CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY THIS BOOK IS ONE OF A COLLECTION MADE BY BENNO LOEWY 1854-1919 AND BEQUEATHED TO CORNELL UNIVERSITY S&„!i!SI^«s, ffii,S!?'">fiv ^-i^loff»f| Cornell University Library The original of tliis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924088005891 RE-ISSUE OF CHOICE ILLUSTRATED BOOKS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. ViZETELLY & Co. are now publishing English translations of some of the most charming illustrated volumes produced in France at the latter part of the 1 8th century. These works, so highly prized by amateurs, are distinguished for their numerous graceful designs by Eisen, Marillier, CncHiN, MoREAU, Le Barbier, &c., tinely engraved on copper by Le Mire, Longueil, Altamet, Bacquoy, Binet, Delaunay, and others. The volumes are all printed on hand-made paper, with large margins, and the principal engravings of a certain number of copies are printed on Japanese paper. A list of the earlier issues is subjoined. On hand-inoAe paper, 2\s. On Japanese paper (60 copies only), 4.2s. IVilh an extra set of all the Engravings in sanguine (10 copies only), ()^s. THE KISSES PRECEDED BY THE MONTH OF MAY. By Claude Joseph Dorat, Itfusketeer of the King. Illustrated with 47 Copperplate Engravings from designs by ElSEN and Marillier. On hand-made paper, \os. dd. With 2 sets of the page plates, one in black and the other in sanguine, on Japanese paper, l6s. DELIA BATHING. By the Marquis de Pezay. Fol- lowed by CELIA'S DOVES. By Claude Joseph Dorat. Illus- trated with 17 Copperplate Engravings from designs by EiSEN. On hand-made paper, l^s. With 2 sets. Hack and sanguine, of all the plates, on Japanese paper, 25J. THE TEMPLE OF GNIDUS. By Montesquieu, with a Preface by Octave Uzanne. Illustrated with 15 Copperplate Engravings from designs by Eisen and Le Barbier. On hand-made paper, \os. 6d. DAPHNIS AND CHLOE. By Longus. Illustrated with numerous Copperplate Engravings from designs by Eisen, Gerard, Prudhon, &c. On hand-made paper, 10s. 6d. With 2 sets, black and sanguine, of all the plates, on Japanese paper, ids. THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. By Mdlle. Dionis Dusejour. Illustrated with Copperplate Engravings from designs by Cochin. On hand-made paper, \os. 6d. With 2 sets, black and sanguine, of all the page plates, on Japanese paper, and with an extra set in sanguine of the other Engravings, also on Japanese paper, zis. BEAUTY'S DAY. By De Favre. Illustrated with lo Copperplate Engravings from designs by Leclerc. "The Excellent Mermaiu Sukies." — Spectator. " The admirably .selected and edited Mermaid Series of the Old Dramatists." — Tnith. THE BEST PLAYS OF THE OLD DRAMATISTS. Each Vol. contains 500 Pages and upwards, with Steel Engraved Portraits OR other Frontisi'ieces. IVitk a Victv of Old London sho7vi-/ig the Banksidc and its Theatres. THE BEST PLAYS OF JOHN FORD. Edited by Havelock Ellis. IVith Portrait of William \VycJicrIcy,f7-oiJi the picture by Sir P. Lcly. THE COMPLETE PLAYS OF WILLIAM WYCHERLEY. Edited, with an Introduction and Notes, by \V. C. Ward. With a Vie7ij of the Old Globe Theatre. THE BEST PLAYS OF WEBSTER AND TOURNEUR. With an Introduction and Notes by John Addington S\'monds. With a Po7-trait of Nathaiiicl Field, fro}n the pietiux at Duhuieh College. NERO AND OTHER PLAYS. Edited, with Introductory Essays and Notes, by H. P. Horne, Arthur Syimons, A. W. Verity, and H. Ellis. With a Portrait of James Shirley^frojii tJic picture hi the Bodleian Gallery, THE BEST PLAYS OF JAMES SHIRLEY. With an Introduction by Edmund Gosse. With a View of the Old Fortune Thcat^'C, forming the Frontispiece. THE BEST PLAYS OF THOMAS DEKKER. With Introductory Essay and Notes by Ernest Rhys. With a Portrait ofCongreve^from the picture by Sir Godfrey Kncller. - THE COMPLETE PLAYS OF WILLIAM CONGREVE. Edited and annotated by Alex. C. Ewald. 1)1 Two Vols., luith Portraits of Beaumont aiul Fletcher. THE BEST PLAYS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. With an Introduction and Notes by J. St. Loe Strachey. With a Portrait of M iddlctoit. THE BEST PLAYS OF THOMAS MIDDLETON. With an Intro- duction by Algernon Charles Swinburne. With afnll-le}igth Portrait ofAlleyn, the Ac to?; from the Picture at Dtiliuich College, the Third Edition of THE BEST PLAYS OF CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. Edited, with Critical Memoir and Notes, by Havelock Ellis, and containing a General Introduction to the Series by J. Addington Symonds. In Two Vols.,, with Po7-traits of Massingcr aiid T. Randolph,, the Second Edition of THE BEST PLAYS OF PHILIP MASSINGER. With a Critical and Biographical Essay and Notes by Arthur S\'Mons. To be followed bv THE BEST PLAYS OF THOMAS HEY WOOD, 2 vols., Edited by J. Addington Symonds and A. W. Verity— of THOJVIAS OTWAY, Edited by the Hon. Roden Noel— of BEN JONSON, 3 vols., Edited by Beiksley Nicholson and C. H. Herford — of SHADWELL, Edited bv George Saints;. BURY— of VAN BRUGH, Edited by W. C. Ward. MEMOIRS COUNT DE GRAMONT CONTAINING •THE ^cZfO%OUS HISTO%r OF THE E:\GLISH QOU'^T U:>(T)S% THE T{eiGi\ OF cif^%LSs n. o>»{c. COUNT ANTHONY HAMILTON. MEMOIRS Count de Gramont CONTAINING THE ^cMO%OUS HlSTO%r OF THE £J(GLISH COVSJ u:hsd£% the i^sig:^ of cH'^%les ii By count ANTHONY HAMILTON. Thk Translation carefl^lly Revised bv the Original Edition of 1713: and ACCORIFANIED BV NlMEKOUS ILLUSTRATIVE AND Exi'LANATORV NOTES. ILLUSTRATED WITH 17 ETCHINGS AND 34 PORTRAITS OF COURT BEAUTIES AND OTHER PERSONAGES OCCUPYING A PROMINENT PLACE IN THE MEMOIRS. Edited by Henry Vizetelly, AUTHOR OF "the STORY OF THE DIAMOND NECKLACE," "BERLIN UNDER THE NEW E:\n'lRE," &C. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. L LONDON: VIZETELLY &' CO., i6, HENRIETTA ST., CO VENT GARDEN. 1889. g,p-> 1 V, \ ^^99- .// PREFACE. Although many editions have been published of the Mai wires du Coiiite de Graviont, both in the original French and in English translations, very few of their editors appear to have taken the trouble to consult Hamilton's original text, while the English editors with- out exception have repeated all the errors perpetrated by Boyer in the first translation of the work. One striking instance of their carelessness may be referred to. Commentators, from Malonc downwards, have exercised their ingenuity in endeavouring to determine the name of the actress whom the Earl of Oxford tricked, and whom Cunningham successfully proved could not have been the performer of the character of Roxana as stated in the English versions of the Memoirs. Had any one among them looked into the original edition of Hamil- ton's work, much needless speculation might have been avoided, as it would have been at once seen that Hamil- ton speaks of Roxelane iaiig: Roxalana) and not of Roxana, as the name is printed by all the English and most of the French editors. Another ludicrous error which has crept into the English versions, relates to the pair of Martial's gloves sent by Miss Hamilton to Miss iv P-1{SFUCe. Blague. Martial, it should be mentioned, was the fashionable Parisian glove-maker of the epoch, but the translator being ignorant of this circumstance rendered the phrase " martial {i.c\, military) gloves," apparently not thinking that these would be rather a singular pre- sent to make to a lady, especially as it was intended she should wear them at an approaching Court ball. Some scores of errors, equally inexcusable as the fore- going, have been corrected in the present edition, which however makes no pretension to be regarded as a new translation of Hamilton's masterpiece. It simply claims to be a revision of the commonly accepted version, originally published nearly eighty years ago, and, ac- cording to Bohn's edition of Lowndes, edited by Sir Walter Scott. Although in the annotation of the present volumes free use has been made of the labours of former editors, it will be found upon examination that much the larger portion of the notes are original. It was scarcely practicable to distinguish these new notes from the old ones, owing to the latter being frequently inter- mingled with the former, besides being constantly sub- jected to amplification, condensation, or correction, as may have been considered necessary. As Hamilton records much of the scandal current at the English Court during Gramont's sojourn there, numerous illustrative extracts have been given from the lampoons of the time dealing with such matters. Pepys's Diary, too, has been largely quoted from ; for it must fS^FACe. V be remembered that Pepys gossips about most of the personages and many of the incidents introduced into tlie Memoirs, and that he largely confirms the general truth of Hamilton's account of the doings of Charles II. 's Court. In the Epilogue which follows the Memoirs, when describing the careers of the two rival duchesses, Ports- mouth and Mazarin, I have made free use of the English version of M. Forneron's Louise de Keroiialk, a book which is almost as lively and interesting as Hamilton's world-renowned narrative. It is unnecessary for me to expatiate upon the Memoirs themselves. Their merits from a literary point of view have been long since recognized, and their amusing incidents, so vivaciously described, have made them a general favourite with all classes of readers, not excepting even those who condemn their lax moral tone. Charles Lamb's paradoxical remarks on the characters of Congreve's and Wycherley's plays may be applied to the actors in Hamilton's sprightly, if occa- sionally graceless, scenes. " The business of their exist- ence is the undivided pursuit of lawless gallantry. No other spring of action or possible motive of conduct is recognized We are not to judge them by our usages. No reverend institutions are insulted by their proceedings — for they have none among them. No purity of the marriage bed is stained — for none is sup ■ posed to have a being. No deep affections are dis- quieted, no holy wedlock bands are snapped asunder — for vi F\£F^4CS. affection's depth and wedded faith are not of the growth of that soil . . . ." Hamilton's heroes and heroines are truly a society of themselves. How little the most important incidents transpiring in the outside world troubled the Court circle, whose trivial doings form the staple of Gramont's reminiscences, is evident from the circumstance that although London was visited by the double calamity of the Plague and the Great Fire, during the period over which the Memoirs extend, not the slightest allusion to either of these dire events occurs in any part of Hamilton's work. H. V. " I was," says Cunningham, " once willing to think that the publi- cation of Gramont's Memoirs had been withheld from motives of delicacy towards many persons mentioned in the work who were still alive. For instance, the Earl of Chesterfield, who makes so con- spicuous a figure there, and Progers, another person not very deli- cately referred to, were both removed by death in 171 3, the year in which the first edition was published. But this supposition is, I have since found, of very little value, for when the first Enghsh trans- lation appeared, eight different persons particularly referred to in the work were still living ; Sir Stephen Fox and Sir Charles Lyttelton, both of whom died in 1716 ; Lady Lyttelton (Miss Temple that was), who died in 171 8 ; the great Duke of Marl- borough, who died in 1722 ; Mrs. Godfrey (Arabella Churchill) and Mademoiselle de la Garde, both of whom died in 1730 ; the Duchess of Tyrconnel (Frances Jennings) who died in 1731 ; and the Duchess of Buccleuch (the widow of Monmouth and the Earl of Cornwallis), the last survivor of Hamilton's heroes and heroines, who died on Feb. 6, 1732, in the eighty-first year of her age. To three ladies — Jennings, Temple, and Arabella Churchill — the Memoirs of Gramont must have been a very unwelcome publica- tion." — S/ory of Nell Gwyn. CONTENTS. PAGE Anthony Hamilton ....... xiii The Gramonts xxiii Epistle to the Count de Gramont . . . i Introduction 23 Chapter I. 2S The Chevalier de Gramont at the siege of Trino — His intimacy with Count Matta — Their kixurious entertain- ments and extravagance — End of their resources — Dehberation between the Chevalier and Matta upon this emergency. 35 Chapter II The Chevalier's story : — His school days and his pre- sentation to Cardinal de Richelieu — He renounces the Church for the Army, and leaves home for the wars in Piedmont — He despoils his valet, Brinon, of the funds provided for the campaign, and is himself despoiled by a cunning horse-dealer at Lyons — The Chevalier's scheme to replenish his empty coffers at Trino — He wins fifteen hundred pistoles from the Count de Cameran, and sixteen horses from M. de Turenne's officers — The fall of Trino. Chapter III 56 The Chevalier and Matta lay siege to the beauties of Turin — Madame Royale and her Court — Matta's over-for- wardness in love-making and repugnance for Piedmont /'2 viii C0.'\TS3\J'S. PAGE customs — The Chevalier, after losing his time with Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain, forms designs upon the Marchioness de Senantes — Plot by which the husband and INIatta arc placed under arrest whilst the Chevalier obtains the Marchioness's favours. Chapter IV. ........ 89 The Chevalier's return to France — He makes his peace at Court — His luck at play with Cardinal j\Iazarin — He proceeds to Arras, and has an interview with the Prince de Conde — Pie cleverly eludes capture whilst conveying the news of Turenne's victory — Is embraced by the queen in presence of the entire Court — He boldly speaks his mind to the Cardinal — Peace of the Pyrenees and death of Mazarin— Louis XIV. assumes power and pays his addresses to Mademoiselle de la Motte-Houdancourt — Rivalry between the King and the Chevalier de Gra- mont — Exile of the Chevalier, who resolves to visit England. Chapter V. . . . . . . • . iig The Chevaliei-'s visits to London under the Commonwealth and at the Restoration — Marriage of Charles II. and Catherine of Braganza — The King and the Duke of York — The heroes and the beauties of the English Court — Queen Catherine and her Portuguese suite — The Cheva- lier's reception in England — Saint-Evremond gives him advice — Gramont lays siege to Mrs. Middleton and Miss Warmester — Rivalry between Miss Stewart and Lady Castlemaine — The latter's intrigue with Jacob Hall — Lady Shrewsbury and her lovers — Duel between Henry Jermyn and Thomas Howard — The Chevalier falls in love with Miss Hamilton. Chapter VL 156 Miss Hamilton's beauty and wit — She plans a practical joke upon Lady Muskerryand Miss Blague — Masquerade at Court — Loss of the Chevalier's coat in a quicksand — Lady Muskerry as the Princess of Babylon — Rivalry co.\Te:Mj's. between Miss Blague and Miss Price— Saint-Evremond lectures his hero — The Duke of Buclcingham and Lord Arhngton pay court to Miss Stewart — Intrigue between James Hamilton and Lady Chesterfield — llhiess of the Queen — Promenade of Court beauties — The Chevalier refuses the offer of a pension, and presents the King with an elegant coach. Chapter VIL ........ The Chevalier gives the King an account of the siege of Lerida — Conde's violins, and Don Gregorio Brice's cannonade — How the Chevalier came to appoint a dancing priest to be his chaplain, and dressed him in livery — The elder Russell's declaration to Miss Hamilton — The Chevalier learns from the King that he is freed from another rival — Ceremonious and jealous Lord Chesterfield — Coquetry of Lady Chesterfield with James Hamilton and the Duke of York. Appendix ......... 197 LIST OF PLATES TO VOL. L Promenade of Court Beauties. By H. Gray . Frontispiece. Count Anthony Hamilton . . . .To face page xiii Saint-Evremond . . . ByV. Parmentier. Count de Gramont Gramont being fleeced by the Basle horse- dealer By — Choquet . Gramont fleecing the Count de Cameran By — Choquet . Madame Royale, Duchess of Savoy . . . Gramont's passionate reception by the Mar- chioness de Senantes . By J. Chauvet . Anne of Austria . . . By B. Moncomet. Gramont chased by the Cravate By — Choquet Gramont embraced by the Queen in presence OF THE Court . Charles IL . Countess of Castlemaine Catherine of Braganza Mrs. Middleton Miss Stewart Mrs. Hyde Countess of Shrewsbury Miss Hamilton . Lady Muskerry as the Princess of Baby- lon By J. Chauvet . Duke of Buckingham Countess of Chesterfield . By Sir Peter Lely Gramont exhibiting his Treasure Chest By — Choquet . Earl of Chesterfield . . By Sir Peter Lely By H. Gray By R. Vason By Sir Peter Lely " In the gay crowd which thronged Whitehall during those scandalous years of jubilee which immediately followed the Restoration, the Hamiltons were pre-eminently conspicuous. The long fair ringlets, the radiant bloom and the languishing eyes of the lovely Elizabeth still charm us on the canvas of Lely. She had the glory of achieving no vulgar conquest. It was reserved for her voluptuous beauty and for her flippant wit to overcome the aversion which the cold-hearted and scoffing Gramont felt for the indissoluble tie. One of her brothers, Anthony, became the chronicler of that briUiant and dissolute society of which he had been not the least brilliant nor the least dissolute member. He deserves the high praise of having, though not a Frenchman, written the book which is, of all books, the most e.xquisitely French, both in spirit and in manner .... To him we owe the most highly finished and vividly coloured picture of the English Court in the days when the English Court was gayest." Macaulay's History of England, 1S5S, vul. iii. p. 151 ; vol. iv. p. 382. ( r'/rnf ^ f / / c/i r^^ / i / ' ^'/^ / / i r //, , / i ANTHONY HAMILTON. (g>,r>-!^^,^a^ NTHONY HAMILTON, the celebrated author V,'^ (fj-:^Sf^W^\ of the Memoirs of the Count de Grainont, was the third son of Sir George Hamilton, younger son of James, Earl of Abercorn, a native of Scotland. His mother was daughter of Lord Thurles, and sister to James, the first Duke of Ormond ; Anthony's family and connexions on the maternal side were therefore entirely Irish. He was him- self born in Ireland, about 1646, or more probably three or four years earlier. The place of his birth, according to family accounts, was Roscrea, in the county of Tipperary, where his father usually resided when not engaged on military or public business.' It has been stated that the family migrated to France when Anthony was an infant ; according to Carte, however, " Sir George Hamilton would have accompanied his brother-in-law, the Marquis of Ormond, to France, in December, 1650, but being receiver-general in Ire- land, he stayed to pass his accounts, which he did, to the satisfac- tion of all parties, notwithstanding much clamour had been raised against him." Having settled this business, Sir George took Lady Hamilton and his family— consisting of six sons, and three daughters— to France in the spring of 165 1, and resided with Lord 1 In September, 1646, Owen O'Neale took Roscrea, and, accorcling to Carte, "put man, woman, and child to the sword, except Sir George Hamilton's lady, sister to the Marquis of Ormond, and some few gentle- women whom he kept prisoners." xiv ^?iTBO.\^r HU^IILTOJ^^. and Lady Ormond, near Caen, in Normandy, in great poverty and distress, till the Marchioness of Ormond repaired to England, and, after much solicitation, obtained by the favour of Cromwell the grant of two thousand pounds a year from her own and her husband's estates in Ireland. The marchioness resided with the younger part of her family in Ireland from 1655 till after the Restoration ; while the Marquis of Ormond continued for much of that period with his two sisters. Lady Clancarty and Lady Hamilton, at the Feuillantines, in the Faubourg Saint-Jacques, in Paris. It appears that, although the marquis himself had been educated in the Protestant religion, his parents, brothers, and sisters were bred, and always continued Roman Catholics. Sir George Ham- ilton was also a Roman Catholic ; ^ and Anthony was brought up in that religion, and adhered to it through hfe. James,' the eldest of his five brothers, served in the English army, while Thomas, another of them, became a captain in the English navy. Anthony, however, with his brothers George, Richard, and John, entered the army of Louis XIV. at an early age. According to Father Daniel, author of a history of the French army, George Hamilton intro- duced the company of English gens-d'aniies into France, in 1667. Charles II., says this writer, brought to England at the Restora- tion several Catholic officers and soldiers, who had served abroad with him and his brother, the Duke of York, and incorporated them with his guards. The parliament, however, having obliged him to dismiss all Catholic officers, the king permitted George Hamilton to take such as were willing to accompany him to France, where Louis XIV. fornned them into a company of g-ens-d'armes, and, being highly pleased with them, became himself their captain, and appointed George Hamilton their captain-lieutenant.'' It is uncertain whether Anthony ever belonged to this particular corps ; still he distinguished himself in his profession, and was advanced to considerable posts in the French service. ^ Carte states that Charles L deprived several papi.sts of their military commissions, and, among others, Sir George Hamillon, who, notwith- standing, served him with loyaUy and unvarying fidelity. 3 See post, p. 129, note 7. ■■ They were of English, Scotch, and Irish nationalities. After the Restoration Anthony Hamilton spent several years in England, where he became acquainted with the Chevalier, after- wards Count de Gramont, who, on being exiled from the French, had repaired to the English Court. Gramont was greatly impressed with the beauty of Anthony's sister, Miss Elizabeth Hamilton, and eventually married her. After the departure of her husband and herself for France, Anthony, who appears to have been greatly attached to his sister, frequently crossed the Channel to visit her. On one of these occasions — in 1681 — when he was staying with the French Court at Saint-Germain, he was selected by Louis XIV. to take part in a ballet by Ouinault, entitled, T/ie TriumpJi of Love. Towards the close of Charles II.'s reign Anthony repaired to Ire- land, where many of his connexions remained, notably his two other sisters, one of whom was married to Matthew Ford, Esq., of the county of Wexford, and the other to Sir Donough O'Brien, who belonged to a branch of the Thomond family. When James II. succeeded to the throne, and commissions were again granted to the Roman Catholics, Anthony entered the Irish army, and in 1686 he was a lieutenant-colonel in Sir Thomas Newcomen's regiment. Henry, Earl of Clarendon, son to the lord-chancellor, was at that time lord -lieutenant of Ireland, and despite his general distrust and dislike of the Catholics, he appears to have held Anthony Hamilton in high estimation. In his cor- respondence he commends Anthony's knowledge of, and attention to, the duties of his profession ; his probity, and the dependence to be placed on him, in preference to others of the same rehgious persuasion. Writing to the Earl of Sunderland, in July, 1686, Clarendon remarks : " I have only this one thing more to trouble your lordship with at present, concerning Colonel Anthony Hamil- ton, to get him a commission to command as colonel, though he is but a lieutenant-colonel to Sir Thomas Newcomen, in regard of the commands he has had abroad ; and I am told it is often done in France, which makes me hope it will not be counted an unrea- sonable request. I would likewise humbly recommend to make Colonel Anthony Hamilton a privy councillor here." Lord Cla- rendon's recommendations were ultimately successlul : Hamilton xvi U\TH03\J' H.yivMIL'ro:^^. was made a privy councillor in Ireland, with a pension of 200/. a year ; and although he had strongly opposed the new-modelling of the army by the Duke of Tyrconnel, he was appointed governor of Limerick, in the room of Sir William King. Whether Anthony Hamilton was present at the battle of the Boyne, or of Aughrim, is not known, but he commanded the regi- ment of Macarthy dragoons at the engagement of Newton-Butler in 1689, and was then badly wounded. Anthony's brother John was killed at Aughrim, and Richard, who was a lieutenant-general, led on the Irish cavalry with uncommon gallantry and spirit at the Boyne. Brave as Richard may have been, he was unfortunately deficient in integrity, and William III.'s contemptuous echoing back his word to him, when he made some declaration on his "honour," is well known. After the overthrow of James II. in Ireland, Anthony and Richard Hamilton retired to France. The latter resided mainly with the Cardinal de Bouillon, the great pro- tector of the Irish exiles. The cardinal kept a magnificent table, according to that gay i^oimnet, Philippe de Coulanges, who in his Memoirs occasionally mentions "the amiable Richard Hamilton' as one of the cardinal's particular intimates. Anthony meanwhile took up his abode with the Court of James II. at Saint-GeiTnain, and turned his attention to literary pursuits. Much of his time seems to have rolled heavily along : his sister, the Countess de Gramont, resided more frequently at Versailles than suited his inclinations, and life at Saint-Germain was very dreary, as James II. had become extremely devout; and those around him made an exaggerated display of their religious convictions. This was not at all to Hamilton's liking ; and in sending part of a story, called " Zeneyda," to a lady, he remarked upon the number of priests and Jesuits lodged at the chateau of Saint-Germain, and added, " Our occupations appear serious, and our conduct seems very Christian ; for no quarter is shown to those who do not spend, or at least affect to spend, half the day in prayer." On another occasion he alluded in verse to "our sombre silent Court." Hamilton's great resource at Saint-Germain was the family of the famous Marshal Duke of Berwick, the natural son of James II., , ■i.XTHO.'Nir H^4^aLT0\^. xvii by i\Iiss Ambclla Churchill, whom Hamilton certainly does not flatter in the Gramont Memoirs. Berwick, who possessed as much genius for war as his uncle, the great Duke of Marlborough — for during fifteen campaigns in which he commanded the French armies, he was never once defeated — appears to have been of a most amiable disposition in private life. A dozen letters or so written to him by Hamilton when he was in Flanders and in Spain, show the pair to have been warm friends. Hamilton was also on intimate terms with the Duchess of Berwick, and her sisters Charlotte, Henrietta, and Laura. These ladies, who were the daughters of Henry Bulkely (son of the first viscount of that name), by Lady Sophia Stewart, sister to the beautiful Duchess of Rich- mond, all figure prominently in Hamilton's published correspond- ence, and were frequently the subjects of his verses, Charlotte being addressed or referred to as Lady Clare,'^ and Henrietta and Laura as the " Mesdemoiselles B." Anthony is said to have been a particular admirer of Henrietta Bulkely, but they were both extremely poor, which was in all probability the reason why they were never married. When Galland's translation of Tlie Arabian Nights first appeared, it was followed by numerous ridiculous imitations, which became greatly in fashion. Henrietta Bulkely derided these extravagant stories, and Hamilton, actuated by much the sanae spirit as Cervantes, when he turned chivalry into ridicule, forthwith penned his well-known talcs, " The Four Facardins," "Zeneyda,"" and " The History of May Flower." The latter was subsequently extolled by La Harpe as the work of an original genius ; 5 She had married Lord Clare, of the O'Brien family, who was killed at the battle of Ramillius. '> These have been Ir.ansmitted to us only in an incomplete form, and it is stated that Hamilton never finished them. Crebillon the younger often related, however, that in his youth he had been on friendly terms with a Miss Hamilton, niece of the author of the Gramont jSIemoirs. On one occasion this lady offered Crebillon a large packet of her uncle's papers, and on one of the various rolls he read the title "The Four Facardins : Part II." Unfortunately he neglected to take the papers away with him, and when he called for them a few days later he learnt that Miss Hamilton, having examined them and discovered that they were of a more or less equivocal character, had consigned them to the flames.— Note to the Count d'Artois' Edition of Hamilton's Worl;s, Paris, 17S1. and the two former ones were commended by Voltaire, who reserved, however, his highest praise for the poetical introduction of another of Hamilton's stories, styled "The Ram." This the patriarch of Ferney frequently quoted as a model of gracefulness. "The Ram" was written under somewhat peculiar circumstances. In 1703 Louis XIV. had presented Anthony's sister, the Countess de Gramont, who was high in the royal favour, with an elegant house near Meudon, on the Seine, which became so fashionable a resort among the courtiers' that the Count de Gramont said he should present the king with a list of all the persons he was obliged to entertain there, as being more suited to his majesty's purse than to his own. The countess greatly embellished this residence, which was called Le Moulineau, but this name displeasing her, she altered it to Pontalie, and requested her brother to devise some story explaining the new appellation. Hamilton thereupon wrote " The Ram," in which he introduces a giant called Moulineau, who had possessed the estate from time immemorial, an old druid, his neighbour, whose lovely daughter Alie was beloved by the giant and abhored him in return, and a Prince of Noisy, who was like- wise in love with Alie, and was, moreover, beloved by her. Some very extraordinary adventures were attributed in the story to these personages, and as a certain bridge figured prominently in various incidents, Hamilton contended that it had been called the Pont d'Alie (Alie's bridge) in memory of his heroine, and that in the course of time, the legend being forgotten, this name had become Pontalie and had been assigned to the entire estate : " Pont d'Alie was the gentle name Bestowed on this locality, Which by a luckless destiny With Moulineau beheld its fame Condemned to blank obscurity ; And though you've striven to reclaim Its ancient title's euphony, Corruption still the sound doth maim, And turns it into Pontalie." 7 Corrcspondance de Madame de Sevigne—'^lAAa.mz de Coulanges to Madame de Grignan, Aug. 5, 1703. .i:\THO:\r H^UirJLTO:\. xix The more poetical name which the Countess of Gramont had bestowed upon her estate was not, however, destined to survive, and to-day the locahty, which abounds in sand-pits, and retains no traces of the countess's elegant residence, is known by its old appellation of Le Moulineau. It was in 1704 that Hamilton turned his attention to collecting materials for the memoirs of his brother-in-law, the Count de Gramont. Towards the close of that year he wrote an epistle upon the desirability of recording the count's achievements ; and the favourable reception which several leading literary men of the time accorded to this work —a curious and graceful medley of prose and verse** — no doubt encouraged Hamilton in his design. Regarded from a literary point of view, the Memoirs are without doubt Hamilton's exclusive production, though with great modesty he asserts that he acts as the Count de Gramont's secretary, and merely holds the pen whilst his brother-in-law dictates to him the most remarkable and secret passages of his life. As Gramont was Hamilton's senior by more than twenty years, the earlier incidents of the count's career could only have been known to Hamilton from hearing him repeatedly describe them : indeed the whole of Gramont's adventures up to the time of his arrival in England may be considered to rest upon his own authority. On the other hand, the latter part of the Memoirs, relating to the Court of Charles II., may be ascribed almost entirely to Hamilton, who by his connec- tion with the Ormond family, and his habitual sojourn in the pre- cincts of the English Court, must have been well acquainted with the society that he depicts. Moreover, in several of the adventures recorded by him, his brothers James and George played con- spicuous parts, and it may be readily assumed that he obtained his information on these matters direct from them rather than from the Count de Gramont. Lady Chesterfield, to whom Anthony assigns such a prominent place in his work, was, it may be men- tioned, his cousin-german. ^ A translation of this Epistle prefaces the present edition of the Memoirs (see p. I e/ seq). The opinions pronounced upon this composition by the various poets with whom Hamilton was in correspondence will be found summarized in the notes to it. It is generally agreed that although the Count de Gramont was very witty in conversation, he was deficient in literary capacity, and it is evident that beyond supplying Hamilton with the information imparted in the earlier chapters of the work, he had little, if any, share in its composition. The story that the count himself sold the manuscript for fifteen hundred livres, and that on its being taken to Fontenelle, the then censor of the French press, the latter refused to license it upon the ground that the count was portrayed in it as an unprincipled gambler — has long since been disproved. When the first edition of the Memoirs was issued in 17 13, the Count de Gramont had been dead for seven years ; this edition, more- over, was printed in Holland, and to shroud its origin in some little mystery, it bore the name of Pierre Marteau, Cologne, upon the title-page as publisher. From a literary point of view the Memoirs have always been held in high estimation in France. M. Auger, in his introduction to an edition of Hamilton's writings issued in 1805, remarked that if any book were to be selected as affording the best specimen of perfect French gaiety, the Memoircs du Cointe de Gramont should be chosen in preference to all others. This opinion has been endorsed by numerous distinguished critics, and among others Sainte Beuve observes that " various foreigners, Horace Walpole, the Abbe Galiani, the Baron de Besenval, the Prince de Ligne, have been found possessing or imitating French wit wonderfully well but Hamilton attained in the Mciitoi?-cs du Coniie de Gramont to such a degree of excellence that one can detect in him no difference of nationality : he is French wit incarnate ; and thus though it may seem like a dream, an Englishman was the precursor of Voltaire in Voltaire's own language." It has been asserted that Hamilton, despite his reputation for wit and the gaiety that pervades his writings, was of anything but a lively disposition in society ; but on the other hand it has been remarked that what people took for gravity was his natural English rihlegm : " Englishmen," says Auger, " often preserve the most solemn demeanour whilst indulging in the most humorous sayings. Thus it was with Hamilton, and thus it happened that superficial ,>.i.X:THO\r H^liVILTO.X- xxi and dull-witted observers assumed that he was of a gloomy disposition."^ At the same time, Hamilton's muse does not seem to have been so facile a one as the perusal of his works might lead us to suppose. He himself made this admission in connection with his intercourse with the Duchess de Maine, grand-daughter of the great Conde, who had invited him to her Chateau of Sceau.K, where she kept a Court which divided its time between gallantry and letters. Whilst the duke her husband, — who was the son of Louis XIV. by Madame de Montespan, — sequestered himself in a tower where he studied geometry and astronomy, " Ludovisc," as the duchess was termed by her admirers, presided at gatherings of wit and beauty, held in an apartment which she called her Chartreuse. Others, however, styled it "the galleys of the mind," since the invited wits were at almost every moment required to furnish proof of their talent. The Duke de Xevers, the Abbe Genest, Saint-Aulaire and Malezieu always came well prepared with impromptus for the entertainment of the company, but Hamilton found the obligation extremely irksome. In a letter to a friend, dated Sceaux, July i, 1705, he alludes to " the monster commonly called Impromptu," and adds : " We have people here who know how to tame him and make him say the prettiest things in the world, but for myself, at the mere sight of Impromptu my mind becomes troubled and my rebellious Muse flies far away." Hamilton therefore, in all probability, com- posed at his leisure the few pieces of verse addressed to the Duchess de Maine which figure in his works. It has been already mentioned that the Mcinoircs dii Cointe de Grainont \\?.K originally issued in 1713. A few years afterwards Hamilton translated Pope's " Essay on Criticism," into French verse — and, it is said, so much to the English poet's satisfaction that the latter wrote him a polite letter of thanks and asked that the translation might be published. For some reason, however, it remained unknown until 1812, when a portion of it was inserted in a French edition of Hamilton's works. It was then perceived ' Notice on Hamilton : Hamilton's lVorI;s, 1S03. xxii ^■i.\THO,'\iT HUc'^[ILrO\j that the translation was not only a very poor rendering of the original, but greatly inferior, as poetry, to Hamilton's other verse. This inferiority was no doubt due rather to the uncongeniality of the subject than to any falling off in Hamilton's literary powers. When he was over seventy years of age he penned some verses "On the Employment of Life in Old Age," which his critics have unanimously commended. He was then still residing at Saint- Germain, and besides enjoying the society of a few remaining riends and literary acquaintances, he spent much of his time with his niece Charlotte de Gramont, Countess of Stafford, in whose name he carried on a lively correspondence with Lady Mary Wortley Montague. Hamilton died at Saint-Germain in April, 1720, aged about seventy-four. He is said to have passed the last days of his life in a religious frame of mind, although he had pre- viously shown himself somewhat of a sceptic. In addition to his literary renown he left behind him a reputation for candour and integrity, displayed on numerous occasions during his long career, the greater portion of which, as he himself expressed it, had been spent in mournful indigence. CHATEAU OF l;I[)ACIIK. THE GRAMONTS. *.^^ F that once powerful Iberian race which in prehistoric times peopled the greater part of south-western Europe, one section, that of the Basques — dwelling in the western l')re- nees, and retaining like the Breton race its ancient language and a sentiment of nation- ality — has alone subsisted in comparative homogeneity. In medieval times one of the leading Basque families was that of the Agaramunteks, who, as the French suze- rainty spread to the Pyrenees, became known as the Agramunts or Agramonts, and finally as the Gramonts.' It was under the latter ' Although the name is commonly spelt " (Irammont," we have preferred to follow the correct orthography adopted liy the modern representatives of the family. Nxiv THE g-1l-A^"irO\TS. name that the family really became famous, though it had pre- viously enjoyed a certain renown through the valour of Bergon Loup d'Agramont at the first Crusade. In the XVIth century the Gramonts had attained to considerable influence at the French Court, and one of them, Gabriel de Gramont, Bishop of Tarbes, accompanied Margaret of Angoulcrae to Spain when she proceeded there to negotiate with the Emperor Charles V. for the release of her brother, Francis I. The latter subsequently sent Gabriel dc Gramont as ambassador to Henry VIII. of England, who at the time was desirous of wedding his daughter Mary to the French king, whilst Francis, on his side, wished to arrange a marriage between his sister ?\Iargaret and Henry. Neither scheme succeeded, however, for Francis married Queen Eleanor of Portugal, and Henry preferred the fair Anne Boleyn to the talented but plain- featured authoress of T/ie Heptanieron. Gabriel de Gramont, being in orders, was necessarily unmarried, and the head of the family at that period — Francis, Lord of Gra- mont — had but one child, a daughter named Clara. The latter was wedded in 1525 to Menaud d'Aure, Viscount of Aster or Aste, and from this union sprang the modern line of the Gramonts ; Clara's son, Anthony, assuming his mother's name in accordance with the stipulations of her marriage contract." Menaud d'Aure had consented to this arrangement, though on his side he claimed an illustrious lineage, tracing his descent back to one of the early Navarrese kings — Sancho the Ca;sarian, so called from having been cut alive out of his mother's womb when she, upon the eve of her confinement, was massacred by the Moors. Sancho had become suzerain of the valley of Aure, which lies among the Pyrenees, south of Bagneres-de-Bigorre, and of this valley Menaud d'Aure was virtual ruler at the beginning of the XVIth century. Some fragments of his castle of Aste subsist in the environs of Bagn^res. Menaud's son, commonly called Anthony I. de Gramont, was married in 1549 to Helen de Clermont, Lady of Toulongcon, and played a prominent part in the religious wars of the period. In 1574, after the massacre of St. Bartholemew, Henry of Navarre, - M. Paulin Paris's Notes to Tallemant des Reaux's Historiettes, vol. iii. THE g%^i^lIO:XJS. XXV then a prisoner at the Louvre, was compelled to abjure the Protes- tant faith, and, acting under compulsion, he ordered Anthony de Gramont to re-establish the Catholic religion in Beam. Anthony, who held the office of governor-general of the province, at once repaired to his castle of Hagetmau, some fifteen miles from Mont- de-Marsan, and there assembled two hundred and fifty nobles, in view of carrying out the instructions he had received. But his plans were frustrated by the Calvinist Baron d'Arros, who secretly despatched his son with a band of followers to Hagetmau, where the assembled nobles were surprised and with but few exceptions put to the sword. Young D'Arros was even about to kill the Count de Gramont, whom he had captured, when a young and beautiful woman begged of him to spare his prisoner's life. This lady was the celebrated Diana d'Andoins, wife of Philibert de Gramont, the count's eldest son. D'Arros yielded to her entreaties, and upon his return his father upbraided him for having " spared the raven who would pluck out his eyes."-' Two years later, in 1576, Anthony I. de Gramont died, and Phili- bert succeeded to the family honours, holding the offices of sene- schal of Beam, governor of Bayonnc, and mayor of Bordeaux. His wife Diana was the only child of Paul d'Andoins, Viscount de Louvigny, and Lord of Lescun, whom Brantome styles " a brave gentleman," adding that he was killed beside the Duke de Guise (father of Henri le Balafre) when the troops of Charles IX. captured Rouen from the Huguenots in 1562. Diana d'Andoins is said to have been bom about 1554, and to have been wedded to Philibert de Gramont in 1567, when she was only thirteen years of age, the marriage being consummated at a later date.