MEMOIRS OF THE
COURT OF ENGLAND
IN 1675
BY
MARIE CATHERINE
BARONNE D'AULNOY
TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL FRENCH BY
MRS. WILLIAM HENRY ARTHUR
EDITED REVISED AND WITH ANNOTATIONS
INCLUDING AN ACCOUNT OF LUCY WALTER
EVIDENCE FOR A BRIEF FOR THE DEFENCE
BY
GEORGE DAVID GILBERT
LONDON : JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK : JOHN LANE COMPANY
TORONTO : BELL AND COCKBURN MCMXIII ^\
-*"* ***** ^^
_A
INTRODUCTION
MARIE CATHERINE LE JUMELLE DE BERNEVILLE was
born, according to the Biographie Universelle and
kindred publications, about 1655, which would make
her twenty years old when the material was collected
for the present work. 1 She must have been older than
this. These are not the observations of sweet and
twenty, even when sweet and twenty is a French
woman and married, and a daughter of the precocious
seventeenth century to boot.
Although Marie Catherine's Autobiography exists,
the difficulty of constructing an account of her
life is so great as to render it an almost impossible
task. Madame Carey, who edited a French edition
of her Travels into Spain and her Memoirs of the Court
of Spain, contented herself, in her footnotes, with com-
menting on the work in hand, while Lady Ritchie, who
apparently was not aware of the Memoires de la Cour
cFAngleterre, is mainly occupied, in her interesting
introduction to an arrangement of the Fairy Tales, by
an appreciation of the Travels into Spain, a work
with which she fell obviously in love.
There being no other source than the Autobio-
graphy, there are a few scrappy anecdotes about
Marie Catherine's friends, and her husband, but
1 M. August Jal in his Dictionnaire Biographie (quoted further on)
says she was born as early as 1650-1, but gives no authority for the
statement.
vii
INTRODUCTION
nothing about herself, I give a resume of it leaving it
to the reader to estimate its value.
Though it has neither dates nor localities, nor
references, and all the persons who figure in it must be
under the disguise of alias, for not one have I been
able to trace, yet, judging from the writer's other
work, it is quite possible the main text is absolute fact.
Marie Catherine was well descended both on her
father's and mother's side, she tells us. " But it was
the first of my misfortunes that I was born too soon,
for my mother was hardly arrived to sixteen years of
age when she lay in with me, and because she was too
young to let a daughter grow up with her at home,
that would have kept the Hand of the Dyal standing
long at sixteen," the child was sent to her grandmother
in the country. It seems to us that Marie Catherine
is rather unfair to her mother in this comment, for it
was the almost universal custom of the era, and that
particularly in France, for people of the smallest
standing to send children out to nurse in the first years
of their life.
For a decade Marie Catherine, who continued with
her grandmother, held undisputed sway as the heiress
of her family. Nor did her guardian fail, to make it
" her business to infuse into me on the score of my
birth and beauty, all the vanity and pride she had been
guilty of herself. ... I learned I was fair, and
destined to the most noble and elevated pretensions.
With these fancies I was flattered all along, and when
I had already attained eleven years my mother was
brought to bed of a boy."
A great change immediately took place in the cir-
cumstances and prospects of the erstwhile heiress.
Her grandmother transferred all her interest and
affection to the newcomer, while his sister learned with
dismay that her parents had declared their intention
viii
INTRODUCTION
of incarcerating her in a convent. Her father came
to see her. She implored of him, " the only person
for whom still I preserved some little affection," to
save her from this fate, but he, though weeping over
her misfortunes, could offer no better consolation than
a counsel of surrender, promising that the confinement
should be but temporary, and that he would do his
utmost to find her a husband.
Despite her gloomy anticipations, little Marie
Catherine was very happy in her convent life, though
she accuses the good sisters of praising and flattering
her, and asserts that their instruction was trivial and
superficial. The pupils, she tells us, did much as they
liked, and read what they chose, which is hardly the
accepted idea of the training of youth in the young
days of le roi soleil, for though the nuns may have been
worldly and frivolous, it is usually thought their pupils
were most strictly marshalled.
" The reading of romances," continues the Auto-
biography, " brought me to reflect on things of which
till then I had a confused and imperfect apprehension.
By reading them I learnt there was a Passion that gave
to women an absolute dominion over men."
The next step was to give these reflections practical
form ; and this thirteen year old damsel, actually got
into correspondence with a man whose acquaintance
she had made while still living in the world. She calls
him the Marquis de Blossac though no such title is
to be found in any French peerage. Her method was
to copy passionate love letters from the romances and
novels to which she had access, and Blossac, as she
frankly admits, at first amused at her precocity, came
to see her. Other stolen meetings followed, and the
cavalier, whose conduct was most reprehensible, was so
piqued and interested by the novel combination of
extreme youth and fervent passion, that he became, or
ix
INTRODUCTION
Marie Catherine thought he did, seriously engaged.
She admits that at the time she was utterly ignorant,
and had not the remotest conception of the meaning
of the amorous phrases that she wrote, or that fell so
glibly from her lips, it was merely a case of flattered
vanity at the conquest. M. de Blossac, who no doubt
considered the intrigue a capital joke, continued to be
assiduous in his attentions, and Marie Catherine's
emotions soon ripened into a severe attack of calf love.
It must be remembered that a girl of thirteen of
two hundred and fifty years ago was the equal in
maturity of outlook to a girl of sixteen or even older
of to-day.
The nuns were evidently less preoccupied than
Marie Catherine gives them credit for. Before long
everything was discovered, and, worse, some of the
most fervent of her hopeful charge's letters reached the
severe eye of the Mother Superior ! Her indignation
was only rivalled by that of Marie Catherine's own
mother. The climax of it all was that M. de Blossac,
probably alarmed, broke off the acquaintance. The
scandal and disgrace of the affair evidently pressed on
Marie Catherine's mind, so much that, as she grew
older, and realised better how unwisely she had
behaved, she decided to take the veil, and at fifteen
departed for another convent, there to enter on a
novitiate and start life anew.
Almost immediately she was visited by her father,
who had reasons of his own for endeavouring to
persuade her to abandon her determination. Her
mother, on the other hand, was just as eager as her
father was unwilling that the girl should be kept
sequestered from the world. M. de Berneville, who
went in mortal dread of his wife, confided to his
daughter, as a profound secret, that he had a husband
ready to espouse her, but even this would not tempt
INTRODUCTION
Marie Catherine from her decision. She still possessed
a lingering attachment for the errant Blossac ; and one
of the motives influencing her was the sentimental
hope that when he knew she was lost to him for ever,
he might at last regret the foolish and romantic child
he had so callously abandoned.
But Marie Catherine's father was a desperate man ;
it was essential to him that his daughter should return
to the world. Having one day obtained leave of the
Mother Superior to walk for a while in the garden with
the girl he led her to a secluded part and at a signal
from him she found herself seized by three masked
men who placed her in a coach, becomingly equipped
with a duenna, the vehicle driving off at a gallop.
One of these men was the husband designed by the
father : Francois de le Mothe, Sieur d'Aulnoy, 1 or
Aunoy, the Biographic Universelle tells us. Marie
Catherine adds the particulars that he was the son of
a councillor of the Parliament of his Province and that
the latter " not having any inclination to the law, had
purchased a very great lordship with the intention of
getting it erected into a marquisate." 2 This, by the
influence of Marie Catherine's father, he had achieved,
and the latter in turn had fallen deeply in his debt.
