The Duke of York's intrigues.--My Lady Chesterfield and his royal
highness--The story of Lady Southesk's love.--Lord Arran plays the
guitar.--Lord Chesterfield is jealous.--The countess is taken from
court.--Mistress Margaret Brooke and the king.--Lady Denham and the
duke.--Sir John goes mad.--My lady is poisoned.
The while his majesty devoted himself to pleasure and intrigue,
neglectful of affairs of state, and heedless of public scandal, his
brother of York, whose disposition was not less amorous, likewise
followed the bent of his inclinations. Soon after her appearance
at court he professed himself in love with the beautiful Elizabeth
Hamilton, whom to behold was to admire. But the duke being a married
man, and she a virtuous woman, he dared not address her on the subject
of his affection, and was therefore obliged to confine the expression
of his feelings to glances. These she refused to interpret; and he,
becoming weary of a pursuit which promised no happy results, turned his
attentions to the Countess of Chesterfield, who seemed in no way loath
to receive them.
This charming woman had married my Lord Chesterfield in compliance with
a family arrangement; and discovered too soon she had no place in
the heart of him whose life she shared. His coldness to her was only
equalled by his ardour for Lady Castlemaine, whose lover he continued to
remain after his marriage. The affection his wife had offered and he
had repulsed, in the dawn of their wedded life, changed by degrees to
disdain and hatred.
Now as chamberlain to the queen my Lord Chesterfield had, apartments in
the palace, by reason of which the countess became an habituee of
the court. The moral atmosphere of Whitehall was not calculated to
strengthen her conjugal virtue, but its perpetual gaiety was destined to
dissipate her sense of neglect. It was not possible for a woman endowed
with so much beauty, and possessed of such engaging manners, to be
disregarded, in a court entirely devoted to love and gallantry; and
accordingly she soon became an object of general admiration. This was by
no means pleasing to my Lord Chesterfield, who, though he had wilfully
repulsed her affections, was selfishly opposed to their bestowal upon
others. Accordingly he became watchful of her conduct, and jealous of
her admirers.
Prominent amongst these were James Hamilton and the Duke of York. The
former was her cousin, and her husband's confidant, in consequence of
which my lord failed to associate him with the suspicion he entertained
towards all other men who approached her: the latter he regarded with
the uttermost distrust. His royal highness had before now disturbed the
happy confidence which husbands had placed in their wives, as my Lord
Carnegy could testify.
The story which hangs thereby had, a little while before the duke fell
in love with Lady Chesterfield, afforded vast amusement to the court,
and was yet fresh in the recollection of many. It happened that his
royal highness became enamoured of my Lady Carnegy, daughter of the
gallant Duke of Hamilton, and friend of the gay Lady Castlemaine. Lady
Carnegy loved pleasure mightily, painted her face "devilishly," and
drove in the park flauntingly. She was endowed with considerable beauty
of form and great tenderness of heart, as many gallants acknowledged
with gratitude. Now when the Duke of York made advances to her, she
received them with all the satisfaction he could desire; an intimacy
therefore followed, which she was the better able to entertain on
account of her husband's absence in Scotland. Whilst my Lord Carnegy
was in that country, his father, the Earl of Southesk, died, and he
succeeded to the title and estates. In due time the new earl returned to
London and his wife, and was greeted by rumours of the friendship which
in his absence had sprung up between my lady and the duke. These, as
became a good husband, he refused to believe, until such time as he was
enabled to prove their veracity. Now, though his royal highness did not
cease to honour my lady with his visits on her husband's return, yet out
of respect to decorum, and in order to silence scandalous tongues, he
from that time invariably called on her accompanied by a friend.
It therefore came to pass that one day he requested an honest, foolish
Irishman, Dick Talbot, afterwards Duke of Tyrconnel, to attend him
in his visit to the lady. He could scarcely have selected a man more
unfitted to the occasion, inasmuch as Talbot was wholly devoid of tact,
and possessed a mind apt to wander at large at critical moments. He had
but recently returned from Portugal, and was not aware my Lord Carnegy
had in the meantime become Earl of Southesk, nor had he ever met the
lady who shared that title until introduced to her by the duke. When
that ceremony had been duly performed and a few sentences interchanged
between them, Talbot, acting on instructions previously received,
retired into an ante-room and took his post at a window that he might
divert himself by viewing the street, and observing those who approached
the house.
