q920.7 J239c COURT BEAUTIES CHARLES II. COURT BEAUTIES OF THE REIGN OF CHARLES II. OF THE REIGN OF CHARLES II. FROM THE ORIGINALS IN THE ROYAL GALLERY AT WINDSOR, BY SIR PETER LELY AND OTHERS. ENGRAVED IN THE HIGHEST STYLE OF ART BY THOMSON, WRIGHT, SCRIVEN, B. HOLL, WAGSTAFF, AND T. A. DEANE. WITH MEMOIRS BY MRS. JAMESON. AUTHOR OF " LEGENDS OF THE MADONNA," " MEMOIRS OF THE EARLY ITALIAN PAINTERS," ETC. PRESENTATION EDITION. LONDON: JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, 74 and 75, PICCADILLY. COURT B E AU TI E S CHISWICK PRESS :�PRINTED BY WHITTINGHAM AND WILKINS, TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. PORTRAITS AND MEMOIRS. PAGE ItJEEN CATHERINE of Braganza...... 13 The Duchess of Cleveland . -...... 27 The Countess de Grammont........ 41 The Countess of Ossory........ 51 Lady Denham............. 61 Nell Gwynn . .......... 65 ,The Duchess of Somerset........� � . � 76 The Duchess of Richmond . . . . . � � � � 80 Mrs. Lawson............. 88 The Countess of Chesterfield . ........ 90 The Countess of Rochester.......... 97 ^Elizabeth Bagot............ 103 Mrs. I^ott............... 108 The8Countess of Southesk..........110 Lady Bellasys............. 114 The Countess of Sunderland .......... 118 Mrs. Middleton ,............ 127 The Countess of Northumberland......... 131 The Duchess of Portsmouth......� � � .138 The Duchess of Devonshire......y 156 Jdiss Jennings.............162 y920.7 J239c INTRODUCTION. " In clays of ease, when now the weary sword Was sheathed, and luxury with Charles restor'd, In every taste of foreign courts improved, All by the King's example lived and loved. The soldier breathed the gallantries of France, And every flowery courtier writ romance : Lely on animated canvass stole The sleepy eye, that spoke the melting soul."�Pope. T is the peculiar privilege of the Portrait-painter to immortalize Beauty, to give duration to the most perishable of Heaven's gifts, and bestow upon the Fair " a thousand years of bloom." When the poet has done his utmost to describe the charms which kindled his fancy and inspired his song; when, in the divine spirit of his art, he has arrayed " The thing he doats upon with colouring Richer than roses, brighter than the beams Of the clear sun at morning;" when he has decked out.the idol of his imagination in all the pomp of words, and similes culled from whatever is sweetest and loveliest in creation�the bloom of flowers, the freshness of the dawn, the breathings of the spring, and the sparkling of the stars,�he has but given us the elements out of which we compose a Beauty, each after a fashion and fancy of our own. Painting alone can place before us the personal identity of the poet's divinity,�made such by the superstition of love. "When the historian has told us that Mark Antony lost the world for a woman, and sold an empire for Cleopatra's smile, his eloquence can go no further: the record of her beauty lives upon his page,�her beauty itself only in the faith of our imagination, What would we not give to gaze indeed upon that " brow of Egypt,"-� " The love, the spell, the bane of Antony," such as the pencil of Arellius might have transmitted it to us ! It is true, that when the personage is purely ideal and poetical, we do not willingly part with the imaginary form which has been stamped upon our individual fancy, for any imitative semblance. We have no desire to see a portrait of the lady in " Comus," or the Jewess Kebecca, or Gulnare, or Corinne, or Mignonne. In these and similar instances, the best of painters will scarce equal either the creation of the poet, or its vivid reflections in our own minds : but where the personage is real or historical, the feeling is reversed ; we ask for truth even at the risk of disappointment, and are willing to exchange the vaguely beautiful figure which has dwelt upon our fancy, for the defined reality, however different and, in all probability, inferior. When lingering in a gallery of pictures, with what eagerness of attention do we approach a portrait of Mary Stuart, or Lucrezia d'Este, or Tasso's Leonora ! Lady Sunderland1 and Lady Bridgewater might have hung and mouldered upon the walls of Blenheim, of no more regard than other dowagers of quality, if Waller had not sung the disdainful charms of the first, and Pope celebrated the eyes and the virtues of the latter. Yet,- on the other hand, were it not for Vandyke and Kneller, we should scarce have sympathized in Waller's complaints of " Sacharissa's haughty scorn," or understood the influence of " Bridgewater's eyes." If the portrait sometimes derives from the poet or historian its best value, the beauty of the portrait as often makes us turn with redoubled interest to the page of the poet. After looking at the picture of Hortense Mancini in the Stafford Gallery, we take down St. Evremond with added zest: and who has not known what it is to pause before some beautiful " portrait unknown " of Titian or Vandyke, with a sigh of baffled interest ? calling upon our imagination to supply the lack of tradition, and asking such questions as Lord Byron asks of Cecilia Metella, with as little possibility of being satisfied,� " Was she chaste and fair ?� What race of chiefs and heroes did she bear ? What daughter of her beauties was the heir ? How lived, how loved, how died she ?" Or, who ever gazed upon �the portrait at Windsor of Venetia Digby, without a devouring but vain curiosity to pierce the mystery of her story and her fate ? The silence of the grave rests upon both. A few scattered and contradictory 1 The elder Lady Sunderland, Lady Dorothea Sidney. b 6 INTRODUCTION. notices, and all that painting could express of the matchless beauties of her face and form, remain to us : dust and an endless darkness have swallowed up the rest!l " Lely alone," says Walpole, " can excuse the gallantries of Charles : he painted an apology for that Asiatic court:" �bear witness these lovely forms, which his pencil has rescued from death and fate, and preserved to us even in the loveliest looks they wore on earth:� " Redundant are those locks, those lips as fair, As when their breath enriched Thessalian air." But, says Morality, and frowns, How is the world or posterity benefited by celebrating the charms and the errors of these fair pieces of sin and mischief, who ought rather to do penance with their faces to the wall, than thus boldly attempt to dazzle and blind our severer judgment by the blaze of their attractions! Or if they must needs be preserved as valuable works of art, why should we not gaze upon them merely as such ? While thus they smile upon us from the almost breathing canvas, serene in their silent beauty, why should we be forced to remember that faces so fair were ever stained by passion, or clouded by grief, or wrinkled by time ? If the severe historian must needs stain his page with that disgraceful era of profligacy and blood, as a record and a warning to future ages, let the poet forget it,�let the lover forget it; above all, let women forget the period which saw them degraded from objects of adoration to servants of pleasure, and gave the first blow to that chivalrous feeling with which their sex had hitherto been regarded, by levelling the distinction between the unblemished matron and her who was the " ready spoil of opportunity." Let them be the first to fling a veil over what woman should shrink to look upon, and exclaim, like Claire when she threw the pall over the perishing features of Julie,�" Maudite soit Findigne main qui jamais soulevera ce voile !" This would be well, if it were possible; but it is not. Of late a variety of causes have combined to fix the public attention upon the age of Charles the Second; and to render interesting every circumstance connected with his court and reign. Common gallantry requires that we should no longer suffer the Beauties of that day to be libelled by the caricature resemblances which have hitherto, by way of illustrating, deformed the editions of De Grammont; it is due to the good taste of Charles, to give him the full benefit of the excuse which Lely's pencil afforded him ; and, lastly, common justice, not only to the dead, but the living, requires that the innocent should not be confounded with the guilty. Most of those who visit the Gallery of Beauties at Windsor, leave it with the impression that they have been introduced into a set of kept-mistresses. Truly, it seems hard that such women as Lady Northumberland, Miss Hamilton, Lady Ossory, whose fair reputations no slanderous wit dared to profane while living, should be condemned to posthumous dishonour, because their pictures hang in the same room with those of Middleton and Denham. It is difficult to touch upon the female influence of Charles's reign, without being either betrayed into an unbeseeming levity, or assuming a tone of unseasonable severity: yet thus much may be said; the Memoirs, which have been collected to illustrate these beautiful Portraits, have been written without any design of raking up forgotten scandal, or varnishing over vice ; and equally without any presumptuous idea of benefiting the world and posterity; but certainly not without a deep feeling of the lesson they are fitted to convey. Virtue is scarcely virtue, till it has stood the test: a woman who could pass through the ordeal of such a court as that of Charles the Second unstained in person and in reputation, may be supposed to have possessed a more than common share of innate virtue and feminine dignity ; and she who stooped to folly, at least left no temptation to others to follow her example. Wrhen, from the picture of Castlemaine, in her triumphant beauty, we turn to her last years and her death, there lies in that transition a deeper moral than in twenty sermons: let woman lay it to her heart. # # # * * * # But a lighter and gayer subject demands the pen. The obvious connexion between beauty and dress, and the influence of the reigning fashions upon the style of the portrait-painter, render it necessary to say a few words of the costume of Charles the Second's time, as illustrative of the following Portraits and Memoirs. At the period of the Eestoration, and. for some years afterwards, the style of dress retained something of the picturesque elegance of Charles the First's time. French fashions prevailed indeed, more or less, during the whole of the succeeding reign: French tailors, milliners, hairdressers, and tire-women were then, as now, indispensable; but it was not till a later period, after a secret and disgraceful treaty had made Charles a pensioned creature of France, that the English court became in dress and manners, a gross and caricatured copy of the court of Louis the Fourteenth. Before the introduction of perukes, men as well as women wore their hair long and curling down their shoulders; the women, in particular, had their tresses artfully arranged in elaborate ringlets, partly loose, or confined to the back of the head by jewels or knots of riband, as in the portraits of Lady Northumberland and Lady Rochester. The general effect was graceful and feminine ; till, like other fashions, it was carried to an excess, and artificial curls were worn to supply the want or scarcity of natural hair. The men wore coats of cloth, velvet, or serge; and, in full dress, of gold and silver tissue, richly slashed and covered with embroidery: large bows of riband of various colours, wherever they could be placed �on the shoulders, at the breast, at the knees, at the sword-hilt, distinguished the " ruffling gallants" of the court.2 The dress of the ladies was, in material, rich silk or satin, sometimes brocaded with gold and silver ;3 and consisted of a long boddice fitted to the shape, and cut low in the bosom, a tucker or laced chemise appearing above. This boddice was open down the front, and fastened with brooches of jewels, or knots of riband, or creves, as in the portraits of the Duchess of Eichmond and Lady Sunderland. The skirt was worn full with many plaits, and sufficiently short to shew the ankles: the sleeves were generally full, long, and very wide, gathered and looped up high in front with jewels, and shewing 1 Venetia Digby was the wife of Sir Kenelm Digby: the emblematical accompaniments of her picture cannot now be explained or understood. She was of noble�of the noblest blood: her father was a Stanley; her mother, Lady Lucy Percy: yet Aubrey calls her a courtesan. She married Sir Kenelm Digby while yet very young; and at the age of thirty was found dead, her head resting on her hand, in the attitude of one asleep. Some said she was poisoned by her husband through jealousy; others that her death was caused by certain, medicaments and preparations he had administered to enhance the power of her charms, of which he was enamoured even to madness. Sir Kenelm Digby was not only the handsomest man and most accomplished cavalier of his time, but a statesman, a courtier, a philosopher, and a dabbler injudicial astrology and alchymy. 2 Evelyn humourously alludes to this extravagant fashion. " He met," he says, "a fine thing in Westminster Hall, that had as much riband about him as would have plundered six shops, and set up twenty pedlars : a frigate, newly rigged, kept not half such a clatter in a storm as this puppet's streamers did, when the wind was in his shrouds."�Tijrannus, or the Mode�Evelyn's Memoirs, vol. ii. 3 Pepys mentions, that his wife and Lady Castlemaine purchased a dress off the same piece of silk, for which they paid 15s. a-yard: this is, as if a lady of these days were to pay three guineas a-yard for a gown. INTRODUCTION. 7 beneath a white sleeve of fine linen or cambric, .embroidered or trimmed with lace. This must have been rather an inconvenient fashion; but very graceful in appearance, and calculated to set off a beautiful arm to the greatest possible advantage. The custom of patching the face prevailed about this time, and continued till the days of the " Spectator;" when, as we are told, the Tory ladies patched on one side of the face, and those of the Whig persuasion on the other ; till Addison's exquisite raillery rendered both patching and party-spirit unfashionable. Shoe-buckles were now first introduced, instead qf the large roses of riband formerly worn; and green stockings were affected by some of the court ladies, for reasons which politeness forbids us to mention�except in a note.1 Every one who has read De Grammont, will recollect the green stockings of the beautiful Lady Chesterfield, which made the Duke of York swear so gallantly, that there was " point de salut sans des bas verts." In 1666, the King, in order to repress the increasing luxury of dress, and, as Mr. Pepys expresses it, " to teach the nobility thrift," declared in council his design of adopting a certain habit, which he was resolved never to alter. It consisted of a long close vest of black cloth or velvet, pinked with white satin; a loose coat over it of the Polish fashion ; and, instead of shoes and stockings, buskins or brodequins.2 Some of the young courtiers, aware of the King's versatility, laid wagers with him that he would not continue in this fashion beyond a certain time, which proved to be the, case. " It was," says Evelyn, " a comely and a manly habit; too good to hold, it being impossible for us to leave the Monsieur's vanities long." The use of ladies' riding-habits, or Amazonian habits, as they were termed, was introduced in this reign. It was the custom for the Queen and the Maids of Honour to accompany the King in his hawking parties, mounted upon fine horses, and attended by the courtiers. To ride well, was then an admired female accomplishment; it appears that the peculiar grace with which Miss Stewart sat and managed her horse, was one of her principal attractions in the eyes of the King ; and that Miss Churchill had nearly lost the heart of the Duke of York by her equestrian awkwardness. � Cocked hats, laced with gold, and trimmed with white, black, and red feathers were worn by both sexes, Pepys records his admiration of Miss Stewart in her " cocked hat and red plume," as she returned from riding. A particularly smart and knowing cock of the hat was assumed by the young gallants, called the " Monmouth cock," after the Duke of Monmouth. 'In the latter part of Charles's reign, the close and disgraceful connexion between the French and English courts delivered us up to French interests, French politics, and French fashions. This was the era of those enormous perukes, which in the succeeding reigns of William and Anne attained to such a preposterous size.3 Mustachios on the upper lip disappeared from court, but were not finally abolished till the succeeding reign. At this time, the exposure of the neck and shoulders was carried to such a shameless extreme, that even women of character and reputation scarcely affected a superficial decency of attire. Painting the face, which had declined since Queen Elizabeth's time, was again introduced from France, and became a fashion. Hoods of various colours were worn,^and long trains, which caused, very unreasonably, almost as much scandal as the meretricious display of the person.4 Women, instead of wearing long ringlets clustering down the neck, began to frizzle up their hair like periwigs, as in the portrait of the Duchess of Portsmouth. It is remarkable, that the elevation, decline, and fall of the female coiffure, comprised exactly a century. It began to rise between 1680 and 1690 ; rose gradually for the next fifty years; and reached its extremest height toward the end of George the Second's reign, when it absolutely emulated the Tower of Babel: from that time it declined by slow degrees, and about the period of the French Eevolution, the heads of our women began to assume their natural shape and proportion. Other fashions and tastes of Charles's time may be dismissed in a few words. The King, from spending his youth abroad, and perhaps in earlier years from his mother, had imbibed a decided partiality for the language and literature of France; and after his return to the throne, French became the fashionable language at court. The patriotic Evelyn inveighs against this innovation; and only excuses the King as having te in some sort a right to speak French, he being King of France."5 There are some lines in Andrew Marvel's Works, in allusion to this fashion, so beautiful and so little known, that I cannot deny myself the pleasure of quoting them:� " Cselia, whose English doth more richly flow Than Tagus�purer than dissolved snow, And sweet as are her lips that speak it, she ]STow learns the tongues of France and Italy; But she is Caelia still; no other grace But her own smiles commend that lovely face ! Her native beauty's not Italianated, Nor her chaste mind into the French translated; Her thoughts are English, though her speaking wit With other language doth them fitly fit." 1 " Elle l'a (la jamhe) grosse et courte, poursuivit-il, et pour diminuer ses defauts autant que cela se peut, elle ne porte presque jamais que des bas verts."�Be Grammont. 2 See " Echard's History of England/' vol. ii. p. 836, and " Evelyn's Memoirs." '* Oct. 8th. The Xing hath yesterday in council declared his resolution of setting a fashion for clothes, which he will never alter; it will be a vest: I know not well how, but it will teach the nobility thrift, and will do good." " 17th. The court is all full of vests, only my Lord St. Albans (Jermyn) not pinked, but plain black; and they say the King says that the pinking upon white, makes them look too much like magpies; so hath bespoke one of plain velvet."�Pepys' Diary, vol. i. p. 471. 3 They were first worn by a Duke of Anjou, to conceal a peisonal deformity, and adopted by the court in compliment to him. In the same spirit, when Philip of Macedon was wounded in the forehead, all his courtiers walked about with bandages round their heads. 4 In the Preface to a curious religious Tract, entitled "A just and seasonable reprehension of the enormity of naked breasts and shoulders," published by a Non-conformist Divine, but translated, as the title sets forth, from the French of a grave and learned Papist, these long trains are censured, with much spiritual indignation, as " a monstrous superfluity of cloth or silk, that must be dragged after them, or carried by another, or fardelled behind them." There is an anecdote of a lady of that time, who being forbidden, by court etiquette, to bring her train-bearers into the Queen's presence, had her train made long enough to reach into the ante-chamber. [The inconvenient fashion of long trains belonged properly to an earlier, more stiff and formal, and less civilized period. During the fourteenth, and part of the fifteenth centuries, they were most enormous, both in France, England, and Scotland, if we may judge by the paintings on the manuscripts of that period, and by the allusions by contemporary writers. The puritans, and particularly the reformers in Scotland, had too much zeal to be reasonable; and among the numerous writings of the latter which remain, we find invectives against these long trains so virulent and so gross, as is not easily to be conceived.�Ed.] 5 Preface to the Essay in Evelyn's Works, entitled " Tyrannus, or the Mode." 8, INTRODUCTION. Here compliment and reproof are exquisitely blended: but Dryden, in the comedy of" Marriage a-la-Mode," has rallied the same fashion with more severity, and infinite comic humour. Melantha, the fine lady of the piece, most industriously interlards her discourse with French phraseology. " No one can be so curious of a new fashion, as she is of a new French word: she is the very mint of the nation; and, as fast as any bullion comes out of France, coins it immediately into our language."1 Her waiting-maid, who is the " heir of her cast words as well as of her old clothes," and supplies her toilet every morning with a list of new French words for her daily conversation, betrays her vocabulary to her lover, who is thus enabled to attack her with her own weapons, and wins her by outdoing her in affectation, and overpowering her with her own nonsense.2 The character of Melantha in this play, or rather the admirable performance of the part by the celebrated actress, Mrs. Montfort, is considered by Cibber as a most lively and just representation of a fantastic fine lady of Charles's time. His sketch is so very amusing, and so a propos to our subject, that it is given in his own words. " Melantha," he says, " is as finished an impertinent as ever fluttered in a drawing room; and seems to contain the most complete system of female foppery that could possibly be crowded into the tortured form of a fine lady. Her language, dress, motion, manners, soul, and body are in a continual hurry to be something more tEan is necessary or commendable. The first ridiculous airs that break from her, are upon a gallant never seen before, who delivers her a letter from her father, recommending him to her good graces as an honourable lover. Here now, one would think, she might naturally show a little of the sex's decent reserve, though never so slightly covered. ISTo, sir, not a tittle of it: modesty is a poor-souled country gentlewoman; she is too much a court lady to be under so vulgar a confusion. She reads the letter, therefore, with a careless dropping lip and erected brow, humming it hastily over, as if she were impatient to outgo her father's commands by making a complete conquest of him at once; and that the letter might not embarrass the attack,�crack! she crumbles it at once into her palm, and pours down on him her whole artillery of airs, eyes, and motion: down to the ground goes her dainty diving body, as if she were sinking under the weight of her own attractions; then she launches into a flood of fine language and compliment, still playing her chest forward in fifty falls and risings, like a swan upon waving water; and, to complete her impertinence, she is so rapidly fond of her own wit, that she will not give her lover leave to praise it. Silent, assenting bows, and vain endeavours to speak, are all the share of the conversation he is admitted to; which, at last, he is removed from, by her engagement to half a score of visits, which she swims from him to make, with a promise to return in a twinkling." 3 This spirited sketch is possibly dashed with some little caricature and exaggeration, but it is evidently from the life: and we are tempted here to pause, and consider the revolutions in taste and manner, and contrast the tawdry affectation, the flaunting airs, the fluttering movements, the laborious volubility,�in a word, the intolerable vulgarity of a fine lady of Charles's court, with the calm, quiet elegance, the refined and unobtrusive simplicity, which distinguish the really well-bred woman of our time. Notwithstanding what De Grammont says of the politeness of the English court, the general profligacy of morals was accompanied by a grossness of manners and language, in both sexes, scarcely to be credited in these days. Women of condition scrupled not to swear " good mouth-filling oaths," such as Hotspur recommended to his wife. The licence introduced and endured upon the stage, was not certainly borrowed from the French theatre; but, encouraged by the depraved taste of the King, and supported by the prostituted talents of Dryden, and the wit of Etheridge, Davenant, Killigrew, Wycherly, it spread the contagion far and wide, where the influence and example of the court could not otherwise have extended. Women of reputation and virtue, married and unmarried, frequented the theatre, which was then a favourite and fashionable place of amusement; from which, in summer, they adjourned to the Park or Spring Gardens,�the performances being over about the time they now begin. How any woman, not wholly abandoned, could sit out one of the fashionable comedies of those days, appears incomprehensible: most of them, indeed, paid so much external homage to modesty, as to appear in masks; which from the facilities they afforded to intrigue, were then a useful appendage to the female costume. To this Pope alludes :� " The fair sat panting at a courtier's play, And not a mask went unimproved away; The modest fan was lifted up no more, And virgins smiled at what they blushed before." The fashionable poetry and light literature of the day, consisted chiefly of love-songs, epigrams, epistles, and satires; all tinged, more or less, with the same perverted and licentious spirit. Well might Dryden, in self-humiliation, exclaim,� " 0 gracious God ! how oft have we Profaned thy sacred gift of poesy, Made prostitute and profligate the muse !" A vicious taste for personal scandal was one of the most marked characteristics of that period. The age deserved the lash of satire; but they who coarsely satirized it, often committed " most mischievous foul sin in chiding sin." There is, however, a wide difference between the spirit and talent of the various satirists then in vogue: some, like Marvel, Denham, and Eochester, mangled their prey like " carcases for hounds;" others, like Dryden and Butler, " carved it as a dish fit for the gods." In those days newspapers were not, as now, the vehicles for fashionable chit-chat and satire. Coffee-houses,4 which had lately been established, were the resort of the gallants, the poets and wits of the times; and the usual method of circulating a court lampoon, or any piece of malicious or political wit, was by transcripts handed about in the coffee-houses, till they fell at last into the hands of some obscure printer, who loved his profit better than his ears; and by dashes and stars, (another invention of that time,) contrived at once to fix the scandal and elude the law. The last successful play of Dryden, the last court lampoon of Dorset, or the last new love-song of Sedley, then 1 "Marriage a-la-Mode," Act i. Scene 1. In a subsequent scene Melantha thus expresses her admiration of a French, and her contempt for an English beau:�" How charming is the French air! and what an etourdi bete is one of our untravelied Islanders! When he would make his court to me, let me die but he is just iEsop's Ass, that would imitate the courtly French in their addresses; but, instead of those, comes pawing upon me, and doing all things so mal-a-droitly." Act ii. Scene 1. 2 In the list of Melantha's modish and new-fangled French words, the reader is surprised to find several which are now so completely naturalized, that the date of their introduction is only thus ascertained; as figure, conversation, grimace, embarrassed, ridicule, good graces, Sfc. 3 Cibber's "Apology," 99. 4 1 believe it is scarce necessary to notice, that tea, coffee, and chocolate were all introduced into England in the reign of Charles the Second; the first'from Holland, the second from France, and the last from Portugal, by the Queen and her Portuguese attendants. INTRODUCTION. 9 comprised the light reading of a fine lady. As yet novels were not: the serious and prolix romances in folio of Calprenede, Scuderi, and Durfey,;-�Clelie, and the Grand Cyrus, were the only works of fiction then fashionable; and in their pictures of pastoral purity, and exalted love, and high-wrought tone of impossible heroism and double-refined sentiment, formed so strong a contrast to the prevailing manners and tastes, that one wonders how the gay gallants and court dames of that period could ever have had patience to pore over them: but thus it was. Charles loved and patronised music ;x and the germ of the Italian Opera may be traced to his reign.2 Killigrew, who had resided some time at Venice, brought over a company of Italian singers, who sang in dialogue and recitative, with accompaniments, and excited great admiration at court. A young Italian, named Francesco Corbetta,3 whose performance on the guitar was much admired and patronised by the King, first made that elegant instrument fashionable in England; and it became such a mania, that, either for show or use, it was as indispensable upon a lady's toilet as her rouge and patch-box. A beau of that time was little thought of, who could not write a song on his mistress, and sing it himself to his guitar. Lord Arran, a younger son of the great Duke of Ormond, was the most admired amateur performer at court; and his beautiful sister, Lady Chesterfield, gloried in possessing the finest guitar in England: but it 1 But�he neglected Purcell, and rewarded Grabut! 