Chapter IV: Part 4

He now had only to guard against those who would be watching for him about the environs of Peronne, to return as soon as they saw him, and carry his news to court, without being acquainted with any of the particulars. He knew very well that Marshal du Plessis, Marshal de Villeroy, and Gaboury, had boasted of this to the Cardinal before his departure. Wherefore, to elude this snare, he hired two well-mounted horsemen at Bapaume, and as soon as he had got a league from that place, and after giving them each two louis d’ors, to secure their fidelity, he ordered them to ride on before, to appear very much terrified, and to tell all those who should ask them any questions, “that all was lost, that the Chevalier de Grammont had stopped at Bapaume, having no great inclination to be the messenger of ill news; and that as for themselves, they had been pursued by the enemy’s troopers, who were spread over the whole country since the defeat.”

Everything succeeded to his wish: the horsemen were intercepted by Gaboury, whose eagerness had outstripped the two marshals’; but whatever questions were asked them, they acted their parts so well, that Peronne was already in consternation, and rumours of the defeat were whispered among the courtiers, when the Chevalier de Grammont arrived.

Nothing so enhances the value of good news, as when a false alarm of bad has preceded; yet, though the Chevalier’s was accompanied with this advantage, none but their Majesties received it with that transport of joy it deserved.

The queen kept her promise to him in the most fascinating manner: she embraced him before the whole court; the king appeared no less delighted; but the Cardinal, whether with the view of lessening the merit of an action which deserved a handsome reward, or whether it was from a return of that insolence which always accompanied him in prosperity, appeared at first not to pay any attention to what he said, and being afterwards informed that the lines had been forced, that the Spanish army was beaten, and that Arras was relieved, “Is the Prince de Conde taken?” said he. “No,” replied the Chevalier de Grammont. “He is dead then, I suppose?” said the Cardinal. “Not so, neither,” answered the Chevalier. “Fine news indeed!” said the Cardinal, with an air of contempt; and at these words he went into the queen’s cabinet with their majesties. And happy it was for the Chevalier that he did so, for without doubt he would have given him some severe reply, in resentment for those two fine questions, and the conclusion he had drawn from them.

The court was filled with the Cardinal’s spies: the Chevalier, as is usual on such an occasion, was surrounded by a crowd of courtiers and inquisitive people, and he was very glad to ease himself of some part of the load which laid heavy on his heart, within the hearing of the Cardinal’s creatures, and which he would perhaps have told him to his face. “Faith, gentlemen,” said he, with a sneer, “there is nothing like being zealous and eager in the service of kings and great princes: you have seen what a gracious reception his Majesty has given me; you are likewise witnesses in what an obliging manner the queen kept her promise with me; but as for the Cardinal, he has received my news as if he gained no more by it than he did by the death of Peter Mazarin.”

[Peter Mazarin was father to the Cardinal. He was a native of
Palermo in Sicily, which place he left in order to settle at Rome,
where he died in the year 1654.]

This was sufficient to terrify all those who were sincerely attached to him; and the best established fortune would have been ruined at some period by a jest much less severe: for it was delivered in the presence of witnesses, who were only desirous of having an opportunity of representing it in its utmost malignancy, to make a merit of their vigilance with a powerful and absolute minister. Of this the Chevalier de Grammont was thoroughly convinced; yet whatever detriment he foresaw might arise from it, he could not help being much pleased with what he had said.

The spies very faithfully discharged their duty: however, the affair took a very different turn from what they expected. The next day, when the Chevalier de Grammont was present while their Majesties were at dinner, the Cardinal came in, and coming up to him, everybody making way for him out of respect: “Chevalier,” said he, “the news which you have brought is very good, their Majesties are very well satisfied with it; and to convince you it is more advantageous to me than the death of Peter Mazarin, if you will come and dine with me we will have some play together; for the queen will give us something to play for, over and above her first promise.”

In this manner did the Chevalier de Grammont dare to provoke a powerful minister, and this was all the resentment which the least vindictive of all statesmen expressed on the occasion. It was indeed very unusual for so young a man to reverence the authority of ministers no farther, than as they were themselves respectable by their merit; for this, his own breast, as well as the whole court, applauded him, and he enjoyed the satisfaction of being the only man who durst preserve the least shadow of liberty, in a general state of servitude; but it was perhaps owing to the Cardinal’s passing over this insult with impunity, that he afterwards drew upon himself some difficulties, by other rash expressions less fortunate in the event.