Here he remained for some time, but the study of mankind which the view
admitted did not afford sufficient interest to prevent him becoming
absorbed in his own thoughts, and indifferent to all objects surrounding
him. From this mental condition he was presently aroused by seeing a
carriage draw up to the door, and its occupant descend and quickly enter
the house. Talbot was so forgetful of his duty that he omitted apprising
the duke of this fact or making any movement until the door of the
ante-room opened, when he turned round to face the intruder. Then he
started forward and cried out, "Welcome, Carnegy!" for it was no other
than he. "Welcome my good fellow! Where the devil have you been, that I
have never been able to set eyes on you since we were at Brussels! What
business brought you here?" he continued in the same breath; and then
added in a tone of banter, "Do you likewise wish to see Lady Southesk;
if this is your intention, my poor friend, you may go away again; for
I must inform you the Duke of York is in love with her, and I will tell
you in confidence that at this very time he is in her chamber."
My Lord Southesk was overwhelmed with shame and confusion, and not
knowing how to act, immediately returned to his coach, Talbot attending
him to the door as his friend, and advising him to seek a mistress
elsewhere. He then went back to his post, and with some impatience
awaited the Duke's return, that he might tell him what had happened. And
in due time, when he had narrated the story, he was much surprised that
neither his royal highness nor the countess saw any humour in the fact
of Lord Carnegy's discomfiture. It served, however, to make the duke
break off his connection with the lady, and likewise to amuse the town.
Remembering this incident, my Lord Chesterfield kept a watchful eye upon
the duke, who he observed made advances towards the countess, which
she, in her generosity, had not the heart to repulse. But, as his royal
highness could see her only in presence of the court, my lord derived
some satisfaction from knowing he was witness to such civilities as had
yet passed between them. The duke was, however, anxious to have a more
particular occasion of conversing with my lady, and in accomplishing
this desire her brother Lord Arran was willing to aid him.
It happened about this time an Italian, named Francisco Corbeta, who
played with great perfection on the guitar, arrived at court. His
performances excited the wonder and delight of all who heard him, and
the instrument which produced such melody speedily became fashionable
at court, to such an extent, that a universal strumming was heard by
day and by night: throughout the palace of Whitehall. The Duke of York,
being devoted to music, was amongst those who strove to rival Signor
Francisco's performance; whilst my Lord Arran, by the delicacy of his
execution, almost equalled the great musician. The while Francisco's
popularity increased, his fame reaching its zenith when he composed a
saraband, to learn which became the ambition of all delighting in the
guitar.
Now one day the duke, not thinking himself perfect in this piece,
requested Lord Arran to play it over for him. My lord being a courteous
man, was anxious to oblige his royal highness, and in order that
the saraband might be heard to greatest advantage, was desirous
of performing it upon the best instrument at court, which it was
unhesitatingly acknowledged belonged to my Lady Chesterfield.
Accordingly, Lord Arran led the duke to his sister's apartments. Here
they found not only the guitar and my lady, but likewise my lord, who
was no less astonished than disturbed by their visit. Then my Lord Arran
commenced the famous saraband, whilst the duke commenced to ogle my
lady, and she to return his glances in kind, as if both were unconscious
of her husband's presence. So delightful did they find the saraband,
that Lord Arran was obliged to repeat it at least twenty times, to the
great mortification of the earl, who could scarcely contain his
violent rage and jealousy. His torture was presently increased to an
immeasurable degree, by a summons he received from the queen to attend
her in his capacity of lord chamberlain, during an audience she was
about, to give the Muscovite ambassador.
He had from the first suspected the visit, with which he was honoured,
to have been preconcerted by his wife and the duke; and he now began to
think her majesty was likewise connected with a plot destined to rob him
of his peace and blight his honour. However, he was obliged to obey the
queen's summons and depart. Nor had he been many minutes absent when
Lord Arran entered the presence-chamber where the audience was being
held, unaccompanied by the duke, at which Lord Chesterfield's jealous
fears were strengthened a thousandfold. Before night came he was
satisfied he held sufficient proof of his wife's infidelity.
This conviction caused him intense anxiety and pain; he walked about his
apartments abstracted and brooding on the wrongs from which he suffered;
avoided all who came in his way; and maintained strict silence as
to that which disturbed his peace, until next day, when he met James
Hamilton. To him he confided an account of the troubles which beset him.
After speaking of the visit paid by his royal highness, and the part
enacted by my Lord Arran, whom he described as "one of the silliest
creatures in England, with his guitar, and his other whims and follies,"
he went on to say that when Hamilton had heard him out, he would be
enabled to judge whether the visit ended in perfect innocence or not.
"Lady Chesterfield is amiable, it must be acknowledged," said he, "but
she is far from being such a miracle of beauty as she supposes herself:
you know she has ugly feet; but perhaps you are not acquainted that
she has still worse legs. They are short and thick, and to remedy these
defects as much as possible, she seldom wears any other than green
stockings. I went yesterday to Miss Stuart's after the audience of those
damned Muscovites: the king arrived there just before me; and as if the
duke had sworn to pursue me wherever I went that day, he came in just
after me. The conversation turned upon the extraordinary appearance of
the ambassadors. I know not where that fool Crofts had heard that
all these Muscovites had handsome wives; and that all their wives had
handsome legs. Upon this the king maintained, that no woman ever had
such handsome legs as Miss Stuart; and she to prove the truth of his
majesty's assertion, with the greatest imaginable ease, immediately
showed her leg above the knee. Some were ready to prostrate themselves
in order to adore its beauty, for indeed none can be handsomer; but
the duke alone began to criticize upon it. He contended that it was too
slender, and that as for himself he would give nothing for a leg that
was not thicker and shorter, and concluded by saying that no leg was
worth anything without green stockings; now this in my opinion was a
sufficient demonstration that he had just seen green stockings, and had
them fresh in his remembrance."
