The kingdom in peril.--The chancellor falls under his majesty's
displeasure.--The Duke of Buckingham's mimicry.--Lady Castlemaine's
malice.--Lord Clarendon's fall.--The Duke of Ormond offends the royal
favourite.--She covers him with abuse.--Plots against the Duke of
York.--Schemes for a royal divorce.--Moll Davis and Nell Gwynn.--The
king and the comedian.--Lady Castlemaine abandons herself to great
disorders.--Young Jack Spencer.--The countess intrigues with an
acrobat.--Talk of the town.--The mistress created a duchess.
At this time the kingdom stood in uttermost danger, being brought to
that condition by his majesty's negligence towards its concerns.
The peril was, moreover, heightened from the fact of the king being
impatient to rid himself of those who had the nation's credit at heart,
and sought to uphold its interests. To this end he was led in part by
his own inclinations, and furthermore by his friends' solicitations.
Foremost amongst those with whose services he was anxious to dispense,
were the chancellor, my Lord Clarendon, and the lord lieutenant of
Ireland, his grace the Duke of Ormond.
The king's displeasure against these men, who had served his father
loyally, himself faithfully, and their country honestly, was instigated
through hatred borne them by my Lady Castlemaine. From the first both
had bewailed the monarch's connection with her, and the evil influence
she exercised over him. Accordingly, after the pattern of honest men,
they had set their faces against her.
Not only, as has already been stated, would the chancellor refuse to
let any document bearing her name pass the great seal, but he had often
prevailed with the king to alter resolutions she had persuaded him to
form. And moreover had his lordship sinned in her eyes by forbidding
his wife to visit or hold intercourse with her. These were sufficient
reasons to arouse the hatred and procure the revenge of this malicious
woman, who was now virtually at the head of the kingdom. For awhile,
however, Charles, mindful of the services the chancellor had rendered
him, was unwilling to thrust him from his high place. But as time
sped, and the machinations of a clique of courtiers in league with the
countess were added to her influence, the chancellor's power wavered.
And finally, when he was suspected of stepping between his majesty and
his unlawful pleasures--concerning which more shall be said anon--he
fell.
At the head and front of the body which plotted against Lord Clarendon,
pandered to Lady Castlemaine, and, for its own purposes--politically
and socially--sought to control the king, was his grace the Duke of
Buckingham. This witty courtier and his friends, when assembled round
the pleasant supper table spread in the countess's apartments, and
honoured almost nightly by the presence of the king, delighted to
vent the force of their humour upon the chancellor, and criticize his
influence over the monarch until Charles smarted from their words.
In the height of their mirth, if his majesty declared he would go a
journey, walk in a certain direction, or perform some trivial action
next day, those around him would lay a wager he would not fulfil his
intentions; and when asked why they had arrived at such conclusions,
they would reply, because the chancellor would not permit him. On this
another would remark with mock gravity, he thought there were no
grounds for such an imputation, though, indeed, he could not deny it was
universally believed abroad his majesty was implicitly governed by Lord
Clarendon. The king, being keenly sensitive to remarks doubting his
authority, and most desirous of appearing his own master, would
exclaim on such occasions that the chancellor "had served him long,
and understood his business, in which he trusted him; but in any other
matter than his business, he had no more credit with him than any other
man." And presently the Duke of Buckingham--who possessed talents of
mimicry to a surpassing degree--would arise, and, screwing his face into
ridiculous contortions, and shaking his wig in a manner that burlesqued
wisdom to perfection, deliver some ludicrous speech brimming with
mirth and indecencies, assuming the grave air and stately manner of the
chancellor the while. And finally, to make the caricature perfect, Tom
Killigrew, hanging a pair of bellows before him by way of purse, and
preceded by a friend carrying a fireshovel to represent a mace, would
walk round the room with the slow determined tread peculiar to Lord
Clarendon. At these performances the king, his mistress, and his
courtiers would laugh loud and long in chorus, with which was mingled
sounds of chinking glasses and flowing wine. ["Came my lord chancellor
(the Earl of Clarendon) and his lady, his purse and mace borne before
him, to visit me"--Evelyn's "Diary."]