^ Her husband is frequently mentioned by L'Estoile, who calls him a Gascon of great valour and hope, but at the same time mentions that he was one of the mignoiis of Henry III.'' Gramont not only enjoyed a repu- tation for bravery, but he was also noted for his quarrelsome dis- position. In 1578, upon the occasion of some dispute between ■^ D'Aubigiie's History of the Reforiuatioii. ^ De Lcscure's Les Amours de Henri IV., 1S64, p. 123. ^ yoiirnal dcs regnes de Henri III. et de Henri IV. xxvi -THE rj^^z7\rO\TS. Philibert and Bussy d'Amboise, it was planned that they should fight together at the Porte St. Antoine, Paris, each being supported by three hundred gentlemen, who were to join in the fray. This murderous enterprise was, however, frustrated. Three years previously, Henry of Navarre, upon his escape from the Court of France, had paid a visit to Philibert de Gramont and had become acquainted with the fair Diana, with whom, according to some writers, he immediately fell in love. Sully, whojc authority is of great weight, states, however, that ths king's passion for Corisanda — as the countess is often called — was not conspicuous until 1583,'^ that is eight years after the date usually assigned to it, and three years after the death of the Count de Gramont.' Nevertheless, Henry of Navarre is generally considered to have been the father of the countess's son, Anthony H. de Gramont, to whom she gave birth during wedlock. This view is supported by the statements of the Count de Gramont himself in the present Memoirs,* and also by the well known seventeenth-century romance, Les Atnours die Gnmd Alcand)-e, in which, however, fact and fiction are largely intermingled.' There is also a story to the effect that " the Duke of Orleans (Gaston, brother to Louis XIII.) once told the Count (Anthony II.) de Gramont, that he was his brother, since his father, Henry IV., had slept with his (the count's) mother. The count thereupon admitted that the king had slept with his mother, but he added that there had always been a log between them ; for which reason the Duke of Orleans usually called the Count de Gramont ' his brother log.' " '" E Meiiioircs, vol i. p. 39. ' This took place at the .siege of La Fere, in August, 15S0, when the count was but twenty-eight years of age. One of his arms was carried off by a discharge of musketry, and he died from the effects of the wound. " See/orf, p. 36. 'J In support of this same view, M. Paul Boiteau contends in his notes to the Histoire Amoureuse des Gajilcs (vol, i. p. 135) that the reason wliy the Gramonts of the time of Louis XIV., including the hero of the Memoirs, were received into such high favour by the king, was on account of their left-handed descent from Henry of Navarre, who was Louis XIV.'s grand- father. 1" Observations sur Akaudn ct sa dcf. Journal de Henri III., 1720, vol. i. p. 270. THE g'I{.-.i^[0:\TS. xxvii However, whether Henry of Navarre was the father of Anthony 1 1, dc Gramont or not, it is at least certain that he was warmly attached to the Countess Diana, and that she both reciprocated his oassion and displayed the greatest devotion to his interests. During the struggle which has been called '' the war of the three Henrys," she mortgaged her estates and sold and pawned her jewels in view of supplying her lover with troops and horses, and he, on his side, gave her repeated proofs of his affection. In March, 1586, after forcing Marshal de IMatignon to raise the siege of Castel, he carried the standards which he had captured in the engagement, to his mistress; and again in October, 1587, after the battle of Coutras, he forfeited all the advantages which he had gained by this victory in order to cross France from the Loire to the Pyre- nees, and lay some more of the enemy's flags at Corisanda's feet." The countess was then residing at the Castle of Guiche, in the valley of the river Bidouze, between Bayonne and Pau, and it was there that she received the captured banners. Some remnants of the grand hall in which the presentation is said to have been made, still e.\ist, together with the ruined ramparts and keep, which date apparently from the XHlth century, and show that Guiche was formerly a formidable stronghold, commanding the Bidouze and its valley for miles around.'" For several years King Henry carried on a voluminous corre- spondence with the Countess Diana, writing to her not only about his love, but also concerning his political hopes and his military experiences." She was the confidant of all his secrets, and was ever tendering him advice and help. A result of the intrigue was the birth of a son, who died in infancy in 1590, and after this event the king's passion suddenly cooled, though for a time he continued " De Lescure's Les Amours de Henri 11'., p. 127. '- M. Paul Perret's Pyrciitcs Franeaises, vol. ii. p. 208. •^ Thirty-seven letters written by Henry IV. to Corisanda were collected and preserved by the Count d'Argenson, and afterwards became the pro- perty of President Renault, by whom they were communicated to La Place. The latter published them in the Mercure in 1765-66. The originals are now in the Arsenal Library at Paris. Several other letters belonging to the correspondence were discovered at various periods, and the entire col- lection will be found in Berger de Xivrey's Recueil des Lettres Missives de Henri IV. xxviii THE (j-]{;icl[O.XT.'<. to write to the countess and still protested his devotion. Finally in Mareh, i59T,he ceased to correspond with her ; Oabriclle d'Estrees had then become his mistress.'' The date of the Countess Diana's death is uncertain, but accord- ing to most authorities it occurred between 1620 and 1625. Her son Anthony II. dc Gramont, who was styled Count de Gramont, CII.XTF.AU OF r.tHCTIE. Guiclic, and Louvicjny, \'iscount d'Aste, sovereii;!! prince of liidache and viceroy of Nawarre, had, in 1601, espoused Louisa, dau^diter of the fii-st ^Marshal de Roquelaure, by whom he had two sons, Anthony III. dc Gramont, and Roger, Count dc Louvigny. He had been married for nine years when he made a most unplea- sant discovery and tragical consequences followed. "The Count," writes Malherbe, under date April 1, iCio, " surprised his wife in adultery with Narfizian, his equerry, whom he slew on the spot." '■' Les Amours dc I{cnri IV., pp. ibd-li ■THE gX-yUlfOCxJIS. xxix Eight months afterwards the Countess Louisa expired, and it was rumoured that her husband had poisoned her.'» He remained a widower until the spring of i6iS, when ho was again married, this time to Claude de IVIontmorency, eldest daughter of Louis, Baron de Boutteville, by wdiom he had two sons and four daughters, the sons being Henry, Count de Toulongeon, and Philibert, known suc- cessively as the Abbe, Chevalier and Count de Gramont. This last, born in 162 1, is the hero of the Memoirs. There is no occasion to enlarge upon the career of this gay and lax-principled courtier. His early life and middle age are described in Hamilton's narrative, and some account of his later years will be found in the sequel to the present edition of the Memoirs. We may, however, remark that Philibert do Gramont occupies in the history of the XV 11th century, much the same position as the Marshal de Richelieu filled a century later. The points of resemblance between Gramont and Richelieu will in fact be found numerous and striking if we put on one side the prolonged stay of Gramont in England. Both rose to notoriety during the troubled times of a royal minority, both revolted against the provisional government of the period and braved the minister who exercised authority, the said minister be'ng in either instance a cardinal. Moreover they both accjuired habits of gallantry when very young, and retained them until an advanced age without appearing ridiculous. Gramont set himself up as Louis XIV.'s rival in love, Richelieu robbed the Regent of all his mistresses and was often favoured by those of Louis XV. Both displayed mingled coolness and vivacity in warfare : that prompt and facile inspira- tion which gained them more success than deep thought and experience would have procured. Both married more or less under compulsion, both proved equally fickle and perfidious in their amours, and both were witty and accomplished raconteurs, but very indifferent writers. Richelieu no doubt was celebrated by Voltaire, but Gramont had Saint-Evremond and Hamilton to sing his praises ; and there is this much in common between these '" L'Estoile's Journal des rignes de Henri III., &=€. XXX THE g'Ti,^^ifo:\rs. writers— they all three spent the greater part of their lives in exile, on account of their political opinions. Several of the points of resemblance between Gramont and Richelieu that we have traced were undoubtedly the result of chance ; still the young nobles of the eighteenth century looked upon Hamilton's masterpiece as their breviary, and it is not surprising that the Duke de Richelieu should have taken Gramont as his guide and model. Chamfort, the well-known wit, declared such to be the case, adding that the marshal "could flatter himself that he was Gramont's best pupil.""! As in various parts of the Memoirs allusion is made to several members of Gramont's family, some particulars concerning his brothers, sisters, and other near relations may here be given. When Gramont made his entry into the world he was presented to Cardinal de Richelieu by his brother, or rather step-brother, An- thony 111. de Gramont, who, until his father died in August, 1644, was known either as the Count or as the Marshal de Guiche. In the Memoirs, however, he is invariably styled the Marshal de Gramont. Anthony III. stood very high in Richelieu's favour by reason of his marriage with Frances Margaret, daughter of Hector du Plessis-Chivre, one of the all-powerful minister's relatives. He was generally considered to be an adroit and supple courtier, and has been described as "an eloquent witty Gascon, bold in over- praising ;" '' but on the other hand he has been accused of unnatural vices and avarice, and of arrogance towards his inferiors.'^ In his younger days he appears to have been the victim of several practical jokes on the part of his companions, who would hold him down, rip up the seams of his clothes, shorten his coat-tails, or stuff him with mushrooms to the point of suffocation." He had been a frequenter for a time of the Hotel de Rambouillet, but did not prove a very skilful versifier, and he soon entered the army, in which he rose to the highest rank. It was at Mantua in i" M. Auger's Notice in the CEuvres d'Anloine Hamilton, Paris, 1803 ; 3 vols. 1' Madame de Motteville's Mcmoires, vol. ii. p. 218. 18 Tallemant des Reaiix's Historiettes, vol. iii. p. iSo. " Ibid., vol. ii. p. 492. ■THE g-l{jA^irO.XTS. xxxi 1629 — 30 that he tirst distinguished himself in a military sense, and he subsequently took part in most of the ci\ il broils and foreign wars of Louis Xlll.'s reign. He was already a Marshal of France when in 1642 he commanded the royal troops at Honnecourt, an engagement which he is said to have purposely lost in obedience to the instructions of Richelieu, who wished to prolong the war. In 1644 Anthony de Gramont obtained the colonelcy of the royal guard or Gardes Frangaises, which post he held, at least nominally, until 1672, when he resigned in favour of his son, the notorious Count Armand de Guiche. In 164S he was created a duke by Anne of Austria, and in 1660 Louis Xl\\ despatched him to Spain to solicit the hand of the Infanta ?ilaria Theresa. A twelvemonth later, upon the death of Cardinal Mazarin, to whom he had shown as much devotion as to Richelieu, he retired from the Court, and thenceforth mainly occupied himself in governing the province of Beam, and in embellishing the family chateau of Bidache, to which a passing reference is made in the INIemoirs.™ From this stately pile, perched upon a promontory overlooking the river Bidouze, at three or four miles from Guiche," the Gramonts exercised sove- reign sway over a considerable tract of country, forming as it were a state within a state. It was here that Marshal Anthony III. mainly resided during his retirement, which lasted until his death at Bayonne in July, 167S. jMention is made in the IMemoirs of Henry, Count de Toulongeon, who was Gramont's own brother, and the owner of the Chateau de Semeac, which Saint-Evremond's hero appears to have long » See/osf, p. 39. -' See an/e, p. xxvii. The chateau of Bidache had been de.stroyed a first time in 1522 by the Prince of Orange, commanding the troops of the Emperor Charles ^^ ; and in 1623 a Spanish army, 24,000 strong, again besieged it. On this occasion it held out for twenty days, and being then taken by assault, was pillaged, together with the little town it had pro- tected. Anthony III. de Gramont restored the old pile, which continued in admirable preservation until 1739, when it was fired by the Terrorists. The ruins are very extensive, and here and there some graceful sculpture still remains, the entrance, for instance, being decorated with several bas- reliefs, in which, curiously enough, a group of Cupids is shown enacting the Holy Passion. — M. Paul Perret's Pyrenees Francaises. xol. ii. pp. 211- 220. xxxii THE gj^^'i^iror\Ts. co\-ctcd. Beyond the few refei'enccs contained in Hamilton's nan-ative,-= all that we know of the Count dc Toulongeon is that lie died unmarried in September, 1679, and that Philibert de "'gEt 5_^^^iliL^i''jjm'^■fa «-■ K Jrt .*„ ti if rii \Tr \u 01 rin\( HP, rroM inr riDin/i Gramonl then inherited his jiropcrty, including the Chateau ol Seme'ac, which still exists immediately outside the town of Tarbes, in the department of the Hautes Pyrenees."' -- See/w/, pp. 179, iSi. -■■' In some previous editions of the Memoirs, tlie eduois, misreadinc; the reference to Semc.ic in Hamillon's Epistle to the count, have placed the chateau on the banks of the Garonne, whereas it is situateil on the Adour in the Hautes I'yrent'cs. •THE g%ym[0:\rS. xxxiii Respecting Roger, Count de Louvigny, who, like Marshal Anthony, was only a step-brother of Gramont's, the Memoirs are silent. This is not surprising, as Roger died in 1629, when Phili- bert was merely eight )ears old. Roger was notorious for his eccentricity, and at one time only possessed a single shirt, and a single ruff, which had to be washed e\cry night. One morning when Gaston, Duke of Orleans, to whom he had attached himself, required his attendance, he sent word that he was unable to come, as his shirt uas not yet dry. On another occasion, when he was badly splashed with mud, a friend remarked to him that the stockings he was wearing were spoilt. " Oh ! that is of no consequence," replied Louvigny, shrugging his shoulders, "they don't belong to me ! '' It would seem that Louvigny was not merely cynical, but something worse, for he is said to have given ^Marshal d'Hocquincourt a treacherous thrust in a duel, and it was owing to his evidence that his friend Chalais, who had conspired against Richelieu, was sent to the scaffold. -■" Passing from Philibert de Gramont's brothers to his four sisters, it will be found that the Memoirs only mention the eldest of them, Susan Charlotte, who married Henry Mitte de Miolans, ^Marquis de Saint-Chaumont. ^Marshal Anthony III. spoke of her as a person possessed of less judgment than she imagined, but on the other hand, she has been described as very witty, and well con- ducted, with a talent for writing prose. -^ She frequented the Hotel de Rambouillet, -where among the J»rd£iiscs she was known as Sina'ide, and she figured prominently at the Court of Louis XI'V., where she held the office of gouvcniaiile to the children of the Duke of Orleans (father of the Regent) — a post w-hich she had obtained in competition with Madame de ^Nlotteville, thanks to the support of Olympia T\Iancini, Countess of Soissons.-" Of her sisters, Anne Louisa became the wife of Isaac, Marcjuis de Feu- "■* Tallemant des Reau.x's Ilisloi-ie/lcs, vol. iii. p. 191. -5 Somaize's Diclionnaire dcs Prcdcuscs. The statement that she was well conducted is scarcely in keeping with the part she is said to have played in furthering the amours of her nephew, the Count de Guiche. See post, p. xxxiv. -!• }iladame de Motteville's JMimoireSy vol. v. p. 158. xxxiv THE g%.yUlf0^irS. quisles, and played a part at Court, like most of her relatives, while Frances Margaret was wedded to the Marquis de Lons, a Bearnese nobleman. The youngest girl, Charlotte Catherine, took the veil, and became Abbess of the convent of Our Lady of Ronccray, at Angers. Philibert de Gramont's name has often been associated with that of his nephew Armand, Count de Guiche, who was the eldest son of Marshal Anthony III. They competed together for the affections of the Countess de Fiesque, and Armand is said to have supplanted his uncle, at least for a short time."'' The Count de Guiche, who was noted for his good looks, was a singular com- pound of bravery, presumption, and vice. Born in 1638 he was married at the age of twenty to Margaret Louisa de Bethune, granddaughter to Chancellor Seguier, and then but thirteen years old. He virtually deserted her at the first opportunity, and became the favourite of the Duke of Anjou, afterwards Duke of Orleans. The memoirs, pamphlets, and lampoons of the period accuse the Count de Guiche not only of an intrigue with the duke's wife, Henrietta of England, daughter of Charles I., but also of an immoral connection with the duke himself, and with various young noblemen at Court. Still he was incessantly paying his addresses to one or another beauty — notably Madame de Brissac — and appears to have been favourably received by them at first, on account of his exceptionally handsome face. The ladies soon, however, discovered that he was deficient in manliness, and thence- forward he was mercilessly satirized. He was sent into exile upon two occasions ; in the first instance for having intrigued against the royal favourite La Valliere,^ and the second time for having courted Henrietta of England, Duchess of Orleans,^' whom he solicited through his aunt, Madame de Saint-Chaumont.'" When ordered into exile on this occasion, he retired to Holland, and several years elapsed before his uncle Philibert de Gramont was -' Histoire Avwiireuse des Gaiiles, vol. i. p. 62, et scq. -^ See post, vol. ii. p. 187. ^ Madame de Motteville's Mcnwires, vol. v. p. 536. ^^ Lettres Je Madame {Vxmztii Palatine), Sept. 30, 1718. 'THE g%,4cV0^^TS. XXXV able to obtain his recall, a favour which his father with all his credit had repeatedly but in vain solicited.^' Whatever may have been the faults and vices of the Count de Guiche, he was certainly endowed with courage. He fought bravely in Holland, and at the celebrated passage of the Rhine, he was, as Boileau has recorded in verse, the first to ford the river under the eyes of Louis XIV. In November, 1673, when but thirty-five years of ago, he died at Creuznach, in the Palatinate ; and when the news reached the Court, his mother and the wife whom he had long since deserted, were the only persons who bestowed upon him a thought or a tear.'- Vice was certainly the distinguishing feature of this generation of the Gramonts, for Catherine Charlotte, the Count de Guichc's sister, also left a most unenviable reputation behind her. She is said to have been beautiful and amiable''^ — even "very witty, very loving, and visibly charming ";^^ but her wit has been denied by a competent judge ; ■''' and, what is far more to her discredit, her immorality is stated to have been of the grossest description.'" The ugly and stunted Duke de Lauzun, who turned the heads of so many Court beauties, including even that of Mademoiselle de Montpensier, cast his libidinous eyes upon Catherine Charlotte after she had married the Prince of Monaco; and she not only yielded to his desires, but also responded to the advances of Louis XIV., and the Marquis de Villeroi. Lauzun, who was jealous of the king, refused one night to leave his mistress's apart- ments, when the grand vionarque wished to interview the lady, and his majesty was kept waiting in a passage until daybreak. The result was an outburst of royal anger, which Lauzun impru- 31 In a letter addressed to the Count de Lionne, first master of the horse to Louis XIV., Saint-Evremond, alluding to the recall of the Count de Guiche, observes : " I was forgetting to desire you to assure the Count de Gramont that I am overjoyed to see him the protector of the House of Gramont." '- Latres de Madame de Shngne, Dec. 8 and 25, 1673. 33 Mademoiselle de Montpensier 's Mcmoires, vol. iii. p. 449. ^-i Madame de Courcelles' Memoires, Elzevirian Edit., p. 84. 35 Lettres de Madame de Sevigni. 3' Lettres de Madame, Oct. 14, 1718. xxxvi THE g%^Q.'WO:\TS. dently resented, whereupon he was summarily sent to the Bastille/'' As for the Princess of Monaco, in the course of her various amours, she contracted a disease from the effects of which she died in 1678, at the age of thirty nine. It was reserved for Anthony Charles, Marquis de Louvigny, second son of Marshal Anthony III. de Gramont, to perpetuate the family name. The pamphlets of the period assert that he was as vicious as his brother, the Count de Guiche. It is possible that he is the Louvigny alluded to in the Memoirs as figuring among the officers of Conde's army at Arras in 1654,^^ though he would then have been only in his teens. He was married to Mary Charlotte, daughter of Marshal de Castelnau, in 1668, became Duke of Gramont upon his father's death ten years later, and lived until 1720 — dying at about the same time as Anthony Hamilton : the hero of the Memoirs had been laid to rest thirteen years pre- viously — Saint-Evremond's " eternal theme " already belonged to the past. We may here fittingly close this record of a family, who for several centuries exercised considerable influence in France, and whose name was associated with an historic event so recently as 1870, when the Duke Agenor de Gramont, Minister of Foreign Affairs to the Emperor Napoleon III., read the French declaration of war against Germany in the tribune of the Corps Legislatif. ^^ Memoircs de r Abbe de Clwisy {Collation Muhaiul], p. 631. ^ See fosl, p. 99. EPISTLE TO THE COUNT DE GRAMONT, FROM ANTHONY HAMILTON, (IN HIS OWN AND HIS BROTHER'S' NAME.) Thou, the glory of the shore, Where Corisanda saw the day, The blessed abode of Menaudaure ;- Thou, whom the fates have doomed to stray Far from that pleasant shore away, On which the sun, at parting, smiles, Ere, gliding o'er the Pyrenees, Spain's tawny visages he sees, And sinks behind the happy isles ; Thou, who of mighty monarch's Court So long hast shone unerring star. Unmatched in earnest or in sport, In love, in frolic, and in war ! ' Richard Hamilton, who had commanded ihe Irish horse at the battle of the B' lyne, and who, when James's cause was lost, retired to France. - Corisanda was the Count de Gramont's grandmother, and was ccle- lirated for her beauty. Menaud d'Aure was one of the founders of the Gramont family. See atite, p. xxiv, t. B z STISTLS TO THE To you, sir, this invocation, must needs be addressed ; for whom else could it suit? but you may be puzzled even to guess who invokes )'ou, since you have heard nothing of us for an age, and since so long an absence may have utterly effaced us from your memory. Yet we venture to flatter ourselves that it may be other- wise — ■ For who was e'er forgot by thee ? Witness, at Lerida, Don Brice,^ And Barcelona's lady nice, Donna Ragueza, fair and free ; Witness, too, Boniface at Breda, And Catalonian and Gasconne, From Bordeaux walls to far Bayonne, From Perpignan to Puycerda, And we, your friends of fair Garonne. Even in these distant and peaceful regions, we hear, by daily report, that you are more agreeable, more un- equalled, and more marvellous than ever. Our country neighbours, great news-mongers, apprized by their cor- respondents of the lively sallies with which you surprise the Court, often ask us if you are not the grandson of that famous Chevalier de Gramont, of whom such wonders are recorded in the history of the Civil Wars? Indignant that your character should be so little known in a country where your name is known so well, we had formed a plan of giving here some idea of your merits. But who are we, that we should attempt the task ? With talents naturally but indifferent, and now rusted ^ Don Brice is celebrated in Chap. VII. of the Memoirs. See/cj/, p. 197. by long interniption of all intercourse with the Court, how were it possible for us to display taste and polish, excelling all that is to be found elsewhere, and which yet must be the attributes of those fit to make you their theme ? Can mediocrity avail, To follow forth such high emprize ? In vain our zeal to please you tries, Where noblest talents well might fail : Where loftiest bards might yield the pen, And own 'twere rash to dare, 'Tis meet that country gentlemen Be silent in despair. We therefore limited our task to registering all the remarkable particulars of your life which our memory could supply, in order to communicate those materials to the most skilful writers of the metropolis. But the choice embarrassed us. Sometimes we thought of addressing our memoirs to the Academy, persuaded that as you had formerly sustained a logical thesis,* you must know enough to qualify you to be received a member of that illustrious body, and praised from head to foot upon the day of admission. Sometimes, again, we thought, that, as, to all appearance, nobody will sur- vive to pronounce your eulogium when you are no more, it ought to be delivered by anticipation, by the reverend Fathers Massillon or Dc la Rue. But we considered that the first of these expedients was not suited to your rank, and that, as to the second, it Avould be to swathe you ■* Presumably, when he was educated for the Church. B 2 4 SPISTLS TO THE while yet alive in the tropes of a funeral sermon. The celebrated Boileau next occurred to us, and we believed at first that he was the very person we wanted ; but a few moments' reflection satisfied us that he would not answer our purpose. Sovereign of wit, he sits alone, And joys him in his glory won ; Or, if, in history to live, The first of monarchs' feats he give, Attentive Phcebus guides his hand. And memory's daughters round him stand ; He might consign, and only he, Thy fame to immortality. Yet, vixen still, his muse would mix Her playful but malicious tricks, Which friendship scarce might smother. So gambols the ambiguous cat. Deals with one paw a velvet pat, And scratches you with t'other.^ ' Hamilton having sent a copy of tlie present Epistle to Boileau, the latter acknowledged its receipt in the following terms : — " Paris, February 8, 1705. " In replying to your obliging letter I ought properly, sir, to return you the pleasant manuscript which you caused to be handed to me ; but not feeling disposed to part with it, I have considered that I could no longer defer thanking you and telling you tiiat I have read it with extreme pleasure — the whole having appeared to me equally delicate, witty, agree- able, and ingenious. Indeed I have found nothing to complain of excepting that it is not long enough. .Still that does not appear to me a defect in a work of this nature, in which one should exhibit a free style, and, in my opinion, even affect at times a little negligence. However, sir, as in the part of this manuscript where you speak of me so highly, you assert that if I undertook to praise the Count de Gramont I should, whilst flattering him, run the risk of scratching his face, allow me to transcribe here some lines which escaped me this morning whilst reflecting upon the vigour and wit which this illustrious count still retains, and which I admire the more as, although far from being as old as he is, I feel COU.XT ®s g%.A<:Mo:xj: 5 The next expedient which occurred to us was to have your portrait displayed at full length in that miscellany in which one lately saw such an excellent letter from the illustrious chief of your house. Here is the direction we obtained for that purpose : Not far from that superb abode Where Paris bids her monarchs dwell, Retiring from the Louvre's road, The office*' opes its fruitful cell, In choice of authors nothing nice, To every work, of every price. However rhymed, however writ, Especially to folks of wit, When by rare chance on such they hit. From thence each month, in gallant quire. Flit sonneteers in tuneful sallies, All tender heroes of their alleys. By verse familiar who aspire the little talent I may formerly have possessed altogether diminished and drawing to a elose. For this reason I wrote : " ' Formed of a purer clay, blest with eternal spring, Gramont defies the frosts which others feel in time : Still does he grace the Court, brilliant as in his prime, Still from his smiling lips do dainty jests take wing ; His wit no rival brooks, nor beauty e'er resists, His life of one long span of beaming youth consists — Thus of his eighty years may poets fitly sing.' " I beg of you, sir, to inform me whether he is scratched at all in these lines, and to believe that I am, with all due sincerity and respect, your, &c. , &c. , Boileau-Despr£aux." « The office of the Meniire Galant, the second newspaper founded in France, the first being the Gazette de France which still exists. The Merciire, established by John Donneau de \'ize in 167 1 was at the outset almost exclusively devoted to belles /f«rM— short stories, news respectmg the Academy, and verse of every description. In 1714, however, the title was altered to that of the Merciire de France, and at the same time the character of the paper was changed. 6 STISTLS TO THE To seize the honoured name of poet. Some scream, on mistimed pipes and whistles, Pastorals and amorous epistles ; Some, twining worthless wreath, bestow it On bards and warriors of their own, In camp and chronicle unknown. Here, never rare, though ever new, Riddle, in veil fantastic screening, Presents, in its mysterious masque, A useless yet laborious task To loungers who have nought to do. But puzzle out its senseless meaning. 'Tis here, too, that, in transports old, New elegies are monthly moaning ; Here, too, the dead their lists unfold. Telling of heirs and widows groaning. Telling what sums were left to glad them ; And here in copper-plate they shine, Shewing their features, rank, and line, And all their arms, and whence they had them. We soon saw it would be impossible to crowd you, with propriety, into so miscellaneous a miscellany ; and these various difficulties at length reconciled us to our original intention of attempting the adventure ourselves, despite of our insufficiency, and of calling to our assistance two persons whom we have not the honour to know, but some of whose compositions have reached us. In order to propitiate them by some civilities, one of us (he who wears at his ear that pearl, which, you used to say, his mother had hung there out of devotion), began to invoke them, as you shall hear. O ! Thou, of whom the easy strain Enchanteth, by its happy sway, Sometimes the margin of the Seine, Sometimes the fair and fertile plain, Where winds the Marne her lingering way ; Whether thy light and classic lay Lie at the feet of fair Climeiie ; Or if, La Fare," thou rather choose The mood of the theatric muse. And raise again, the stage to tread, Renowned Greeks and Romans dead ; Attend ! — And thou, too, lend thine aid, Chaulieu ! ^ on whom, in raptured hour, Phoebus breathed energy and power ; Come both, and each a stanza place, The structure that we raise to grace ; To gild our heavy labours o'er, Your aid and influence we implore. The invocation was scarce fairly written out, when we found the theatric muse a little misplaced, as neither of the gentlemen invoked appeared to have written any- " Charles Augustus Marquis de la Fare, the well-known Epicurean poet, produced many graceful trifles penned in the style of his friend, the Abbe de Chaulieu. He was born in 1644, and died in 1 712. " William Amfrye, Abbe de Chaulieu, born in 1639, was noted for his light and graceful style of composition. He replied to the above allusion by some verses in which he remarked that he felt the less resentment at this little pin-prick, knowing as he did the sanguinary nature of the British Muse. Among Chaulieu's best-known works, which have usually been published in conjunction with those of the Marquis de la Fare, are an "Ode against Wit," " Death," / f ( I CouciT -m g%Aaro:\r. 9 He was not clothed in rags, or tattered, Like that same grim and grisly spectre. Who, ere Philippi's contest clattered The dauntless Brutus came to hector : Nor was he clad like ghost of La'ius, Who, when against his son he pled, Nor worse nor better wardrobe had, Than scanty mantle of Emaeus : Nor did his limbs a shroud encumber. Like that which vulgar sprites enfold, When, gliding from their ghostly hold, They haunt our couch, and scare our slumber. By all this we saw the ghost's intention was not to frighten us. He was dressed exactly as when you first procured us the pleasure of his acquaintance in London. He had the same bantering air, though slightly less mirthful, and even the same dress, which he had un- doubtedly preserved in view of making us this visit. Lest you doubt it, His ancient study ing-cap he wore, Well tanned, of good Morocco hide ; ^" The eternal double loop before, That lasted till its master died : Li fine, the self-same equipage, As when, with lovely Mazarin,^i ^^ One of Saint-EvreLn jniTs pjculiarities was, that instead of wearini^ a wisj, in acconlance with the universal practice of the time, he chose to wear his own grey hair, covered with the leathern cap described alcove. *^ Hortensia Mancini, niece of Cardinal Mazarin. .She subsequently became Duchess ^Mazarin. and later on one of the mistresses of Charles 11. During Charles's exile, proposals of marriage had been made on his behalf and refused by the cardinah After the Restoration, however, Mazarin wa:5 anxious that the match should take place, and offered a large dowry — 10 ETIS-TLS TO THE Still boasting of the name of Sage, He drowned, in floods of generous wine, The dulness and the frost of age, And daily paid the homage due, To charms that seemed for ever new. As he arrived un-announced, he placed himself between us without ceremony, but could not forbear smiling at the respect with which we withdrew our chairs, under pretence of not crowding him. I had always heard that it was necessary to question folks of the other world, in order to engage them in conversation ; but he soon shewed us the contrary ; for, casting his eyes on the paper which we had left on the table, — " I approve," said he, " of your plan, and I come to give you some advice for the execution ; but I cannot comprehend the choice you have made of those two gentlemen as assistants. I admit, that it is impossible to write more entertainingly than they do ; but do you not see that they only write by fits and starts, and that the subjects they treat of are as extraordinary as the whims that induce them to write. " Love-lorn and gouty, one soft swain Rebels, amid his rhymes profane. Against specific water-gruel ; Or chirrups, in his ill-timed lay, Madame de Rrotteville says five millions of livres (^200,000) — but it was now Charles's turn to decline the cardinal's overtures. The duchess came to reside in England in 1675, on which occasion Saint-Evremond thus addressed the ladies of the Court : — " Fair beauties of Whitehall, give way, Hortensia does her charms display ; She comes, she comes ! Resign your sway, She must reign and you obey ! " For further particulars of the Duchess Mazarin, see the sequel to the present work. Coui\T 'ue g-\.A^{o.xT. n The joys of freedom and tokay, When Celimena's false or cruel : The other, in his lively strain, Fresh from the font of Hippocrene, Rich in the charms of sound and sense, Throws all his eloquence away, And vaunts, the live-long lingering day, The languid bliss of indolence. " So give up all thoughts of them, if you please ; for although you have invoked them, they won't come any the sooner to your succour. Arrange, as well as you can, the materials you were about to collect for others, and never mind the order of time or events : I would advise you, on the contrary, to choose the latier years of your hero for your principal subject : his earlier adventures are too remote to be interesting at the present day. Make some short and light observations on the re- solution he has formed of never dying, and upon the power he seems to possess of carrying it into execution.'" " That art by which his life he has warded, And death so often has retarded, 'Tis strange to me, The world's envy Has ne'er with jaundiced eye regarded : But 'mid all anecdotes he tells Of warriors, statesmen, and of belles, '■- Count de Gramont, in his old age, recovered, contrary to the expect- ation of his physicians and of all the world, from one or two dangerous illnesses, which led him often to say, in his lively manner, that he had formed a resolution never to die. This declaration is the subject of much raillery through the whole Epistle. 12 EiH^-TLE TO -THE With whom he fought, intrigued, and slept. That rare and precious mystery, His art of immortahty. Is the sole secret he has kept. " Do not embarrass your brains in seeking ornaments, or turns of eloquence to paint his character : That would resemble a panegyric ; and a faithful portrait will be his best praise. Take care you do not attempt to repeat his stories, or boiis viois : The subject is too great for you.i"' Merely try, in relating his adventures, to gloss over his failings, and give relief to his merits. '^ Biissy Rabutin assures us, that much of the merit of Gramorit's bans mots consisted in his peculiar mode of uttering them, although his repu- tation as a wit was universally established. Few of those which have been preserved are susceptible of translation ; but the following may be taken as a specimen : One d.ay when Charles II. dined in state, he bade Gramont note that he was served upon the linee — a mark of respect not common at other Courts. " I thank your majesty for the explanation," answered Gramont ; " I thought they were begging pardon for giving you so bad a dinner." Louis XIV,, playing at tric-trac, disputed a throw with his opponent ; the bystanders were appealed to, but remained silent. "Ah ! here comes Gramont," said the king, seeing the count approach, "he will judge the matter ; Gramont, come and decide lietween us," he added. " Vou have lost, sire," exclaimed the count. "But you have not heard the case," said Louis. "Ah, sire," replied the count, "if your majesty had but a shadow of right, would these gentlemen have failed to decide at once in your favour?" On one occasion a marquis whose title was of recent date cavalierly addressed Gramont, then past his prime, with a "Good-day, old count," whereupon the latter quietly rejoined, "Good day, young marquis." A courtier named Langlee, whose manners were offensively familiar, had the privilege of playing at the king's card-table, and Louis XIV. appears to have tolerated his too intimate behaviour. Playing one day at brdan with the Count de Gramont, Langlee naturally enough addressed the sul)ject in the same easy style as he usually adopted with the sovereign. Gramont, however, promptly rebuked him : "Monsieur de Langlee," said he, " pray reserve your familiarities until next you play at cards with the king." Gramont's familiarity with the myal personages who patronized him was invariably tempered by a certain show of respect. Wlien some courtiers were commending an old officer, who had ably defended a fortress confided to his charge, in Louis XIV. 's presence, Gramont, who was as old as the officer in question, remarked to tlie king, who was also about the same age : COU:\T =DS g%,A.:irO:\T. 13 " 'Twas thus, by easy route of yore, My hero to the skies I bore.^^ For your part, sketch how beauties tender, Did to his vows in crowds surrender : Shew him forth-following the banners Of one who matched the goddess-born ■.^'' Shew how in peace his active manners Held dull repose in hate and scorn : Shew how at Court he made a figure. Taught lessons to the best intriguer. " Only we cadets, sire, arc worth anything," " True," answered the king, " l:)Ut at our age we have not much time l^efore us to enjoy our glory." "Sire," responded Gramont, "kings have no age: their great achieve- ments are counted, not their years." When the Prince de Conti married Mademoiselle de Blois, Louis XIV. 's illegitimate daughter by Mademoiselle de la Valliire, " Sir," said Gramont to him, " I am exceedingly pleased at your marriage ; but take my advice, be very cautious in your behaviour towards your father-in-law ; do not wrangle or haggle about trifles with him ; live on good terms with the family and you will be extremely contented with this alliance. " Gramont's language on this occasion was quite in keeping with that serio-comic style \\-hich according to all accounts was the distinguishing characteristic of his conversation. '•* Saint- Evremond, whose attachment to Gramont amounted to en- thusiasm, composed the following epitaph upon him, long, however, before the count's death. In it he touches upon many of the topics which in the Epistle he is supposed to recommend to Hamilton. " Here lies the Count de Gramont, Keeping his character's marked stranger ! plan. Old Evremond's eternal theme : As spouse, sire, gallant, and old Hewhoshared Conde'severy danger, man. May envy from the bravest claim. But went he to confession duly? Wouldst know his art in courtly At matins, mass, and vespers life? steady? It matched his courage in the strife. Fervent in prayer? — to tell you truly, Wouldst ask his merit with the He left these cares to his good lady. fair ? — We may once more see a Turenne ; Who ever lived his equal there ? Conde himself may have a double ; His wit to scandal never stooping But to make Gramont o'er again. His mirth ne'er to buffoon'ry droop- \Vould cost Dame Nature too mg: '^ Achilles. much trouble." 14 STISTLS ro 'THE Till, without fawning, like his neighbours, His prompt address foiled all their labours. Canvas and colours change once more, And paint him forth in various light : The scourge of coxcomb and of bore ; Live record of lampoons in score. And chronicle of love and fight ; Redoubted for his plots so rare, By every happy swain and fair ; Driver of rivals to despair ; Sworn enemy to all long speeches ; Lively and brilliant, frank and free ; Author of many a repartee : Remember, over all, that he Was most reno^^'ncd for storming breaches. I-'orget not the white charger's prance. On which a daring boast sustaining, He came before a prince of France, Victorious in Alsace campaigning.^'' Tell too by what enchanting art. Or of the head, or of the heart. If skill or courage gained his aim ; When to Saint Albans' sad disgrace. Despite his colleague's grave grimace, And a fair nymph's seducing face, He carried off gay Buckingham.'" '* Gramont had promised the Dauphin, then commanding the army in Alsace, that he would join him before the end of the campaign, mounted on a white horse. '' Gramont is supposed to have had no small share in determining the Duke of Buckingham, then Charles II. 