 this but for a servant whom he will always preserve as the 
 apple of his own eye, and always defend from the most secret 
 machinations of his enemies." 
 
 * Edward, Earl of Clarendon. See p. 291 of the Appendix to his 
 lordship's " History of the Grand Rebellion."
 
 USB U;:L. 
 
 Thus the best and happiest of orators. 
 
 Some may haply here expect I should have continued the 
 particulars of this history to the time of his majesty's happy 
 restoration, by giving an account of the reception his majesty 
 found from the several princes beyond the seas, during his 
 exile, and of his evenness of mind and prudent deportment 
 towards them upon all occasions ; but that was clearly beyond 
 the scope of my intention, which aimed only to write the 
 wonderful history of a great and good king, violently pursued 
 in his own dominions by the worst of rebels, and miraculously 
 preserved, under God, by the best of subjects. 
 
 In other countries, of which his majesty traversed not a 
 few, he found kindness and a just compassion of his adversity 
 from many, and from some a neglect and disregard ; yet, in 
 all the almost nine years abroad, I have not heard of any 
 passage that approached the degree of a miracle like that at 
 home ; therefore I may, with faith to my own intentions, not 
 improperly make a silent transition from his majesty's arrival 
 ut Paris, on the 13th day of October, 1651, to his return to 
 London on the 29th of May, 1660; and, with a Te Dcum 
 Zaudamus, sum up all, and say with the prophet : " My lord 
 the king is come again in peace to his own house." ' : " A:;<1 
 all the people shouted, and said, God save the king !"t 
 
 - : ; 1 1 Sim. is. 24.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 AXXE of Austria, notice of, 84, 323. 
 
 Aremberg, Prince d', 88. 
 
 Arlington, Lord, his character, 143 ; 
 his interview with Miss Stewart, 
 ib. ; notices of, 364 ; sends to 
 Holland for a wife, 144, .304. 
 
 Arscot, Duked', 88. 
 
 Arran, Earl of, notice of, 107, 344 ; 
 admirer of Lady Shrewsbury, 
 119 ; his remarks on Miss Hyde, 
 163, 164 ; plays the guitar, 174. 
 
 Arras, siege of, 85, 330. 
 
 Bagot, Miss, 217 ; her acquaintance 
 with Miss Hobart, 220 ; married 
 to Lord Falmouth, 221 ; notice of, 
 382. 
 
 Bapaume, notice of, 93, 331. 
 
 Bardou, Mad., maid of honour, 210 ; 
 quits the court, 216. 
 
 Barker, Mrs., notice of, 385. 
 
 Barry, Mrs. .notice of, 385. 
 
 Batteville. Baron de, notices of, 55, 
 
 327. 
 
 Bellenden, Miss, maid of honour, 
 210 ; quits the court, 216. 
 
 Berkley, Sir George, governed the 
 Duke of York, 106, 343. 
 
 Bidache, campaign at, 42, 327. 
 
 Blague, Col., notice of, 498. 
 
 Blague, Miss, plotted against by Miss 
 Hamilton, 125 ; notice of, 358 ; 
 intrigues with the Marquis de Bri- 
 sacier, 128 ; at the masquerade, 
 135 ; her eyes called 'marcassins,' 
 218; marries Sir Thomas Yarbo- 
 rough, 218. 
 
 Blood, Col., anecdotes of, 440. 
 
 Bold, John, assisted Charles II. 497. 
 
 Boscobel, origin of the name, 483 ; 
 oak of, 515. 
 
 Boynton, Miss, alluded to, 217 ; falls 
 in love with Talbot, 247 ; her 
 
 fainting fits, 279 ; marries Talbot, 
 320; notice of, 386, 415. 
 
 Brice, Gregorio, defended Lerida, 
 152. 
 
 Brinon, valet de chambre to Count 
 Grammont, 41 ; leaves Paris with 
 the Count, 43 ; reprimanded by 
 the Count, 44 ; tries to persuade 
 the Count from gaming, 47. 
 
 Brisacier, Marquis de, intrigues with 
 Miss Blague, 126, 128. 
 
 Brissac, Duke de, duped by Gram- 
 mont, 201. 
 
 Bristol, Earl of, his parties, 171, 368. 
 
 Brooks, Miss, notices of, 105, 350 ; 
 intrigues with the Duke of York, 
 171 ; marries Sir John Denham, 
 172. (See Denham. 
 
 Brounker follows Miss Jennings, 
 259 ; notices of, 392. 
 
 Buckhurst, See Dorset. 
 
 Buckingham, Duke of, dissipates his 
 estate, 106, 343 ; his familiarity 
 with Miss Stewart, 142 ; his buf- 
 foonery with Lady Muskerry, 272 ; 
 intrigues with Lady Shrewsbury, 
 297 ; kills her husband in a duel, 
 299 ; notices and anecdotes of, 
 361, 404; his talent for ridicule, 
 425 ; his proposal for stealing the 
 queen, 431 ; reproved by Charles 
 II., 453 ; escapes with Charles 
 from Worcester, 491. 
 
 Buckingham, Duchess of, notice of, 
 299, 404. 
 
 Bussi, his description of Grammont, 
 35 ; Voltaire's account of, 323. 
 
 Byron, Lady, notice of, 429. 
 
 Caesars deVend&me, notice of, 40,326. 
 
 Cameran, Count de, invited to sup- 
 per by Grammont, 51 ; loses at 
 quinze, 52.
 