In this manner was the old man's power undermined; but a circumstance
which hastened his fall occurred in the early part of 1667. In that year
Lady Castlemaine had, for a valuable consideration, disposed of a place
at court, which ensured the purchaser a goodly salary. However, before
the bargain could finally be ratified, it was necessary the appointment
should pass the great seal. This the chancellor would not permit, and
accompanied his refusal by remarking, "he thought this woman would sell
every thing shortly." His speech being repeated to her, she, in great
rage, sent him word she "had disposed of this place, and had no doubt in
a little time to dispose of his." And so great was the malice she bore
him, that she railed against him openly and in all places; nor did
she scruple to declare in the queen's chamber, in the presence of much
company, "that she hoped to see his head upon a stake, to keep company
with those of the regicides on Westminster Hall."
And some political movements now arising, the history of which lies not
within the province of this work, the king seized upon them as an excuse
for parting with his chancellor. The monarch complained that my Lord
Clarendon "was so imperious that he would endure no contradiction; that
he had a faction in the House of Commons that opposed everything that
concerned his majesty's service, if it were not recommended to them
by him; and that he had given him very ill advice concerning the
parliament, which offended him most."
Therefore there were rumours in the air that the chancellor's fall was
imminent; nor were the efforts of his son-in-law, the Duke of York, able
to protect him, for the friends of my Lady Castlemaine openly told his
majesty "it would not consist with his majesty's honour to be hectored
out of his determination to dismiss the chancellor by his brother, who
was wrought upon by his wife's crying." It therefore happened on the
26th of August, 1667, as early as ten o'clock in the morning, Lord
Clarendon waited at Whitehall on the king, who presently, accompanied by
his brother, received him with characteristic graciousness. Whereon the
old man, acknowledging the monarch's courtesy, said he "had no suit to
make to him, nor the least thought to dispute with him, or to divert him
from the resolution he had taken; but only to receive his determination
from himself, and most humbly to beseech him to let him know what
fault he had committed, that had drawn this severity upon him from his
majesty."
In answer to this Charles said he must always acknowledge "he had served
him honestly and faithfully, and that he did believe never king had
a better servant; that he had taken this resolution for his good and
preservation, as well as for his own convenience and security; that he
was sorry the business had taken so much air, and was so publicly spoken
of, that he knew not how to change his purpose." To these words of
fair seeming the troubled chancellor replied by doubting if the sudden
dismissal of an old servant who had served the crown full thirty years,
without any suggestion of crime, but rather with a declaration of
innocence, would not call his majesty's justice and good nature into
question. He added that men would not know how to serve him, when they
should see it was in the power of three or four persons who had never
done him any notable service to dispose him to ungracious acts. And
finally, he made bold to cast some reflections upon my Lady Castlemaine,
and give his majesty certain warnings regarding her influence.
At this the king, not being well pleased, rose up, and the interview,
which had lasted two hours, terminated. Lord Clarendon tells us so much
concerning his memorable visit, to which Pepys adds a vivid vignette
picture of his departure. When my lord passed from his majesty's
presence into the privy garden, my Lady Castlemaine, who up to that
time had been in bed, "ran out in her smock into her aviary looking into
Whitehall--and thither her woman brought her nightgown--and stood joying
herself at the old man's going away; and several of the gallants of
Whitehall, of which there were many staying to see the chancellor
return, did talk to her in her birdcage--among others Blaneford, telling
her she was the bird of paradise."
A few days after this occurrence the king sent Secretary Morrice to the
chancellor's house, with a warrant under a sign manual to require and
receive the great seal. This Lord Clarendon at once delivered him with
many expressions of duty which he bade the messenger likewise convey his
majesty. And no sooner had Morrice handed the seals to the king,
than Baptist May, keeper of the privy purse, and friend of my Lady
Castlemaine, sought the monarch, and falling upon his knees, kissed his
hand and congratulated him on his riddance of the chancellor. "For now."
said he, availing himself of the liberty Charles permitted his friends,
"you will be king--what you have never been before." Finally, the
chancellor was, through influence of his enemies, impeached in the House
of Commons; and to such length did they pursue him, that he was banished
the kingdom by act of parliament.
His grace the Duke of Ormond was the next minister whom my Lady
Castlemaine, in the strength of her evil influence, sought to undermine.