's favourite minister, to break the Cou.xf Tie g\^L-iro.xT. 15 Speak all these feats, and simply speak, — - To soar too high were forward freak, — To keep Parnassus' skirts discreetest ; For 'tis not on the very peak. That middling voices sound the sweetest. Each tale in easy language dress. With natural expression closing ; Let every rhyme fall in express ; Avoid poetical excess. And shun low miserable prosing : Doat not on modish style, I pray, Nor yet condemn it with rude passion ; There is a place near the Marais.^^ Where mimicry of antique lay Seems to be creeping into fashion. This new and much-admired way, Of using gothic words and spelling, Costs but the price of Rabelais, Or Ronsard's sonnets, to excel in. With half a dozen 'ekes ' and ' ayes,' Or some such antiquated phrase, At small expense you'll lightly hit On this new strain of ancient wit." triple alliance ; for which purpose he went to France with the count, in spite of all that Saint Albans, Halifax, and Arlington of the "grave grimace," and even the duke's mistress, the notorious Countess of Shrews- bury, with her " seducing face," could do to prevent him. "* The allusion is apparently to the famous Hotel de Rambouillet, where the prcrieuses, who assumed to direct public taste in literary matters, were wont to assemble under the presidency of the Marchioness de Rambouillet. Voiture was the great authority there, although its chief ornament was Mademoiselle de Scudery, famous for her romances, and styled indifferently " the tenth muse," or the " Sappho of the seventeenth century." Bearing in mind, however, that Hamilton speaks of a place near the Marais, it is possible that he alludes to Mademoiselle de Scudery'sown residence, which was in the Rue de Beauce, the Hotel de Rambouillet in the Rue St. Thomas 1 6 8TJSTLS TO THE We assured the spirit we would try to profit by this last advice, but that his caution against falling into the languor of a prosy narration appeared to us more difficult to follow. " Once for all," said he, " do your best ; folks that write for the Count de Gramont have a right to reckon on some indulgence. At any rate, you are only known through him, and, apparently, what you are about will not increase public curiosity on your own account. I must end my visit," he continued, " and by the parting wishes I am about to express acquaint my hero that I still interest myself in him. " Still may his wit's unceasing charms Blaze forth, his numerous days adorning ; May he renounce the din of arms, And sleep some longer of a morning : Still be it upon false alarms, That chaplains come to lecture o'er him ; '" du Louvre being rather more distant. As is well known all the influence of the Voiture-Scudery school was entirely destroyed liy Moliere's famous comedy A^s Pihieiises Ridicules, ^'■' Gramont having fallen seriously ill, at the age of seventy-five, the king, who knew his free sentiments in religious matters, sent Dangeau to tell him that it was time he thought of his salvation. The count, on learning the latter's errand, turned to his wife, and remarked, " (_*ountess, if you don't look to it, Dangeau will cheat you of my conversion." Gramont recovered from this illness and believed more firndy than ever in his immortality. At the same time he liecame devout, which having been notified to Saint- Evrcmond, by Ninon de I'Knclos, the count's Epicurean frirnd thus replied to the antiquated beauty : — " I am not a little pleased to hear that the Count de Gramont has recovered his fornrer health and acquired a new devotion. Hitherto I have been contented with being a good plain honest man, but I must do something more, and I only wait for your example to become godly, ^'ou live in a country where people enjoy wonderful advantages for saving their souls Formerly it was enough to be wicked, now one must be an utter scoundrel to be damned in France. Those who have not sufficient regard for another life arc led to salvation by the consideration and duties of the present one. But this is enough on a subject in which the conversion of the Count de Gramont has engaged me : I believe his conversion to be sincere and honest. It well becomes a man who is no longer young to forget that he once was so." Still prematurely, as before, That all the doctors give him o'er, And king and Court are weeping for him ; May such repeated feats convince The king he lives but to attend him ; And may he, like a grateful prince, Avail him of the hint they lend him ; — Live long as Gramont's age, and longer. Then learn his art still to grow younger." Here ceased the ghostly Norman sage, A clerk whom we as well as you rate ; The choicest spirit of his age, And heretofore your only curate : Though not a wit, you see, his spectre Doth, like a buried parson's, lecture. Then off he glided to the band Of feal friends that hope to greet you. But long may on the margin stand, Of sable Styx, before they meet you. No need upon that theme to dwell, Since none but you the cause can tell ; Yet, if, when some half century more, In health and glee, has glided o'er, You find you, maugre all your strength, Stretched out in woeful state at length, And forced to Erebus to troop. There shall you find the joyous group, Carousing on the Stygian border ! Waiting, with hollao and with whoop, To dub you brother of their order : iS ETISTLS TO THE There shall you find Dan Benserade,^" Doughty Chapelle-i and Sarrazin,^- Voiture ^ and Chapelain,-* gallants fine, '" Isaac de Benserade, born in Normandy in 1612. Under the protection of Richelieu and the Duke de Breze he was received with favour at Court, and acquired considerable celebrity by his songs, roundelays, sonnets and ballets. Cardinal iNIazarin collaborated with him in the composition of the famous ballet of " Cassandra," in which Louis XIV., then thirteen years of age, danced disguised as a lady. Benserade also produced various dramatic works, but these were of Uttle value. He was elected a member of the French Academy in 1674, and died in i5gi, his death being caused by the unskilfulness of a surgeon who while performing an operation on him severed an artery and failed to check the flow of blood. "' Claud Emmanuel Lhuillier, called Chapelle, born about 1621, is espe- cially celebrated for his versified Voyage en Provence et en Languedoc, which he composed in conjunction with Bachaumont. Chapelle, who was noted for his wit, was the friend of Racine, and is'said to have given him some excellent literary advice. For a brief period also he assisted Moliere, with wdrom he had been educated, in the composition of some of his comedies. He had inherited a considerable fortune from his parents and was received in society, both the Prince de Conde and the Duke de Brissac treating him with marked favour. He was, however, greatly addicted to the bottle, and it was related that one day when Boileau began to reproach him for his intemperate hal)its he enticed his would-be mentor into a tavern, and put a stop to his sermon by making him drunk. Chapelle died in 1686. "^- John Francis Sarrazin, or Sarasin, a native of Normandy, was born in 1604, and attained to some little eminence as a poet. He was a master of ingenious banter, and in this respect often proved the successful rival of Voiture. In 1648 he became secretary to the Prince de Conti, and by reason of his wit and drollery acquired considerable ascendancy over him. He is said to have brought about the prince's marriage with Mazarin's niece, Anna Maria Martinozzi, an achievement which, according to some biographers, was attended wdth most unfortunate consequences, for the prince, considering himself duped with regard to the financial advantages of the match, proceeded to chastise Sarrazin wdlh a pair of tongs, and hit him on the temple, thereby occasioning his death, in 1654. ^^ Vincent Vciture, born at Amiens in 1598, entered at an early age the service of Gaston, Duke of Orleans, by whom he was entrusted with various diplomatic missions. He subsequently acquired the conlidenceof Richelieu and Anne of Austria, and was appointed viaitre cCIiStel to the king and afterwards the "interpreter of the ambassadors. " His emoluments even- tually yielded him an income of 18,000 livres a year, the greater part of which he lost at play, gaming being his most conspicuous vice. He was also some- what addicted to gallantry, although his friend the Marquis de Rambouillet asserted that he " was the image of a dreamy sheep." Perhaps it was with this description in mind, and in remembrance of the scriptural prophecy, that the lion would lie down with the lamb, that Mademoiselle Paulet, the '* See the next page. And he who ballad never made, Nor rhymed without a flask of wine.-' Adieu, Sir Count, the world around Who roamed in quest of love and battle, Of whose high merits Fame did tattle, As sturdy tilter, knight renowned. Before the warfare of the Fronde. Should you again review Gironde, Travelling in coach, by journeys slow, You'll right hand mark a sweet chateau. Which has few ornaments to shew, But deep, clear streams, that moat the spot, 'Tis there we dwell, - forget us not ! so-called " lioness " of the precieitsc coterie, bestowed her favours ujiion the sheep-faced poet. At fifty years of age Voiture, who was then the high priest of the Hotel de Rambouillet, where the precioso school had its headquarters, fell in love with the youngest daughter of Madame de Rambouillet, and challenged a rival named Chavaroche, with whom he fought at night-time and by torch-light in the garden of the hotel. In 1634 Voiture was elected a member of the French Academy, and during the later years of his life he enjoyed a high literary reputation. Although he was tndowed with considerable wit, his poems at the present day read both cold and pretentious. He died in 1648. -■' John Chapelain, born in Paris in 1595, became a member of the French Academy in 1629. His poem. La Fucelle, to the composition of which he devoted twenty years, was at first highly praised, but Uoileau criticized it so severely that it soon fell into deserved contempt. Chapelain was, however, pensioned by Richelieu, and was employed by Colbert to prepare a list of savants and men of letters worthy of the protection of Louis XIV. He acquitted himself of this duty with remarkable im- partiality, and even included in the list the names of writers who had assailed him with the utmost bitterness. He, moreover, protected Racine, and procured a pension for him. Chapelain was of an extremely parsi- monious disposition, and it is asserted that he met with his death by pre- ferring to ford a stream rather than pay two liards, or a halfpenny, to cross it on a plank. A chill resulted, and, jjeing then seventy-nine years of age, he never recovered. He died in 1674, possessed of a fortune of fifty thousand crowns. The only work of his that is now read, is the trans- lation of Guzman of Alfarache. "^ Francis Villon appears to be the Bacchanalian poet here referred to. He was born in 1430, and is believed to have died about 1484. In 1461 the tribunal of the (;hatelet of Paris condemned him to be hanged for his rascalities, but 20 EflS-TLS TO THS COU.\T TiS G%.i-n[0:\T. Think of us then, pray, sir, if, by chance, you should take a fancy to revisit your fair mansion of Semeac.^^ In the meanwhile, permit us to finish this long letter ; we have endeavoured in vain to make something of it, by varying our language and style — but you see how our best efforts fall below our subject. To succeed, it would be necessary that he whom our fictions conjured up to our assistance were actually among the living. But, No more shall Evremond incite us. That chronicler whom none surpasses. Whether his grave or gay delight us ; That favourite of divine Parnassus Can find no ford in dark Cocytus : From that sad river's fatal bourne, Alone De Gramont can return.^'' the sentence was commuted by the parHament, and Villon withdrew to Saint Maixent and thence to England. He no doubt returned to Saint Maixent in his old age as asserted by Rabelais in his Pantagmel, wherein one of Villon's supposed adventures is narrated {see book iv. ch. xiii. ). '^ See ante, p. xxxii. -" Boileau and Chaulieu (see notes 5 and 8) were not the only writers with whom Hamilton corresponded on the subject of the foregoing Epistle. He exchanged some complimentary verses with the Marquis de Dangeau, and John de La Chapelle addressed him a long missive in which he approved of the idea of Gramont's life being written. He was, however, perplexed as regards which of the most celebrated ancients the count might fittingly be comp.ired to. Msecenas, he wrote, had first occurred to him, and the comparison was to his mind a happy one, since it enabled him to point out a certain similitude between Horace and Hamilton. Petronius next was mentioned, as offering some resemblance to the count : — a man of pleasure, giving up the day to sleep and the night to entertainment ; but then, added La Chapelle, it would be suggested that Gramont, with his perpetually active mind, slept neither by night nor day, and, moreover, whereas Petronius died, the count— then about eighty-five years of age — seemed determined never to die at all. Hamilton, in acknowledging La Chapelle's letter, stated that Gramont felt greatly flattered at being compared to Msecenas, the more especially as Maecenas had been the minister of Augustus Caesar, and he, the count, loved and reverenced all ministers. The comparison with Petronius was not so much to Gramont's liking, for he considered this poet to have been a worthless fellow, and not a true man of pleasure, since he lacked two essential requisites for amuse- ment — namely, cards and dire. MEMOIRS OF THE COUJif 7)6 g%^MO:HT'. j[i8:Mon{s OF TH6 cou:^(r T>8 g^yiMO^KT. INTRODUCTION. S those who read only for amusement are, in my opinion, more reasonable than those who open a book merely to pick out faults in it, I declare that I only write for the diversion of the former, without being in the least concerned about the severe criticisms of the latter. I farther declare, that the order of time and disposition of the facts, which give more trouble to the writer than pleasure to the reader, shall not much embarrass me in these memoirs. It being my design to convey a correct idea of my hero, those circumstances which most tend to illustrate and distinguish his character, shall find a place in these fragments just as they present themselves to my imagination, without paying attention to their arrangement. For, after all, what does it signify wliere the portrait is begun, provided the assemblage of the parts form a whole which per- 24 '.li£^lWI%S OF THE fectly expresses the original ? The celebrated Plutarch, who treats his heroes as he does his readers, commences the life of the one just as he thinks fit, and diverts the attention of the other with digressions into antiquity, or agreeable passages of erudition, which frequently have no reference to the subject. For instance, he tells us, that Demetrius Poliorcetes was far from being so tall as his father, Antigonus ; and afterwards, that his reputed father, Antigonus, was only his uncle ; but this is not until he has begun his life with a short account of his death, his various exploits, his good and bad qualities ; and at last, out of compassion for his failings, he brings forward a comparison between him and the unfortunate Mark Antony. In the life of Numa Pompilius, he begins by a disser- tation upon his preceptor Pythagoras ; and, as if he thought the reader would be anxious to know whether the latter was the ancient philosopher, or one of the same name, who, after being victorious at the Olympic games, went full speed into Italy to teach Numa philosophy, and instruct him in the arts of government, he gives himself much trouble to explain this difficulty, and, after all, leaves it undetermined. What I have said upon this subject is not meant to reflect upon this historian, to whom, of all the ancients we are most indebted ; it is only intended to authorise the manner in which I have treated a life far more extra- ordinary than any of those he has transmitted to us. It is a question of describing a man, whose inimitable character effaces faults which I shall not pretend to disguise ; a man, distinguished by a mixture of virtues Cou\T lis g%.Ac^[o:>(T. 25 and vices linked together so closely, as to appear neces- sarily dependent on one another — united so perfectly that the like is seldom seen, and yet contrasting in a striking manner. It is this indefinable brilliancy, which, in war, love, gaming, and the various stages of a long life, has rendered Count de Gramont the admiration of his age. It is this that has made him the delight of every country where he hasdisplayed his graces and his inconstancy; thedelightof every spot where his vivacious wit has scattered felicitous sayings, such as universal approval transmits to posterity; of all the places enriched by his magnificent generosity, and, indeed, of those where he preserved his judgment free and unembarrassed in the most trying situations ; his facetiousness of temper in the most imminent dan- gers of war giving proof of an amount of firmness such as few only possess. I shall not attempt to draw his portrait : his person has been described both by Bussy^ and by Saint-Evremond, authors more entertaining than faithful. The former has represented the Chevalier de Gramont as artful, fickle, and even somewhat treacherous ' Gramonrs chief chaiactcristics are thus described by Bussy-Rabutin : — " The ChevaHer had laughing eyes, a well-formed nose, a handsome mouth and a little dimple in the chin, that had an agreeable effect. He had a sly expression in the face which I cannot describe, and his figure would not have been amiss had he not stooped. His wit was gallant and delicate, but it was his look and tone of voice which often gave some value to what he said, for in the mouth of another it became a mere nothing. In proof of this he wrote as badly as is possible, anil yet he wrote as he spoke. It is superfluous to say that a rival is a source of worr)', however this was so much the case with the Chevalier that it was better for a poor woman to have four others to deal with than him alone. He was so active as never to be caught napping, and he was liberal to profusion. For this reason his mistresses and his rivals could have no secrets which he did not learn. Withal he was the best fellow in the world." — Ilistoire Ainouraisc dcs Ganles, Book i. 26 c1/gilW/-7^^' OF -THE in his amours, and indefatigable and cruel in his jealousies. Saint-Evremond has used other colours to express the genius and describe the general manners of the Count ;° both, however, in their different pictures, have done greater honour to themselves than justice to their hero. It is, therefore, to the Count we must listen, in the agreeable relation of the sieges and battles wherein he distinguished himself under another hero ; and it is he who must be believed in regard to the less glorious passages of his life. The sincerity with which he relates his address, vivacity, frauds, and the various stratagems - Saint-Evremond penned half a score of poems laudatory of his friend. One of the best known of these, addressed to the Chevalier on his love for Miss Hamilton, is here appended, in an English version : — There is hut one knight, in the world, for me ; Let the Round Table's company, And all the famous men of tour- nays, Exploits in arms and errant journeys, Forgive me if I leave them in the cold ; A new success is waiting to be told. 'Tis he whom, at the Court, we saw Gaily defying Cupid's law, The same who was, at Brussels, dear To all the ladies— even as here — And who, with money from their husbands won, Another course of Paris is to run, Content to roam the world no more In search of gambling, love, or war. When all goes well, a ruffler he. Yet ever courteous to necessity. No claim upon his bounty he forgets, Though not too prompt to pay his debts ; Who has not ever changed, nor will, And whom, alone of all men, people still Will find enduring age's frosty time As gaily as he passed his prime. Rare wonder of our modern days ! Were it not your love so long that stays. Were it not the truthful tenderness You ever show to your princess. Were it not those sweet desires that wake The truest sighs a man can make, So that, for her, you cease to be The prince of infidelity. You would outrival one and all — ■ Perfect, and dear original I A thousand great men on the world The thunderbolts of war have hurled ; But, to your poet's thinking, none Chevalier-Gramont-like but one ; And never life — he must confess — \Vas more admired, or copied less. S^ •*»»" »* ■* «''*' ?-5 ,..,/ ./r f / yrf J // <■ ) n Cou\T -De (j-KjA^uoixy. 27 he practised either in love or gaming,^ expresses his true character. It is he, I say, who must be listened to in this narrative, since I only hold the pen, while he dictates to me the most remarkable and secret passages of his life. ^ Saint-Evremond represents Gramont as a man less fortunate in love than at play ; not seeking for any other pleasure in the conquest of a woman beyond that of depriving another of her ; unable to persuade any woman of his passion, because he invariably spoke to her at all times in jest ; cruelly revenging himself on such as refused to listen to him, corrupt- ing the servants of those whom they favoured, counterfeiting their hand- writing, intercepting their letters, disconcerting their assignations — in a word, disturbing their amours by every means which a rival, i^rodigal, indefatigable, and full of artifice, can be imagined to employ. ryT~^'~?"y~'ry~y~>'Q *_?: ft-;fcitjKj?-jii-.'!s_JutJ.OLj!fcji^^ CHAPTER 1. J'he Chevalier de Graiiwnt at ilie siege of Triiio — His intimacy witli Count Matta — Their luxurious cniertainvients and extravagance — End of their resources— Deliberation betiveen the Chevalier and Matta iifon this emergency. N the days I am about to speak of affairs were not managed in France as at present : Louis XIII.' was still upon the throne, but the Cardinal de Richelieu' governed the kingdom ; great men com- manded little armies, and these little armies did great things : the fortune of the great personages of the Court ' Son and successor of Henry IV. He began to reign May 14, 1610, and died May 14, 1643. - Armand John du I'lessis, Cardinal and Did^e de Richelieu, was born in Paris in 15S5. In 1622 he was created a cardinal, and two years later he Ijecame all-powerful under the nominal control of Louis XIH., who had previously vested the royal authority in his mother. Marshal Concini, and the Duke de Luynes. The rigour which Richelieu displayed in dealing with the I'rotestants and the factious members of the nobility is well known. Henry H. of Montmorency, \\ho was executed by his orders, at Toulouse in 1632, for participating in the revolt of (laston of Orleans, was Gramont's uncle on his mother's side, (iramont himself when he took holy orders, early in life, was ]>resented by the cardinal with an abbey. Some modern historians have censured the severity which Richelieu showetl towards the royal favourite Cinq-Mars and his friend De Thou, but according to the most reliable contemporary authorities they merited their fate. One of the cardinal's favourite sayings was : — " Impunity can scarcely bring a traitor liack to the right path, but his punishment will render a thousand well- Couoi'T Tis g%M^Mo.^. 29 depended solely upon the favour of the minister, and one's position was only stable provided one was devoted to him. Vast designs were then laying in the heart of neighbouring states the foundation of that formidable greatness to which France has now risen : the police was somewhat neglected ; the highways were impassable by day, and the streets by night ; but robberies were committed elsewhere with still greater impunity. Young men, on their first entrance into the world, took what course they thought proper : whoever would, was a chevalier, and whoever could, an abbe, — I mean a bene- ficed abbe : dress made no distinction between them ; and, I believe, the Chevalier de Gramont was both the one and the other at the siege of Trino.' This was his first campaign, and here he displayed those fortunate qualities which so favourably prepossess, and endowed with which a man requires neither friends nor recommendations to procure a favourable reception in any company. The siege was already formed when he arrived, which saved him some needless risks ; for a conducted." [Mercure hhtorique ct politique, July, 1688, p. '].) In his Testammtiim Politictiiii ht Ihw?, defined his general policy; "The object of my ministry has been to re-estabUsh the natural limits of Gaul ; to identify Gaul with France, and to constitute new Gaul wherever old Gaul existed." Louis XIII. 's long and complete trust in Richelieu was due to the fact that the cardinal never wrote or said a word calculated to offend or diminish the king's dignity. On the contrary he invariably endeavoured to exalt it. Richelieu died in 1642. It is stated that when he was on his death-bed the priest asked him if he forgave his enemies, whereupon he replied that he had no enemies save those of the state. This anecdote recalls the rejoinder of the old Catholic general who had played a prominent part in the religious wars of his time, and who on being admonished on his death- bed to forgive his enemies, e.xclaimed : " Enemies ! I have none. I killed them all long ago." ■'' Trino, a little town of five or six thousand inhabitants, near Novara, was taken May 4, 1639. 30 ^irs^iroi%s OF -the volunteer cannot rest at ease, until he has stood the first fire : he went, therefore, to reconnoitre the generals, having no occasion to reconnoitre the fortress. Prince Thomas'' commanded the army ; and as the post of lieutenant-general was not then known,'' Du Plessis- Praslin and the famous Viscount de Turenne were his major-generals." Fortified places were treated with some respect, before a power which nothing can withstand had found means to destroy them by dreadful showers of bombs, and by destructive batteries of a hundred pieces of cannon. Prior to those furious storms which drive governors underground and reduce their garrisons to powder, repeated sallies bravely repulsed, and vigorous attacks nobly sustained, signalised both the art of the besiegers and the courage of the besieged ; consequently sieges were of reasonable duration, and young men had an opportunity of gaining some knowledge. Many brave actions were performed on either side during the siege of Trino ; fatigue was endured, and losses were sustained ; but fatigue was no longer considered, hard- ^ Thomas of Savoy, uncle of the reigning duke. He bore the title of Prince of Carignano, and was Clrand Master of the king's household. In 1624 he married Mary de Bourbon-Soissons ; died, while besieging Cremona at the head of a French army, in 1656. » The author has here made a mistake ; for in the year 1638, while the Duke of \\'eimar was besieging Brisac, Cartlinal de Richelieu sent him two reinforcements, under the conduct of Turenne and the Coimt de Guebriant, as Lieutenant-Generals, a rank till that time not known in France. — JMeiiioires de Tiire}inc. ^ Duplessis-Praslin subsequently became Marshal of France and Duke de Choiseul. He retired from the service in 1672, on account of his advanced age, and on this occasion said to the king that he envied his children, as they still had the honour of serving his majesty. As for himself, he trusted he would soon die, since he was no longer good for anything. The king thereupon embraced him and replied : " Monsieur le Marechal, others only toil to win something approaching the reputation which you have acquired ; it is pleasant to rest after so many victories." COU\T T>S QX^iMOC^T. 31 ships were no more felt in the trenches, gravity was at an end with the generals, and the troops were no longer dispirited after the arrival of the Chevalier de Gramont. Pleasure was his pursuit, and he made it universal. Among the officers in the army, as in all other places, there were men of real merit, or pretenders to it. The latter endeavoured to imitate the Chevalier de Gramont in his most lustrous qualities, but without success ; the former admired his talents and courted his friendship. Of this number was Matta.'^ Honest and full of frank- '' Charles de Boiirdeille Count de Malta, Matha, or Martas, of «hom Hamilton has drawn so striking a picture, came of the same family to which Brantome and Montresor belonged. According to Tallemant des Reaux, Matta was one of the favoured lovers of Conde's sister, the beautiful Duchess de Longueville, who fascinated Turenne, the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, the Duke de Nemours, and other eminent men of the time. A contemporary lampoon, called The False Prudes, also mentions Gramont's friend as one of the lovers of Madame de Brancas, wife of Charles de Brancas, chevalier dVioimeur to Anne of Austria, and repre- sents him as sharing this lady's favours in company with the Duke d'Elbeuf, the Count de Chavigny, Jeannin, grandson of the judge of that name, Paget, intendant of finances, &c. The husband is described as being particularly suspicious of Matta and Jeannin, and as feeling greatly re- lieved when, upon his wife giving birth to a daughter, he finds that the child does not resemble either of them. In the " Demands of the Princes and Lords who have taken up arms with the Parliament and People of Paris " (see M. C. Moreau's Coiirriers de la Fronde, 1857, vol. ii., page 25S), there is a petition from Matta claiming the arrears of his pensions, amounting to seven thousand crowns, and we find him figuring as one of the actors in the ballet of The Tiuo Magicians, which was danced at the Court of Gaston of Orleans. Madame de Caylus, in her Souvenirs, commemorates the simple and natural humour of Matta, as rendering him the most delightful society in the worlrl, and Mademoiselle de Montpensier, in her JMenioires, alludes to his pleasantry in conversation, and passion for deep gaming. .Several of Matta's bans viots have been preserved. " ^Vhere can I have got this nose?" asked Madame d'Albret, observing a slight tendency to a flush in that feature. "At the sideboard, madam,'' answered Matta. When the same lady, in despair at her brother's death, refused all nourishment, Matta administered this blunt consolation : " If you are resolved, madam, never again to swallow food, you do well ; but if ever you mean to eat upon any future occasion, believe me, you may just as well begin now." The lady was so struck by the response that she at once sent to the butcher's for a leg of mutton. Matta's death occurred in 1674, three and 32 <:nrE^T[OI=J{S OF THE ness, he pleased one by his person, but still more by the turn of his wit, which was natural and simple, though he was endowed with a quick discernment and refined delicacy. The Chevalier de Gramont was not long in discovering his amiable qualities ; an acquaintance was soon formed, and friendship as soon united them. Matta insisted that the Chevalier should take up his quarters with him ; to which he only consented, on con- dition of contributing equally to the expense. As they were both liberal and magnificent, they gave at their common cost the best-designed and most luxurious enter- tainments that had ever yet been seen. Play was wonder- fully productive at first, and the Chevalier restored in a hundred different ways that which he obtained only by one. The generals, being entertained by turns, admired their magnificence, and were dissatisfied with their own officers for not keeping such good tables. The Chevalier had the talent of setting off the most indifferent things to advantage ; and his wit and judgment were so gene- rally acknowledged, that anyone who did not submit to his taste was discredited. To him Matta resigned the care of furnishing the table and doing its honours ; and, charmed with the general applause, persuaded himself that nothing could be grander than their way of living, and nothing easier than to continue it. But he soon perceived that the greatest prosperity is not the most lasting. Good living, scant economy, dishonest servants, and ill-luck, all uniting together to upset their establish- thirty years before that of his octogenarian friend Gramont. " Matta has died unshriven," wrote the pious Madame de Maintenon in a letter to her brother. Cou.\T i>e g-Ti-A^-Mo^r. 33 ment, a reform was, perforce, being slowly effected in their table, when the Chevalier's genius, fertile in resources, undertook to support his former credit by the following expedient. They had never yet conferred about the state of theii finances, although the steward had acquainted each separately, that he must either receive some money to defray the expenses, or give in his accounts. One day, when the Chevalier de Gramont came home sooner than usual, he found Matta fast asleep in an easy chair, and, being unwilling to disturb his rest, he began musing on his project. Matta awoke without his perceiving it ; and having, for a short time, observed the contemplation he seemed involved in, and the profound silence that reigned between two persons, who had never held their tongues for a moment when together before, he broke it by a sudden fit of laughter, which increased in proportion as the other stared at him. " A merry way of waking, and ludicrous enough," said the Chevalier ; "What is the matter, and whom are you laughing at .' " " Faith, Chevalier," said Matta, " I am laughing at a dream I had just now, which is so natural and diverting, that I must make you laugh at it also. I was dreaming that we had dismissed our viaitre dhotel, our cook, and our confectioner, having resolved, for the remainder of the campaign, to live upon others as others have lived upon us. That was my dream. Now tell me, Chevalier, on what were you musing ? " " Simpleton ! " said the Chevalier, shrugging his shoulders, " you are overcome at once, and thrown into I. D ,^4 c,'^re"irni%s of the qou.x^ tie g--i{. icTro.-yT. the utmost consternation and despair by some silly stories, which the maitre d'/iotcl has been telling you as well as me. What 1 after the figure we have made in the face of the nobility and the foreigners in the army, shall we give it up, and sneak off like fools and beggars, upon the first failure of our money ! Have you no sentiments of honour ? Where is the dignity of France ? " "And where is the money?" said Matta ; "for my men say, may the devil take them if there be ten crowns in the house ; and I believe that yours have not much more, for it is over a week since I have seen you pull out your purse, or count your money, an amusement you were very fond of in prosperity." " I own all that," said the Chevalier, " still I will force you to confess, that you are but a milksop in this matter. What would have become of you if you had been reduced to the situation I was in at Lyons, four days before I arrived here ? I will tell you the story." CHAPTER II. The Chevalier's story : — H't's school days and his presentation to Cardinal de Richelieic — He renounces the Church for the Army, and leaves home for the wars in Piedmont — He despoils his valet, Brinon, of the funds provided for the campaign, and is himself despoiled by a cunning horse- dealer at Lyons — The Chevalier's scheme to replenish his empty coffers at Trino — He wins fiftceti hundred pistoles from the Count de Cameron, and sixteen horses from M. de Turenne's officers — The fall of Trino. HIS," said Matta, "savours strongly of romance, except that it should have been your squire's part to tell me your adventures." " True, that is the rule," said the Chevalier ; " however, I may acquaint you with my first exploits without offending my modesty ; besides, my squire's style borders too much upon the burlesque for an heroic narrative. You must know, then, that upon my arrival at Lyons "■ " Is this a proper beginning .? " said Matta, " pray give us your history a little farther back, the most minute particulars of a life like yours are worthy of relation ; but above all, the manner in which you first 36 •'iTS^'^rOI%S OF THE paid your respects to Cardinal de Richelieu : I have often laughed at it. However, you may pass over the pretty tricks of your infancy, your genealogy, the name and quality of your ancestors, for that is a subject with which you must be utterly unacquainted." " Pooh, you joker ! " said the Chevalier, " you believe that all the world is as ignorant as yourself; — you think that I am a stranger to the Menaud d'Aures and the Corisandas. So, perhaps I don't know, that it only depended on my father for him to become the son of Henry IV.^ The king was most anxious to acknow- ledge him for his son, but the traitor would never consent to it. See what the Gramonts would have been now, but for his whim ! They would have had pre- cedence of the Caesars de Vendome.- You may laugh, if you like, yet it is as true as the gospel : but let us come to the point. " I was sent to the college of Pau,^ in view of being ' Some particulars of the count's grandmother, Diana d'Andoins, known as the beautiful Corisanda, have been already given in the introductory notice upon the Gramonts. She is known to have been the mistress of Henry IV., but it is very doubtful whether the intrigue began prior to her widowhood. In Les Amours du Gi'and Alcaiuhx (Paris, 1652), a work recounting Henry IV. 's love affairs, and wrongly attributed to .Made- moiselle de Guise, subsequently Princess de Conti, there occurs the following note: " Alcandre had given Corisanda a promise of marriage written and signed with his blood. This lady had waged war on Alcandre's behalf at her own expense, sending him levies of twenty-three or twenty- four thousand Gascons. However, she grew stout and fat and so red in the face that Alcandre became disgusted with her. Still, he offered to acknowledge himself the father of her son, but the son replied that he preferred to be a gentleman rather than a king's bastard.'' ^ Ca?sar, Duke de Vendome, was the eldest son of Henry IV., by the celebrated Gabrielle d'Estrees. He died in 1665. ^ Pau was the capital of Beam. It lies on an eminence on the Gave Bearnois, and was formerly the seat of a parliament, a bailiwick, and a chamber of accounts. In the chateau Henry IV. was born. Exclusive of an academy of sciences and liberal arts, there was a college of Jesuits, with five convents and two hospitals. Cou.xT T>e g%ueau inonde which the soldier had boasted of. " Brinon, who was quite out of temper at the many questions which the governor had asked him, returned more surly than an old ape ; and seeing that I was dressing my hair, in order to go downstairs, he asked : "'What are you about now, sir.'' Are you going to tramp about the town .? No, no : have we not had tramping enough ever since the morning } Eat a bit of supper, and go to bed betimes, that you may get on horseback by daybreak.' " ' Mr. Comptroller,' said I, ' I shall neither tramp about the town, nor eat alone, nor go to bed early. I intend to sup with the company below.' "'At the ordinary ! ' cried he, ' I beseech you, sir, do not think of it ! Devil take me, if there be not a dozen brawling fellows playing at cards and dice, who make noise enough to drown the loudest thunder ! ' " I had grown insolent since I had seized the money, and desirous to shake off the yoke of my governor. 42 ^'Me^-IOI%S OF THE " ' Do you know, Monsieur Brinon,' said I, ' that I don't like a blockliead to set up for a reasoner ? do you go to supper, if you please, but take care that I have post-horses ready before daybreak.' "The moment he mentioned cards and dice, I felt the money burn in my pocket. I was somewhat surprised, however, to find the room where the ordinary was served filled with odd-looking people. My host, after pre- senting me to the company, assured me, that there were but eighteen or twenty of these gentlemen who would have the honour to sup with me. I approached one of the tables where they were playing, and thought I should have died with laughing : I expected to have seen good company and deep play; but I only found two Germans playing at backgammon. Never did two countr)' loobies play like them ; but their figures beg- gared all description. The fellow near whom I stood was short, thick, and fat, and as round as a ball, with a ruff, and a pointed hat which was quite an ell in height. Any one, at a moderate distance, would have taken him for the dome of a church, with the steeple on the top of it. I inquired of the host, who he was. '"A merchant from Basle,' said he, 'who has come here to sell horses ; but from the method he pursues, I think he will not dispose of many ; for he does nothing but play.' " ' Docs he play deep ? ' said I. " ' Not now,' said he ; ' they are only playing for their reckoning, while supper is getting ready ; but when one can get the little merchant on the quiet he plays as deep as any one.' " ' Has he money ? ' I asked. " As for that,' repUed the treacherous Cerise, ' would to God you had won a thousand pistoles of him, and I had gone you halves; we should not be long without our money.' " I wanted no farther encouragement to meditate the ruin of the pointed hat. I went nearer to him, in order to take a closer survey ; never was there such a bungler, he made mistake after mistake ; God knows, I began to feel remorse at the idea of winning of such an ignoramus, who knew so little of the game. He lost his reckoning ; supper was served ; and I desired him to sit next to me. It was like a refectory table, and there were at least five-and-tvventy in the company, notwithstanding the landlord's promise. The most execrable repast that was ever begun being finished, all the throng dispersed, except the little Swiss, who still kept near me, and the landlord, who placed himself on the other side of me. They both smoked like dragons ; and the Swiss was con- tinually saying in bad French, ' I ask your pardon, sir, for my great freedom,' at the same time blowing such whiffs of tobacco in my face as almost suffocated me. Monsieur Cerise, on the other hand, requested permission to ask me, whether I had ever been in his country ; and seemed surprised I had so genteel an air, without having travelled in Switzerland. " The little chub whom I had to deal with was fully as inquisitive as the other. He asked me whether I came from the army in Piedmont ; and, having told him that I was going thither, he inquired, whether I had a mind to buy any horses, saying that he had about two hundred 44 cPlfez.lWJ=l{jS OF -THE to dispose of, and that he would sell them cheap. I was beginning to get smoked like a gammon of bacon ; and being quite wearied out, both with their tobacco and their questions, I asked my companion, if he would play just for a pistole at backgammon, while our men were supping. It was not without great ceremony that he consented, at the same time asking my pardon for his great freedom. " I won the game ; gave him his revenge, and won again. We then played double or quits, and I won that too, in the twinkling of an eye ; for he grew confused, and let himself be taken in so, that I began to bless my stars for my good fortune. Brinon came in towards the end of the third game, to put me to bed. He made a great sign of the cross, but paid no attention to the signs I made him to retire. I was forced to rise to give him that order in private. He began to reprimand me for disgracing myself by keeping company with such an ugly monster. It was in vain I told him, that he was a great merchant, with a deal of money, and that he played like a child. " ' He a merchant ! ' cried Brinon. ' Do not believe that, sir. May the devil take me, if he is not some sorcerer.' " ' Hold your tongue, old fool,' said I ; ' he is no more a sorcerer than you are, that is putting it plainly ; and, to prove it to you, I am resolved to win four or five hundred pistoles of him before I go to bed.' With these words I turned him out, forbidding him to return, or in any manner to disturb us. " The game being over, the little Swiss unbuttoned his r- I V .