The marriage between their children, which was forth-
with celebrated, was to expunge this debt. From the
first it was most unhappy. The young wife ran away,
taking refuge in a convent. Her husband sent for her
father, and together they went in pursuit, compelling
her to return home. Undaunted by this, when near
her first confinement, she declared to her husband that
her mother had invited her to Paris for her expected
1 An ancient house of Il'le de France sprung from the nobles of
Orville and of Chevre Ricardre. Lalanne's Dictionnaire historique de
France, vol. 12, p. 148.
8 This is certainly a fiction.
XI
INTRODUCTION
where she concealed herself under a catafalque that had
been erected for a funeral.
Madame d'Aulnoy's literary activities under the
pen-names of Dunnois and of Mme. D were very
great. In addition to the fairy stories by which she
is best known, The Blue Bird, The Hind in the
Wood, and, dearest of all, The White Cat of our
youth, she was the author of a large number of semi-
historical novels and tales, some of which deal with
English history. At that period Sheridan's oft mis-
applied phrase, " Scandal about Queen Elizabeth," was
still in the womb of Time, but had it emerged to
life, it is to be doubted if it would have restrained
Marie Catherine's lively pen ! She was also the com-
piler of certain chroniques scandaleuses dealing with
people of her own time. It would be interesting to
know if her " Memoirs of the Duke and Duchess of
O " 1 (Orleans), a work well known to Dumas,
are as accurate as her account of the Court of that
ill-starred lady's brother, now presented.
A good deal of Madame d'Aulnoy's work, we regret
to have to state it, first saw light in the Netherlands, the
headquarters of the daring publisher of the time, both
for books of an enduring form and for periodicals. In
the later years of the reign of Louis XIV. the " Holland
Gazettes " crystallised the scandal of Europe. It was
while in voluntary exile at the Hague, with this press
at her disposal, that the Duchess of Marlborough
threatened Queen Anne with the publication of all her
letters. 2
1 We have only seen this work in the English translation.
2 Who can forget Prince Paul's pathetic plaint in the " Grand
Duchess of Gerolstein " ?
"... Voila ce que 1'on dit de moi
Voila ce que 1'on dit
Dans la gazette de Hollande, oui."
XIV
INTRODUCTION
Of modern reprints, the Fairy Tales retain their
popularity, editions appearing at regular intervals,
beside the inclusion of the biggest favourites in
innumerable collections, and Madame Carey, as has
been stated, edited with commendable industry,
the Travels into Spain* This work, unlike the
Memoires de la Cour cPAngleterre, is autobiographical
in form. It has been reprinted many times, without
notes or arrangement. About fifty years ago it was
translated into Spanish.
In her Autobiography Madame d'Aulnoy mentions
marriage with St. Albe, but this must be an euphemism.
She appears to have only had one husband, though it
is openly stated that her children were not all his.
The last was born in 1676, the result of her mother's
experience at the Court of Saint James, and possibly
of the fascinations of the Duke of Buckingham which
so completely impressed her. There is no record of
either the English arrival, presence or departure of the
ladies Aulnoy and Gudaigne. The date of the former's
return to France is not known. M. Jal says she died in
Paris on January 17, 1705, at her house in the Rue St.
Benoit. He gives a list of her six children. One of
her daughters also wrote fairy stories. According to
the Autobiography, which breaks off abruptly some
thirty-five years before, the brother of Madame
d'Aulnoy did not live to grow up and after all she
inherited the family wealth. The portrait now repro-
duced is the frontispiece to the Memoirs of the Duke
and Duchess of O : it is younger and more pleasing
than the better-known likeness in the costume of the
sixteen-nineties. There is a full-length woodcut in
the Magasin Pittoresque, 1870, p. 68. It is described
as from a contemporary print, but appears to be
spurious.
1 La Cour et la ville de Madrid, Toms 2, Paris 1874-76.
XV
INTRODUCTION
To come to the present work. Familiar to students
it has been described as an imitation of Anthony
Hamilton's Memoirs of the Count de Grammont. 1
If such a question is raised the situation is just the
reverse, for Madame d'Aulnoy's Memoires appeared in
1694-95, and the first edition of " de Grammont "
did not see the light till as late as 1713, nearly twenty
years after. The long neglect of the present work in
its entirety (it is frequently quoted from), can only be
accounted for by the intense difficulty in identifying
the principal people.
My enquiries into the career of Lucy Walter was the
cause of my first introduction to Madame d'Aulnoy,
and I subsequently commenced a translation, never
completed, merely for the entertainment of a friend,
also interested in Lucy. But I made no effort
to identify the people, and jumped to the
conclusion that Emilie indicated Henrietta Went-
worth ! Sometime after I met the book again, and
my mother, who assisted me in deciphering some of
the more complicated passages, was, apart from her
entertainment, as impressed as I was by the writer's gay
treatment of the most hackneyed situation, the work
has something of the fresh sparkle of a favourite cham-
pagne, something of the swing and gaiety of Mozart's
operas. Eventually we decided together to put an
English version on paper. The task provided us with
delightful employment for the still evenings of a mid-
Sussex winter. While my mother dictated, and I
transcribed, the twentieth century was forgotten, and
Whitehall in the Golden Days seemed to flicker before
1 The name originally Agramunt subsequently Agramont and
Grammont, now Gramont, is spelled Grammont in the first (1713)
edition of the famous Memoires so we retain it here. The etymology
of the name is argued at length in the Vizetelly edition 1889, vol. i,
p. 2, Note.
XVI
INTRODUCTION
our vision with the impalpable, transitory reality of
pictures thrown upon a screen. No Restoration play
is more vivid than this book. And what adds to its
charm is that though the morals are of the time, the
manners are irreproachable, and there is not one sen-
tence that is indelicate. This is more than can be
said of Hamilton's sprightly masterpiece. Again and
again the thought was forced upon us : what a libretto
for Mozart might have been constructed from this
work ! Picture, for one instant, his treatment of the
scene in the Duenna's chamber at Saint-James's, of
Buckingham in the wood, of Miledy ... in the gallery,
and reflect on what musical delight the world has lost.
The translation completed, revised, and divided into
chapters, in the original, the narrative is continuous,
the next step was to identify the four ladies, for
which purpose a list of the clues was compiled. 1 It
was not until this stage was reached that I found there
already existed an English version, published 1708. It
is obviously the work of some hack writer, who was not
in sympathy with his subject. The style is so col-
loquial, as to be almost incomprehensible, owing to the
use of so many obsolete terms and words. Few people
care to wrestle with seventeenth century French if they
can get any sort of translation, and no doubt the
majority of English persons, consulting these
" Memoires " at the British Museum, have chosen to
obtain their knowledge in this rough and ready trans-
lation of which it is impossible to make head or tail.
The French original, while disguising the ladies, gives
all the men's names in full, but in the English version
this is not so, they are merely indicated by a dash.