At hearing this story, Hamilton, being deeply in love with Lady
Chesterfield, was scarcely less agitated or less jealous than her lord;
but he was obliged to conceal his feelings. Therefore, assuming the tone
of an impartial hearer, he shrugged his shoulders, declared appearances
were often deceitful, and maintained that even if she had given herself
airs to encourage the duke, there were no grounds to show she had been
culpable of improprieties. My lord expressed himself much obliged to
his friend for the interest he had shown in his troubles, and after
exchanging a few compliments they parted. Hamilton, full of wrath,
returned home, and wrote a letter replete with violent expostulations
and tender reproaches to the woman he loved. This he delivered to her
secretly at the next opportunity. She received it from him with a
smile, which scared all doubts of her frailty from his mind, and with a
pressure of his hand which awoke the tenderest feelings in his heart.
He was now convinced her husband had allowed jealousy to blind him, and
had magnified his unworthy suspicions to assurances of guilt. Is this
view Hamilton was fully confirmed by a letter he received from her the
following day in answer to his own. "Are you not," said she, "ashamed to
give any credit to the visions of a jealous fellow, who brought nothing
else with him from Italy? Is it possible that the story of the green
stockings, upon which he has founded his suspicions, should have imposed
upon you, accompanied as it is with such pitiful circumstances? Since he
has made you his confidant, why did not he boast of breaking in pieces
my poor harmless guitar? This exploit, perhaps, might have convinced
you more than all the rest; recollect yourself, and if you are really in
love with me, thank fortune for a groundless jealousy, which diverts to
another quarter the attention he might pay to my attachment for the most
amiable and the most dangerous man at court."
Anointed by this flattering unction, such wounds as Hamilton had
experienced were quickly healed; alas, only to bleed afresh at the
certain knowledge that this charming woman had been making him her dupe!
For soon after, in a moment of indiscretion, and whilst the whole court,
including her majesty, was assembled in the card-room, my lady there
permitted the duke a liberty which confirmed her husband in his
suspicions of their intimacy. Hamilton at hearing this was wild
with fury, and advised Lord Chesterfield to carry her away from
the allurements of the court, and seclude her in one of his country
mansions. This was an advice to which the earl listened with
complaisance, and carried out with despatch, to her intense
mortification.
The whole court was amused by the story, but dismayed at the punishment
my lord inflicted upon his lady. Anthony Hamilton declares that in
England "they looked with astonishment upon a man who could be so
uncivil as to be jealous of his wife; and in the city of London it was
a prodigy, till that time unknown, to see a husband have recourse
to violent means to prevent what jealousy fears, and what it always
deserves." He adds, they endeavoured to excuse my lord by laying all the
blame on his bad education, which made "all the mothers vow to God that
none of their sons should ever set a foot in Italy, lest they should
bring back with them that infamous custom of laying restraint upon their
wives."
By the departure of Lady Chesterfield the court lost one of its most
brilliant ornaments forever, for the unhappy countess never again
returned to the gay scene of her adventures. For three long years
she endured banishment at Bretby in Derbyshire, and then died, it was
believed, from the effects of poison. For my lord, never having his
suspicions of her intrigue cleared, insisted on her taking the sacrament
by way of pledging her innocence; on which occasion he, in league with
his chaplain, mixed poison in the sacred wine, as result of which she
died. This shocking story gained credence not only with the public, but
with members of his own family; inasmuch as his daughter-in-law, Lady
Gertrude Stanhope, after she had quarrelled with him, would, when she
sat at his table, drink only of such wine and water as a trusty servant
of hers procured.
This intrigue of the duke had given much uneasiness to his duchess, who
had complained to the king and to her father, and had, moreover, set a
watch upon the movements of his royal highness. But such measures
did not avail to make him a faithful husband, and no sooner was Lady
Chesterfield removed from his sight, than Lady Denham took her place
in his affections. This latter mentioned gentlewoman was daughter of a
valiant baronet, Sir William Brooke, and niece to a worthless peer,
the Earl of Bristol. The earl had, on the king's restoration, cherished
ambitious schemes to obtain the merry monarch's favour; for which
purpose he sought to commend himself by ministering to the royal
pleasures.
