less potent than his love, he remained fixed in his resolution; and
Killegrew, yielding at length to his importunities, went and offered his
cousin, bound hand and foot, to the victorious fair. As he dreaded
nothing more than a compliance on her part, so nothing could astonish him
more than the contempt with which she received his proposal. The scorn
with which she refused him, made him believe that she was sure of Lord
Taaffe, and wonder how a girl like her could find out two men who would
venture to marry her. He hastened to relate this refusal, with all the
most aggravating circumstances, as the best news he could carry to his
cousin; but his cousin would not believe him: he supposed that Killegrew
disguised the truth, for the same reasons he had already alleged; and not
daring to mention the matter any more to him, he resolved to wait upon
her himself. He summoned all his courage for the enterprise, and got his
compliment by heart; but as soon as he had opened his mouth for the
purpose, she told him he might have saved himself the trouble of calling
on her about such a ridiculous affair; that she had already given her
answer to Killegrew; and that she neither had, nor ever should have, any
other to give; which words she accompanied with all the severity with
which importunate demands are usually refused.
He was more affected than confounded at this repulse: everything became
odious to him in London, and he himself more so than all the rest: he
therefore left town, without taking leave of his cousin, went back to his
country seat, and thinking it would be impossible for him to live without
the inhuman fair, he resolved to neglect no opportunity in his power to
hasten his death.
But whilst, in order to indulge his sorrow, he had forsaken all
intercourse with dogs and horses; that is to say, renounced all the
delights and endearments of a country squire, the scornful nymph, who was
certainly mistaken in her reckoning, took the liberty of being brought
to-bed in the face of the whole court.
An adventure so public made no small noise, as we may very well
imagine: all the prudes at court at once broke loose upon it; and those
principally, whose age or persons secured them from any such scandal,
were the most inveterate, and cried most loudly for justice. But the
governess of the maids of honour, who might have been called to an
account for it, affirmed that it was nothing at all, and that she was
possessed of circumstances which would at once silence all censorious
tongues. She had an audience of the queen, in order to unfold the
mystery; and related to her majesty how everything had passed with her
consent, that is to say, upon honourable terms.
The queen sent to inquire of Lord Taaffe, whether he acknowledged Miss
Warmestre for his wife: to which he most respectfully returned for
answer, that he neither acknowledged Miss Warmestre nor her child, and
that he wondered why she should rather father it upon him than any other.
The unfortunate Warmestre, more enraged at this answer than at the loss
of such a lover, quitted the court as soon as ever she was able, with a
resolution of quitting the world the first opportunity.
Killegrew, being upon the point of setting out upon a journey, when this
adventure happened, thought he might as well call upon his afflicted
cousin in his way, to acquaint him with the circumstance; and as soon as
he saw him, without paying any attention to the delicacy of his love, or
to his feelings, he bluntly told him the whole story: nor did he omit any
colouring that could heighten his indignation, in order to make him burst
with shame and resentment.
We read that the gentle Tiridates quietly expired upon the recital of the
death of Mariamne; but Killegrew's fond cousin falling devoutly upon his
knees, and lifting up his eyes to Heaven, poured forth this exclamation:
"Praised be the Lord for a small misfortune, which perhaps may prove
the comfort of my life! Who knows but the beauteous Warmestre will now
accept of me for a husband; and that I may have the happiness of passing
the remainder of my days with a woman I adore, and by whom I may expect
to have heirs?" "Certainly," said Killegrew, more confounded than his
cousin ought to have been on such an occasion, "you may depend upon
having both: I make no manner of doubt but she will marry you as soon as
ever she is recovered from her lying-in; and it would be a great
ill-nature in her, who already knows the way, to let you want children:
however, in the meantime I advise you to take that she has already,
till you get more."
Notwithstanding this raillery, all that was said did take place. This
faithful lover courted her, as if she had been the chaste Lucretia, or
the beauteous Helen: his passion even increased after marriage, and the
generous fair, first out of gratitude, and afterwards through
inclination, never brought him a child of which he was not the father;
and though there have been many a happy couple in England, this certainly
was the happiest.
