Chapter CDLVII: Introduction (4)

[Robert Sydney, third son of the Earl of Leicester, and brother of
the famous Algernon Sydney, who was beheaded. This is Lord Orford's
account; though, on less authority, I should have been inclined to
have considered Henry Sydney, his younger brother, who was
afterwards created Earl of Rumney, and died 8th April, 1704, as the
person intended. There are some circumstances which seem
particularly to point to him. Burnet, speaking of him, says, "he
was a, graceful man, and had lived long in the court, where he lead
some adventures that became very public. He was a man of a sweet
and caressing temper, had no malice in his heart, but too great a
love of pleasure. He had been sent envoy to Holland in the year
1679, where he entered into such particular confidences with the
prince, that he had the highest measure of his trust and favour that
any Englishman ever had."--History of his Own Times, vol. ii., p.
494.

In the Essay on Satire, by Dryden and Mulgrave, he is spoken of in
no very decent terms.

"And little Sid, for simile renown'd,
Pleasure has always sought, but never found
Though all his thoughts on wine and women fall,
His are so bad, sure he ne'er thinks at all.
The flesh he lives upon is rank and strong;
His meat and mistresses are kept too long.
But sure we all mistake this pious man,
Who mortifies his person all he can
What we uncharitably take for sin,
Are only rules of this odd capuchin;
For never hermit, under grave pretence,
Has lived more contrary to common sense."

These verses, however, have been applied to Sir Charles Sedley,
whose name was originally spelt Sidley. Robert Sydney died at
Pensburst, 1674.]

had not sufficient vivacity to support the impression which his figure made; but little Jermyn was on all sides successful in his intrigues. The old Earl of St. Albans, his uncle, had for a long time adopted him, though the youngest of all his nephews. It is well known what a table the good man kept at Paris, while the King his master was starving at Brussels, and the Queen Dowager, his mistress, lived not over well in France.

[To what a miserable state the queen was reduced may be seen in the
following extract from De Retz.--"Four or five days before the king
removed from Paris, I went to visit the Queen of England, whom I
found in her daughter's chamber, who hath been since Duchess of
Orleans. At my coming in she said, 'You see I am come to keep
Henrietta company. The poor child could not rise to-day for want of
a fire.' The truth is, that the cardinal for six months together
had not ordered her any money towards her pension; that no
trades-people would trust her for anything; and that there was not at
her lodgings in the Louvre one single billet. You will do me the
justice to suppose that the Princess of England did not keep her bed
the next day for want of a faggot; but it was not this which the
Princess of Conde meant in her letter. What she spoke about was,
that some days after my visiting the Queen of England, I remembered
the condition I had found her in, and had strongly represented the
shame of abandoning her in that manner, which caused the parliament
to send 40,000 livres to her majesty. Posterity will hardly believe
that a Princess of England, grand-daughter of Henry the Great, hath
wanted a faggot, in the month of January, to get out of bed in the
Louvre, and in the eyes of a French court. We read in histories,
with horror, of baseness less monstrous than this; and the little
concern I have met with about it in most people's minds, has obliged
me to make, I believe, a thousand times, this reflection,--that
examples of times past move men beyond comparison more than those of
their own times. We accustom ourselves to what we see; and I have
sometimes told you, that I doubted whether Caligula's horse being
made a consul would have surprised us so much as we imagine."
--Memoirs, vol. i., p. 261. As for the relative situation of the king
and Lord Jermyn, (afterwards St. Albans,) Lord Clarendon says, that
the "Marquis of Ormond was compelled to put himself in prison, with
other gentlemen, at a pistole a-week for his diet, and to walk the
streets a-foot, which was no honourable custom in Paris, whilst the
Lord Jermyn kept an excellent table for those who courted him, and
had a coach of his own, and all other accommodations incident to the
most full fortune: and if the king had the most urgent occasion for
the use but of twenty pistoles, as sometimes he had, he could not
find credit to borrow it, which he often had experiment of."
--History of the Rebellion, vol. iii., p. 2.]

Jermyn, supported by his uncle's wealth, found it no difficult matter to make a considerable figure upon his arrival at the court of the Princess of Orange: the poor courtiers of the king her brother could not vie with him in point of equipage and magnificence; and these two articles often produce as much success in love as real merit: there is no necessity for any other example than the present; for though Jermyn was brave, and certainly a gentleman, yet he had neither brilliant actions, nor distinguished rank, to set him off; and as for his fibre, there was nothing advantageous in it. He was little: his head was large and his legs small; his features were not disagreeable, but he was affected in his carriage and behaviour. All his wit consisted in expressions learnt by rote, which he occasionally employed either in raillery, or in love. This was the whole foundation of the merit of a man so formidable in amours.

The Princess Royal was the first who was taken with him: Miss Hyde seemed to be following the steps of her mistress: this immediately brought him into credit, and his reputation was established in England before his arrival. Prepossession in the minds of women is sufficient to find access to their hearts: Jermyn found them in dispositions so favourable for him, that he had nothing to do but to speak.

It was in vain they perceived that a reputation so lightly established, was still more weakly sustained: the prejudice remained: the Countess of Castlemaine, a woman lively and discerning followed the delusive shadow; and though undeceived in a reputation which promised so much, and performed so little, she nevertheless continued in her infatuation: she even persisted in it, until she was upon the point of embroiling herself with the King; so great was this first instance of her constancy.