In the mean time the court returned: the Cardinal, who was sensible that he could no longer keep his master in a state of tutelage, being himself worn out with cares and sickness, and having amassed treasures he knew not what to do with, and being sufficiently loaded with the weight of public odium, he turned all his thoughts towards terminating, in a manner the most advantageous for France, a ministry which had so cruelly shaken that kingdom. Thus, while he was earnestly laying the foundations of a peace so ardently wished for, pleasure and plenty began to reign at court.

The Chevalier de Grammont experienced for a long time a variety of fortune in love and gaming: he was esteemed by the courtiers, beloved by beauties whom he neglected, and a dangerous favourite of those whom he admired; more successful in play than in his amours; but the one indemnifying him for want of success in the other, he was always full of life and spirits; and in all transactions of importance, always a man of honour.

It is a pity that we must be forced here to interrupt the course of his history, by an interval of some years, as has been already done at the commencement of these memoirs. In a life where the most minute circumstances are always singular and diverting, we can meet with no chasm which does not afford regret; but whether he did not think them worthy of holding a place among his other adventures, or that he has only preserved a confused idea of them, we must pass to the parts of these fragments which are better ascertained, that we may arrive at the subject of his journey to England.

The peace of the Pyrenees, the king’s marriage,--the return of the Prince de Conde, and the death of the Cardinal, gave a new face to the state.

[Louis XIV. married Maria Theresa of Austria. She was born 20th
September, 1638, married 1st June, 1660, and entered Paris 26th
August following. She died at Versailles 30th July, 1683, and was
buried at St. Denis.]

The eyes of the whole nation were fixed upon their king, who, for nobleness of mien, and gracefulness of person, had no equal; but it was not then known that he was possessed of those superior abilities, which, filling his subjects with admiration, in the end made him so formidable to Europe. Love and ambition, the invisible springs of the intrigues and cabals of all courts, attentively observed his first steps: pleasure promised herself an absolute empire over a prince who had been kept in ignorance of the necessary rules of government, and ambition had no hopes of reigning in the court except in the minds of those who were able to dispute the management of affairs; when men were surprised to see the king on a sudden display such brilliant abilities, which prudence, in some measure necessary, had so long obliged him to conceal.

An application, inimical to the pleasures which generally attract that age, and which unlimited power very seldom refuses, attached him solely to the cares of government: all admired this wonderful change, but all did not find their account in it: the great lost their consequence before an absolute master, and the courtiers approached with reverential awe the sole object of their respects and the sole master of their fortunes: those who had conducted themselves like petty tyrants in their provinces, and on the frontiers, were now no more than governors: favours, according to the king’s pleasure, were sometimes conferred on merit, and sometimes for services done the state; but to importune, or to menace the court, was no longer the method to obtain them.

The Chevalier de Grammont regarded his master’s attention to the affairs of state as a prodigy: he could not conceive how he could submit at his age to the rules he prescribed himself, or that he should give up so many hours of pleasure, to devote them to the tiresome duties, and laborious functions of government; but he blessed the Lord that henceforward no more homage was to be paid, no more court to be made, but to him alone, to whom they were justly due. Disdaining as he did the servile adoration usually paid to a minister, he could never crouch before the power of the two Cardinals who succeeded each other: he neither worshipped the arbitrary power of the one, nor gave his approbation to the artifices of the other; he had never received anything from Cardinal Richelieu but an abbey, which, on account of his rank, could not be refused him; and he never acquired anything from Mazarin but what he won of him at play.

By many years’ experience under an able general he had acquired a talent for war; but this during a general peace was of no further service to him. He therefore thought that, in the midst of a court flourishing in beauties and abounding in wealth, he could not employ himself better than in endeavouring to gain the good opinion of his master, in making the best use of those advantages which nature had given him for play, and in putting in practice new stratagems in love.

He succeeded very well in the two first of these projects, and as he had from that time laid it down as the rule of his conduct to attach himself solely to the king in all his views of preferment, to have no regard for favour unless when it was supported by merit, to make himself beloved by the courtiers and feared by the minister, to dare to undertake anything in order to do good, and to engage in nothing at the expense of innocence, he soon became one in all the king’s parties of pleasure, without gaining the ill will of the courtiers. In play he was successful, in love unfortunate; or, to speak more properly, his restlessness and jealousy overcame his natural prudence, in a situation wherein he had most occasion for it. La Motte Agencourt was one of the maids of honour to the queen dowager, and, though no sparkling beauty, she had drawn away lovers from the celebrated Meneville.