Accordingly he entertained the king as became a loyal gentleman, giving
him luxurious banquets and agreeable suppers, to which, by way of
adding to his majesty's greater satisfaction, the noble host invited
his nieces, Mistress Brooke and her sister. The wily earl had, indeed,
conceived a plan the better to forward his interests with the king, and
was desirous one of these gentlewomen should subdue his majesty's heart,
and become his mistress. Margaret Brooke, the elder of the maidens, was
at this time in her eighteenth year, and was in the full flower of such
loveliness as was presented by a fair complexion, light brown hair, and
dark grey eyes. The merry monarch's susceptible heart was soon won
by her beauty; the charming lady's amorous disposition was speedily
conquered by his gallantry, and nothing prevented her becoming his
mistress save Lady Castlemaine's jealousy.
This, however, proved an insurmountable obstacle; for the countess,
hearing rumours of the pleasures which were enjoyed at my Lord Bristol's
table, insisted on attending the king thither, and soon gave his
gracious majesty an intimation he dared not disregard--that she would
not suffer Miss Brooke as a rival. Margaret Brooke was grievously
disappointed; but the Duke of York beginning his attentions at the point
where his majesty discontinued them, she was soon consoled for loss of
the monarch's affection by the ardour of his brother's love. But a short
time after, probably foreseeing the ambiguous position in which she
stood, she forsook her lover, and accepted a husband in the person of
Sir John Denham.
This worthy knight was a man of parts; inasmuch as he was a soldier,
a poet, and a gamester. At the time of his marriage he had passed his
fiftieth year; moreover, he limped painfully and carried a crutch. His
appearance, indeed, was far from imposing. According to Aubrey, he was
tall, had long legs, and was "incurvelting at his shoulders; his hair
was but thin and flaxen, with a moist curl; his gait slow and rather
astalking; his eye was a kind of light goose-grey, not big, but it had a
strange piercingness, not as to shining and glory, but when he conversed
he looked into your very thoughts." His personal defects, however, were
to a great degree compensated for by his great wealth. Moreover he was
surveyor-general of his majesty's works, had a town house in Scotland
Yard, and a country residence at Waltham Cross in Essex. But there are
some deficiencies for which wealth does not atone, as no doubt Lady
Denham promptly discovered; for, before a year of her married life had
passed, she renewed her intrigue with the Duke of York. His love for her
seemed to have increased a thousandfold since fate had given her to
the possession of another. At royal drawing-rooms he took her aside and
talked to her "in the sight of all the world," and whenever she moved
away from him he followed her like a dog.
Indeed, he made no effort to screen his passion, for not only did
he make love to her in presence of the court, but he visited her at
noonday, attended by his gentlemen, before all the town. Nor did Lady
Denham desire to conceal the honour with which, she considered, this
amour covered her, but openly declared she would "not be his mistress,
as Mrs. Price, to go up and down the privy stairs, but will be owned
publicly;" and in this respect she obtained her desire. Meanwhile Sir
John was rendered miserable; and, indeed, his desperation soon overthrew
his reason, and rendered him a lunatic. This affection first appeared
during a journey he made to the famous free-stone quarries near Portland
in Dorset. When he came within a mile of his destination, he suddenly
turned back, and proceeded to Hounslow, where he demanded rents for
lands he had disposed of years before; and then hastening to town sought
out the king and informed him he was the Holy Ghost.
This madness lasted but a short time; and the first use he made of his
recovered senses was to plot vengeance on his wife. Now there was one
honour which she coveted above all others, that of being appointed a
lady of the bedchamber to the Duchess of York. This her royal lover,
following the example of his majesty, sought to obtain for her; but
the duchess, who had already suffered many indignities by reason of her
husband's improprieties, refused him this request, which would render
her liable to continual insult in her own court. The duke, however,
had a strong will, and the duchess was on the point of yielding to his
demand, when rumour announced that Lady Denham had been taken suddenly
ill, and scandal declared she had been poisoned. The wildest sensation
followed. His royal highness, stricken with remorse and terror, hastened
to Scotland Yard and sought his beloved mistress, who told him she
believed herself poisoned, and felt she was now dying. The most eminent
physicians were speedily summoned, but their skill proved of no avail,
for she gradually became worse, and finally died, leaving instructions
that her body should be opened after death, in order that search might
be made for the fatal drug.
The surgeons followed these directions, as we learn from the Orrery
state papers, but no trace of poison was discovered. For all that the
public had no doubt her husband had destroyed her life, and Hamilton
tells us the populace "had a design of tearing Sir John in pieces as
soon as he should come abroad; but he shut himself up to bewail her
death, until their fury was appeased by a magnificent funeral, at which
he distributed four times more burnt wine than had ever been drunk at
any burial in England."
As for the duke, he was sorely troubled for her loss, and declared he
should never have a public mistress again.