By reason of an integrity rendering him too loyal to the king to pander
to his majesty's mistress, he incurred her displeasure in many ways;
but especially by refusing to gratify her cupidity. It happened she
had obtained from his majesty a warrant granting her the Phoenix Park,
Dublin, and the mansion situated therein, which had always been placed
at service of the lords lieutenants, and was the only summer residence
at their disposal. The duke, therefore, boldly refusing to pass the
warrant, stopped the grant. [According to O'Connor's "Bibliotheca
Stowensis," Lady Castlemaine soon after received a grant of a thousand
pounds per annum in compensation for her loss of Phoenix Park.] This
so enraged the countess, that soon after, when his grace returned to
England, she, on meeting him in one of the apartments in Whitehall,
greeted him with a torrent of abusive language and bitter reproaches,
such as the rancour of her heart could suggest, or the license of her
tongue utter, and concluded by hoping she might live to see him hanged.
The duke heard her with the uttermost calmness, and when she had
exhausted her abusive vocabulary quietly replied, "Madam, I am not in so
much haste to put an end to your days; for all I wish with regard to you
is, that I may live to see you grow old." And, bowing low, the fine old
soldier left her presence. It may be added, though the duke was deprived
of the lord lieutenancy, the countess's pious wish regarding him was
never fulfilled.
It now occurred to those who had relentlessly persecuted the chancellor,
that though they were safe as long as Charles reigned, his death would
certainly place them in peril. For they sufficiently knew the Duke
of York's character to be aware when he ascended the throne he would
certainly avenge the wrongs suffered by his father-in-law. Accordingly
these men, prominent amongst whom were the Duke of Buckingham, Sir
Thomas Clifford, Lords Arlington, Lauderdale, and Ashley, and Baptist
May, resolved to devise means which would prevent the Duke of York ever
attaining the power of sovereignty. Therefore scarce a year had gone by
since Lord Clarendon's downfall, ere rumours were spread abroad that his
majesty was about to put away the queen, This was to be effected, it
was said, by the king's acknowledgment of a previous marriage with Lucy
Walters, mother of the Duke of Monmouth, or by obtaining a divorce on
ground of her majesty's barrenness.
The Duke of Buckingham, who was prime mover in this plot, aware of the
king's pride in, and fondness for the Duke of Monmouth, favoured the
scheme of his majesty's admission of a marriage previous to that
which united him with Catherine of Braganza. And according to Burnet,
Buckingham undertook to procure witnesses who would swear they had
been present at the ceremony which united him with the abandoned Lucy
Walters. Moreover, the Earl of Carlisle, who likewise favoured the
contrivance, offered to bring this subject before the House of Lords.
However, the king would not consent to trifle with the succession in
this vile manner, and the idea was promptly abandoned. But though the
project was unsuccessful, it was subsequently the cause of many evils;
for the chances of sovereignty, flashing before the eyes of the Duke
of Monmouth, dazzled him with hopes, in striving to realize which, he,
during the succeeding reign, steeped the country in civil warfare, and
lost his head.
The king's friends, ever active for evil, now sought other methods
by which he might rid himself of the woman who loved him well, and
therefore be enabled to marry again, when, it was trusted, he would have
heirs to the crown. It was suggested his union might, through lack of
some formality, be proved illegal; but as this could not be effected
without open violation of truth and justice, it was likewise forsaken.
The Duke of Buckingham now besought his majesty that he would order a
bill to divorce himself from the queen to be brought into the House of
Commons. The king gave his consent to the suggestion, and the affair
proceeded so far that a date was fixed upon for the motion. However,
three days previous, Charles called Baptist May aside, and told him the
matter must be discontinued.
But even yet my Lord Buckingham did not despair of gaining his wishes.
And, being qualified by his character for the commission of abominable
deeds, and fitted by his experience for undertaking adventurous schemes,
he proposed to his majesty, as Burnet states, that he would give
him leave to abduct the queen, and send her out of the kingdom to a
plantation, where she should be well and carefully looked to, but never
heard of more. Then it could be given out she had deserted him, upon
which grounds he might readily obtain a divorce. But the king, though he
permitted such a proposal to be made him, contemplated it with horror,
declaring "it was a wicked thing to make a poor lady miserable only
because she was his wife and had no children by him, which was no fault
of hers."
Ultimately these various schemes resolved themselves into a proposition
which Charles sanctioned. This was that the queen's confessor should
persuade her to leave the world, and embrace a religious life. Whether
this suggestion was ever made to her majesty is unknown, for the
Countess of Castlemaine, hearing of these schemes, and foreseeing she
would be the first sacrificed to a new queen's jealousy, opposed them
with such vigour that they fell to the ground and were heard of no more.