Some time after, Miss Bellenden, not being terrified by this example,
had the prudence to quit the court before she was obliged so to do: the
disagreeable Bardou followed her soon after; but for different reasons.
Every person was at last completely tired of her saraband, as well as of
her face; and the king, that he might see neither of them any more, gave
each a small pension for her subsistence. There now only remained little
Mademoiselle de la Garde to be provided for neither her virtues nor her
vices were sufficiently conspicuous to occasion her being either
dismissed from court, or pressed to remain there: God knows what would
have become of her, if a Mr. Silvius, a man who had nothing of a Roman in
him except the name, had not taken the poor girl to be his wife. We have
now shown how all these damsels deserved to be expelled, either for their
irregularities, or for their ugliness; and yet, those who replaced them
found means to make them regretted, Miss Wells only excepted.
She was a tall girl, exquisitely shaped: she dressed very genteel, walked
like a goddess; and yet, her face, though made like those that generally
please the most, was unfortunately one of those that pleased the least:
nature had spread over it a certain careless indolence that made her look
sheepish. This gave but a bad opinion of her wit: and her wit had the
ill-luck to make good that opinion: however, as she was fresh coloured,
and appeared inexperienced, the king, whom the fair Stewart did not
render over nice as to the perfections of the mind, resolved to try
whether the senses would not fare better with Miss Wells's person than
fine sentiments with her understanding: nor was this experiment attended
with much difficulty: she was of a loyal family; and her father having
faithfully served Charles the First, she thought it her duty not to
revolt against Charles the Second. But this connection was not attended
with very advantageous circumstances for herself; some pretended that she
did not hold out long enough, and that she surrendered at discretion
before she was vigorously attacked; and others said, that his majesty
complained of certain other facilities still less pleasing. The Duke of
Buckingham made a couplet upon this occasion, wherein the king, speaking
to Progers, the confidant of his intrigues, puns upon the name of the
fair one, to the following purport:
When the king felt the horrible depth of this Well,
"Tell me, Progers," cried Charlie, "where am I? oh tell!
Had I sought the world's centre to find, I had found it,
But this Well! ne'er a plummet was made that could sound it."
[Edward Progers, Esq., was a younger son of Philip Progers, Esq., of
the family of Garreddin, in Monmouthshire. His father was a colonel
in the army, and equerry to James I. Edward was early introduced to
court, and, after having been page to Charles I., was made groom of
the bed-chamber to his son, while Prince of Wales. He attached
himself to the king's interest during the war with the parliament,
with laudable fidelity. The following letter, from which
antiquaries may derive the minute information that Charles II. did
wear mourning for a whole year for his father, serves to shew the
familiar style which Charles used to Progers, as well as his
straitened circumstances while in the island of Jersey.
"Progers, I wold have you (besides the embroidred sute) bring me a
plaine riding suite, with an innocent coate, the suites I haue for
horsebacke being so spotted and spoiled that they are not to be
seene out of this island. The lining of the coate, and the petit
toies are referred to your greate discretion, provided there want
nothing when it comes to be put on. I doe not remember there was a
belt, or a hat-band, in your directions for the embroidred suite,
and those are so necessarie as you must not forget them.
"Jearsey, 14th Jan. old stile, 1649. CHARLES R."]
Miss Wells, notwithstanding this species of anagram upon her name, and
these remarks upon her person, shone the brightest among her new
companions. These were Miss Levingston, Miss Fielding, and Miss Boynton,
who little deserve to be mentioned in these memoirs; therefore we shall
leave them in obscurity until it please fortune to draw them out of it.
This was the new establishment of maids of honour to the queen. The
Duchess of York, nearly about the same time, likewise recruited hers; but
showed, by a happier and more brilliant choice, that England possessed an
inexhaustible stock of beauties. But before we begin to speak of them,
let us see who were the first maids of honour to her royal highness, and
on what account they were removed.