 INDEX, 
 
 Careless, Major, alluded to, 462. 
 
 Carlingford, Lord, his stories to Miss 
 Stewart, 308 ; notice of, 406. 
 
 Carlis, Colonel, kills a sheep for the 
 king, 504 ; family of, 514. 
 
 Carnegy, Lady, See Soathesk. 
 
 Castlemaine, Countess of, her cha- 
 racter, 108, 347 ; intrigues with 
 Jacob Hall, 118 ; endeavours to 
 regain the king's affections, 146 ; 
 desires to appear in the king's car- 
 riage, 149 ; her partiality for Lord 
 Chesterfield, 159; quarrels with 
 the king about Jacob Hall and 
 Jermyn, 250 ; created Duchess of 
 Cleveland, 255 ; fondness for the 
 Duke of Monmouth, 295; brought 
 to bed, 309 ; intrigues with Chur- 
 chill, 310; informs the king of 
 Miss Stewart's intrigue with the 
 Duke of Richmond, 312 ; hated 
 by Catharine of Braganza, 437 ; 
 lost 25.000/. at gaming, 443 ; her 
 children by Charles, 446. 
 
 Catharine, the Infanta of Portugal, 
 her reception, 105, 339 ; her ap- 
 pearance at court, 109, 350 ; her 
 court, 110; endeavours to please 
 the king, 125 ; her severe illness, 
 145, 365 ; desires to appear in the 
 king's carriage, 149; her maids of 
 honour, 210 ; her residence at Tun- 
 bridge, 268 ; her melancholy fate, 
 299 ; visits Bristol, 300, 405 ; in- 
 tercedes for Miss Stewart, 315 ; 
 her marriage to Charles, 436 ; her 
 reception at Portsmouth, 437 ; ha- 
 tred to Lady Castlemaine, 437. 
 
 Cerise, master of the hotel at Lyons, 
 44. 
 
 Charles I., his execution, 422. 
 
 CHARLES II. ,PERSOXALMEMOIROF, 
 419 ; his birth and education, ib. ; 
 leaves England and joins his mo- 
 ther at Paris, 421 ; departs for 
 Holland, 422; invited to Scotland, 
 42 1 ; crowned at Scone, 481 ; heads 
 the Scottish army, 426; proclaimed 
 Icinsf at Worcester. 484 ; the battle 
 and defeat, 427, 489 ; escapes, 455, 
 
 483; White Ladys, 456, 493; dis- 
 guises himself, 457, 494 ; stays in 
 the wood of Boscobel, 458, 494, 
 498 ; his adventure with a miller, 
 
 459, 501 ; concealed by Mr. Woolf, 
 
 460, 502 ; his concealment in an 
 oak, 503 ; cooks the mutton, 505 ; 
 concealed by Mr. Pitchcroft (Whit- 
 greave), 462. 506 ; attended by the 
 Penderells, 507 ; by Colonel Lane, 
 
 463 ; adventure with a blacksmith, 
 
 464 ; attended by Mrs. Lane's sis- 
 ter, 464, 513 ; adventure at Mr. 
 Tombs', 522 ; stops at Mr. Nor- 
 ton's, 465, 523 ; adventure with 
 the butler, 4G6, 524 ; concealment 
 at Trent, 469, 524 ; disappointed 
 in a ship, 469, 471, 525 ; goes to 
 Burport, and adventure with an 
 ostler, 470 ; goes to Mrs. Hyde's, 
 471, 530 ; goes to Mr. Symons', 
 531; visits Stonehenge, 472; is 
 provided with a ship and proceeds to 
 Brighton, 473 ; embarks at Shore- 
 ham, 474, 533 ; reaches Rouen, 
 476, 533 ; residence on the conti- 
 nent, 427 ; his mistresses and ma- 
 trimonial projects there, 429 ; ad- 
 ventures at the Hague, 430 ; com- 
 munications with Monk, 432 ; pro- 
 claimed king at Whitehall, 433 ; 
 his restoration, 104, 332, 434; 
 his coronation, 105, 333 ; touches 
 for the evil, 435 ; marries Cathe- 
 rine of Braganza, 436 ; sells Dun- 
 kirk, 438 ; invites Lady Muskerry 
 to the masquerade, 127 ; attachment 
 to Miss .Stewart, 141 ; his court 
 described, 173 ; intrigues with Miss 
 Wells, 216 ; his attentions to Miss 
 Jennings, 225 ; his affection for 
 Lady Castlemaine on the decline, 
 250 ; neglects the queen, 299 ; 
 coldness of Miss Stewart, 311 ; 
 jealous of the Duke of Richmond, 
 312 ; discovers the duke with Miss 
 Stewart, 314 ; sends a squadron to 
 Guinea, 317 ; pardons Miss Stew- 
 art, 316 ; his illness and death, 
 444; his children enumerated, 446;
 
 >39 
 
 miscellaneous anecdotes of the 
 king, -147. 
 
 Chesterfield, Lord, description of, 
 159,3(57; his jealousy excited, 160, 
 ] 74 ; tells Hamilton of his wife's 
 green stockings, 182 ; of her in- 
 discretions with the Duke of York, 
 1S2; his conduct exposed in bal- 
 lads, 189. 
 