2 [The origin of the Opera in England is a subject that has been as yet very imperfectly known. We may, perhaps, consider as its first form the Masques which were so common during the reigns of Elizabeth and the two first Stuarts. However, we are certain that there was an Opera in England under the Commonwealth. Old Anthony Wood, mentioning a piece of Sir William Davenant's which was performed at Kutland House, May 23, 1656, calls it an Italian Opera; but with as little reason, apparently, as Dr. Burney had for supposing that the name Opera was only applied to these performances by Wood. The piece to which he alludes was probably the one printed the following,year (1657)1 under the title of "The First Dayes Entertainment at Rutland-House by Declamations and Music; after the manner of the Antients;" in the Prologue to which it is said, in apology for the smallness of the stage, (" our cupboard scene,")� " Think this your passage, and the narrow way To our Elisian field, the Opera." And again, in one of the " Declamations,"�" Poetry is the subtle engine by which the wonderful body of the Opera must move." The name is here introduced as though it were by no means new. It must be confessed that this " Entertainment" bears no great resemblance to the Operas of the present day; but another piece, by the same author, comes somewhat nearer to our notion of an Opera: it was printed in 1658, with the title " The Cruelty of the Spaniards in Peru. Exprest by instrumentall and vocali Musick, and by Art of Perspective in Scenes, &c. Represented daily at the Cockpit in Drury Lane, at three after noone punctually." Wood says, that the Opera went on with tolerable success for some years at Drury Lane. Sir William Davenant afterwards obtained a patent for a theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, (we believe in Great Queen Street,) where, soon after the Restoration, he was busy performing his Operas, and particularly this one of the " Cruelty of the Spaniards in Peru." In a rare volume of Songs, printed in 1661, with the title " Choyce Poems, by Wits of both Universities/' we find " a Ballad against the Opera," whose satire is directed against this identical piece:� "Now heaven preserve our realm, �% And him that sits at th' helm, I will tell you of a new story, Of Sir William and his apes, With full many merry japes, Much after the rate of John Dorie. This sight is to be seen Near the street that's called Queen, And the people have call'd it the Opera, But the devil take my wife! If all the dayes of my life I did ever see such a fopperie." And so our satirist goes on to tell us, how one of the performers comes forward with a speech to inform his hearers of the subject of the piece, of which he declares "?Tis two hours of I know not what." " Neither must I here forget The musick there, how it was set, Dise two ayers and half and a Jove; All the rest was such a gig, Like the squeaking of a pig, Or cats when they'r making their love. The next thing wns the scene, And that, as it was layne, But no man knows where, in Peru, With a story for the nones, Of raw head and bloody-bones, But the devil a word that was true." -' ' / J The subject of Davenant's Opera was, indeed, one by no means proper for stage representation. Among other stage directions in the printed edition, we have " Two Spaniards are discovered,�the one turning a spit, whilst the other is basting an Indian prince, which is rosted at an artificial fire," ! ! On which the writer of the song says,� " Oh! greater cruelty yet! Like a pig upon a spit! Here lies one, there another boyPd to a jellie." The Opera ended by a dance of the Indians, who had been delivered from Spanish cruelty by the bravery of the English,� " But which was strange again, The Indians that they had slain Came dancing all in a troop. But, oh ! give me the last! For as often as he past, He still tumbled like a dog in a hoop." English Operas were common enough during the reign of Charles II. Pepys (Jan. 12, 1667,) mentions " Signor Baptista, (Draghi,) who had proposed a play in Italian for the Opera, which Sir T. Killigrew do intend to have up."�-Ed.] 3 There is a print of him by Grascar with this inscription :� " Francesco Corbetta Famosissimo maestro di Chitarra Qual Orfeo nel suonar ognun il narra," 10 INTROD UCTION. sounded discord in the ears of her jealous lord, according to the story in De Grrammont. The following passage in Pepys' " Diary" is characteristic of the time: he went to pay a visit of business to Lord Sandwich, on board the " Royal James ;" " and there spent an hour, my lord playing on the gittarr, which he now commends above all musique in the world.'* Lord Sandwich was a distinguished and veteran commander, admiral of the fleet, and at this time a grandfather, or old enough to be one. Painting was neglected hi this reign, except as far as it flattered and was subservient to personal vanity. Accordingly we do not find the name of a single good painter of history ; while portrait-painters abounded. Those who were chiefly employed by the court, during the reign of Charles the Second, were Sir Peter Lely, Huysman, Wissing, and Sir Godfrey Kneller. Sir Peter Lely was a native of Soest, in Westphalia, where his father, a captain of horse, was then in garrison. After studying some time under an obscure painter of the name of Grebber, he came to England in 1641. Though he painted Charles the First, a short time before his downfall,1 and Cromwell more than once, it does not appear that Lely enjoyed much celebrity till after the Restoration. The gay cavaliers and beautiful women of Charles the Second's court were better suited to his taste, and more appropriate subjects for his delicate and graceful pencil than the stiff figures and stern puritanical visages of the Commonwealth. The first Duchess of York, Anne Hyde, though a fine woman, was not remarkable for her personal attractions: she was, however, content to gratify the taste of the King and her husband in this particular; and, in forming her court, after the acknowledgment of her marriage, took pains to surround herself with all that was most brilliant and fascinating in youth and beauty. Miss Jennings,2 Miss Temple,3 and Miss Hamilton, were among the most conspicuous ornaments of her court. She began the collection now known as the " Beauties of Windsor," by commanding Sir Peter Lely to paint for her the handsomest women of the time, commencing with her own lovely Maids of Honour. The success with which he executed this charming task, raised him at once to reputation and to fortune. Every woman was emulous to have her charms immortalized by his beauty-breathing pencil; and lovers and poets were, for the first time, gratified by beholding their mistresses on Lely's canvas, scarce less enchanting than they existed in their own imaginations. Lely has been severely criticised as an abandoned mannerist; and, it must be confessed, that the languid air, the sleepy elongated eyelids, and loose fluttering draperies of his women, have given a general character to his pictures, which �may be detected almost at the first glance. " Lely's nymphs," says Walpole, " are far too wanton and magnificent to be taken for any thing but Maids of Honour." In another place he says, " Sir Peter Lely's women trail fringes and embroidery through meadows and purling streams." This is surely hypercriticism ; and, in fact, through the whole of his observations, Walpole seems determined to undervalue Lely in comparison with Kneller. The clinquant of which he accuses him, and justly, was equally the characteristic of the latter painter ; and, in Lely, is redeemed by a brilliance of colouring, and a thousand graces in style and composition, which Kneller never equalled, except in one or two of his very best productions. Neither, it is true, can be compared to the great classic-painters; but some of Lely's heads are exquisite in tone of colour and expression : his airy, graceful, and floating draperies certainly bear no traces of having been trailed through purling streams ; and what true judge or real lover of painting, could wish away those charming snatches of woodland landscape, those magical glimpses of sky and masses of foliage, with which he has so beautifully�so poetically relieved his female figures; or choose to substitute for these rich effects of scenery, the straight lines of architecture, or the folds of a curtain ? Why may not a lovely woman be represented, without any intolerable violation of taste or probability, in a garden or a bower, as well as in a saloon at Whitehall ? or seated beneath a tree, or beside a fountain, as well as before a piece of red drapery ? In other respects, there can be no doubt that the manner of the painter was in a great measure caught from the prevailing manners, fashions, and character of the times in which he lived. He painted what he saw, and if he made his nymphs " wanton and magnificent," we have very good authority for believing in the accuracy of his likenesses. The loose undress in which many of his female portraits are arrayed, or rather disarrayed, came into fashion as modesty went out, and virtue was voted " une impertinence." The soft sleepy eye,� " Seeming to shun the rudeness of men's sight, And shedding a delicious lunar light," appears to have been natural to one or two distinguished beauties of the time, who led the fashion, and carried to an extreme by others, who wished to be in the mode. We are told that the lovely Mrs. Hyde4 had, by long practice, subdued her glances to such a languishing tenderness that her eyes never opened more than those of a Chinese. We may imagine the fair and indolent Middleton, the languishing Miss Boynton, or the insipid Miss Blague, " aux blondes paupieres," with these drooping lids and half-shut glances; but it must have cost the imperious Castlemaine, the brilliant Jennings, and the sprightly Hamilton, no small effort to veil their sparkling orbs in compliance with the fashion, and affect an insidious leer or a drowsy languor. With them it must have been an exquisite refinement of coquetterie, a kind of demi jour, giving to the raised lid and full soul-beaming eye an effect like that of unexpected light�dazzling, surprising, overpowering. Sir Peter Lely painted some history pieces, which have the same merits and defects as his portraits: the defects, however, predominate. He also drew finely in crayons: some exquisite pieces of his, in this style, are still extant. He was knighted by Charles the Second; and, like his predecessor Vandyke, married a beautiful English woman of high family: like him, too, he was remarkable for his graceful and courtier-like manners, for the splendour of his house and equipage, and for keeping a sumptuous table. He spent thirty-nine years in England, and during twenty he was confessedly at the head of his profession. He died suddenly in 1680, while painting that beautiful Duchess of Somerset, whose portrait is in this collection. Wissing was a Dutch painter, who came over to England after having obtained some celebrity at the French court : he was much patronised during the short time he was here, and painted most of the royal family. The portraits of Lady Ossory and Mrs. Nbtt, in this collection, are by Wissing: he was especially in fashion among the ladies, for he was sure to catch the best and most advantageous expression of every face. If it happened that one of his lovely models grew pale, and looked fatigued during a long sitting, he would take her by the hand and dance her about the room, to 1 This remarkable picture is now at Sion-House. 2 Afterwards Duchess of Tyrconnel. 3 Afterwards lady Lyttelton. 4 Theodosia Capel, afterwards Lady Clarendon. INTRODUCTION. 11 restore bloom to her complexion and spirit to her countenance: it was a specific which never failed. Wissing died young, at Lord Exeter's seat at Burleigh. He has been celebrated by Prior. James Huysman, or Houseman, was a native of Antwerp, who came over to England when Lely was in the zenith of his reputation, and had nearly rivalled him: and not without reason. Huysman had studied in the school of Bubens, and formed his taste and style after the model of Yandyke. Some of his pictures which I have seen, have something of the power and freedom of the latter painter, blended with the sweetness and grace of Lely. His beautiful portrait of the Duchess of Bichmond, (Miss Stewart,) as a young cavalier, is at Kensington. Whether the fine picture, which hangs over the door in the Beauty Room at Windsor, be the work of Huysman or Vandyke,�whether it represent a Lady Bellasys, or a Lady Byron, are points which will be discussed and settled in their proper place. Huysman constituted himself the Queen's painter, and made her sit for all his Madonnas and Yenuses. He might have chosen a better model, and more munificent patroness: Catherine had no predilection for the fine arts. Huysman died in 1696: his death left Kneller without a rival. Sir Godfrey Kneller was by birth a Saxon. His first success in England is connected with a very characteristic anecdote. He came to this country in 1674, without any intention of residing here, having resolved to settle at Yenice, where he had already received great encouragement. Soon after his arrival, he painted the Duke of Monmouth for Secretary Yernon; and the duke was so charmed by the resemblance, that he engaged the King, his father, to sit to the new painter. At this time Charles had promised the Duke of York his portrait by Lely; and disliking the trouble of sitting, he proposed that both the artists should paint him at the same time. Sir Peter was to choose the light and point of view he thought most advantageous; the stranger was to take the likeness as he could: he performed his task with so much expedition, that he had nearly finished his head of the King, when Lely had only just begun his. Charles was pleased: Lely generously owned the abilities of his competitor, and the justice of the resemblance; and this first success induced Kneller to settle finally in England. After the death of Sir Peter Lely, in 1680, he became the court and fashionable painter, and was for nearly fifty years without a competitor; during which time, he painted all the distinguished characters of the age, both English and foreign. William the Third knighted him, George the First made him a baronet, and Leopold created him a knight of the Boman Empire. Ten sovereigns sat to him; but we owe him a far deeper debt of gratitude for the likenesses of Dryden, Pope, Newton, Locke, Addison, Congreve, and Wortley Montague, which his pencil has transmitted to us. The well-known " Beauties" at Hampton Court, were painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller for William the Third. As paintings, they are decidedly inferior to the Windsor Beauties; and, writh due deference to the virtues of the ladies they represent, are, as subjects, not to be compared in interest and beauty, to their naughty mammas and grandmammas of Charles the Second's time. There is a chalkiness in the flesh, and a general rawness in the tints, which will not bear a comparison with the delicacy of Lely's carnations, and the splendour of colouring in his landscapes and draperies; and they have all a look of studied stiffness and propriety, which, as it is obviously affected, is almost as bad as the voluptuous negligence of Lely's females.1 Kneller's powers as a wit almost equalled his talents as a painter, and his vanity appears to have exceeded both. Pope, who was his personal friend, and who has given him in his verses a surer immortality than the pencil ever conferred, has left us a characteristic anecdote of him: it is thus related in Spence:�" I (it is Pope who speaks) was sitting one day by Sir Godfrey Kneller, whilst he was drawing a picture: he stopped and said, < I can't do so well as I should do, unless you flatter me a little ; pray flatter me, Mr. Pope; you know I love to be flattered !' I was for once willing to try how far his vanity would carry him ; and, after considering a picture he had just finished for a good while very attentively, I said to him in French, (for we had been talking for some time before in that language,) ' On lit dans les Ecritures Saintes, que le bon Dieu faisait 1'homme apres son image; mais, je crois, s'il voudrait faire un autre a present, qu'il le ferait apres l'image que voila.' Sir Godfrey turned round, and said very gravely,' Yous avez raison, Monsieur Pope ; par Dieu, je le crois aussi.' " The gross folly and profaneness of this answer, seem inconsistent with the wit Sir Godfrey really possessed: possibly he was playing off the poet's trick upon himself, and the reply was only ironical; for he seems, from the first part of the story, to have been quite aware of his own foible. His answer to his tailor was in better taste; the man had proposed his son to him as an apprentice, and begged he would make him a painter: " Dost thou think, man," exclaimed Sir Godfrey in a rage, " that I can make thy son a painter ? No; only God Almighty makes painters !"2 . Sir Godfrey Kneller died in 1723, and left ,�300 to erect a monument to himself in Westminster Abbey, which was executed by Bysbrach. Pope said the epitaph he composed for this monument was the worst thing he ever wrote,3 and he was not far mistaken. The thought in the concluding lines, " Living, great Nature feared he might outvie Her works, and dying, fears herself may die," is borrowed from Cardinal Bembo's epitaph on Baphael in the Pantheon at Borne; but the hyperbole does not sound so ill in Latin, as in plain homely English; and is, besides, most clumsily translated. It may be added, that a compliment which, paid to the divinest of painters, was only a poetical license, has become burlesque and absurd when applied to one so immeasurably his inferior. One would almost think, that the vanity which Pope had flattered and ridiculed when living, he meant to stigmatize on the tomb, by praise at once so affected and poor in its expression, so exaggerated and misapplied in its meaning. * It will not be out of place here to continue this slight sketch of portrait-painting and portrait-painters, as connected with female beauty and the English Court, down to our own time. f1 Seven of the heads in the gallery of Admirals, were done by Kneller, and the portraits of the Kit-cat Club were his. Kneller had an elder brother, who was also distinguished as a painter, and is said to have studied under Bol and Rembrandt. He came to England, and died in 1702. Ed.] 8 Walpole. 3 "I paid Sir Godfrey Kneller a visit but two days before he died, and I think I never saw such a scene of vanity in all my life : he was lying in his bed, and contemplating the plan he had made for his own monument. He said many gross things in relation to himself, and the memory he should leave behind him; he said he should not like to lie among the rascals in Westminster : a memorial there would be sufficient, and desired me to write an epitaph for it. I did so afterwards; and I think it is the worst thing I ever wrote."�Pope, in Spence. 12 INTRODUCTION. Jervas succeeded Sir Godfrey Kneller as court-painter. In spite of the poetical flattery of Pope,1 who embalmed his name in the " lucid amber of his lines," and his immense reputation when living, Jervas is now almost forgotten as a painter. His portraits being without intrinsic merit as paintings, without even the value which just likeness could give them, have long ago been banished into garrets and housekeepers' rooms, or turned with their faces to the wall, or exiled into brokers' shops, to be sold for the value of their frames. Jervas had formed his taste on two of the worst models a painter could select,�Carlo Maratti and Sir Godfrey Kneller: he contrived to exaggerate the faults of both, without possessing any of their merits; and while his success equalled that of the former, his vanity even exceeded the conceit of the latter.2 At this time also lived Dahl, a Swede by birth, who came over to England about the time of the Revolution. He was a portrait-painter of considerable merit, and patronised by William the Third, for whom he painted the Gallery of Admirals at Hampton Court. He appears, however, to have painted few female portraits; the ladies being engrossed by Kneller and Jervas. The reigns of George the First and Second present not one name of eminence in portrait-painting: the arts had sunk to the lowest possible ebb; and the absurd and ungraceful fashions, which prevailed in dress and manners at this time, are perpetuated in the stiff, homely, insipid portraits of Richardson and Hudson. " Kneller," as Walpole pleasantly observes, " had exaggerated the curls of full-bottomed wigs, and the tiaras of ribands, lace, and hair, till he had struck out a graceful kind of unnatural grandeur." Not so his immediate successors: they, destitute of taste or imagination, have either left us hideous and literal transcripts of the awkward, tight-laced, be-hooped, and be-wigged generation of belles and beaux before them; or, quitting at once all nature, grace, probability, and even possibility, have given us Arcadian shepherdesses, and Heathen goddesses, and soi-disant Greeks and Romans, where wigs and flounces, and frippery mingle with crooks, sheep, thunderbolts, and Eoman draperies. But it is out of the last abasement of hopeless mediocrity, that original genius most frequently rises and soars; where there is nothing to imitate, nothing to rest upon, a re-action takes place : and while Hudson was painting insipid faces, in powdered side-curls and white satin waistcoats, the genius of Gainsborough and Sir Joshua Reynolds was preparing a new era in the history of art. Gainsborough is chiefly celebrated as a landscape-painter; yet what truth of character, what vigour of touch, what free, unmannered simplicity of style in some of his portraits !�his Blue Boy at Grosvenor-House, for instance, equal to any thing of Sir Joshua's. But the bland and graceful pencil of the latter was calculated to please more generally, and he was soon without a competitor. If court-patronage make the court-painter, Sir Joshua has little claim to the title: it was impossible to owe less than he did to royal favour : but if the presence of high-born loveliness in attendance upon Majesty constitute a court, he whose pencil has immortalized two generations of English beauties, may well be styled the court-painter of England. Among his pupils and successors, Hoppner imitated him, and caught something of his style and feeling: Sir Thomas Lawrence has not imitated him, and has inherited his genius and his fame. It is therefore easier to contrast, than to compare them. Thus, the excellencies of Sir Joshua Reynolds are more allied to the Venetian school, those of Sir Thomas Lawrence to the Flemish school. Sir Joshua reminds us more of Giorgione and Titian, Sir Thomas of Vandyke and Lely. Both are graceful; but the grace of Sir Joshua Reynolds is more poetical, that of Sir Thomas Lawrence more spirituel; there is more of fancy and feeling in Sir Joshua, more of high-bred elegance in Sir Thomas Lawrence. The first is the sweeter colourist, the latter the more vigorous draughtsman. In the portraits of Sir Joshua there is ever a predominance of sentiment; in those of Sir Thomas a predominance of spirit. The pencil of the latter would instinctively illuminate with animation the most pensive face; and the genius of the former would throw a shade of tenderness into the countenance of a virago. Between both, what an enchanting gallery might be formed of the Beauties of George the Third's reign,�the Beauties who have been presented at St. James's during the last half century ! Or, to go no further back than those painted by Lawrence, since he has been confessedly the court-painter of England�if the aerial loveliness of Lady Leicester�the splendid beauty of Mrs. Littleton�the poetical sweetness of Lady Walscourt, with " mind and music breathing from her face,"�the patrician grace of Lady Lansdowne�the pensive elegance of Mrs. Wolfe;�the more brilliant and intellectual graces of Lady Jersey,�Mrs. Hope, with eyes that anticipate a smile, and lips round* which the last bon-mot seems to linger still,�the Duchess of Devonshire, the Lady Elizabeth Forster, Miss Thayer, Lady Blessington, Lady Charlotte Campbell, Mrs. Arbuthnot, &c.�if these, and a hundred other fair " stars," who each in their turn have blazed away a season on the walls of the Academy, " the cynosure of neighbouring eyes," and then set for ever to the public�if these could be taken from their scattered stations over pianos and over chimney-pieces, and assembled together for one spring in the British Gallery, an exhibition more interesting, more attractive, more dazzlingly beautiful can scarcely be imagined: but if the pride of some, and the modesty of others, would militate against such an arrangement, we know nothing that could prevent the Directors of the British Institution from gratifying the public with a regular and chronological series of British historical portraits ; beginning with the age of Henry VIII. and Elizabeth, as illustrated by Hans Holbein, Antonio More, Oliver, And dance among your fellow-fiends below ! There, as upon the Stygian lake you float, You may o'erset and sink the laden boat; While we the funeral rites devoutly pay, And dance for joy that you are danced away !" 1 In the divorce-bill of Lord Eoos, afterwards Earl of Eutland, which was passed through the House to serve as a precedent. [It is curious that the Duke of Buckingham opposed somewhat violently the progress of this bill, and only desisted after concessions had been made to him by Lord Eoos. The lady was first cousin to the Duchess of Cleveland.�Ed.] 2 James II.� Vide " Stuart Papers." 3 " This being St. Catherine's day, the Queene was at masse by seven o'clock this morning; and Mr. Ashburnham (groom of the bedchamber) do say, that he never saw any one have so much zeale in his life as she hath; and (the question being asked by my Lady Carteret) much beyond the bigotry that ever the old Queene-mother had."�Pepys. 4 See Dryden's Works (Sir Walter Scott's Ed.) vol. ix. p. 294. 4 - 24 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II In the commencement of this affair the Commons, maddened with rage and terror, sent up a petition to the King to have the Queen removed from Whitehall, and her household arrested, or dispatched out of the country; and Charles had now an opportunity of ridding himself legally of a wife he had never loved. Such a measure, though it would have consigned him to the abhorrence of posterity, would at the moment have been in the highest degree popular; but, shocked at the audacity of such a monstrous fabrication, and touched with pity for his defenceless and inoffensive Queen, he crushed the accusation at, once, observing to those about him, u They think I have a mind for a new wife; but, for all that, I will not stand by and see an innocent woman abused." In February 1685, the King was seized with apoplexy, and thes Queen hearing of his danger, but that he was still sensible, sent an earnest request to be admitted into his presence, at the same time entreating his forgiveness for any offences she might have ignorantly committed. Charles refused to see her, but sent her a message, couched in the most affectionate terms, assuring her he had nothing to forgive, but requesting her pardon for the many wrongs he had done her. At this time the Duchess of Portsmouth was seated by his pillow, and she took care that none should approach whose interests were likely to counteract her own. The King, after lingering a few days, died in her arms�a hypocrite to the last. It is remarkable, that Charles II., with all his popular qualities, so beloved, so regretted by the nation he had sold, cheated, impoverished, misgoverned, and enslaved, possessed not one personal friend: and the disgusting negligence with which his last remains were treated, strengthened the false report that he had been poisoned.1 He captivated all who approached him occasionally by his amiable manners; but only those who were at a distance were deceived by his hollow and heartless courtesy. One by one, the faithful adherents of his ' family withdrew in disgrace or in despair; and he who professedly mocked at the existence of virtue and disinterested attachment, and classed all mankind into knaves and fools, died, as he deserved, without a friend. On the King's death, Catherine made a very decent display of grief, and received the visits of condolence in a chamber lighted with tapers, and hung with funereal black from the ceiling to the floor.2 She afterwards resided at Somerset-House, as Queen-dowager, and had a villa at Hammersmith, where she spent the summer months very privately. Her principal diversion during her widowhood was music, which she had always loved. She had concerts regularly, and on a splendid scale: in all other respects she lived with rigid economy. She was much respected by James II. and his court. In 1692 she returned to Lisbon, carrying with her (according to Walpole) some valuable pictures out of the royal collection, as part payment of a debt she asserted to be due to her from the crown; and died there December 30, 1705, at the age of sixty-three. The picture at Windsor, from which the accompanying portrait is for the first time engraved, is by Sir Peter Lely. In every part, but more especially the drapery, it is admirably painted. She is represented as seated in a chair of state, and dressed in pearls and white satin, relieved by a dark olive curtain in the background. The attitude is rather unmeaning and undignified, but is probably characteristic. The face is round, the nose a little turned up ; the eyes black and languishing ; the mouth, though far from ugly, 1 See Burnet. . 2 Dryden, in his Monody on the death of Charles II., had the good taste to refrain from any mention of the Queen, " sensible that her grief would be an apocryphal, as well as delicate theme." Otway and others had not this forbearance. In one of these poetical " addresses of condolence," the grief of the Queen for the loss of her royal consort is compared to that of the Blessed Virgin ! QUEEN CATHERINE OF BRAGANZA. 