The visit of the Prince of Neuburg in the summer
1 Mme. d'Aulnoy has a most undeserved reputation for inaccuracy.
It will be seen that the notes corroborate every statement that she makes,
even to tiny detail.
b xvii
INTRODUCTION
of 1675 fixes the period roughly. Our author, sacri-
ficing fact to interest, takes a fiction-writer's privilege
of compressing into two or three days, what were
probably the actual observations of some months. 1 At
the request of Mr. Lane I have reluctantly deleted the
delightful phonetic spelling of the proper names in the
original French : Vitheal (Whitehall), Bouquinkam
(Buckingham), Amtoncour (Hampton Court), d'Evin-
chier (Devonshire), Scherosberry (Shrewsbury), Rich-
mont (Richmond), and Nelle Cuin ; though such
spelling is retained in the translation of J. J. Jusserand's
English Ambassador at the Court of Charles 11.
The original capitals and ampersands are preserved.
It remains for me to give the clues that led to the
identification of the leading women of the work. I am
quite open to correction in my conclusions.
EMILIE MOLL KIRKE
ClueS page
She came to Court before the death of Arran's wife 68
She was in mourning in 1675 69
Generally : she was a frivolous, graceless, little pussy cat.
She was in love with the Duke of Monmouth.
The character of Emilie exactly accords with that of
Moll Kirke, who, we are told in the Memoirs of
Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, was the cause of the
preliminary estrangement between Monmouth and his
uncle. The mourning clinches this, Moll Kirke's
father having died April 6, 1675.
FILADELPHE MARGARET BLAGGE
Clues
page
Was older by some years than " Emilie " 75
Was delicate 75
Was " prim " 284
Generally was in love with the Duke of Monmouth.
1 Grammont's chronology is often inaccurate by years !
xv in
INTRODUCTION
This was not so easy as " Emilie," for, sad to relate,
few young ladies attached to either the Queen or the
Duchess had a reputation for propriety ! Had the
Memoires concerned the Courts of the first George
or his son, the character would fit the prudish Miss
Meadows, whom Pope never wearied of assailing, like
a glove. But they deal with a more attractive period.
As against this identification it is only fair to add
that Margaret Blagge was married on May 15, 1675,
and had left the York household upon the death of
Anne Hyde. She had, however, temporarily returned
to it the previous winter, and, the famous masque of
Calisto, performed by ladies only, taking place at that
time, she had enacted the role of Diana. 1 There is no
other lady amongst those in the service of the Duchess
of York whose character so closely accords with
Filadelphe as does that of Margaret Blagge.
DONA MARIA DE MENDOSA ( ? )
Of Dona Maria I have little to add to what is
recorded in the notes on pp. 256 and 263. As given
below, the ubiquitous Anthony Hamilton confirms
unconsciously his fair contemporary. It may be
objected that he places the incident some ten years
earlier than she does but, as we have already noticed,
his chronology is much more faulty than hers. The
Comte de Grammont returned to France with his
bride, la Belle Hamilton, in 1663, but they paid
periodic visits to England, presumably to visit her
people. M. de Grammont, resuming his acquaintance
with the Restoration Court, confused what he subse-
quently saw, with his initial experiences. Hence his
allusions to Nell Gwyn, who did not come to White-
1 It is more than probable it was Mme. d'Aulnoy's thrice enviable
privilege to witness that masque.
xix
INTRODUCTION
hall till 1667-68. In 1663 s ^ e was ^ ut eleven years
old.
" Amongst the men " (who accompanied Catherine
of Braganga to England) was " one Taurauvedez, who
called himself Don Pedro Francisco Correo de Silva,
extremely handsome but a greater fool than all the
Portuguese put together : he was more vain of his
name than of his person ; but the Duke of Buckingham,
a still greater fool than he, though more addicted to
raillery, gave him the additional name of Peter of the
Wood. He was so enraged at this that after many
fruitless complaints and ineffectual menaces, poor
Pedro de Silva was obliged to leave England, while the
happy Duke kept possession of a Portuguese nymph
more hideous than the Queen's maids of honour whom
he had taken from him." 1 Later allusion is made to
Buckingham forgetting his Portuguese mistress when
endeavouring to ingratiate himself with Frances
Stewart. It will be observed that it is distinctly
stated above that the " Portuguese nymph " was not
in the household of the Queen nor is anything said of
her taking violent methods to rid herself of her earlier
lover.
LA CONTESSE DE - JANE, DUCHESS OF NORFOLK (Countess of
Norwich)
Clues
page
She had such an unusual Christian name that her
brother-in-law had the utmost difficulty in finding
her patron saint 145
She was Arran's " good cousin " 140
She had a sister 33, 34, 143
Her title commenced with a consonant, she is not d*.
She was in Tunbridge Wells with Mary, Duchess of
Richmond in the autumn of 1672. Chs. xxiii
and xxiv
1 Hamilton's Memoirs of the Comte de Grammont.
XX
INTRODUCTION
page
She gambled 161
She could not have been Lady Chesterfield, as the Duke
of Ormonde, the latter's father, made love to her 146, 165, 166
Generally : she was Buckingham's mistress and she was
in love with the Duke of Monmouth
I identified this lady as follows : Observing her
described as Arran's " good cousin," I made a list of
his cousins who were countesses, but they all proved so
nearly related, that it was impossible for his father to
have made love to any of them. Noting that Arran
called Buckingham " uncle " when he was only uncle
to his wife, nee Lady Mary Stuart, I proceeded to
investigate her countess cousins. The only one, whose
dates at all fitted in, was Lady Norwich. This lady's
title commenced with a consonant. Mary Duchess of
Richmond, mother of Lady Arran, was Lady Norwich's
husband's aunt by marriage, and was very likely to
visit her at Tunbridge Wells (or elsewhere) though
there is no record preserved, locally, of such visit. In
1672 there existed but one St. Jane, and she was but a
minor saint. Further particulars are given in the
notes.
MILEDY . . . ? Probably Katherine Crofts
Clues page
She once had a love-affair with Henry Jermyn, Earl of St.
Albans, but threw him over for the sake of Richard,
Earl of Arran 83
She was very thin and ugly I54> X 57
She had a nom seule. She may have been Lady , as Lady
Bellasys the wife of a baronet or knight rather than of
OO
a peer
She had apartments at Whitehall 73
Generally : there is no mention of a husband, she was no
longer young, perhaps about thirty-five but witty and
interesting
XXI
INTRODUCTION
That St. Albans succumbed to the indiscretion of
an amour after the Restoration we know from St.
Evremond. On pages 308-310 of the 1728 translation
of his works an epistle appears rebuking one who
" could not endure that the Earl of St. Albans should
be in love in his old age." To St. Albans himself
St. Evremond a little earlier wrote as follows : 1
" I will say nothing to you of Mistress Crofts, since she
has been Duchess of Chastellerault (sic) I can't tell
how she will behave towards the Earl of St. Albans."
To the name of the lady the translator (Pierre Des-
maireaux) appends the following note. " Mistress
Crofts, sister to the Lord Crofts, had been one of the
maids of honour to the Queen. After she retired from
Court her house became a Pleasurable Rendesvous
where the Earl of St. Albans and two or three more
persons of Quality used to sup almost every night.
The Earl of Arran afterwards Duke of Hamilton paid
assiduous court to this Lady whereupon the Earl of
St. Albans withdrew. M. de St. Evremond in this
place rallies the new intrigue calling Mistress Crofts
Duchess of Chastellerault because the Earl of Arran
had been in France to pursue an old claim of the
House of Hamilton to the Duchy of Chastellerault."