 Chesterfield, Lady, notices of, 109, 
 305 ; her intrigue with Hamilton, 
 144 ; intrigues with the Duke of 
 York, 158; with Hamilton, 160 ; 
 her advances to the Duke of York, 
 1 ~,'.\ ; her guitar, 174; her green 
 stockings, 178; her billet to Hamil- 
 ton, 180 ; her indiscretions with 
 the Duke of York, 182; carried 
 by her husband into the country, 
 : writes to Hamilton, 193 ; 
 her trick upon him, 195. 
 Chiffinch, alluded to, 313 ; notices 
 
 of, 413. 
 
 Churchill, intrigues with Lady Castle- 
 maine, 309 ; banished the court, 
 310 ; notices of, 406. 
 Churchill, Miss, intrigues with the 
 Duke of York, 274 ; her adven- 
 ture, 282 ; notices of, 398. 
 Clarendon, Earl of, prime minister, 
 106, 341 ; his poverty at Brussels, 
 429 ; his disgrace, 439 ; anecdote 
 of, 450. 
 
 snd, Earl of, attempts to escape 
 from Worcester, 497. 
 Cleveland, Duchess of, See Castle- 
 in aine. 
 Colepepper, Lord, quarrels with 
 
 Prince Rupert, 422. 
 Comminse, the French ambassador, 
 
 148, 365. 
 
 C'onde, Prince de, notice of, 83, 328 ; 
 visited by Grammont, 90 ; de- 
 feated by Turenne, 93 ; besieges 
 Lerida, 152,366. 
 Corbeta, Francisco, the Italian mu- 
 sician, 174 ; his saraband, 190. 
 Cornv;allis, Lord, his memory re- 
 spected by Grammont, 209 ; notice 
 of, : 
 
 oventry, Sir John, anecdote of, 
 440 ; advises Charles on his es- 
 cape. 527 ; finds a ship for the 
 king's escape, 527. 
 
 rofts, William, notices of, 308,406. 
 Cromwell, his government, 103 ; de- 
 feats Charles I. at Worcester, 427, 
 486 ; plots against him, 42S. 
 
 romwell, Richard, proclaimed pro- 
 tector, 431 ; pamphlet concerning 
 him called " Oliver's Ghost," 431. 
 
 romwell, Frances, Charles II. 's at- 
 tachment to, 429. 
 
 rosby, Mr., preaches before Charles 
 at Worcester, 485. 
 
 Davis, Miss, alluded to, 311 ; no- 
 tices and anecdotes of, 412 ; her 
 children by Charles, 446. 
 
 Denham, Sir John, marries Miss 
 Brooks, 172 ; notice and anec- 
 dotes of, 369. 
 
 Denham, Lady, her discovery of 
 Lady Chesterfield's indiscretions, 
 182; poisoned by her husband, 
 192, 374. 
 
 Derby, Earl of, reaches Boscobel, 
 483; taken prisoner and tried by a 
 court-martial, 495. 
 
 Dillon, alluded to, 120. 
 
 D'Olonne, Count, notice of, 114, 
 354. 
 
 Donsan, notice of, 218 ; loved by 
 Price, 219. 
 
 Dorset, Lord, exposes Lord Chester- 
 field in ballads, 189 ; notices and 
 anecdotes of, 371 ; debauches Nell 
 Gwynn, 310. 
 
 Downing, Sir George, his adventure 
 with Charles II., 431. 
 
 Drydeu, anecdote of, 452. 
 
 Duncan, notice of, 132, 359. 
 
 Du Plessis Pralin, notices of, 37, 
 324. 
 
 Duppa, Brian, tutor to Prince 
 Charles, 420. 
 
 Durfort, Earl of Feversham, notices 
 of, 219, 382. 
 
 Elliott, Mr. Humphrey, lends the 
 Earl of Derby 10/., 484.
 
 .040 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Etherege, Sir George, exposes Lord 
 Chesterfield in ballads, 1S9 ; no- 
 tices and anecdotes of, 373. 
 
 Fairfax, alluded to, 421. 
 
 Falmouth, his love for Miss Hamil- 
 ton, 140 ; brings an offer of a pen- 
 sion to Grammont from the king, 
 147 ; advises the Duke of York on 
 his marriage, 163 ; marries Miss 
 Bagot, 221. 
 
 Fielding, Miss, notice of, 217. 
 
 Fiesque, Countess de, notice of, 114, 
 354. 
 
 Flamarens, Marquis de, attempts to 
 rival Grammont, 204 ; notices and 
 anecdotes of, 375. 
 
 Fox, Sir Stephen, notices of, 209, 
 379. 
 
 France, its position in the time of 
 Grammont, 36. 
 
 Francisco, See Corbeta. 
 
 Gaboury, alluded to, 95. 
 
 Garde. Mad. de la, maid of honour, 
 210, 380; her charge to Miss 
 Stewart, 211 ; marries Mr. Sil- 
 vius, 216. 
 
 George, Prince of Denmark, anec- 
 dote of, 447. 
 
 Gibbs, Miss, alluded to, 320, 415. 
 
 Giffard, Mr., takes the king to White 
 Ladys, 493 ; taken prisoner, but 
 escapes, 495 ; his loyalty, 5'10. 
 
 Gigeri, expedition of, 317, 415. 
 
 Gloucester, Duke of, his death, 105, 
 338. 
 