-i I. " '1 11 " = nt 1, i 3 I K V 1 > pockets, to pull out a new four-pistole piece, and present- ing it to me, he asked my pardon for his great freedom, and seemed as if he wished to retire. This was not what I wanted. I told him we had only played for amusement ; that I had no design upon his money ; and that, if he pleased, I would play him a single game for his four pistoles. He raised some objections ; but con- sented at last, and won back his money. I was piqued at this. I played another game ; fortune changed sides ; the dice ran for him, he made no more blunders. I lost the game ; another game, and double or quits ; we doubled the stakes, and played double or quits again. — I was vexed ; he, like a true gamester, took every bet I offered, and won all before him, without my getting m.ore than six points in eight or ten games. I asked him to play a single game for one hundred pistoles ; but as he saw that I did not stake cash, he told me it was late ; that he must go and look after his horses ; and went away, still asking my pardon for his great freedom. The cool manner of his refusal, and the politeness with which he bowed to me, provoked me to such a degree, that I felt inclined to kill him. I was so confounded at having lost my money so fast, even to the last pistole, that I did not immediately consider the miserable situation to which I was reduced. " I durst not go up to my chamber for fear of Brinon. By good luck, however, tired with waiting for me, he had gone to bed. This was some consolation, though but of short continuance. As soon as I had laid down, all the fatal consequences of my adventure presented themselves to my imagination. I could not sleep. I 46 ,-nTF^^^rOI%S OF -THE saw all the horrors of my misfortune, without being able to find any remedy ; in vain did I rack my brain ; it supplied me with no expedient. I feared nothing so much as daybreak : however, it came, and the cruel Brinon along with it. He was booted up to the middle, and cracking a cursed whip, which he held in his hand. " ' Up, Monsieur le Chevalier,' cried he, opening the curtains, ' the horses are at the door, and you are still asleep. We ought by this time to have ridden two stages; give me some money to pay the reckoning here.' "'Brinon,' said I, in a dejected tone, 'draw the curtains.' " ' What ! ' cried he, ' draw the curtains ! Do you intend then to make your campaign at Lyons .-' You seem to have taken a liking to the place. As for the fat merchant, you have stripped him, I suppose. No, no. Monsieur le Chevalier, this money will never do you any good. This poor fellow has a family perhaps ; and it is his children's bread that he has been playing with, and that you have won. Was it worth while sitting up all night to accomplish this .' What would my lady say, if she knew what a life you lead .^ ' "' Monsieur Brinon,' said I, 'pray draw the curtains.' But instead of obeying me, one would have thought that the devil had prompted him to use the most pointed and galling terms to a person under such misfortunes. " ' And how much have you won .' ' said he : ' five hundred pistoles .-" what will the poor man do .'' Recol- lect, Monsieur le Chevalier, what I have said ; this money will never thrive with you. You won, perhaps, but four hundred .' three .' two .■' Well, if it be but a hundred,' continued he, seeing that I shook my head at every sum he had named, 'there is no great mischief done; one hundred pistoles will not ruin him, provided you have won them fairly.' " ' Friend Brinon,' said I, fetching a deep sigh, ' draw the curtains ; I am unworthy to see daylight.' " Brinon was much affected at these melancholy words : but I thought he would have fainted, when I told him the whole adventure. He tore his hair, and made grievous lamentations, the burden of which ever was, ' What will my lady say .' ' And, having exhausted his unprofitable complaints, 'What will become of you now, Monsieur le Chevalier .' ' said he, ' what do you intend to do .' ' ' Nothing,' said I, ' for I am fit for nothing.' "After this, feeling somewhat easier since I had made him my confession, I thought over several projects, to none of which could I gain his approbation. I would have had him post after my equipage, to sell some of my clothes. I was for proposing to the horse-dealer, to buy some horses of him at a high price on credit, to sell them again cheap. Brinon laughed however at all these schemes, and after having had the cruelty to keep me upon the rack for a long time, he at last extricated me from my plight. Parents are always mean towards their poor children ; my mother intended to have given me five hundred pistoles, but she had kept back fifty, both for some little repairs at the abbey, and to pay for praying for me. Brinon had the charge of fifty more, with strict injunctions not to speak of them, unless upon some urgent necessity. And this, you see, soon happened. "Thus you have a brief account of my first adventure. 4S ^^[8.-iirOI\S OF TJfE Play has hitherto favoured me. After paying all my expenses I have seen myself with fifteen hundred louis '^ entirely gained since my arrival here. Fortune having now again become unfavourable, we must mend her. Our cash runs low ; we must, therefore, endeavour to recruit." " Nothing is more easy," said Matta ; " it is only necessary to find such another dupe as the horse-dealer at Lyons ; but now I think on it, has not the faithful Brinon some reserve for the last extremity .'' Faith, the time has now come, and we could not do better than to make use of it." " Your raillery would be very seasonable," said the Chevalier, " if you knew how to extricate us out of this difficulty. You must certainly have an overflow of wit, to be throwing it away upon every occasion as at present. Why the devil ! will you always be bantering, without considering what a serious situation we are reduced to ? Now listen, I shall go to-morrow to head- quarters, I shall dine with the Count de Cameran, and I will invite him to supper." " Where .? " said Matta. " Here," said the Chevalier. "You are mad, my poor friend," repHed Matta. " This is some such project as you formed at Lyons : you know we have neither money nor credit ; and, to re-establish our circumstances, you want to give a supper." " You stupid fellow!" said the Chevalier, "is it possible that, since we have been acquainted, you have acquired The louis at that time was worth about 19 shillings. Cou:\T '-DS g=i{. Ichiro. \T. 49 no imaginative powers ? The Count de Cameran plays at ' quinze,' and so do I ; we want money ; he has more than he knows what to do with ; I will bespeak a splendid supper, he shall pay for it. Send your niaitre d hotel to me, and trouble yourself no farther, except in some precautions, which it is necessary to take on an occasion like this." " Like what > " said Matta. " I will tell you," said the Chevalier, " for I find one must explain to you things that are as clear as noonday. You command the guards that are here, don't you .' As soon as night comes on you must order fifteen or twenty men, under the command of your serjeant, La Place, to take arms, and to lie flat on the ground between this place and headquarters." "What the devil!" cried Matta, "an ambuscade.? God forgive me, I believe you mean to rob the poor Savoyard. If that be your intention, I declare I will have nothing to do with it." " You simpleton ! " said the Chevalier, " the matter is this ; it is very likely that we shall win his money. The Piedmontese, though otherwise good fellows, are apt to be suspicious and distrustful. This one commands the horse. Now, you know you cannot hold your tongue, and are very likely to let slip some jest or other that may vex him. Should he take it into his head that he is being cheated, and resent it, who knows what the consequences might be, for he is com- monly attended by eight or ten troopers. So, however much he may resent his loss, it is proper to be in such a situation as not to dread him." I- F so :"irSc^fOI%S OF THE " Embrace me, my dear Chevalier," said Matta, holding his sides and laughing ; " embrace me, for you arc not to be matched. What a fool I was to think, when you talked to me of taking precautions, that nothing more was necessary than to prepare a table and cards, or perhaps to provide some false dice ! I should never have thought of supporting a man who plays at quinze by a detachment of foot : I must confess that you are already a great soldier." The next day everything happened as the Chevalier de Gramont had planned it ; the unfortunate Cameran fell into the snare. They supped in the most agreeable manner possible : Matta drank five or six bumpers to drown a few lingering scruples, which made him some- what uneasy. The Chevalier de Gramont shone as usual, and at the outset almost made his guest die with laughing, though he was soon afterwards to make him very serious. The good-natured Cameran ate like a man whose affections were divided between good cheer and a love of j lay ; that is to say, he hurried down his victuals, that he might not lose any of the precious time which he purposed devoting to cjuinze. Supper being done, Serjeant La Place posted his ambuscade, and the Chevalier de Gramont engaged his man. The perfidy of Cerise, and the sugarloaf hat, were still fresh in his remembrance, and enabled him to get the better of a few grains of remorse and some scruples which arose in his mind. Matta, unwilling to be a spectator of violated hospitality, sat down in an easy chair, to try and get to sleep, while the Chevalier was stripping the poor count of his money. Coaxr -DE Cj-T{,_-i^im:\:7. 51 They only staked three or four pistoles at first, as though for amusement ; but Cameran, having lost three or four times, staked higher, and the game became serious. He still went on losing, and then the play became stormy ; the cards flew about the room, and the exclamations awoke Matta. As his head was heavy with sleep, and hot with wine, he began to laugh at the passion of the Piedmontese, instead of consoling him. " Faith, my poor count," said he, " if I was in your place, I would play no more." " Why so ? " said the other. " I don't know," said he, " but my heart tells me that your ill-luck will continue." " I will try that," said Cameran, calling for fresh cards. " Do so," said Matta, and he fell asleep again, but not for long. All cards proved equally unfortunate for the count. As a rule he held only tens or court cards ; and when at last he had quinze, it availed him nothing, and lie still lost. Again he stormed. " Did not I tell you so ? " said Matta, starting out of his sleep ; "all your storming is in vain ; as long as you play you will lose. Believe me, the shortest follies are the best. Lea^'e off, for the devil take me, if it is possible for you to win." " Why ^ " said Cameran, who began to feel impatient. " Do you wish to know .' " said Matta ; " wh)', faith, it is because we are cheating you." The Chevalier de Gramont felt provoked at so ill- timed a jest, more especially as it carried with it some appearance of truth. " Monsieur Matta," said he, " do 52 •■ireciroi%.s of the you think it can be very agreeable for a man, who plays with such ill-luck as the count, to be pestered with your insipid jests ? For my part, I am so weary of the game, that I would desist immediately, if he was not so great a loser." Nothing is more dreaded by a losing gamester than such a threat ; and the count, in a softened tone, told the Chevalier, that Monsieur Matta might say what he pleased, if it did not offend him ; as to himself, it did not give him the smallest uneasiness. The Chevalier de Gramont gave the count far better treatment than he himself had experienced from the Swiss at Lyons ; for he played upon credit as long as his adversary pleased ; which Cameran took so kindly, that he lost fifteen hundred pistoles, and paid them the next morning. As for Matta, he was severely repri- manded for the intemperance of his tongue. The only reason he gave for his conduct was, that he had made it a point of conscience not to allow the poor Savoyard to be cheated, without informing him of it. " Besides," said he, " it would have given me great pleasure to have seen my infantry engaged with his horse, had he been inclined to mischief." This adventure having recruited their finances, fortune favoured them during the remainder of the campaign, and the Chevalier de Gramont, to prove that he had only seized upon the count's cash by way of reprisals, and to indemnify himself for the losses he had sustained at Lyons, began from this time to make the same use of his money that he has since been known to make of it upon all occasions. He found out the distressed, in order Cou.-yj Tie g%.AzMoy:T. 53 to relieve them ; the officers, who had lost their equipages in the war, or their money at play ; the soldiers, who had been disabled in the trenches ; in short, every one felt the influence of his benevolence : but his manner of conferring a favour exceeded even the favour itself. A man possessed of such amiable qualities must meet with success in all his undertakings. Having made himself known to the soldiers, he was adored by them. The generals were sure to find him wherever anything required to be done, and sought his company in moments of leisure. As soon as fortune declared for him, his first care was to make restitution, by desiring Cameran to go halves with him in all games where the odds were in his favour. An inexhaustible fund of vivacity and good-humour gave a certain air of novelty to whatever he either said or did. I know not on what occasion it was that Monsieur de Turenne, towards the end of the siege, commanded a separate body of men. However, the Chevalier de Gramont went to visit him at his new quarters, where he found fifteen or twenty officers. Monsieur de Turenne was naturally fond of merriment, and the Chevalier's presence was sure to inspire it. He was much pleased with this visit, and by way of acknowledgment, engaged him to play. The Chevalier de Gramont, in returning thanks, said, that he had learned from his tutor, that when a man went to see his friends it was neither prudent to leave his own money behind him, nor civil to carry off theirs. " Truly," said Monsieur de Turenne, " you will find neither deep play nor much money among us ; but, to 54 ••J][S<^I01'^'< OF THE prevent it being said that we suffered you to depart without playing, let us each stake a horse." The Chevalier de Gramont agreed. Fortune, who had followed him to a place where he had not thought lie should have any need of her, made him win fifteen or sixteen horses, by way of joke. However, seeing some countenances disconcerted at the loss, he said — " Gentlemen, I should be sorry to see you return on foot from your general's quarters ; it will be enough for me if you send me your horses to-morrow, except one, which I give for the cards." The vakt-dc-chauibre thought he was bantering. " I speak seriously," said the Chevalier ; " T give you a horse for the cards ; and w hat is more, take whichever you please, except my own." " Really now," said Monsieur de Tureune, " I am vastly pleased with the novelty of the thing ; for I don't believe that a horse was ever before given for the cards." Trino surrendered at last. The Baron de Batteville,^ '■' This appuars to have Ijeen the same person who was afterwards ambassador from Spain to the Court of Great Britain, where, in the summer of 1660, he offended the French Court by claiming precedence of their ambassador, Count d'Estrades, at the pubUc entry ot the Swedish ambassador into London. On this occasion the Court of France compelled that of Spain to acknowledge the French superiority. To commemorate this triumph, Louis XIV. caused a medal to be struck, representing the Spanish ambassador, Marquis de Fuente, making the declaration, "No concurrer con los ambassadores de Francia," with this inscription, "Jus prxcedendi assertum," and under it, "Hispanorum excusatio coram xxx iegatis principum, 1662." A curious account of the fray, drawn up by Evelyn the diarist, is contained in the Biographia Britaniiica. Lord (Clarendon, speaking of Baron de Batteville, says he was born in Burgundy, and bred a soldier, in wdiich profession he was an officer of note, and at that time was governor of St. Sebastian. He lived with less reservation and more jollity than was customary with Spanish ministers, and drew such of the Court to his table and conversation as were loud talkers, and confident enough in the king's presence. Continuation of Life, p. 84. Cou:xj i>s. g%s^i<:MOJij: 55 who had defended it vahantly and for a long time, obtained terms of capitulation worthy of such a resist- ance. I do not know whether the Chevalier de Gramont had any share in the capture of this fortress ; but I know very well, that since then, during a more glorious reign, and with armies ever victorious, his intrepidity and address ensured the capture of others, even under the eyes of his master, as we shall see farther on in these memoirs. - >V lb V .1 . V J , >J-^-v».v-v; ^ >» v>» >>■>> » '- ■!•* *> ■ ? ■ >■ • »» !»-»*> >q -yr r - ' -f^ ■ i ' i ' P - ^ ^- i'T - ^ 'i ^ " W - -s ' -j -t^-^ ^ .f-^^.W ^ - / -! ^ ■i.- [ ^ ' * , ^ - . - fc ^i^ f -f \ - { -L^- t^ ■{ ^L f . iV t - ^ ^ J - ^ ^ g;^ CHAPTER III. 77/« Chevalier and Alatta lay siege io the beauties of Turin — • Madame Royale and her Court — Alatta s over-forwardness in love-making and refugnance for Piedmont customs — The Chevalier, after losing his time with Mademoiselle de Saint- Germain, forms desii^ns ufon the Alarchioness de Senantes — Plot by which the husband and Mafia are placed under arrest whilst the Chevalier obtains the Marchioness' s i'avours. ILITARY glory supplies at most but one half of the radiance which distinguishes heroes. Love with its labour, its daring enterprises and glorious successes, must give the finishing stroke, and bring them into full relief. We have examples of this, not only in romances, but also in the genuine histories of the most famous warriors, and the most celebrated conquerors. The Chevalier de Gramont and Matta, who did not think much of these examples, were, however, of opinion, that it would be very agreeable to recruit themselves after the fatigues of the siege of Trino, by forming some other sieges, at the expense of the beauties and the husbands of Turin. As the campaign had finished c3rc^l/:JI\S OF THE COUi\T -T)£ (J%yl,^IO:XJ- 57 early, they thought they would have time to perform some exploits before the bad weather obliged them to repass the mountains. They sallied forth, therefore, much in the same way as Amadis de Gaul, or Don Galaor, after they had been dubbed knights, eager in pursuit of love, war, and en- chantments. They were quite equal to those two brothers, who on their side only knew how to cleave giants in twain, to break lances, and to carry fair damsels off behind them on horseback, without saying a single improper word to them ; whereas our heroes were adepts at cards and dice, of which the others were totally ignorant. They went to Turin, met with an agreeable reception, and were greatly distinguished at Court. Could it have been otherwise } They were young and handsome ; they had wit at command, and spent their money liberally. In what country does not a man succeed when he possesses such advantages .'' As Turin was at that time the seat of gallantry and love, two strangers of this description, who were always lively, could not fail to please the ladies of the Court. Although the men of Turin were extremely handsome, they were not possessed of the art of pleasing. They treated their wives with respect, and strangers with consideration. Their wives, still more handsome, showed quite as much consideration for strangers, and very little for their husbands. Madame Royale,i a worthy daughter of Henry IV., ' Christina, second daughter of Henry IV., married to Victor Amadeus, Prince of Piedmont, afterwards Duke of Savoy. Her father-in-law, the 5.S ■ife.^iroiiis OF the rendered her little Court the most agreeable in the world. She had inherited such of her father's virtues as compose the proper ornament of her sex ; and with regard to what is termed the weakness of great minds, her highness had in no wise degenerated. The Count de Tanes was her prime minister. It was not difficult to conduct affairs of state during his administration. No complaints were made against him ; and the princess, satisfied with his conduct herself, was, above all, glad to have her choice approved by her whole Court, where people lived almost according to the man- ners and customs of ancient chivalry. The ladies had each a professed lover, for fashion's sake, besides volunteers, whose numbers were unlimited. The declared admirers wore their mistresses' liveries, their arms, and sometimes even took their names. Their office was, never to quit them in public, and never to approach them in private ; to be their squires upon all occasions, and, in jousts and tournaments, to adorn their lances, housings, and coats, with the cyphers and the colours of their dulcineas. Matta was far from being averse to gallantry ; but hunchback Duke of Savoy, was in love with her, and on one occasion offered her a repast at which all the silver plate was in the form of f^uitars, by way of compliment to her, she being a skilful player of that instrument. Madan:ie Royale was in the habit of mocking the duke's infirmity in presence of the courtiers. She seems to have been well entitled to the character given to her by Gramont. Keysler, in his Travels (vol. i., page 239), speaking of a fine villa, called La Vigne de Madame Royale, near Turin, says, ' ' During the minority under the regent Christina, both the house and garden were often the scenes of riot and debauchery. On this account, in the king's adv.anced age, when he was, as it were, inflamed with an external flame of religion, and with which possibly the admoni- tions of his father-confessor might concur, this place became so odious to him that, upon the death of Madame Royale, he bestowed it on the hospital." She died in 1663. CouiKj -Ds (j-\Amo:>cT. 59 would have liked it more simple than as it was practised at Turin. The ordinary forms would not have shocked him ; but he found here a sort of superstition in the ceremonies and worship of love, which he thought very much out of place ; however, as he had submitted his conduct in the matter to the direction of the Chevalier de Gramont, he was obliged to follow his example, and to conform to the customs of the country. They enlisted themselves at the same time in the service of two beauties, whose former knights imme- diately retired from motives of politeness. The Chevalier de Gramont chose Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain, and told Matta to offer his services to Madame de Senantes. Matta consented, though he liked the other better ; but the Chevalier de Gramont gave him to understand that Madame de Senantes was more suitable for him. As he had reaped advantage from the Chevalier's talents in the first projects they had formed, he resolved to follow his instructions in love, as he had done his advice in play. Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain was in the bloom of youth ; her eyes were small, but very bright and spark- ling, and, like her hair, they were black ; her complexion was lively and clear, though not remarkable for white- ness ; she had an agreeable mouth, fine teeth, a neck as handsome as one could wish, and a most delightful figure. Her arms were well shaped, and there was a particular elegance in her elbows, which, however, was of no particular advantage. As for her hands, which were rather large, she easily consoled herself for the fact that the time when they would be white had not yet come. Her feet, though not of the smallest, were well shaped. 63 ^ir£^irori{.s of the Trusting to Providence, she used no art to set off the graces which she had received from nature ; but, not- withstanding her negligence in the embellishment of her charms, there was something so piquant about her face, that the Chevalier de Gramont was caught at first sight. Her wit and humour corresponded with her other qualities, being natural and pleasant ; she was all mirth, life, complaisance and politeness, and all was natural, and ever the same without any variation. The Marchioness de Senantes " was esteemed fair, and she might have enjoyed, if she had pleased, the repu- tation of having red hair, had she not rather chosen to conform to the taste of the age in which she lived, than to follow that of the ancients. She had all the advan- tages of red hair without any of the inconveniences. Constant attention served as a corrective to the natural defects of her charms. After all, what does it signify, whether cleanliness be owing to nature or to art ^ it argues an invidious temper, to be very inquisitive about it. She had a great deal of wit, a good memory, more reading, and a still greater inclination towards tenderness. She had a husband, whom the chastest woman would have hesitated to spare. He piqued himself upon being a Stoic, and gloried in being slovenly and disgusting in honour of his profession. In this he succeeded to admi- ration ; for he was very fat, and perspired in winter as in summer. Erudition and brutality seemed to be the most conspicuous features of his character, and were displayed - Horace Walpole noted, in his edition of Gramont's Memoirs, that the family of Senantes was still existent in Piedmont. The head of it bore the title of Marquis de Carailles. Courij Tis g%ici/"0.\;r. 6i in his conversation sometimes together, sometimes alter- nately, but always out of season ; he was not jealous, and yet he was troublesome ; he was very well pleased to see that attentions were paid to his wife, provided that more were paid to him. As soon as our adventurers had declared themselves, the Chevalier de Gramont arrayed himself in green habiliments, and dressed Matta in blue, these being the colours of their new mistresses. They immediately entered upon duty. The Chevalier learnt and prac- tised all the ceremonies of this species of gallantry, as if he had been accustomed to them during his whole life ; but Matta commonly forgot one half, and was not over perfect in practising the other. He never could remember that his office was to promote the glory, and not the interest, of his mistress. The Duchess of Savoy gave the very next day an entertainment at La Vcnerie,^ where all the ladies were invited. The Chevalier de Gramont said so many agreeable and diverting things to his mistress that he made her laugh outright. Matta, in leading his lady to ^ This place is thus described hy Keysler early in the eighteenth century {^Travels, vol. i., page 235) : " The palace most frequented by the rc>yal family is La Venerie, the Court generally cintinuing there from the spring to December. It is about a league from Turin ; the road that leads to it is well paved, and the greatest part of it planted with trees on each side ; it is not always in a direct line, but runs a little winding between fine meadows, fields, and vineyards." After describing the palace as it then was, he adds : " The palace-garden at present consists only (f hedges and walks, whereas formerly it had fine water-works and grottos, besides the fountain of Hercules and the temple of Diana, of which a description may be seen in the No^tveau I'hedtre de PieJinout (1700, 2 vols.). Hut now, nothing of these remains, being gone to ruin, partly by the ravages of the French, and partly Ijy the king's order that they should be demolished, to make room for something else ; but those vacuities are not yet, and probably will not very soon be filled up." 62 .•'^r£rimi=J{S OF THE the coach, squeezed her hand, and upon their return from the promenade begged of her to take pity on his sufferings. This was proceeding rather too precipitate!)-, and, although Madame de Senantes was not less com- passionate than other women, she was nevertheless shocked at the familiarity of this treatment. She thought herself obliged to show some degree of resent- ment, and, pulling away her hand, which he had pressed with still greater fervency upon this declaration, she went up to Madame Royale's apartments without even looking at her new lover. Matta, never thinking that he had offended her, allowed her to go, and went in search of some company to sup with him : nothing was easier for a man of his disposition ; he soon found what he wanted, remained for a long time at table to refresh himself after the fatigues of love, and went to bed completely satisfied with his day's work. During all this time the Chevalier de Gramont acquitted himself to perfection of his duties towards Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain, and, without any re- mission in his assiduities, found a means to shine, as they went along, in the relation of a thousand enter- taining anecdotes, which he introduced into the general conversation. The Duchess of Savoy heard them with pleasure, and the solitary Senantes likewise attended to them. Gramont perceived this, and quitted his mistress to ask the marchioness what she had done w ith Matta. " I ! " said she, " I have done nothing with him ; but I don't know what he would have done with me if I had been obliging enough to listen to his most humble solicitations." / / fffi /{/ ^/h' • /h ■ / / {f / f Coa-xj Tie g-\.-Uziro.xT. 63 She then told the Chevalier de Gramont in what manner his friend had treated her on the very second day of their acquaintance. The Chevalier could not forbear laughing at it : he told her that Matta was rather uncere- monious, but that she would like him better as their intimacy improved, and for her consolation he assured her that he would have spoken in the same manner to her royal highness herself; however, he would not fail to give him a severe reprimand. He went the next morning into his room for that purpose ; but Matta had gone out early on a shooting expedition, to which he had been invited by his supper companions on the pre- ceding evening. At his return, he took a brace of partridges and went to his mistress. Being asked whether he wished to see the marquis, he said, no ; and the hall-porter telling him that his lady was not at home, he left his partridges, and desired the servant to present them to his mistress on his behalf The marchioness was at her toilet, and was decorating her head with all the grace she could devise to captivate Matta, at the moment when he was denied admittance : she knew nothing of the matter ; but her husband was well aware of it. He had taken it in dudgeon, that the first visit was not paid to himself, and as he was resolved that it should not be paid to his wife, the hall-porter had received his orders, and had almost been beaten for receiving the present which had been left. The par- tridges, however, were immediately sent back ; and Matta, without examining into the cause, was glad to have them again. He went to Court without ever changing his clothes, or in the least considering that he 64 ~zir£-lTOn{.K OF THE ought not to appear there without his lady's colours. He found her becomingly dressed ; her eyes appeared to him full of fire, and her person very agreeable. He began from that moment to feel extremely pleased with himself for his complaisance to the Chevalier de Gramont, though he could not help remarking that the marchioness looked but coldly upon him. This appeared to him a very extraordinary return for his services, and, imagining that she was unmindful of her obligations to him, he entered into conversation with her, and severely repri- manded her for having sent back his partridges with so much indifference. She did not understand what he meant ; and highly offended that he did not apologize, after the reprimand which she concluded he had received, she told him that he must certainly have met with ladies of a very com- plying disposition in his travels, for his behaviour was such as she was by no means accustomed to endure. Matta desired to know in what way his behaviour was so novel. " In what way .'' " said she ; "why, the second day that you honoured me with your attentions, you treated me as if I had been your humble servant for a thousand years: the first time that I gave you my hand you squeezed it as violently as you were able. After thus beginning your courtship, I got into my coach, and you mounted your horse ; but, instead of riding by the side of the coach, as other gallants do, no sooner did a hare start from her form than you immediately galloped full speed after her ; and you regaled yourself, during the promenade, by taking snuff, without deigning to Cou-XT "DS g%.4^ito:\j. 65 bestow a thought on me. The only proof you gave me, on your return, that you recollected me, was by soliciting me to surrender my reputation in terms polite enough, but very explicit. And now you talk to me of a shooting party, of partridges, and of some visit or other, which, I suppose, you have been dreaming about, as well as all the rest." The Chevalier de Gramont arrived just as they had reached this point of the conversation, Matta was rebuked for his forwardness, and his friend took abundant pains to convince him that his conduct had bordered more upon insolence than familiarity. Matta endeavoured to exculpate himself, but succeeded ill. His mistress took compassion upon him, and consented to accept his excuses for the manner in which he had offended rather than his repentance for the offence itself, and declared that it was the intention alone which could either justify or condemn in such cases ; that it was easy to pardon those transgressions which arose from an excess of tenderness, but not such as proceeded from a presumption of facile success. Matta swore that he had only squeezed her hand from the violence of his passion, and that he had been driven, by necessity, to ask her to relieve it ; that he was yet a novice in the arts of solici- tation ; that he could not possibly think her more worthy of his affections, after a month's service, than at the present moment ; and that he entreated her to remember him whenever the occasion offered. The marchioness was not offended ; she saw very well that she must not insist upon the observance of the estab- lished rules of decorum when she had to deal with a 66 ^i[e^iron{.s of the man of such a character; and the Chevah'er de Gramont, after this sort of reconcihation, went to look after his own affairs with Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain. It was not mere good nature that induced him to meddle in Malta's business ; indeed, it was the reverse ; for no sooner did he perceive that Madame de Senantes was favourably inclined towards himself than, this con- quest appearing to him more easy than the other, he thought it advisable to effect it, for fear that he might lose the opportunity, and spend all his time to no purpose, in case he should prove unsuccessful with the little Saint-Germain. In the meanwhile, in order to maintain that authority which he had usurped over the conduct of his friend, he that very evening, notwithstanding what had been already said, reprimanded him for presuming to appear at Court in his rustic costume, and without his mistress's badge ; for not having had the wit or prudence to pay his first visit to the Marquis de Senantes, instead of consuming his time to no purpose, in inquiries for the lady ; and, to conclude, he asked him what the devil he meant by presenting her with a brace of miserable red partridges. "And why not.'" said Matta : "ought they to have been blue, too, to match the cockade and swordknots you made me wear the other day ? Plague me not with your nonsensical whimsies, my poor Chevalier. May the devil take me if in another fortnight you have not become a greater fool than all the simpletons of Turin ; but, to reply to your questions, I did not call upon Monsieur de Senantes, because I had nothing to do Cou:xy "DS g%^,^'M:o:KJ. 67 with him ; he is a brute whom I dislike, and always shall dislike. As for you, you appear quite charmed with being decked out in green ribands, with writing letters to your mistress, and filling your pockets with citrons, pistachios, and such sort of stuff, with which you are always stuffing the poor girl against her inclination. You hope to succeed by chanting ditties, composed in the days of Corisanda and Henry IV.,* which you will swear you yourself composed for her. Happy in prac- tising the ceremonials of gallantry, you have no ambition for the essentials. Very well : every one has a particular way of acting, as well as a particular taste : yours is to trifle in love ; and, provided you can make Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain laugh, you are satisfied. As for my part, I am persuaded that women here are made of the same materials as in other places ; and I do not think that they can be mightily offended, if one sometimes leaves off trifling, to come to the point. However, if Madame de Senantes is not of this way of thinking, she may provide for herself elsewhere ; for I can assure her, that I shall not long act the part of her footman." This was an unnecessary menace ; for the marchioness in reality liked him very well, was nearly of the same way of thinking herself, and wished for nothing better than to put his gallantry to the test. But Matta pro- ceeded upon a wrong plan ; he had conceived such an aversion to her husband, that he could not prevail upon himself to make the smallest advance to win his good graces. He was given to understand, that he ought to •* See note ante, p. 36. 