Everything points to confusion on the part of the
writer of this note. It is extremely improbable that
the Earl of Arran, subsequently Duke of Hamilton,
was ever the rival of St. Albans, who was well over
fifty years his senior, or that they ever frequented,
intimately, the same society. James Hamilton, styled
till 1698 Earl of Arran, was born on April n, 1658,
and slain in a duel with Lord Mohun in 1712. He was
the eldest son of Anne, niece and heiress of the second
Duke of Hamilton, who died of wounds received at the
Battle of Worcester. His father was William Douglas
1 Memoirs of the Comte de Grammont, p. 242.
xxii
INTRODUCTION
Earl of Selkirk, who at the Restoration was on the
petition of his wife, created Duke of Hamilton for life.
After his death, in 1694, the Duchess resigned her titles
in favour of their son, James, Earl of Arran. He was
educated in Glasgow and did not come south till 1679
when he was appointed gentleman of the bedchamber.
Lord Arran first visited France (as envoy) in 1683. It
is next to impossible that two Earls of Arran should
have been rival to St. Albans and everything supports
Mme. d'Aulnoy's contention that it was the elder one,
Richard Butler. Writing at a distance of fifty years
St. Evremond's editor took the allusion to the Duchy
of Chastellerhault literally. It was probably a con-
temporary jest, for the two Earls of Arran existing at
the same time must have given rise to many comments.
James Hamilton was the only Duke of Hamilton to
claim to be Due de Chastellerhault, but I believe he
did not seriously advance this pretension till the reign
of Queen Anne.
Though the major part of the clues as given above
may be applied to Mistress Crofts, I do not consider her
identity with Miledy ... so absolutely established
as to admit of the insertion of the latter's name in
the text. Katherine Crofts was b. 1637 anc * <*
unmarried in 1686. After the Restoration she re-
ceived from Secret Service money the considerable
income of ^1500, a sum worth four times that amount
in modern currency. 1 There is no record of her
having acted as maid-of-honour to either Henrietta or
Catherine, 2 but she was high in the Royal confidence,
1 Camden Society, vol. Hi. Money's . . . Secret Service . . . Charles II.
&c. 1851.
2 Katherine's eldest sister Elizabeth Lady CornwalHs, was in France
in 1645, " probably in the service of the queen." The second sister
Hester, Lady Poley, had a daughter Judith who in 1678 married
St. Alban's nephew Henry Jermyn, afterwards Lord Dover. There
were three half-sisters but even the youngest (and there is nothing to
xxiii
INTRODUCTION
her big annuity being apparently the reward for some
part played in the early days of Monmouth. Accord-
ing to the contemporary Memoirs of Thomas Earl
of Ailesbury, 1 a Mrs. Crofts had lodgings at White-
hall u where the King used to go often and I take it
she had been governess to the Duke." This authority
states that it was in Mrs. Crofts' apartments that the
King and his son were reconciled in the autumn of
1683. Fea identifies her with Katherine. 2 Madame
d'Aulnoy describes Miledy ... as a grand dame (see
Note, p. 4), and although Mistress Crofts had not the
title ascribed to Miledy ... it would seem she occupied
an unique situation at Court. Two years the senior of
Richard, Earl of Arran and associated in exile with
St. Albans, in 1675 she was thirty-eight, just the age
Miledy . . ., still attractive though " no longer young "
might have been. If any reader cares to favour me with
suggestions which may lead to the completion of these
identifications I shall much appreciate such kindness.
Mr. Lane upon accepting the MS. of this
work asked me to supply some further particulars
of Lucy Walter. I told him of the paper I had pre-
pared, as the result of my enquiry into her life and he
has permitted me to include it as an Appendix. 3
C^ T^ C~*
WENTWORTH HOUSE,
KEYMER, SUSSEX,
August ^th, 1912.
show they were ever at Court) must have been a good ten years the
senior of James Earl of Arran. The Rev. S. Hervey's Little Saxham,
and West Stow.
1 Roxburgh Club, pp. 81-2, 1890.
2 King Monmouth , p. 179. There were two rooms off the Stone
Gallery at Whitehall ascribed to Lord Crofts, and these may have been
those occupied by his sister. He was a married man, and had a house in
Spring Gardens. Sheppard's Old Royal Palace of Whitehall,
Cunningham's Handbook of London.
8 The kind assistance I have received in this connection is acknow-
ledged elsewhere.
xxiv
INTRODUCTION
We beg to offer our grateful thanks to His Grace the
Duke of Portland, K.G., for having the miniature of
the Earl of Arran especially photographed for this
work ; to the Marquess of Bristol for so kindly sanc-
tioning the reproduction of the portrait of Lady
Betty Felton ; to the Marquess of Ormonde, K.P., for
the interest he has taken in the annotator's prolonged
endeavour to identify Miledy . . . ; to Lady Gilbert
for authorising the dedication ; to the Rev. S. H. A.
Hervey for an interesting correspondence on several
points raised in the notes; to the Rev. J. Willcock, D.D.,
B.D., for the loan of the block of the Argyle portrait
reproduced facing page 176 ; to Mr. S. M. Ellis for his
innumerable kindnesses and constant interest. He has
supplied several valuable notes ; they are indicated by
the initial E. ; to Lieutenant-Colonel Prideaux, C.S.I.,
for a most valuable reference for the account of Madame
d'Aulnoy. And to these must be added the names of
the Marquis de Ruivigny et Raneval; Mr. A. R.
Bailey ; the Rev. Dr. Callow, M.A. ; Mr. Frederick
Chapman ; Mrs. Chichester ; Miss Lilias Campbell
Davidson; the Rev. Canon Edgar Shepperd, D.D.,
C.V.O., Dean of the Chapels Royal ; Professor C. H.
Firth, F.S.A. ; Miss Rose Frowd ; Mr. F. G. Grant,
Rothesay Herald ; Mr. S. G. Hamilton ; Miss E. J.
Hastings ; the Rev. E. G. Hutchinson ; Mr. T. W.
Jackson, Keeper of the Sutherland Collection ; Mr.
Andrew Lang ; Miss A. E. Mitchell ; Mr. L. R. M.
Strachan ; Mrs. Townsend.
LUCRETIA ARTHUR.