25 has an expression of pouting melancholy. This portrait appears to have been taken within the two first years after her marriage, while yet she loved her husband, and deeply resented those infidelities and negligences which she afterwards bore with such exemplary patience. [To the foregoing elegant sketch of the life of the Queen of Charles the Second, we are tempted to append a somewhat long extract from Clarendon, which shows how much she lost in the esteem of her friends by the ease with which she yielded and reconciled herself to her husband's mistresses. We think we see a concealed sneer in the following extract from the "Chimney Scuffle," a satire printed in 1662, and therefore not long after the marriage, and soon after the first quarrel between the royal pair, and the subsequent condescensions of the Queen to Lady Castlemaine, on whose name it contains a rather poor pun:� " Clear that Augean stable ; let no stain Darken the splendor of our Charlemain, Nor his court gate : may th' ladies of this time Be emulators of our Katherine, Late come, long wish'd :------ The world's new moulded :' she who t'other day Could chant and chirp like any bird in May, Stor'd with caresses of the dearest sort That art could purchase from a foreign court, Limn'd so by Nature's pencil, as no part But gave a wound, where'er it found an heart * A fortress and main castle of defence i Secur'd from all assailants saving Sense.' But she's a convert and a mirrour now, Both in her carriage and profession too ; Divorc'd from strange embraces: as my pen May justly style her England's Magdalen. Wherein she's to be held of more esteem In being fam'd a convert of the Queen. And from relapse that she secur'd might be, She wisely daigns to keep her companie." After relating the circumstance of Catherine's first introduction to Lady Castlemaine, the affronts and mortifications to which she was subjected by her opposition to the King's will, and particularly the abrupt dismissal of her Portuguese attendants, Lord Clarendon goes on to observe,�" At last, when it was least expected or suspected, the Queen, on a sudden, let herself fall first to conversation and then to familiarity, and, even in the same instant, to a confidence with the lady; was merry with her in publick, talked kindly of her, and in private nobody used more friendly. This excess of condescension, without any provocation or invitation, except by multiplication of injuries and neglect, and after all friendships were renewed, and indulgence yielded to new liberty, did the Queen less good than her former resoluteness had done. Very many looked upon her with much compassion ; commended the greatness of her spirit, detested the barbarity of the affronts she underwent, and censured them as loudly as they durst, not without assuming the liberty, sometimes, of insinuating to the King himself, how much his own honour suffered in the neglect and disrespect of her own servants, who ought, at least in publick, to manifest some duty and reverence towards her majesty ; and how much he lost in the general affections of his subjects: arid that, besides the displeasure of God Almighty, he could not reasonably hope for children by the Queen, which was the great if not the only blessing of which he stood in need, whilst her heart was so full of grief, and whilst she was continually 26 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II. exercised with such insupportable afflictions. And many, who were not wholly unconversant with the King, nor strangers to his temper and constitution, did believe that he grew weary of the struggle, and even ready to- avoid the scandal that was so notorious, by the lady's withdrawing from the verge of the court, and being no longer seen there, how firmly soever the friendship might be established. But this sudden downfal, and total abandoning her own greatness ; this low demeanour, and even application to a person she had justly abhorred and worthily contemned, made all men conclude, that it was a hard matter to know her and, consequently, to serve her. And the King himself was so far from being reconciled by it, that the esteem which he could not hitherto but retain in heart for her, grew much less. He concluded, that all her former aversion, expressed in those lively passions which seemed not capable of dissimulation, was all fiction, and purely acted to the life, by a nature crafty, perverse and inconstant. He congratulated his own ill-natured perseverance ; by which he discovered how he was to behave himself hereafter, and what remedies he was to apply to all future indispositions : nor had he, ever after, the same value of her wit, judgment, and her understanding, which he had formerly; and was well enough pleased to observe, that the reverence others had for all three was somewhat diminiphed."�Ed.] BARBARA, DUCHESS OF CLEVELAND. sescsra THE DUCHESS OF CLEVELAND. " Love is all gentleness and joy; Smooth are his looks, and soft his pace; Her Cupid is a blackguard boy, That rubs his link full in your face !" Earl of Dorset. ^/j^^MMP any faith may be given to the scandalous chronicles of that period, the court ^^S^^g^ of Cromwell, with its cant and cropped heads, its u weel spread looves, and 'J^^ll frlP^ ^anS wry ^acesj" was no* ^ess licentious than that of Charles II.: the change S^^^^^j was rather of manners than of morals ; of costume, rather than of character. In the days of Oliver, Folly stalked about in solemn guise, and hid his bauble under a Geneva cloak; and in those of Charles, he flourished his coxcomb, and the " peal of his *bells rang merrily out,"�and this was better at least than sanctified foolery and sober vice. " The asinina Stella11l if not more predominant, was at all events more brilliant. It was not so much the supremacy of wickedness, as the magnanimous contempt of appearance�the brave defiance of decorum that distinguished the court and age of Charles II. from the solemnity of Cromwell's and the dulness of "William's. " The sin was of our native growth, 'tis true; The scandal of the sin was wholly new." The various causes which led to that general licence of manners which prevailed after the Restoration, are recorded by the historian, and do not fall within the province of these light Memoirs : one of them was undoubtedly the personal character of that vain and profligate woman who, in the commencement of his reign, ruled the court and heart of Charles^ and whose beauty and misconduct have doomed her to an infamous celebrity. Sir William Yilliers, descended from the eldest branch of the house of Villiers, (the younger branch becoming Dukes of Buckingham,) succeeded his uncle, Oliver St. John, in the title of Viscount Grandison, in the kingdom of Ireland. On the breaking out of the civil wars, he, with all his family, adhered to the King's party, and distinguished himself by his devoted loyalty and chivalrous bravery. At the siege of Bristol, in 1643, he was desperately wounded; and being carried to Oxford, died there a few days afterwards, at the age of thirty. Lord Clarendon, who relates the manner of his death, adds this captivating and well-drawn portrait:�u Lord Grandison was a young man of so virtuous a habit of 1 " Che s'io non erro al calcolar de' punti, Par ch' asinina stella a noi predomini." Salvator Rosa. 28 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II. mind, that no temptation or provocation could corrupt him; so great a lover of justice and integrity, that no example, necessity, or even the barbarities of this war, could make him swerve from the most precise rules of it; and of that rare piety and devotion, that the court, or camp, could not show a more faultless person, or to whose example young men might more reasonably conform themselves. His personal valour and courage of all kinds (for he had sometimes indulged so much to the corrupt opinion of honour as to venture himself in duels) were very eminent, insomuch as he was accused of being too prodigal of his person; his affection, zeal, and obedience to the King, was such as became a branch of that family.'' And he was wont to say, " that if he had not understanding enough to know the uprightness of the cause, nor loyalty enough to inform him of the duty of a subject, yet the very obligations of gratitude to the King, on the behalf of his house, were such as his life was but a due sacrifice; and therefore, he no sooner saw the war unavoidable, than he engaged all his brethren, as well as himself, in the service, and there were then three more of them in command in the army, where he was so unfortunately cut off." He married Mary, third daughter of Paul, Viscount Bayning, by whom he left an only daughter and heiress, Barbara Villiers, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland. Of the early life and education of this too celebrated woman, I have not been able to collect any authentic information. She married, at the age of eighteen, Roger Palmer, Esq., a gentleman of fortune, and loyal adherent of the exiled King. Her first acquaintance with Charles probably commenced in Holland, whither she accompanied her husband in 1659, when he carried to the King a considerable sum of money to aid in his restoration, and Assisted him also by his personal services. But her connexion with Charles cannot be traced with any certainty before the very day of his entrance into London: on the evening of that day, Charles, instead of sleeping in the palace of his ancestors, to which he had just been restored, skulked away privately to the house of Sir Samuel Morland, at Vauxhall, where he had an assignation with Mrs. Palmer. That an accomplished prince, in the prime of life, skilled in all the arts that ensnare her sex,�the sovereign for whose sake her father had fought and bled; whom she had just seen restored�miraculously restored, as it was then believed,�to the throne of his fathers, welcomed to his capital with almost delirious joy, and who, in such a moment, threw himself and his new-found kingdom at her feet, should have conquered the heart and triumphed over the virtue of a woman so vain and volatile, is not marvellous: she was only nineteen, and thrown by the blind confidence or time-serving carelessness of her husband, into the very way of temptation. Thus far her frailty, if not excusable, might have beenypardoned, if the end had not proved that personal affection for the King had little to do with her lapse from virtue, and that, in short, she was more of a Montespan than a La Valliere, more of an Alice Pierce than a Jane Shore. In a few months after the Restoration, Palmer was created an Irish peer,- with the title of Earl of Castlemaine. He, meekest of men, was, or affected to be, a little sulky and restive at first under his new dignities, but means were soon found to pacify him; and he afterwards submitted to the coronet, and other honours which his beautiful wife showered on his head, with a spirit of philosophy and resignation which was quite edifying.1 1 " But that which pleased me best was, that my Lady Castlemaine stood over against us upon a piece of White Hall. But methought it was strange to see her lord and her upon the same place, walking up and down, without taking notice one of another; only at first entry, he put off his hat, and she made him a very civil salute, but afterwards took no notice one of another; but both of them now and then would take their child, which the nurse held in her arms, and dandle it." This was on occasion of the Queen's triumphant entry into London, she being brought with great state by THE DUCHESS OF CLEVELAND. 29 The passion of the King for Lady Castlemaine, and her influence over him, were at their height at the time that his marriage with Catherine of Portugal was, from political motives, resolved on. When the Queen's arrival at Portsmouth was announced in London? Charles was supping at Lady Castlemaine's house in the Strand. Bonfires had been lighted, in token of respect and rejoicing, before every door in the street except hers�an omission which did not pass unobserved: nor did she attempt to conceal her despair, when the King left her to meet his brideo It was probably sincere; for she had as much reason to dread, as all good men had to hope from, the influence of a young and beloved Queen. Unhappily her fears and others' hopes proved groundless: the King could not break the fetters which her charms and her imperious temper had flung round him, and the Queen had not beauty and tact enough to win him from her rival. Catherine had arrived in England with a fixed resolution not to admit Lady Castlemaine into her presence,�"her mother," she said, "had enjoined her not to do so:" but the King had determined otherwise; and the gay courtiers, who had the most influence over his mind, were precisely those who had everything to hope from the misrule of Lady Castlemaine, and nothing to expect from the countenance of Catherine. Charles, like all weak men, had a dread of being governed by a wife-; and they persuaded him that it was infinitely more magnanimous to be enslaved by a termagant mistress, than to comply with the reasonable demands of his Queen; and artfully represented the former, and not the latter, as the object of compassion. They observed, u that he had, by the charms of his person and of his professions, prevailed upon the affections and heart of a young and beautiful lady of a noble extraction, whose father had lost his life in the service of the crown; that she had provoked the jealousy and rage of her husband to that degree, that he had separated himself from her; and now the Queen's indignation had made the matter so> notorious to the world, that the disconsolate lady had no place of retreat left,, but must be made an object of infamy and contempt to all her sex, and to the whole world." l To give colour to these insinuations, Lady Castlemaine had fled from the house of her husband^�not forgetting, however,, to carry with her all her jewels, plate, and furniture,� and went over to Richmond, to be nearer Hampton Court, then the scene of battle.. The issue of this affair has been given in the Memoir of Queen Catherine. Lady Castlemaine was created one of the ladies of the bed-chamber, and soon after lodged in Whitehall, where; she occupied apartments immediately over those of the King.2 From this time may be dated the absolute power which this haughty and abandoned woman exercised over the easy-tempered Charles,�an influence never exercised but for her water from Hampton Court. Immediately after follows a trait of good nature, which must not be suppressed, the rather because it is solitary: the worst, however, are not wholly bad. A scaffolding happened to fall at the moment, and Lady Castlemaine was the only one among the great ladies of court, who, from an impulse of humanity, ran down among, the " common rabble " to see what injury had been done, and took charge of a poor child which had been hurt in the crowd, " which methought was so noble. Anon came one booted and spurred, whom she talked with ; and by and by, she being in her hair, she put on his hat, which was but an ordinary one, to: keep the wind off: but it became her mightily, as every thing else do*"�Pepys9 Diary, vol. i. p. 161. 1 " Those discourses," continues Lord Clarendon, " together with a little book newly printed at Paris, according to the licence of that nation, of the amours of Henry IV., which was by them presented to him, and too concernedly read by him, made that impression upon his mind," in her letters to Madame de Guignan, speaks generally of the Countess of Grammont as of a person- by no means agreeable, somewhat affected, and much inclined to give herself haughty airs.�Ed.] 48 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II. her, was so little worthy of his happiness. We look for something far beyond mere superficial talents and graces in him who was the husband of one so peerless. He was gay, gallant, polished in his address, and elegant in his person; his wit ready, pointed, yet perfectly good-humoured: he told a story with inimitable grace�then, as now, a true Parisian accomplishment. He appears to have been a man of the most happy temperament, his vivacity and animal spirits inexhaustible, and his invulnerable self-complacency beyond the reach of a serious thought or a profound feeling of any kind. But these are only the garnish and " outward flourishes," which make a character, otherwise estimable, irresistible. Where was the high honour, the chivalrous feeling, the refined sentiments, the nobility of soul, the generous self-devotion, which should have distinguished the husband of Miss Hamilton? Frivolous, worthless, heartless, inconstant, a selfish epicure, a gambler, a sharper, a most malicious enemy, a negligent friend, and a faithless lover:�such was De Grammont, such is the character which Bussy-Rabutin,1 and even his partial friend St. Evremond, have left of him, and which he was well content to support in the " M&noires" which Hamilton wrote from his dictation, and published in his lifetime.2 Whether the lovely, noble-minded, and far-superior woman, who had flung away herself upon his unwor-thiness, afterwards discovered how false was the foundation on which she had built her happiness, we have no means of knowing;�if not, she was more effectually blinded by love than many of her sex who have committed the same irreparable mistake. They appear to have lived together on easy terms. Towards the latter part of her life,, the Countess de Grammont became very devout, and was extremely scandalized by her husband's epicurism and infidelity. De Grammont, who had never known an hour's sickness, used to say he should never die. At last, however, in his seventyrfifth year, he fell dangerously ill, and the King (Louis XIV.) sent the Marquis Dangeau to him, to remind him that it was time to think of God. De Grammont listened to him with polite attention, and turning to his wife, said with a smile, " Comtesse, si vous n'y prenez garde, Dangeau vous escamotera ma conversion!" He recovered from this attack, and seemed more than ever convinced of his own immortality: but paid at length the forfeit of humanity, dying in 1707, at the age of eighty-six. From a letter of St. Evremond to Ninon de FEnclos, it appears that his wife had the satisfaction of converting him at last, and that he died " tres d^vot." The countess survived him but a short time: she left two daughters. Claude Charlotte, the eldest, inherited her mother's beauty, and her father's wit and vivacity. She 1 " Le Chevalier avait les jeux rians, le nez bien fait, la bouche belle, une petite fossette au menton, qui faisait un agreable effet sur son visage; je ne sais quoi de fin dans la physionomie, la taille assez belle s'il ne se fut point voute, l'esprit galant et delicat. II ecrivait le plus mal du monde.�Quoiqu'il soit superflu de dire qu'un rival soit incommode, le Chevalier 1'etait au point qu'il eut mieux valu pour une pauvre femme, en avoir quatre sur les bras que lui seul. II etait liberal jusques a la profusion ; et par la sa maitresse ni ses rivaux ne pouvait avoir de valets fideles. D'ailleufs le meilleur gargon du monde. Une chose qui faisait qu'il lui etait plus difficile de persuader qu'a un autre, etait qu'il ne parlait jamais serieusement, de sorte qu'il fallait qu'une femme se flattait beaucoup pour croire qu'il fut amoureux d'elle."�Histoire Amoureuse des Gaules. 2 Before the Memoires du Oomte de Grammont were published, they were of course submitted to the censorship. Fontenelle was then Censeur Eoyal; and he was so scandalized at the idea of a peer of France being represented as a common sharper, or, in polite phrase, " one who used address to correct the errors of Fortune," that he flatly refused his approbation. De Grammont, on hearing this, hastened to wait upon the scrupulous censor, and demanded, with his usual vivacity, what business he had to be more solicitous about a nobleman's reputation than he was himself? and desired that he would do him the favour instantly to sign the licence, if the freedom with which his character was treated was the only objection to the work. Fontenelle, as it may be supposed, made no more difficulties. He might have replied to De Grammont, as the latter did to Madame de Herault. The Count had visited the lady to pay his compliments of condolence on the death of her husband: she received them with an air of extreme coldness; upon which, suddenly changing his tone, he exclaimed gaily,�" Le prenez-vous par la ?�Ma foi, je ne m'en soucie pas plus que vous !" THE COUNTESS DE GRAMMONT 49 married Henry Lord Stafford, and is the same Lady Stafford who was the friend and correspondent of Lady M. W. Montague. The youngest daughter died abbess of a convent in Lorraine. The portrait annexed is from the picture by Sir Peter Lely, painted for the Duchess of York, and now at Windsor. We are told that, at the time, Lely was enchanted with his subject, and every one considered it as the finest effort of his pencil, both as a painting and a resemblance.1 The dignified attitude and elegant turn of the head, are well befitting her who was "grande et gracieuse dans le moindre de ses movemens:" we have here " le petit nez delicat," the fine contour of face, the lovely bust, the open expansive brow, and the lips, ripe, rich, and breathing sweets, at least to the imagination. A few pearls are negligently interwoven among her luxuriant tresses, as if on purpose to recall Crashaw's beautiful compliment to his mistress:� " Tresses that wear Jewels but to declare How much themselves more precious are. Each ruby there, Or pearl, that dare appear, Be its own blush,�be its own tear." The countenance has infinitely more spirit and intellect than Sir Peter Lely's beauties in general exhibit; and though, perhaps, a little too proud and elevated in its present expression, it must have been, when brightened into smiles, or softened with affection, exquisitely bewitching. The neck and throat are beautifully painted, the drapery is grand and well-disposed, and the back-ground has a rich and deep tone of colour, finely relieving the figure. There is a slight defect in the drawing of the right arm. Lely, did not, like Vandyke, paint his hands and arms from nature; they are in general all alike, pretty and delicate, but destitute of individual character, and often ill drawn. In the present instance this is the more to be regretted, because Miss Hamilton, among her other perfections, was celebrated for the matchless beauty of her hand and arm. EPITEE DE ST. EVEEMOND A M. LE CHEVALIEE DE GEAMMONT, A Voccasion de son amour pour Mademoiselle Hamilton. Il n'est qu'un Chevalier au monde ! Et que ceux de la table ronde, Que les plus fameux aux tournois, Aux avantures, aux exploits, Me pardonnent si je les quitte Pour chanter un nouveau merite; C'est celui qu'on vit a la cour, Jadis si galant sans amour, La meme qui silt a Bruxelles Comme ici plaire aux demoiselles; Gagner tout F argent des maris, Et puis revenir a Paris, 1 Chaque portrait parut un chef-d'oeuvre; et celui de Mademoiselle Hamilton parut le plus acheve. Lely avoua qu'il y avait prit plaisir, . �i� yet cunning; and taught by the lessons of an intriguing mother, she was able to turn the arts of men against themselves: she could grant small favours, hold out alluring hopes, descend, in fact, far beneath a woman's dignity, and strangely compromise a maiden's modesty. But what then ? she preserved a sort of negative reputation; and this, I am afraid, is all that can be granted to Miss Stewart. Perhaps, if we consider the situation in which she was placed, even this is much: she was pursued for years by a gay, enamoured, captivating monarch; and not only kept him at bay, and trifled with his passion, but drew 1 Clarendon, p. 338, folio edit. 82 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES IL within the vortex of her destructive charms some of the courtiers, whose youth or vanity forgot the greatness of the risk in the greatness of the temptation. Among the most distinguished of these was the Duke of Buckingham,�he who, at once " chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon," could adapt himself to all women as well as to all men. Miss Stewart's amusements were so childish, that Count Hamilton assures us, "tout y �tait, hors les poupees;"1 blindman's-buff, and hunt the slipper, were among her favourite diversions. In the presence-chamber she used to employ herself in building houses of cards: while those who wished to secure the good graces 'of the beautiful favourite, forsook the basset-table to supply her with materials, or affected eagerly to partake her amusement. Among these, Buckingham, that universal genius, was conspicuous for his skill in this frail species of architecture: he sang well; he was an excellent mimic, he composed impromptu fairy tales to admiration, and couplets more remarkable for their wit. than their delicacy. These accomplishments, and his gay impertinence, made him so agreeable to Miss Stewart, that with the King's permission, or at least in his presence, she used to send for the duke to amuse her whenever she felt ennuyee. Buckingham's original design had been to secure an influence over her mind, which should enable him, by governing her, to rule his master; but he was caught in his own device: he was unable to resist the charms and flattering smiles of this young Armida; and at length exchanged the character of an amusing companion, to assume that of a sighing Damon. The metamorphosis was so little pleasing to Miss Stewart, that he received a repulse, from which he did not soon recover; and which, as it compromised him with the King, left him completely at her mercy. Instead of making her subservient to his purpose, he was obliged to content himself with being subservient to hers. The younger Hamilton was another of her lovers: it does not appear that he was distinguished for his skill in card-houses, and by his own confession, he did not pique himself on his ready invention of fairy tales and scandalous stories for her amusement. The manner in which he first attracted the particular notice of Miss Stewart, gives us a strange idea of the coarse manners which prevailed in Charles's court. A brilliant circle had assembled one evening in Miss Stewart's apartments at Whitehall, and Lord Carlingford, an old Irish peer, undertook to amuse the young beauty by making what is vulgarly called a " lantern of his jaws;" that is, holding a lighted taper in his mouth for a certain time. Hamilton would not be outdone in this noble accomplishment, and he confounded his competitor by holding at once two tapers in his capacious mouth. Killigrew humourously complimented him, and offered to back him against a lantern, while Miss Stewart was thrown into ecstasies. From this time Hamilton was more particularly graced by her favour, and made one of her select coterie; he presented her with a beautiful little horse, on which she had an opportunity of displaying her inimitable elegance as an equestrian, and was always at her side to teach her how to manage her spirited steed. In short, the lady became every day more gracious, and the gentleman more enamoured; and if De Grammont, then in love with Miss Hamilton, had not interfered, with a kind of fraternal interest, and roused Hamilton from his inconsiderate dream, this affair would probably have ended in his 1 Miss Stewart was not absolutely singular in her penchant for romping or childish diversions. For instance, we find the following memorandum in Pepys: " I did find the Duke and Duchess of York, and all the great ladies, sitting upon a carpet on the ground, there being no chairs, playing at' I love my love with an A, because he is so and so;' and, < I hate him with an A, because of this and that;' and some of them, but particularly the Duchess herself and my Lady Castlemaine, were very witty."�Pepys' Diary, vol. ii. p. 311. THE DUCHESS OF RICHMOND. 83 disgrace, and consequent ruin, as his fortunes depended wholly on the King's favour. De Grammont represented to him that Miss Stewart had in reality no other view than that of making him her " esclave de parade;" that Charle�, though in general the most easy and peaceable of men and monarchs, was not to be trifled with on certain points. " Point de raillerie avec le maitre, c'est a dire, point de lorgnerie avec la maitresse." Hamilton had just so much sense, or so little love, as to take this friendly advice, and withdrew his pretensions in time to escape banishment from the court, which assuredly would have been the consequence of his temerity. Miss Stewart had also the honour of inspiring with a more serious and fervent passion Francis Digby, one of the sons of the Earl of Bristol, and a brave and accomplished young man. This attachment is not alluded to in the Memoirs of De Grammont, being of a later date than the events recorded there; nor can we guess at the degree of encouragement she may have given him, except by remembering her character. It was sufficient to turn his head, and to make him rush upon danger and death as a relief; he was killed in the sea-fight between the English and the Dutch in the year 1672. His devoted love for Miss Stewart was so well and so publicly known, that Dryden made his fate and her cruelty the subject of his song, "Farewell, fair Armida."1 To these distinguished admirers we may add two others, not unknown to fame. Phib lippe Eotier, the celebrated medallist, who was called over to England to cut the die for the new coinage, exhibited her head on the reverse for Britannia. This man became so passionately enamoured of Miss Stewart while she sat to him, as nearly to lose his senses. Walpole says, that the profile which the same artist afterwards engraved for a medal, displays the most perfect face ever seen."2 Nat Lee, the poet, has addressed a dedication to her, which is perfect " Midsummer Madness ;"3 but as he was already on the high road to Bedlam, that is not very surprising. The Duke of Richmond4 also sighed for her, but he contented himself for some time with distant homage, and with drinking pint bumpers in honour of her beauty, till he had almost lost the little intellect nature had bestowed on him; but what he lost in wit he seems to have gained in audacity, for he made the fair lady understand, that though re- 1 This song is mere common-place, and deserved the ridicule thrown .on it in the " Rehearsal," where it is ludicrously parodied in " A song made by Tom Thimble's first wife after she was dead." 2 In Waller's poems is an epigram on this medal, beginning� " Our guard upon the royal side, On the reverse our beauty's pride," &c. It contains a compliment to Miss Stewart, which implies that her resistance to the King received its full credit at court; the verses are common-place, and if there be any point in the last line, - " Virtue's a stronger guard than brass !" it can only mean that the virtue of Miss Stewart, such as it was, stood her in more stead than the brass of Lady Castlemaine! 