[These two ladies at this period seem to have made a distinguished
figure in the annals of gallantry. One of their contemporaries
mentions them in these terms: “In this case, perhaps, I can give a
better account than most people; as, for instance, they had raised a
report, when the queen-mother expelled Mademoiselle de la Motte
Agencourt, that it was on his score, when I am assured, upon very
good grounds, that it was for entertaining the Marquis de Richelieu
against her majesty’s express command. This lady, who was one of
her maids of honour, was a person whom I was particularly acquainted
with; and that so much, as I was supposed to have a passion for her:
she was counted one of the finest women of the court, and therefore
I was not at all displeased to have it thought so; for except
Mademoiselle de Meneville, (who had her admirers,) there was none
that could pretend to dispute it” Memoirs of the Comte de Rochfort,
1696, p. 210. See also Anquetil, Louis XVI. sa Cour et le Regent,
tome i. p. 46.]

It was sufficient in those days for the king to cast his eye upon a young lady of the court to inspire her with hopes, and often with tender sentiments; but if he spoke to her more than once, the courtiers took it for granted, and those who had either pretensions to, or love for her, respectfully withdrew both the one and the other, and afterwards only paid her respect; but the Chevalier de Grammont thought fit to act quite otherwise, perhaps to preserve a singularity of character, which upon the present occasion was of no avail.

He had never before thought of her, but as soon as he found that she was honoured with the king’s attention, he was of opinion that she was likewise deserving of his. Having attached himself to her, he soon became very troublesome, without convincing her he was much in love. She grew weary of his persecutions, but he would not desist, neither on account of her ill-treatment nor of her threats. This conduct of his at first made no great noise, because she was in hopes that he would change his behaviour; but finding him rashly persist in it, she complained of him: and then it was that he perceived that if love renders all conditions equal, it is not so between rivals. He was banished the court, and not finding any place in France which could console him for what he most regretted--the presence and sight of his prince--after having made some slight reflections upon his disgrace, and bestowed a few imprecations against her who was the cause of it, he at last formed the resolution of visiting England.

CHAPTER SIXTH. HIS ARRIVAL AT THE ENGLISH COURT--THE VARIOUS PERSONAGES OF THIS COURT

Curiosity to see a man equally famous for his crimes and his elevation, had once before induced the Chevalier de Grammont to visit England. Reasons of state assume great privileges. Whatever appears advantageous is lawful, and every thing that is necessary is honourable in politics. While the King of England sought the protection of Spain in the Low Countries, and that of the States-General in Holland, other powers sent splendid embassies to Cromwell.

This man, whose ambition had opened him a way to sovereign power by the greatest crimes, maintained himself in it by accomplishments which seemed to render him worthy of it by their lustre. The nation, of all Europe the least submissive, patiently bore a yoke which did not even leave her the shadow of that liberty of which she is so jealous; and Cromwell, master of the Commonwealth, under the title of Protector, feared at home, but yet more dreaded abroad, was at his highest pitch of glory when he was seen by the Chevalier de Grammont; but the Chevalier did not see any appearance of a court. One part of the nobility proscribed, the other removed from employments; an affectation of purity of manners, instead of the luxury which the pomp of courts displays all taken together, presented nothing but sad and serious objects in the finest city in the world; and therefore the Chevalier acquired nothing by this voyage but the idea of some merit in a profligate man, and the admiration of some concealed beauties he had found means to discover.

Affairs wore quite a different appearance at his second voyage. The joy for the restoration of the royal family still appeared in all parts. The nation, fond of change and novelty, tasted the pleasure of a natural government, and seemed to breathe again after a long oppression. In short, the same people who, by a solemn abjuration, had excluded even the posterity of their lawful sovereign, exhausted themselves in festivals and rejoicings for his return.

The Chevalier de Grammont arrived about two years after the restoration. The reception he met with in this court soon made him forget the other; and the engagements he in the end contracted in England lessened the regret he had in leaving France.

This was a desirable retreat for an exile of his disposition.

Everything flattered his taste, and if the adventures he had in this country were not the most considerable, they were at least the most agreeable of his life. But before we relate them it will not be improper to give some account of the English court, as it was at that period.