G. D. GILBERT.
xxv
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION v
MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF ENGLAND i
APPENDIX A. LUCY WALTER 343
APPENDIX B. BRAWLING AT COURT 426
APPENDIX C. LORD OXFORD AND THE ACTRESS 428
BIBLIOGRAPHY 433
INDEX 434
XXVll
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
MARIE CATHERINE LE JUMELLE DE BERNEVILLE, BARONNE D'AULNOY
Frontispiece
RICHARD, EARL OF ARRAN 10
From a miniature by S. Cooper at Welbcck Abbey
ANNA, COUNTESS OF BUCCLEUGH, DUCHESS OF MONMOUTH AND
BUCCLEUCH 26
From a print in the British Museum
" EMILIE " MARY KIRKE 68
From a mezzotint after Lely in the possession of the Editor
HENRY, EARL OF ST. ALBANS 82
From an engraving by Striven after Fan Dyck in the possession
of the Editor
GEORGE, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM (as a young man) 108
From a print after Van Dyck in the British Museum
MARY, DUCHESS OF RICHMOND AND LENOX 1 12
From an engraving by Hollar after Van Dyck in private hands
JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH AND BUCCLEUCH 135
From a mezzotint painting by Wissing at Dalkeith
ARCHIBALD, EARL OF ARGYLE 176
From the miniature at Windsor Castle reproduced in A Scots Earl
in Covenanting Times, by kind permission of Dr. Willcock
JANE, COUNTESS OF NORWICH 184
From a mezzotint by Collin after Lely
JANE LONG 234
From a mezzotint by Thomson after Lely (in private hands')
THE LADY ELIZABETH FELTON 284
From a miniature at Ickworth
xxix
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
" FlLADELPHE," MARGARET BLAGGE 296
From an engraving by Humphreys of the -painting at Wootton
WILLIAM DUKE OF NEWCASTLE, WITH HIS DUCHESS (MARGARET
LUCAS) 320
From a -print by A. Eenge in the British Museum
THEIR MAJESTIES KING CHARLES II AND QUEEN CATHERINE OF
BRAGANZA (receiving a presentation in 1676) 333
From an engraving by Hollar from Oglivy's Survey of London
" MlLEDY . . ." 34 2
From the " extra " -plate to Anthony a Wood's Antiquitates
Universitatis Oxoniensis
XXX
MEMOIRS OF THE COURT
OF ENGLAND
CHAPTER I
IT is true, my dear Cousin, that the sojourn
that I made in London, & the friendship that
was extended to me there by the Duchess of
Richmond & Madam Hyde, enabled me to know,
having learned the truth from them, the secret and
interesting history of the Court of England. One
of these Ladies is married l to the Duke of Richmond
& Lenox who hath the honour to be a near relation of
the King ; she is the sister of the Duke of Buckingham
and one may say that never hath there been a more
beautiful person, or one whose appearance was grander
or more noble.
Madam Hyde was sister in law through her husband
to the old Duchess of York, Daughter of the Chancellor
of England, 2 an alliance which brought her many
distinctions. She was very worthy of them all.
My lord Hyde is at present 3 Earl of Rochester 4
1 It should be he " was formerly married to ." See Note, p.
in.
2 The ' old ' Duchess of York, the mother of Queens Anne and
Mary, was but thirty-two years of age when she died !
Anne Hyde, eldest daughter of the famous Sir Edward Hyde first
Earl of Clarendon, was secretly married to the Duke of York (1633-1701)
at Breda, 24th of November 1659. '^ ie marriage was publicly acknow-
ledged some eleven months later. The duchess died March 31, 1671.
Burke.
3 I.e., in 1695, when the book was published.
4 Laurence Hyde, second son of Clarendon, b. 1641, d. 171 1. Created
Earl of Rochester 1681, m. 1665 Henrietta, daughter of Richard Boyle,
first Earl of Burlington. She died April 12, 1687.
A I
MEMOIRS OF THE
You know the Duchesse de Mazarin 1 well enough to
realise that she is one of the most amiable people in
the world. Her House was ever the rendezvous of all
that then was illustrious and notable in London. I
went there frequently. Every one recited stories ;
they played ; they made good cheer, and the days
passed like moments.
Monsieur de Saint Evremond 2 had been the friend
of my Father & it pleased him to become mine. I also
knew the Dukes of Monmouth & of Buckingham, the
Earls of Saint Albans & Cavendish whom I had often
seen at my house in Paris. Our Ambassador, Monsieur
de Barillon 3 was one of my friends ; Dom Pedro
Ronquillo 4 Ambassador of Spain, & Comte Thun,
Envoy of the Emperor, came to see me : the intimacy
that I had with so many people of birth & merit gave
me an opportunity to hear a thousand interesting
things of which I made note, and, as you ask me, I now
put them in order.
It is true that I have not been able to name all the
Ladies of whom I speak, being afraid to injure some
of them ; but there are some I do name with the
idea of the truths I tell in their favour recompensing )
in part, for what their enemies have said against them'
1 Hortense de Mancini (1645-1708), m. 1661 the Marquis Milleirage
afterwards Due de Mancini. This beautiful femme galante was the
favourite niece, and principal heir of Cardinal Mazarin.
2 Charles de Margroetel de Saint Denis de Saint Evremond, soldier
and poet, i6i3(?)-iyo3.
3 Paul Barillon d'Amoncourt, Marquis de Branges, Seigneur de
Mancy, de Moranges et de Chatillon-sur-Marne, Conseiller d'Etat
ordinaire, Ambassador Extraordinary to the Court of St. James
1677-1 688 ^ when the Prince of Orange on his arrival in London
ordered him at twenty-four hours' notice to quit the country.
d. July 23, 1691.
* Pedro de Ronquillo, Duke of Grainedo, Spanish Ambassador to
the Court of St. James from March 1675 to Tuesday, July 20, 1691,
when he expired.
COURT OF ENGLAND
One could not have known the Duke of Mon-
mouth : 1 and have refused to praise him. He was, of
all men of fashion, the best made ; in his face was a
character & grandeur such as was worthy of his Birth ;
his bravery amounted to intrepidity, and when he
served in France and other Foreign Countries, every
one was agreed that the valour he displayed could not
be surpassed. 2 The care lavished on his education had
1 James, favourite son of King Charles II.,wai born, on the authority
of his Heroick Life (1683) at Rotterdam in 1649 an ^ executed
without trial on Tower Hill on St. Swithin's Day, July 15, 1685.
His creation as Baron Tyndale, Earl of Doncaster, and Duke of Monmouth.
took place I4th February 1663. His dignities were attainted in 1685.
His grandson obtained the restoration of the Barony and the Earldom
in 1743. See Appendix A.
2 A characteristic illustration confirming this statement occurred at
the Siege of Maastricht.
" In the month of April 1673 the Duke of Monmouth left England
and on his arrival at the French Court was appointed Lieutenant-General.
At the end of the same month he left Paris with the squadron of Life
Guards. . . . The army marched towards Msestricht and on the
seventh of June invested the town. . . . Lines of circumvallation were
formed, with bridges of communication over the Maese, above and
below the city. The King (of France) had his quarters at a place called
Onwater ; the Duke of Orleans occupied the side of the Wick ; and the
Duke of Monmouth, with eight thousand horse and foot, invested the
lower side of the city. On the I7th of June the trenches were opened,
and on the 24th the Duke of Monmouth led a detachment with such
invincible courage against the counterscarp that he soon carried it,
and advancing to the outward half -moon, which was before the Brussels
gate, after a brisk dispute of about half an hour, he won that also,
although the besieged during the time sprang two mines. On the follow-
ing day another mine was sprung by the enemy, which blew a Captain,
Ensign, and sixty soldiers into the air ; then making a furious sally on
the troops who had relieved the men under his Grace's command,
and who now occupied the outward half -moon and counterscarp,
drove them back with great slaughter. Whereupon the undaunted
Monmouth, unwilling to lose what he had but the day before purchased
with so much hazard, and such unheard-of courage, drew his sword,
and with Captain Churchill and twelve private gentlemen of the Life
Guards, who volunteered to accompany him, leaped over the trenches ;
then, regardless of a shower of bullets from the enemy, rushed through
3
MEMOIRS OF THE
found in him a subject that had already received from
Nature all the most favourable graces ; he danced so
marvellously that one could not witness it without
regarding him in admiration. 1 Never was a man more
gallant, and his heart was ever divided between love
and honour. But one must admit that he was too
ambitious, and this passion eventually engaged him in
a guilty enterprise for which an unhappy death was
the just recompense.