3 For instance:�" Something there is in your mien so much above what we vulgarly call charming, that to me it seems adorable, and your presence almost divine, whose dazzling and majestic form is a proper mansion for the most elevated soul; and let me tell the world, nay sighing speak to a barbarous age, (I cannot help calling it so, when I think of Rome and Greece,) your extraordinary love for heroic poetry is not the least argument to show the greatness of your mind and fulness of perfection. To hear you speak, with that infinite sweetness and cheerfulness of spirit that is natural to your grace, is, methinks, to hear our tutelar angels; 'tis to bemoan the present malicious times, and remember the Golden Age; but to behold you, too, is to make prophets quite forget their heaven, and blind a poet with eternal rapture!" &c. &c. * Charles Stewart, Duke of Eichmond and Lennox: he was the last Duke of Richmond of his family. After his death, Charles II. conferred the title on the son of the Duchess of Portsmouth. The present head of that branch of the Stewarts, from which the Duke of Richmond and Lord Blantyre (Miss Stewart's grandfather) were both descended, is, I believe, the Earl of Galloway. 84 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II duced for the present to drown his love in wine, he was ready to make her a duchess whenever she was willing to elope with him. In the mean time, though the King had the power of keeping all competitors at a distance, he was not himself more avance. Miss Stewart retained her power by standing most pertinaciously on the defensive, without actually driving him to despair. When the Queen fell dangerously ill, she was immediately surrounded by the obsequious and rapacious courtiers, and regarded as her probable successor: the atrocious advice of the Duke of Buckingham on this occasion, has been related in the memoir of Queen Catherine. Miss Stewart, on her quarrel with Lady Castlemaine, had made a great display of duty to the Queen, who treated her with kindness, and seems to have placed some confidence in her discretion. While the King pursued her with the most undisguised and insulting attention, Miss Stewart certainly avenged some of the wrongs of her mistress, and her whole sex, by the dexterity with which she contrived to torment her accomplished but profligate lover. She stooped at times to very equivocal compliances when afraid to lose him; at another moment she would talk of throwing herself into a French convent: and her airs and caprices, her alternate fits of hauteur and tenderness, so agitated the King, that he sometimes appeared at the council-board like a man distracted. He offered titles which were refused, and presents�which were accepted; he set about reforming his menage dJamour in compliance with her affected scruples and pretended jealousy; he promised to give up Lady Castlemaine, and to discard his singers and actresses, and other superfluous ladies then on his establishment;�in vain! till at a .critical moment the Chevalier De Grammont stepped in to his majesty's assistance. De Grammont had just received from Paris a certain caleche, which he presented to the King. Such a caleche, so light, so elegant in its form, so finished in all its appointments, had never before been seen in England: it excited the admiration of the whole court. The Queen, Lady Castlemaine, and Miss Stewart, were each eager to be the first to exhibit themselves in this wonderful caleche. The preference was given to Miss Stewart,�a preference which, it was scandalously insinuated, cost the fair lady some diminution of that immaculate purity upon which she had hitherto piqued herself. It may be said, in excuse for Miss Stewart, that her situation was peculiar and difficult ; the King was armed with a power, which, in those days, few thought of resisting; an* either to free herself from his pursuit, or anxious to be made a duchess on reputable terms, she listened to the addresses of the Duke of Eichmond. Love (even by her own confession) had little to do with this choice; the duke was merely a good-natured fool, addicted to habitual intoxication; and with no one recommendation to a lady's grace but his high rank, and his near relationship to the royal family. One evening, Lady Castlemaine, who kept paid spies to watch all the movements of her dangerous rival, discovered that she had an appointment with the Duke of Richmond, and instantly informed the King, with the most insulting expressions, to whom, and for whom, he was sacrificed. Driven by this female fury, the King rushed to the apartment of Miss Stewart: her women looked terrified, and denied him access, assuring him that their lady had retired to rest, much indisposed, and unable to see him. He pushed them aside, and forced his way rudely to her chamber. On entering abruptly, he found the fair lady reclining on a couch, and certainly neither indisposed nor asleep. The Duke of Richmond was seated at her side. The inexpressible confusion of the lovers, thus surprised, can only be imagined; and the King, unable to restrain his rage, burst into a torrent of threats and reproaches, which seemed to terrify the Duke much more than they discomposed Miss Stewart. The room in which this scene took place overlooked the river; THE DUCHESS OF RICHMOND. 85 he cast a glance at the window, then at the King, whose eyes sparkled, and whose frame trembled with unwonted passion; and judging it best not to trust his safety within reach of the lion's paw, he made no reply, but with a profound bow, backed out of the apartment, leaving the lady to make her peace as best she might. She, who well knew the character of Charles, assumed a high tone on the occasion, insisted on her right to receive the addresses of the duke in what manner and what time she pleased, complained of insult and tyranny, and threatened to throw herself into a nunnery abroad. The King left her in anger, and in the utmost agitation. The following day the Duke of Richmond was ordered to quit the court; but, not being gifted with the assurance or magnanimity of his mistress, or through that best part of wisdom, which some call cowardice and some discretion, he had anticipated the royal commands, and retired the night before. A few days afterwards, Miss Stewart took an opportunity of throwing herself at the feet of the Queen her mistress, and very pathetically entreated her protection and forgiveness; the good-natured Catherine, now subdued to "the quality of her lord," forgave her. She considered, that since she must needs suffer a rival, it would be better to trust the gentleness of Miss Stewart, than to be outbraved by the insolent termagant, Castlemaine; and that by preventing the flight or marriage of a woman whom her husband loved to distraction, she was giving herself a claim to his, eternal gratitude ; in consequence, she charitably exerted herself to bring about a reconciliation between the King and his coy, perverse mistress, and succeeded so well, that for awhile all was peace and smiles-�a hollow peace and most deceitful smiles. . One cold dark night, in the month of March, 1667, Miss Stewart found means to steal from her lodging in Whitehall; and joined the Duke of Eichmond at a tavern in Westminster, where he had horses waiting, she eloped with him into Surrey, and they were privately married the next morning by the duke's chaplain. " What dire events from amorous causes spring," we are not now to learn from tale or . history. A catastrophe, which hung upon the caprice of a giddy woman, influenced the destiny of three kingdoms. The King was transported with rage at a step which seemed to set his love and power at defiance: all who were suspected of having been privy to the marriage of Miss Stewart with the Duke of Richmond (among whom were some of the King's best friends and wisest counsellers,) fell under his extreme displeasure. The great Lord Clarendon was deprived of the Seals and banished,1 and his dismissal was followed by those consequences which paved the way for the Revolution. Pepys, in his Diary, records a conversation which took place soon after her marriage, between the Duchess of Richmond and one of the lords of the court, which is very consistent with her character and conduct throughout. She said, that " when the Duke * of Richmond first made love to ^her, she did ask the King, and the duke did so likewise; and that the King did not at first refuse his consent." She confessed, u that she was come to that pass, as to resolve to have married any gentleman of �1,500 a-year, who would have had her in honour, for she could not longer continue in the court without submitting to the wishes of the King, whom she had so long kept off, though he had liberty more than any other had, and more than he ought to have had;" she said that u she had reflected on 1 The Earl of Clarendon's son, the Lord Cornbury, was going to her (Miss Stewart's) lodgings, upon some assignation that she had given him about her affairs, knowing nothing of her intentions. He met the King in the door, coming out, full of furj. And he, suspecting that Lord Cornburj was in the design, spoke to him as one in a rage that forgot all decency, and for some time would not hear Lord Cornbury speak in his own defence. In the afternoon he heard him with more temper, as he himself told me. Yet this made so deep an impression, that he resolved to take the Seals from his father."�Burnet's'History of his own Time, vol. i. p. 354. L 86 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II. the occasion she had given 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 she sought not anything but her honour."�" She 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."1 Evelyn believed her to be worth about �6,000 in jewels: among these was a pearl necklace, then valued at �1,100, the King's first present to her: he had allowed her, while in the court, �700 a-year for her clothes; but these were trifles, compared to the sums lavished on Lady Castlemaine and Lady Portsmouth. There is reason to believe, that had Miss Stewart been more complying, she might have commanded any thing which it was in the power of the weak monarch to bestow. But little is known of the Duchess of Richmond after her marriage: she resisted for some time all temptations and entreaties to return to the court; but in 1668, she was appointed one of the ladies of the Queen's bedchamber, and was lodged in Somerset House, where Catherine then resided. Pepys says, a that the apartments allotted to her and the duke were sumptuous, and that the King frequently visited her, but merely in courtesy." About two years after her marriage she was attacked by the small-pox, from which she recovered with great difficulty. The King paid her much attention during her illness, and even afterwards, when the ravages of that cruel disease had so impaired her matchless beauty, that she was scarcely to be recognized: one of her brilliant eyes was nearly quenched for ever.2 In 1672, the Duke of Richmond was appointed ambassador to the court of Denmark, and died at Elsinore the same year. His duchess did not accompany him abroad; and after his death she continued to reside in the court near the person of the Queen, with whom she continued a favourite; and Charles having attached himself to the Duchess of Portsmouth, La Belle Stewart was no longer honoured or dishonoured by his assiduities. She never married again after the loss of her husband, nor do we hear any thing more of her till her death, which took place in 1702. During the latter part of her life, her time seems to have been divided between cards and cats; and in her last will she bequeathed several of her favourite cats to different female friends, with legacies for their support. The well-known line in Pope's "Moral Essays,"� " Die, and endow a college�or a cat!" alludes to the will of the Duchess of Richmond. Warton, with more good nature than probability, supposes this to have been a delicate way of providing for poor, and probably proud gentlewomen, without making them feel that they owed their livelihood to her mere liberality: if this were the only scruple, methinks it would have been more generous to have left the annuities unburthened with the cats. The bulk of her property was left to her nephew, Walter Stewart, commonly called the Master of Blantyre, for the purchase of certain estates, to be attached to the name and family, and called, in memory of the donor, " Lennox's love to Blantyre." Miss Stewart had a younger sister, Sophia Stewart, married to William, third son of the Lord Bulkeley; she too was celebrated for her beauty. 1 Pepys, vol. ii. p. 46. 2 Vide Letters from Kouviguy to Louis XIV., in Dalrymple's Memoirs. THE DUCHESS OF RICHMOND. 87 The engraved portrait is from the Gallery of Beauties at Windsor, and represents the Duchess of Richmond as Diana. She holds a bow in one hand, and with the other supports her dress, as if tripping over the dew. The drapery is of a pale yellow. The features are regular, but deficient in expression; and the nose is not sufficiently aquiline to agree with other portraits of Miss Stewart, and with the minute descriptions of her person which have been handed down to us. The landscape in this picture is most beautifully painted. MRS. LAWSON. " Condamnee a la celebrite, sans pouvoir etre connue." De Stael. Y this title the portrait in the Beauty-room at Windsor has always been traditionally known; but, according to the present style, Mrs.Lawson should properly be Miss Lawson, as the lady here represented was certainly unmarried.1 Horace Walpole, Granger, and others, have supposed this picture to be that of Miss Lawson, one of the daughters of the brave and celebrated Admiral Sir John Lawson, who died in consequence of the wounds he received in the sea-fight of 1665, and of whom Lord Clarendon has left us a noble character. This opinion, which is unsupported by any proof except the name, appears, on examination, very improbable. Sir John Lawson was a man of very low extraction, who had formerly been a ship-boy of Hull, and rose, under Cromwell, to be admiral of the fleet. Hitnself and his whole family had been Puritans and Republicans; and, although upon the Restoration he declared for the King, saying it was his duty to defend and fight for his country, no matter who governed it, it is not very likely that his family should be distinguished at court, where he himself seldom came. His eldest daughter married -Richard Norton, Esq., of Southwick, which was considered so great a match, that to bestow on her a portion worthy of it, Sir John impoverished himself and the rest of his family.2 There is not the slightest reason to suppose that this young lady had any claims to be included in a series of Court Beauties. The Mrs. Lawson of the Windsor Gallery, must have been one of the five daughters of Sir John Lawson, a Roman Catholic baronet, of Brough, in Yorkshire. He married Catherine Howard, a daughter of the Earl of Carlisle, whose younger brother, Thomas Howard,3 became the second husband of Mary Villiers, Duchess of Richmond, and sister of the Duke of Buckingham. Thus, a woman of high rank and intriguing spirit, connected by her first marriage with the blood royal, and the sister of the reigning favourite, became the aunt of the five Miss Lawsons. There is reason to believe, from various scattered notices, that this Duchess of Rich- 1 In the reign of Charles II., and long afterwards, Mrs. or Mistress was the usual appellation of a young unmarried woman. Married women were entitled Madam. The word Miss was seldom used but in a very disreputable sense. 2 See Clarendon's " History," and Campbell's " Lives of the Admirals." 3 He fought a duel with the invincible Jermyn, on account of that " angel-devil" Lady Shrewsbury. MRS. LAWSON, DAUGHTER OF SIR JOHN LAWSON, OF BROUGH. MRS. LAWS OK 89 mond introduced one of her nieces at court, with a view of captivating the easy affections of Charles, and counteracting, through her influence, the ascendancy of the Duchess of Portsmouth. One part of this plan appears to have succeeded, for Miss Lawson became the object of the King's admiration, whose attentions to her were so public, that they are frequently alluded to, and the Portsmouth faction was thrown into some consternation. But it also appears, that on this occasion Charles met with very unusual resistance, and that Miss Lawson was not easily won,�if, indeed, she was won at all, of which there is no existing proof. There is a coarse political satire of that time, (about 1674,) quoted by Sir William Musgrave, in which all the celebrated beauties of the court are represented as contending for the post of Maitresse en litre. Miss Lawson is mentioned among the rest; but she is rejected, by reason of her " too great modesty." There are other contemporary songs, epigrams, satires, worthless in themselves, where Miss Lawson's name occurs. She is never alluded to but as one hitherto innocent, and exposed to danger from the intrigues of her aunt, and the profligate pursuit of the King. The following passage will serve as a specimen: " Yet, Lawson, thou whose arbitrary sway, Our King must, more than we do him, obey, Who shortly shall of easy Charles's breast, And of his empire, be at once possest; Though it indeed appear a glorious thing To command power and to enslave a King; Yet, ere the false appearance has betray'd A soft, believing, unexperienced maid, Ah! yet consider, ere it be too late, How near you stand upon the brink of fate." 1 Sir William Musgrave adds, " that the five sisters became nuns at York," and this is all that can be discovered concerning the original of this portrait. If we may believe in the existence of innocence, which even slander appears to have respected, and satire itself to have compassionated, and if .we can suppose it possible that such innocence could be maintained in a corrupt court, surrounded not only by temptations, but by the most villanous snares, we ought to deem Miss Lawson acquitted, notwithstanding the evil society in which she appears. The picture, which is by Wissing, is not in itself eminently lovely or interesting; but, as one of the Windsor Beauties, it could not well have been omitted in this collection. It is very beautifully painted; and in the face there is an expression of mildness and goodness, which agrees with the few particulars which have been collected relative to that Mrs. Lawson, whom I suppose to have been the subject of the portrait. 1 Musgrave's " Biographical Adversaria/' MS. No. 5723, British Museum. THE COUNTESS OF CHESTERFIELD. " Extremely mad the man I surely deem, That weens with watch and hard restraint to stay A woman's will, that is disposed to go astray. It is not iron bands, nor hundred eyes, Nor brazen walls, nor many wakeful spies, That can withhold her wilful, wandering feet; But fast good will and gentle courtesies." Spenseb. ADY ELIZABETH BUTLER, eldest daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Ormond, and sister of the gallant and accomplished Lord Ossory, was born at Kilkenny, on the 29th of June, 1640. Her birth had nearly cost the life of her excellent mother, who had scarcely recovered from the effects of a long and dangerous confinement, when the civil wars broke out: the events which followed, and which so deeply involved in their consequences the happiness and fortunes of the Ormond family, need not be related here. The childhood of Lady Elizabeth was passed in scenes of tumult and constant vicissitude, but always under the care and protection of her mother; at length, her parents were driven from their country and obliged to seek a refuge upon the Continent, where the duchess resided for some time with her young family, principally at Caen in Normandy. The marriage between Lady Elizabeth Butler and the young Earl of Chesterfield was arranged at the Hague in 1659, and was to have taken place at the same time with that of her brother, Lord Ossory; but it appears that the duchess just at that time was obliged to give up the portion intended for her daughter, to aid the King in his necessHies: the exact date of the marriage is uncertain, but it was probably solemnized at the Hague in the beginning of the year 1660. Lady Elizabeth was then about nineteen, and the young earl in his twenty-fifth year: a marriage so suitable in age, in rank, and in personal accomplishments, was rendered miserable, by circumstances over which neither had any control. Lord Chesterfield had previously married Lady Anne Percy, the daughter of Algernon, Earl of Northumberland: she died very young in 1654, leaving him a widower at the age of twenty. He afterwards travelled, and spent two years in the various courts of Italy; whence he returned in 1659, and received the hand of Lady Elizabeth, according to a family compact between his mother, the Countess of Chesterfield, and the Duke of Ormond. He is described by Hamilton as a handsome man, without any advantages of figure, as he was neither tall nor graceful; but the beauty of his head and features compensated for ELIZABETH, COUNTESS OF CHESTERFIELD. THE COUNTESS OF CHESTERFIELD. 91 other deficiencies. He was accomplished and intelligent, skilled in riding, fencing, dancing, aiid in all the exercises then thought necessary to form a complete gentleman; he was courteous to his inferiors, but haughty and ceremonious in the society of his equals. A temper, naturally inclined to jealousy and suspicion, had not been amended by a long residence in Italy: the profligacy which there prevailed universally, had subverted his own principles, and implanted in his mind certain prejudices and opinions, very derogatory to women in general. His young bride, on the contrary, had been educated in the bosom of domestic happiness; she came to him fresh from the tuition and example of an amiable and dignified mother, and she appears at first to have regarded her husband with a timid and fond admiration, which a little attention and devotion on his part, would have converted into an attachment for life. Whether he had left some Italian love beyond the Alps, or had already begun to devote himself to Lady Castlemaine, whose first and most favoured lover he is said to have been, cannot now be known. It is only certain, that he met the affection of his young and charming wife with a negligent, frigid indifference, which astonished, pained, and humiliated her: finding, however, that all her tenderness was lavished in vain, and that her attempts to win him from a rival rather increased than diminished his aversion, mingled pique and disgust seem to have succeeded to her first affection and admiration, and their conjugal arrangements were in this melancholy and unsettled state when the Restoration took place, and Lady Chesterfield accompanied her husband and her family to England. The Duchess of Ormond was not an indifferent spectator of her daughter's domestic misery. It appears, from a very respectful and submissive letter from the earl to his mother-in-law, that she had interfered kindly but discreetly, with a hope of healing all disquiet. To reconcile himself with his wife's parents, Lord Chesterfield took her to Ireland in 1662; they spent three months at Kilkenny Castle, and there Lady Chesterfield witnessed the marriage of her sister, Lady Mary Butler, with Lord Cavendish, afterwards the first Duke of Devonshire. The King hated Chesterfield, on account of the favour with which Lady Castlemaine had regarded him; but the earl had claims on the royal attention which could not be overlooked. On the arrival of Catherine of Braganza, he was created chamberlain of her household, and in virtue of his office was lodged in Whitehall. Thus thrown into the very midst of a gay court, Lady Chesterfield, from a neglected wife, living in privacy, and even poverty, became suddenly a reigning beauty: captivating and piquante, rather than regularly handsome, there was something in the archness and brilliance of her wit, in the elegance of her small, but perfect figure, and in the exquisite neatness of her person and dress, which distinguished her from the half-attired, languishing, flaunting beauties around her. Only Miss Hamilton rivalled her in vivacity and mental acquirements, and only Miss Stewart surpassed her in charms. She was immediately surrounded with professed adorers; and strange to tell, one of the first who sighed for her in vain was her own husband. Lord Chesterfield found his charming wife universally admired, while the vulgarity and arrogance of Lady Castlemaine became every day more apparent and more intolerable from the force of contrast:. he began to wonder, and with reason, at his own blindness and indifference to so many charms, and his passion at length rose to such a height, that, casting aside the fear of ridicule, he endeavoured to convince her, by the most public attentions, that his feelings towards her were entirely changed. Unfortunately, it was now too late: the heart he had wounded, chilled, and rejected, either could not, or would 92 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II. not be recalled; he found himself slighted in his turn, and treated with the most provoking and the most determined coldness. A spirit of coquetry, a dangerous love of general admiration, and all the intoxication of gratified vanity, now filled that bosom which had come to him pure, warm, and innocent, and which he had once occupied to exclusion of almost every other thought and feeling: the punishment was cruel, but scarce more than he deserved. Finding that all his advances were repelled, he was seized with jealousy and rage; he felt assured that a transition so complete, from extreme tenderness and trembling solicitude to the most perfect indifference, could only be caused by some favoured lover, and his suspicions fixed at once on the Duke of York,�not without apparent reason, for the duke's admiration of his wife had been very unequivocally displayed. But a more dangerous rival, wholly unsuspected, existed in George Hamilton, the younger brother of Miss Hamilton, and first cousin to Lady Chesterfield. Hamilton, either out of contradiction, or etourderie, had been amusing himself and alarming all his friends, by offering his assiduities to Lady Castlemaine, then in the height of her favour and her power. But Lady Chesterfield, having in a manner opposed herself with peculiar and feminine spite to the woman who had withdrawn her husband?s affections from her in the first year of her marriage, and whom she every way detested, was not content with the legitimate triumph of winning back her husband from her trammels, she resolved to deprive Lady Castlemaine of her new admirer, and to add George Hamilton to her own train of adorers. This laudable resolve was not very difficult to execute, for Hamilton was the most inflammable of men; he was only 4C le petit cousin," and she had constant opportunities of meeting him, either in the society of his sister, or at the apartments of his aunt, the Duchess of Ormond. He could not see with impunity one of the loveliest women of the time: he began to waver in his allegiance to Lady Castlemaine, and while he yet hesitated, one or two encouraging glances from the blue eyes of Lady Chesterfield brought him at once to her feet. We should not forget, while reading De Grammont's Memoirs, that they were written by the brother of George Hamilton, who considered himself as a betrayed and injured lover, and whose account of Lady Chesterfield's conduct was likely to be coloured by his own exasperated feelings: notwithstanding the conspicuous figure she makes in those Memoirs, and the malicious gaiety with which her coquetry and her indiscretion are exposed, I can find no direct accusation against her virtue either there or elsewhere. Pepys, who was likely to hear all the scandal of the court, mentions her ever with respect, as " that most virtuous lady;"1 yet he never speaks of her husband without some slighting expression or discreditable allusion. In the present case, Lord Chesterfield had placed himself beyond the pale of sympathy; his former treatment of his wife was so well known at court, that his jealous airs exposed him to universal ridicule. At this time it happened that the guitar-player Francisco, (mentioned in the Introduction,) had rendered that instrument so much the fashion, that all the beauties and courtiers affected to- cultivate it with enthusiasm; and in the midst of this universal raclerie. Lady Chesterfield was as proud of possessing the finest guitar in England, as her brother, Lord Arran, of being confessedly the best player next to Francisco himself. The Guitarist had composed a certain sarabande, which the King greatly admired and patronized; and very soon nothing but this sarabande was heard at court* The Duke of York wished to learn it from Lord Arran; and he, being resolved to give the sarabande every possible advan- 1 Pepys' "Diary," vol. i. pp. 177-194. THE COUNTESS OF CHESTERFIELD. 