Produced by David Widger
MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT, VOLUME 3.
By Anthony Hamilton
EDITED, WITH NOTES, BY SIR WALTER SCOTT
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,
[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.]