Such were the heroes of the court. As for the beauties, you could not look anywhere without seeing them: those of the greatest reputation were this same Countess of Castlemaine, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland, Lady Chesterfield, Lady Shrewsbury, the Mrs. Roberts, Mrs. Middleton, the Misses Brooks, and a thousand others, who shone at court with equal lustre; but it was Miss Hamilton and Miss Stewart who were its chief ornaments.

[Lady Shrewsbury: Anna, Maria, Countess of Shrewsbury, eldest
daughter of Robert Brudenel, Earl of Cardigan, and wife of Francis,
Earl of Shrewsbury, who was killed in a duel by George, Duke of
Buckingham, March 16, 1667. She afterwards re-married with George
Rodney Bridges, Esq., second son of Sir Thomas Bridges of Keynsham,
in Somersetshire, knight, and died April 20, 1702. By her second
husband she had one son, George Rodney Bridges, who died in 1751.
This woman is said to have been so abandoned, as to have held, in
the habit of a page, her gallant, the duke's horse, while he fought
and killed her husband; after which she went to bed with him,
stained with her husband's blood.]

The new queen gave but little additional brilliancy to the court, either in her person or in her retinue, which was then composed of the Countess de Panetra, who came over with her in quality of lady of the bedchamber; six frights, who called themselves maids of honour, and a duenna, another monster, who took the title of governess to those extraordinary beauties.

[Lord Clarendon confirms, in some measure, this account. "There
was a numerous family of men and women, that were sent from
Portugal, the most improper to promote that conformity in the queen
that was necessary for her condition and future happiness that could
be chosen; the women, for the most part, old, and ugly, and proud,
incapable of any conversation with persons of quality and a liberal
education: and they desired, and indeed had conspired so far to
possess the queen themselves, that she should neither learn the
English language, nor use their habit, nor depart from the manners
and fashions of her own country in any particulars: which
resolution," they told, "would be for the dignity of Portugal, and
would quickly induce the English ladies to conform to her majesty's
practice. And this imagination had made that impression, that the
tailor who had been sent into Portugal to make her clothes could
never be admitted to see her, or receive any employment. Nor when
she came to Portsmouth, and found there several ladies of honour and
prime quality to attend her in the places to which they were
assigned by the king, did she receive any of them till the king
himself came; nor then with any grace, or the liberty that belonged
to their places and offices. She could not be persuaded to be
dressed out of the wardrobe that the king had sent to her, but would
wear the clothes which she had brought, until she found that the
king was displeased, and would be obeyed; whereupon she conformed,
against the advice of her women, who continued their opiniatrety,
without any one of them receding from their own mode, which exposed
them the more to reproach."--Continuation of Clarendon's Life, p.
168. In a short time after their arrival in England, they were
ordered back to Portugal.]

Among the men were Francisco de Melo, brother to the Countess de Panetra; one Taurauvedez, who called himself Don Pedro Francisco Correo de Silva, extremely handsome, but a greater fool than all the Portuguese put together: he was more vain of his names than of his person; but the Duke of Buckingham, a still greater fool than he, though more addicted to raillery, gave him the additional name of Peter of the Wood. He was so enraged at this, that, after many fruitless complaints and ineffectual menaces, poor Pedro de Silva was obliged to leave England, while the happy duke kept possession of a Portuguese nymph more hideous than the queen's maids of honour, whom he had taken from him, as well as two of his names. Besides these, there were six chaplains, four bakers, a Jew perfumer, and a certain officer, probably without an office, who called himself her highness's barber. Katharine de Braganza was far from appearing with splendour in the charming court where she came to reign; however, in the end she was pretty successful.

[Lord Clarendon says, "the queen had beauty and wit enough to make
herself agreeable to him (the king); and it is very certain, that,
at their first meeting, and for some time after, the King had very
good satisfaction in her. . . . Though she was of years enough
to have had more experience of the world, and of as much wit as
could be wished, and of a humour very agreeable at some seasons,
yet, she had been bred, according to the mode and discipline of her
country, in a monastery, where she had only seen the women who
attended her, and conversed with the religious who resided there;
and, without doubt, in her inclinations, was enough disposed to have
been one of that number: and from this restraint she was called out
to be a great queen, and to a free conversation in a court that was
to be upon the matter new formed, and reduced from the manners of a
licentious age to the old rules and limits which had been observed
in better times; to which regular and decent conformity the present
disposition of men or women was not enough inclined to submit, nor
the king enough disposed to exact."--Continuation of Lord
Clarendon's Life, p. 167. After some struggle, she submitted to the
king's licentious conduct, and from that time lived upon easy terms
with him, until his death. On the 30th March, 1692, she left
Somerset-house, her usual residence, and retired to Lisbon, where
she died, 31st December, 1705, N. S.]

The Chevalier de Grammont, who had been long known to the royal family, and to most of the gentlemen of the court, had only to get acquainted with the ladies; and for this he wanted no interpreter: they all spoke French enough to explain themselves, and they all understood it sufficiently to comprehend what he had to say to them.