The necessity of affairs had exposed Charles II. from his earliest youth to the toils and perils of a bloody war. The fate of the king his father had left him for inheritance nothing but his misfortunes and disgraces. They overtook him everywhere; but it was not until he had struggled with his ill-fortune to the last extremity that he submitted to the decrees of Providence.

All those who were either great on account of their birth or their loyalty had followed him into exile; and all the young persons of the greatest distinction having afterwards joined him, composed a court worthy of a better fate.

Plenty and prosperity, which are thought to tend only to corrupt manners, found nothing to spoil in an indigent and wandering court. Necessity, on the contrary, which produces a thousand advantages whether we will or no, served them for education; and nothing was to be seen among them but an emulation in glory, politeness, and virtue.

With this little court, in such high esteem for merit, the King of England returned two years prior to the period we mention, to ascend a throne which, to all appearances, he was to fill as worthily as the most glorious of his predecessors. The magnificence displayed on thus occasion was renewed at his coronation.

The death of the Duke of Gloucester, and of the Princess Royal, which followed soon after, had interrupted the course of this splendour by a tedious mourning, which they quitted at last to prepare for the reception of the Infanta of Portugal.

[The Princess Royal: Mary, eldest daughter of Charles I., born
November 4th, 1631, married to the Prince of Orange, 2nd May, 1641,
who died 27th October, 1650. She arrived in England, September
23rd, and died of the smallpox, December 24th, 1660,-according to
Bishop Burnet, not much lamented. “She had lived,” says the author,
“in her widowhood for some years with great reputation, kept a
decent court, and supported her brothers very liberally; and lived
within bounds. But her mother, who had the art of making herself
believe anything she had a mind to, upon a conversation with the
queen-mother of France, fancied the King of France might be inclined
to marry her. So she wrote to her to come to Paris. In order to
that, she made an equipage far above what she could support. So she
ran herself into debt, sold all her jewels, and some estates that
were in her power as her son’s guardian; and was not only
disappointed of that vain expectation, but fell into some
misfortunes that lessened the reputation she had formerly lived in.”
History of his Own Times, vol. i., p. 238. She was mother of
William III.]

[“The Infanta, of Portugal landed in May (1662) at Portsmouth. The
king went thither, and was married privately by Lord Aubigny, a
secular priest, and almoner to the queen, according to the rites of
Rome, in the queen’s chamber; none present but the Portuguese
ambassador, three more Portuguese of quality, and two or three
Portuguese women. What made this necessary was, that the Earl of
Sandwich did not marry her by proxy, as usual, before she came away.
How this happened, the duke knows not, nor did the chancellor know
of this private marriage. The queen would not be bedded, till
pronounced man and wife by Sheldon, bishop of London.”--Extract 2,
from King James II.’s Journal.--Macpherson’s State Papers, vol. i.
In the same collection is a curious letter from the King to Lord
Clarendon, giving his opinion of the queen after having seen her.]

It was in the height of the rejoicings they were making for this new queen, in all the splendour of a brilliant court, that the Chevalier de Grammont arrived to contribute to its magnificence and diversions.

Accustomed as he was to the grandeur of the court of France, he was surprised at the politeness and splendour of the court of England. The king was inferior to none, either in shape or air; his wit was pleasant; his disposition easy and affable; his soul, susceptible of opposite impressions, was compassionate to the unhappy, inflexible to the wicked, and tender even to excess; he showed great abilities in urgent affairs, but was incapable of application to any that were not so: his heart was often the dupe, but oftener the slave, of his engagements.

The character of the Duke of York was entirely different he had the reputation of undaunted courage, an inviolable attachment for his word, great economy in his affairs, hauteur, application, arrogance, each in their turn: a scrupulous observer of the rules of duty and the laws of justice; he was accounted a faithful friend, and an implacable enemy.