 Grammont, Count, his first cam- 
 paign, 30 ; his qualities admired 
 and imitated, 37 ; his acquaintance 
 with Malta, ib. ; fondness for play, 
 38 ; gives an account of his life to 
 Malta, -10 ; plays at backgammon 
 with the horse-merchant, 45 ; in- 
 vites Count de Cameran to supper, 
 50 ; visits Marshal Turenne, 54 ; 
 wins fifteen horses, 55 ; goes to 
 Turin with Malta, 56 ; intrigues 
 with Madame de St. Germain, 58 ; 
 and with the Marchioness de Se- 
 
 nantes, 68 ; plays a trick on Mat- 
 ta, 70 ; plans for arresting Matta 
 and the Marquis de Senantes, 79 ; 
 returns to France, 83 ; joins Tu- 
 renne, 87 ; visits Conde, 90 ; pur- 
 sued by the enemy near Ba- 
 paume, 94 ; his receplion by Ma- 
 zarine, 96 ; banished from the 
 French court, 101; visits Eng- 
 land, 103 ; his receplion there, 
 110 ; intrigues with Mrs. Middle- 
 ton, 115 ; is rivalled by Montague, 
 121 ; falls in love with Miss Ha- 
 milton, ib. ; invited by the king to 
 the masquerade, 124 ; rivalled by 
 the two Russells, 137 ; advised by St. 
 Evremond, and answers him, 141; 
 receives an offer of a pension from 
 the king, 147; presents a magnifi- 
 cent calash to the king, 149 ; story 
 of his link-boy, 150; story of 
 Poussatin, his chaplain, 152 ; adds 
 verses to Francisco's saraband, 
 187, 190 ; his story of Madame de 
 1'Orme, 200 ; the only foreigner 
 in fashion, 204 ; is rivalled by 
 Talbot, 206 ; his way of refreshing 
 memories, 209 ; mediates between 
 the king and Lady Castlemaine, 
 251 ; recalled to France, 283 ; 
 adventure on his journey, 287 ; 
 his adventure at Vaugirard, 293 ; 
 returns to England, ib. ; adven- 
 ture in a gaming-house, 302 ; 
 persuades Hamilton against Mi-.-, 
 Stewart, 304 ; marries Miss Ham- 
 ilton, 320 ; Hamilton's epistle to, 
 18 ; notices and anecdotes of, 
 415. 
 
 Grammont, Marshal de. notice of, 
 152, 366 ; meets the Count, 291. 
 
 Granville, Sir Jas., his interviews 
 with Monk, 433. 
 
 Guinea, expedition to, 305, 406, 319, 
 415. 
 
 Guise, Duke of, notice of, 149. 
 
 Gunter, Col., alluded to, 472-3; 
 assists Charles in his escape, 529 ; 
 rewarded for his loyalty, 533. 
 
 Gvvynn, Nell, alluded to, 269, 311 ;
 
 l.NDKX. 
 
 541 
 
 notices of, 407 ; anecdotes of, 410 ; 
 her children by Charles, 446. 
 
 Hall, Jacob, the rope dancer, 118, 
 356. 
 
 Hamilton, James, intrigues with the 
 Countess of Chesterfield, 144, 365'; 
 cured by her of his regard for Lady 
 Castlemaine, 159 ; jealous of the 
 Duke of York, 173; taken into 
 I ..ord Chesterfield's confidence, 176; 
 hears of Miss Stewart's legs, 179 ; 
 writes to Lady Chesterfield, ib. ; 
 advises Lord Chesterfield to take 
 his wife to the country, 184 ; re- 
 ceives a letter from Lady Chester- 
 rield, 193 ; follows her to her re- 
 treat, 195 ; his adventure, 196; is 
 duped and undeceived, 199 ; his at- 
 tentions to Miss Stewart, 301 ; 
 meets Grammont in a gaming-house 
 303 ; persuaded to relinquish Miss 
 Stewart, 304 ; holds two candles 
 in his mouth, 306 ; causes of his 
 love for her, 307. 
 
 Hamilton, George, intrigues with 
 Mrs. Wetenhall, 266 ; marries Miss 
 Jennings, 320 ; notices of, 394. 
 
 Hamilton, Anthony, memoir of, 1. 
 
 Hamilton, Duke of, raises an army, 
 421 ; killed at Worcester, 489. 
 
 Hamilton, Miss, notice of, 109 ; at- 
 tracts Grammont, 121, 357 ; plots 
 against Lady Muskerry, and Miss 
 Blague, 125 ; attracts the Duke 
 of York, 137; proposal made her 
 by Russell, 156 ; her portrait by 
 Lely, 191 ; refuses the proposals of 
 Tambonneau, 205 ; is loved by 
 Talbot, 206 ; returns to London, 
 262 ; visits Lord Muskerry, 268 ; 
 dresses Lady Muskerry for the ball, 
 271 ; marries Count Grammont, 
 320. 
 
 Harvey, Dr. W., anecdote of, 421. 
 
 Henchman, Dr. his loyalty, 527. 
 
 Henrietta of Orange, Charles II. 's 
 proposals to, 430. 
 
 Henrietta, daughter of Charles I., 
 notices of, 292, 399. 
 
 Henrietta Maria, the queen dowager, 
 her state in France, 108, 346 ; re- 
 turns to England, 61 ; asks Gram- 
 mont concerning his equipage, 150. 
 
 Henry IV. alluded to, 40. 
 
 Henslow, Mr. his loyalty, 529. 
 
 Hobart, Miss, notice of, 217; her 
 character, 220 ; insinuations con- 
 cerning her, 221 ; advises Miss 
 Temple, 228 ; overheard by Miss 
 Sarah, 236 ; frustrated by Ro- 
 chester. 240 ; her disgrace, 245 ; in 
 the confidence of the Duchess of 
 York, 275. 
 