The fact was, the king took no active part in these designs, not being
anxious, now the Duchess of Richmond had accepted his love, to unite
himself with another wife. Whilst her grace had been unmarried, the idea
had indeed occurred to him of seeking a divorce that he might be free to
lay his crown at the feet of the maid of honour. And with such a view
in mind he had consulted Dr. Sheldon, Archbishop of Canterbury, as
to whether the Church of England "would allow of a divorce, when both
parties were consenting, and one of them lay under a natural incapacity
of having children." Before answering a question on which so much
depended, the archbishop requested time for consideration, which,
with many injunctions to secrecy, was allowed him. "But," says Lord
Dartmouth, who vouches for truth of this statement, "the Duke of
Richmond's clandestine marriage, before he had given an answer, made
the king suspect he had revealed the secret to Clarendon, whose creature
Sheldon was known to be; and this was the true secret of Clarendon's
disgrace." For the king, believing the chancellor had aided the duke in
his secret marriage, in order to prevent his majesty's union with Miss
Stuart, and the presumable exclusion of the Duke and Duchess of York and
their children from the throne, never forgave him.
Though the subject of the royal divorce was no longer mentioned, the
disturbances springing from it were far from ended; for the Duke
of Buckingham, incensed at Lady Castlemaine's interference, openly
quarrelled with her, abused her roundly, and swore he would remove the
king from her power. To this end he therefore employed his talents, and
with such tact and assiduity that he ultimately fulfilled his menaces.
The first step he took towards accomplishing his desires, was to
introduce two players to his majesty, named respectively Moll Davis and
Nell Gwynn.
The former, a member of the Duke of York's troupe of performers, could
boast of goodly lineage, though not of legitimate birth, her father
being Thomas Howard, first Earl of Berkshire. She had, early in the year
1667, made her first appearance at the playhouse, and had by her comely
face and shapely figure challenged the admiration of the town. Her
winsome ways, pleasant voice, and graceful dancing soon made her a
favourite with the courtiers, who voted her an excellent wench; though
some of her own sex, judging harshly of her, as is their wont towards
each other, declared her "the most impertinent slut in the world."
Now the Duke of Buckingham knowing her well, it seemed to him no woman
was more suited to fulfil his purpose of thwarting the countess; for
if he succeeded in awaking the king's passion for the comedian, such a
proceeding would not only arouse my lady's jealousy, but likewise humble
her pride. Therefore, when this court Mephistopheles accompanied his
majesty to the playhouse, he was careful to dwell on Moll Davis's
various charms, the excellency of her figure, the beauty of her face,
the piquancy of her manner. So impressed was the monarch by Buckingham's
descriptions, that he soon became susceptible to her fascinations.
The amour once begun was speedily pursued; and she was soon enabled to
boast, in presence of the players, that the king--whose generosity was
great to fallen women--had given her a ring valued at seven hundred
pounds, and was about to take, and furnish most richly, a house in
Suffolk Street for her benefit and abode. Pepys heard this news in
the first month of the year 1668; and soon afterwards a further rumour
reached him that she was veritably the king's mistress, "even to the
scorn of the world."
This intrigue affected Lady Castlemaine in a manner which the Duke
of Buckingham had not expected. Whilst sitting beside Charles in the
playhouse, she noticed his attention was riveted upon her rival, when
she became melancholy and out of humour, in which condition she remained
some days. But presently rallying her spirits, she soon found means to
divert her mind and avenge her wrongs, of which more shall be recorded
hereafter. Meanwhile, the poor queen, whose feelings neither the king
nor his courtiers took into consideration, bore this fresh insult with
such patience as she could summon to her aid, on one occasion only
protesting against her husband's connection with the player. This
happened when the Duke of York's troupe performed in Whitehall the
tragedy of "Horace," "written by the virtuous Mrs. Phillips." The
courtiers assembled on this occasion presented a brilliant and goodly
sight. Evelyn tells us "the excessive gallantry of the ladies was
infinite, those jewels especially on Lady Castlemaine esteemed at forty
thousand pounds and more, far outshining ye queene." Between each act of
the tradgedy a masque and antique dance was performed. When Moll
Davis appeared, her majesty, turning pale from sickness of heart, and
trembling from indignation at the glaring insult thrust upon her, arose
and left the apartment boisterous with revelry, where she had sat a
solitary sad figure in its midst. As a result of her intimacy with
the king, Moll Davis bore him a daughter, who subsequently became
Lady Derwentwater. But the Duke of Buckingham's revenge upon my Lady
Castlemaine was yet but half complete; and therefore whilst the monarch
carried on his intrigue with Moll Davis, his grace, enlarging upon the
wit and excellency of Nell Gwynn, besought his majesty to send for
her. This request the king complied with readily enough, and she was
accordingly soon added to the list of his mistresses. Nell Gwynn, who
was at this period in her eighteenth year, had joined the company of
players at the king's house, about the same time as Moll Davis had
united her fortunes with the Duke of York's comedians. Her time upon
the stage was, however, but of brief duration; for my Lord Buckhurst,
afterwards Earl of Dorset, a witty and licentious man, falling in love
with her, induced her to become his mistress, quit the theatre, and
forsake the society of her lover, Charles Hart, a famous actor and
great-nephew of William Shakespeare. And she complying with his desires
in these matters, he made her an allowance of one hundred pounds a year,
on which she returned her parts to the manager, and declared she would
act no more.