The queen's court was always very numerous; that of the duchess was less so, but more select. This princess had a majestic air, a pretty good shape, not much beauty, a great deal of wit, and so just a discernment of merit, that, whoever of either sex were possessed of it, were sure to be distinguished by her: an air of grandeur in all her actions made her be considered as if born to support the rank: which placed her so near the throne.

["The Duchess of York," says Bishop Burnet, "was a very
extraordinary woman. She had great knowledge, and a lively sense of
things. She soon understood what belonged to a princess, and took
state on her rather too much. She wrote well, and had begun the
duke's life, of which she showed me a volume. It was all drawn from
his journal; and he intended to have employed me in carrying it on.
She was bred in great strictness in religion, and practised secret
confession. Morley told me he was her confessor. She began at
twelve years old, and continued under his direction till, upon her
father's disgrace, he was put from the court. She was generous and
friendly, but was too severe an enemy."-history of his Own Times,
vol. i., p. 237. She was contracted to the duke at Breda,
November 24, 1659, and married at Worcester-house, 3rd September,
1660, in the night, between eleven and two, by Dr. Joseph Crowther,
the duke's chaplain; the Lord Ossory giving her in marriage.
--Kennet's Register, p. 246. She died 31st March, 1671, having
previously acknowledged herself to be a Roman Catholic.--See also
her character by Bishop Morley.--Kennet's Register, p. 385, 390.]

The queen dowager returned after the marriage of the princess royal, and it was in her court that the two others met.

The Chevalier de Grammont was soon liked by all parties those who had not known him before were surprised to see a Frenchman of his disposition. The king's restoration having drawn a great number of foreigners from all countries to the court, the French were rather in disgrace; for, instead of any persons of distinction having appeared among the first who came over, they had only seen some insignificant puppies, each striving to outdo the other in folly and extravagance, despising everything which was not like themselves, and thinking they introduced the 'bel air', by treating the English as strangers in their own country.

The Chevalier de Grammont, on the contrary, was familiar with everybody: he gave in to their customs, eat of everything, and easily habituated himself to their manner of living, which he looked upon as neither vulgar nor barbarous; and as he showed a natural complaisance, instead of the impertinent affectation of the others, all the nation was charmed with a man, who agreeably indemnified them for what they had suffered from the folly of the former.

He first of all made his court to the king, and was of all his parties of pleasure: he played high, and lost but seldom: he found so little difference in the manners and conversation of those with whom he chiefly associated, that he could scarcely believe he was out of his own country. Everything which could agreeably engage a man of his disposition, presented itself to his different humours, as if the pleasures of the court of France had quitted it to accompany him in his exile.

He was every day engaged for some entertainment; and those who wished to regale him in their turn, were obliged to take their measures in time, and to invite him eight or ten days before hand. These importunate civilities became tiresome in the long run; but as they seemed indispensable to a man of his disposition, and as they were the most genteel people of the court who loaded him with them, he submitted with a good grace; but always reserved to himself the liberty of supping at home.

His supper hour depended upon play, and was indeed very uncertain; but his supper was always served up with the greatest elegance, by the assistance of one or two servants, who were excellent caterers and good attendants, but understood cheating still better.

The company, at these little entertainments, was not numerous, but select: the first people of the court were commonly of the party; but the man, who of all others suited him best on these occasions, never failed to attend: that was the celebrated Saint Evremond, who with great exactness, but too great freedom, had written the history of the treaty of the Pyrenees: an exile like himself, though for very different reasons.

Happily for them both, fortune had, some time before the arrival of the Chevalier de Grammont, brought Saint Evremond to England, after he had had leisure to repent in Holland of the beauties of that famous satire.

[Charles de St. Denis, Seigneur de Saint Evremond, was born at St.
Denis le Guast, in Lower Normandy, on the 1st of April, 1613. He
was educated at Paris, with a view to the profession of the law; but
he early quitted that pursuit, and went into the army, where he
signalized himself on several occasions. At the time of the
Pyrenean treaty, he wrote a letter censuring the conduct of Cardinal
Mazarin, which occasioned his being banished France. He first took
refuge in Holland; but, in 1662, he removed into England, where he
continued, with a short interval, during the rest of his life. In
1675, the Duchess of Mazarin came to reside in England; and with her
St. Evremond passed much of his time. He preserved his health and
cheerfulness to a very great age, and died 9th of September, 1703,
aged ninety years, five months, and twenty days. His biographer
Monsieur Des Maizeaux, describes him thus: "M. de St. Evremond had
blue, lively, and sparkling eyes, a large forehead, thick eyebrows,
a handsome mouth, and a sneering physiognomy. Twenty years before
his death, a wen grew between his eye-brows, which in time increased
to a considerable bigness. He once designed to have it cut off, but
as it was no ways troublesome to him, and he little regarded that
kind of deformity, Dr. Le Fevre advised him to let it alone, lest
such an operation should be attended with dangerous symptoms in a
man of his age. He would often make merry with himself on account
of his wen, his great leather cap, and grey hair, which he chose to
wear rather than a periwig." St. Evremond was a kind of Epicurean
philosopher, and drew his own character in the following terms, in a
letter to Count de Grammont. He was a philosopher equally removed
from superstition and impiety; a voluptuary who had no less aversion
from debauchery than inclination for pleasure: a man who had never
felt the pressure of indigence, and who had never been in possession
of affluence: he lived in a condition despised by those who have
everything, envied by those who have nothing, and relished by those
who make their reason the foundation of their happiness. When he
was young he hated profusion, being persuaded that some degree of
wealth was necessary for the conveniencies of a long life: when he
was old, he could hardly endure economy, being of opinion that want
is little to be dreaded when a man has but little time left to be
miserable. He was well pleased with nature, and did not complain of
fortune. He hated vice, was indulgent to frailties, and lamented
misfortunes. He sought not after the failings of men with a design
to expose them; he only found what was ridiculous in them for his
own amusement: he had a secret pleasure in discovering this himself,
and would, indeed, have had a still greater in discovering this to
others, had not he been checked by discretion. Life, in his
opinion, was too short to read all sorts of books, and to burden
one's memory with a multitude of things, at the expense of one's
judgment. He did not apply himself to the most learned writings, in
order to acquire knowledge, but to the most rational, to fortify his
reason: he sometimes chose the most delicate, to give delicacy to
his own taste, and sometimes the most agreeable, to give the same to
his own genius. It remains that he should be described, such as he
was, in friendship and in religion. In friendship he was more
constant than a philosopher, and more sincere than a young man of
good nature without experience. With regard to religion, his piety
consisted more in justice and charity than in penance or
mortification. He placed his confidence in God, trusting in His
goodness, and hoping that in the bosom of His providence he should
find his repose and his felicity."--He was buried in Westminster
Abbey.]