 Hobbes, instructed Prince Charles, 
 420. 
 
 Hopitat, Mad. de, alluded to, 293. 
 
 Hortensia, niece to Mazarine, pro- 
 posals to, by Charles II., 430. 
 
 Howard, Henry, notices of, 140,360. 
 
 Howard, Thomas, a lover of Lady 
 Shrewsbury 119, 356 ; his duel, 
 120. 
 
 Huddleston, Mr. John, alluded to, 
 445, 462, 499, 511 ; changes the 
 king's dress, 508 ; family of, 513. 
 
 Hughes, Miss, intrigues with Prince 
 Rupert, 269; notices of, 397. 
 
 Humieres, Marquis de, commanded 
 under Turenne, 87, 331. 
 
 Hurlston, Father, alluded to, 445. 
 
 Hyde, Miss, acknowledged by the 
 Duke of York, 106,340; taken 
 with Jermyn, 108, 347; her mar- 
 riage, 162. See Duchess of York. 
 
 Hyde, Mrs., intrigues with Jermy; , 
 118, 356. 
 
 Hyde, Mr. Laurence, his loyalty, 5 2'. 1 , 
 his wife recognizes Charles, 530. 
 
 Hyde Park, the promenade of Lon- 
 don, 148, 365. 
 
 Jennings, Miss, description of, 222 ; 
 notices and anecdotes of, 383 ; re- 
 fuses the Duke of York, 224 ; loved 
 by Talbot, 247 ; offends him, 249 ; 
 falls in love with Jermyn, 253 ; 
 disguises herself as an orange-girl 
 and visits Rochester with Mi.-s 
 Price, 25 7 ; meets Sidney ami
 
 542 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 grew, 258; meets Brounker, 259; 
 illness of her lover, 273 ; refuses 
 Talbot, 2/9 ; refuses Jermyn, 318 ; 
 marries George Hamilton, 320. 
 
 Jermyn, Henry, notice of, 108,347 ; 
 intrigues with Miss Hyde, 118; 
 intrigues with Lady Shrewsbury, 
 119 ; his duel, 120 ; notice of, 163 ; 
 his conquest of Miss Jennings, 
 253 ; his wager, 277 ; refused by 
 Miss Jennings, 318; marries a 
 country girl, 320. 
 
 Jones, Mr., intrigues with Mrs. Mid- 
 dleton, 115. 
 
 Katharine of Braganza, See Catha- 
 rine. 
 
 Killegrew, Thomas, his observations 
 on Miss Hyde, 163, 165; his 
 cousin falls in love with Miss 
 Warmestre, 212; marries her, 
 215 ; employed by Rochester to 
 undeceive Miss Temple, 240 ; 
 meets Miss Jennings, 258 ; in- 
 trigues with Lady Shrewsbury, 
 296 ; wounded by an assassin, 
 298 ; notices and anecdotes of, 
 402. 
 
 Killegrew, Elizabeth, notice of, 429. 
 
 Kirk, Miss, See Warmestre. 
 
 La Motte Houdancount, maid of 
 honour, 101, 332, 513. 
 
 La Motte, recognized by Grammont, 
 88. 
 
 Lane, Colonel, alluded to, 463. 501. 
 
 Lane, Mrs., journeys with Charles 
 II., 464, 521 ; leaves Mr. Lassells 
 with him, 468 ; parts with the 
 kin:;, 525. 
 
 Lassells, Mr., accompanies Charles 
 II. in his escape, 465, 521. 
 
 La Venerie, entertainment at, 60 ; 
 description of, 328. 
 
 Lely, Sir Peter, paints Miss Hamil- 
 ton's portrait, with other court 
 beauties, 191 ; notices of, 374. 
 
 Leopold, the Archduke, 85, 330. 
 
 Lesley, commander of the Scottish 
 
 troops, 424 ; retires to Scotland, 
 
 492. 
 
 Leti, Gregorio, anecdote of, 449. 
 Levingston, Miss, notice of, 217. 
 L'Orme, Madame de, Grammont's 
 
 story of, 200 ; notice of, 375. 
 Louis XIII., notice of, 36, 323. 
 Louis XIV., his marriage, 99, 332. 
 Lussan, alluded to, 90. 
 Luynes, alluded to, 204. 
 Lyttleton, Sir Charles, his partiality 
 
 for Miss Temple, 232 ; marries 
 
 her, 320. 
 
 | Mallett, Eliz., alluded to, 320, 415. 
 Mansel, provides a bark for Charles 
 
 II. 's escape, 473, 531. 
 Marshall, Mrs., loved by the Earl of 
 
 Oxford, 230, 384. 
 Mary, the Princess Dowager, her 
 
 death, 105, 339. 
 Mary, the Princess Royal, is attracted 
 
 by Jermyn, 108. 
 Matta, his acquaintance; with Count 
 
 Grammont, 37 ; anecdotes of, 326 ; 
 
 his dream, 39 ; his jest with Count 
 
 de Cameran, 53 ; goes to Turin 
 
 with Grammont, 55 ; intrigues 
 
 with the Marchioness de Senantes, 
 
 58 ; sups with the Marquis, 72 ; 
 
 sups with him a second time, 77 ; 
 
 arrested by the contrivance of 
 
 Grammont, 79. 
 Mazarine, Cardinal, his policy, 84, 
 
 329 ;his death, 99. 
 Mazarine, Peter, allusion to, 30, 97. 
 Melo, Francisco de, alluded to, 109. 
 Meneville, notices of, 101, 332. 
 Middlesex, See Dorset. 
 Middleton, Mrs., notice of, 109, 
 
 355 ; intrigues with Grammont, 
 
 115. 
 Monk, effects the king's restoration, 
 
 433. 
 Monmouth, Duke of, natural son of 
 
 the king, 294 ; retires from Lady 
 
 Castlemaine, 295 ; marries, 296 ; 
 
 notices and anecdotes of, 399 ; 
 
 employs Sands to waylay Coven- 
 try, 440.
 