Accordingly in the month of July, 1667, she was living at Epsom with
my Lord Buckhurst and his witty friend Sir Charles Sedley, and a right
merry house they kept for a time. But alas, ere the summer had died
there came a day when charming Nell and his fickle lordship were
friends no more, and parting from him, she was obliged to revert to the
playhouse again.
Now Nell Gwynn being not only a pretty woman, but moreover an excellent
actress, her return was welcomed by the town. Her achievements in light
comedy were especially excellent, and declared entertaining to a rare
degree. Pepys, who witnessed her acting "a comical part," in the "Maiden
Queen," a play by Dryden, says he could "never hope to see the like
done again by man or woman. So great performance of a comical part," he
continues, "was never, I believe, in the world before as Nell do this,
both as a mad girle, then most and best of all when she comes in like
a young gallant; and hath the motions and carriage of a spark the most
that ever I saw any man have. It makes me, I confess, admire her."
In the part of Valeria, in "Tyrannic Love," she was also pronounced
inimitable; especially in her delivery of the epilogue. The vein of
comedy with which she delivered the opening lines, addressed to those
about to bear her dead body from the stage, was merry beyond belief.
"Hold!" she cried out to one of them, as she suddenly started to life--
"Hold! are you mad? you damned confounded dog!
I am to rise and speak the epilogue."
Before the year 1667 ended, she had several times visited his majesty
at Whitehall. The king was now no less assured of her charms as a woman,
than he had previously been convinced of her excellence as an actress.
In due time, her intimacy with the monarch resulted in the birth of two
sons; the elder of which was created Duke of St. Albans, from whom is
descended the family now bearing that title: the second died young and
unmarried.
Through influence of these women, my Lady Castlemaine's power over the
king rapidly diminished, and at last ceased to exist; seeing which, as
Burnet says, "She abandoned herself to great disorders; one of which
by the artifice of the Duke of Buckingham was discovered by the king in
person, the party concerned leaping out of the window." The gallant to
whom the worthy bishop refers was John Churchill, afterwards the great
Duke of Marlborough, at this time a handsome stripling of eighteen
summers. In his office as page to the Duke of York, he frequently came
under notice of her ladyship, who, pleased with the charms of his
boyish face and graceful figure, intimated his love would not prove
unacceptable to her. Accordingly he promptly made love to the countess,
who, in the first fervour of her affection, presented him with five
thousand pounds. With this sum he purchased a life annuity of five
hundred pounds, which, as Lord Chesterfield writes, "became the
foundation of his subsequent fortune." Nor did her generosity end here:
at a cost of six thousand crowns she obtained for him the post of
groom of the bedchamber to the Duke of York, and was instrumental in
subsequently forwarding his advancements in the army.
My Lady Castlemaine was by no means inclined to spend her days in misery
because the royal favour was no longer vouchsafed her; and therefore, by
way of satisfying her desires for revenge, conducted intrigues not only
with John Churchill and Harry Jermyn, but likewise with one Jacob Hall,
a noted acrobat. This man was not only gifted with strength and agility,
but likewise with grace and beauty: so that, as Granger tells us, "The
ladies regarded him as a due composition of Hercules and Adonis." His
dancing on the tight rope at Bartholomew Fair was "a thing worth seeing
and mightily followed;" whilst his deeds of daring at Southwark Fair
were no less subjects of admiration and wonder. The countess was so
charmed by the performance of this athlete in public, that she became
desirous of conversation with him in private; and he was accordingly
introduced to her by Beck Marshall, the player. The countess found his
society so entertaining that she frequently visited him, a compliment
he courteously returned. Moreover, she allowed him a yearly salary, and
openly showed her admiration for him by having their portraits painted
in one picture: in which she is represented playing a fiddle, whilst he
leans over her, touching the strings of a guitar.