The Chevalier was from that time his hero: they had each of them attained to all the advantages which a knowledge of the world, and the society of people of fashion, could add to the improvement of good natural talents. Saint Evremond, less engaged in frivolous pursuits, frequently gave little lectures to the Chevalier, and by making observations upon the past, endeavoured to set him right for the present, or to instruct him for the future. "You are now," said he, "in the most agreeable way of life a man of your temper could wish for: you are the delight of a youthful, sprightly, and gallant court: the king has never a party of pleasure to which you are not admitted. You play from morning to night, or, to speak more properly, from night to morning, without knowing what it is to lose. Far from losing the money you brought hither, as you have done in other places, you have doubled it, trebled it, multiplied it almost beyond your wishes, notwithstanding the exorbitant expenses you are imperceptibly led into. This, without doubt, is the most desirable situation in the, world: stop here, Chevalier, and do not ruin your affairs by returning to your old sins. Avoid love, by pursuing other pleasures: love has never been favourable to you.

["Saint Evremond and Bussi-Rabutin, who have also written on the
life of the Count de Grammont, agree with Hamilton in representing
him as a man less fortunate in love than at play; not seeking for
any other pleasure in the conquest of a woman but that of depriving
another of her; and not able to persuade any one of his passion,
because he spoke to her, as at all other times, in jest: but cruelly
revenging himself on those who refused to hear him; corrupting the
servants of those whom they did favour, counterfeiting their
handwriting, intercepting their letters, disconcerting their
rendezvous; in one word, disturbing their amours by everything which
a rival, prodigal, indefatigable, and full of artifice, can be
imagined to do. The straitest ties of blood could not secure any
one from his detraction. His nephew, the Count de Guiche, was a
victim: he had in truth, offended the Count de Grammont, by having
supplanted him in the affection of the Countess de Fiesque, whom he
loved afterwards for the space of twelve years. Here was enough to
irritate the self-love of a man less persuaded of his own merit."
Hamilton does not describe the exterior of the count, but accuses
Bussi-Rabutin of having, in the following description, given a more
agreeable than faithful portrait of him: "The chevalier had laughing
eyes, a well-formed nose, a beautiful mouth, a small dimple in the
chin, which had an agreeable effect on his countenance, a certain
delicacy in his physiognomy, and a handsome shape, if he had not
stooped."]

"You are sensible how much gallantry has cost you; and every person here is not so well acquainted with that matter as yourself. Play boldly: entertain the court with your wit: divert the king by your ingenious and entertaining stories; but avoid all engagements which can deprive you of this merit, and make you forget you are a stranger and an exile in this delightful country.

"Fortune may bow weary of befriending you at play. What would have become of you, if your last misfortune had happened to you when your money had been at as low an ebb as I have known it? Attend carefully then to this necessary deity, and renounce the other. You will be missed at the court of France before you grow weary of this; but be that as it may, lay up a good store of money: when a man is rich he consoles himself for his banishment. I know you well, my dear Chevalier: if you take it into your head to seduce a lady, or to supplant a lover, your gains at play will by no means suffice for presents and for bribes: no, let play be as productive to you as it can be, you will never gain so much by it as you will lose by love, if you yield to it.

"You are in possession of a thousand splendid qualifications which distinguish you here: generous, benevolent, elegant, and polite; and for your engaging wit, inimitable. Upon a strict examination, perhaps, all this would not be found literally true; but these are brilliant marks; and since it is granted that you possess them, do not show yourself here in any other light: for, in love, if your manner of paying your addresses can be so denominated, you do not in the least resemble the picture I have just now drawn."