[James, Duke of York, afterwards King James II. He was born 15th
October, 1633; succeeded his brother 6th February, 1684-5; abdicated
the crown in 1688; and died 6th September, 1701. Bishop Burnet’s
character of him appears not very far from the truth.--“He was,”
says this writer, “very brave in his youth; and so much magnified by
Monsieur Turenne, that till his marriage lessened him, he really
clouded the king, and passed for the superior genius. He was
naturally candid and sincere, and a firm friend, till affairs and
his religion wore out all his first principles and inclinations he
had a great desire to understand affairs: and in order to that he
kept a constant journal of all that passed, of which he showed me a
great deal. The Duke of Buckingham gave me once a short but severe
character of the two brothers. It was the more severe, because it
was true: the king, (he said,) could see things if he would: and the
duke would see things if he could. He had no true judgment, and was
soon determined by those whom he trusted: but he was obstinate
against all other advices. He was bred with high notions of kingly
authority, and laid it down for a maxim, that all who opposed the
king were rebels in their hearts. He was perpetually in one amour
or other, without being very nice in his choice: upon which the king
once said, he believed his brother had his mistress given him by his
priests for penance. He was naturally eager and revengeful: and was
against the taking off any, that set up in an opposition to the
measures of the court, and who by that means grew popular in the
house of commons. He was for rougher methods. He continued many
years dissembling his religion, and seemed zealous for the church of
England, but it was chiefly on design to hinder all propositions,
that tended to unite us among ourselves. He was a frugal prince,
and brought his court into method and magnificence, for he had
L100,000. a-year allowed him. He was made high admiral, and he came
to understand all the concerns of the sea very particularly.”]

His morality and justice, struggling for some time with prejudice, had at last triumphed, by his acknowledging for his wife Miss Hyde, maid of honour to the Princess Royal, whom he had secretly married in Holland. Her father, from that time prime minister of England, supported by this new interest, soon rose to the head of affairs, and had almost ruined them: not that he wanted capacity, but he was too self-sufficient.

The Duke of Ormond possessed the confidence and esteem of his master: the greatness of his services, the splendour of his merit and his birth, and the fortune he had abandoned in adhering to the fate of his prince, rendered him worthy of it nor durst the courtiers even murmur at seeing him grand steward of the household, first lord of the bed-chamber, and lord-lieutenant of Ireland. He exactly resembled the Marshal de Grammont, in the turn of his wit and the nobleness of his manners: and like him was the honour of his master’s court.

The Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of St. Albans were the same in England as they appeared in France: the one full of wit and vivacity, dissipated, without splendour, an immense estate upon which he had just entered: the other, a man of no great genius, had raised himself a considerable fortune from nothing, and by losing at play, and keeping a great table, made it appear greater than it was.

[“The Duke of Buckingham is again one hundred and forty thousand
pounds in debt; and by this prorogation his creditors have time to
tear all his lands to pieces.”--Andrew Marvell’s Works, 4to. edit.,
vol. i. p. 406.]

Sir George Berkeley, afterwards Earl of Falmouth, was the confidant and favourite of the King: he commanded the Duke of York’s regiment of guards, and governed the Duke himself. He had nothing very remarkable either in his wit, or his person; but his sentiments were worthy of the fortune which awaited him, when, on the very point of his elevation, he was killed at sea. Never did disinterestedness so perfectly characterise the greatness of the soul: he had no views but what tended to the glory of his master: his credit was never employed but in advising him to reward services, or to confer favours on merit: so polished in conversation, that the greater his power, the greater was his humility; and so sincere in all his proceedings, that he would never have been taken for a courtier.

The Duke of Ormond’s sons and his nephews had been in the king’s court during his exile, and were far from diminishing its lustre after his return. The Earl of Arran had a singular address in all kinds of exercises, played well at tennis and on the guitar, and was pretty successful in gallantry: his elder brother, the Earl of Ossory, was not so lively, but of the most liberal sentiments, and of great probity.

The elder of the Hamiltons, their cousin, was the man who of all the court dressed best: he was well made in his person, and possessed those happy talents which lead to fortune, and procure success in love: he was a most assiduous courtier, had the most lively wit, the most polished manners, and the most punctual attention to his master imaginable: no person danced better, nor was any one a more general lover: a merit of some account in a court entirely devoted to love and gallantry. It is not at all surprising, that with these qualities he succeeded my Lord Falmouth in the King’s favour; but it is very extraordinary that he should have experienced the same destiny, as if this sort of war had been declared against merit only, and as if this sort of combat was fatal to none but such as had certain hopes of a splendid fortune. This, however, did not happen till some years afterwards.

The beau Sydney, less dangerous than he appeared to be, had not sufficient vivacity to support the impression which his figure made; but little Jermyn was on all sides successful in his intrigues.

[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.]

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.