Besides Miss Blague and Miss Price, whom we have before mentioned, the
establishment was composed of Miss Bagot and Miss Hobart, the president
of the community. Miss Blague, who never knew the true reason of her
quarrel with the Marquis de Brisacier, took it up upon that fatal letter
she had received from him, wherein, without acquainting her that Miss
Price was to wear the same sort of gloves and yellow riband as herself,
he had only complimented her upon her hair, her fair complexion, and her
eyes marcassins. This word she imagined must signify something
particularly wonderful, since her eyes were compared to it; and being
desirous, some time afterwards, to know all the energy of the expression,
she asked the meaning of the French word marcassin. As there are no wild
boars in England, those to whom she addressed herself, told her that it
signified a young pig. This scandalous simile confirmed her in the
belief she entertained of his perfidy. Brisacier, more amazed at her
change, than she was offended at his supposed calumny, looked upon her
as a woman still more capricious than insignificant, and never troubled
himself more about her; but Sir Yarborough, of as fair a complexion as
herself, made her an offer of marriage in the height of her resentment,
and was accepted: chance made up this match, I suppose, as an experiment
to try what such a white-haired union would produce.
Miss Price was witty; and as her person was not very likely to attract
many admirers, which, however, she was resolved to have, she was far from
being coy when an occasion offered: she did not so much as make any
terms: she was violent in her resentments, as well as in her attachments,
which had exposed her to some inconveniences; and she had very
indiscreetly quarrelled with a young girl whom Lord Rochester admired.
This connection, which till then had been a secret, she had the
imprudence to publish to the whole world, and thereby drew upon herself
the most dangerous enemy in the universe: never did any man write with
more ease, humour, spirit, and delicacy; but he was at the same time the
most severe satirist.
Poor Miss Price, who had thus voluntarily provoked his resentment, was
daily exposed in some new shape: there was every day some new song or
other, the subject of which was her conduct, and the burden her name.
How was it possible for her to bear up against these attacks, in a court,
where every person was eager to obtain the most insignificant trifle that
came from the pen of Lord Rochester? The loss of her lover, and the
discovery that attended it, was only wanting to complete the persecution
that was raised against her.
About this time died Dongan, a gentleman of merit, who was succeeded by
Durfort, afterwards Earl of Feversham, in the post of lieutenant of the
duke's life guards. Miss Price having tenderly loved him, his death
plunged her into a gulf of despair; but the inventory of his effects had
almost deprived her of her senses: there was in it a certain little box
sealed up on all sides: it was addressed in the deceased's own
handwriting to Miss Price; but instead of receiving it, she had not even
the courage to look upon it. The governess thought it became her in
prudence to receive it, on Miss Price's refusal, and her duty to deliver
it to the duchess herself, supposing it was filled with many curious and
precious commodities, of which perhaps she might make some advantage.
Though the duchess was not altogether of the same opinion, she had the
curiosity to see what was contained in a box sealed up in a manner so
particularly careful, and therefore caused it to be opened in the
presence of some ladies, who happened then to be in her closet.
All kinds of love trinkets were found in it; and all these favours, it
appeared, came from the tender-hearted Miss Price. It was difficult to
comprehend how a single person could have furnished so great a
collection; for, besides counting the pictures, there was hair of all
descriptions, wrought into bracelets, lockets, and into a thousand other
different devices, wonderful to see. After these were three or four
packets of letters, of so tender a nature, and so full of raptures and
languors so naturally expressed, that the duchess could not endure the
reading of any more than the two first.
Her royal highness was sorry that she had caused the box to be opened in
such good company; for being before such witnesses, she rightly judged it
was impossible to stifle this adventure; and, at the same time, there
being no possibility of retaining any longer such a maid of honour, Miss
Price had her valuables restored to her, with orders to go and finish her
lamentations, or to console herself for the loss of her lover, in some
other place.