 IM)EX. 
 
 543 
 
 Montague, intrigues with Mrs. Mid- 
 dleton, 121,351 ; made the queen's 
 master of horse, 280 ; notices of, 
 398. 
 
 Montmorency, Duke of, notice of, 91 , | 
 331. 
 
 Muskerry, Lord, notice of, 127; his 
 seat at Summer-hill, 268, 395 ; en- 
 deavours to prevent his lady's 
 dancing, 270. 
 
 Muskerry, Lady, plotted against by 
 Miss Hamilton, 125 ; notice of, | 
 358 ; goes to the ball, 134 ; her 
 pregnancy, 270 ; dressed for the | 
 ball^ 27 1 '; adventures at the ball, ' 
 272. 
 
 Newcastle, Earl of, governor of 
 
 Prince Charles, 420. 
 Newcastle, Duchess of, notice of, 135, 
 
 359. 
 Norton. Mr., harbours Charles II., 
 
 465, 521. 
 Norton, Mrs., her miscarriage, 467. 
 
 Gates, Titus, anecdotes of, 441. 
 Ormond, Duke of, notice of, 106, 341'; 
 
 offended by Talbot, 207, 379. 
 '^monde, Marquis of, subdued by 
 
 Cromwell, 423. 
 Os-sory, Earl of, notice of, 107, 165, 
 
 r,44. 
 
 Oxford, Earl of, his cruelty to 
 Roxana, 230, 384; his unjust 
 marriage, 231. 
 
 to, 504 ; the old good- wife, alluded 
 to, 500. 
 
 Penn, Wm., anecdote of, 448. 
 
 Pepys, his account of Charles II. 's 
 escape from Worcester, 455. 
 
 Peronne, notice of, 85,330. 
 
 Petre, Mr., accompanies Charles on 
 his escape, 521 ; disappointed in 
 meeting the ship, 525. 
 
 Philips, Col. alluded to, 471, 472, 532. 
 
 Pitchcroft, Mr., harbours Charles II., 
 462. 
 
 Pope, the butler at Mr. Norton's, 
 465 ; discovers the king, 466, 524. 
 
 Portsmouth, Duchess of, her children 
 by Charles II., 446. 
 
 Portuguese attendants on the Infanta, 
 109. 
 
 Potter, John, alluded to, 4 70. 
 
 Poussattin, story of, 152. 
 
 Price, Miss, her variance with Miss 
 Blague, 131, 136; notice of, 217, 
 359 ; provokes Lord Rochester, 
 218 ; her love for Dongan, and 
 her love trinkets discovered, 219 ; 
 her acquaintance with Miss Jen- 
 nings disliked by Talbot, 249 ; 
 her maid visits Rochester, 256 ; 
 disguises herself as an orange-girl, 
 and visits him with Miss Jennings, 
 257 ; they meet Sidney and Kille- 
 grew, 258 ; meet Brounker, 259. 
 
 Progers, notices of, 217, 381 
 
 Pyrenees, peace of, 99, 331. 
 
 Panetra, Countess de, alluded to, 
 109. 
 
 Pan, the college of, 40, 326. 
 
 Peg, Catherine, notice of, 429 ; her 
 children by Charles II., 446. 
 
 Penderells, family of,456, 514 ; attend 
 Charles on his escape, 507 ; on his 
 restoration, 515; Richard, assists! 
 Charles in his escape, 459, 493 ; 
 obtains him some victual?, 498 ; | 
 William, receives the Earl of 
 Derby, 483 ; shaved the king, 504 ; 
 loyalty of, 515 ; steals a sheep for j 
 the king, 505; John, assists Lord 
 Wilmot, 4P9 : Humphrey, alluded 
 
 Richelieu, Cardinal de, notice of, 36 ; 
 Hume's description of, 324, 
 
 Richmond, Duke of, falls in love with 
 Miss Stewart, 211; notice of, 
 380 ; his intrigue with Miss Stew- 
 art discovered by the king, 31 3 ; 
 banished the court, 315; marries 
 her, 320. 
 
 Robarts, Lord, his character, 1 70. 
 
 Robarts, Lady, intrigues with the 
 Duke of York, 170; notice of, 
 36S ; taken by her husband to 
 Wale?, 171. 
 
 Roberts, Mrs., notice of, 109. 
 
 Rochester, Lord, exposes [.ord
 
 544 
 
 JNJ)i-:x, 
 
 Chesterfield in ballads, 189 ; no- 
 tices and anecdotes of, 370 ; is 
 provoked by Miss Price, 218 ; in- 
 trigues with Miss Bagot, 221 ; in- 
 trigues with Miss Temple, 226 ; 
 she is warned of him by Miss 
 Hobart, 232 ; hears of Miss Ho- 
 bart's falsehoods from Miss Sarah, 
 237; meets Miss Temple, 238; 
 undeceives her by means of Kille- 
 grew, 240 ; banished the court, 
 246 ; his residence in the city, 
 
 254 ; sets up for a German doctor, 
 
 255 ; visited by the chambermaids 
 of the maids of honour, 256 ; mar- 
 ries a melancholy heiress, 320 ; in- 
 trigues with Miss Barry, 246, 385 ; 
 his speech as a mountebank, on 
 Tower-hill, 387 ; his jest on 
 diaries II., 447. 
 