It would have been strange had his heart not been
susceptible to the most tender impressions, for he was
the son of Charles II., King of England. Although
that Prince had several Mistresses, he never had one
who was so dearly loved as Mademoiselle Barlow, 2
Mother of the Duke of Monmouth. Her beauty was
so perfect that when the King saw her in Wales where
she was, he was so charmed &, ravished & enamoured
that in the misfortunes which ran through the first
years of his Reign he knew no other sweetness or joy
than to love her, & be loved by her. 3 The surroundings
one of their sally-ports, and with incredible speed passed along the
works, within twenty yards of their pallisades, until he met the
soldiers flying before the enemy. The arrival of the Duke with his
followers inspired the troops with fresh valour, and they now turned
round upon their pursuers. The heroic Monmouth and Churchill,
with the Life Guards, who cast aside their carbines and drew their swords,
now led the troops they had rallied to the charge with such invincible
courage, that they drove back the Dutch and regained the outward
half -moon (his Grace being the first who entered it), to the admiration
of all who beheld their gallant conduct. The horn-work and half-
moon were taken on the 27th. His Majesty Louis XW. stood on a
hill and viewed the whole action. The besieged afterwards beat a
parley, and, on the 2d. of July surrendered the town." Historical
Records of the British Army., The Life Guards, edited by R. Cannon.
London, 1835, P- 4 2 ~43-
1 Monmouth's dancing was famous ; there are endless comments on
it in contemporary literature.
2 Lucy Walter, 1632 (?) 1658 (?). See Appendix A.
3 Oldmixon comments on the young King's regular life, p. 453.
COURT OF ENGLAND
that he gave her ; the care that he took to please her ;
the delight he displayed in her went so far that, as he
was so very young, & this was his first passion, and as,
when a heart is truly possessed there is no engage-
ment which it is not capable of taking, the world
thought that he had promised this beautiful Girl to
marry her.
In later years the report that he had done so,
flattered the vanity of the Duke of Monmouth to such
a degree & seemed to him so attractive that, notwith-
standing that he well knew there was no truth in the
story, he acted as though it were beyond cavil. Many
persons encouraged him ; & this rumour, joined to the
extreme tenderness the King had for him, placed him
in a position to sustain his rank with more pride and
distinction than any of the other Lords whom the
King of England had legitimised. 1
The personal advantages of the Duke, and the
influence that he had with the King, brought about
him a Court so numerous that the heir presumptive to
the Crown could not have been treated with more
deference and respect. He enjoyed the most impor-
1 Madame d'Aulnoy here confuses the recognition and honours
accorded by King Charles II. to the Duke of Monmouth and to his
natural sons, with the legal status conferred by Louis XIV. on the Due du
Maine &c. In 1694, a year before this work was first published, the
French King gave precedence in the succession to the Due du Maine
and the Comte de Toulouse, after the French princes of the blood, and
before his legitimate heirs amongst foreign Royalty, as his grandson the
King of Spain. In 1714 he confirmed this edict, extending it to the
sons of the Due du Maine. Lavisse, Histoire de France, vol. viii,
p. 470.
It was the custom in England at this period, and at a later date, to
accord a limited precedence to the children of the Sovereign born out of
wedlock. " The natural or illegitimate sons and daughters of the
king, after they are acknowledged by the king, take precedence of all the
nobles under those of the Blood Royal." Anglia Notitia or the
Present State of England together with Divers Reflections or the Antient
State thereof., 1669, p. 178.
5
MEMOIRS OF THE
tant Appointments in the Kingdom ; 1 he was rich,
young, gallant and (as I have already said,) he was of all
men of fashion the most amiable and the best made.
After all this it is not difficult to guess that there
were many Ladies who seriously devoted themselves to
his conquest. He realised his good fortune thereupon,
and knew how to profit by it ; though not always in a
manner completely delicate, for his feelings were but
little engaged. He brought more of flirtation and
frivolity into his intrigues than love or deep sentiment ;
& for these reasons he was incapable of sustaining an
individual attachment and not a single day passed but
he had a new Mistress.
The King thought it best to settle him and chose
for his wife the daughter of the Duke of Buccleuch and
1 After his creation as Duke of Monmouth &c. in 1663 the following
dignities were successively conferred on his Grace they are given
chronologically : M.A. Cambridge, March 16, 1663 ; K.G., April
23rd, 1663 J M.A. Oxford September 28, 1663 ; Member of the Inner
Temple, September 21, 1665 ; Master of a troop of Horse, June 30,
1666 ; Captain Prince Rupert's Regiment, June 13, 1667 > Captain of
the Horse Guards (i.e. Colonel of the Life Guards), September 1 6,
1668 ; P.C., April 29, 1670 ; General of the British Forces in France,
April to July 1672 ; Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary
to the Court of France, June 22, 1672 ; Warden and Chief Justice in
Eyre of the Royal Forests, Parks, Chases and Warrens South of the
Trent, January 13, 1673 ; Great Chamberlain of Scotland, February I,
1673; Governor and Captain of Kingston-on-Hull, April 12, 1673;
Lord-Lieutenant of East Riding (Yorkshire), April 1673 ; Lieut.-
General in the French Army, 1673 ; Lord of the Admiralty, July 9,
1673 ; High Steward of Kingston-on-Hull, August 1673 ; Master of
the Horse, April 14, 1674 J Chancellor of the University of Cambridge,
July 14, 1674 5 Colonel of the " Royal English " Regiment of Foot in
the French Army, 1675 > a Governor of the Charterhouse, January 20,
'675 J Ji nt Registrar of the Court of Chancery, September 8,
1676 ; High Steward of Stafford, March 17, 1677, and Lord-Lieutenant
of the County of Stafford, March 24, 1677 J General of the British
Forces in Flanders, March 1678; Capt.-General of the Forces,
April 30, 1678 ; Privy Councillor of Scotland, June 18, 1679. Doyle's
Baronage, vol. ii, 1886.
6
COURT OF ENGLAND
the Countess of Wemyss. 1 She was one of the richest
heiresses in the Kingdom of Scotland ; all that could
be wished for to make a person amiable met in
her ; virtue, intelligence, great possessions, birth ; &,
although she was not extraordinarily beautiful, &
although she limped 2 a little, she was ever full of
liveliness. Perhaps if the Duke had been obliged to
exert himself to achieve this conquest & had found it
difficult, & so to his glory to win, he might have thought
himself but too happy to succeed in espousing her ;
but he received her from the hands of the King ; she
never cost him a tear or a sigh ; and thus, what should
have been his happiness, proved but his embarrassment
and his affliction.
He found, in addition, that his liberty was engaged ;
that with a Wife, given him by the King, he was
obliged to be guarded in his movements ; for, should it
happen that she had any reason for complaint of his
conduct, the King might be expected to constitute
himself the Judge, and would not fail to favour her.
In addition, he was disinclined to submit to the fetters
Hymen imposes, & he obeyed but through submissive-
ness, & from the fear of displeasing his Father the
King. 3 Marriages thus arranged are not always
1 There are some mistakes here. Anne Scott, Countess of Buccleuch
in her own right, was the daughter of the second earl (1628-51), and
succeeded her sister as fourth holder of the dignity in 1651. She was
born February II, 1651, and married to the Duke of Monmouth
April 20, 1663, upon which day they were jointly created Duke and
Duchess of Buccleuch ; the date of the creation of the earldom was
1619. The Duchess married again in 1688, and died February 1732.
Her mother, who was already a widow when she married the Earl of
Buccleuch, took for her third husband the first Earl of Wemyss. She
was a daughter of John, fifth Earl of Rothes.