6S •ire(T. 79 him, in order to reproach the Chevalier with his eternal passion for play, which made him always unreliable. The Chevalier, who knew that he was still more cul- pable than they thought, bore it all with patience, and condemned himself more than they desired. This appeased them ; and the entertainment ended more quietly than it had begun. The conversation was again reduced to order ; still the Chevalier could not enliven it as he usually did. He was in very ill humour, and as he pressed them every minute to rise from table, the marquis thought that he had lost a great deal at play. Matta said, on the contrary, that he had won ; but for want of precautions had made perhaps an un- fortunate retreat ; and he asked him if he had not stood in need of sergeant La Place, with his ambuscade. This piece of history was beyond the comprehension of the marquis, and the Chevalier being afraid that Matta might explain it, changed the discourse, and was for rising from table ; but Matta would not consent to this. His refusal effected a reconciliation between him and the marquis, who thought it a piece of civility intended for himself; however, it was not out of consideration for him, but for his wine, which Matta found to his liking. Madame Royale, who knew the character of the marquis, was charmed with the account which the Chevalier de Gramont gave her of the entertainment and conversation. She sent for Matta to know the truth of it from himself. He confessed, that before the Allobroges were mentioned the marquis was for quarrel- ling with him, because he was not in love with his wife. Their acquaintance having begun in this manner, all .So rire^^iroi%s of the the esteem which the marquis had formerly expressed for the Chevaher now seemed directed towards Matta. He went every day to pay Matta a visit, and Matta was every day with his wife. This did not at all suit the Chevalier. He repented of having chid Matta, whose assiduity now interfered with all his schemes ; and the marchioness was still more embarrassed. Whatever wit a man may have, it will never please where his company is disliked ; and she would have been better pleased had she not made some trifling advances to him. Matta began to find charms in her person, and might have found the same in her conversation, if she had been inclined to display them ; but it is impossible to be in a good humour with persons who thwart our designs. While Matta's passion increased, the Chevalier de Gramont was sold}- occupied in endeavouring to find out some method, by v.'hich he might accomplish his intrigue ; and this was the stratagem which he finally put in execution, to clear the coast, by removing both the lover and the husband at one and the same time. He told Matta that they ought to invite the marquis to supper at their lodgings, and that he would take upon himself to provide everything proper for the occasion. Matta desired to know if it was to play at quinze, and assured him that he should take care to frustrate any in- tention he might have to engage in play, and leave him alone with the greatest blockhead in all Europe. The Chevalier de Gramont did not entertain any such thought, being persuaded that it would be impossible for him to profit of this occasion, no matter how he might take his measures, for they would search for him in every comer of the city rather than allow him the least repose. His whole attention was therefore em- ployed in rendering the entertainment agreeable, in prolonging it, and in promoting a dispute between the marquis and Matta. For this purpose he put himself in the best humour in the world, and the wine produced the same effect on the rest of the company. The Chevalier de Gramont expressed his concern, that he had not been able to give Monsieur de Senantes a little concert, as he had intended in the morning ; however, all the musicians had been pre-engaged. Upon this the marquis undertook to have them at his country- house the following evening, and invited the same com- pany to sup with him there. Matta asked what the devil they wanted with music, and maintained, that it was of no use on such occasions but for women, who had something to say to their lovers, while the fiddles prevented them from being overheard ; or for fools, who could never find anything to say when the music was not playing. They ridiculed all his arguments, how- ever : the party was fixed for the next day, and the majority voted in favour of the fiddles. The marquis, to console Matta, as well as to do honour to the enter- tainment, then toasted a great many healths, and Matta was more ready to fall in with him in this respect than to side with him in a dispute. However, the Chevalier perceived that very little would irritate them, and desired nothing more earnestly than to see them engaged in some new controversy. It was in vain that he had from time to time started some subject of discourse with this intention ; but having luckily thought of asking the I. G Sa ■•ir£cnroi-T{s of -the marquis \\hat was liis lady's maiden name, Senantes, who was a great genealogist, as all fools are who have good memories, immediately began to trace out her lineage, commingling various degrees of descent in a confused, interminable way. The Chevalier pretended to listen to him with great attention ; and perceiving that Matta was almost out of patience, he desired him to attend to what the marquis was saying, for nothing could be more entertaining. " That is a very polite remark," said Matta ; " but for my part I must confess, if I were married, I should prefer to inform myself as to who was the real father of my children, than as to who were my wife's grand- fathers." The marquis, treating this rudeness with contempt, did not leave off until he had traced back his wife's ancestors, from line to line, as far as Yolande de Senantes ; after this, he offered to prove, in less than half an hour, that the Gramonts had come originally from Spain. " Pooh," said Matta, " what do we care as to where the Gramonts came from .'' Are you not aware, sir, that it is better to know nothing at all than to know too much ? " The marquis maintained the contrary with great warmth, and was preparing a formal argument to prove that an ignorant man is a fool ; but the Chevalier de Gramont, who was thoroughly acquainted with Matta, saw very clearly that he would send the logician to the devil if he arrived at the conclusion of his syllogism : for which reason, interposing as soon as they began to raise their voices, he told them it was ridiculous to quarrel about nothing, and treated the matter in a serious light, that his words might make the greater impression. Thus supper terminated peaceably, owing to the care he took to suppress all disputes, and to substitute plenty of wine in their stead. The next day Matta went shooting, while the Chevalier de Gramont repaired to the bagnio, and the marquis to his country-house. While the latter was making the necessary preparations for his guests, not forgetting the fiddles, and Matta was pursuing his game to get an appetite, the Chevalier meditated on the execution of his project. As soon as he had regulated his plan of operations in his own mind, he privately sent anonymous intelligence to the officer of the guard on duty at the palace, that the Marquis de Senantes had had some words with Monsieur de Matta the preceding night at supper ; that the one had gone out early in the morning, and that the other could not be found in the city. Madame Royale, alarmed at this news, immediately sent for the Chevalier de Gramont, who appeared sur- prised when her highness mentioned the affair : he con- fessed, indeed, that some high words had passed be- tween his friends, but he did not believe that either would have remembered them the next day. He said, that if no mischief had }et taken place, the best course \\'ould be to secure them both until the morning, and that if the}' could be found, he would undertake to reconcile them and prevent matters from going any further. In this there was no great difficulty. On inquir}' at the marquis's, S4 -ire-viraz-T^.v of the the guard were informed that he had gone to his country- house ; they went there, and there they found him ; the officer placed a sentry over him, without assigning any reason for so doing, and left him in a state of great surprise. Immediately upon Matta's return from shooting, Madame Royale sent the same officer to desire him to give her his word that he would not stir out that evening. This compliment very much surprised him, more par- ticularly as no reason was assigned for it. A good meal awaited him elsewhere, he was dying with hunger, and in these circumstances nothing appeared to him more unreasonable than to oblige him to stay at home ; but he had given his word, and not knowing to what this might tend, his only resource was to send for his friend. But his friend did not come to him until his return from the country, where he had found the marquis in the midst of his fiddlers, very much vexed at being a prisoner in his own house on account of Matta, whom he was waiting for in order to feast him. He complained of him bitterly to the Chevalier de Gramont, saying that he did not believe he had offended him ; and he requested the Chevalier to acquaint him that, since he was so desirous of a quarrel, he should, if it suited him, have his desire gratified on the first opportunity. The Chevalier de Gramont assured the marquis that no such thought had ever entered the mind of Matta ; that, on the contrary, he knew that Matta greatly esteemed him; that all this could only have arisen from the extreme tender- ness of his lady, who, taking alarm at the report of the servants who had waited at table, must have gone to her royal highness, in order to prevent any unpleasant conse- quences. He thought this the more probable, as he had often told the marchioness, when speaking of Matta, that he was the best swordsman in France ; for, in truth, the poor fellow had never fought without having the misfortune of killing his man. The marquis, being a little pacified, said he was very much obliged to him ; that he would severely chide his wife for her unseasonable tenderness, and that he was extremely desirous of again enjoying his dear friend Malta's company. The Chevalier de Gramont assured him that he would use all his endeavours for that purpose, and at the same time gave strict charge to the guards not to let the marquis escape without orders from the Court, as he seemed fully bent upon fighting, and they would be responsible for him. There was no occasion to say more to have him strictly watched, though for this there was no necessity. One man being thus safely lodged, the Chevalier's next step was to secure the other. He returned im- mediately to town ; and Matta, as soon as he saw him, said : " What the devil is the meaning of this farce which I am obliged to act .'' For my part, I cannot understand the foolish customs of this country : how comes it that they have made me a prisoner upon parole .'' " " How comes it .'' " said the Chevalier de Gramont ; " it is because you yourself are far more unaccountable than all their customs ; you cannot restrain yourself from disputing with a peevish fellow, whom you ought S6 ^l[e.-Si[OI-RJi OF THE only to laugh at : some officious servant has no doubt been talking of your last night's dispute : you were seen leaving the town in the morning, and the marquis left soon after : was not this sufficient to make her royal highness think herself obliged to take these precautions ? Se- nantcs is in custody, but they have only required }'our parole ; far, therefore, from taking the affair in the way you do, I should send very humbly to thank her highness for the kindness she has manifested towards you, in putting you under arrest, since it is only on your account that she interests herself in the affair. I am going to take a turn at the palace, where I will endeavour to unravel this mystery ; in the mean time, as there is but little probability that the matter could be settled this evening, you will do well to order supper ; for I shall come back to you immediately." Matta charged him not to fail to express to her royal highness the grateful sense he had of her favour, though in truth he feared the marquis as little as he liked him ; and it is impossible to express the degree of his fortitude in stronger terms. The Chevalier de Gramont returned in about half an hour, with two or three gentlemen whom Matta had become acquainted with while he was out shooting, and who, upon the report of the quarrel, waited upon him, and separately offered him their services against the unassisted and pacific marquis. Matta having returned them his thanks, insisted upon their staying supper, and put on his dressing gown. As soon as matters took the course which the Chevalier de Gramont desired, that when towards the end of the repast he saw the toasts go merrily round, he knew he was sure of his man till next day. Then taking him aside, v/ith the permission of the company, he made a false statement in order to disguise real treachery, telling him, after having sworn him several times to secrecy, that he had at last prevailed upon the little Saint-Germain to grant him an interview that night ; for which reason he would take his leave, under pretence of going to play at Court. He requested him to impress upon the company that he left them merely for that purpose, the Piedmontese being naturally mistrustful. Matta promised he would manage this point with dis- cretion ; adding that he would make apologies for him, so that there was no occasion for his personally taking leave. Then, after embracing the Chevalier by way of congratulating him upon the happy posture of his affairs, he sent him away with all possible expedition and secrecy ; so great was his fear lest his friend should lose the present opportunity. Matta then returned to the company, delighted with the confidence which had been placed in him, and with the share he had in the success of this adventure. He exerted himself in playing the wag so as to put his guests on the wrong scent ; he railed at those, whose passion for gaming was so great that they gave up every other diversion to spend their nights at play ; he loudly ridiculed the folly of the Chevalier in this respect, and secretly laughed at the credulity of the Piedmontese, whom he deceived with so much ingenuity. It was late at night before the company broke up, and Matta went to bed, very well satisfied with what he had 88 c^f£c1/0/2^.V Of THE COU.\r DS g'l^AzT^Wyj'. done for his friend ; and, if we may credit appearances, this friend enjoyed the fruit of liis perfidy. The amorous marchioness received him attired Uke one who wishes to enhance the value of the favour she bestows. Her charms were far from being neglected ; and if there are occasions when one may detest the traitoi, while profit- ing by the treason, this was certainly not one of them. However discreet the Chevalier de Gramont was in his intrigues, it was not owing to him that the contrary was not believed ; be that as it may, he was convinced, that in love whatever is gained by address, is gained fairly ; and it does not appear that he ever showed the smallest degree of repentance for this trick. But it is now time for us to take him from the Court of Savoy, to see him shine at that of France. CHAPTER IV. The Chevalier's 7-e/iini 1o France — He makes his peace at Court — His luck at play jcnth Cardinal Mazarin — He proceeds to Arras, and has an intervieiv wi h the Prince de Conde — He cleverly eludes capture whilst conveying the news of Turenne's victory — Is embraced by the Queen in presence of the entire Court — He boldly speaks his mind to the Cardinal — Peace of the Pyrenees and death of Alazarin — Louis XIV. assumes power and pays his addresses to Mademoiselle de la Motte-Houdancourt — Rivalry between the King and the Chevalier de Gramont — Exile of the Chevalier, who resolves to visit Engla7id. HE Chevalier de Gramont, upon his return to France, sustained, with the greatest success, the reputation he had acquired abroad. Alert at play, active and vigilant in love ; sometimes successful, and always feared, in his intrigues ; in war alike pre- pared for the events of good or ill fortune ; possessing an inexhaustible fund of pleasantry in the former, and full of expedients and dexterity in the latter. Attached to the Prince de Conde ^ from incHnation, ' Louis de Bourbon, Duke d'Enghien, was born in 1620, and became Prince de Conde on the death of his father in 1646. He was a born general. At the age of twenty-tno he gained the famous battle of 90 iir£'Z.VOI%S OF THE he witnessed, and, if we may be allowed to say it, shared the glory the prince had acquired at the celebrated battles of Lens, Nordlingen, and Fribourg ; and the details the Chevalier so frequently gave of them were far from diminishing their lustre. So long as he had only some scruples of conscience, and various interests to sacrifice, he quitted all to follow a man, whom strong motives and resentments, which in some measure appeared excusable, had withdrawn from the paths of rectitude. He adhered to him in his first disgrace, with a constancy of which there are few examples ; but he could not submit to the injuries which he afterwards received, and which such an inviolable attachment so little merited. Therefore, without fearing any reproach for conduct which sufficiently justified itself, as he had formerly deviated from his duty to enter the service of the Prince de Conde, he thought he had a right to leave the latter to return to his duty again. over the Spaniards, and afterwards, with Turenne serving under him, he defeated Mercy at Fribourg, where he is sa'd to have thrown his cane into the enemy's trenches and recovered it sword in hand. In 1645 he gained the battle of Nordlingen, and three years afterwards that of Lens, which put an end to the Thirty Years' War. Conde took a leading part in the troubles of the Fronde, and afterwards, allying himself with the Spaniards, fought against his old companion in arms, Turenne. At the peace of the Pyrenees he was allowed to return to France, and in conjunction with Turenne commanded the French army in the Netherlands during 1672-4. Soon after the death of the latter, Conde retired to Chantilly, "from whence," says Voltaire, "he very rarely came to Versailles, to behold his glory eclipsed in a place where the courtier never regards anything but favour. He passed the remainder of his days, tormented with the gout, relieving the severity of his pains, and employing the leisure of his retreat, in the conversation of men of genius of all kinds, with which France then abounded. He was worthy of their conversation, as he was not un- acquainted with any of those arts and sciences in which they shone. He continued to be admired even in his retreat ; but at last the strength ol his mind decaying with that of his body, there remained nothing of the Great Conde during the last two years of his life. He died in 16S6." — ■ A!;c of Louis XIV., chap. 11. Com\:T -Ds g%/i.z3mi\:T. 91 His peace was soon made at Court, Avhere many, far more culpable than himself, were received into favour, whenever they desired it ; for the queen,- still terrified at the dangers into which the civil wars had plunged the state at the commencement of her regency, endeavoured by lenient measures to conciliate the minds of the people. The policy of the minister^ was neither sanguinary nor revengeful. His favourite maxim was rather to appease the minds of the discontented by leniency, than to have recourse to violent measures ; to rest content with losing nothing by the war, without being at the expense of - Anne of Austria, daughter of Philip III. of .Spain, widow of Louis XIII., to whom she was married in 1615, and mother of Louis XIV. She died in 1666. Cardinal de Retz thus speaks of her : — "The queen had more, than anybody whom I ever knew, of that sort of "wit which was necessary for her not to appear a fool to those who did not know her. She had in her more of harshness than haughtiness ; more of haughtiness than of greatness ; more of outward appearance than reality ; more regard for money than liberality ; more of liberality than of self-interest ; more of self-interest than disinterestedness ; she was more tied to persons by habit than by affection : she had more of insensibility than of cruelty ; she had a better memory for injuries than for benefits ; her intention towards piety w'as greater than her piety ; she had in her more of obstinacy than of firmness ; and more incapacity than of all the rest which I mentioned before.'' — Memoirs, vol. i., p. 247. ^ Giulio Mazarini, commonly known as Cardinal Mazarin, who, during a few of the latter years of his life, governed France. He was born at Piscina, in the south of Italy, in 1602, and became chief minister in France on the death of Cardinal de Richelieu. He is generally represented as a great miser, but he certainly spent large sums of money in forming a very remarkable library and collection of paintings, and in giving operatic performances by Italian musicians and vocalists. He also behaved generously towards men of letters, and presented the Abbe Quillet with the abbey of Doudeauville for his poem La CaUipa:dia. One of the best sustained charges against Mazarin is that he was a sceptic, caring nothing whatever for religion, despite his high position in the Church. The cardinal's intrigue and subsequent marriage with Anne of Austria seem to be a matter of certainty. The Duchess de Nemours and Mesdames de Motteville and Talon deny the truth of the reports ; but Mazarin's own correspondence, the memoirs of Cardinal de Retz, those of Lomenie de Brienne, and the letters of the Duchess of Orleans (Henrietta of England), all support the generally received opinion. The Duchess of Orleans adds that Mazarin had never been ordained a priest, so that he was at liberty to marry. 92 c,i[e-yiroi%s of the gaining any advantage from the enemy ; to suffer people to speak ill of him, provided he could amass great wealth, and to spin out the minority to the greatest possible extent. His avidity to heap up riches was not confined to the thousand different means, with which he was furnished by the authority he exercised. His one pursuit was gain. He was naturally fond of gaming ; but he only played to enrich himself, and cheated as much as possible in view of winning. The Chevalier de Gramont — whom the cardinal found very witty, and who, as he saw, possessed a great deal of money — proved to his liking, and soon became one of his set. The Chevalier speedily perceived the artfulness and dishonesty of the cardinal, and thought it was allowable for him to avail himself of those talents which he had received from nature, not only in his own defence, but even to attack the other whenever an opportunity offered."* This would certainly be the place to mention ■* In the seventeenth century cheating at cards was not looked upon in the same light as it is now-a-days. Cardinal Mazarin, whom Gramont de- frauded, was said to have been himself an adept at the practice, which, according to the memoirs of the Count de Brienne, he termed "turning his position to account." .St. Simon mentions numerous instances of cheating at the Court of Louis XIV., where there was no lack of card-sharpers ; and Madame de .Sevigne, in a letter dated March II, 1670, writes that a great lord has received orders from the king to withdraw from Versailles, " after winning five hundred thousand crowns with prepared cards, and ruining all who have played with him during the past two months." On another occasion she writes to her daughter : " You think that everybody plays like you. Remember what happened lately at the Hotel de la Vieuville. Do you recollect the thievery ? " Most of the sharpers who were exposed took their discomfiture philosophically, but such was not the case with an adventurer named .Souscarriere, an illegitimate scion of the Bellegarde family, whom Tallemant des Reaux mentions in his Historiettes : "He was a cheat, and one day when he was playing at primero his adversary saw that he had made away with a primero which Cou.-xj Ds gx^uifo-xr. 93 his adventures in this respect ; but who can describe them with such ease and elegance, as may be expected by those who have heard his own relation of them ? Vainly would one endeavour to transcribe these enter- taining anecdotes, their spirit seems to evaporate upon paper ; and in whatever way they are set forth, they lose all their vivacity. It will suffice then to say, that upon all occasions when address was reciprocally employed, the Chevalier gained the advantage ; and that if he paid his court badly to the minister, he had the consolation to find, that those who suffered themselves to be cheated, gained in the end no great advantage from their complaisance ; they alwaj-s continued in a state of abject submission, whereas the Chevalier de Gramont, on a thousand different occasions, never put himself under the least restraint ; of which the following is one instance. The Spanish army, commanded by the Prince de Conde and the Archduke,"' was besieging Arras. The Court had advanced as far as Peronne.'' The enemy, by the capture of this place, would have procured a repu- tation for their army, of which they were in great need ; as the French, for a considerable time past, had obtained the advantage in every engagement. The prince supported a tottering party, as far as their usual inactivity and irresolution permitted him to do ; but as in warfare it is necessary to act independently on he had upon his knees. There was the devil of a stir. Souscarriere was 77 years old, and age and grief at this exposure killed him." * Leopold, brother of the Emperor Ferdinand III. ^ A little but strong town, standing among the marshes on the river Somme, in Picardy. 94 'ire>iroji{s of the some occasions, which, if once suffered to escape, can never be retrieved, it frequently happened that his great abilities were of no avail. The Spanish infantry had never recovered since the battle of Rocroi ; "' and he who had ruined them by that victor}', by fighting against them, was the only man who now, by com- manding their army, was capable of repairing the mischief he had done them. But the jealousy of the generals, and the distrust of the council, tied his hands. Nevertheless the siege of Arras was vigorously carried on. The cardinal sufficiently realised how dishonourable it would be to suffer this place to be taken under his nose, and almost in sight of the king. On the other hand, it was very hazardous to attempt its relief, the Prince de Conde being a man who never neglected the slightest precaution for the security of his lines ; and if lines are attacked, and not forced, the greatest danger threatens the assailants ; for the more furious the assault, the greater is the disorder in the retreat ; and no man in the world knew so well as the Prince de Conde how to make the best use of an advantage. The army, com- manded by Monsieur de Turenne, was considerably weaker than that of the enemy ; still it was the only resource one had to depend upon. If this army were defeated, the loss of Arras would not be the only misfortune to be dreaded. The cardinal, whose genius was adapted to such occasions when deceitful negotiations could extricate him out of difficulties, was filled with terror at the " This famous battle was fought and won May 19, 1643, five days after the death of Louis XIII. prospect of imminent danger, or a decisive event. He was in favour of laying siege to some other place, the capture of which might prove a compensation for the loss of Arras ; but Monsieur de Turenne, who was altogether of a different opinion from the cardinal, resolved to march upon the enemy, and did not acquaint him with his intentions until he was upon the road. The courier arrived in the midst of the cardinal's distress, and redoubled his alarm ; but the matter could no longer be remedied. The marshal, whose great reputation had gained him the confidence of the troops,^ had determined upon his measures before an express order from the Court could prevent him. This was one of those occasions in which ** Henry cle la Tour d'Auvergne, Viscount de Turenne, marshal-general of the camps and armies of the king, was born in i6i I. As is well known, he greatly contributed to the victories which brought about the end of the Thirty Years' War ; he figured prominently in the troubles of the Fronde, and by gaining the battle of the Dunes over Conde and the Spaniards in 1658, induced Philip IV. to sign the treaty of the Pyrenees. Following the statements made by Sandras de Courtilz in his V/'e dii Vicomle de Turenne {16S5), historians have frequently reproached the marshal for devastating the Palatinate in 1674. Voltaire, however, writing to Collini in October, 1767, pointed out various errors of fact in this accusation ; and according to M. de Griemoard's Histoire des dcrniercs Campagnes de Turenne (1782, vol. ii., p. 117), the marshal on this occasion displayed fitting moderation. He states that it was in 1689, during the expedition of Marshal deDuras and General Melac, that the towns of the Palatinate were fired. Dangeau, writing in his Journal at that period, says (vol. ii., p. 406): "Spire, Worms, Oppenheim, have been burnt to prevent the enemy from esta- blishing themselves in those towns and deriving help from them." The Princess Palatine, in one of her letters, casts all the blame upon Louvois, and remarks : " When I think of all that M. Louvois has had burnt in the Palatinate, I believe he will burn terribly in the other world." Turenne had then been dead for fourteen years, having been killed at Salzbach in 1675, while defending Alsace against the Imperialists. It is stated in the memoirs of the Count de Rochefort that his death \\'as due to the imprudence of M. de Saint-IIilaire, lieutenant-general of artillery, whom Turenne had taken with him to select a position for a battery. Saint-Hilaire went forth wearing a scarlet cloak, which made it apparent to the enemy that they were officers. Fire was therefore opened upon them, and the same Imll that killed the marshal took off one of the 96 iiree1fO/5^5 OF -THE the difficulties you encounter lieighten the glory of suc- cess. Though the general's capacity, in some measure, afforded comfort to the Court, one was upon the eve of an event, which in one way or other must bring hopes and fears alike to an issue. While the rest of the courtiers were giving various opinions concerning what would happen, the Chevalier de Gramont determined to be an eye-witness of it ; a resolution which greatly surprised the Court ; for those, who had seen as many actions as he had, seemed to be exempted from such eagerness ; but it was in vain that his friends opposed his resolutions. The king was pleased with his intention ; and the queen appeared no less satisfied. He assured her that he would bring her good news ; and she promised to embrace him, if he kept his word. The cardinal made the same promise. To the latter, however, he did not pay much attention ; yet he believed it sincere, be- cause the keeping of it would cost the cardinal nothing. arms of .Saint-Hilaire, whose son burst into tears at the sight. The latter records in Iris memoirs tliat his father said to him, '* Vou should not weep for me, but for the death of that great man " — alluding to 'J'urenne. According to Saint-Hilaire, Count Hamilton was present at the death of Turenne. Monsieur de Boze had twice sent to beg Turenne to come to the jDlace where the flattery was to be erected, but he, as if by presentiment, declined. Count PTamilton firought the third anxious re- quest from De Doze ; and in riding to the place where he was, Turenne received his death-blow. The horse of Montecuculi, the opposite general, was, in the course of the same day, killed by a cannon-shot. "Turenne," says Voltaire, "had not always been successful in his wars ; he had been defeated at IMariendal, Retel, and Cambrai ; he had also committed errors, and was himself so great a man as to confess them. He never made celebrated conquests, nor ever gained those great and important victories by which nations are subjected ; but having always repaired his defeats, and done very much with very little, he n-as regarded as the first general in Europe, at a time when the art of war was more studied and better understood than ever." — Age of Louis XIV., ch. II. C/DUZ. I', fl.l//-/, I COU-XT Tis g%.A^'ro.\T. 97 He set out in the dusk of the evening- with Caseau, whom Monsieur de Turenne had sent express to their majesties. The Duke of Vork^ and the Marquis d'Hu- mieres^" commanded under the marshal. The latter was upon duty when the Chevalier arrived, it being scarcely daylight. The Duke of York did not at first recognise him ; but the Marquis d'Humieres, running to him with open arms, said : " I thought if any man came from Court to pay us a visit upon such an occasion as this, it would be the Chevalier de Gramont. Well," continued he, "what are they doing at Peronne ? " " They are in great consternation," replied the Chevalier. " And what do they think of us ? " " They think," said he, " that if you beat the prince, you will do no more than your duty ; but if you are beaten, they will think you fools and madmen, thus to have risked everything, without considering the conse- quences." ' Priorato, in his memoirs of Cardinal Mazarin, mentions other English- men besides the Duke of York who were present, as Lords Gerard, Barcla)', and Jermyn, with others. — Memoirs, 1673, vok i., p. 365. '" Louis de Crevant, Marquis, and afterwards Duke d'Humieres, Marshal of France and Grand Master of the Artiller)-, Ijorn in 1628. Saint-.Simon describes him as being of the most amiab',o disposition and most agreeable manners, but sajs he showed no ability whatever as a general. Voltaire remarks that he was the first who, at the siege of Arr.is in 1658, was served in silver in the trenches, and had ragouts and entremets served at his t.able. He appears to have been fond of combining love with warfare, and was accused of neglecting his duties to occupy himself with his mistresses. A song composed in 1689 charges hiin with having lost the battle of Walcourt because his mind was oc- cupied with an actress of the opera named Barbareau. Again, in 1691 — the marshal was then sixty-three years of age — he is made to say in another song that as long as Sylvia responds to the fires of his heart he will in no wise dread the fire of artillerj'. He died in 1694. gS c'7/Ec:;j/"0/2^5 OF THE " Truly," said the marquis, " you bring us very comfortable news. Will you now come to Monsieur de Turcnne's quarters, to acquaint him with it ; or do you prefer to rest in mine? for you have been riding post all last night, and perhaps did not enjoy much repose during the preceding one." "Where have y( u heard that the Chevalier de Gramont needed sleep .-' " replied he; "only order me a horse, that I may have the honour to attend the Duke of York ; for, since he is in the field so early, he is most likely going to visit some posts." The advanced guard was only at cannon-shot from that of the enemy. As soon as they arrived there, " I should like," said the Chevalier de Gramont, " to advance as far as the sentry which is posted on that eminence ; I have some friends and acquaintances in their army, whom I wish to inquire after ; I hope the Duke of York will give me permission." At these words he advanced. The sentry, seeing him come forward towards his post, stood upon his guard, and the Chevalier stopped as soon as he was within shot of him. The sentry answered the sign which was made to him, and made another to an officer, who had begun to advance the moment he had seen the Chevalier come forward, and who soon reached him. Seeing the Chevalier de Gramont alone, he made no difficulty about letting him approach. The Chevalier desired leave of this officer to inquire after some relations he had in the army, and at the same time asked if the Duke d'Arscot was at the siege. " Sir," said the officer, " there he is, he has just alighted under those trees, which you see on the left of our main guard ; it is hardly a minute since he was here with the Prince d'Aremberg, his brother, the Baron de Limbec, and Louvigny." " May I see them upon parole ? " asked the Chevalier " Sir," replied the officer, " if I were allowed to quit my post, I would do myself the honour of accompanying you thither ; but I will send to acquaint them that the Chevalier de Gramont desires to speak to them." And, after having despatched one of his troopers towards them, he returned. " Sir," said the Chevalier de Gramont, " may I take the liberty to inquire how I came to be known to you ? " " Is it possible," replied the other, " that the Chevalier de Gramont should not recognise La Motte, who had the honour to serve so long in his regiment ? " " What ! is it you, my poor La Motte ? Truly, I was to blame for not remembering you, though you are dressed very differently to what you were, when I first saw you at Brussels, when you taught the Duchess de Guise to dance the ' triolets.' I am afraid your affairs are not in so flourishing a condition as they were during the campaign after I had given you the company you mention." They were talking in this manner, when the Duke d'Arscot, followed by the gentlemen above mentioned, came up at full gallop. The Chevalier de Gramont was embraced by the whole company before he could say a word. Soon after arrived an immense number of other acquaintances, with many people, out of curiosity, on both sides, who, seeing him upon the height, assembled together with such eagerness that the two armies, without H 2 100 <:MS^WI%S OF THE design, truce, or treacherous intention, were cooing to join in conversation, if, by chance, Monsieur de Turenne had not perceived it at a distance. The sight surprised him. He hastened that way; and the Marquis d'Humieres acquainted him with the arrival of the Chevalier de Gramont, who had wished to speak to the sentry before going to the head-quarters. He added, that he could not comprehend how the devil he had managed to assemble both armies around him, for it was hardly a minute since he had left him. "Truly," said Monsieur de Turenne, "he is a very extraordinary man ; but it is only reasonable that he should now let us have a little of his company, since he has paid his first visit to the enemy." At these words he despatched an aide-de-camp, to recall the officers of his army, and to acquaint the Chevalier de Gramont with his impatience to see him. This order arrived at the same time as one of the same nature, to the enemy's officers. The Prince de Conde, being informed of this peaceable interview, was not the least surprised at it, when he heard that it was occasioned by the arrival of the Chevalier de Gramont. He only gave Lussan orders to recall the officers, and to request the Chevalier to meet him at the same place the next day; which the Chevalier promised to do, provided Monsieur de Turenne should approve of it, as he made no doubt he would. His reception in the king's army was as agreeable as that which he had experienced from the enemy. Monsieur de Turenne esteemed him no less for his frankness than for his wit. He took it very kindly Cou.\r ^DS cj%j^i^[o.jir. loi that he was the only courtier who had come to see him at so critical a time as the present ; the questions which he asked him about the Court, were not so much for information, as to divert himself with his manner of relating the different apprehensions and alarms. The Chevalier de Gramont advised him to beat the enemy, if he did not desire to be ansv/erable for an enterprise which he had undertaken without consulting the car- dinal. Monsieur de Turenne promised him he would exert himself to the utmost to follow his advice, and assured him, that if he succeeded, he would make the queen keep her word with him. He concluded by saying, that he was not sorry the Prince de Condd had expressed a desire to see the Chevalier. His measures were taken for an attack upon the lines : on this subject he discoursed in private with the Chevalier de Gramont, and concealed nothing from him except the time of execution ; but his secrecy in this last respect was to no purpose, for the Chevalier had seen too much, not to judge, from his own knowledge, and the observations he had made, that in the situation of the army, the attack could be no longer deferred. He set out the next day for his rendezvous, attended by a trumpeter, and found the prince at the place which Monsieur de Lussan had described to him the evening before. As soon as he alighted, " Is it possible," said the prince, embracing him, " that this can be the Chevalier de Gramont, and that I should see him in the contrary party .' " " It is you, my lord, whom I see there," replied the Chevalier, " and I refer it to yourself, whether it be the 102 oTim^WI'BJi OF THE fault of the Chevalier de Gramont, or your own, that we now embrace different interests." " I must confess," said the prince, " that if there are some who have abandoned me like base, ungrateful wretches, you left me, as I myself left, like a man of honour, who thinks himself in the right. But let us forget all cause of resentment, and tell me what was your motive for coming here, you, whom I thought at Peronne with the Court." " Must I tell you .'' " said the Chevalier ; " why, faith then, I came to save your life. I know that you cannot help being in the midst of the enemy in a day of battle ; it is only necessary for your horse to be shot under you, and for you to be taken in arms, to meet with the same treatment from this cardinal, as your uncle Mont- morency^^ did from the other. I come, therefore, to hold a horse in readiness for you, in case of a similar misfortune, that you may not lose your head." " It would not be the first occasion," observed the prince, smiling, " that you have rendered me this service, though the being taken prisoner at that time could not have been so dangerous to me as now." From this conversation, they passed to more enter- taining subjects. The prince asked him many questions concerning the Court, the ladies, play, and his amours ; and the Chevalier, returning insensibly to the present situation of affairs, having inquired after some officers of his acquaintance, who had remained with the prince, " Henry, Duke de Montmorency, who was taken prisoner Sept. i, 1632, and had his head struck off at Toulouse in the month of November follow- ing. See the note upon the lovers of Anne of Austria, p. 109, post. Couoij 'Ds Cj's^u^roJiT. 103 the latter told him that if he chose, he might go to the lines, where he would have an opportunity of seeing not only those whom he inquired after, but likewise the disposition of the quarters and entrenchments. To this the Chevalier consented, and the prince, having shewn him all the works, and attended him back to their rendezvous, said : " Well, Chevalier, when do you think we shall see you again ? " " Upon my word," replied he, " you have used me so handsomely, that I shall conceal nothing from you. Hold yourself in readiness at an hour before daybreak ; for, you may depend upon it, we shall attack you to- morrow morning. I would not have acquainted you with this, perhaps, had I been intrusted with the secret : but, nevertheless, in the present case you may believe me." " You are still the same man," said the prince, again embracing him. The Chevalier returned to Monsieur de Turenne's camp towards night : every preparation was then being made for the attack of the lines, and it was no longer a secret among the troops. " Well, Monsieur le Chevalier, were they all very glad to see you } " said Monsieur de Turenne : " the prince, no doubt, received you with the greatest kindness, and asked a great number of questions." " He shewed me all the civility imaginable," replied the Chevalier, " and, to convince me that he did not take me for a spy, he led me round the lines and entrench- ments, and shewed me the preparations he had made for your reception." 104 •yilS^mi-^.S OF THE " And what is his opinion ? " asked the marshal. " He is persuaded that you will attack him to-night, or to-morrow just before daybreak ; for you great captains," continued the Chevalier, " see through each other's designs in a wonderful manner." Monsieur de Turenne received with pleasure this commendation from a man who was not accustomed to bestow praise indiscriminately. He communicated to him the disposition of the attack ; and at the same time informed him, he was very happy that a man who had seen so many actions was to be present at this one, and esteemed it no small advantage to have the benefit of his advice. However, as the marshal believed that the re- maining part of the night would hardly suffice for the Chevalier's repose, since he had passed the preceding one without sleep, he left him with the Marquis d'Humieres, who provided him with a supper and a lodging. The next day the linesof Arras were attacked, wherein Monsieur de Turenne, being victorious, added additional lustre to his former glory ; while the Prince de Conde, although vanquished, lost nothing of the reputation he had acquired elsewhere. There are so many accounts of this celebrated battle, that to speak of it here would be altogether superfluous.^^ 1- Voltaire observes, thai it was the fortune of Turenne and Conde to be always victorious when they fought at the head of the French, and to be vanquished when they commanded the Spaniards. This was Conde's fate before Arras, Aug. 25, 1654, when he and the archduke besieged that city. Turenne attacked them in their camp, and forced their lines ; the troops of the archduke were cut to pieces, and Conde, with two regiments of French and Lorrainers, alone sustained the efforts of Turenne's army. While the archduke was Hying, Conde defeated the Marshal de Ilocquincourt, repulsed the Marshal de la Ferte, and retreated victoriously himself, by covering the retreat of the vanquished .Spaniards. The King COU.XT 1>S gi{yicPlf03iT. 105 The Chevalier de Gramont, who, as a volunteer, was permitted to go everywhere, has given a better descrip- tion of it than any other person. The royal army reaped great advantages from the activity which never forsook the Chevalier either in peace orwar,and from the presence of mind which enabled him to carry orders, as coming from the general, so very a-propos, that Monsieur de Turenne, otherwise most particular in such matters, thanked him, when the battle was over, in the presence of all his officers, and commissioned him to convey the first news of his success to Court. All that is generally necessary in these expeditions is to be accustomed to hard riding, and to be well pro- vided with fresh horses : but the Chevalier had many other obstacles to surmount. In the first place, parties of the enemy were dispersed over all the country, and obstructed his passage. Then he had to prepare against greedy and officious courtiers, who, on such occasions, post themselves on the roads, in order to cheat the poor courier out of his news. However, his address preserved him from the one, and deceived the others. He had taken eight or ten troopers, commanded by an officer of his acquaintance, to escort him half-way to Bapaume ; ^^ being persuaded that the greatest danger would lie between the camp and the first stage. He had not proceeded a league before he was convinced of of Spain's letter to him after this engagement, had these words : "I have been informed that everything was lost, and that you have recovered everything." " A fortified town in Avlois, situated in a barren district devoid both of rivers and springs, and having an old palace, which gave rise to the town, with a particular governor of its own, and a royal and a forest court. In 1641 the French took it from the Spaniards. lo5 o^/"£c,^f075^5 OF THE the truth of what he suspected, and turning to the officer, who followed him closely, " If you are not well mounted," said he, " I would advise you to return to the camp ; for my part I shall set spurs to my horse, and make the best of my way." " Sir," replied the officer, " I hope I shaU be able to keep you company, at whatever rate you go, until you are out of all danger." " I doubt that," remarked the Chevalier, " for those gentlemen whom I observe there seem prepared to pay us a visit." " Don't you see," said the officer, " that they are some of our own people who are grazing their horses .'' " " No," said the Chevalier ; " I see very well that they are some of the enemy's Cravates." ** Upon which, observing to the officer that they were mounting, he ordered the horsemen that escorted him to disperse so as to make a diversion, and he himself set off at full speed towards Bapaume. He was mounted upon a very swift English horse ; but having entangled himself in a hollow way where the ground was soft and miry, he soon had the Cravates at his heels, for suspecting him to be some officer of rank, they had not been deceived, but had continued to pursue him without paying any atten- tion to the others. The best mounted of the party began to draw near him ; for English horses, swift as the wind on even ground, proceed but very indifferently on bad '■i i.e., Croats, light cavalry who were badly disciplined and very eager for pillage. In the eighteenth century the French army still comprised a regiment called the " Royal Cravates." According to some authorities, we have derived our modern word "cravat " from the neckcloths worn by these soldiers. Ill ,,L I i 1 fl, COU.