"My little philosophical monitor," said the Chevalier de Grammont, "you talk here as if you were the Cato of Normandy." "Do I say anything untrue?" replied Saint Evremond: "Is it not a fact, that as soon as a woman pleases you, your first care is to find out whether she has any other lover, and your second how to plague her; for the gaining her affection is the last thing in your thoughts. You seldom engage in intrigues, but to disturb the happiness of others: a mistress who has no lovers would have no charms for you, and if she has, she would be invaluable. Do not all the places through which you have passed furnish me with a thousand examples? Shall I mention your coup d'essai at Turin? the trick you played at Fontainebleau, where you robbed the Princess Palatine's courier upon the highway? and for what purpose was this fine exploit, but to put you in possession of some proofs of her affection for another, in order to give her uneasiness and confusion by reproaches and menaces, which you had no right to use?

"Who but yourself ever took it into his head to place himself in ambush upon the stairs, to disturb a man in an intrigue, and to pull him back by the leg when he was half way up to his mistress's chamber? yet did not you use your friend the Duke of Buckingham in this manner, when he was stealing at night to------although you were not in the least his rival? How many spies did not you send out after d'Olonne?

[Mademoiselle de la Loupe, who is mentioned in De Retz's Memoirs,
vol. iii., p. 95. She married the Count d'Olonne, and became
famous for her gallantries, of which the Count de Bussi speaks so
much, in his History of the Amours of the Gauls. Her maiden name
was Catherine Henrietta d'Angennes, and she was daughter to Charles
d'Angennes, Lord of la Loupe, Baron of Amberville, by Mary du
Raynier. There is a long character of her by St. Evremond, in his
works, vol. i., p. 17. The same writer, mentioning the concern of
some ladies for the death of the Duke of Candale, says, "But his
true mistress (the Countess d'Olonne) made herself famous by the
excess of her affliction, and had, in my opinion, been happy, if she
had kept it on to the last. One amour is creditable to a lady; and
I know not whether it be not more advantageous to their reputation
than never to have been in love."--St. Evremond's works, vol. ii.,
p. 24.]

"How many tricks, frauds, and persecutions, did you not practise for the Countess de Fiesque, who perhaps might have been constant to you, if you had not yourself forced her to be otherwise? But, to conclude, for the enumeration of your iniquities would be endless, give me leave to ask you, how you came here? Are not we obliged to that same evil genius of yours, which rashly inspired you to intermeddle even in the gallantries of your prince? Show some discretion then on this point here, I beseech you; all the beauties of the court are already engaged; and however docile the English may be with respect to their wives, they can by no means bear the inconstancy of their mistresses, nor patiently suffer the advantages of a rival: suffer them therefore to remain in tranquillity, and do not gain their ill-will for no purpose.

"You certainly will meet with no success with such as are unmarried: honourable views, and good landed property, are required here; and you possess as much of the one as the other. Every country has its customs: in Holland, unmarried ladies are of easy access, and of tender dispositions; but as soon as ever they are married, they become like so many Lucretias: in France, the women are great coquettes before marriage, and still more so afterwards; but here it is a miracle if a young lady yields to any proposal but that of matrimony and I do not believe you yet so destitute of grace as to think of that."

Such were Saint Evremond's lectures; but they were all to no purpose: the Chevalier de Grammont only attended to them for his amusement; and though he was sensible of the truth they contained, he paid little regard to them: in fact, being weary of the favours of fortune, he had just resolved to pursue those of love.

Mrs. Middleton was the first whom he attacked: she was one of the Handsomest women in town, though then little known at court: so much of the coquette as to discourage no one; and so great was her desire of appearing magnificently, that she was ambitious to vie with those of the greatest fortunes, though unable to support the expense. All this suited the Chevalier de Grammont; therefore, without trifling away his time in useless ceremonies, he applied to her porter for admittance, and chose one of her lovers for his confidant.

This lover, who was not deficient in wit, was at that time a Mr. Jones, afterwards Earl of Ranelagh: what engaged him to serve the Chevalier de Grammont, was to traverse the designs of a most dangerous rival, and to relieve himself from an expense which began to lie too heavy upon him. In both respects the Chevalier answered his purpose.

Immediately spies were placed, letters and presents flew about: he was received as well as he could wish: he was permitted to ogle: he was even ogled again; but this was all. He found that the fair one was very willing to accept, but was tardy in making returns. This induced him, without giving up his pretensions to her, to seek his fortune elsewhere.

Among the queen's maids of honour, there was one called Warmestre: she was a beauty very different from the other. Mrs. Middleton was well made, fair, and delicate; but had in her behaviour and discourse something precise and affected. The indolent languishing airs she gave herself did not please everybody: people grew weary of those sentiments of delicacy, which she endeavoured to explain without understanding them herself; and instead of entertaining she became tiresome. In these attempts she gave herself so much trouble, that she made the company uneasy, and her ambition to pass for a wit, only established her the reputation of being tiresome, which lasted much longer than her beauty.

Miss Warmestre was brown: she had no shape at all, and still less air; but she had a very lively complexion, very sparkling eyes, tempting looks, which spared nothing that might ensnare a lover, and promised everything which could preserve him. In the end, it very plainly appeared that her consent went along with her eyes to the last degree of indiscretion.

It was between these two goddesses that the inclinations of the Chevalier de Grammont stood wavering, and between whom his presents were divided. Perfumed gloves, pocket looking-glasses, elegant boxes, apricot paste, essences, and other small wares of love, arrived every week from Paris, with some new suit for himself; but, with regard to more solid presents, such as ear-rings, diamonds, brilliants, and bright guineas, all this was to be met with of the best sort in London, and the ladies were as well pleased with them as if they had been brought from abroad.