 Rowley, nickname of Charles II., 
 450. 
 
 Roxana, an actress loved by the Earl 
 of Oxford, 230 ; her pretended 
 marriage, 231, 384. 
 
 Royale, Madame, her disposition, 57 ; 
 orders Matta and the Marquis de 
 Senantes to be arrested, 79. 
 
 Rupert, Prince, notices of, 129, 358 ; 
 intrigues with Miss Hughes, 269 ; 
 sent to Guinea, 317; anecdotes 
 of, c., 396 ; quarrels with Cole- 
 pepper, 422. 
 
 Russells, the uncle and nephew, rivals 
 of Grammont, 137 ; notices of, 
 360 ; uncle, proposes to Miss 
 Hamilton, 156 ; leaves the court, 
 158. 
 
 Russell, Lord, his execution, 443. 
 
 Rye-house plot, discovery of, 443. 
 
 Saucourt, his amour, 293. 
 
 Savoy, the Duchess of, gives an en- 
 tertainment, 60. 
 
 Scoto, Lady Anne, notices of, 295, 
 402. 
 
 Sedley, Sir Charles, exposes Lord 
 Chesterfield in ballads, 189 ; no- 
 tices and anecdotes of, 372. 
 
 Selleck, his message to Charles II., 
 528. 
 
 Senantes, Marquis de, is piqued with 
 Matta, 61 ; invites Matta to sup- 
 per, 70 ; invites Matta and Gram- 
 mont to supper, 77 ; arrested by 
 the contrivance of Grammont, 79. 
 
 Senantes, Marchioness de, her in- 
 trigue with Matta, 58 ; her ron- 
 deau, 66 ; listens to Count Gram- 
 mont, 68. 
 
 Shaftesbury, Lord, anecdotes of, 440. 
 451. 
 
 Shrewsbury, Lord, killed by Buck- 
 ingham in a duel, 299. 
 
 Shrewsbury, Lady, notices of, 109, 
 349; her lovers, 119; intrigues 
 with Killegrew, 296; with the 
 Duke of Buckingham, 297. 
 
 Sidney, the beau, notice of, 107, 346 ; 
 follows Miss Jennings, 259 ; in- 
 trigues with the Duchess of York, 
 275 ; appointed master of horse to 
 her, 281. 
 
 Sidney, Algernon, his execution, -1 1:>. 
 
 Silva, Pedro de, called Peter of the 
 Wood, 109. 
 
 Silvius, Mr., marries Mad. de la. 
 Garde, 216 ; notice of, 380. 
 
 Snead, Mr., brings the Earl of Derby 
 to Boscobel, 483. 
 
 Southampton, Lord, offers his ser- 
 vices to Charles II., 473. 
 
 Southesk, Lord, his jealousy, 167; 
 his revenge on his wife, 169. 
 
 Southesk, Lady, intrigues with the 
 Duke of York, 167 ; discovered by 
 her husband, 169. 
 
 Spring Gardens, notice of, 119, 357. 
 
 Sft. Albans, Earl of, notice of, 106, 
 342 ; anecdote of, 448. 
 
 Staunton, Mr., his sheep stolen by 
 Penderell, 505 ; refuses to receive 
 payment, 514. 
 
 St. Chaumont, Mad. de, recals Gram- 
 mont, 283 ; her indiscretion, 292. 
 
 Stewart, Miss, notice of, 109 ; lovi-J 
 by the king, 117, 141 ; her chiid- 
 i ishness, 142 ; her hopes on the 
 death of the queen, 145 ; desires to
 
 INDKX. 
 
 54o 
 
 appear in the king's carriage, 149 ; 
 discussion about her legs, 178 ; 
 jealousy of Miss Jennings, 225 ; 
 alluded to, 269 ; meridian of her 
 glory, 296 ; goes with the court to 
 Bristol, 300 ; attracts the atten- 
 tions of Hamilton, 301, 304 ; her 
 childish amusements, 306 ; her cold- 
 ness to the king, 311; discovered 
 with the Duke of Richmond by the 
 king, 313 ; receives pardon from 
 the queen, 315 ; marries the Duke 
 of Richmond, 320 ; her marriage 
 related by Evelyn, 414 ; her form 
 representing Britannia, 451. 
 
 St. Evremont, his description of 
 Grammont, 35, 111, 352; his ad- 
 vice to Grammont, 112, 138 ; his 
 solid wit, 205. 
 
 St. Germain, Madame de, intrigues 
 with Grammont, 58. 
 
 Stillingfleet, anecdote of, 443. 
 
 Summer-hill, the seat of Lord Mus- 
 kerry, 395. 
 
 Suze, Countess de la, notices of, 204, 
 377. 
 
 Symons, Mr., harbours the king, 531. 
 
 Taafe, Lord, intrigues with Miss 
 Warmestre, 211 ; forsakes her, 
 213 ; notice of, 380. 
 