\T 1)6 g%,^l.-J]fO.XT. 107 roads. The Cravate presented his carbine, and cried out to him, at some distance — " Good quarter ! " The Chevaher de Gramont, who perceived that they were gaining upon him, and that ^vhatever efforts his horse made in such heavy ground, he must be overtaken at last, immediately quitted the road to Bapaume, and took a causeway to the left, which led in quite a different direction. As soon as he had gained it, he drew up, as if to listen to the proposal of the Cravate, which afforded his horse an opportunity of recovering himself; while his enemy, mistaking his intention, and thinking that he only waited to surrender, immediately exerted every effort, almost killing his horse, so that he might take him before the arrival of his companions, who were following one after the other. One minute's reflection made the Chevalier consider what a disagreeable adventure it would be, thus coming from so glorious a victory, and the dangers of a battle so warmly disputed, to be taken by a set of scoundrels who had not been in it, and, instead of being received in triumph, and embraced by a great queen for the im- portant news with which he was charged, to see himself stripped by the vanquished. During this short meditation, the Cravate who followed him had arrived within shot, and still presenting his carbine, offered him good quarter : but the Chevaher de Gramont, to whom this offer, and the manner in which it was made, were equally displeasing, made a sign to him to lower his piece ; and perceiving his horse to be in wind, he lowered his hand, rode off like lightning, and I08 ^lfe.i.TrOI-T{S OF THE left the Cravate in such astonishment that he even forgot to fire at him. As soon as he arrived at Bapaume, he changed horses : the commander of the fortress here showed him the greatest respect, assuring him that nobody had yet passed ; that he would keep the secret, and detain all who followed him, except the couriers of Monsieur de Turenne. The Chevalier now had only to guard against those who would be watching for him in the neighbourhood of Peronne, to return as soon as they saw him, and carry his news to Court, without even knowing what it was. He was very well aware that Marshal du Plessis, Marshal de Villeroy and Gaboury, had boasted of this to the cardinal before his departure. Accordingly, to elude this snare, he took two well-mounted horsemen at Bapaume, and as soon as he had got a league from that place, after giving them each two louis d'or, to secure their fidelity, he ordered them to ride on before, to appear very terrified, and to tell all those who might ask them any questions, " That all was lost ; that the Chevalier de Gramont had stopped at Bapaume, having no great inclination to be the messenger of ill news ; and that as for them.selves, they had been pursued by the enemy's troopers, who were spread over the whole country since the defeat." Everything succeeded to his wish : the horsemen were intercepted by Gaboury, who in his eagerness had out- stripped the two marshals ; but whatever questions were asked them, they acted their parts so well, that Peronne was already in consternation, and rumours of a defeat I . , y.^ \ h Ls COU-XT DB G-\.A-'t[0\J. 109 were being whispered among the courtiers, when the Chevaher de Gramont arrived. Nothing so much enhances the vahie of good news as a previous false alarm of bad tidings ; yet, although the Chevalier's news was accompanied by this advantage, none but their majesties received it with the transports of joy it deserved. The queen kept her promise to him in the most gracious manner : she embraced him before the whole Court ^'; the king appeared no less delighted; but the cardinal, whether with the view of lessening the merit of an action which deserved a handsome reward, or whether from a return of that insolence which always ^'' Anne of Austria, who conferred so unusual a mark of favour upon the Chevaher de Gramont, is credited with having had a troop of lovers. Henry II., Duke de Montmorency, declared himself her knight, and when he was captured at Castelnaudary, after his rebellion, the queen's portrait was found upon him. Loais XIII., saysVittorio .Siri (Meniovie Recondite., vol. vii. ), was so enraged at this that he proved inflexible when petitioned to spare the duke's hfe. The memoirs and pamphlets of the time number also Rene, Marquis de Jarz.iy, Rene d'Esguilly-Vasse, and Roger, Duke de Bellegarde, among the queen's lovers. M. de Bellegarde employed Malherbe to write verses to express his passion — a proceeding which Voiture satirised. In one of his couplets Voiture mentions that " Roger's star no longer shines at the Louvre ; it is said to have been eclipsed by that of a shepherd who has arrived from Dover." The shepherd here alluded to was George Villiers, the first Duke of Buckingham of that name, who had come to France to fetch the Princess Henrietta Maria, then engaged to Charles I. On this occasion Buckingham paid such great attention to Anne of Austria, that Cardinal de Richelieu did his utmost to hasten his return. The queen, however, accompanied him and the princess on their journey to the coast. The great scandal, says Tallemant des Reaux in his Historiettes, occurred at Amiens, "where Buckingham re- mained alone with the queen in a garden ; at least, the only person with them was a Madame du Vernet, lady-in-waiting to the queen, and sister of the late M. de Luynes, and she was in the plot, and kept at some distance. The duke threw the queen down and scratched her thighs with his emV)roidered hose ; however, it was all in vain." Anne of Austria's pet vice was gluttony : she took four heavy meals every day, and the corpulence which resulted from these excesses de- stroyed most of her beauty. Madame de Motteville says, however, that in her old age she still had a delicate complexion, fine arms and hands, and a plentiful head of hair. no '•_nT£-^niOI1{} OF THE accompanied liim in prosperity', appeared at first not to pay any attention to what he said, and being afterwards informed that the lines had been forced, that the Spanish army was beaten, and Arras reheved, he enquired, " Is the Prince dc Conde taken ? " " No," replied the Chevalier do Gramont. " He is dead, then, I suppose ? " said the cardinal. " By no means," answered the Chevalier. " Fine news indeed ! " exclaimed the cardinal, with an air of contempt ; and at these \\ords he went into the queen's cabinet with their majesties, This was fortunate for the Chevalier, who without doubt would have given him some violent reply, i*" in resentment for those two fine questions, and the con- clusion he had drawn from them. The Court was filled with his eminence's spies : the Chevalier, as is usual upon such an occasion, was sur- rounded by a crowd of courtiers and inquisitive people, and he was very glad to say, within hearing of the cardinal's creatures, a part of what he had upon his mind, the same which he would perhaps have told Mazarin to his face. " Faith, gentlemen," said he, with a sneer, " there is nothing like being zealous and eager in the service of kings and great princes ; you saw what a gracious reception his majesty gave me ; you likewise witnessed i''' This spirit docs not seem always to have actuated Gramont in his relations with the cardinal, as we learn from a letter of Madame de IVIain- tenon that on the king's entry into Paris in 1660, "the Chevalier de Gramont, with Rouville, Belkfonds, and other courtiers, attended in the cardinal's suite, a degree of flattery which astonished everybody who knew him. I was informed that the chevalier Avore a very rich oiange-colourcd dress on the occasion." in what an obliging manner the queen kept her promise with me ; but as for the cardinal, he received my news as if he gained no more by it than he did by the death of Peter Mazarin.''^^ This was sufficient to terrify all those who were sincerely attached to him ; and the best-established fortune would have been ruined at another period by a far less cutting jest : for it was made in the presence of witnesses, who were only desirous of having an opportunity of representing it in its utmost malignancy, to make a merit of their vigilance with a powerful and absolute minister. Of this the Chevalier de Gramont was thoroughly convinced ; yet whatever detriment he foresaw might arise from it, he could not help being pleased with what he said. The tale-bearers very faithfully discharged their duty, but the affair took a very different turn from what they had expected. The next day, when the Chevalier de Gramont was present while their majesties were at dinner, the cardinal came in, and approached him, every body making way for him out of respect. " Chevalier," said he, " the news which you have brought is very good, their majesties are very well satisfied with it ; and to convince you that in my belief I gain more by it than I gained by the death of Peter Mazarin, if you will come and dine with me we will have some play together ; for the queen will give us something to play for, over and above her first promise." 1? Peter Mazarin was the cardinal's father. He Was a native of Palermo in Sicily, which place he left in order to settle at Rome, where he died in great poverty in 1654, shortly before the events here referred to, and years after his famous son had secured both power and wealth. 112 ^:^[e.-siror-i(.s of the In this manner did tlie Chevalier de Gramont dare to provoke so powerful a minister, and this was all the resentment which the least vindictive of all statesmen expressed on the occasion. There was really something grand in so young a man only reverencing the authority of ministers provided that they themselves were respect- able by their merit : for this, he praised himself and was praised by the whole Court ; and he allowed himself to be agreeably flattered as being the only man who durst preserve the least shadow of liberty, in a general state of servitude. But it was perhaps owing to the impunity that attended this insult to the cardinal, that he after- wards drew upon himself some worries, by other rash expressions less fortunately risked. However, the Court returned. The cardinal, who was sensible that he could no longer keep his master in a state of tutelage — being himself worn out with cares and sickness, having amassed treasures he knew not what to do with, and being sufficiently loaded with the weight of public odium — turned all his thoughts towards terminat- ing, as advantageously as was possible for France, a ministry which had so cruelly convulsed the kingdom. Thus, while he was earnestly laying the foundations of an ardently desired peace, pleasure and plenty began to reign at Court. The Chevalier de Gramcnt experienced for a long timea variety of fortune in love and gaming. Es'.eemed by the courtiers, sought after by beauties whom he neglected, a formidable suitor to those whom he courted, more successful in play than in his amours, but the former compensating him for any want of success in the latter Cou:\T -ve g^yU^Wiyj. 113 he was always full of life and spirits, and, in all transac- tions of importance, invariably a man of honour. It is a pity that it should be necessary here to interrupt the course of his history, by an interval of some years, as has been already done at the commencement of these memoirs : occasion for regret is furnished by any blank in a life of which the slightest circumstances have always been singular and diverting ; but whether he did not think them worthy of holding a place among his other adventures, or only preserved a confused idea of them, we must pass to the parts of these fragments which are better ascertained, that we may arrive at the subject of his journey to England. The peace of the Pyrenees,^'^ the king's marriage,^'-" the return of the Prince de Conde, and the death of the cardinal, gave a new face to the state. "° The eyes '■'' This treaty was concluded Nov. 7, 1659. " Louis XIV. with Maria Theresa of Austria, who was born Sept. 20, 163S, married June i, 1660, and entered Paris on Aug. 26 following. It is related of the Chevalier de Gramont's step-brother, iJuke Anthony III., that he was charged by Louis XIV. with the commission of asking Philip IV. of Spain for the hand of his daughter, Maria Theresa. The duke started off post haste, and on reaching Madrid rode at once to the palace, and although dusty, booted and spurred, demanded to enter the king's presence. Philip, greatly struck by the duke's eagerness, received him forthwith, and gave his consent to his daughter's marriage with the French king. -" Cardinal Mazarin died at Vincennes on March 9, i65i, aged fifty- nine years. On his death, Louis XIV. and the Court appeared in mourn- ing — an uncommon honour, shown, however, by Henry IV. to the memorj of Gabrielle d'Estrees. Mazarin's insatiable cupidity is well known : the fortune he left behind him was enormous. Lie at first offered his entire property to the king, but the latter refusing it, it mainly went at his death to M. de La Meilleraye, the husband of Hortensia Mancini, Mazarin's niece. La Meilleraye, who was created Duke Mazarin, although well read, and a man of the brightest wit, was a fanatic in religious matters and a lunatic in other respects. lie caused the finest statues to be muti- lated, and had the fairest pictures bedaubed, and even forbade the women on his estates to milk cows for fear of such an employment suggesting bad thoughts. He squandered much of the inheritance derived from the 114 rMS.-,'\IOI-\S OF THE of the whole nation were fixed upon the king, who, for nobleness of mien, and gracefulness of person, had no equal ; but it was not then known that he was possessed of those superior abilities, which, filling his subjects with admiration, in the end made him so formidable to Europe. Love and ambition, the invisible springs of the intrigues and cabals of all Courts, attentively observed his first steps : pleasure promised herself an absolute empire over a prince who had been kept in ignorance of the necessary rules of government, and ambition had no hopes of reigning at Court except in the minds of those who were able to dispute the management of afi'airs. However, men were surprised to see the king suddenly display brilliant abilities, which prudence, in some measure necessary, had so long induced him to conceal. An application, inimical to the pleasures which generally offer themselves at that age, and which un- limited power \-ery seldom refuses, attached him solely to the cares of government. All admired this wonderful change, but all did not find their account in it: the great became small in presence of an absolute master ; and it was with reverential awe that the courtiers approached cardinal on monks, bigots, and hypocrites, and in connection with his par- ticular religious ideas. He is known to have received in money, land, and reversions of benefices and state ofificcs, a fortune of sixteen millions of livres, which may be regarded as equivalent to upwards of a million and a half sterling at the present day. The Abbe dc Cholsy states that Car- dinal Mazarin left in addition, from fifteen to twenty millions of livres deposited in the various fortresses of which he had the command ; and Fou- quet, in his Memoirs (Paris, 1696, vol. v., p. 18), estimates the cardinal's entire fortune at between forty and fifty millions of livres. Mazarin was the belter able to accumulate such vast wealth, as he was in receipt of the reve- nues of thirty of the richest abbeys in France. His will and the codicils appended to it are given in the (F.jivres de Louis XIV., vol vi., p. 292. Cou-XT T)S g%A-yiro:xr. 115 the sole object of their respect, and the sole master of their fortunes. Those who had formerly conducted them- selves like petty tyrants in their provinces, and in the frontier fortresses, were now no more than governors : favours, according to the king's pleasure, were some- times conferred for merit, and sometimes for services ; but to importune, or to menace the Court, was no longer the method to obtain them, The Chevalier de Gramont regarded his master's at- tention to affairs of state as a prodigy : he could not conceive how the king could submit, at his age, to the rules he prescribed for himself, or that he should give up so many hours of pleasure, to devote them to the wearisome duties, and fatiguing functions of govern- ment ; but he blessed the Lord that henceforward no more homage had to be paid, no more court to be made, but to him, to whom they were justly due. Dis daining as he did the servile adoration usually paid to a minister, he had never crouched before the power of the two cardinals who succeeded each other ; he had neither worshipped the arbitrary power of the one, nor given his approbation to the artifices of the other ; on the other hand, he had never received any thing from Cardinal de Richelieu but an abbey, which, on account of his rank, could not be refused him ; and he had never acquired anything from Mazarin but what he won of him at play. By many years' experience under an able general he had acquired a talent for war ; but of this, during a general peace, there could be no question : he therefore thought that, in the midst of a Court flourishing in beauties, and abounding in wealth, he ought only to 1 2 Il6 -IfginroZ-T^S OF THE employ himself in endeavouring to gain the good opinion of his master, in making the best use of those advantages which nature had given him for play, and in putting in practice new stratagems in love. He succeeded very well in the two first of these projects, and as he had from that time laid it down as the rule of his conduct, to attach himself solely to the king in all his views of preferment, to have no regard for favour unless it was supported by merit, to make himself beloved by the courtiers, and feared by the ministers, to dare to undertake any thing in order to render a service, and to engage in nothing at the expense of innocence, he soon became a participator in the king's pleasures, without exciting the envy of the courtiers. In play he was successful, in love unfortunate; or, to speak more properly, his restlessness and jealousy overcame his natural prudence, on an occasion when he had most need of it. La Motte Houdancourt was one of the maids of honour to the queen-dowager, and, although no con- spicuous beauty, she had drawn away lovers from the celebrated Meneville.-^ It was sufficient in those days -' Catherine de Meneville, one of the queen -mother's maids of honour, was a great lieauty. Fran^ois-Christophe de Levis, Count de Brion and Duke de Damville, had given her in 1657 a written promise of marriage, which he did not keep owing to the opposition of his mother, the Duchess de Ventadour, although he was fifty years old at the time. Meanwhile, Mademoiselle de Aleneville secretly bestowed her favours on Fouquet, the financier, who promised her fifty thousand crowns. The duke, having a suspicion of this intrigue, then offered Mademoiselle de Meneville a pecuniary indemnity in lieu of marriage — a proposal which did not suit the lady, as she aspired to become a duchess. Before anything was settled, however, M. de Damville died (in i56i), and shortly afterwards Fouquet was disgraced and imj^risoned. Mademoiselle de Meneville thus lost both the husband she coveted and the financier's promised gift, and became the laughing-stock of all who knew her. Madame de la F'ayette even Cou^T 1)8 g\■A•J^lro^iT. m for the king to cast his eye upon a young lady of the Court to inspire her with hopes, and often with tender sentiments ; but if he spoke to her more than once, the courtiers took it for granted, and those who had either pretensions to, or love for her, humbly withdrew both the one and the other, and only paid her respect. However, the Chevalier de Gramont thought fit to act otherwise, perhaps to preserve a singularity of character, which upon the present occasion was quite out of place. He had never before thought of her ; but as soon as he found that she was honoured with the king's attention, he was of opinion that she was likewise deserving of his own, and having put himself forward, he soon became very troublesome, without convincing her that he was deeply in love. She grew weary of his persecutions ; but neither her ill-treatment, nor her threats, made him desist. This conduct of his at first made no great stir, because she was in hopes that he would change his behaviour ; but finding him rashly persist in it, she complained of him : and then it was he perceived that if love renders all conditions equal, it is asserts that La Meneville was forbidden to come to Court, and retired to a convent, where she took the veil. Conrart's manuscripts contain a copy of the duke's promise of marriage, and also some love letters written by Mademoiselle de Bleneville to Fouquet. In one of these she says, " I am easily consoled for the fact that you did not visit me privately before you went to Brest, for I think such a visit might have been hurtful to your health ; and I even fear that the great violence which carried you away the last time contributed to your illness." Several scandalous songs of the period refer to Mademoi- selle de Meneville, and one of them severely criticises certain of her charms. Her amours with the Duke de Damville are alluded to in a well- known hymn, which Bussy, Vivonne, and others are said to have impro- vised during a drunken orgy, one verse stating that any child she might give birth to would never be the duke's son. iiS dnrSi-'ifoi-T^s of the cou.\jt 1)8 g%u^iro\r. not so between rivals.- He was banished the Court, and not finding any place in France which could console him for what he most regretted, the presence and sight of his master, after having made some slight reflections upon his disgrace, and bestowed a few imprecations upon her who was the cause of it, he at last formed the resolution of visiting England. -" The lady wlio was ihe caiihc of the Chevalier's banishment, Anne Lucy cle la Motte, or Mothe-Hoiulancourt, niece of the marshal of that name, is often confounded with Mademoiselle de la Mothe-Argencourt, mistress of the Marquis de Richelieu. Both ladies attracted the attention of Louis XIV. whilst he \\as young ; and subsequently the cabal of the Countess de .Soissons sought to influence the king in favour of Mademoi- selle de la ^Nlotte-Houdancourt, when his attentions were divided between her and Mademoiselle de la X'alliere. Madame de Motteville says: "It was at the beginning of 1662 that the king began to show an inclination for Mademoiselle de la Motte-Houdancourt, one of the queen's maids. I do not know whether in his heart he placed her below Mademoiselle de la Valliere, but I do know that she caused many changes at Court, rather by her intriguing than her beauty, though site «as beautiful enough to inspire a great passion." At St. Germain-en-Laye the king was not allowed to enter the apart- ments of the maids of honour, says M. P. Boiteau, in his notes to the Histoirc Aiiioureiise des Gaiiks, and in order to chat with Mademoiselle de la Motte he passed by way of the chimneys, whereupon the Duchess de Navailles, mistress of the maids, had a grating placed, intercepting the passage, and thus drew upon herself the king's resentment and brought about her own dismissal. Whilst" the favoured beauty was resisting the king's advances, .Mademoiselle de la Valliere gave way, and Mademoiselle de .'\Iontpensier relates in her memoirs that one day, on the king pre- senting Mademoiselle de la Motte with a pair of diamond earrings, she flung them in his face, saying, "I neither care for you nor for your ear- rings, since you will not quit lla Valliere." The Marquis de Sourches (Meiiioires, vol. i., p. 233) describes Mademoi- selle de la Motte-IIoudancourt as a perfect beauty, and says that the Duke de la Feuillade arranged the marriage between her and the Marquis de la Vieuville, whose father was chevalier d'honneiir to the queen and governor of Poitou. By this marriage the son obtained the reversion of both these offices. CHAPTER V. The Chevalier's visits to London under the Commonwealth and at the Restoration — Marriage of Charles II. and Catherine of Braganza — The King and the Duke of York — The heroes and the beauties of the English Court — Queen Catherine and her Portuguese suite — The Chevalier's reception in England — Saint-Evremond gives him advice — Gramont lays siege to Mrs. Middleton and Miss Warmester — Rivalry between Miss Stewart a?id Lady Castlemaine — The latter'' s intrigue with Jacob Hall — Lady Shrewsbury and her lovers — Duel beticeen Henry Jenny n and Thomas Howard — The Chevalier falls in love with Miss Hamilton. URIOSITY to see a man equally famous for his crimes and his elevation, had already once before induced the Che- valier de Gramont to visit England Reasons of state assume great privi- leges : whatever appears advantageous is lawful ; and everything 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 W/ ^^ #i n ^ m a & m 120 'J]fe<^WI-T{.\ OF THE sovereign power by great crimes, maintained himself in it by accomplishments the brilliancy of which seemed to render him worthy of it. The least submissive nation of all Europe patiently bore a yoke which did not even leave her the shadow of the 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 the Chevalier de Gramont saw him ; however, the Chevalier did not see any appearance of a Court. One part of the nobility was proscribed, the other removed from employment ; there was an affected purity of manners, instead of the luxury which the pomp of Courts displays, and thus only sad and serious sights were offered by the finest city in the world. The Chevalier acquired nothing by this journey, but the idea of a scoundrel's merits, together with a feeling of admiration for some hidden beauties whom he had found a means to discover. Matters were very different on the occasion of his second voyage. Joy for the restoration of the royal family was still manifest everywhere : the nation, fond of change and novelty, tasted the pleasure of having 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 pos- terity of their lawful sovereign, exhausted themselves in festivals and rejoicings for his return.^ 1 Burnet confirms Hamilton's statement : — " With the restoration of the king," says he, " a spirit of extravagant joy spread over the nation, that brought on with it the throwing off the very professions of virtue and piety. All ended in entertainments and drunkenness, which overran the COU:\T 'i)g 1 Cou.\r i)£ g^A^i[o:\T 147 It was between these two goddesses that the incli- nations of the ChcvaHer de Gramont wavered, and between them that 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 these were to be met with of the best sort in London, and the ladies were as well pleased with them as if they had come from abroad. Miss Stewart's beauty began at this time to create a stir. The Countess of Castlemaine perceived that the king paid attention to her ; ^^ but, instead of being alarmed at it, she favoured, as far as she was able, this ^ Frances, daughter of Waller Stewart, son of Walter, Baron of Blan- tyre. Rothier, engineer to the royal mint, executed a medal of her, extolled as exhibiting " the finest face that perhaps was ever seen." Miss Stewart served, too, as model for the figure of Britannia on the copper coins, and thus her face and form became more \\'idely known than those of any other beauty that ever lived. Pepys was charmed with Miss .Stewart, and says of her (July 13th, 1663) : "With her hat cocked and a red plume, with her sweet eye, little Roman nose, and excellent faille, Mrs. Stewart is now the greatest beauty I ever saw I think in my life ; and if ever woman can, do exceed my Lady Castlemaine : nor do I wonder if the king changes, which I verily believe is the reason of his coldness to my Lady Castlemaine." Again, on Nov. 6, 1663, he notes, on the authority of the Earl of Sandwich, that the Earl of Arlington, the Duke and Duchess of Buckingham, and Mr. Edward Montagu, were of " a committee with somebody else for the getting of Mrs. Stewart for the king, but that she proves a cunning slut." Pepys tells us, however, that it was reported at the time that Mrs. .Stewart was " now a common mistress to the king, as my Lady Castlemaine is," which Pepys thinks "a great pity." If "Miss Stewart had not much to say for herself, she had, according to Lord Clarendon, this great merit — " She was never known," he says, " to speak ill of anyone. " With reference to Pepys bestowing on Miss Stewart the prefix of" Mrs.," it may be remarked that it was then the invariable practice to give this title to all unmarried ladies, the term " Miss " being at that time applied only to notoriously frail members of the se.x. 148 c-ire^lWIl^S OF THE new inclination, whether by an imprudence common to all those who think themselves superior to others, or whether she designed, by this pastime, to divert the king's attention from the commerce which she held with Jermyn. She was not satisfied with showing no uneasi- ness as to a preference which all the Court began to remark : she even affected to make Miss Stewart her favourite, invited her to all the suppers she gave to the king, and, confident in her own charms, carried temerity to its utmost limit by often keeping her to sleep. The king, who seldom neglected to visit the countess before she rose, in a like manner seldom failed to find Miss Stewart in bed with her.^^ The most indifferent objects have charms in a new attachment ; however, the im- prudent countess was not jealous of this rival appearing with her in such a situation, being confident that, when- ever she thought fit, she could triumph over all the advantages \\'hich these opportunities might afford Miss Stewart. Matters turned out very differently, however. The Chevalier de Gramont took notice of this conduct, without being able to comprehend it ; but, as he was attentive to the inclinations of the king, he began to make his court to him by enhancing the merit of this new mistress. Her person was more showy than en- gaging : it was hardly possible for a woman to have less ■'"' This was quite in keeping with the customs of the times. In France, for instance, Rladame de Maintenon slept with Ninon de I'Enclos, and Tallemant des Reaux describes Madame de Langey taking Madame Lecocq's daughter to bed with her. (Historicttes, 1840, vok x. , p. 197.) The husband or lover, as the case might be, was by no means driven away by this arrangement. A much stranger practice was that of Louis XIII., who after Mademoiselle de Montbazon had married the handsome Constable de Luynes frequently came and shared their bed with them. See M. P. Boiteau's notes to the Histoiie Anioureiise des Ganles. ///'■•v/A/.. n :, o qi-id it jb a d jrv "'.V' ii^ I .e, t COUOiJ "DB g%,A^[0:\T. 149 wit, or more beauty. All her features were fine and regular, but such was not the case with her figure. Still she was slender, straight enough, and taller than the generality of women ; she was graceful, danced well,^'' and spoke French better than her mother tongue ; she was well bred, and possessed, in perfection, that art of displaying her toilette to advantage, which is so much admired, and which cannot be attained, unless it be acquired when young, in France. While her charms were gaining ground in the king's heart, the Countess of Castlemaine amused herself with the gratification of all her caprices. Mrs. Hyde'^ figured prominently among the beauties who were prejudiced with a blind prepossession in favour of Jermyn : she had just married a man whom she had loved, and by this marriage she became sister-in-law to the duchess. Although she shone by her natural lustre, and was full of qualities and wit, she was of opinion that so long as she was not talked of on account of Jermyn, all her other advantages would avail nothing for her glory ; it was, therefore, to add this finishing stroke, that she resolved to throw herself into his arms. She was of a middle size, had a skin of dazzling white- ness, fine hands, and a foot surprisingly beautiful, even in England : long custom had given such a languishing ■''' Pepys speaking of a ball at Court says, "It was indeed a glorious sight to see Mrs. Stewart in black and white lace, and her head and shoulders dressed with diamonds. . . . She danced mighty finely, and many French dances, especially one the king called the new dance, which was very pretty. . . . INIethought her the beautifuUest creature that I ever saw in my life, more than ever I thought her, so often as I have seen her, and I do begin to think do exceed my Lady Castlemaine, at least now." •" Theodosia, daughter of Arthur, Lord Capel, first wife of Henry Hyde, the second Earl of Clarendon, and sister-in-law of the Duchess of York. 15° cyifS^fOI^S OF THE tenderness to her looks, that she never opened her eyes but hke a Chinese ; and, when she ogled, one would have thought she was doing something else as well. Jermyn accepted of her at first ; but, being soon puzzled what to do with her, he thought fit to sacrifice her to Lady Castlemaine. The sacrifice was far from being displeasing to the latter : it was much to her glory to have carried off Jermyn from so many com- petitors ; but it proved of no consequence in the end. Jacob Hall, the famous rope-dancer, was at that time in vogue in London : his strength and disposition charmed Lady Castlemaine in public, even to a wish to know what he was in private ; for he appeared, in his tumbling dress, to be quite of a different make, and to have very different legs to the fortunate Jermyn. The tumbler did not deceive Lady Castlemaine in her surmises, if those of the public may be believed, and as was intimated in many a song, far more to the honour of the rope-dancer than of the countess ; but she de- spised all these rumours, and only appeared still more handsome."'' While satire thus found employment at her cost, there were continual contests for the favours of another '' " There was a symmetry and elegance, as well as strength and agility, in the person of Jacob Hall, which was much admired by the ladies, who regarded him as a due composition of Hercules and Adonis. The open- hearted Castlemaine was said to have been in love with this rope-dancer and Goodman the player at the same time. Tlie former received a salary from her." — Gi-anger, vol. ii. part ii. p. 461. Pepys, "v^'riting under date Sep. 21, i668, mentions visiting .Southwark fair, and witnessing "Jacob Hall's dancing on the ropes, where I saw such action as I never saw before, and mightily worth seeing ; and here took acquaint- ance with a fellow who carried me to a tavern whither came the music of this booth, and by and bye Jacob Hall himself, with whom I had a mind to speak, to hear whether he had ever any mischief by falls in his time. Couxf Tis g%^^'[03{r. 151 beauty, who was not much more niggardly in that way than herself: this was the Countess of Shrewsbury. The Earl of Arran, who had been one of her first admirers, was not one of the last to desert her. This beauty, less famous for her conquests, than for the misfortunes she occasioned, placed her greatest merits in being more frisky than any other. As no person could boast of having been the only one in her favour, so none could complain of having been ill received by her.'*" Jermyn was displeased that she had made no advances to him, without considering that she had had no leisure to do so ; his pride was offended, but the attempt which he made to take her from her other lovers was very ill advised. Thomas Howard, **i brother to the Earl of Carlisle, was one of them : there was not a braver, nor a better built man, in England ; and though he was of a cold demeanour, and his manners appeared gentle and pacific, no person was more spirited, or more passionate. He told me, ' Yes, many, but never to the breaking of a limb.' He seems a mighty strong man. " — Diary. The salacious countess's connection with the Herculean rope-dancer is thus mentioned in Pope's " Sober advice from Horace" : — " What pushed poor E s on the imperial whore 'Twas but to be where Charles has been before. The fatal steel unjustly was applied, When not his lust offended, but his pride : Too hard a penance for defeated sin — Himself shut out and Jacob Hall let in. " "•" Anna Maria, daughter of Robert, Earl of Cardigan, and wife of Francis, Earl of Shrewsbuiy. After engaging in numerous amours, she became notorious as the mistress of the Duke of Buckingham, for the upshot of her intrigue with whom, see vol. ii., p. 196. ^' Fourth son of Sir William Howard. He married Mary, Duchess of Richmond, daughter of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, and died in 1678. In Collins 's Peerage, the name of the brother of the Earl of Carlisle is stated to have been Charles. 152 ^irs^imixs OF the When Lady Shrewsbury inconsiderately returned the first ogles of the invincible Jermyn, Howard was by no means pleased. That, however, she paid little attention to ; still, as she designed to keep fair with him, she consented to accept an entertainment which he had so often proposed that she durst no longer refuse it. A place called Spring Garden '- was fixed upon for the scene of this entertainment. As soon as the party was settled, Jermyn was privately informed of it. Howard had a company in the regiment of guards, and one of the soldiers of his company played pretty well on the bagpipes. This soldier was at the entertainment. Jermyn came to the garden, as by chance, and, puffed up with his former successes, he assumed his victorious air to complete this last conquest : •'- Spring Garden, the scene of intrigue in many of the comedies of this perii:)d, is referred to as follows by a contemporary writer : " The manner is, as the company returns (from Hyde Park), to alight at the Spring Garden, so called in order to the park, as our Tuiljeries is to the course : the inclosure not disagreeable, for the solemness of the grove, the warbling of the birds, and as it opens into the spacious walks at St. James's ; but the company walk in it at such a rate, you would think all the ladies were so many Atalantas contending with their wooers ; and, my lord, there was no appearance that I should prove Hippomenes, who could with much ado keep pace with them : but fast as they run, they stay there so long as if they wanted not time to finish the race ; for it is usual here to find some of the young company till midnight ; and the thickets of the garden seem to be contrived to all advantages of gallantry, after they have refreshed with the collation, which is here seldom omitted, at a certain cabaret, in the middle of this paradise, where the forbidden fruits are certain trifling tarts, neats' tongues, salicious meats, and bad Rhenish, for wdiich the gallants pay sauce, as indeed they do at all such houses throughout England ; for they think it a piece of frugality beneath them to bargain or account for what they eat in any place, however unreasonably imposed upon." — .4 Character of England as it was presented to a Not'leiuan of France, 1659, p. 56. Pepys notes (July 27, 166S) ; " So over the water to Spring Garden, and there eat and walked ; and observe how rude some of the young gallants of the town are become, to go into people's arbours, when there are not men, and almost force the women. " — Diary. .yir .i/'tt, r <;■ (/■/i ,1 /r.l.i rj COU.Xf T}S g-Ti^i<:.'}W.\T. 153 no sooner had he appeared in the walks, than Lady Shrewsbur}- showed herself upon the balcony. I know not how she found her hero ; but Howard did not fanc}' him. This did not prevent his coming up- stairs, upon the first sign she made to him ; and not content with acting the petty tyrant, at an entertain- ment which was not given for himself, he had no sooner gained the soft looks of the fair one, than he exhausted all his commonplace, and low irony, in railing at the repast, and ridiculing the music. Howard possessed but little raillery, and still less patience, so that three times the banquet was on the point of being stained with blood ; three times however did he suppress his natural impetuosity, in order to satisfy his resentment elsewhere with greater freedom. Jermyn, without paying the least attention to his ill-humour, pursued his point, continued talking to Lady Shrews- bury, and did not leave her until the repast was ended. He went to bed, proud of this triumph, and was awakened next morning by a challenge : he took, for his second, Giles Rawlings, a man of intrigue, and a deep player. Howard took Dillon, who was dexterous and brave, much of a gentleman, and, unfortunately, an intimate friend to Rawlings. In this duel fortune did not side with the favourites of love: poor Rawlings was left stone dead ; and Jermyn, having received three bad thrusts, was carried to his uncle's, giving very slight signs of life.