2 This was the result of an accident. Pepys, May 8, 1668.
3 As the Duke and Duchess were wedded at such a tender age it is
unlikely that Monmouth argued things in this manner at the time of
the wedding. Madame d'Aulnoy probably alluded to his views when he
7
MEMOIRS OF THE
happy ; in fact it was the Duke's idea only to observe
conventional decencies with his Wife, & as she was
very proud it was easy for her to discover her
husband's sentiments. Thus her own affections
chilled ; & she contented herself on her side in
performing her duty without making any display of
tenderness.
The marriage once consummated, the Duke thought
it might be allowed him to devote his heart to love, &
he found one of the maids of honour of the Duchess of
York whose beauty & youth charmed him equally.
The name of the House being unnecessary here I
will content myself with calling her " Emilie." 1 She
had something in her spirit so appealing that the Duke
would have been in despair had she chosen any other
Master save himself to teach her the art of love. He
never lost an opportunity of seeing or entertaining her,
but these occasions were rare ; for the Mother of the
first went to live with his wife in the autumn of 1671 . Madame d'Aulnoy's
imperfect grasp of the situation is accounted for by the fact that she was a
foreigner.
1 Mary Kirke eldest (?) daughter by his second marriage of George
Kirke, Master of the Robes to Charles I. (b. ?, d. April 6, 1675) by Mary
(b. ?, d. 1725) daughter of Aurelian Townsend, the successor of Ben
Jonson as the writer of Masques at Court ; Mrs. Kirke, who was a
famous beauty in her day, was on her marriage, at Oxford February 26,
1646, given away by the Martyr King. Mary Kirke held her appoint-
ment to Mary of Modena 1674-76 but does not appear to have taken
any part in the famous masque of Calisto performed by the ladies of
the York Household in the winter of 1674-75. She married Sir Thomas
Vernon of Hodnet, Salop, third baronet (b. 1637 ? > d - February 5,
1684), by whom she had three children who survived : Richard, b. 1678,
d. at the Court of Poknd (where he had been accredited Envoy Extra-
ordinary by George I.), fourth and last baronet ; Diana and Henrietta,
who both died unmarried in 1752. The Vernon family is now extinct,
but is represented by the Hebers of Hodnet, Salop. Mary, Lady
Vernon was buried at Greenwich August 17, 1711. The notorious
Colonel Percy Kirke was her half-brother. For further particulars and
the clues that led to identification ste Introduction, p. xviii.
o
COURT OF ENGLAND
Maids, 1 who knew him to be very dangerous, did not
fail to interrupt all their meetings.
However it happened one day that the Duchess of
York 2 went for a water excursion on the Thames &
this exact spy was too ill to follow. The Duke of
Monmouth took advantage of this to speak to Emilie,
& when every one was settled in Her Highness's Barge
he approached her & with an air intended to embarrass
her he said : " Destiny, Madam, is very cruel to me ;
for not only do you refuse me your smiles, but I hear
you bestow them freely on My Lord Arran."
" Sir," she said, blushing the while, " those who
have troubled themselves to inform you of my affairs
have done so wrongly. My lord doth not care for me,
and moreover he hath a Mistress in every way worthy
of his attachment. I assure you were I capable of
wishing more good to one man than another, you
would have a great preference in my heart."
" What you say would only console me," replied the
Duke, " if I could content myself with what is called a
Compliment, 3 but I need something truer if you would
not cause my death."
" And what do you want ? " she continued playfully.
" I want all your tenderness," he replied gravely.
1 Mrs. Lucy Wise, b. ? , d. ? , was, in the first instance, Mother of
the Maids to Anne Hyde and passed on to her successor, continuing to
serve her until 1677 when she was succeeded by Lady Harrison.
E. Chamberlain's Anglies Notitia, 1669-78.
2 Mary Beatrice Eleanora d'Este, eldest child of Alphonso III., Duke
of Modena, b. October 5, 1658, married the Duke of York, second
son of Charles I., November 21, 1673. She died in Paris, May 8,
1718.
3 A formal phrase lacking any deep sentiment. Sometimes called
a * How do ye,' often conveyed third hand. People sent ' Compli-
ments ' and ' How do ye's ' by a servant to any new arrival in the
neighbourhood whose acquaintance they wished to make. This custom
anticipated private calls and visiting cards. Ashton's Social Life in
the Reign of Queen Anne. Strickland's Queens.
9
MEMOIRS OF THE
" Do you consider that would be too much, to bestow
in response to a passion as strong as mine ? ' :
" Yes," she replied smiling, " I consider it would be
too much ; you ought to be ashamed to ask me ; and
I should be even more ashamed to accede to a prayer
so indiscreet."
She spoke with so much grace, and gentleness that
although the Duchess of Monmouth was in the same
Barge, occupied with a game with her Highness, he
could not prevent himself from taking Emilie's hands
& kissing them with the utmost devotion. His wife
was watching him, & although she did not love him
enough to be jealous, she highly disapproved of this
display of feeling for another. It is impossible to
describe her secret vexation ; her eyes flamed with
wrath until they were for the moment beautiful ; but
the Duke was far too occupied with Emilie to pay any
attention to his wife.
A second Barge followed in the wake of that of her
Highness ; it was full of various members of the Court,
amongst others My Lord Arran. 1 Although this last
made every effort to disguise his feelings he found it
impossible to keep his eyes from where Emilie and the
Duke of Monmouth sat together. For he loved her
dearly and was obliged to keep the fact hidden on
account of a secret liaison that he had with
Miledy. . . . 2 This Lady was of the first quality, &
she was consumed so much by her love for him that,
1 Richard Butler, second son of James first Duke of Ormonde
(1610-88), b. 1639, created May 1662, Earl of Arran in the Peerage of
Ireland, and, in 1673, Lord Butler, in the Peerage of England. He
married Lady Mary Stuart, only daughter of James, first Duke of
Richmond and Duke of Lennox in Scotland, by his wife Lady Mary
Villiers, only surviving daughter of the first Duke of Buckingham. She
died without issue at Dublin, July 4, 1668. He died in 1685.
2 The word signifies a Great Lady. (Mme. d'Aulnoy's note.) See
Introduction, p. xxi.
10
RICHARD, EARL OF ARRAN
From a miniature by S. Cooper at Welbeck Abbey
COURT OF ENGLAND
apart from her beauty & wit, her affection had attracted
his tenderness. But alas ! when one's only hold upon
a Lover is one's claim to his gratitude, he is soon lost !
My Lord Arran had for a long time been racking his
brains for an excuse to interrupt the conversation
between Emilie and the Duke. Beside him was his
dog that all the Court knew, & and at last he took it
up, and, in pretending to caress it, let it fall into the
Thames. He then made a dreadful outcry to recover
the animal from the water, whilst all the ladies in-
terested themselves to save it : particularly Miledy . . .,
who was on the other barge, & who could not regard
with indifference anything that my lord loved.
When a waterman had saved the dog she advanced
to the side of the Barge : " Come," said she to Lord
Arran, " Come, my lord, and rejoice with us that your
faithful Melampe is saved, her Royal Highness gives
you permission."
The Cavalier, who desired nothing more than to
enter the Barge of her Highness went with alacrity, &
having respectfully saluted the company, he placed
himself near to Miledy, but it was not his intention to
stay there long & with a view to soothing her he made
her a pretended confidence.