Miss Stewart's beauty began at this time to be celebrated.

[Frances, Duchess of Richmond, daughter of Walter Stewart, son of
Walter, Baron of Blantyre, and wife of Charles Stewart, Duke of
Richmond and Lennox: a lady of exquisite beauty, if justly
represented in a puncheon made by Roettiere, his majesty's engraver
of the mint, in order to strike a medal of her, which exhibits the
finest face that perhaps was ever seen. The king was supposed to be
desperately in love with her; and it became common discourse, that
there was a design on foot to get him divorced from the queen, in
order to marry this lady. Lord Clarendon was thought to have
promoted the match with the Duke of Richmond, thereby to prevent the
other design, which he imagined would hurt the king's character,
embroil his affairs at present, and entail all the evils of a
disputed succession on the nation. Whether he actually encouraged
the Duke of Richmond's marriage, doth not appear; but it is certain
that he was so strongly possessed of the king's inclination to a
divorce, that, even after his disgrace, he was persuaded the Duke of
Buckingham had under taken to carry that matter through the
parliament. It is certain too that the king considered him as the
chief promoter of Miss Stewart's marriage, and resented it in the
highest degree. (See Pepys' Diaries. Ed.) The ceremony took place
privately, and it was publicly declared in April, 1667. From one of
Sir Robert Southwell's dispatches, dated Lisbon, December ?/12,
1667, it appears that the report of the queen's intended divorce had
not then subsided in her native country.--History of the Revolutions
of Portugal, 1740, p. 352. The duchess became a widow in 1672, and
died October 15, 1702. See Burnet's History, Ludlow's Memoirs, and
Carte's Life of the Duke of Ormond. A figure in wax of this duchess
is still to be seen in Westminster-abbey.]

The Countess of Castlemaine perceived that the king paid attention to her; but, instead of being alarmed at it, she favoured, as far as she was able, this new inclination, whether from an indiscretion common to all those who think themselves superior to the rest of mankind, or whether she designed, by this pastime, to divert the king's attention from the commerce which she held with Jermyn. She was not satisfied with appearing without any degree of uneasiness at a preference which all the court began to remark: she even affected to make Miss Stewart her favourite, and invited her to all the entertainments she made for the king; and, in confidence of her own charms, with the greatest indiscretion, she often kept her to sleep. The king, who seldom neglected to visit the countess before she rose, seldom failed likewise to find Miss Stewart in bed with her. The most indifferent objects have charms in a new attachment: however, the imprudent countess was not jealous of this rival's appearing with her, in such a situation, being confident, that whenever she thought fit, she could triumph over all the advantages which these opportunities could afford Miss Stewart; but she was quite mistaken.

The Chevalier de Grammont took notice of this conduct, without being able to comprehend it; but, as he was attentive to the inclinations of the king, he began to make his court to him, by enhancing the merit of this new mistress. Her figure was more showy than engaging: it was hardly possible for a woman to have less wit, or more beauty: all her features were fine and regular; but her shape was not good: yet she was slender, straight enough, and taller than the generality of women: she was very graceful, danced well, and spoke French better than her mother tongue: she was well bred, and possessed, in perfection, that air of dress which is so much admired, and which cannot be attained, unless it be taken when young, in France. While her charms were gaining ground in the king's heart, the Countess of Castlemaine amused herself in the gratification of all her caprices.

Mrs. Hyde was one of the first of the beauties who were prejudiced with a blind prepossession in favour of Jermyn she had just married a man whom she loved: by this marriage she became sister-in-law to the duchess, brilliant by her own native lustre, and full of pleasantry and wit. However, she was of opinion, that so long as she was not talked of on account of Jermyn, all her other advantages would avail nothing for her glory: it was, therefore, to receive this finishing stroke, that she resolved to throw herself into his arms.

She was of a middle size, had a skin of a dazzling whiteness, fine hands, and a foot surprisingly beautiful, even in England: long custom had given such a languishing tenderness to her looks, that she never opened her eyes but like a Chinese; and, when she ogled, one would have thought she was doing something else.

Jermyn accepted of her at first; but, being soon puzzled what to do with her, he thought it best to sacrifice her to Lady Castlemaine. The sacrifice was far from being displeasing to her; it was much to her glory to have carried off Jermyn from so many competitors; but this was of no consequence in the end.

Jacob Hall (the famous rope-dancer) was at that time in vogue in London; his strength and agility charmed in public, even to a wish to know what he was in private; for he appeared, in his tumbling dress, to be quite of a different make, and to have limbs very different from the fortunate Jermyn.

["There was a symmetry and elegance, as well as strength and
agility, in the person of Jacob Hall, which was much admired by the
ladies, who regarded him as a due composition of Hercules and
Adonis. The open-hearted Duchess of Cleveland was said to have been
in love with this rope-dancer and Goodman the player at the same
time. The former received a salary from her grace."--Granger, vol.
ii., part 2, p. 461. In reference to the connection between the
duchess and the ropedancer, Mr. Pope introduced the following lines
into his "Sober Advice from Horace:"

"What push'd poor E--s on th' imperial whore?
'Twas but to be where Charles had been before,
The fatal steel unjustly was apply'd,
When not his lust offended, but his pride
Too hard a penance for defeated sin,
Himself shut out, and Jacob Hall let in."]