Her amours in general, and her intimacy with the rope-dancer in
particular, becoming common talk of the town, his majesty became
incensed; and it grieved him the more that one who dwelt in his palace,
and was yet under his protection, should divide her favours between a
king and a mountebank. Accordingly bitter feuds arose between her and
the monarch, when words of hatred, scorn, and defiance were freely
exchanged. His majesty upbraiding her with a love for the rope-dancer,
she replied with much spirit, "it very ill became him to throw out such
reproaches against her: that he had never ceased quarrelling unjustly
with her, ever since he had betrayed his own mean low inclinations: that
to gratify such a depraved taste as his, he wanted the pitiful strolling
actresses whom he had lately introduced into their society." Then came
fresh threats from the lips of the fury, followed by passionate storms
of tears.
The king, who loved ease greatly, and valued peace exceedingly, became
desirous of avoiding such harrowing scenes. Accordingly, he resolved to
enter into a treaty with his late mistress, by which he would consent
to grant her such concessions as she desired, providing she promised to
discontinue her intrigues with objectionable persons, and leave him to
pursue his ways without reproach. By mutual consent, his majesty and
the countess selected the Chevalier de Grammont to conduct this delicate
business; he being one in whose tact and judgment they had implicit
confidence. After various consultations and due consideration, it was
agreed the countess should abandon her amours with Henry Jermyn and
Jacob Hall, rail no more against Moll Davis or Nell Gwynn, or any other
of his majesty's favourites, in consideration for which Charles would
create her a duchess, and give her an additional pension in order to
support her fresh honours with becoming dignity.
And as the king found her residence in Whitehall no longer necessary
to his happiness, Berkshire House was purchased for her as a suitable
dwelling This great mansion, situated at the south-west corner of St.
James's Street, facing St. James's Palace, was surrounded by pleasant
gardens devised in the Dutch style, and was in every way a habitation
suited for a prince. This handsome gift was followed by a grant of the
revenues of the Post Office, amounting to four thousand seven hundred
pounds a year, which was at first paid her in weekly instalments. On
the 3rd of August, 1670, Barbara, Countess of Castlemaine, was created
Baroness Nonsuch, of Nonsuch Park, Surrey; Countess of Southampton; and
Duchess of Cleveland in the peerage of England. The reasons for
crowding these honours thick upon her were, as the patent stated, "in
consideration of her noble descent, her father's death in the service of
the crown, and by reason of her personal virtues."
Nor did his majesty's extravagant favours to her end here. She was now,
as Mr. Povy told his friend Pepys, "in a higher command over the king
than ever--not as a mistress, for she scorns him, but as a tyrant, to
command him." In consequence of this power, she was, two months after
her creation as duchess, presented by the monarch with the favourite
hunting seat of Henry VIII., the magnificent palace and great park of
Nonsuch, in the parishes of Cheam and Malden, in the county of Surrey.
And yet a year later, she received fresh proofs of his royal munificence
by the gift of "the manor, hundred, and advowson of Woking, county
Surrey; the manor and advowson of Chobham, the hundred of Blackheath and
Wootton, the manor of Bagshot (except the park, site of the manor and
manor-house, and the Bailiwick, and the office of the Bailiwick, called
Surrey Bailiwick, otherwise Bagshot Bailiwick), and the advowson of
Bisley, all in the same county."
Her wealth, the more notable at a time when the king was in debt, and
the nation impoverished from expenditure necessary to warfare, was
enormous. Andrew Marvell, writing in August, 1671, states: "Lord St.
John, Sir R. Howard, Sir John Bennet, and Sir W. Bicknell, the brewer,
have farmed the customs. They have signed and sealed ten thousand pounds
a year more to the Duchess of Cleveland; who has likewise near ten
thousand pounds a year out of the new farm of the country excise of Beer
and Ale; five thousand pounds a year out of the Post Office; and they
say, the reversion of all the King's Leases, the reversion of places all
in the Custom House, the green wax, and indeed what not? All promotions
spiritual and temporal pass under her cognizance."