93 tage, invited the duke to accompany him to his sister's apartments, that he might hear it performed on this wonderful guitar, which was the envy of all the fair amateur players in the court. In all this there was nothing extraordinary; but Lord Chesterfield, possessed by jealousy and suspicion, saw in this rendezvous nothing less than a scheme to accomplish his dishonour. While the two musicians were practising the sarabande, and Lady Chesterfield did the honours of her celebrated guitar, her husband sat watching the trio with "jealous leer malign,'' and internally resolving that nothing should induce him to leave the room ; but in the midst of these agreeable reflections, an order arrived from the Queen to attend her majesty immediately in his quality of Lord Chamberlain, for the purpose of introducing the Muscovite ambassadors to her presence. The unhappy earl, execrating in his secret soul all guitars, ambassadors and officious brothers-in-law, was under the necessity of obeying the royal commands, and had not been ten minutes in the Queen's presence-chamber, when, to his confusion and dismay, he beheld the Earl of Arran standing opposite to him, and unaccompanied by the Duke of York. The moment he was released, he hastened home, and without waiting for any explanation, gave way at once to all the transports of jealous rage. The poor guitar was the first victim of his fury; it was broken into ten thousand pieces.. After this exploit the first person he met on leaving his house was George Hamilton, upon whom his suspicions had never rested for a moment; in fact^ it had been Hamilton's study to persuade him that all his assiduities were directed to Lady Castlemaine. To him, therefore, he confided his griefs; exaggerating the coquetry of his wife, the attentions of the duke, and the intermeddling of Lord Arran. He related at length the curious scene of the has verts, when the fair Stewart, in presence of the whole court, suffered her beautiful ankle to be produced, in emulation of that of Lady Chesterfield : while the Duke of York stood aloof, refusing to admire, and declaring, with many a gallant oath, that there was " point de salut sans les bas verts." Now, as Lady Chesterfield had introduced this fashion, her husband conceived that the duke's speech could admit of but one interpretation:�Othello's handkerchief was not more conclusive. Hamilton began to think so too, and to take a more than friendly interest in the subject; and Chesterfield, imputing his indignation to a disinterested sympathy with his own wrongs, continued to pour his complaints into his ear, till Hamilton was driven to desperation. He began to suspect that Lady Chesterfield was merely trifling with him,�a supposition which, considering her character, was not improbable; and he was convinced that the Duke of York was a preferred lover, which assuredly was not a necessary consequence. In a fit of angry impatience, he advised Lord Chesterfield to carry his wife off to his country-seat. The poor countess was immediately conveyed down to Bretby by her infuriated husband, and Hamilton for awhile triumphed in his vengeance.1 The whole of the circumstances soon became public; the lady was generally pitied, 1 This story, which is related at length in the Memoirs of De Grammont with infinite grace and liveliness, but in a tone very unfavourable to Lady Chesterfield, is thus, with more brevity, and probably,with more truth, narrated by honest Mr. Pepys, in his Diary. " This day, by Dr. Clarke, I was told the occasion of my Lord Chesterfield's going and taking his lady (my Lord Ormond's daughter) from court. It seems he not only hath been jealous of the Duke of York, but did find them two talking together, though there were others in the room, and the lady, by all opinions, a most good, virtuous woman. He the next day (of which the duke was warned by somebody that saw the passion my Lord Chesterfield was in the night before) went and told the duke how much he did apprehend himself wronged, in his picking out his lady in the whole court to be the subject of his dishonour; which the duke did answer with great calmness, not seeming to understand the reason of complaint; and that was all that passed: but my lord did presently pack his lady into the country in Derbyshire, near the Peake; which is become a proverb at court, to send a man's wife to the Peake when she vexes him."�P. 194. M 94 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II. and none believed that her husband had any just cause for the tyranny he had exercised on this occasion. Dorset, Etheredge, Rochester, and all the rhyming wits of the court, pursued Lord Chesterfield with showers of epigrams. The famous sarabande, which had been the first occasion of this terrible fracas, was set by the Chevalier de Grammont to new words, bitterly reflecting on the conduct of this "mari loup-garou," and soon the whole court had them by heart; they were sung universally, and, (as Count Hamilton gravely adds,) " toutes les dames les voulurent avoir pour les apprendre a leurs enfants." Lady Chesterfield never again appeared at court; and learning to whom she was really indebted for the severity exercised towards her (the justice of which she was far from admitting,) she vowed vengeance against George Hamilton, and forthwith proceeded to execute her purpose with all the cunning of an intriguante, and all a woman's wit and wilfulness. She penned a long and artful letter to Hamilton, gave him a most eloquent and heart-rending description of her miserable state, of the melancholy prison, surrounded by rocks, precipices, and morasses, in which she was confined; of the ruthless tyranny of her husband, now her gaoler, and of her own repentance. She informed him that the earl was under the necessity of leaving home for a week, and conjured him to seize that opportunity to visit her, and listen to her justification. Hamilton, already devoured by regrets for her absence, and remorse for his own share in causing it, received this insidious letter with transport, and fell at once into the snare. He immediately mounted his horse, and rode post down to Bretby. It was towards the close of a severe winter, and a hard frost prevailed. He passed a whole night under the windows of Bretby Hall, almost congealed with cold, without receiving the least sign of recognition or compassion. On returning to the little village inn where he was lodged incognito, he learned that Lord Chesterfield was not absent�nor likely to be so; and on looking round him he beheld, instead of a prison a splendid palace; and instead of a horrible solitude, a magnificent and cultivated domain, which, till a recent possessor levelled its fine woods, was considered one of the most beautiful seats in England. He perceived how grossly he had been beguiled? and soon discovered that he was only the propitiatory victim in the reconciliation which had just taken place between the countess and her husband. On his return to London he would willingly have suppressed the story of this luckless expedition, but Lady Chesterfield was not inclined to make a mystery of the revenge she had taken on her rash and too officious lover: the story reached the King's ears, and he insisted upon learning the details from Hamilton himself, who was called upon to relate his own ridiculous adventure in presence of the whole court; so that the lady's vengeance was in every respect complete, and, perhaps, not unmerited. Lady Chesterfield's retirement (or banishment) took place in 1662; about a year afterwards she gave birth to a daughter, and thenceforward her time was spent entirely at Bretby, if not happily, at least irreproachably. She died in 1665, before she had completed her twenty-fifth year. Her infant daughter, Lady Elizabeth Stanhope, was educated by her grandmother, the excellent Duchess of Ormond, and afterwards married John Lyon, fourth Earl of Strathmore. After the premature death of his beautiful and unhappy wife, Lord Chesterfield married Lady Elizabeth Dormer, and died in 1713, at the age of eighty. There is a tradition relating to the death of Lady Chesterfield, which cannot be passed without remark, as it is to be met with in many works, and is even alluded to by Horace Walpole. It is said that her husband, having caused her to take the sacrament upon her innocence respecting any intimacy with the Duke of York, bribed his chaplain to THE COUNTESS OF CHESTERFIELD. 95 put poison into the sacramental cup, and that she died in consequence. This horrible accusation rests upon no proof whatever; it is only certain that it was current during the life of the earl, and even believed by some of his own family. Lord Chesterfield's son by his third wife, married Lady Gertrude Saville, daughter of the Marquis of Halifax. The marquis and the old Earl of Chesterfield quarrelled, and the latter obliged Lord Stanhope to bring his wife to Lichfield, breaking off all intercourse between the families. Lady Stanhope had always on her toilette her father's work, " Advice to a Daughter." Her father-in law took it up one day, and wrote on the title-page, u Labour in vain." On her side the lady, not to be outdone in impertinence, made her servant, out of livery, carry in his pocket a bottle of wine, another of water, and a gold cup; and whenever she dined or supped in company with her father-in-law, either at home or abroad, she never would drink but of those liquors from her servant's hand. It was a hint to the earl and the company present, that the crime which his lordship was suspected of having perpetrated by a sacred beverage, was full in the recollection of his daughter-in-law. The most surprising part of the story is, that the old earl endured this. In the correspondence of this Earl of Chesterfield recently published, there are two letters to the countess in a tone more polite and sententious than affectionate. It appears certain that he never succeeded in winning back her tenderness; and he has recorded her death in his memorandum-book, without a single remark or expression of regret. The portrait is engraved, for the first time, after the beautiful picture by Lely, in the possession of Mr. Fountaine, of Narford. It is the same which is mentioned by Granger, and which was copied in crayons for Horace Walpole. Its authenticity is beyond a doubt. [The following letter was written by the Duke of Ormond to his sister the Countess of Clancarty, on occasion of the death of his daughter Lady Chesterfield. " Moobe Paek, July 22, 1665. " My dear Sister, u Nothing could give me greater assistance against the increase of misfortune by the death of my daughter Chesterfield, than to find you bear your affliction with so much constancy. It is certain that as we are born to die, that the longer we live, the more of these trials we must be subject to. The separation of friends and relations has been, and must be so frequent, that the expressions of consolating and compassionating are a road as much beaten as that of death, in which all mankind are appointed to travel. And as on other ways, so on that, some go faster than others; but he that goes slowest is sure to come to his journey's end. God of his mercy prepare us for, and prepare for us, a good reception. u The letters which should have been sent, I now send you; if there be any thing else that may add comfort to you within my power, it will as certainly arrive to you, when it is known to, " My dearest Sister, " Your most affectionate Brother and Servant, " Ormonde." The following letter from Elizabeth Lady Chesterfield, which may be either the earl's second or third wife, preserved in the British Museum, contains an allusion to the banish- 96 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II. ment of our heroine to the Peake. It is addressed to " Mrs. Coollpeper, at her house next dore to the Arche in Lincons inne feilds, London." " Nov. 9. 44 Deare Mrs. Coollpeper, 44 My women, as allsoe your letters, doe me the favour to tell me I am so happie to be in your thoughts, which I am extreme proud of, and I must still beg the continuence of it, and that I may sometimes at your best leasure heare from you, you will be obliging if you please to descant me with a little news from your world. You know Darbysher is a dull place, and needs some thing to make it pleasint. I will assure you I knowjiothing will please me better than hearing from you, writ whatever you will. I suppose my Lady Dencell's discretion will lett her be a little decent this winter. Pray God she be not con-demnd to Darbysher at last for ever, as sume body was about ten or twelf yeare agoe,1 for that pockie gallant's mistress have that ill for them if they doe not behave themselves wisely, they are packed out of their heaven London. I am glad to heare my Lady Fresch-well is coming to towne, because pore Moll may have somebody to hang upon besids ye weake La. Northumberland. I am obliged to you for wishing me at London this winter, though I shall be more desirous of it next, for now theare are none of being theare except your good selfe. I know not whether the Grand Passer is a lover of me or noe now, haveing not sine him a long time, I thinke it is no greate mater whether he be or noe, if I am not hated by you, I will be soe contented with that good fortten, that noe other things shall trouble 44 Your affect, humble servant, 44 E. Chestekeield. 44 Pray pardon a thoussand blotts here, for I am so neare my time that I am ill at ease, and cannot mend my faults now." Macky observes of Philip Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield, that 44 he was very subtle and cunning, never entered into the measures of King William, nor ever did make any great appearance in any other reign." On which Dean Swift says, 44 If it be old Chesterfield, I have heard he was the greatest knave in England."�Ed.] 1 There is no date to this letter, and by the words ' i ten or twelf yeare agoe/' it may probably be written by the Earl of Chesterfield's third wife, Lady Elizabeth Dormer, eldest daughter and co-heiress to Charles Earl of Caernarvon. She died in 1679. HENRIETTA, COUNTESS OF ROCHESTER 'AUnUnUnUr%UfSU^U>' w THE COUNTESS OF ROCHESTER. " Sucli her beauty, as no arts Have enrich'd with borrowed grace ; Her high birth no pride imparts, For she blushes in her place. Folly boasts a glorious blood ;� She is noblest, being good." Habingtoist. ADY HENRIETTA BOYLE, Countess of Rochester, was the youngest daughter of Richard second Earl of Cork, and first Earl of Burlington. Her mother was the Lady Elizabeth, sole daughter and heiress of Henry Clifford, Earl of Cumberland. Thus she was the grand-daughter of that extraordinary man known in history as the great Earl of Cork, who went to Ireland a needy adventurer in the reign of Elizabeth, and lived to see himself and five of his sons peers of England or of Ireland: by the mother's side she was descended from one of the proudest, most illustrious, and most powerful families among the old feudal aristocracy of England, �the Cliffords of Cumberland. The Earl of Burlington, (for he was generally distinguished by his English title,) had been a firm Loyalist; and at the Restoration, to which he mainly contributed, he found himself high in favour at court, to which his four daughters were immediately introduced. The eldest became Countess of Thanet, the second married the celebrated Earl of Roscommon, the third became the wife of Lord Hinchinbroke, afterwards Earl of Sandwich. The youngest, who was also the most beautiful, was sought in marriage by Laurence Hyde, the second son of Lord Chancellor Clarendon. The marriage of Anne Hyde with the Duke of York, the power and talents of the great Chancellor, then at the height of favour, gave to the whole family of the Hydes a degree of importance and influence at court, which was increased by the connexions they formed with the first and oldest nobility; for who would have rejected an alliance which had not been disdained by the first prince of the blood? Henry Hyde, the eldest son of the Chancellor, and afterwards Lord Cornbury, had fixed his affections on Theodosia Capel, the daughter of Arthur Lord Capel, and she became the " Madame Hyde" of De Grammont's Memoirs. Mrs. Hyde was naturally witty and lively, but from a strange sort of affectation, she fancied she should succeed better as a languishing than as a sparkling beauty: accordingly she changed her airy and swimming grace into a mincing gait, modulated her voice to the most approved drawl, and veiled her brilliant eyes so successfully, that the 98 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II. sleepy elongated eyelid thenceforth became the fashion of the court. Her sister-in-law, Lady Henrietta Hyde, was by nature what Mrs. Hyde became by fashion and affectation; she was a blonde of the most delicate description, with a profusion of fair hair, and a complexion transparently pink and white, like the Alpine berry shining through the new-fallen snow: her manners were as gentle and blameless as her face was beautiful. She was married to Laurence Hyde about the year 1663, and the utter dissimilarity between herself and her husband in character and temper, was, perhaps, the foundation of their domestic happiness. Laurence Hyde was a man of great natural talent, improved by a careful education under the eye of his father, who had early initiated him into business, and intended him for the diplomatic service. He was handsome, with a good figure, and a dark complexion: his temper was naturally violent, but while he governed his family imperiously, he seems to have possessed the power of inspiring those around him with love as well as fear. " I never knew a man," says Lord Dartmouth,1 "who was so soon put into a passion, that was so long before he could bring himself out of it, in which he would say things that were never forgot by any body but himself. He therefore had always more enemies than he thought, though he had as many professedly so as any man of his time." It might have been supposed that this warmth of temper, in which there was too much heat to be false,2 and the incumbrance of a beautiful wife, who was simple enough to be content with the admiration of her husband, and to nurse her own children, were ill calculated to raise the fortunes of a man in such a court as that of Charles the Second; but polished manners, great sagacity in affairs, and his near relationship to the throne during three successive reigns, served Lord Rochester in lieu of more complying virtues, and a more accommodating wife. Notwithstanding the impeachment, disgrace, and exile of his illustrious father, which followed within a few years after his marriage with Lady Henrietta, we find Laurence Hyde, supported by his own talents and the friendship of the Duke of York, running a prosperous career. He was ambassador to John Sobieski, King of Poland in 1676, and afterwards envoy to Holland; he was First Lord of the Treasury in 1679, and in 1681 he was created a peer by the title of Viscount Hyde of Kenilworth; and in 1683, the earldom of Rochester, becoming extinct in the Wilmot family,3 was conferred upon him. On the accession of James the Second he received the staff of High Treasurer, and was for some time considered as the chief favourite of the King, and at the head of all affairs. It is perhaps the highest eulogium that could be pronounced on the character and conduct of his fair, gentle-looking, and really amiable wife, that while her husband was treading the steep and tortuous paths of court diplomacy, rising to rank and honours, and filling the highest offices in the state, we do not even hear of her, except in her domestic" relations. In the recent publication of the Clarendon Papers,4 Lady Rochester is seldom mentioned: but from the manner in which she is alluded to, we may infer, without danger of being mistaken, that she was the excellent and submissive wife qf an impatient and despotic husband; that she lived in the utmost harmony with her children and her relatives ; that she frequented the court but little ; that, without possessing any striking qualities, she inspired those who were allied to her with equal respect and affection; and 1 In a note upon " Burnet's History." 2 " Burnet's History." 3 By the death of John Wilmot, only son of the famous, or rather notorious, Earl of Bochester. 4 The Correspondence of Henry Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, and his brother Laurence Hyde, Earl of Bochester, edited from the original MSS. THE COUNTESS OF ROCHESTER. 99 that her health was so delicate and precarious, as to be a subject of constant solicitude to those who loved her.1 This is all we can gather from contemporary authorities. It should seem that her days flowed along in one even course of unpretending duties and blameless pleasures; duties such as her sex and station prescribed, pleasures such as her rank and fortune permitted,�interrupted and clouded by such cares and infirmities as are the common lot of mortality.1 This description of Lady Eochester may appear a little insipid after the piquante adventures of a Cleveland and a Chesterfield, and others of her more brilliant and interesting contemporaries; yet there is in its repose and innocence something that not only refreshes, but sweetens the imagination. As in a garden, where peonies, and pinks, and carnations, and tall lilies, " And canker blooms, with full as deep a die, As the perfumed tincture of the roses/' flaunt to the eye and allure the sense, should we suddenly find a jasmine trailing its light tendrils and luxuriant foliage round a lordly elm, with what delight should we appropriate its starry, unsullied blossoms, and place them in our bosom! During the first years of her marriage, Lady Rochester became the mother of two sons and four daughters; of these, her eldest daughter, Lady Anne Hyde, was by far the most interesting, and appears to have been the favourite of her father and mother. In 1682, they married her to the young Earl of Ossory, the grandson of the great Duke of Ormond. Very early marriages were then customary: Lord Ossory was not more than nineteen, his bride not quite fifteen, when they were united. She was beautiful, innocent, and affectionate,2 but unhappily inherited her mother's delicacy of constitution; we find her praised and admired for her early wit, sense, and vivacity, nor is it any argument against the truth of this praise, that she should be subject to superstitious terrors, and a believer in dreams and divinations, in days when philosophers studied alchymy and astrology. Lady Ossory was married too young, and her sensitive, imaginative disposition seems to have preyed on her health. She died from the consequences of a second and premature confinement, at the age of eighteen.3 1 Thus, to give one instance from a letter of Lord Clarendon to his brother Lord Rochester: " God Almighty preserve you and my sister, and all yours. I am very much afraid lest this change should make impression on my sister's tender health; but she has seen such variety of changes in our poor family, that I doubt not her wisdom and resolution, if her strength do not fail her."�Vol. ii. p. 133. 2 In the Clarendon Correspondence are two short letters, which Lady Ossory addressed to her father, about two years after her marriage. Her father, it seems, had written to her with some asperity,�perhaps under the influence of one of those moods of temper to which he was subject; and the earnest tenderness and humility with which she deprecates his anger, and professes her entire obedience, are very touching: they give us a high idea of the parental power as it was exercised in those days. 3 Her death took place at Dublin Castle, January 25, 1685. Some fancies might possibly contribute to this calamity; for the young lady was impressed with the common superstitious notion, as to thirteen people sitting at table. A short time previous to her death, Dr. John Hough, (afterwards Bishop of Worcester,) was going to sit down, when, perceiving that he made the thirteenth, he stopped short and declined taking his place. She immediately guessed at his reason, and said, " Sit down, Doctor, it is now too late; it is the same thing, if you sit or go away." He believed that the circumstance affected her, as she was in very indifferent health, and had been subject for some time to hysterical fainting fits. The poor lady's imagination seems to have been peculiarly susceptible of such impressions, for another story is related, that may perhaps have accelerated the fatal event. Upon the death of the Countess of Kildare, Lady Ossory, being then only seventeen, dreamed that some one came and knocked at her chamber-door; and that calling to her servant to see who was there, and nobody answering, she went to the door herself, and opening it, saw a lady muffled up in a hood, who drawing it aside, she saw it was the Lady Kildare. Upon this she cried out, " Sister, is it you ? what makes you come in this manner?"�" Don't be frightened," replied she, " for I come on a very serious affair ; and it is to tell you that you will die very soon." Such was her dream as she related it herself to Dr. Hough. 100 COURT BEAUTIES-CHARLES II To die young, innocent, and beloved, is not a misfortune ; it is to die half an angel:� " Our great good parts put wings unto our souls That waft them up to Heaven." The old Duke of Ormond lamented her honestly and feelingly j1 her young husband more acutely, but he was soon consoled.2 The blow fell heaviest upon her parents;�it seems to have struck her poor mother to the earth. Among the papers of Lord Rochester, one was found containing meditations on the anniversary of his daughter's death: on recalling his own sensations, he dwells with a kind of painful astonishment on the remembrance, that during a whole week which elapsed between the death of Lady Ossory and the arrival, " by reports, by messengers, by condoling friends, of the dreadful sound of that shot, which was fired a week before;"�during this interval he had been occupied in the cares, business, and pleasures of life, and no internal voice had whispered to him or to the mother, that she, the beloved one, who had derived her being from them, who was, as it were, a part of their very existence, lay senseless and dead, and the life that was the joy of theirs had departed from the world in which they breathed, insensible, unconscious of the stroke. How many have felt this before and since! " It pleased God/7 says the bereaved father, " to take her away, as it might be on this day, and I lived on, almost a week longer, deceived in my vain expectations that I should hear better of her, and that the worst was past; till here comes the dismal news, a week after the blow was given! a week's time I had spent, after her lying cold and breathless, in the ordinary exercises of my life;�nay, I think I had wrote from hence to her after the time she was dead, with the hopes that my letter should find her better; with expressions of tenderness for the sickness she had endured; of wishes for her recovery; of hopes of being in a short time happy in her company; of joy and comfort to myself, in being designed to go to live again in the same place with her:�I say I had written all this:�to whom? to my poor dead child! Oh, sad and senseless condition of human life!" This speaks to the heart, for it is the language of the heart. He goes on to express his grief when the calamity was made known to him, and adds, " In the midst of this I had my wife lying weak and worn with long and continual sickness, and now, as it were,, knocked quite on the head with this cruel blow;�a wife for whom I had all the tenderness imaginable; with whom I had lived long and happily, and had reason to be well pleased; whose fainting heart and weak spirits I was to comfort and keep up when I had none myself!" This tender allusion to Lady Rochester shows how much she must have suffered on this occasion; and the simple and unobtrusive testimony to her merit, still existing in the hand-writing of her husband, is worth more than twenty sonnets in her praise, though Waller himself had penned them. But Lord Rochester had little time for the indulgence of his own feelings, or for the consolation of others; while yet, a& he expresses it, drowned in sorrow for the loss of his 1 The Duke of Ormond, in a letter to Sir R. Southwell, says, " I was in great perplexity for the sickness of the young lady I brought a stranger with me into this country, which it hath pleased God to put an end to in her death. I am not courtier, that is dissembler enough, to equal hers with other losses I have sustained of the like kind ; but I assure you, her kindness and observance of me, 'and her conduct in general, hath gained very much upon my affections, and promised so much satisfaction in her, that I am extremely sensible of her loss." 2 Lord Ossory, about a year after the death of his first wife, married Lady Mary Somerset.