*^ ■13 Pepys has the following nole upon this duel, under date Sept. 19, 1662: "Mr. Coventry did tell us of the duel between Mr. Jermyn, nephew to my Lord St. Albans, and Colonel Giles Rawlins, the latter of whom is killed, and the first mortally wounded as it is thought. They IS4 <:^f£^fOI%S OF THE While the report of this event engaged the courtiers according to their several interests, the Chevalier de Gramont was informed by Jones, his friend, confidant, and rival, that another gentleman was shewing himself very attentive to Mrs. Middlcton. This "was Montagu,"" no very dangerous rival on account of his person, but very much to be feared for his assiduity, the acutcness of his wit, and other talents, whicli are of importance, when a man is permitted to display them. Not half so much was needed to arouse all the Cheva- lier's vivacity, in reference to competition : anxiety awakened in him whatever expedients the desire of revenge, malice, and experience could suggest, for troubling the designs of a rival, and distressing a mistress. His first intention was to return her letters, fought against Captain Thomas Howard, my Lord Carlisle's brother, and another unknown [Dillon], who they say had armour on that they could not be hurt, so that one of their swords went up to the hilt against it. They had horses ready and are fled. But what is most strange, Howard sent one challenge before, but they could not meet till yesterday at the old Pall Mall at St. James's, and he would not to the last tell Jermyn what the quarrel was ; nor do anybody know. The Court is much concerned in this fray, and I am glad of it ; hoping that it will cause some good laws against it." ** Ralph, second son of Edward, Lord ilontagu. He succeeded his elder brother in the post of master of the horse to the queen, and, in 1669, was sent ambassador extraordinary to France ; on his return whence, in Jan. 1672, he was sworn of the privy-council. He afterwards became master of the great wardrobe, and was sent a second time to France. Here he fell in love with the beautiful widowed Countess of Northumberland, sister of Lady Rachel Russell, and married her after a brief courtship. Having returned to England he took a very decided part in the prosecution of the popish plot, in 1678 ; and subsequently entered into a secret engagement with Barrillon, the French Ambassador, to procure, within a given time, for a bribe of a hundred thousand crowns, the overthrow of Lord Treasurer Danby, who had turned against Louis XIV. 's interests. Montagu being in the confidence of the Duke of Monmouth, it was considered politic to go on bribing him until the death of his friend. Lord Russell, when he retired to Montpelicr for the rest of Charles's reign. He was active again at the Revolution, and soon afterwards was created Viscount Monthermer, and Earl of Montagu. In 1705, he became Marquis of Monthermer, and Duke of Montagu. He died in 1709. Couoxj Tis gi{yiawJiT. 155 and demand his presents, before he began to torment her ; but, rejecthig this project, as too petty a revenge for the injustice done him, he was upon the point of conspiring the destruction of poor Mrs. Middleton, when, by accident, he met with Miss Hamilton. From this moment all his resentment against Mrs. Middleton, and all his attachment to Miss Warmester, ended : he no longer was inconstant, his desires no longer fluctuated : this object fixed them all ; and, of all his former habits, none remained, except uneasiness and jealousy. Here his first care was to please ; but he very plainly saw, that to succeed, he must act in quite a different manner to that which he had been accustomed to. The family of the Hamiltons, which was somewhat numerous, lived in a large and commodious house near the Court : the Duke of Ormond's family was continually with them ; persons of the greatest distinction in London met here every day, and the Chevalier de Gramont was received here in a manner agreeable to his merits and rank. He felt astonished that he had spent so much time in other places ; and, after having made this acquaintance, he sought no other. Everybody agreed, that Miss Hamilton was worthy of the most sincere and honourable affection : nobody could boast a nobler birth, and nothing was more charming than her person. '^ ••^ Elizabeth, sister of tlie author of these Memoirs (whose senior she was by five years), and daughter of Sir George Hamilton, fourth son of James, the first Earl of Abercorn, by Mary, daughter of Thomas, Viscount Thurles, eldest son of Walter, eleventh Earl of Ormond, and sister to James, the first Duke of Ormond. Miss Hamilton had numerous aspirants to her hand, among others the Duke of Richmond, the Earl of Arundel, "the invincible Jermyn," the Earl of Falmouth, John Russell, son of the Duke of Bedford, William Russell, nephew of John, and finally the Chevalier de Gramont. "if-t^-v^r^s^-^^rH^s-^^^Kj-r^r- :^-T^>^--y'_^~i;>^!^-^s>'r^y-9>~^>^^ie g'^AdwOMj. 159 pleasure and amusement, especially such as she could be present at herself.^ She had contrived, for this purpose, a gallant masque- rade, at which those, whom she appointed to dance, were to represent different nations. She allowed some time for preparations, during which, as may be believed, the tailors, mantua-makers, and embroiderers were not idle. Nor were the beauties, who were to be present, less anxiously employed ; however, Miss Hamilton found time enough to invent two or three little tricks, the junc- ture being so favourable for turning the more presuming ladies of the Court into ridicule. There were two who were exceedingly presuming : the one was Lady Mus- kerry, who had married her cousin-german ; and the other a maid of honour to the duchess, named Blague. The first,- whose husband most assuredly never married her for her beauty, was made like the generality of rich heiresses, to whom just Nature seems sparing of her gifts, in proportion as they are loaded with those of Fortune. She had the shape of a woman big with child, without being so ; however, she had a very good reason ' "The king and queen were merry, and he would have the queen mother beUeve his queen was with child, and said that she said so. And the young queen answered, ' You lie,' which was the first English word I ever heard her say, which made the king good sport, and he would have made her say in English, 'confess and be hanged.'" — I'eJ>_ys (Sept. 7, 1662). Later on Pepys remarks: "The queen begins to be brisk and play like otiier ladief, and is quite another woman from what she was. It may be it may make the king like her better, and forsake his two mistresses, my Lady Castlemaine and Mrs. Stewart." - Lady Margaret, only child of Ulick, fifth Earl of Clanricarde, by Lady Anne Compton, daughter of William, Earl of Northampton. Spite of her deformities she was three times married : — First to Charles, Viscount Muskerry ; secondly, 1676, to Robert ViUiers, called Viscount Purbeck, who died in 1685 ; and thirdly to Robert Fielding, Esq. She died in August, 1698, in great distress. i6o ^irs^iroj'^s OF the for limping', for of two legs, which were uncommonl)' short, one was much shorter than the other. A face in keeping with all this completed the defects of her figure. ]\Iiss Blague was of another species of ridiculous crea- ture : her figure was neither good nor bad, her counte- nance was extremely insipid, and her complexion was the same all over ; with two little sunken eyes, adorned with light e)-c-lashes, as long as one's finger.^ With these attractions she placed herself in ambush to surprise unwary hearts ; but she might have done so in vain, had it not been for the arrival of the Marquis de Brisa- cier. Heaven seemed to have made them for each other: he had in his person and manners every requisite to dazzle a creature of her character : he talked eternally, wdthout saying anything, and surpassed the most ex- travagant fashions in his dress. Miss Blague believed that all this finery was on her account ; and the marquis believed that her long eyelashes had never taken aim at any but himself. Their inclination for each other was noticed ; but they had only conversed by mute interpreters, when Miss Hamilton took it into her head to meddle in their affairs. ^ Chamberlaj'ne's A uglier N'otitia, 1669, gives the list of the duchess's maids of honour at that time, as follows ; — Mrs. Arabella Churchill, Mrs. Dorothy Howard, Mrs. Anne Ogle, ?ilrs. Mar)' Blague. Hamilton does not, however, refer to the last named lady. It was her sister, Henrietta Maria, who had the flirtation with William, Marquis de Brisacier, at one time secretary to Maria Theresa of Spain, queen of Louis XIV., and who afterwards became the wife of Sir Thomas Yarborough, of Snaith, in Yorkshire. Another sister, Margaret, whose life was written by Evelyn, married Afr. Sydney Godolphin, and died shortly afterwards. She had been maid of honour to both the Duchess of York and Queen Catherine, and performed the part of Diana, in Crowne's Calisio, when this was acted at Court in 1675. The Miss Blagues were daughters of Colonel Blague, groom of the bedchamber to Charles I., and a devoted adherent to Charles II. He died six months after the Restoration. COU.\T D£ gTl.-Jz.irO\T. i6i She wished to do ever}' thing in proper order, and therefore began with her cousin IMuskerry, on account of her rank. The latter's two foibles were dress and dancing. ;\Iagnificence of dress was not sustainable with her figure ; but although her dancing was still more insupportable, she never missed a ball at Court : the queen showing so much complaisance for the pubhc, as alwa\-s to make her dance. However, it was impossible to give Lady ^.luskerry a part in so important and splendid an entertainment as this masquerade, although she was dying with impatience for the orders that she expected. Whilst she was in this state of anxiety, Tiliss Ham- ilton was apprized of it, and formed the design of diverting herself at the expense of this silly v,-oman. The queen sent notes to those whom she appointed to be present, and described the manner in which they were to be dressed. I\Iiss Hamilton had a note of the very same style written to Lady ]\Iuskerry, A\-ith direc- tions for her to dress in the Babylonian fashion. She assembled her council to advise about the means of sending the note, this council being composed of one of her brothers and a sister, who were always glad to divert themselves at the expense of those who deserved it. After consulting together for some time, they at last succeeded in deli\-ering the note into her ladyship's own hands. Lord Rluskerry ' had just gone out -i^'hen she "* Eldest son of the Ear] of Clancarty ; and according to Lord Clarendon, "a 5'oung man of extraordinar)' courage and expectation ;" he had served mth distinction in Flanders, under the Duke of York as colonel of an infantr)' regiment, and was esteemed an excellent officer. He w as one of the gentlemen of the duke's bedchamber, I. M 1 62 <^1[E^1I0I%S OF THE received it : he was a man of honour, rather serious, very severe, and a mortal enemy to ridicule. His wife's ugliness was not so intolerable to him as the ridiculous figure she made upon all occasions. He thought that he was safe in the present case, not believing that the queen would spoil her masquerade by naming Lady Muskerry as one of the dancers ; nevertheless, as he was acquainted with the passion his wife had for exhibiting herself in public, by her dress and dancing, he had just been seriously advising her to content herself with being a spectator of this entertainment, even though the queen should have the cruelty to engage her in it. He then took the liberty to shew her what little similarity there was between her figure and that of persons to whom dancing and magnificence in dress are allowable. His sermon concluded at last, by an express prohibition to solicit a place at this entertainment, which the queen had no thoughts of giving her. However, far from taking his advice in good part, she imagined that he was the only person who had prevented the queen from doing her an honour she so ardently desired ; and as soon as he had gone out, she was minded to go and throw herself at her majesty's feet to demand justice. Whilst she was in this very disposition she received the billet ; three times did she kiss it, and without regarding her husband's injunctions, she im- mediately got into her coach in order to make inquiries of the merchants who traded in the Levant, as to the manner in which ladies of quality dressed at Babylon. The plot laid for Miss Blague was of a different kind : she had such faith in her charms, and was so confident Cou:\:r -DS g%a^ro\:i. 163 of their effects, that she could be made to beheve any- thing. Brisacier, whom she lool^ed upon as desperately smitten, had his wit set off with commonplace talk and little songs ; he sang out of tune most methodically, and was continually exerting one or other of his happy talents. The Duke of Buckingham did all he could to spoil him, by the praises he bestowed upon both his voice and his wit. Miss Blague, who hardly understood a word of French, regulated herself upon the duke's authority, in admiring the one and the other. It was remarked, that all the words which he sang to her were in praise of fair women, and that always taking this to herself, she cast down her eyes in humble acknowledgment and modesty. It was upon these observations that they resoh'cd to make a jest of her at the first opportunity. While these little projects were forming, the king, who was always desirous of affording pleasure to the Cheva- lier de Gramont, asked him if he would make one at the masquerade, on condition of being Miss Hamilton's partner .'' The Chevalier did not consider that he danced sufficiently well for such an occasion as this ; still he took care not to refuse the offer. " Sire," said he, " of all the favours you have been pleased to shew me, since my arrival, I feel this more sensibly than any other ; and to convince you of my gratitude, I promise you all the good offices in my power with Miss Stewart." He said this, because she had just been given an apartment separate from the rest of the maids of honour, and because the courtiers were beginning to pay respect M 2 l64 . ^1[£^1I0I%S OF THE to her. The king was very well pleased at this pleasan- try, and having thanked him for so necessary an offer : " Monsieur le Chevalier," said he, " in what style do you intend to dress for the ball ? I leave you the choice of country." " If that be the case," said the Chevalier, " I will dress after the French manner, in order to disguise myself; for they already do me the honour to take me for an Englishman in your city of London. Had it not been for this, I should have had some wish to appear as a Roman ; but for fear of embroiling myself with Prince Rupert,'^ who so warmly espouses the interests of Alexander against Lord Thanet," who declares himself for Caesar, I no longer dare think of assuming the hero. On the other hand, though I may dance awkwardly, yet, by observing the tune, and with a little alertness, I hope to come off pretty well ; besides, Miss Hamilton will take care that too much attention shall not be paid to me. As for my dress, I shall send Termes off to-morrow morning ; and if at his return I do not shew you the most splendid coat you have ever seen, look upon mine as the most disgraced nation in your masquerade." Termes set out with repeated instructions on the subject of his journey; and his master, with his im- patience redoubling on an occasion like the present, 5 Son of Frederick, Elector-Palatine, and Elizabeth, daughter of James I. His actions during the civil wars are well known. Lord Clarendon says that "he was rough and passionate, and loved not debate ; liked what was proposed, as he lil'ccd the persons who proposed it." He was born in 1619, and died in 1682. " This was either John Tufton, second Earl of Thanet, who died in 1664, or his eldest son, Nicholas Tufton. Both of them suffered much for their loyalty. COU:\T -TDS rjl^A-J][0^(T. 165 began before the courier could be landed, to count the minutes in expectation of his return. Thus was he employed, until the day before the ball ; which was the da}' that Miss Hamilton and her little circle had fixed for the execution of their project. Martial's gloves were then very much in fashion,' and she had by chance a few pairs of them : she sent one pair to Miss Blague, accompanied ■with four ells of yellow riband, the palest she could find, to which she added this note : — " You were the other day more charming than all the fair women in the world ; )-ou looked yesterday still fairer than you did the day before ; if )'ou go on, what will become of my heart ? But it is a long time since it has become the pre}- of your young wild boar's eycs.^ Shall you be at the masquerade to-morrow ? But can there be any charms at an entertainment at which you are not present ? No matter. I shall know you in whatever disguise you may be : but I shall be better informed as to my fate by the present I send }^ou ; you will wear bows of this riband in your hair ; and these gloves will kiss the most beautiful hands in the universe." This billet, with the present, was delivered to Miss Blague, with the same success as the other note had been conveyed to Lady Muskerry. Miss Hamilton had just received an account of the latter affair when her lad}-- " Martial was the fashionable Paris glove-maker of the time. "Does Martial make epigrams as well as he makes gloves ? '' asks Moliere's Countess d'Escarbagnas, in allusion to the glove-maker's Latin namesake. ^ This phrase is a literal rendering of the French, I'os yetix iiiar- caisins, which signifies little, though roguish eyes ; or, as we say, pig's eyes. 1 66 ■.'MS.-J\tOn{S OF THE ship came to pay her a visit : something seemed to possess her thoughts very much, and she was growing impatient, when her cousin desired her to walk into her cabinet. As soon as they ^\■ere there, Lady Muskerry said : " I desire your secrecy for what I am going to tell you. Do you not wonder what strange creatures men are .' Do not trust to them, my dear cousin. Lord Muskerry, who, before our marriage, could have passed whole days and nights in seeing me dance, now thinks proper to forbid me dancing, and says it does not become me. That is not all : he has so often dinned in my ears the subject of this masquerade, that I am obliged to hide from him the honour the queen has done me, in inviting me to it. However, I am surprised I am not informed who is to be my partner ; but if you only knew what a plague it is, to find, in this cursed town, what one needs to dress as a woman of Babylon, you would pity me for what I have suffered since the time I was selected. Besides, the cost which it puts me to is beyond all imagination." At this point Miss Hamilton's inclination to laugh, which had increased in proportion as she endeavoured to suppress it, finally overcame her, and broke out in an immoderate fit. Lady Muskerry was pleased, not doubting but that she was laughing at the fantastical conduct of her husband. Miss Hamilton told her that all husbands were much the same, and that one ought not to be concerned at their whims ; that she did not know who was to be her partner at the masquerade ; but that, as she was named, the gentleman named with her would [certainly not fail to attend her ; although she Cou:\:r 1)8 g\^izni:o?{T. 167 could not comprehend why he had not yet declared himself, unless he likewise had some fantastical spouse, who had forbidden him to dance. This conversation being finished, Lady Muskerry went away in great haste, to endeavour to obtain some news of her partner. Those who were accomplices in the plot were laughing very heartily at this visit, when Lord Muskerry paid them one in his turn, and taking Miss Hamilton aside, inquired : " Do you know whether there is to be any ball in the city to-morrow ? " " No," replied she ; " but why do you ask ? " " Because," said he, " I am informed that my wife is making great preparations of dress. I know very well that she is not to be at the masquerade : that I have taken care of; but as she has the devil in her for dancing, I am very much afraid that she will be afford- ing some fresh subject for ridicule, despite all my pre- cautions : however, if it was amongst the citizens, at some retired place, I should not much mind it." They reassured him as well as they could, and having dismissed him, under pretence of a thousand things they had to prepare for the morrow. Miss Hamilton thought herself at liberty for the rest of the day, when in came Miss Price, one of the maids of honour to the duchess." This -was just \\hat she was ^\'ishing for : this '■> Miss HenrieUa Maria Price was maid of honoui- lo the queen and not to the Duchess of York ; her name appears in the list, given in Chamber- layne's Ajtglia: Notitia. It is said that after being oVjJiged to resign her position near Catherine (see vol. ii., p. SS), she became bedchamber woman to Lady Castlemaine. It should be mentioned that I'epys speaks of a i\lrs. Price, who was the Duke of York's mistress, and who went up and down the privy-stairs instead of being acknowledged publicly. Granger also says 1 68 •nrscnioj^s of the lady and Miss Blague had been at variance for some time, on account of Dongan,'" whom Miss Price had drawn away from the other ; and hatred still subsisted between these two divinities. Although the maids of honour had not been nomi- nated for the masquerade, they were to assist at it, and consequently neglected nothing to set themselves off to advantage. Miss Hamilton had still another pair of gloves of the same sort as those she had sent to Miss Blague, and made a present of them to her rival, with a few knots of the same riband, which appeared to have been made on purpose for her, darlv as she was. Miss Price returned her a thousand thanks, and promised to do herself the honour of wearing them at the ball. "You will oblige me if you do," said Miss Hamilton, "but if you mention that such a trifle as this comes from me, I shall never forgive you. Moreover," continued she, " do not go and rob poor Miss Blague of the Marquis de Brisacicr, as you already have of Dongan : I know very well that it is wholly in your power ; you are witty, you speak French, and were he once to converse with you, the other could have no pretensions to him." "there was a Lady Price, a fine woman, daughter of Sir Edmund Warcup, who had the vanity to think that Charles II. would marry her, though he had then a queen. There were letters of Warcup's wherein he mentioned, that " his daughter was one night and t'other with the king, and very graciously received by him." — Granger, vol. iv. p. 338. '" Lord Orford mentions that the Dongans were ancient Earls of Limerick. In reference to the individual mentioned above, Sir Richard p'anshaw writes to Lord Arlington, June 4, 1664; — "I ought not, in justice to an honourable person, to conclude before I acquaint your honour, that I have this day seen a letter, whereljy it is certified, from my Lord Dongan (now at Xeres), that, if there were any ship in Cadiz bound for Tangier, he would go over in her, to do his majesty what service he could in that garrison ; which, he saith, he fears wants good officers very much." — Letters, vol. i. p. 104. Cou^xy 'DS gx^i-Jifo.xi. 169 This was enough ; Miss Blague was only ridiculous and coquettish, Miss Price was ridiculous, coquettish, and something else besides. The day being come, the Court, more brilliant than ever, exhibited all its magnificence at this masquerade. The company were all met except the Chevalier de Gramont : everybody was astonished that he should be one of the last on such an occasion, as his readiness was so remarkable in trifling matters ; but they were still more surprised, to see him at length appear in an ordinary coat, which he had worn before. The thing was pre- posterous on such an occasion, and unprecedented as regards himself : in vain did he wear the finest point- lace, with the largest and best powdered peruke imagin- able ; his dress, although magnificent, was not at all proper for this entertainment. The king immediately took notice of it : " Chevalier de Gramont," said he, " Termes has not arrived then ? " " Excuse me. Sire," said the Chevalier, " God be thanked ! " "Why God be thanked.'" asked the king; "has anything happened to him on the road .' " " Sire," said the Chevalier de Gramont, " this is the history of my dress, and of Termes, my messenger." At these words the ball, ready to begin, was suspended, the dancers making a circle around the Chevalier de Gramont, who continued his story in the following manner : " It is now two days since this fellow ought to have been here, according to my orders and his oaths : you may judge of my impatience all to-day, finding that he I70 cirs:nroi-j{.s of the did not conic. At last, after I had heartily cursed him, about an hour ago he arrived, splashed all over from head to foot, booted up to the waist, looking in fact as if he had been excommunicated." " ' Well, Mr. Scoundrel,' said I, ' so this is your be- haviour ; you must be waited for to the very last minute and it is a miracle that you have arrived at all.' " ' Yes, faith,' said he, ' it is a miracle. You are always grumbling. I had the finest coat in the world made for you, which the Duke de Guise himself was at the trouble of ordering.' " ' Give it me, then, scoundrel,' said I. "'Sir,' he replied, 'if I did not employ a dozen em- broiderers upon it, who did nothing but work at it day and night, consider me to be a rascal ; I never left them one moment.' " ' And where is it, traitor .' ' said I : ' do not stand here prating, whilst I should be dressing.' " ' I had packed it up,' continued he, ' made it tight, and folded it in such a manner that all the rain in the world would never have been able to reach it ; and I rode post, day and night, knowing your impatience, and that you were not to be trifled with.' " ' But where,' said I, ' is this coat which you packed up so well .' ' " ' Lost, sir,' he replied, clasping his hands. " ' How ! lost,' said I, in surprise. " ' Yes, lost, perished, swallowed up : what can I say p ' What, was the packet-boat cast away then } ' I inquired. more .' Cou:\T 'TDE g%-Aciro.xT. lyi '■ ' Oh ! indeed, sir, it was a great deal worse, as you shall see,' answered he : 'I was within half a league of Calais yesterday morning, and resolved to go along the shore, to make greater haste ; but, indeed they say very true, that there is nothing like the highway ; for I got into a quicksand, and sunk in it up to the chin.' " ■' A quicksand ! ' said I, ' near Calais ? ' " ' Yes, sir,' said he, ' and such a quicksand too, that, the devil take me, if they saw anything but the top of my head \\'hen they pulled me out : as for my horse, fifteen men could scarce get him out, but the port- manteau, in which I had unfortunately put your coat, could never be found ; it must be at least a league underground.' " This, Sire," continued the Chevalier de Gramont, " is the adventure, and the account which this honest fellow gave me of it. I should certainly have killed him, had I not been afraid of making Miss Hamilton wait, and desirous of giving your majesty immediate advice of the quicksand, so that your couriers may take care to avoid it." The king was ready to split his sides with laughter, when the Chevalier thus resumed the discourse : " Apropos, Sire," said he, " I had forgotten to tell you, that to increase my ill-humour, I was stopped, as I was getting out of my chair, by the devil of a phantom in masquerade dress, who wished by all means to persuade me that the queen had commanded me to dance with her • and, as I excused myself with the least rudeness possible, she charged me to inquire here who was to be her partner, and desired me to send him to her. imr. 172 <^[Bc,lWI%S OF THE mediately. Your majesty will therefore do well to give orders about it ; for she has placed herself in ambush in a coach, to seize upon all who pass through Whitehall. Moreover, I must tell you, that her dress is a sight worth seeing ; for she must have at least sixty ells of gauze and silver tissue about her, not to mention a sort of pyramid upon her head, adorned with a hundred thousand baubles." This last account surprised the whole assembly, except- ing those who had a share in the plot. The queen de- clared that all she had appointed for the ball were pre- sent ; and the king, after reflecting for some minutes, said : " I bet it is the Duchess of Newcastle." ^^ " Margaret, youngest daughter of Sir Charles Lucas. She had been one of the maids of honour to Charles I.'s queen, whom she attended when the latter was forced to leave England. At Paris she married the Duke of Xewcastle, and continued in e.xile with him until the Restoration. After her return to England, she lived entirely devoted to letters, and published many volumes of plays, poems, &c. She died in 1673. Lord Orford says, " there is a whol; length of this duchess at Welbeck, in a theatric dress, which, tradition says, she generally wore. She had always a maid of honour in waiting during the night, who was often called up to register the duchess's conceptions. These were all of a literary kind ; for her grace left no children." Pepys, in his Diary (April 11, 1667), has this note about the duchess : — "To Whitehall, thinking there to have seen the Duchess of Newcastle coming this night to Court to make a visit to the queen, the king having been with her yesterday to make her a visit since her coming to town. The whole story of this lady is a romance, and all she does is romantic. Her footmen in velvet coats, and herself in an antique dress, as they say ; and was the other day at her own play. The Huiiiorous Lovers, the most ridiculous thing that ever was wrote, Vnit yet she and her lord mightily pleased with it ; and she at the end made her respects to the players from her box, and did give them thanks. There is as much expectation of her coming to Court, that people may come to see her, as if it were the Queen of Sweden ; but I lost my labour, for she did not come this night." Pepys was gratified, however, by seeing the duchess a few days later with " her velvet cap, her hair about her ears, many black patches because of pimples aliout her mouth, naked-necked without anything about it, and a h\&cV jnst-a-corps." He also caught sight of her in tfie park, "she being followed and crowded upon by coaches all the way she went, that nobody could come near her ; only I could see she was in a large black coach I -^ CouiXT -m g%yimo\j. 173 " And I," said Lord Muskerry, coming up to Miss Plamilton, " will bet it is another fool ; for I am very much mistaken if it is not my wife." The king desired that someone should go and find out who it was, and bring her in. Lord Muskerry offered himself for this service, on account of the presentiment already mentioned ; and it was very well he did so. Miss Hamilton was not sorry for this, knowing very well that he was not mistaken in his conjecture : the jest would have gone much farther than she had intended, if the princess of Babylon had appeared in all her glory. So long as they danced but serious dances, the ball was not very well executed, if one may be allowed the expression ; and yet there were as good dancers, and as beautiful women in this assembly, as were to be found in the whole world ; but as their number was not great, the French dances were left on one side, and country- dances proceeded with. When those ladies who were in masquerade costumes had danced some time, the king thought fit to introduce his auxiliaries, to give the others a little respite : so the gentlemen of the masquerade led the queen's and the duchess's maids of honour to the dance.^^ Then it was that the plotters were at leisure to take adorned with silver instead of gold, and so while curtains, and everything black and white, and herself in her cap." '• Pepys has the following allusion to this masquerade, under date Feb. 3, 1664-5 ■ — " Mrs. Pickering did at my Lady Sandwich's command tell me the manner of a masquerade before the king and Court the other day. Where six women (my Lady Castlemaine and Duchess of Monmouth being two of them), and six men (the Duke of Monmouth and Lord Avon, and Monsieur Blanfort, being three of them), in vizards, but most rich and antique dresses, did dance admirably and most gloriously." The M, Elancfort here spoken of was Louis de Duras, afterwards Earl of Faversham. 174 cnrs^irori{.'i of the notice of Miss Blague, and they found that the billet which had been conveyed to her on the part of Brisacicr had had its effect : she was more yellow than saffron : her light hair was stuffed with the citron-coloured riband, which she had put there out of complaisance ; and^ to inform Brisacier of his fate, she often raised to her head her victorious hands, adorned with the gloves we have before mentioned. However, if the others were surprised to see her in a head-dress that made her look more wan than ever, she herself was far more surprised to see Miss Price share Brisacier's present with her in every par- ticular. Her surprise soon turned to jealousy ; for her rival had not failed to join in conversation with him, on account of what had been insinuated to her the evening before ; nor did Brisacier fail to return her first advances, without pa)'ing the least attention to the fair Blague, nor to the signs which, exerting herself to desperation, she made him, to inform him of his happy destiny. Miss Price was short and dumpy, and consequently no dancer. The Duke of Buckingham, who brought Brisacier forward as often as he could, came to request him, on the king's behalf, to dance with Miss Blague, without knowing what was then passing in that nymph's heart. Brisacier excused himself, on account of the contempt that he had for country-dances. Miss Blague thought that it was herself that he despised ; and, seeing that he was engaged in conversation with her mortal enemy, she began to dance, without knowing what she was doing. Though her indignation and jealousy were sufficiently evident to divert the whole Court, none but Miss Hamilton and her accomplices who understood Cou:xr -DE gi{yi^iio.\:T. 175 the joke, enjoyed complete pleasure. Their satisfaction was perfect, for Lord Muskerry soon returned, con- founded at the vision which tlie Chevalier de Gramont had described : he acquainted Miss Hamilton, that it was Lady Muskerry in person, a thousand times more ridiculous than she had ever been before, and that he had had all the trouble in the world to get her home, and place a sentry at her chamber door. The reader may think, perhaps, that we have dwelt too long on these trifling incidents ; perhaps he may be right : we will, therefore, pass to others. Everything favoured the Chevalier de Gramont in the new passion which he entertained. He was not without rivals ; but, what is more extraordinary, he was without uneasiness. He was acquainted with their minds, and with Miss Hamilton's also. Her most considerable, though least openly declared lover, was the Duke of York ; but it was in vain for him to conceal it, the Court was too well acquainted with his character to doubt of his inclinations for her. He did not think it appropriate to declare sentiments which were not fit for Miss Hamilton to hear ; but he talked to her as much as he could, and ogled her assiduously. Hunting, which was his favourite diversion, employed him during part of the day, and generally he came home somewhat fatigued ; but Miss Hamilton's pre- sence revived him, when he found her either with the queen or the duchess. There it was that, not daring to tell her of what lay heavy on his heart, he entertained her with what he had in his head ; telling her mar- vellous things about the cunning of foxes and the mettle 176 ^irS^-MOIXS OF THE of horses ; giving her accounts of broken legs and arms, dislocated shoulders, and other curious and entertaining adventures ; after which, his eyes told her the rest, till such time as sleep interrupted their conversation ; for these tender interpreters could not sometimes help closing in the very midst of their ogling. The duchess was not alarmed at a passion which her rival was far from thinking sincere, and with which she used to divert herself, as far as respect would allow her : on the contrary, as her highness had a liking and esteem for Miss Hamilton, she never treated her more graciously than at this period. The two Russells, uncle and nephew, were two of the Chevalier de Gramont's other rivals. The uncle !•' was full sixty, and had distinguished himself by his courage and fidelity in the civil wars. His passion and inten- tions, with regard to Miss Hamilton, appeared both at once ; but his magnificence only appeared by halves in those gallantries which love inspires. Not long before, people had discarded the ridiculous fashion of high- crowned pointed hats to fall into the other extreme, and old Russell, amazed at so terrible a change, resolved to preserve a medium, which rendered him remarkable : he was still more so, by his constancy for slashed doublets, which he adhered to for a long time after they had been universally suppressed ; but, what was most surprising about him, was a certain mixture of avarice and liberality, which had been constantly at war with I'i John Russell, third son of Francis, fourth Earl of Bedford, and colonel of the first regiment of foot guards. Spite of his age he was an inveterate dancer and is described by Pepys as figuring at a Court ball on the occa- sion of the queen's birthday, in 1668. He died unmarried in 1681. COU.'KT 'DS G%^^iw:xT. 177 each other, ever since he had entered the hsts with love. His nephew^' was only of a younger brother's family, but was considered to be his heir ; however, although this nephew was dependent on his uncle for an esta- blishment, and should have humoured him, in order to get his estate, he could not avoid his fate. Mrs. Middle- ton shewed him sufficient preference ; but her favours could not secure him from the charms of Miss Hamilton. His person would have had nothing disagreeable in it, if he had only left it to nature ; but he was formal in all his actions, and taciturn enough to give one the vapours ; though he proved even more tiresome when he did speak. The Chevalier de Gramont, quite at his ease as to all these competitors, became more and more deeply engaged, without, however, forming other designs, or con- ceiving other hopes, than of rendering himself agreeable. Although his passion was openly declared, nobody at Court regarded it otherwise than as gallantry, which goes no farther than to render justice to merit. His philosopher, Saint-Evremond,^° was of quite a " William, eldest son of Edward Russell, the younger brother of the John Russell just spoken of. '* Saint-Evremond drew his own character in a letter to Gramont in the following terms : — " He was a philosopher equally removed from super- stition and impiety ; a voluptuary who had no less aversion from debauchery than inclination for pleasure, a man who had never felt the pressure ot indigence, and who liad never been in possession of affluence. . . . 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. . . . 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 I. N 178 •Siie,:ritOI%S OF THE different opinion on finding that, besides an immense increase of magnificence and assiduity, he regretted the hours which he bestowed on play ; that he no longer sought after those long and agreeable conversations they had been used to have together ; and that this new attachment no longer left him master of himself " Monsieur le Chevalier," said he, " mcthinks that for some time past you have left the town beauties and their lovers in perfect repose : Mrs. Middleton makes fresh conquests with impunity, and wears your presents, under your nose, without your taking the smallest notice; poor Miss Warmester has been quietly brought to bed in the midst of the Court, without your having even said a word about it. I foresaw it well enough. Mon- sieur le Chevalier, you have got acquainted with Miss Hamilton, and — what had never before happened to you — you are now really in love. But let us consider a little what may be the consequence. In the first place, I do not believe that you have the least intention of seducing her : such is her birth and merit, that if you were in possession of the estates and titles of your family, it might be excusable for you to come forward with serious intentions, however ridiculous marriage may be in general ; for, if you only wish for wit, discretion, and the treasures of beauty, you could not pay your addresses to a more proper person. But as you only possess a very moderate share of the treasures of fortune, you the most rational, to fortify liis 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. ... 