The tumbler did not deceive Lady Castlemaine's expectations, if report may be believed; and as was intimated in many a song, much more to the honour of the rope-dancer than of the countess; but she despised all these rumours, and only appeared still more handsome.

While satire thus found employment at her cost, there were continual contests for the favours of another beauty, who was not much more niggardly in that way than herself; this was the Countess of Shrewsbury.

The Earl of Arran, who had been one of her first admirers, was not one of the last to desert her; this beauty, less famous for her conquests than for the misfortunes she occasioned, placed her greatest merits in being more capricious than any other. As no person could boast of being the only one in her favour; so no person could complain of having been ill received.

Jermyn was displeased that she had made no advances to him, without considering that she had no leisure for it; his pride was offended; but the attempt which he made to take her from the rest of her lovers was very ill-advised.

Thomas Howard, brother to the Earl of Carlisle, was one of them; there was not a braver, nor a more genteel man in England; and though he was of a modest demeanour, and his manners appeared gentle and pacific, no person was more spirited nor more passionate. Lady Shrewsbury, inconsiderately returning the first ogles of the invincible Jermyn, did not at all make herself more agreeable to Howard; that, however, she paid little attention to; yet, as she designed to keep fair with him, she consented to accept an entertainment which he had often proposed, and which she durst no longer refuse. A place of amusement, called Spring Garden,--was fixed upon for the scene of this entertainment.

As soon as the party was settled, Jermyn was privately informed of it. Howard had a company in the regiment of guards, and one of the soldiers of his company played pretty well on the bagpipes; this soldier was therefore at the entertainment. Jermyn was at the garden, as by chance; and, puffed up with his former successes, he trusted to his victorious air for accomplishing this last enterprise; he no sooner appeared on the walks, than her ladyship showed herself upon the balcony.

I know not how she stood affected to her hero; but Howard did not fancy him much; this did not prevent his coming up stairs upon the first sign she made to him; and not content with acting the petty tyrant, at an entertainment not made for himself, no sooner had he gained the soft looks of the fair one, than he exhausted all his common-place, and all his stock of low irony, in railing at the entertainment, and ridiculing the music.

[Spring Garden: They stay there so long as if they wanted not time
to finish the race; for it is usual here to find some of the young
company till midnight; and the thickets of the garden seem to be
contrived to all advantages of gallantry, after they have refreshed
with the collation, which is here seldom omitted, at a certain
cabaret, in the middle of this paradise, where the forbidden fruits
are certain trifling tarts, newts' tongues, spacious meats, and bad
Rhenish, for which the gallants pay sauce, as indeed they do at all
such houses throughout England; for they think it a piece of
frugality beneath them to bargain or account for what they eat in
any place, however unreasonably imposed upon.''-Character of
England, 12mo., 1659, p. 56, written, it is said, by John Evelyn,
Esq. Spring Garden is the scene of intrigue in many of our comedies
of this period.]

Howard possessed but little raillery, and still less patience; three times was the banquet on the point of being stained with blood; but three times did he suppress his natural impetuosity, in order to satisfy his resentment elsewhere with greater freedom.

Jermyn, without paying the least attention to his ill-humour, pursued his point, continued talking to Lady Shrewsbury, and did not leave her until the repast was ended.

He went to bed, proud of this triumph, and was awakened next morning by a challenge. He took for his second Giles Rawlings, a man of intrigue, and a deep player. Howard took Dillon, who was dexterous and brave, much of a gentleman, and, unfortunately, an intimate friend to Rawlings.

In this duel fortune did not side with the votaries of love poor Rawlings was left stone dead; and Jermyn, having received three wounds, was carried to his uncle's, with very little signs of life.

While the report of this event engaged the courtiers according to their several interests, the Chevalier de Grammont was informed by Jones, his friend, his confidant, and his rival, that there was another gentleman very attentive to Mrs. Middleton: this was Montagu, no very dangerous rival on account of his person, but very much to be feared for his assiduity, the acuteness of his wit, and for some other talents which are of importance, when a man is once permitted to display them.

There needed not half so much to bring into action all the Chevalier's vivacity, in point of competition: vexation awakened in him whatever expedients the desire of revenge, malice, and experience, could suggest, for troubling the designs of a rival, and tormenting a mistress. His first intention was to return her letters, and demand his presents, before he began to tease her; but, rejecting this project, as too weak a revenge for the injustice done him, he was upon the point of conspiring the destruction of poor Mrs. Middleton, when, by accident, he met with Miss Hamilton. From this moment ended all his resentment against Mrs. Middleton, and all his attachment to Miss Warmestre: no longer was he inconstant: no longer were his wishes fluctuating: this object fixed them all; and, of all his former habits, none remained, except uneasiness and jealousy.

Here his first care was to please; but he very plainly saw, that to succeed he must act quite in a different manner to that which he had been accustomed to.