�Vide "Memoir of Lady Ossory/' p. 134. THE COUNTESS OF ROCHESTER 101 best child, he was hurried to attend on the spectacle of a dying monarch,�Charles the Second. Soon afterwards he was raised, by the friendship of his successor, to a more eminent and splendid station than he had yet enjoyed, and plunged into all the turmoil of politics. Lady Rochester was amongst those most distinguished by the new Queen,� the beautiful and amiable Maria of Modena. Burnet mentions a visit which the Queen paid to. Lady Rochester when confined to a sick room: at the time of this visit rumours were afloat that James had tampered with L$rd Rochester on the subject of religion; and it was said, that as the earl was found contumacious (that is, conscientious) upon this point, the staff of Lord High Treasurer would be taken from him. Lady Rochester, it is said, attempted to deprecate this intention, and the Queen said, u that all the Protestants were turning against them, so that they knew not how they could trust any of them." To which Lady Rochester replied, " that her lord was not so wedded to any opinion, as not to be ready to be better instructed." Lady Rochester had never before meddled with politics, and this first attempt* was not successful; nor, it must be owned, much to her credit: it is right to add, that it rests on very suspicious evidence�that of an enemy. Towards the end of the year 1686, Lady Rochester, after a long interval, gave birth to a fifth daughter, and survived her confinement only a few months: she died at Bath, whither her husband had taken her for the benefit of her health, on the 12th of April, 1687: she was in her forty-second year. The Earl of Rochester, after acting a conspicuous part in the great events of the Revolution, and the angry politics of Queen Anne's reign, died in the year 1712. Lady Rochester left five children. Her eldest son, Henry Lord Hyde, succeeded to his father's title, and eventually to that of Clarendon.1 He married the daughter of Sir William Leveson Gower, herself a celebrated beauty, and the mother of a beauty far more celebrated,�of Lady Catherine Hyde, afterwards that Duchess of Queensbury upon whom Pope and Prior have conferred an immortahty more lasting than the pencil of Lely or of Kneller could bestow on her mother and grandmother. Richard Hyde, the second son of Lady Rochester, died young on his passage to the West Indies. Her eldest surviving daughter, Lady Henrietta, married James Earl of Dalkeith, son of the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth, and ancestor of the Duke of Buccleuch. Lady Mary Hyde married Lord Conway, ancestor of the Marquess of Hertford. Lady Catherine, who was Maid of Honour to Queen Anne, died unmarried. The picture from which the portrait is engraved, hangs in the Beauty Room at Windsor. It was traditionally supposed to represent the wife of Wilmot, the witty and profligate Earl of Rochester,�who, though an heiress,2 was no beauty; au contraire,�till Horace Walpole and Granger >set the matter right. It is a delicate and pleasing, but not a striking picture; the face is soft and beautiful, without any expression, and accords with the gentle and lady-like character of the original: the back-ground is well painted. The drapery, which is of the palest blue, harmonizing with the extreme delicacy of the complexion, is rather more decorous, and not less inexplicable, than Lely's draperies usually are. [Laurence Hyde, Earl of Rochester, was second son to the Lord Chancellor Clarendon, and was a nobleman that had had all the improvement of education and experience, with a 1 The present Earl of Clarendon is descended from Lady Kochester in the female line. 2 " La triste Heritiere " of De Grammont; she was Miss Mallet of Enmere. N 102 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II good capacity. He was, when very young, employed by King Charles the Second in foreign negotiations; and was, by King James the Second, made Lord High Treasurer of England, knight of the Garter, and created Earl of Rochester. He opposed King William's coming to the throne, and generally thwarted the measures of the court; till the King, to gain him and his party in opposition to France, upon the breach of the Partition treaty, made him Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, and a member of the cabinet; but, contrary to all expectations, he was thrown out again, yet had always a very considerable pension during that King's reign. On Queen Anne's accession he was again made Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, which he soon quitted; and not being made Lord High Treasurer, which he expected, he was so disgusted, as to come no more to court. f He was easily wound up to a passion, which is the reason why he so often lost himself in the debates of the House of Peers; and the opposite party knew so well how to attack him, as to make his great stock of knowledge fail him. He was, notwithstanding, one of the finest men in England for interest, especially the church party, and was very zealous for his friends. He was of a middle stature, well shaped, and of a brown complexion. In the year 1684 the Earl of Rochester was nominated Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland in the room of the Duke of Ormond; but that appointment determining with the death of his majesty, the white staff was again put into the Earl of Rochester's hands by King James II. When he was Lord Treasurer in the reign of James the Second, he checked as much as possible the lavish expenditure of the court; and it is said that he complained to the King of the extravagance of the Princess of Denmark (afterwards Queen Anne); and that -when James recommended her to be in future more economical, her friend Lady Churchill, afterwards the celebrated Sarah Duchess of Marlborough, exclaimed, u Ah, Madame, this is the advice of your uncle, old Rochester!" This is an anecdote which speaks much in his praise. He was never popular with any party, and by his own he appears to have been a nobleman more respected and feared than loved. Among the original correspondence of the great Duke of Ormond, now in the possession of Mr. Colburn, are two letters from the Earl of Rochester; one to the Duke of Ormond, the other to the Duke of Beaufort, on the second marriage of the young Earl of Ossory, which seems to have followed the death of his first wife much sooner than Mrs. Jameson has stated. As neither have been printed, we are tempted to give the first. To the Duke of Ormond, then at Bodminton. � Whitehall, July 31, 1685. " Though it be not long since I waited on your Grace, and that I hope wee shall meet again very soone, I cannot omitt till then to tell you the part I take in the satisfaction I know your Grace must have, on seeing my Lord of Ossory soe well disposed off, and setled in the allyence of soe good and great a family. How tender soever this subject may be to me, you know my thoughts very early upon it, and I doe as heartily wish you and your family all happyness in this marryage as any man liveing can doe. I pray God make the continuance of it long, and give you health and strength to the same proportion you now enjoy, to make your grand-children the more happy. It is what I always wished for, and what I shall always endeavour to contribute to, and will ever be, with the greatest truth and sincerity, " Your Grace's most faithfull, " and most obedient servant, " Rochester"�Ed.] ELIZABETH BAGOT, AFTERWARDS COUNTESS OF FALMOUTH AND OF DORSET. ELIZABETH BAGOT, AFTERWARDS COUNTESS OF FALMOUTH, AND COUNTESS OF DORSET. " So far as doth the daughter of the day All other lesser lights in light excel, So far doth she in beautiful array Above all other maidens bear the bell; No less in virtue that beseems her well, Doth she exceed the rest of all her race." Spenser. E know far too little of Miss Bagot, since all that can be known of her only excites a wish to know more. The lovely sketch of her in De Grammont's " Memoirs," the yet more beautiful and finished portrait which the pencil of Lely has bequeathed to us, are just sufficient to awaken a degree of admiration and interest, which the few particulars we can collect from other sources serve^rather to increase than to gratify. When, upon the restoration of the royal family, the clandestine union of the Duke of York and Anne Hyde was formally acknowledged by himself and sanctioned by the King, she was of course admitted to all the privileges and honours which belonged to her as first Princess of the Blood, and wife of the heir-presumptive.1 She was allowed a truly royal establishment; consisting of a Chamberlain, Master of Horse, the usual retinue of lords in waiting and pages; and, though last not least, four Maids of Honour: the choice of the latter being left entirely to herself. Her first selection, it should seem, was not either brilliant or fortunate. The four young ladies who formed her retinue were soon dispersed different ways; some married, and some'�as the Scotch say�" did worse.'' 1 Anne Hyde was married in 1659. Without the slightest pretensions to beauty, she had a presence so noble, and an air at once so gracious and so commanding, that Nature seems to have intended her for the rank she afterwards attained. On her elevation to the second dignity of the kingdom, she " took state upon her " as if accustomed to it from her cradle ; and, as Grammont observes, held out her hand to be kissed " avec autant de grandeur et de majeste, que si de sa vie elle n'eut fait autre chose." By her spirited conduct she obliged the Duke of York to acknowledge his marriage with her, contrary to his own intentions and the wishes of the King, and in defiance of the Queen-mother, who vowed in a rage, that whenever " that woman was brought into Whitehall by one door, she would go out of it by the other." Yet she was afterwards reconciled to the match, and acknowledged the duchess as her daughter. 104 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II. For example; there was that laughter-loving, frolic-seeking gipsy Miss Price, who was suspected, even before her appointment, of having forfeited all claims to the title, if not to the office, of Maid of Honour. She was soon dismissed: the very mal-a-propos death of a lover having brought to light a certain casket of billets doux, all in the handwriting of the fair Price, and the duchess having unluckily and inadvertently read aloud the two first before witnesses, found herself under the necessity of burning the remainder; and for the sake of example, and as a warning to all young ladies in the same predicament not to be found out in future, Miss Price was ordered to go and weep her lover elsewhere than in the royal ante-chamber. In spite of this dismissal, Miss Price appears to have maintained her ground in society, since we frequently hear of her afterwards; and her unscrupulous good-nature, vivacity, and knowledge of the world, rendered her a favourite at court. The next was Miss Hobart, with whose name scandal was more malignantly busy, though not so loud. She was not handsome, but she had talents, and a turn for mischievous intrigue, which raised her up some bitter enemies. The duchess, who esteemed her, and was far too reasonable and good-natured to listen to the slanders she could not silence, removed Miss Hobart from her post of Maid of Honour, and placed her immediately about Jier own person, and under her own protection, as her woman of the bedchamber. The third of these damsels was Henrietta Maria Blagg;1 "La Blague aux blo7ide pan-pieres" of De Grammont's Memoirs. She was the same to whom Miss Hamilton, in the spirit of mischievous frolic, sent the gants de Martial and the lemon-coloured ribbons, in order to set off to more advantage the flaxen ringlets and fade complexion of this most fair, most insipid, and silly of coquettes. After figuring in her lemon-coloured coiffure at that famous court-ball which has already been described in the Memoirs of Miss Hamilton, and making two or three attempts to rival Miss Price,�-who carried off one of her lovers, and, at the wicked instigation of Miss Hamilton, did her best to carry off another,� Miss Blagg resigned her maiden office in the duchess's court, and it is to be hoped her coquetry also, and married Sir Thomas Yarborough, a Yorkshire baronet, as singularly fair as herself; to show the world, says Hamilton, " Ce que produirait une union si bla-farde." The fourth was Miss Bagot, the subject of the present Memoir, and the only one of the number who had any real pretensions to sense and beauty. Elizabeth Bagot was the daughter of Colonel Hervey Bagot, third son of Sir Hervey Bagot, Baronet, one of the ancestors of'the present Lord Bagot. Her mother, Dorothea Arden, of the Ardens of Park Hall, in "Warwickshire, died in 1649, leaving an only daughter, an infant. Colonel Bagot, soon after the death of his first wife, married � Elizabeth Eotheram, who made an affectionate and careful step-mother. The whole family of the Bagots had adhered to the party of Charles the First, and had suffered more or less in the royal cause. Colonel Hervey Bagot had particularly distinguished himself by his chivalrous loyalty, and his defence of Lichfield: these claims were not overlooked like those of many others. On the Restoration, he became one of the Gentlemen-pensioners of Charles the Second, and his daughter Elizabeth was appointed Maid of Honour to the Duchess of York. She had hitherto been brought up in retirement, but we have no particulars of her life 1 She was the daughter of Colonel Blagg, or Blague, of the county of Suffolk. Her sister, so often mentioned in Evelyn's " Memoirs," was a most amiable and accomplished woman, and afterwards the wife of the first Lord Godolphin. MISS BAGOT. 105 or education before she first appeared at court in 1661, and immediately fixed attention. Her beauty was the more striking, because it was of a style and character very unusual in England. She was a brunette, with fine regular features, black eyes, rather soft than sparkling, and a well-proportioned figure on a large scale: her dark but clear complexion was, upon the slightest emotion, suffused with crimson; so that, as Hamilton says so gracefully, " Elle rougissait de tout sans rien faire dont elle eut a rougir." So lovely a creature must have moved among her companions like a being of another sphere, and hardly required the fadeur of Miss Blagg, or the vulgarity of Miss Price, as foils to her superior charms. Charles Berkeley, Earl of Falmouth, after sighing awhile in vain for Miss Hamilton, turned to Miss Bagot, as the only one who could compete with her in beauty,�who was not so highly gifted in mind as to have a right to be fastidious,�who had not wit enough to make her lovers her jest,�and, with her soft dark eyes and varying blushes, did not look like one who could reduce a suitor to despair. Falmouth was young, brave, and handsome; he had been one of the faithful companions of the Duke of York in his exile, and by him introduced to the King: he soon became the declared favourite of both, and a sharer in all their profligate adventures. He had done everything in his power to prevent the acknowledgment of the duke's marriage with Anne Hyde, which he regarded as^ disgraceful to his patron: he even went so far as to traduce her infamously, but was afterwards obliged to retract the unmanly slander. This offence the duchess magnanimously forgave, but her father, Lord Clarendon, as bitterly avenged, by leaving us in his history a most odious picture of Berkeley, whom he describes as a ." young man of a dissolute life, and prone to all wickedness in the judgment of all sober men.......One in whom few men had ever seen any virtue or quality which they did not wish their best friends without."l But whatever might have been Lord Falmouth's vices and follies in the opinion of all sober men, it is not likely that he would be judged with severity in a court where he was all-powerful,�where profligacy, so far from being a fault, was a proof of loyalty if not of wit, and the received distinction of a real cavalier,�where neither by the King nor any one else apparently, except Miss Hamilton, "had he ever been denied what he asked, either for himself or others." It is no great imputation on Miss Bagot's sense or taste that she should be dazzled by the personal advantages of Lord Falmouth, and excuse or disbelieve many faults in one who was bent to please her, and who possessed so many powers of pleasing. We find, therefore, without surprise, that she soon exchanged the title of Maid of Honour for that of Countess of Falmouth. This marriage, which must have taken place about 1663, did not remove Lady Falmouth from the court she had previously adorned, but merely placed her in a more conspicuous and exalted rank; and for a year and a half she shone in that gay sphere, an object of admiration and envy. We have also reason to believe that she was, at this period of her life, a beloved and happy wife as well as a worshipped beauty; for whatever might be the faults of Lord Falmouth, his attachment to her must have been passionate and disinterested, since she had no portion, and there was scarce an unmarried woman of any rank or fortune that would have rejected his suit. Perpetual constancy, perhaps, had been too much to expect from a man of his temperament and morals; but he was not long enough her husband to forget to be her lover. Eich in all the gifts of nature and fortune, young and thoughtless in the gayest of courts, " round like the ring that made them one, the golden pleasures circled 1 Clarendon's " Life.1 106 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II without end"�that is, for a few short months, for so long did this eternity of happiness endure, and no longer. In 1665, Lord Falmouth, partly from a wish to distinguish himself, and partly from an attachment to the Duke of York, volunteered, with many other young noblemen and gentlemen, to serve on board the fleet in the first Dutch war. The engagement off Harwich, called in history the great sea-fight, being one of the most memorable of our naval victories, took place on the 3rd of June, 1665. The Earl of Falmouth, who was on board the "Royal Charles," the duke's ship, and standing close to his royal highness in the thick of the fight, was struck dead by a cannon-ball. The same shot killed Lord Muskerry and young Boyle, the son of the Earl of Burlington. The duke escaped, but was covered with the blood of his devoted friends. This great victory, like many others, had no permanent results, and was most dearly bought. It threw many of the first families of the kingdom into mourning: " But no sorrow," says Clarendon, " was equal�at least no sorrow so remarkable, as the King's was for the Earl of Falmouth. They who knew his majesty best, and had seen how unshaken he had stood in other very terrible assaults, were amazed at the floods of tears he shed upon this occasion;"1 and it is said that the Duke of York deemed the glory he had gained in this action, and even his own safety, dearly purchased by the loss of his young favourite. When princes mourn, they mourn in public; when widows mourn,�they sometimes mourn in public too; but Lady Falmouth does not appear to have done so, for we hear nothing of her grief. The best proof we have of the reality of her sorrow is, that her name does not appear in any of the contemporary memoranda for two or three years: during this time she seems to have lived retired from the court, or at least to have taken but little share in its amusements. Towards the end of the year 1667, there was a report that she was engaged to marry young Henry Jermyn, one of the heroes of De Grammont's " Memoirs;" but she escaped a union with this notorious coxcomb, and the next we hear of her is her marriage with the celebrated Earl of Dorset. The Earl, when only Lord Buckhurst, had jmssed a youth even more dissolute and extravagant than that of Lord Falmouth. Like him, he had volunteered in the sea-fight of 1665, and like him had distinguished himself by his light-hearted bravery; but in one respect more fortunate than his predecessor, he lived long enough to redeem his youthful extravagances, and instead of being remembered as a mere man of wit and pleasure, he has left a brilliant reputation as an accomplished gentleman, a patron of letters, the most honest and disinterested courtier, and most consistent statesman of that day. His marriage with the widow of Lord Falmouth could not have been one of interest, since she had no fortune but her pension from the King; and to have been the choice of such a man as the Earl of Dorset, when he must have been nearly forty and she herself upwards of thirty, is a fair argument that neither the beauty nor the reputation of the lady had been impaired during her long widowhood. The Countess of Dorset died in 1684, leaving no children by either of her husbands. After her death, Lord Dorset married Lady Mary Compton, daughter of the Earl of Northampton, a woman celebrated in her time for her virtue, beauty, and accomplishments. This portrait of Miss Bagot, which is now engraved for the first time, is from a picture by Lely, in the possession of Earl Spencer. It is one of the chief ornaments of the 1 " The King, it seems, is much troubled at the fate of Lord Falmouth: but T do not meet with any man else that so much as wishes him alive again, the world conceiving him a man of too much pleasure to do the King any good, or offer any good advice to him. But I hear of all hands he is confessed to have been a man of great honour, that did show it in this his going with the duke, the most that ever man did."�Pepys* Diary, vol. i. p. 344. MISS BAGOT. 107 splendid gallery at Althorpe, and certainly one of the finest of all Lely's female portraits. It is so full of expression and character, and coloured with such uncommon power and richness of effect, as to remind us of Vandyke. The landscape in the back-ground is particularly fine: the cannon-ball which she poises in her lap as though it were a feather, we must suppose to be merely metaphorical, and allusive to the death of her first husband. From the introduction of this emblem, the pensive air of the head, and the shade of sorrow which is thrown over the features, we may suppose this fine picture to have been painted in the interval between her first and second marriage. MRS. N O T T. OULD that this fair, sentimental, Madonna-like creature could speak, and tell us who and what she was! The pencil has immortalized a lovely face, tradition has preserved a name; and must we be satisfied with these? Is there no power in conjuration to make those ruby lips unclose and reveal all we long to know? Are they for ever silent? The soul that once inhabited there, that looked through these mild eyes, the heart that beat beneath that modest vest,�are they fled and cold? and of all the thoughts, the feelings, the hopes, the joys, the fears, the " hoard of unsunn'd griefs7' that once had their dwelling there, is this�this surface�where beauty yet lives " clothed in the rainbow tints of heaven," but mute, cold, impassive�-all that remains? Why should the vices of a Castlemaine, the frailties of a Nell Gwynn be remembered, and their evil manners live in brass, while the virtues which might have been opposed to them have been " written in water?" Is it not a pity that Fame, that daughter of the skies, should, in the profligate times of Charles, have caught something of the contagion around her, and, like other fair ladies, have laid aside her celestial attributes, to sink into the veriest scandal-loving gossip that ever haunted a card-table? When she put her trumpet to her mouth, at every blast a reputation fell; and the malignant echoes, instead of dying away in whispers, have been repeated from generation to generation. They who were a shame to their sex have been chronicled to all time; but she who was chaste as ice, " Or the white down of heaven, whose feathers play Upon the wings of a cold winter gale, Trembling with fear to touch th' impurer earth/' she whom Calumny spared, Fame neglected; a species of injustice, for which the said Dame renommee deserves to have her trumpet broken, and her wings stripped from her shoulders. But then, it may be asked, is not the praise that waits on feminine virtue far too delicate to be trusted to such a brazen vehicle? more fitted to the poet's lyre than the trumpet of fame ? And is it not better, while gazing on that beautiful face, which looks all innocence, to lose ourselves in delightful fancies and possibilities which none can disprove, rather than trace the brand of vulgar scandal on that brow,�scandal which we cannot refute,�nor those soft, sealed lips repel? Is it not better to admire we know not who, than turn away with disgust, as we do from the portraits of a Shrewsbury or a MRS.' NOTT, ONE OF QUEEN CATHERINE'S MAIDS OF HONOUR. MRS. NOTT. 109 Southesk, whose beauty shocks us like the colours of an adder? This fair creature, with her veil, and her book and her flowers, and the little village church in the back-ground, looks far too good and demure for a Maid of Honour,�I mean for a Maid of Honour of Charles's court: for Heaven forbid that we should reflect on the honourable virginity of our own days! and yet the whole of the information which has been obtained amounts to this; that Mrs. Nott was one of the Maids of Honour to Queen Catherine, and nothing more can be known of the original. As for the picture, it is some satisfaction to know, while we gaze upon it, that slander has never breathed upon those features to sully them to our fancy; that sorrow, which comes to all, can never come there; that she shall keep her lustrous eyes, while those which now look upon her are closed for ever; and smile, still smile on, for other ages�"in midst of other woes than ours;" and this is something to dwell upon with pleasure, when all the rest is silence. The portrait has always been one of the most admired of all the Windsor Beauties, and is painted with great sweetness and truth of colouring. The drapery is crimson, relieved with a white veil. The vase of flowers in the back-ground is finished with a delicacy worthy of Verelst. [This " Madonna-like creature " was a Stanley of Kent, the wife of a gentleman of the name of Notts, whose family had been of gentilitial rank for a generation or two in the city of Canterbury. Her history appears not to be much known. She was a distant cousin of the famous and lovely Lady Venetia Stanley, the mistress of the Earl of Dorset, and the incomparable wife of that character " -great in all numbers," Sir Kenelm Digby. Probably Mrs. Nott was introduced at court by George Digby, Earl of Bristol; and she might have been an early and youthful friend of his daughter, Lady Anne Digby, Countess of Sunderland. Her name has had the good fortune to escape being recorded in the Chroniques scandaleuses of the day, and therefore we are bound to think that she was a pure and virtuous lady.�Ed.] o THE COUNTESS OF SOUTHESK. " How should woman tell Of woman's shame, and not with tears ?�She fell!" Mhs. Hemans. HEN the accompanying portrait was first copied and engraved for publication, , it was supposed to represent Frances Brooke, Lady Whitmore, the younger sister of Lady Denhain; by which name the portrait has been traditionally known in the gallery at Windsor. But on examining the duplicate which exists at Narford, in the possession of Mr. Fountaine, and referring to the authority of Horace Walpole and Granger, there can be little doubt that it represents a woman much more notorious, Anne, Countess of Southesk. , By this title the picture has always been distinguished at Narford since the days of Sir Andrew Fountaine, the first possessor, and the contemporary of the original; and by this name it was recognized as an original by Horace Walpole. The copy made in crayons by his order, is now at Strawberry Hill, and noted in his catalogue as that Lady Southesk, who figures so disgracefully in De Grammont's " Memoirs.'' To take up the history of this woman seriously, would be a waste of indignation: the little that is known of her we could wish to be less�and it shall be told as gently as possible. Lady Anne Hamilton was the eldest daughter of William second Duke of Hamilton, who, like all his family, was distinguished in the civil wars for his devoted and chivalrous loyalty. He lost his life at the battle of Worcester, fighting for an ungrateful and worthless King; and his wife, Lady Elizabeth Maxwell (the daughter of the Earl of Dirletown,) whom he had married very young in 1638, was left a widow, with four daughters,�the eldest, Lady Anne, being then about eleven years old. Where she spent her younger years,�how and by whom she was educated, cannot now be ascertained. The early loss of her noble father seems to have been her first misfortune, and the cause of all the faults, follies, and miseries which succeeded. The Duke of Hamilton had been distinguished in the court of Charles the First for his accomplishments and integrity; he was so remarkable for his love of truth, that it was said "that candour seemed in him not so much the effect of virtue as of nature, since from his infancy upwards he had never been known to lie on any temptation whatever."l Burnet, 1 " History of the Dukes of Hamilton." ANNE, COUNTESS OF SOUTHESK. THE COUNTESS OF SOUTHESK. Ill who gives this testimony to the noblest and first of virtues, adds, that he was " handsome, witty, considerate, brave, and generous." He married young, against his own inclinations, and merely in obedience to the wishes and views of his brother, whom he idolized;1 but being married he became an exemplary husband and father, and the gentle virtues of Lady Elizabeth appear to have won at length his entire confidence and affection. In a letter addressed to his wife on the eve of the battle of Worcester, he gives her the most endearing appellations that tenderness and sorrow could dictate in such a moment: " I recommend to you," he says, "the care and education of our poor children; let your great work be to make them early acquainted with God and their duty, and keep all light and idle company from them." After his death this letter was found in his pocket-book, stained with his blood. How far his last and most affecting adjuration was attended to by his widow, we do not know; but we know that in the case of one of his children it proved fruitless. The death of her father was not only an irreparable misfortune to Lady Anne, as it deprived her of a guardian and monitor, but it made an essential difference in her worldly prospects: although the titles and estates of the Hamilton family were transmitted in the female line, she was passed over, and the honours devolved on her cousin, the eldest daughter of James the first Duke of Hamilton, who became Duchess of Hamilton in her own right, while Lady Anne was destined to comparative insignificance. Still the high rank and virtues of her father, and the irreproachable conduct of her mother, render it difficult to account for the unguarded situation in which she was early placed, and her degenerate lapse from the virtues of her family. The very first notice we have of Lady Anne Hamilton, when she could not be more than eighteen, exhibits her as the friend and companion of Lady Castlemaine (then Mrs. Palmer,) and not only involved, as her confidante, in her intrigue with Lord Chesterfield, but most probably at the same time the object of his attentions.2 She was then apparently a beautiful giddy flirt, prepared by the lessons and example of Lady Castlemaine for every species of mischief; and there is too much, reason to believe, that when she attracted the notice of Lord Carnegie, the eldest son of the Earl of Southesk, she had ceased to be worthy of the hand or name of any man delicate on the score of female propriety, or jealous of his own honour. The family of Carnegie (or Kerneguy,) is now, I believe, extinct in all its branches. It was then one of the oldest in Scotland, and traced its origin to a noble Hungarian, who was naturalized in the country in the reign of Malcolm Canmore. James Carnegie, second Earl of Southesk, was a loyal and devoted adherent to the fortunes of Charles the First, and is also honourably mentioned for his general worth and integrity; his son Robert, Lord Carnegie, spent several years on the Continent, and during the government of Cromwell resided at Paris, where he was much distinguished by Louis XIV., who gave him a commission in the Scots Guards. He is described as a man of fine natural parts and graceful manners, improved by travelling;3 but under these superficial advantages, he concealed deep, dark, malignant passions, and a temper at once dissembling and vindictive: he had, besides, a predilection for bull-baiting, for the bear-garden, and the cock-pit, which we cannot reconcile with our ideas of an accomplished gentleman, even of that day. His marriage with Lady Anne Hamilton was celebrated soon after the Restoration; but the date is not mentioned in any of the old peerages". 