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." Cou.xT -BS g%^iiMo:sj: 179 cannot pay your addresses more improperly ; for your brother Toulongeon/'' whose disposition I am acquainted with, will not have the complaisance to die, in order to favour your pretensions. " But suppose you had a competent fortune for both of you, and that is supposing a good deal, are you acquainted with this beauty's delicacy, not to say caj^riciousness, in reference to such an engagement ? Do you know that she has had the choice of the best matches in England ? The Duke of Richmond was one of the first to pay his addresses to her ; but although he was in love with her, he was also mercenary : whereupon the king, observing that want of fortune was the only impediment to the match, took that article upon himself, out of regard alike for the Duke of Ormond, for the merit and birth of Miss Hamilton, and for her father's services. Miss Hamilton, however, shocked that a man who pretended to be in love should haggle and bargain, and reflecting also upon his character in society, did not think it of such high importance for her to become Duchess of Richmond at the risk of the danger that was to be feared from a brute and a debauchee. " Did not little Jermyn, notwithstanding his uncle's great estate, and his own brilliant reputation, also fail in his suit to her .'' And has she ever so much as vouchsafed to look at Henry Howard,''' who is upon "■ Count (le Toiilongcon was elJer brother to the Chevalier de Gramont, who, by his death, in 1679, Ijecame, according to Saint-Evremond, one of the richest noblemen at Court. — Saint-Evremond's IVoiks, vol. ii. p. 237. " Brother to Thomas, Earl of Arundel, who, by a special Act of Parlia- ment passed in 1664, was restored to the honours of the family, forfeited by the attainder of his ancestor, in the time of Elizabeth. Pepys mentions that Henry Howard, who only appeared stupid in the eyes of H.amilton, I So c^iredWI^S OF THE the point of being the first duke in England, and is already actually in possession of all the estates of the house of Norfolk ? I confess that he is a clown ; but what other lady in all England would not put up with his stupidity and disagreeable person to become the first duchess in the kingdom, with twenty-five thousand a year ? " To conclude : Lord Falmouth himself has told me that he has always looked upon her as the only acquisi- tion wanting to complete his happiness ; but that, even at the height of his fortune, he had never dared to declare his sentiments to her ; that he either felt in him- self too much weakness, or too much pride, to be satisfied with obtaining her solely by the consent of her rela- tions ; and that, although the first refusals of the fair on such occasions are not taken into account, yet he knew with what an air she received the addresses of those whom she did not like. After this, Monsieur le Chevalier, consider in what way you intend to achieve success ; for you are in love, and jour passion will go on increas- ing, and the greater your attachment the less capable will you be of reflecting, as you might do now." " My poor philosopher," answered the Chevalier de Gramont, "you know Latin very well, you can write verses, you understand the course, and are acquainted with the nature of the stars in the firmament ; but, as for the luminaries of the earth, you know nothing what- ever about them. You have told me nothing concern- presented his grandfather's library to the Royal Society ; and allowed the Society to meet at Arundel House when Gresham College was no longer at its service. On the death of his brother, in 1677, Henry Howard became Duke of Norfolk, and died Jan. 1683-4, aged 55. Cou.xr ■DS g%^cMo:xr. i8i ing Miss Hamilton, but what the king told me three days ago. That she refused the Ostrogoths you have men- tioned is all in her favour ; if she had cared to take them, I should not care to have her, although I love her to distraction. Attend now to what I am going to say; I am resolved to marry her, and I wnW have my tutor Saint Evremond the first to commend me for doing so. As for an establishment, I will make my peace with the king, and beg him to make her one of the ladies-in- waiting, which he will grant me. Toulongeon will die, without assistance or hindrance on my part ; and Miss Hamilton will have Scmeac,^- with the Chevalier de Gramont, as compensation for the Norfolks and Rich- monds. Now, have you anything to advance against this project .'' For I will bet you a hundred louis, that everything will happen as I say." It was about this time that the king's attachment to Miss Stewart became so evident, that, as could be easily seen, had she only been possessed of artifice, she might have become as absolutely the mistress of his mind as she was of his heart. ^'' This was a fine opportunity for " See anle, p. xxxii. " Under date Jan. 1663-4, Tepys notes that Mr. Pierce (surgeon to the Duke of York), " tells me that the king do doat upon Mrs. Stewart only, and that to the leaving of all business in the world, and to the open slighting of the queen, that he values not who sees him or stands by him while he dallies with her openly and then privately in her chamber below, where the very sentries observe his going in and out." Subsequently Pepys hears from the same source, " how the king is now become besotted upon Mrs. Stewart, that he gets into corners, and will be with her half an hour together, refusing her to the observation of all the world ; and now she stays by herself and expects it." Pepys further notes (Feb. 8), that " the good queen will of herself stop before she goes sometimes into her dressing- room, till she knows whether the king be there, for fear he should be, as she has sometimes taken him with Mrs. Stewart." Five months later (July 17), Pepys makes a visit to Whitehall, where " in one of the galleries lS2 ■^SI[£'-Si[OI%H OF THE those who had experience and ambition. The Duke of Buckingham formed the design of governing her in order to ingratiate himself with the king; God knows what a governor he would have been, and what a head he was possessed of, to guide another ! However, he was the most suitable man in the world to insinuate himself with a woman of such a mind as Miss Stewart; there was something childish in her disposition— she laughed at everything, and her taste for frivolous amusements, though unaffected, seemed only allowable in a girl until about twelve or thirteen years of age. A child, how- ever, she was, in every respect, except playing with a doll. Blind-man's buff was one of her most favourite amusements. She would build castles of cards, while the deepest plaj' went on in her apartments, where you saw courtiers press round her, handing her the cards, or other architects, endeavouring to imitate her. She had, however, a passion for music, and some taste for singing. The Duke of Buckingham, who built the finest edifices of cards imaginable, had an agreeable voice. She had no aversion to scandal ; and the duke was both the father and the mother of scandal. He wrote songs, and invented old women's stories, with which she was delighted ; but his particular talent con- sisted in seizing hold of whatever was ridiculous in other people's speech and person, and in taking them off, even there comes out of the chair room Mrs. Stewart in a must love!)' form with her hair all about her ears, having her picture taken there. There was the king, and twenty, I think, standing by all the wdiile ; and a lovely creature she in the dress seemed to be." A few days before Tepys speaks of her as "very fine and pretty, l)Ut far beneath my Lady Castlemaine," who was evidently the queen of beauty in the Secretary to the Admiralty's eyes. r ,-A f / I (^/' (' "I in their presence, witliout tlieir perceiving it. In short, he knew how to mimic all sorts of persons with so much grace and pleasantry, that it was difficult to do without him, when he had a mind to make himself agreeable. Thus he had made himself so necessary to Miss Stewart's amusement, that she sent everywhere to seek for him, when he did not attend the king to her apartments.-" He was very good looking, and thought himself still more so than he really was. Although he had a deal of discernment, his vanity made him mistake some civilities, which were only bestowed on his wit and drollery, as intended for his person. In short, led away by too good an opinion of his own merit, he forgot his first project and his Portuguese mistress, in order to pursue a fancy as to which he was mistaken ; for he no sooner began to act a serious part with Miss Stewart, than he met with so severe a repulse, that he at once abandoned all -" Everyone will remember Dryden's portrait of tlie duke, in his Absalom and AcJiitophel : — " A man so various that he seemed With something new to wish or to to be enjoy ! Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Railing and praising were his usual Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong; themes, Was everything by starts, and noth- And both, to shew his judgment, in ing long, extremes ; But, in the course of one revolving So over violent, or nver civil, moon. That every man with him was god Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, or devil. and buffoon ; In squandering vs'calth was his Then all for women, painting, peculiar art ; rhyming, drinking, Nothing went uirrewarded but desert. Besides ten thousand freaks that Beggared by fools, whom still he died in thinking. found too late ; Blest madman, who could every He had his jest, and they had his hour employ estate. See Appendix, note B., for the less familiar but equally powerful sketch of the duke's character by the author of Hudibras. I84 cM'£<:yifOI%S OF THE his designs upon her. However, it may be said that the famiharity she had procured him with the king opened a way to the favour to which he subsequently rose. Lord ArHngton -^ took up the project which the Duke of Buckingham had abandoned, and strove to gain pos- session of the mind of the mistress, in order to govern the master. A man of greater merit and higher birth than himself might, however, have been satisfied with the fortune he had aheady acquired. His first negotia- tions had been in connection with the treaty of the Pyrenees ; and though he had not been successful as ^' Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington, principal secretary of state and lord chamberlain to Charles II., whom he outlived only a few months, dying in July, 16S5. He was one of the members of the notorious Cabal, another member of which has thus sketched his portrait : — " First draw an arrant fop from tip That one may see through them to toe, quite through his head. Whose very looks at first dost show Let every nod of his and subtle him so ; wink Give him a mean proud garb, a Declare the fool would talk but dapper face, cannot think. A pert dull grin, a black patch Let him all other fools so far sur- 'cross his face, pass Two goggle eyes, so clear, though That fools themselves point at him very dead, for an ass." Aih'ice to a painter to draw my Lord A ton. By the Duke of Buckingham. Rochester also had his fling at Arlington : — " Clarendon had law and sense, Clifford was fierce and brave J Bennet's grave look was a pretence, And Danby's matchless impudence Helped to support the knave." ^'Arlington," says Macaulay, " had two aspects, a busy and serious one for the public, whom he wished to awe into respect, and a gay one for Charles, who thought that the greatest service which could be rendered to a prince was to amuse him." — Essays, vol. iii. p. 29. " Arlington is fond of luxury and amusement," wrote one French ambassador ; " no member of the English aristocracy has so many carriages in his mews, "wTOte another ; while a third informed the Court of Versailles that "Arlington would sell his soul to the devil to worst an enemy." — M.S. Affaires Etrangeres : Angleterre. Cou.xr -DS g'!{:A^fo:KT. 185 regards his master's interests he had not altogether lost his time ; he had outwardly acquired the serious air and profound gravity of the Spaniards, and fairly imitated their dilatory habits in business. He had a scar across his nose, which was covered by a long patch, or, rather, by a small lozenge-shaped plaster. Scars in the face commonly give a man a certain fierce and martial air, which is not unbecoming ; but it was quite the contrary with him, for this remarkable plaster had so adapted itself to his mysterious look, that it seemingly added to it an air of importance and capacity. Arlington, under the mask of this compound counte- nance, the covetous look of which passed for love of work, whilst its expression of impenetrable stupidity was sup- posed to indicate reticence, had given himself out as a great politician ; and no one having leisure to examine him, he had been taken at his word, and made minister and secretary of state, upon the credit of his appearance. Being too ambitious to content himself with this station, after providing himself with a number of fine maxims, and some historical anecdotes, he obtained an audience of Miss Stewart, in order to display them ; at the same time offering her his most humble services and best advice, to assist her in conducting herself in the situation to which it had pleased God, and her virtue, to raise her. But he was only in the preface of his speech, when she recollected that he was at the head of those whom the Duke of Buckingham was used to mimic ; and as his presence and his language answered exactly to the ridiculous ideas that had been given her of him, she could not forbear from bursting into a fit of laughter, 1 86 ^[EnMOI^S OF THE which was the more violent as she had long struggled to suppress it. The minister was enraged ; his pride became his post, and his punctilious behaviour merited all the ridicule which could be attached to it. He quitted her abruptly, with all the fine advice he had prepared for her, and was almost tempted to carry it to Lady Castlemaine, and to join her interests ; or else to quit the Court party, and declaim in parliament against the wrongs done to the State, and particularly to propose an act to forbid the keeping of mistresses. However, his prudence got the better of his resentment ; and, no longer thinking of aught save how to enjoy the blessings of fortune in an agreeable way, he sent to Holland for a wife, in order to complete his felicity.-- Hamilton -* was, of all the courtiers, the best qualified to succeed in an enterprise in which the Duke of Bucking- ham and Lord Arlington had failed. He had thought of it ; but his natural coquetry traversed his intentions, ^- The lady here referred to is Isabella, daughter of Louis of Nassau, Lord of Beverwacrt, son to Maurice, Prince of Orange, and Count of Nassau. By her, Lord Arlington had an only daughter, named Isabella, who married, Aug. i, 1672, Henry, Earl of Euston, son of Charles 11., by the Countess of Castlemaine, and afterwards created Duke of Graft- on. .-///-£7/£Jj' of Arlington's luxurious tastes we find the countess begging Madame Colbert to send her "from Paris enough of the finest Venice brocatellc to make hangings for an anteroom, with covers for twelve chairs ; " and damask curtains and coverings for another set of furniture. The ambassador notified this request to Louis XIV., and added, " If the king thinks it for the good of his service to make the present, it would, I fancy, much gratify the lady."' It was Lady Arlington who got up the mock marriage at Euston between Charles II. and Louise de Keroualle, which resulted in the birth of a son, created L)uke of Richmond, and the raising of the mother to the dignity of Duchess of Portsmouth." — Forneron's Louise dc Kcroualk, Eng. trans., pp. 55 and 72. ■-' James Hamilton, the elder brother of the author of the Memoirs, is the person here intended. Lord Orford erroneously ascribes the adventure to their brother George. -^ COU^Xj '■DS g%.A.-siroi\r. 187 and made him neglect the most advantageous project in the world, in order to reply, quite in waste, to the advances and allurements with which the Countess of Chesterfield took it into her head to favour him. This was one of the most agreeable women in the world : she had a most exquisite shape, though she was not very tall. She was fair, with all the glow and whiteness of a blonde, and all the animation and piquancy of a brunette. She had large blue eyes, which were very alluring ; her manners were engaging, her wit lively and amusing ; but her heart, ever open to tender sentiments, was neither scrupulous in point of constancy, nor nice in point of sincerity. She was daughter to the Duke of Ormond,-'' and, Hamilton being her cousin-german, they saw each other as much as they pleased quite harmlessly ; but as soon as her eyes gave him some encouragement, he no longer thought of aught save how to please her, with- out considering her fickleness, or the obstacles that lay in his way. His intention of establishing himself in the confidence of Miss Stewart no longer occupied his thoughts ; besides, she was soon in a position to dispense with the counsel which others had thought of giving her as to her conduct. She had done all that was necessary to increase the king's passion, without injuring her virtue by granting the last favours ; but the eagerness of a passionate lover, blessed with favourable opportunities, is difficult to withstand, and still more difficult to "* She was the Earl of Chesterfield's second wife, and survived the adventures here related only a very short time, dying in July, 1665, at the age of twenty-five years, tier death was found recorded in the earl's memorandum book, unaccompanied by a single remark or expression of regret. 1 88 c7ifsaroi%s OF the vanquish ; and Miss Stewart's virtue was almost ex- hausted, when the queen was attacked with a violent fever, which soon placed her in extreme danger. Then it was that Miss Stewart was greatly pleased with herself for the resistance which had cost her no little effort : a thousand hopes of greatness and glory filled her heart, and the additional respect that was universally paid her contributed to increase them. The queen was given over by her physicians. The few Portuguese women, that had not been sent back to their own country, filled the Court with doleful cries ; and the good nature of the king was much affected with the situation in which he saw a princess, whom he certainly did not love, but whom he greatly esteemed. She loved him tenderly, and thinking it was the last time she would ever speak to him, she told him, that the concern he shewed for her death was enough to make her quit life with regret ; however, as she did not pos- sess sufficient charms to merit his tenderness, she at least had the consolation in dying of giving place to a consort, who might be more worthy of it, and to whom heaven, perhaps, would grant a blessing that had been refused to her. At these words, she bathed his hands with tears, which he thought would be her last ; he mingled his own with hers, and without imagining that she would take him at his word, he conjured her to live for his sake. She had never yet disobeyed him ; and, however dangerous sudden emotions may be when one is between life and death, this transport of joy, which might have proved fatal to her, saved her, and the king's wonderful tenderness had an effect for Cou:\T lis g\.A.-siro.xi ■ 189 which everybody did not thank heaven in the same degree.-^ Jermyn had some time previously recovered from his wounds ; however, Lady Castlemaine, finding his health in as deplorable a condition as ever, resolved to regain the king's heart, but in vain : for notwithstanding the softness of her tears, and the violence of her passions, Miss Stewart wholly possessed it. During this period the Court was variously entertained : occasionally there were promenades on horseback, when the Court beauties vied in charms and graces, sometimes successful!}', sometimes otherwise, but always to the best of their abilities ; -" at ^^ Pepys describes the queen's illness as the spotted fever, "she being as full of spots as a leopard " ; and under date Oct. 19, 1663, he notes that, " She was so ill as to be shaved, and pigeons put to her feet, and to have the extreme unction given her by the priests, who were so long abouti: that the doctors were angry. The king, they say, is most fondly disconsolate for her, and weeps by her, which makes her weep . . . but for all that," Pepys goes on to say, " he hath not missed one night since she was sick of supping with my Lady Castlemaine." The following letters from the French ambassador to his government corroborate both Pepys' account and Hamilton's narrative : — "Oct. 15, 1663. During the night of Friday to Saturday, the queen thought she would die ; she took the viaticum^ made her will, and had her hair cut. The king threw himself on his knees, bursting into tears ; she consoled him with a deal of calmness and gentleness. She said she rejoiced that he woidd soon be in a position to marry again, with a princess of greater merit, who would be able to contribute to his satisfaction and that of the State." " Oct. 25, 1663. The queen is in such a condition, that in the judgment of the doctors, there is little ground for hope. She received the extreme unction this morning. The king seems to me greatly distressed ; however, he supped at Lady Castlemaine's, and had his usual conversation with Miss Stewart, with whom he is very much in love." 26 " Hearing that the king and queen are rode abroad with the ladies of honour to the park, and seeing a great crowd of gallants staying here to see their return, I also stayed, walking up and down. By and i)y the king and queen, who looked in this dress (a white laced waistcoat and a crimson short petticoat, and her hair dressed ci la negligence) mighty pretty ; and the king rode hand-in-hand with her. Here also my Lady Castlemaine rode among the rest of the ladies, but the king took, methought, no notice of her ; nor when she alighted did anybody press (as she seemed to expect and stayed for it) to take her down, but was taken down by her own 19° -Si[E^M0J1{:-i OF THE other times there were such shows on the river, as the city of London alone can afford. The Thames washes the sides of the large, though not magnificent, palace of the kings of Great Britain."'' By the stairs of this palace the Court descended to take water, in the summer evenings, when the heat and dust pre- vented their promenading in the park. An infinite number of open boats, filled with all the Court and city beauties, attended the barges, in which were the royal family. Collations, music, and fireworks completed the scene. The Chevalier de Gramont always made one of the com- pan}', and it was very seldom that he did not add some- thing of his own invention, and agreeably surprise the company by some unexpected stroke of magnificence and gallantry. Sometimes he had complete concerts of vocal and instrumental music, privately sending to Paris gentlemen. She looked mighty out of humour, and had a yellow plume in her hat (which all took notice of), and yet is very handsome, yet very melancholy ; nor did anybody speak to her, or she so much as smile or speak to anybody. I followed them up into Whitehall, and into the queen's presence, where all the ladies walked, talking and fiddling with their hats and feathers, and changing and tr) ing one another's by one another's heads and laughing. But it was the finest sight to me, considering their great beauty and dress, that ever I did see in all my life." — Diary (July 13, 1663). '-' " The palace of Whitehall occupied a large space of ground, having one front towards the Thames and another of a humbler character towards St. James's Park. . . There was a public thoroughfare through the palace from Charing Cross to Westminster, crossed by two gates, one known as Whitehall gate and the other as the King Street gate. . . It was in the Tudor style of architecture, with a succession of galleries and courts, a large hall, a chapel, tennis court, cockpit, orchard, and banqueting house, lames I. intended to have rebuilt the whole palace, and Inigo Jones designed a new Whitehall for that king worthy of our nation and his own great name. But nothing was built beiond the banqueting house. Charlesl. contemplated a similar reconstruction, but poverty at first prevented him, and the Civil War soon after was a more efleclual prohibition." The tide rose periodically very high at Whitehall, and the king in a speech to the House of Commons at the time of the anticipated arrival of Catherine of Braganza, urged the house " to quickly pass such laws that she might not find Whitehall surrounded by water." — Cunningham's /.(7?;i/(7«. Cou.xr 'Ds g%jA^Mo:\r. 191 for the performers, who struck up on a sudden in the midst of these water parties ; sometimes he provided cold collations, which likewise came from France, and surpassed those of the king in the midst of London. These entertainments sometimes exceeded, at others fell short of his expectations, but they always cost him a large amount of mone)'. Lord Falmouth was one of those who had the greatest friendship and esteem for the Chevalier de Gramont. The latter's profusion gave him concern, and as he often used to go and sup with him without ceremony, one day finding only Saint-Evremond there, and supper laid for half a dozen guests, who had been invited in form : "You must not," said he, addressing himself to the Chevalier de Gramont, " be obliged to me for this visit : I come from the king's coucher, where all the talk was about you ; and I can assure you that the manner in which the king spoke of you could not afford you so much pleasure as I myself felt upon the occasion. You know very well, that he has long since offered you his good offices with the King of France ; and for my own part," continued he, smiling, "you know very well that I would solicit him so to do, if I did not fear to lose you as soon as your peace is made ; but thanks to Miss Hamilton, you are in no great haste. However, I am ordered by the king my master to acquaint you, that until you are restored to the favour of your sovereign, he presents you with a pension of fifteen hundred jacobuses."** This is a trifle, considering the figure the Chevalier de Gramont makes -^ The jacobus was worth 25J. 192 •JHE^W^^S OF THE among us," said he, embracing him; "but it will assist him to give us sometimes a supper." The Chevalier de Gramont received, as was fitting, the offer of a favour which he did not think proper to accept. " I recognise," said he, " the king's bounty in this proposal, and still better do I recognise Lord Falmouth's distinctive quality. I request him to assure his majesty of my perfect gratitude. The king my master will not suffer me to want, when he thinks fit to recall me ; and meanwhile I will let you see that I have the wherewithal to give my English friends a supper now and then." At these wcrds, he called for his strong box, and shewed him seven or eight thousand guineas in fine gold. Tord Falmouth, wishing that the refusal of so advan- tageous an offer might turn to the Chevalier's advantage, gave Monsieur de Cominges, then ambassador in England, an account of it ; and Monsieur de Cominges did not fail to represent the merit of such a refusal to the French Court.-" Hyde Park, as everyone knows, is the promenade of London ; nothing was so much in fashion, during the fine weather, as this promenade, which was then the rendezvous of magnificence and beauty. All who had either sparkling eyes, or splendid equipages, constantly -^ The fo]Io\\ing extract from a letter, from the Count de Cominges to Louis XIV., appears to have some reference to this affair : — "London, 10-20 Dec, 1663. *' The Chevalier de Gramont was delighted with the news I gave him, and repeated to me a thousand times that he preferred to serve jour Majesty for nothing than all the kings in the world for all their treasures. He is preparing to take his leave of the sovereign of (Jreat Britain, to whom he is doubtless under great obligations for the gracious manner in which he has been received and treated." ■^. ' J A.. CouiKT Tis g%Jci/o,xT. 193 repaired thither ; and the king seemed pleased with the place.'"' As at that time coaches with glasses had not long been in iise;'^ the ladies disliked shutting themselves up in them. They infinitely preferred the pleasure of shewing almost their whole persons, to the conveniences of modern coaches. That which had been made for the king was not of very elegant appearance, and the Che- valier de Gramont being of opinion that something agreeable might be invented, which should partake of the ancient fashion, and likewise prove preferable to the •*' "Of all parts of England Hyde Park hath the name For coaches and horses and persons of fame. " 0/<^ Ballad ; Roxburgh Collection. " I did frequently, in the spring, accompany my Lord N into a field near the town, which they call Hide Park ; the place not unpleasant, and which they use as our course ; but with nothing of that order, equipage, and splendour ; being such an assembly of wretched jades, and hackney coaches, as, next a regiment of car-men, there is nothing approaches the resemblance. This park was (it seemes) used by the late king and nobility for the freshness of the air, and the goodly prospect ; but it is that which now (besides all other e.Kcises) they pay for here, in England, though it be free in all the world besides ; every coach and horse which enters buying his mouthful, and permission of the publican who has purchased it ; for which the entrance is guarded with porters and long staves." — {A Character of England^ as it was lately presented to a Nobleman of France^ I2mo, 1659, p. 54.) Evelyn says in his Diary that the charge for every coach entering the park was a shilling, and for every horse sixpence. ■*' "I could wish her {i.e. Mary Carleton's) coach (which she said my Lord Taff bought for her in England, and sent it over to her, made of the neK> fashion, ivith glasse, very stately ; and her pages and lacquies were of the same livery), was come for me." — The Ultiniutn Vale of John Carleton, 4to, 1663, p. 23. This Mary Carleton was a notorious impostor, who palmed herself off as a German princess. She subsequently became an actress, and after a course of robbery and fraud, was hanged at Tyburn for stealing a piece of plate from a tavern in Chancery Lane. Lord Taafe, afterwards second Earl of Carlingford, who had presented JNfary Carleton with her glass coach, had an intrigue with iVIiss Warmester, maid of honour to the queen. See vol, ii., P- 74. Pepys tells a story of Lady Peterborough being in one of these newly introduced glass-coaches, the windows of which were up, and being desirous of saluting a lady whom she saw passing in a coach, she ran her head through the glass, the latter being so clear that she thought the window was down. 194 /r r/^/ I COU.\T T)S gi(^^-l^TW:\T. 207 all his remaining tenderness for Lady Castlemaine. For her this \A-as no difficidt undertaking. Intercourse with Lady Castlemaine was disagreeable, from the unpolite- ness of her manners, her ill-timed pride, her uneven temper, and extravagant humours. Lady Chesterfield, on the contrary, knew how to heighten her charms, by all the bewitching attractions of the mind in the power of a woman who wishes to please. Besides all this, she had greater opportunities of making advances to him, than to any other : she lived with the Duke of Ormond, at Whitehall, where Hamilton, as we have said before, had free admittance at all hours. Her extreme coldness, or rather the disgust which she shewed for the returning affection of her husband, awakened the latter's natural inclination to jealousy : he suspected that she could not have so very suddenly passed from anxiety to indifference concerning him, without some secret object of a new attachment ; and, according to the maxims of all jealous husbands, he immediately put in practice all his experience and industry, in view of making a discovery, which would destroy his own happiness. Hamilton, who knew his disposition, was, on the other hand, upon his guard, and the more he advanced in his intrigue, the more attentive he was to remove the slightest suspicion from the earl's mind. He made him the finest but most insincere confidences as to his passion for Lady Castlemaine:* he complained of her ^ Pepys heard from Pierce, the Duke of York's surgeon, that both Hamilton and his brother intrigued with Lady Castlemaine. Diary, Jan. 20, 1663-4. 208 z,'lfS^VOI'\S OF THE tempers, and most earnestly desired his advice how to succeed with a person whose affections he alone had entirely possessed. Chesterfield, who was flattered with this discourse, promised him his protection with greater sincerity than it had been demanded. Hamilton, therefore, was no longer embarrassed save as regards the conduct of Lady Chesterfield, who manifested her graciousness rather too openly, to please him. However, whilst he was discreetly employed in regulating the inclination she expressed for him, and in conjuring her to restrain her glances within bounds, she was receiving those of the Duke of York ; and, what is more, made them favourable returns. Hamilton, like everyone else, thought that he per- ceived this ; but he also thought that everyone else was deceived like himself. How could he trust his own eyes, as to what those of Lady Chesterfield betrayed for this new rival ? He could not think it likely, that a woman of her disposition could have a fancy for a man, whose manners had a thousand times been the subject of their private ridicule ; but what he judged still more improbable was, that she should begin another intrigue before she had given the finishing stroke to the one in which her own advances had engaged her. How- ever, he began to observe her more closely, and dis- covered by dint of observation, that if she was not deceiv- ing him, she at least was very desirous of doing so. He took the liberty of saying a few words to her on the subject ; but she answered him in so high a strain, and treated him so much like a visionary, that he appeared confused without being convinced. All the COU.\T Tie G%,A,Ji€Oyj: 209 satisfaction she would give him was to tell him in a haughty manner, that such senseless reproaches as his ought to have had a better foundation. Lord Chesterfield had taken the same alarm ; nad being convinced, from the observations he had made on his own side, that he had found out the happy lover who had gained possession of his wife's heart, he accepted it as a fact ; and without worrying her with unnecessary reproaches, only waited for an opportunity to confound her, before taking his measures. After all, how can we account for Lady Chesterfield's conduct, unless we attribute it to the disease incident to most coquettes, who, charmed with shining, put every art in practice to rob another of her conquest, and spare nothing to retain it. But before we enter into the particulars of this adven- ture, let us take a glance at the amours of his royal highness, prior to the declaration of his marriage, and particularly of what immediately preceded this declara- tion. It is allowable sometimes to drop the thread of a narrative, when real facts, not generally known, give such a variety to the digression as to render it excusable. Let us see then what will befall this one. APPENDIX TO VOL. I. Note A. Catherine of Braganza landed at Portsmouth on May 14, 1662. Pepys says, "At night, all the bells in the town [London] rung, and bonfires made for the joy of the queen's arrival, who landed at Portsmouth last night. But I do not see much true joy, but only an indifferent one, in the hearts of people, who are much discontented at the pride and luxury of the Court, and running in debt." Evelyn tells us, that " the queen arrived with a train of Portu- guese ladies in their monstrous fardingals or guard-infantas, their complexions olivader, and sufficiently unagreeable. Her majesty in the same habit, her foretop long, and turned aside very strangely. She was yet of the handsomest countenance of all the rest, and, though low of stature, prettily shaped, languishing and excellent eyes, her teeth wronging her mouth by sticking a little too far out ; for the rest lovely enough." The women accompanying Catherine of Braganza were, according to Clarendon, "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 leam the English language, nor use their habit, nor depart from the manners and fashions of her own country in any particulars ; which resolution would be, they told her, 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 212 affS\^LV. offices. She could not be persuaded to be dressed out of the ward- robe that the king had sent to her, but would wear the clothes which she had brought, until she found that the king was dis- pleased, and would be obeyed ; whereupon she conformed, against the advice of her women." — Continuation of Life, p. i68. Reresby, in his Memoirs, SAys : "On May 19, 1662, the king went to receive the infanta at Portsmouth, attended by the greatest Court I ever saw in my progress. liut though upon this occasion everything was gay and splendid, and profusely joyful, it was easy to discern that the king was not excessively charmed with his new bride, who was a very little woman, with a pretty tolerable face ; she neither in person nor manners had any one article to stand in competition with the charms of the Countess of Castlemaine [Charles's then mistress], the finest woman of her age." On the other hand, Lord Clarendon asserts that, " the queen had beauty and wit enough to make herself agreeable to 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." This first meeting of the king with his bride, of which Clarendon speaks, is thus described by Charles himself in a letter to the chancellor : — " Portsmoi/t/i, May 21, eight in the morning. " I arrived here yesterday about two in the morning [evidently the afternoon is intended], and as soon as I had shifted myself I went to my wife's chamber, who I found in bed by reason of a little cough, and some inclination to a fever, which was caused, as we physicians say, by having certain things stopped at sea, which ought to have carried away those humours. But now all is in their due course, and I believe she will find herself very well this morning as soon as she wakes. It was happy for the honour of the nation that I was not put to the consummation of the marriage last night. 1 Avas so sleepy by having slept but two hours on my journey, that I am afraid matters would have gone very sleepily. I can now only give you an account of what I have seen abed. Her face is not so exact as to be called a beauty, though her eyes are excellent good, and not anything in her face that can in the least degree shock one. On the contrary, she has as much agreeableness in her looks as ever I saw ; and if I have any skill in physiognomy, which I think 1 have, she must be as good a woman as ever was born. Her conversation, as much as I can perceive, is very good, for she has wit enough, and a most agreeable ^fTS.ypix. 213 voice. In a word, I think myself very happy ; but I am confident our two humours will agree very well together. I have not time to say any more, &c."— From "The Life of James II., written by himself" (year 1662), in Original Papers, containing the Secret History of Great Britain, &^c., by James Macpherson, vol. i. The royal pair were married privately on May 21, "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." — From James II.'s Journal. Macpherson's Originai Papers, Sir^c, vol. i. On the 29th the bridegroom and bride arrived at Hampton Court ; and on June 2 the lord mayor and aldei-men made their addresses to the queen at Whitehall, and "did present her," says Pepys, " with a gold cup, ^1000 in gold therein." -Secretary Nicholas, in a letter to Lord Rutherford, says of the queen : " She is a very fine lady, and her countenance promises abundance of goodness. The king is exceedingly pleased with her person and conversation, and they are both very happy in each other." {State Papers: domestic: June i, 1662.) Pepys, corrobo- rating the foregoing, uses much the same words : "All people speak of the queen as a very fine and handsome lady, and very discreet, and that the king is pleased enough with her, which I fear will put Madam Castlemaine's nose out of joint." In 1644, when Catherine of Braganza was only seven years old, her father had made overtures to Charles I. in view of her marry- ing the Prince of Wales ; but the proposals were not then enter- tained, on account of her being a Roman Catholic. When the negotiations were renewed after the accession of Charles II., Clarendon favoured the marriage, which Catherine's dowry rendered acceptable to the king. She was to have brought half a million sterling in ready money ; the territory of Tangiers ; the island of Bombay, with free trade in Brazil and the East Indies. The Earl of Sandwich took possession of Tangiers, and then proceeded to Portugal to conduct Catherine to England. The queen-mother. 214 ^fPgJiCD/X however, declared herself unable to pay more than the half of her daughter's dowry, but pledged herself to make up the residue v;ithin the year. The ambassador eventually consented to accept the moiety, and then had the mortification of discovering that instead of being paid in cash, he was to receive the equivalent in bags of sugar, spices, and other merchandize. Finally, he agreed to ship the goods on board the vessels of his fleet as a consignment to some merchant in London, who was to be empowered by the queen regent to take them in bulk, and pay the king the stipulated amount, whilst a bond was to he given by the Portuguese crown for the remainder of the dowry. These negotiations lasting a long time, there was necessarily considerable delay in Catherine's coming to England. M. Barri^re, in La Coiir ei la ViJIe (p. 379), quotes, from a work published at Amsterdam in 171 5, another and singular reason why the departure of the Infanta from Portugal was delayed. It is asserted in this work that the princess, following in common with the rest of her countrywomen a custom derived from the Moors, was clean shaven in a particular part, and that she had to wait until the hair had grown again, in order that the king might not be shocked at the condition in which he found his bride. In a note by Lord Orford to the .Strawberry Hill edition of Gramont's Memoirs there is a similar suggestion. He says : " It was imagined that some change in the person of the princess had to be brought about, and that the delay was needed so that things might return to their natural state. Sir William Davenant referred to the incident one day, at the play, in the king's presence. At that time there were no actresses, and men performed the women's parts. The king becoming impatient at the performance not beginning. Sir W. Davenant said to him : " The queen is being shaved, your majesty." The king was anxious to include Lady Castlemainc among the queen's new attendants, but Pepys heard that Catherine pricked the name out of the list which the king presented to her, " desiring that she might have that favour done her, or that he would send her whence she had come ; and that the king was angry and the queen discontented a whole day and night upon it." The chancellor (Lord Clarendon) had not concealed his disapproval of the king's action with regard to Lady Castlemainc, whereupon Charies wrote him the following very determined note :— " I wish I may be unhappy in this worid and in the world to ^4ffsj^nix. 215 come if I fail in the least degree of what I have resolved, which is of making my l.ady Castlemaine of my wife's bed-chamber ; and whosoever I lind use any endeavours to hinder this resolution of mine, except it be only to myself, I will be his enemy to the last moment of my life. You know how true a friend I have been to you. If you will oblige me eternally, make this business as easy to me as you can, what opinion soever you are of; for I am resolved to go through this matter, let what will come on it, which again I swear before Almighty God : therefore if you desire to have the continuance of my friendship, meddle no more with this business except it be to beat down all false and scandalous reports, and to facilitate what I am sure my honour is so much concerned in ; and whosoever I find to be my Lady Castlemaine's enemy in the matter, I do promise upon my word to be his enemy as long as I live." Clarendon, on the receipt of this missive, sought an interview with Catherine upon this exceedingly delicate subject, but failed com- pletely in inducing her to comply with the king's demands, she declaring with vehemence that rather than submit, she would embark for Lisbon " in any little vessel." The poor young bride was speedily forced to yield, however ; and on September 7 Pepys saw the king and her, and my Lady Castlemaine, and young Crofts, "the king's bastard," [the Duke of Monmouth] seated together in the same coach, and a fortnight afterwards he notes that, " what pleased me best was to see my dear Lady Castlemaine, who though a Protestant, did wait upon the queen to chapel." Note B. "The Duke of Bucks is one that has studied the whole body of vice. His parts are disproportionate to the whole, and like a monster he has more of some, and less of others than he should have. He has pulled down all that nature raised in him, and built himself up again after a model of his own. He has damned up all those lights that nature made into the noblest prospects of the world, and opened other little blind loop-holes backward, by turning day into night, and night into day. His appetite to his pleasures is diseased and crazy, like the pica in a woman, that longs to eat that which was never made for food, or a girl in the green sickness, that eats chalk and mortar. Perpetual surfeits of pleasure have filled his mind with bad and vicious humours (as - ; -^ t .r; ' -'-^^Z