Miss Hobart's character was at that time as uncommon in England, as her
person was singular, in a country where, to be young, and not to be in
some degree handsome, is a reproach; she had a good shape, rather a bold
air, and a great deal of wit, which was well cultivated, without having
much discretion. She was likewise possessed of a great deal of vivacity,
with an irregular fancy: there was a great deal of fire in her eyes,
which, however, produced no effect upon the beholders and she had a
tender heart, whose sensibility some pretended was alone in favour
of the fair sex.
Miss Bagot was the first that gained her tenderness and affection, which
she returned at first with equal warmth and sincerity; but perceiving
that all her friendship was insufficient to repay that of Miss Hobart,
she yielded the conquest to the governess's niece, who thought herself as
much honoured by it as her aunt thought herself obliged by the care she
took of the young girl.
It was not long before the report, whether true or false, of this
singularity, spread through the whole court, where people, being yet so
uncivilized as never to have heard of that kind of refinement in love
of ancient Greece, imagined that the illustrious Hobart, who seemed so
particularly attached to the fair sex, was in reality something more
than she appeared to be.
Satirical ballads soon began to compliment her upon these new attributes;
and upon the insinuations that were therein made, her companions began to
fear her. The governess, alarmed at these reports, consulted Lord
Rochester upon the danger to which her niece was exposed. She could not
have applied to a fitter person: he immediately advised her to take her
niece out of the hands of Miss Hobart; and contrived matters so well that
she fell into his own. The duchess, who had too much generosity not to
treat as visionary what was imputed to Miss Hobart, and too much justice
to condemn her upon the faith of lampoons, removed her from the society
of the maids of honour, to be an attendant upon her own person.
Miss Bagot was the only one who was really possessed of virtue and beauty
among these maids of honour: she had beautiful and regular features, and
that sort of brown complexion, which, when in perfection, is so
particularly fascinating, and more especially in England, where it is
uncommon. There was an involuntary blush almost continually upon her
cheek, without having anything to blush for. Lord Falmouth cast his eyes
upon her: his addresses were better received than those of Miss Hobart,
and some time after Cupid raised her from the post of maid of honour to
the duchess to a rank which might have been envied by all the young
ladies in England.
The Duchess of York, in order to form her new court, resolved to see all
the young persons that offered themselves, and, without any regard to
recommendations, to choose none but the handsomest.
At the head of this new assembly appeared Miss Jennings and Miss Temple;
and indeed they so entirely eclipsed the other two, that we shall speak
of them only.
Miss Jennings, adorned with all the blooming treasures of youth, had the
fairest and brightest complexion that ever was seen: her hair was of a
most beauteous flaxen: there was something particularly lively and
animated in her countenance, which preserved her from that insipidity
which is frequently an attendant on a complexion so extremely fair. Her
mouth was not the smallest, but it was the handsomest mouth in the world.
Nature had endowed her with all those charms which cannot be expressed,
and the graces had given the finishing stroke to them. The turn of her
face was exquisitely fine, and her swelling neck was as fair and as
bright as her face. In a word, her person gave the idea of Aurora, or
the goddess of the spring, "such as youthful poets fancy when they love."
But as it would have been unjust that a single person should have
engrossed all the treasures of beauty without any defect, there was
something wanting in her hands and arms to render them worthy of the
rest: her nose was not the most elegant, and her eyes gave some relief,
whilst her mouth and her other charms pierced the heart with a thousand
darts.
With this amiable person she was full of wit and sprightliness, and all
her actions and motions were unaffected and easy: her conversation was
bewitching, when she had a mind to please; piercing and delicate when
disposed to raillery; but as her imagination was subject to flights,
and as she began to speak frequently before she had done thinking, her
expressions did not always convey what she wished; sometimes exceeding,
and at others falling short of her ideas.
Miss Temple, nearly of the same age, was brown compared with the other:
she had a good shape, fine teeth, languishing, eyes, a fresh complexion,
an agreeable smile, and a lively air. Such was the outward form; but it
would be difficult to describe the rest; for she was simple and vain,
credulous and suspicious, coquettish and prudent, very self-sufficient
and very silly.