1 His brother was James first Duke of Hamilton, beheaded by the Parliament during the civil wars. There is a portrait and memoir of William Duke of Hamilton, the father of Lady Southesk, in Lodge's "Portraits of Illustrious Persons." 2 Vide " Correspondence of Philip second Earl of Chesterfield." 3 Fide Douglas's " Scottish Peerage." 112 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II. After her appearance at court, Lady Carnegie plunged at once into every species of dissipation; nor did the birth of two sons in the first years of her marriage check the career of thoughtless levity, and worse than levity, to which she abandoned herself. Her husband, meantime, was not gifted with the patience of a martyr; and though jealousy was not the fashion in Charles the Second's time, Lord Carnegie, the courtier, the travelled man of the world, after having committed the folly of marrying a wild, vain, unprincipled girl, had the still greater folly to be jealous of his wife, and to betray it to the scoffing court. While he was smarting under a thousand agonies,�not indeed doubting his dishonour, but only uncertain which of his wife's numerous admirers he should select for the especial object of his hatred and vengeance,�he was summoned down to Scotland to attend the death-bed of his father; and while he was thus engaged, Lady Carnegie seized the opportunity to add the Duke of York to the list of her lovers. During her husband's absence, she appears to have so far braved opinion, as to exhibit her royal captive every where in open triumph; but in a few weeks Lord Carnegie reappeared with the title of Earl of Southesk, an accession of dignity which his fairer half would most willingly have dispensed with, if she could also have dispensed with his very incommodious return. It now became necessary to keep some measures of decency, and the duke never visited her without being accompanied by some of the gentlemen of his retinue, by way of form. On one of these occasions he was attended by his Irish friend, Dick Talbot,1 then only distinguished for his loyalty, his love of pleasure, his reckless good-nature, and hair-brained precipitancy. While the duke was conversing with Lady Southesk, Talbot was placed at a window, as sentinel. He had not been there many minutes, before a carriage drew up at the door, and out stepped the husband. Talbot knew him well as Lord Carnegie; but having just returned from abroad, he had no idea that his former companion had lately changed his name�no recollection of his hereditary title; and it never occurred to him that the Lady Southesk, whom his patron was entertaining, was the wife of his old friend Carnegie. On seeing him alight he flew to prevent his entrance, telling him with a significant laugh, and a warm shake of the hand, that if he too was come to visit the beautiful Lady Southesk, he had only to go seek amusement elsewhere; for that the Duke of York was just then engaged in paying his compliments to the lady, and had placed him there expressly to prevent any mal-a-propos interruption. Southesk, instead of forcing his way into his own house, and avenging on the spot his injured honour, was so utterly confounded by the cool impudence and obvious blunder of the unlucky Talbot, that he suffered himself to be fairly turned out by the shoulders, and sneaked off with a submission, partly the effect of surprise, partly of policy; for he had not courage to brave openly the heir-presumptive to the crown. The history of this ludicrous adventure was speedily spread through the whole court; it became the subject of ballads, lampoons, and epigrams innumerable, and covered the unfortunate earl with a degree of contempt and ridicule, which added to his shame and despair. Yet even this public exposure and its consequences did not banish Lady Southesk from society: she continued for some years to haunt the court: she sought at the gamingtable a relief from ennui, and endeavoured'to conceal by art the ravages which dissipation, rather than time, had made in her once lovely face. Pepys mentions her, among the beauties of the day, as parading her charms in the park and the theatre; and to use his own Afterwards Duke of Tyrconnel. THE COUNTESS OF SOUTHESK. 113 coarse, but forcible expression, '^devilishly painted." Her latter years were embittered by sorrows, against which a woman's heart, however depraved, is seldom entirely hardened. In her days of triumphant beauty, she had neglected her children; and in age they became her torment. Her eldest son, Lord Carnegie, treated her with coldness, and seemed to enter into his father's wrongs and feelings towards her; her youngest and favourite son, William Carnegie, a youth of great beauty of person and splendid talents, was killed in a duel at the age of nineteen. He had been sent to Paris to complete his education, and there meeting with young Tallemache, the son of the Duchess of Lauderdale,1 they quarrelled about a profligate actress; and in this unworthy cause William Carnegie perished, in the spring and blossom of his years. Lady Southesk died before her husband, and did not long survive the loss of her son, which occurred in 1681; but the date of her death is not mentioned. Lord Southesk died in 1688, and was succeeded by his son Charles, Lord Carnegie, who, like all his family, was devotedly attached to the house of Stuart. After the Revolution he never visited the English court, but continued to reside in Scotland, either at Kinnaird in Forfar,,or at the Castle of Leuchars, the ancient seats of his family. He died in 1699, and left a son, the fifth and last Earl of Southesk. Lady Southesk had three sisters, who all married in Scotland, and apparently passed their lives there. The eldest, Lady Elizabeth Hamilton, became Countess of Glen-cairn; Lady Mary married Lord Calendar; and Lady Margaret became the wife of William Blair, of Blair. This picture is not very brilliantly or powerfully painted; the girlish and almost rustic simplicity of the face, and the demure colour of the drapery, which is of a dark lavender tint, strangely belie the character of the woman to whom it is here attributed; but for reasons already stated, I have little doubt that it is really the portrait of the Countess of Southesk. 1 She was Countess of Dysart in her own right. SUSAN ARMINE, LADY BELLASYS. " Bonne et Belle assez." Motto of the Belasyse Family. * HIS picture, which is the most striking and splendid of the whole series known as the Windsor Beauties, is, unhappily, one of the disputed portraits. At Windsor it is traditionally known as Elinor Lady Byron ;l but, on the authority of Horace Walpole, Granger, and Sir William Musgrave, all three well versed in the biography of our peerage, as well as in pictorial and domestic antiquities, it is generally supposed to represent Susan Armine, " the widow of Sir Henry Bellasys, and mistress of the Duke of York."2 Methinks, if this magnificent-looking creature could speak, she would certainly exclaim against this last disreputable and unmerited title, or insist that it should be understood with a reservation in her favour: but since those lips, though stained with no " Stygian hue," are silenced by death, and can only look their scorn, we must plead, in defence of Lady Bellasys, that if the circumstances of her life gave some colour to the slander which has been unadvisedly stamped on her fair, open brow, she estimated, as a woman ought to estimate, her own and her sex's honour. Susan Armine was the daughter of Sir William Armine, of Osgodby, in Lincolnshire. 1 Elinor Needham, daughter of Lord Kilmurrey, married at eleven years old to Peter Warburton, Esq., who died before she was fifteen, and after his death the wife of the first Lord Byron, is described in Sir Peter Leicester's " Antiquities of Chester," as " a person of such comely carriage and presence, handsomeness, sweet disposition, honour, and general respect in the world, that she has scarce left her equal behind." But Sir Peter was personally the friend of the lady, and connected with her family, and his testimony is rather incorrect and partial. The fact is, that this Lady Byron became, after the death of her husband, the mistress of Charles II. during his exile; and, avarice being her ruling passion, she contrived to extort from him, even in the midst of his distresses, upwards of .�15,000 in money and jewels, &c. She was dismissed for the sake of Lady Castlemaine, before the King's return, and died at Chester, within two years after the Eestoration. It is not very probable that the portrait of this lady should find its way into the Gallery of Court Beauties of the time of Charles II. It may be added, that the picture has been attributed by some to Vandyke, by others to Lely, by others to Huysman. If Lady Byron sat to Vandyke, it must have been in her childhood; if to Lely or to Huysman, it must have been abroad, or after the Eestoration, both circumstances equally improbable. Among the family pictures at Tabley (the seat of the Leycesters), there is a very fine full-length portrait, nearly resembling this at Windsor: it is there entitled Lady Byron, and attributed to Lely. On the whole it is quite impossible to reconcile the very contradictory evidence relative to the person and the picture, but by attributing the portrait at once to Lady Bellasys, on the most probable grounds and the most credible testimony. 2 Horace Walpole, "Anecdotes of Painting;" Granger's "Biographical History of England;" and Musgrave's " MS. notes to Granger," British Museum. SUSAN ARMINE, LADY BELLASYS. LADY BELLASYS. 115 Her mother, Mary Talbot, was a niece of the Earl of Shrewsbury, and a lady distinguished in her time for her various learning, as well as for her gentle and feminine virtues and extensive charities.1 It appears that Susan Armine was their only child and heiress, and that she was married very young, according to the fashion of those times, to Henry Bellasys, the son and heir of Lord Bellasys, and nephew of Lord Fauconberg.2 Lord Bellasys, who had greatly signalized himself in the royal cause, became, after the Eestoration, the friend and favourite of the Duke of York; and his son Henry was created a knight of the Bath, in recompense for his own gallantry and his father's loyalty. From the few particulars which have been preserved relating to Sir Henry Bellasys, we may pronounce him to have been eminently brave and generous, but of a rash and fiery disposition. His headlong impetuosity first involved him in a luckless mistake, which led to the murder of an innocent man,3 and afterwards occasioned his own death, in the prime of life, and within a few years after his marriage. The circumstances, which form, perhaps, the severest satire against duelling that ever was penned, and might well excite a smile but for the tragical result, are thus related:�Sir Henry, after a late revel, was conversing apart with his dear and sworn friend Tom Porter, then Groom of the Chamber to the King. As they spoke with animation, and rather loud, some one standing by asked if they were quarrelling? " Quarrelling?" exclaimed Sir Henry, turning round; ano! I would have you to know that I never quarrel but I strike!" "How!" said Porter, " strike! I would I could see the man that dare give me a blow!" Sir Henry, flushed with recent intemperance, and only sensible to the defiance implied in these words, instantly struck him. They drew, of course, but were immediately separated by their friends. Porter left the house, and meeting Dryden, told him, in a wild manner, what had just passed, and that he must fight Sir Henry Bellasys presently; for if he waited till the morrow, he " knew they would be friends again, and the disgrace of the blow would rest upon him." He borrowed Dryden's servant, whom he ordered to watch for Sir Henry, and give him notice - which way he went. He then followed his carriage, stopped it in Covent Garden, and called on his friend to alight. They drew their swords and fought on the spot, some of their acquaintance and others looking on; till Sir Henry Bellasys, finding himself severely wounded, staggered, and had nearly fallen, but sustaining himself by an effort, he called to Tom Porter, and desired him to fly. " Tom," said he affectionately, u thou hast hurt me; but I will make a shift to stand on my legs till thou mayst withdraw, for I would not have thee troubled for what thou hast done!" He then kissed and embraced him: v but Porter, unable to speak, could only show him that he too was wounded, and bleeding. In this state they were carried home. Sir Henry Bellasys died of his wounds within four days after the encounter; and thus, in consequence of a foolish and drunken outrage, perished a young man of high hopes, noble birth, generous feeling, and approved gallantry, by the hand of the man he most loved, and for whom he would willingly have shed his blood. This extraordinary duel, which even then excited more ridicule than sympathy,4 occurred in 1667. Of Lady Bellasys, married so young, and so early left a widow, we do not hear at 1 Lady Armine died in 1674. It is said that she founded three hospitals for the sick and the poor, one of which (at Burton Grange, Yorkshire) still exists. 2 In the reign of Charles II. the name was spelt indifferently Bellasses and Bellasys, hut more recently Belasyse. The title of Fauconberg became extinct within the last few years. 3 See Pepys, vol. i. p. 133. 4 " It is pretty to hear how all the world doth talk of them, and call them a couple of fools, who killed each other for pure love."�Pepys, 116 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES IE this time. She was the mother of one son, an infant; and it appears that she lived in retirement for some years after the death of her husband. It was about the year 1670 that she was first distinguished at court,�not so much for her beauty, as for her wit, her vivacity, her high spirit and uncommon powers of mind. These qualities fascinated the Duke of York. It was said of him, that he was as indifferent to beauty as Charles was to virtue and intellect in woman. Some of the ladies whom the duke most admired were so homely, that the King used to aver, that the priests had inflicted his brother's mistresses on him by way of penance. It is, however, certain that those women whom the duke selected as the peculiar objects of his homage, do rather more honour to his taste, than the favourites of Charles do to his: Lady Denham, Arabella Churchill, Miss Sedley, Lady Bellasys, to say nothing of Miss Hamilton and Miss Jennings, whom he also passionately admired and vainly pursued, are proofs that something like education and refinement were necessary to attract his attention, and something like wit and understanding to keep him awake. Lady Bellasys, who had virtue and spirit as well as wit and bright eyes, gained a strong influence over his mind without compromising her own honour; and after the death of the first duchess of York, in 1672, he actually placed in her hands a written contract of marriage, only requiring secrecy, at least for a time. This affair coming to the knowledge of the King some months afterwards, he sent for his brother, and rebuked him very severely, telling him that " at his age it was intolerable that he should think to play the fool over again," alluding to his former marriage with Anne Hyde. But neither the threats of the King, nor the arguments and persuasions of Lord Bellasys, her father-in-law, who thought himself obliged, in honour and duty, to interfere, could, for a long time, induce Lady Bellasys to give up this contract of marriage, and brand herself with dishonour. She yielded, at length, when the safety and welfare of the duke and the peace of the nation were urged as depending on her compliance; but even then, only on condition that she should be allowed to keep an attested copy in her own possession; to which they were obliged, though most reluctantly, to consent. In return for this concession, Lady Bellasys was created, in 1674, a peeress for life, by the title of Baroness Bellasys of Osgodby, having succeeded, on the death of her father and mother, to the family estates. It is said that the Duke of York, who seems to have loved Lady Bellasys as well as he could love any thing, made many attempts to convert her to his own religion, but in vain. It was even supposed that there was some danger of the lady converting her royal lover; a suspicion which raised a strong party against her among the duke's Eoman Catholic dependants, and led to much of the slander from which her name and fame have suffered. About ten years after these events, Lady Bellasys married a gentleman of fortune, whose name was Fortrey, of whom we know nothing but that she survived him. Her son, Henry Bellasys, succeeded in 1684 to the title and estates of his grandfather, as Lord Bellasys of Worlaby, and died about the year 1690: he married Anne Brudenell, a beautiful woman, and sister of the celebrated Countess of Newburgh, Lord Lansdowne's u Mira." She afterwards married Charles Lennox, Duke of Richmond; and from her the present duke is descended. It is to be inferred, from a letter of Swift to Mrs. Dingley (or rather to Stella), that Lady Bellasys appeared again at court in the reign of Queen Anne, and from this daughter of her former lover she received every mark of distinction and respect. She died on the 6th of January, 1713, bequeathing her rich inheritance among her nearest kinsmen: Lord Berkeley of Stratton was appointed the executor of her will, with a legacy often thousand pounds. LADY BELLASYS. 117 Horace Walpole, in allusion to this portrait, thinks it probable that Charles, by admitting Lady Bellasys into the gallery at Windsor, meant to insinuate the superiority of his own taste over that of his brother; if so, he has not assuredly taken the best means of proving it, since every other face, however regular and beautiful, appears insipid when placed in contrast with this noble creature,�Miss Hamilton's, perhaps, alone excepted. Lady Bellasys is here represented as St. Catherine. Her left hand rests on the wheel, and supports the palm branch ; her right hand is pressed to her bosom. The drapery, which is dark blue and crimson, falls round her in grand and ample folds, and is coloured with exceeding richness. In the back-ground two cherubs are descending to crown her with myrtle, and she turns her large dark eyes towards them with an expression of rapturous devotion. Her jet black hair, falling from beneath a coronet of gems, flows in ringlets upon her neck ; and this peculiarity, as well as the uncovered amplitude of the bosom and shoulders, seems to refer the portrait to the time of Charles II. On a critical examination of the features, we are obliged to allow the absence of beauty; the contour of the face is not perfect, and the nose and mouth are rather irregular in form; but then, as a certain French cardinal said of his mistress, "c'est au moins, la plus belle irregularite du monde"�and the eyes and brow are splendid. They have all the life and vivacity which Burnet attributes to this intractable lady, as he styles her.1 There is so much of poetry and feeling in the composition of this picture; so much of intellectual grandeur in the turn of the head; such a freedom and spirit in the mechanical execution; and such a rich tone of colour pervading the whole, that the portrait might be assigned at once to Vandyke, if other circumstances did not render it improbable. It bears no traces of the style of Sir Peter Lely, and I am inclined to agree with Horace Walpole, who attributes it decidedly to Huysman. Huysman was the pupil of Vandyke, and he may have painted this picture in the early period of his residence in England, and before he quitted the powerful and spirited style of his former master, to imitate the effeminate graces of Lely. There is at Gorhambury, in the possession of Lord Verulam, a portrait of Queen Catherine, indisputably by Huysman, so nearly resembling this picture in the composition and style of execution, that it adds strength to this persuasion; �but I am far from presuming to decide where abler judges cannot agree. 1 See Burnet, " History of his Own Times/' vol. i. p. 393. P THE COUNTESS OF SUNDERLAND. " Gracious to all, but where her love was due So fast, so faithful, loyal, just, and true ; That a bold hand as soon might hope to force The rolling lights of heaven, as change her course." Waller. NNE DIGBY, Countess of Sunderland, succeeded to a title which had already been distinguished in the person of her mother-in-law, Dorothy Sidney, the first Countess of Sunderland, Waller's celebrated " Sacharissa." The second Countess of Sunderland wore her honours with equal grace; she was equally beautiful and blameless, and she played a much more interesting and important part in the real game of life: but she had no poet to hymn her into fame, to immortalize her girdle, and even her waiting-maid,1�to render her name, like that of Sacharissa, a sweet and familiar sound to the fancy and the ear. The celebrity of the second Lady Sunderland is of a very different kind; it has been dimmed by the breath of malice, and mixed up with the discord of faction; part of the obloquy which attended the political career of her husband fell on her, and party rancour added other imputations; but all evidence deserving of the slightest credit is in favour of the character and conduct of this accomplished woman,�the friend of the angelic Lady Russell and of the excellent Evelyn. Lady Anne Digby was the second daughter of George Digby, Earl of Bristol; her mother was Lady Anne Eussell, daughter of Francis second Earl of Bedford, a woman of the most amiable character and unblemished life. Lord Bristol, who played a most conspicuous part in the civil wars, after the Restoration was one of the most remarkable characters of that time; a compound of great virtues and great vices, splendid talents and extravagant passions: such was his inconsistency of principle and conduct, that Walpole describes him as " one contradiction." He appears, in fact, to have been deeply tinged with that eccentricity (to give it no stronger name) which characterized so many of his noble family in the seventeenth century. His property having been confiscated in the time of Cromwell, he resided abroad for several years, following the various fortunes of his royal master. Clarendon tells us, that at this time he entered deeply into the libertine excesses of Charles's vagabond court; " that he left no way unattempted to render himself gracious 1 Waller's " Poems." See his address to Sacharissa's waiting-maid, Mrs, Braughton, beginning, " Fair fellow-servant !" &c. ANNE, COUNTESS OF SUNDERLAND. THE COUNTESS OF SUNDERLAND. 119 to the King, by saying and doing all that might be acceptable to him, and contriving such meetings and jollities as he was pleased with," although he was at this time married, and the father of two daughters. His poor wife lived as well as she might, occasionally residing at Paris, but generally at the Hague or at Amsterdam; and while abroad, she married her eldest daughter, Lady Diana Digby, to a Flemish nobleman, the Baron Von Mall, of whom we know nothing farther. At the Restoration, Digby recovered his estates; he became a favourite at court, where his youngest daughter appeared with all the advantages which her fathers rank, her mother's virtues, and her own beauty and vivacity could lend her. Lady Anne was at this time not quite seventeen, exceedingly fair, with a profusion of light brown tresses, tinged with a golden hue; she had a complexion of the most dazzling transparency, small regular features, and a slight delicate figure, yet with a certain dignity of presence which is said to have particularly distinguished the Digbys of that age. About the same time Eobert Spencer, the young Earl of Sunderland, returned from his travels and appeared at court. He was the only son of Henry, the first Earl of Sunderland,1 and Dorothy Sidney, and was now about one-and-twenty, eminently handsome in person and full of talents and spirit. He fixed his affections on Lady Anne Digby, and to a match so suitable in years, rank, and in merit, there could be no objection; but even here, when all the preliminaries were settled between the two great families with due pomp and ceremony, the course of true love was not destined; to run smooth. The deeds were prepared, the wedding-clothes were bought,�even the day was fixed, yet the marriage had nearly been broken off. The Earl of Bristol, in consequence of some extravagance of language, was called up before the House of Commons to justify himself; he made a most eloquent speech, but with so much heat and gesticulation, that he was compared to a stage-player; and what Vas worse his rhetoric did not appear to have much effect upon the Commons, while the Lords were incensed at his appearing before the other house without their express permission: in short, his disgrace or ruin was impending, and Lady Anne had nearly been the innocent victim of her father's misconduct or indiscretion. In this state of things, those who envied her beauty and her good fortune, or hated her family, reported every where that the marriage was broken off,�that Lord Sunderland had gone out of town, after sending her a a release of all claim and title to her, and advice to his own friends not to inquire into the reasons for his conduct, for he had reason enough for it." All this scandalous exaggeration, which Pepys gives us at full length, was merely " a weak invention of the enemy." It is possible that Lord Sunderland's mother and his ' uncle, the Earl of Leicester, began to look coldly on the connexion; for the former entertained some jealousy of her daughter-in-law, and the latter disliked and opposed Lord Bristol: but Lord Sunderland did not leave London, nor did he remit his attentions to his chosen bride. After a little delay, the preparations and the courtship went forward as before; and in the month of July, 1663, the marriage was celebrated with more than usual magnificence. The four or five years which immediately followed her marriage, were probably the happiest of Lady Sunderland's life. Her husband was young, of a gay, magnificent spirit, full of talent and sensibility; and though he entered into the dissipation of the time, and unhappily contracted a passion for deep play, still his early love of literature, a natural elegance of mind, and above all, the affection of a beautiful and 1 Killed in the battle of Newbury at the age of twenty-three. See a most interesting memoir of this brave and accomplished nobleman in Lodge's " Portraits and Memoirs." 120 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II. accomplished wife, whom he esteemed as well as loved, kept him for some time clear from the open profligacy and crooked politics of a court, where he was always well received, and where his countess took the place due to her rank and loveliness without entering into its follies. Most of their time was spent at Althorpe, and there, within the first four years of her marriage, Lady Sunderland became the mother of three children; Robert Lord Spencer, born in 1664, and two daughters. They lived at this time with considerable magnificence, so regulated by the excellent sense and domestic habits of Lady Sunderland, that they might long have continued to do so without injury to their splendid income, had not the earl's unhappy predilection for gambling diminished his property, preyed on his spirits, and at length led him to play a more deep and ruinous game of political intrigue, in which he made shipwreck, not only of fortune and domestic happiness, but virtue, honour, fame, and all that man ought to cherish beyond life itself. He was appointed Ambassador to Spain in 1671; and the countess was preparing to follow him, when the ill success of the earl's embassy, and his recall within a few months, prevented this intended journey. Lord Sunderland, on his return, being appointed Ambassador Extraordinary to the French court,1 Lady Sunderland joined him at Paris; they remained there together for about a year. From this time there was an end of Lady Sunderland's domestic peace; her restless and ambitious husband became deeply involved in all those dark, disgraceful schemes of court policy which threatened the very foundation of English freedom. She had not even the consolation which belongs to many a wife whose husband treads the giddy path of ambition,�that of seeing her lord honoured and useful in his generation, and thus, in the gratification of her pride, finding some amends for disappointed love. Endued with splendid abilities of every kind, cultivated by study; with an intellect to comprehend the universe, to weigh the destinies and wield the resources of great nations; with the most consummate address, the most insinuating graces of manner, and with a knowledge of human nature, or rather of the world, allowed to be unrivalled,� with all these advantages Lord Sunderland united no generous feeling or patriotic principle, no elevated or enlarged views of policy. To obtain wealth, office, power for himself,�to baffle or betray his rivals,�to govern one king through his mistresses and his vices, and dupe another through his friendship and his virtues,�such were the objects he pursued. After being twice Prime Minister of England and at the summit of power; alternately the leader, the tool, and the victim of a party, this really accomplished but most miserable man sank into the grave, leaving behind a reputation for political profligacy, which happily has been more than redeemed by later statesmen of his family.2 , In the midst of many trials and anxieties, Lady Sunderland appears ever superior to her husband in sense, in virtue, and in feeling. All the notices of her scattered through Evelyn's "Diary," exhibit her uniformly in the most amiable and respectable light; he appears to have been the cqnfidant of her secret charities, as well as of her domestic afflictions: on one occasion he notes in his " Diary," that Lady Sunderland " gave him ten guineas to bestow in private charities," (equal to thirty pounds at the present time.) In 1686, when Lord Sunderland was Lord President of the Council, and principal 1 " October 8th, 1674. I took leave of Lady Sunderland, who was going to Paris to my lord, now ambassador there. She made me stay dinner, and afterwards sent for Richardson, the famous fire-eater," &c.