 Talbot, his remarks on Miss Hyde, 
 163, 164, 367 ; attends the Duke 
 of York on a visit to Lady 
 Southesk, 168 ; falls in love with 
 Miss Hamilton, 206 ; notices of, 
 378 ; offends the Duke of Ormond, 
 207, 379 ; sent to the Tower, 208 ; 
 loses 300 guineas to Grammont, 
 il>. ', returns from Ireland, 246 ; 
 attracts Miss Boynton, 247 ; falls 
 in love with Miss Jennings, ib. ; 
 advises her to beware of Miss 
 Price, 249 ; renews his acquaint- 
 ance with her, 278 ; marries Miss 
 Boynton, 320. 
 
 Talbot, Peter, notices of, 207, 379. 
 
 , Thomas, notices of, 207,379. 
 
 , Lord, alluded to, 492, 497. 
 
 Tambonncau, attempts to rival 
 2 N 
 
 Grammont, 204 ; proposals to 
 Miss Hamilton, 205 ; notice of, 
 377. 
 
 Tanes, Count de, notice of, 57. 
 
 Tauravedez, See Silva. 
 
 Temple, Miss, description of, 222 ; 
 notice of, 384 ; her wit and per- 
 son, 226 ; intrigues with Lord 
 Rochester, 227 ; acquaintance with 
 Miss Hobart, ib. ; warned by her 
 against Rochester, 228 ; discovers 
 that she has been deceived, 240 ; 
 adventure with Miss Hobart at 
 midnight, 244 ; her maid visits 
 Rochester, 256 ; marries Littleton, 
 320. 
 
 Termes, valet to Grammont, 124; 
 sent by Grammont to France, 
 129 ; his story of the quicksand, 
 133 ; his roguery discovered, 287 ; 
 his explanation, 290. 
 
 Tettershall, Captain of the bark by 
 which Charles II. escaped, 4/3, 
 533. 
 
 Thanet, Lord, notice of, 129, 355. 
 
 Thomas, Prince, commander of the 
 army, 36, 324. 
 
 Tombs, Mr., Charles II. 's adven- 
 ture at his house, 523. 
 
 Toulongeon, brother of Grammont, 
 notices of, 139, 141, 360. 
 
 Trino, siege of, 36, 37, 324 ; surren- 
 ders, 55. 
 
 Turenne, Viscount, notice of, 37 ; 
 is visited by Grammont, 54 ; com- 
 mands the anny against Conde, 
 86 ; defeats Condg, 93 ; Voltaire's 
 character of, 325. 
 
 Vendome, Caesar de, notices of, 40, 
 
 326. 
 Viner, Sir Robert, anecdote of, 149. 
 
 Walters, Lucy, notice of, 429; her 
 children by Charles, 446. 
 
 Walton, Isaac, alluded to, 498. 
 
 Warmestre, Miss, attracts Gram- 
 mont, 116 ; brought to bed, 139 ; 
 intrigues with Lord Taafe, 211; 
 loved by Killegrew, 212 , brought
 
 54G 
 
 INDICX. 
 
 to bed, 214 ; forsaken by Taafe, 
 
 and marries Killegrew, 215. 
 Warner, Sir John, anecdote of, 451. 
 Wells, Miss, intrigues with the 
 
 king, 216. 
 Wetenhall, Mr., his ecclesiastical 
 
 history, 262, 393. 
 , Mrs., a relation of Miss 
 
 Hamilton, 262 ; goes to London, 
 
 265 ; intrigues with Hamilton, 
 
 266 ; returns to Peckham, 267 ; 
 visits Lord Muskerry, 268 ; notice 
 of, 393. 
 
 Whitgreave, Mr., harbours Lord 
 Wilmot, 500 ; family of, 513. 
 
 William, Prince of Orange, anecdote 
 of, 441. 
 
 Wilmot, Lord, his escape after the 
 Battle of Worcester, 458 ; har- 
 boured by Mr. Pitchcroft, 461 ; 
 his loyal devotion, 509 ; assisted 
 by John Penderell, 499 ; meets the 
 king at Bentley, 520 ; seeks means 
 for Charles's escape, 529 ; escapes 
 to France, 475, 533. 
 
 Windham, Frank, his advice to 
 Charles II., 468 ; harbours the 
 king, 524. 
 
 Woolfe, Mr., harbours Charles II., 
 460, 502. 
 
 Wren, Sir C., anecdote of, 450. 
 
 Yarborough, Sir Thos., marries Miss 
 Blague, 218 ; Yates, assists Charles 
 in his escape, 498. 
 
 York, Duke of, commanded under 
 Turenne, 87, 331 ; his character, 
 105, 340; his attentions to Miss 
 Hamilton, 137 ; falls in love with 
 Lady Chesterfield, 158 ; his mar- 
 riage, 162, 367 ; intrigues with 
 Lady Southesk, 167; discovered 
 by her husband, 1 69 ; intrigues with 
 Lady Robarts, 1 70 ; with Miss 
 Brooks, 171; fondness for the 
 guitar, 174; criticises Miss Stew- 
 art's legs, 178; renews his atten- 
 tions to Miss Hamilton, 1*11 ; in- 
 trigues with Lady Denham, id. ; 
 proposals to Miss Jennings, 223 ; 
 journeys to the other side of Lon- 
 don, 273, 398 ; intrigues with 
 Miss Churchill, 274 ; sends to 
 Charles on his escape to France, 
 434. 
 
 York, Duchess of, notices of, 110, 
 352; description of, 162 ; employs 
 Sir Peter Lely, 191 ; her maids 01 
 honour, 217 ; defends Miss Ho- 
 bart, 245 ; fondness for eating, 
 2/4 ; intrigues with Sidney, 275. 
 
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