As soon as these new stars appeared at the duchess's court, all eyes were
fixed upon them, and every one formed some design upon one or other of
them, some with honourable, and others with dishonest intentions. Miss
Jennings soon distinguished herself, and left her companions no other
admirers but such as remained constant from hopes of success: her
brilliant charms attracted at first sight, and the charms of her wit
secured her conquests.
The Duke of York having persuaded himself that she was part of his
property, resolved to pursue his claim by the same title whereby his
brother had appropriated to himself the favours of Miss Wells; but he did
not find her inclined to enter into his service, though she had engaged
in that of the duchess. She would not pay any attention to the perpetual
ogling with which he at first attacked her. Her eyes were always
wandering on other objects, when those of his royal highness were looking
for them; and if by chance he caught any casual glance, she did not even
blush. This made him resolve to change his manner of attack: ogling
having proved ineffectual, he took an opportunity to speak to her; and
this was still worse. I know not in what strain he told his case; but it
is certain the oratory of the tongue was not more prevailing than the
eloquence of his eyes.
Miss Jennings had both virtue and pride, and the proposals of the duke
were consistent with neither the one nor the other. Although from her
great vivacity one might suppose that she was not capable of much
reflection, yet she had furnished herself with some very salutary maxims
for the conduct of a young person of her age. The first was, that a lady
ought to be young to enter the court with advantage, and not old to leave
it with a good grace: that she could not maintain herself there but by a
glorious resistance, or by illustrious foibles and that, in so dangerous
a situation, she ought to use her utmost endeavours not to dispose of her
heart until she gave her hand.
Entertaining such sentiments, she had far less trouble to resist the
duke's temptations, than to disengage herself from his perseverance: she
was deaf to all treaties for a settlement, with which her ambition was
sounded: and all offers of presents succeeded still worse. What was then
to be done to conquer an extravagant virtue that would not hearken to
reason? He was ashamed to suffer a giddy young girl to escape, whose
inclinations ought in some manner to correspond with the vivacity that
shone forth in all her actions, and who nevertheless thought proper to be
serious when no such thing as seriousness was required of her.
After he had attentively considered her obstinate behaviour, he thought
that writing might perhaps succeed, though ogling, speeches, and
embassies had failed. Paper receives everything, but it unfortunately
happened that she would not receive the paper. Every day billets,
containing the tenderest expressions, and most magnificent promises, were
slipped into her pockets, or into her muff: this, however, could not be
done unperceived; and the malicious little gipsy took care that those who
saw them slip in, should likewise see them fall out, unperused and
unopened; she only shook her muff, or pulled out her handkerchief; as
soon as ever his back was turned, his billets fell about her like
hail-stones, and whoever pleased might take them up. The duchess was
frequently a witness of this conduct, but could not find in her heart to
chide her for her want of respect to the duke. After this, the charms
and prudence of Miss Jennings were the only subjects of conversation in
the two courts: the courtiers could not comprehend how a young creature,
brought directly from the country to court, should so soon become its
ornament by her attractions, and its example by her conduct.
The king was of opinion that those who had attacked her had ill-concerted
their measures; for he thought it unnatural that she should neither be
tempted by promises, nor gained by importunity: she, especially, who in
all probability had not imbibed such severe precepts from the prudence of
her mother, who had never tasted any thing more delicious than the plums
and apricots of Saint Albans. Being resolved to try her himself, he was
particularly pleased with the great novelty that appeared in the turn of
her wit, and in the charms of her person; and curiosity, which at first
induced him to make the trial, was soon changed into a desire of
succeeding in the experiment. God knows what might have been the
consequence, for he greatly excelled in wit, and besides he was king:
two qualities of no small consideration. The resolutions of the fair
Jennings were commendable, and very judicious; but yet she was
wonderfully pleased with wit; and royal majesty prostrate at the feet
of a young person, is very persuasive. Miss Stewart, however, would
not consent to the king's project.