�Evelyn's Diary, 2 The history of Lord Sunderland's political career, from 1671 to 1695, and of the double and treacherous part he played in the Revolution, may be found in all the records of that period :�as a tissue of venality, inconsistency, and falsehood, it is perhaps unexampled. THE COUNTESS OF SUNDERLAND. 121 Secretary of State, Evelyn writes to her in these terms: "lam not unmindful of the late command you laid upon me, to give you a catalogue of such books as I believed might be fit to entertain your more devout and serious hours; and I look upon it as a peculiar grace and favour of God to your ladyship, that amidst* so many temptations and grandeur of courts, the attendance, visits, diversions, and other circumstances of the palace, and the way you are engaged in, you are resolved that nothing of all this shall interrupt your duty to God and the religion you profess, wherever it comes into competition with the things of this world, how splendid soever they may appear for a little and (God knows!) uncertain time. Madame, it is the best and most grateful return you can make to heaven for all the blessings you enjoy; amongst which is none you are more happy in than in the virtue, early and solid piety of my Lady Anne, and progress of your little son. Madame, the foundation you have laid in these two blessings will not only build, but establish your illustrious family, beyond all you can make of gallant and great in the estimation of the world,'' &c. This letter does more honour to Lady Sunderland than to Evelyn. The sentiments are rather uncouthly expressed, but such sentiments never would have been addressed by Evelyn to a woman suspected of levity and hypocrisy. The little son he alludes to was her son Charles, the common ancestor of the Duke of Marlborough and Earl Spencer. Her eldest son, early emancipated from her control, and unchecked by his father, plunged into every species of dissipation; she endeavoured to reform him by an early marriage, and proposed to unite him with the daughter of Sir Stephen Fox. She used Evelyn's intervention in this affair; but Sir Stephen was not well inclined to the match: he evidently disliked the character of the young lord, but excused himself by pleading the extreme youth of his daughter. The countess was deeply mortified and disappointed, but soon afterwards received a deeper blow in the death of her son, who died at Paris in his twenty-fourth year. In her second son Charles, afterwards Lord Spencer, Lady Sunderland sought and found consolation; he was in every respect a contrast to his brother, and, at the early age of fifteen, Evelyn alludes to him as a youth of extraordinary hopes, and of singular maturity of intellect. But it was Lady Sunderland's fate to suffer through the virtues as well as the vices of her nearest and dearest connexions; the trial and execution of her cousin, the excellent Lord Russell, and her husband's cousin, Algernon Sidney, in 1683, overwhelmed her with affliction. In one of her letters to Evelyn, she describes her own and her mother's grief in strong and affecting terms. Her tenderness for her mother, Lady Bristol, was at all times truly filial: she now devoted herself to her comfort, and from this time the old lady spent most of her time in the society of her daughter, either at Althorpe or in London. - Evelyn, in his Diary, gives an account of a visit which he paid to Lady Sunderland in 1688. Having invited him to Althorpe, she with true aristocratic magnificence provided a carriage and four to convey him from London, and all his expenses going and returning were defrayed by her command, although Evelyn was himself a man of large and independent fortune. He describes Althorpe, its beautiful park, its tasteful gardens, and noble gallery of pictures, in language which would serve for the present time,�"and all this," he adds, u is governed by a lady who, without any show of solicitude, keeps every thing in such admirable order, both within and without, from the garret to the cellar, that I do not believe there is any in this nation, or in any other, that exceeds her in such exact order, without ostentation, but substantially great and noble. The meanest servant is lodged so neat and cleanly; the service at the several tables; the good order and decency,�in a 122 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II. word, the entire economy is perfectly becoming a wise and noble person. She is one who, for her distinguished esteem of me, from a long and worthy friendship, I must ever honour and celebrate* I wish from my soul the lord her husband, whose parts and abilities are otherwise conspicuous, was as worthy of her, as by a fatal apostacy and court ambition, he has made himself unworthy! This is what she deplores, and it renders her as much affliction as a lady of great soul and much prudence is capable of. The Countess of Bristol, her mother, a grave and honourable lady, has the comfort of seeing her daughter and grandchildren under the same economy."1 Lady Sunderland was the mother of seven children; three of them, a son and two daughters, had died in their childhood. The others, except Lord Spencer, appear to have been under the same roof with her at the period of Evelyn's visit. Charles Spencer was pursuing his studies under an excellent and learned tutor. Her two eldest daughters, Lady Anne and Lady Elizabeth, were lately married, and are described as "admirable for their accomplishments and virtue." Lady Anne, now in her twenty-first year, was the wife of James Lord Arran, son of the Duke of Hamilton; Lady Elizabeth, who was scarcely seventeen, had just married Donogh Macarty, Earl of Clancarty, a handsome, dissipated, wrong-headed Irishman, of whom Evelyn remarks, u that he gave as yet no great presage of worth." He does not tell us what induced Lord and Lady Sunderland to bestow on him their youthful and lovely daughter, unless it was the earl's " great and faire estate in Ireland." In 1689, Lady Sunderland quitted her family to accompany her husband abroad; at the Revolution, he was excepted from pardon both by William and James, and went to hide his head in Holland; there, after suffering the extremity of misery, he was arrested by order of the States, but soon afterwards liberated by the interposition of King William. On this occasion Lady Sunderland addressed to the King the following letter, partly the expression of gratitude, and partly of supplication. Lady Sunderland to King William III. " Amsterdam, March 11th, 1689. " The relief I had by your majesty's justice and grace from the sharpest apprehensions that ever I lay under, may, I hope, be allowed a sufficient plea for the liberty I now take to present you my most humble acknowledgments for that great charity of yours; I dare not impute it to any other motive: but, however unfortunate my present circumstances are, I have this to support me, that my thoughts, as well as actions, have been and are, and I dare to say ever will be, what they ought to be to your majesty; and not only upon the account of the duty I now owe you, but long before your glorious undertaking, I can't but hope you remember how devoted I was to your service, which was founded upon so many great and estimable qualities in you, that I can never change my opinion, whatever my fortune may be in this world; and may I but hope for so much of your majesty's favour as to live quietly in a country where you have so much power, till it shall please God to let me end my days at my own home, I shall ever be most truly and humbly thankful." Whatever may be thought of the humble tone and petitionary vehemence of this letter, the style is dignity itself compared to the utter prostration of mind which is exhi- x Evelyn's "Diary/' vol. i. p. 613. THE COUNTESS OF SUNDERLAND. 123 bited in those of Lord Sunderland. The above letter I presume to have been enclosed in the following, addressed to Evelyn, and which I am enabled to give at length from the original autograph.1 It is not the best specimen which might have been selected of Lady Sunderland's epistolary style, but the circumstance under which it was written, and the sentiments contained in it, render it particularly interesting. " Amstekdam, March 12th, 1689. 44 Under all the misfortunes I have gone through of late, I cannot but be sensible of that of not having heard a word from you. Indeed, I have sometimes need of your letters, as well for to help me as pleas me: and indeed, my good friend, they do both; wherefore, pray make amends. I am sure you have heard of the unusual proceeding my lord met with in this country; but, by the King's grace and justice, he is releast.I heer inclosed, send you a paper which was writ by your advice and another very good friend. If it be not what you like, I hope the sinceritye will make amends; for, indeed, it is exactly true, every tittle, I dare say. I thank God, my lord is come to a most com-, fortable frame of mind, and a serious consideration of his past life, which is so great a comfort to me, that I must call upon you, my good friend, to thanke God for it, and to pray that I too may be truly thankfull. As to what relates to this world, we desire nothing but to live quietly in Holland, till it shall pleas God we may end our days at Althorpe: that were a great blessing to us; but it will not be thought of such an inestimable price by : others as we esteem it; and therefore, I hope in God 'twill not be envyed us. I am sure nothing else in our fortune deserves envy ; and yet, having reduced my lord to the thoughts he has, it is for ever to be acknowledged by me to Almighty God, as the greatest of mercies. Pray for me, and love me, and let me hear from you. Do inclose your letters to this merchant. God send us a happy meeting! Farewell! 44 Yours, 44 A. S." 44 Pray remember to urge, that, desiring to live in Holand, till wee can be allowed to live at Althorpe, is neither a sign of a Frenchman nor a Papist; and I thanke God my lord is neither. He has no pretensions, and will have none; and therefore interest cannot make him say it; but he never did anything but suffer it to be said, besides going to chapel, as hundreds did, who now value themselves for good Protestants. God knows that was so much to my soul's grief; but more had been wrong; and I dare say he is most heartyly and most Cristianly sorry for what he has done." In a postscript to this letter, she tells Evelyn that she has sent him some rare plants. Thus, in the midst of her own distresses, she could bear in mind the peculiar tastes and occupations of her friend: and when we recollect his character, and that he was a friend of thirty years' standing, we cannot suppose this trifling, but delicate present, was intended to quicken Evelyn's zeal in their behalf, or that it could have weighed for a moment with such a man. However this may be, Lord Sunderland's contrition, his wife's supplications, and the intercession of his friends, proved effectual. He was suffered to reside unmolested at Utrecht for some months, and obtained permission to return to England the following year: but they were scarcely settled again at Althorpe, when the death of her 1 In the Collection of Mr. Upcott. 124 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II. favourite daughter, the young Countess of Arran, (in 1690,) overwhelmed Lady Sunderland with affliction. Evelyn wrote her on this occasion a long letter of condolence, which may be found in his works.1 Evelyn's simple yet cordial testimony to the exemplary conduct and domestic virtues of Lady Sunderland, may well be placed against the malicious scandal of a party. The letters of the Princess Anne to her sister the Princess of Orange, written at this period, allude to Lady Sunderland and her lord in terms of the most vulgar and virulent abuse f but we must remember that, besides her hatred and fear of Lord Sunderland, Anne had a private and personal reason for detesting his wife. An intimate friendship existed between Lady Sunderland and Lady Churchill, afterwards the celebrated Duchess of .Marlborough; and Anne, whose romantic attachment for Lady Churchill, was now at its height, beheld in Lady Sunderland a rival in the affections of her favourite. Her letters have been quoted as authority against Lady Sunderland; but besides that Anne was a weak fool, and a fond jealous friend, her evidence, suspicious under any circumstances, is .absolutely contradicted by the testimony of Evelyn, of Lady Eussell, and Lady Sunderland's own letters.3 In one of these, addressed to Evelyn, she begs his prayers, his sympathy for her lord, who writhing under conscious self-abasement, rejected by all parties, disgraced by the court, despised by the people, was in truth a pitiable object. " Forget not," she says, " forget not my lord in your prayers for his conversion, which if I could see, I could with comfort live in any part of the world on very little." She speaks of his penitence�his humiliation; and expresses a hope that he will be content to live with her 1 Vol. ii. p. 290. 2 " I cannot end my letter without telling you, that Lady Sunderland plays the hypocrite more than ever; for she goes to St. Martin's morning and afternoon, because there are not people enough to see her at Whitehall chapel, and is half an hour before other people come, and half an hour after everybody is gone at her private devotions. She runs from church to church after the famousest preachers, and keeps such a clatter with her devotions, that it really turns one's stomach. Sure there never was a couple so well matched as she and her good husband; for as she is the greatest jade that ever was, so is he the subtillest workingest villain that is on the face of the earth." Lord Sunderland had lately declared himself a Eoman Catholic, which probably made Lady Sunderland more frequent and attentive in her public devotions; a little malignity would easily turn this against her, and a little exaggeration render it remarkable or ridiculous. 3 Of these there are about thirty in the collection of Mr. Upcott, through whose kindness I had an opportunity of looking over them. They extend through a period of about twenty years, and convey, on the whole, a most delightful impression of her character, of the strength of her domestic affections, and the sincerity of her attachments. In the very beautiful Life of Lady Eussell, prefixed to the late edition of her letters, there is the following passage (page 101). " Lady Sunderland's letters to Lady Eussell are not extant; but the following expressions in her answer to one of them, ought to have forcibly struck Lady Sunderland from the pen of Lady Eussell:�' So unhappy a solicitor as I was once for my poor self and family, my heart misgives me when I aim at anything of that kind any more.' The rest of the letter proves, in the least offensive manner, that she was perfectly aware of the flattering and insincere character of her correspondent." On this passage I must remark, that the opinion against Lady Sunderland's sincerity has no foundation but in the letters of Queen Anne (quoted in the preceding note), and, as Lady Sunderland's historian, I must, in justice to her, place one or two passages from Lady Eussell's letters in contrast with the one above quoted. In 1689 she thus writes : I think I understand almost less than any body, yet I knew better things than to be weary of receiving what is so good as my Lady Sunderland's letters; or not to have a due regard of what is so valuable as her esteem and kindness, with her promises to enjoy it my whole life." And again, in a letter written about 1692, she says, " You have taken a resolution to be all goodness and favour to me: and, indeed, what greater mark can you almost give than remembering me so often, and letting me receive the exceeding advantage of your doing so, by reading your letters, which are all so edifying ?�when I know you are continually engaged in so great and necessary employments as you, are, and have but too imperfect health, which, to any other in the world but Lady Sunderland, would unfit for at least so great dispatches as you are charged with. These are most visible tokens of Providence, that every one that aims to do their duty shall be enabled to do it." (Lady Eussell to Lady Sunderland, Letters, pp. 252-302). If Lady Eussell believed her correspondent to be an insincere and flattering woman, what shall we say of the sentiments here expressed ?�that Lady Sunderland could not go beyond them in flattery and insincerity. There is a long letter from Lady Sunderland to the Prince of Orange, a masterpiece of diplomatic obscurity and affectation, inserted in Dalrymple's " Memoirs," and there said to have been written under the dictation of her husband; it cannot therefore be brought in evidence against her. THE COUNTESS OF SUNDERLAND. 125 in retirement: his latter years were indeed passed in retirement, but not in content. Before he left the court for the last time, he was heard to say, that " there was no rack like what he had suffered." This admission, coming from him in an agony, ought to be recorded as a legacy to those who view " the seals of office glitter in their eyes, and pant to grasp them!" Besides the friendship existing between Lady Sunderland and Lady Marlborough, there had been a constant interchange of kindness and good offices between the Earl of Sunderland and Lord Marlborough; and in the year 1701 the two families were united by the marriage of Lord Spencer with Lady Anne Churchill, the second and favourite daughter of Marlborough. She was particularly endeared to her parents�not by beauty alone, but by the extreme sweetness of her disposition, and a maturity of judgment above her years: and Lady Sunderland, who was her godmother, appears to have regarded her with exceeding tenderness and admiration long before the idea of uniting her to her son could possibly have entered into her imagination. Lord Spencer was at this time in his thirtieth year; he had a fine person and an admirable understanding, improved by early and assiduous study. " He was remarkable," says the historian of Marlborough, " for a sedateness above his years; but in him a bold and impetuous spirit was concealed under a cold and reserved exterior." Fresh from the study of Greek and Roman lore, he was almost a republican in politics, and had distinguished himself iii the House of Commons as an animated speaker in behalf of liberty in its best and largest sense. His deportment in private life was not winning, his father's errors had thrown him into an opposite extreme, in manners as in principles; instead of the bland elegance of address which distinguished the earl, Lord Spencer, wishing to avoid even the shadow of adulation, was either haughty and unbending; or blunt and frank to a degree almost offensive. He had been married young to Lady Arabella Cavendish, daughter of the Duke of Newcastle, and had lost her in childbirth after a short but happy union; her death had thrown a gloom over his mind, adding to the habitual coldness and harshness of his manners. In spite of all these drawbacks, he interested Lady Anne Churchill; but his violent politics displeased her father, and Lady Marlborough, who, termagant as she was, doated on her children even while she tormented them, feared lest her daughter's happiness should be sacrificed to a man of Lord Spencer's cold, unaccommodating temper. All these difficulties, in time, gave way before the zealous, indefatigable exertions of Lady Sunderland, who knew what were the feelings of her son, and sympathized in them with a mother's heart. She first won over Lady Marlborough, who prevailed on her husband to listen to the promise of the Earl of Sunderland, that his son should be guided in his public conduct by Lord Marlborough. The Earl overrated his son's docility, as it afterwards appeared; but for the present he prevailed, and the marriage was solemnized in January 1701, when Lady Anne was not quite sixteen. Thus Lady Sunderland had the satisfaction of ensuring the domestic happiness of her son in his union with a most amiable and lovely woman, whose charms and tenderness soothed down his asperities, and she was spared the pain of witnessing its early termination. This young and adored wife and mother died in 1716, in her twenty-ninth year: a most affecting proof of her angelic disposition and her devotion to her husband is preserved in the letter she wrote to be delivered to him after her death.1 As her person was of a small size, as well as very beautiful, she became a favourite and fashionable toast with her 1 Coxe's " History of the Duke of Marlborough/' vol. iii. p. 616. Q 126 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II husband's party, under the title of the little Whig. Her son Charles became afterwards Duke of Marlborough; and her son John, commonly called Jack Spencer, was the father of the first Earl Spencer. The second Earl of Sunderland died a broken-hearted man in 1702; but his widow, the Dowager Lady Sunderland, survived him for several years, living respected and beloved in the bosom of her family. At length she sank under the accumulated infirmities of age, and expired at Althorpe, April 16, 1715. She had lived to see her accomplished son, the third Earl of Sunderland, Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, Privy Seal, and Secretary of State; and as distinguished by his patriotism and integrity, as by his talents, activity, and ambition. The picture, from which the portrait is engraved, is by Lely, and one of the "Beauties/' in the Windsor Gallery; it is remarkable for the exceeding delicacy and tenderness of the execution, and the lady-like sweetness and elegance of the turn and expression. It has never before been engraved. MRS. MIDDLETON, DAUGHTER OF SIR ROGER NEEDHAM. MRS, MIDDLETON. " Pictures like these, dear Madam, to design, Asks no firm hand and no unerring line; Some wandering touches, some reflected light, Some flying touch, alone can hit them right." Pope. T is evident, from the number of portraits which exist of this " Beauty "par excellence, and the frequent allusions to her in contemporary memoirs, that she must have been a very admired and distinguished personage in her day; yet of her family and life but little is ascertained, and that little is not interesting. She is one of the equivocal heroines of De Grammont, and her brief history, as far as it is known, can hardly serve " to point a moral." And yet what is to be done?�to treat it seriously, were indeed to " break a butterfly upon a wheel;" she fluttered through her day " with insect pinions opening to the sun;" and, apparently, whatever was most admirable and interesting about her, has been preserved in the lovely pictures of her at Windsor and Althorpe. It is impossible to look on them without wishing to know who and what was the fair original. Yet if there had been no Lely, there would have been no Mrs, Middleton;�at least, we could have spared all that the pencil has not perpetuated. She was the daughter of Sir Roger Needham, a relation of the excellent and celebrated Evelyn; and married to Mr. Middleton, a man of good family but small fortune, of whom nothing is known but that he gave his name to a very beautiful coquette, who, under the shelter of that name, is said to have played some fantastic tricks. Mrs. Middleton was never attached to the court, nor had she rank or fortune to enable her to take any distinguished place there, but her charms, the admiration she inspired, her love of pleasure and her love of splendour, drew her within that brilliant but dangerous vortex. We find her associating habitually with many well known characters of her own sex, those who were distinguished for correctness of conduct, as well as those who were notorious for the reverse; and surrounded by admirers, the gayest and noblest cavaliers of that dissipated court. Among these was the Chevalier de Grammont: she appears to have been the first who attracted his notice $fter his arrival in England. " Then," says his gay historiographer, "lettres et pr^sens trotterent:"�the first were answered, the last not rejected. But the lover en restait la: the lady was not quite so facile as the gentleman expected. "II ^'apperijut que la belle prenait volontiers, mais qu'elle ne donnait que peu;" and, in his 128 COURT BEAUTIES�CHARLES II usual style, he seems to have taken pains to make himself hated where he failed in making himself loved. It appears, that in addition to her pretensions as a beauty, Mrs. Middleton affected the airs of a precieuse. She talked as if she had just arrived from that fantastic land the pays du tendre, so minutely described with all its districts, its river $ inclination, and its various villages of jolis-vers, and petits soins, &c. in the most famous romance of the time ;x but though she sometimes put her lovers to sleep by discoursing in a strain of the most refined sentimentalism, and discussing mal-a-propos the most high-flown maxims of Platonic gallantry, u the fair Madam Middleton," as Pepys calls her, is not accused of suffering her adorers to perish through an excess of cruelty. How the lively De Grammont could possibly have been captivated by a woman " qui ennuyait en voulant briller," we are not told: perhaps her indolent, languid beauty charmed him by force of contrast with the beauties he had left behind in France. However this may be, her trifling appears to have at length exasperated him; and finding, after awhile, that he had more than one competitor,�that young Ralph Montagu (afterwards Duke of Montagu) and Dick Jones (the celebrated Lord Ranelagh) were not only rivals, but, as he had reason to suspect, successful rivals, he was preparing for his faithless, or rather his ungrateful mistress, the most signal vengeance which his ingenious, indefatigable, and malicious nature could devise; when, happily for poor Mrs. Middleton, he encountered a more powerful charmer, and both his love and his despite were driven out of his eddying brain by the all-conquering attractions of La Belle Hamilton. It is said that the Duke of York also admired Mrs. Middleton (which may account for her picture being at Windsor;) and William Russell, brother to the Earl of Bedford, was another of her adorers: but he too transferred his allegiance from this indolent, alluring coquette, to the lively, graceful, elegant Miss Hamilton. De Grammont says of his ci-devant flame, that the ambition of appearing a wit, " ne lui a donne que la reputation d'ennuyeuse, qui subsistait longtemps apres sa beaut�." It must, then, have existed a long while, for nearly twenty years after this period, in 1683, she paid Evelyn a visit, in company with her old admirer Colonel Russell; and Evelyn mentions her as that "famous and indeed incomparable beauty Mrs. Middleton." Neither, as I think, should we entirely trust to the fidelity of De Grammont7s portrait of her: he was a malicious disappointed lover, and Hamilton, who records it, a satirist by profession. Pepys says, that Evelyn described Mrs. Middleton to him as fond of painting, and excelling in it; a pursuit which speaks her not quite the indolent, inane creature which others represent her. In one of the letters of Dorothy Lady Sunderland,2 (Waller's " Sacharissa,") she thus alludes incidentally to Mrs. Middleton, "Mrs. Middleton and I have lost old Waller; he is gone away frightened:" from which it appears that the poet, in his old age, had enlisted himself in the train of her admirers. With this " famous beauty," as with others of her class, a youth of folly was succeeded by an old age of cards. She became one of the society of the Duchess of Mazarin,3 whose 1 The Clelie of Mademoiselle de Scuderi. " There will he no talking to your sister when she has read Clelia, for the wi'se folks say it is the most improving book that can be read."�See Lady BusselVs Life, p. 94. 2 Letters from the Countess of Sunderland to the Earl of Halifax, published at the end of " Lady Kussell's Life and Letters." 3 The too celebrated Hortense Mancini, whose story is well known. She arrived in England in 1676, and lived on a pension of .�4,000 a year, granted her by Charles II. This sum was inadequate to supply her capricious extravagance, and her propensity to gambling; and after a life of strange vicissitudes and wanderings over half Europe, she died at MRS. MIDDLETON. 129 house at Chelsea was maintained on the footing of one of the modern gambling-houses, with this exception, that it was the resort of the dissipated and extravagant of both sexes. Many of the women who were occasionally seen in this society, were women of amiable character and spotless reputation, led thither by fashion, and the lax opinions and habits of the time; and probably more attracted by the fascinating manners of the duchess, and the wit and gaiety of St. Evremond, and by the " petits soupers ou r^gnait la plus grande liberty du monde et un �gale discretion," (if we may trust St. Evremond,) than by the bassette-table. It appears, for instance, that Lady Rochester, Lady Arlington, the Duchess of Grafton, Lady Derby, were visitors, if not habituees; but Mrs. Middleton was one of the latter. Among the occasional poems of St. Evremond there is a little piece which he entitles, " Une Sc&ie de Bassette," in which the interlocutors are Mrs. Middleton, Madame Mazarin, and Mr. Villiers. La Middleton is discussing with Villiers the charms of some rival beauties :� Mrs. Middleton. " Dites nous qui des deux vous seinble la plus belle De Mesdames Grafton et Litchfield ?x�laquelle ? Mr. Villiers. Commencez : dites nous, Madame Middleton, * Yotre vrai sentiment sur Madame Grafton. Mrs. Middleton. De deux doigts seulement faites-la moi plus grande, II faut qu'a sa beaute toute beaute se rende. Mr. Villiers. L'autre n'a pas besoin de cette faveur-la. Mrs. Middleton. Elle est grande, elle est droite� Mr. Villiers. Apres eel a ? Mrs. Middleton. Madame Litchfield un peu plus animee De tout ceux qu'elle voit se verrait fort aimee,"