The family of the Hamiltons, being very numerous, lived in a large and commodious house, near the court: the Duke of Ormond's family was continually with them; and here persons of the greatest distinction in London, constantly met: the Chevalier de Grammont was here received in a manner agreeable to his merit and quality, and was astonished that he had spent so much time in other places; for, after having made this acquaintance, he was desirous of no other.

All the world agreed that Miss Hamilton was worthy of the most ardent and sincere affection: nobody could boast a nobler birth, nothing was more charming than her person.

[Elizabeth, sister of the author of these Memoirs, and daughter of
Sir George Hamilton, fourth son of James, the first Earl of
Abercorn, by Mary, third daughter of Thomas, Viscount Thurles,
eldest son of Walter, eleventh Earl of Ormond, and sister to James,
the first Duke of Ormond. She married Philibert, Count of Grammont,
the hero of these Memoirs, by whom she had two daughters: Claude
Charlotte, married, 3rd April, 1694, to Henry, Earl of Stafford; and
another, who became superior, or abbess, of the Canonesses in
Lorraine.]

CHAPTER SEVENTH.

HE FALLS IN LOVE WITH MISS HAMILTON--VARIOUS ADVENTURES
AT THE BALL IN THE QUEEN'S DRAWING-ROOM--CURIOUS VOYAGE
OF HIS VALET-DE-CHAMBRE TO AND FROM PARIS.

The Chevalier de Grammont, never satisfied in his amours, was fortunate without being beloved, and became jealous without having an attachment.

Mrs. Middleton, as we have said, was going to experience what methods he could invent to torment, after having experienced his powers of pleasing.

He went in search of her to the queen's drawing-room, where there was a ball; there she was; but fortunately for her, Miss Hamilton was there likewise. It had so happened, that of all the beautiful women at Court, this was the lady whom he had least seen, and whom he had heard most commended; this, therefore, was the first time that he had a close view of her, and he soon found that he had seen nothing at court before this instant; he asked her some questions, to which she replied; as long as she was dancing, his eyes were fixed upon her; and from this time he no longer resented Mrs. Middleton's conduct. Miss Hamilton was at the happy age when the charms of the fair sex begin to bloom; she had the finest shape, the loveliest neck, and most beautiful arms in the world; she was majestic and graceful in all her movements; and she was the original after which all the ladies copied in their taste and air of dress. Her forehead was open, white, and smooth; her hair was well set, and fell with ease into that natural order which it is so difficult to imitate. Her complexion was possessed of a certain freshness, not to be equalled by borrowed colours: her eyes were not large, but they were lively, and capable of expressing whatever she pleased: her mouth was full of graces, and her contour uncommonly perfect; nor was her nose, which was small, delicate, and turned up, the least ornament of so lovely a face. In fine, her air, her carriage, and the numberless graces dispersed over her whole person, made the Chevalier de Grammont not doubt but that she was possessed of every other qualification. Her mind was a proper companion for such a form: she did not endeavour to shine in conversation by those sprightly sallies which only puzzle; and with still greater care she avoided that affected solemnity in her discourse, which produces stupidity; but, without any eagerness to talk, she just said what she ought, and no more. She had an admirable discernment in distinguishing between solid and false wit; and far from making an ostentatious display of her abilities, she was reserved, though very just in her decisions: her sentiments were always noble, and even lofty to the highest extent, when there was occasion; nevertheless, she was less prepossessed with her own merit than is usually the case with those who have so much. Formed, as we have described, she could not fail of commanding love; but so far was she from courting it, that she was scrupulously nice with respect to those whose merit might entitle them to form any pretensions to her.

The more the Chevalier de Grammont was convinced of these truths, the more did he endeavour to please and engage her in his turn: his entertaining wit, his conversation, lively, easy, and always distinguished by novelty, constantly gained him attention; but he was much embarrassed to find that presents, which so easily made their way in his former method of courtship, were no longer proper in the mode which, for the future, he was obliged to pursue.

He had an old valet-de-chambre, called Termes, a bold thief, and a still more impudent liar: he used to send this man from London every week, on the commissions we have before mentioned; but after the disgrace of Mrs. Middleton, and the adventure of Miss Warmestre, Mr. Termes was only employed in bringing his master's clothes from Paris, and he did not always acquit himself with the greatest fidelity in that employment, as will appear hereafter.

The queen was a woman of sense, and used all her endeavours to please the king, by that kind obliging behaviour which her affection made natural to her: she was particularly attentive in promoting every sort of pleasure and amusement especially such as she could be present at herself.

She had contrived, for this purpose, a splendid masquerade, where those, whom she appointed to dance, had to represent different nations; she allowed some time for preparation, during which we may suppose, the tailors, the mantua makers, and embroiderers, were not idle: nor were the beauties, who were to be there, less anxiously employed; however, Miss Hamilton found time enough to invent two or three little tricks, in a conjuncture so favourable, for turning into ridicule the vain fools of the court. There were two who were very eminently such: the one was Lady Muskerry, who had married her cousin-german; and the other a maid of honour to the Duchess, called Blague.

The first, whose husband most assuredly never married her for beauty, was made like the generality of rich heiresses, to whom just nature seems sparing of her gifts, in proportion as they are loaded with those of fortune: she had the shape of a woman big with child, without being so; but had a very good reason for limping; for, of two legs uncommonly short, one was much shorter than the other. A face suitable to this description gave the finishing stroke to this disagreeable figure.