" Do you see the Duke of Monmouth ? " said he,
" I am dying to play a trick on him."
" And what is the trick you would play on him ? "
she asked.
" I would interrupt his conversation with Emilie,"
he replied. " You must admit that would be good
sport."
" You are not very sensible of the pleasure of being
near me," she said with a melancholy air, " if you
already think of leaving me for such a vain thing."
" Ha ! Not useless, she is never that ! " Then he
continued confusedly : " Have you forgotten, Madam,
ii
MEMOIRS OF THE
the many evil turns he played us upon that expedition
to Hampton Court ? Nothing could punish him
sufficiently for it."
" You are much more vindictive than I am," she
said coldly, " or to speak more plainly I am more dis-
cerning than you think. Go, my lord," she continued,
" present yourself to Emilie. If you have any design
to revenge yourself upon the Duke of Monmouth 'tis
not on account of what happened at Hampton Court
between him & us but rather is it on account of what
is now passing between him & her. You regard him as
a Rival, & as a dangerous Rival."
" What cruel doubts you have, Madam," interrupted
her companion, forcing himself the while to regard her
tenderly. "You put the most criminal construction
on the most innocent things. But in truth there is no
means of loving for ever, & rather than continue in
this condition of embarrassing constraint it would be
better that you should rely on my fidelity instead of
trying to quarrel with me from sheer wantonness."
Miledy, who was herself extremely oppressed by
anger & jealousy rose abruptly without making any
reply, and as she could not restrain her tears, which
were covering her cheeks, she concealed them with
her handkerchief, pretending her nose was bleeding, so
as to have occasion to take some water in her hand to
bathe her face.
My Lord Arran was not sufficiently touched by the
state in which he saw her to abandon his first intention.
Approaching Emilie he saluted her. "Am -I an
inconvenient third, Mistress ? " said he. " Do you
wish me all the bad fortune that Melampe has just
experienced ? All the ladies have had the goodness to
take a part in congratulating me. You are the only
one who appears not to have been aware of my trouble."
" Here is a fine subject for complaint," said the Duke
12
COURT OF ENGLAND
of Monmouth, piqued that he had been interrupted.
" Your dog hath fallen into the water ; Emilie hath
not uttered loud cries ! You ought to be content
with those to which Miledy . . . hath given vent."
Had not Lord Arran been restrained by the very
strongest considerations he would have replied to the
Duke in such a manner as would have speedily have
brought them into a field of mortal combat, but he
remembered that he was on her Highness's Barge, and
that he had to do with the son of the King, and the
favourite of the King ; and nothing more was needed
to make him moderate his first feelings of anger, and to
ignore that he was himself the son of the Duke of
Ormonde, Viceroy of Ireland ; who also held a very
distinguished position at the Court.
<k You are very beholden to the Duke of Monmouth,
Emilie," he said, " for taking the trouble to answer me
for you, and to applaud the indifference you show
me "
" You are trying to quarrel," interrupted Emilie,
with a smile, " and it is rather for a whim than for a
genuine reason."
" It is some consolation to me," he continued, " to
know you deserve my anger in lieu of my moderation,
and " He was interrupted at this point by
Miledy. . . . She had awaited his return to her
without result ; she had made him many signs to which
he had not paid the slightest regard. At last, not
being able to bear any longer that he should continue
to speak to her Rival, she called him to show him,
as she said a bracelet she had bought.
He left Emilie unwillingly, nor would he have
returned to Miledy . . . had he not feared that the
rudeness of refusing to do so would be altogether too
remarkable.
" You wished me every ill for coming at such a
13
MEMOIRS OF THE
time," she said, lowering her voice after she had shown
him the bracelet " because I separated you from an
object that occupies you far more than I do."
" No one save yourself occupies me, Madam,"
responded he, with such a constrained air that the
acute Miledy ... at once saw through it. " But I
swear to you I do enjoy myself at the expense of the
Duke of Monmouth."
" I greatly fear," she said curtly, " that your success
is not very great. I gather this from the contented
expression I observe in his eyes. But," she continued,
" do you not remark anything in mine, my lord ?
Have you absolutely lost the habit of reading what
passes in my mind ? and if you realise it do you think
that I can continue to suffer so much indifference and
bad faith ? " She looked at him as she said these
words, and as it is always difficult to endure the
scrutiny of the reproaches of a person one hath for no
particular reason ceased to love (notwithstanding
that one may not deserve the said reproaches) he
blushed and remained disconcerted.
Miledy ... for her part, lowered her eyes & fell
into a profound reverie, from which he made no effort
to rouse her.
Whilst these two people were in such a cruel des-
pondency the Duke of Monmouth on his part was
teasing the young Emilie. " You can no longer deny
the passion that My Lord Arran hath for you," he
said. " One would have to be less interested than I
am, not to have discovered all that is passing in your
two hearts considering that you have not been able,
despite your eagerness, to prevent my observing it.
Do you think you can deceive me ? "
" I have never harboured such a design," said Emilie
proudly, " I have neither occasion nor desire to inspire
you with an interest in my concerns. You are taking
\\
COURT OF ENGLAND
a tone which I should like but little were I so foolish
as to pay any attention to you, but I declare I am not
sufficiently interested in you to take the trouble to
deceive you ! J!
This reply appeared to the Duke so rude that he was
overwhelmed. He hesitated if he should reply, but
eventually his passion triumphed over his vexation.
Swiftly assuming a sweet and affable manner he said :
" I see well it is my place to ask your pardon ; beautiful
people have the right to be unjust, but no one hath
the right to complain of such injustice. And notwith-
standing all this, I have a favour I would ask of you.
Promise me that you will grant it."
" I will promise nothing," replied Emilie, smiling,
" I prefer to leave you as uncertain in regard to me as
you are jealous."
" Ha ! Madam, pray disabuse yourself of that error,"
cried the Duke, " I know it is common amongst Ladies
but there is no foundation for it ; & for my part
nothing could more turn me against an attachment
than to find Rivals in my path."
" What reason have you, my lord to distrust your
own worth ? " demanded Emilie. " It appears to me
that when one hath as much as you one triumphs over
one's rivals not fearing them at all."
" You endeavour to console me, beautiful Emilie,"
he said, " by such flattering terms that they cannot fail
to reassure me. Convinced though I am that you are
less of a coquette than any other, I am equally
persuaded that you do not wish to lose either of your
Lovers, & I am not sufficiently the Master of my
passion to be satisfied thereupon."
The excursion was brought to an end sooner than
was expected because the Duchess of York, who was
enceinte, felt ill. As soon as they were returned to
London, the Ladies, who were her guests, had
IS
COURT OF ENGLAND
accompanied her to St. James's, where she lived, the
Duchess of Monmouth quitted the Royal apartments
to return to her own home. She found neither her
Chair nor her People in attendance, for they had not
expected her to require them so early. Too impatient
to send to fetch them she proceeded into the Park that
separated St. James's from Whitehall. Night had
already fallen, and there was no other light save that
which came from the Moon. The Duchess was
absorbed in her troubles ; and in her anxiety to avoid
those who promenaded in the Mall she chose to go by
the darkest and most retired side paths. As she walked
quickly on her way she meditated upon the complaints
she was going to make to the King about her husband's
behaviour.
1
CHAPTER II
Duchess of Monmouth was not the only
one who was afflicted with jealousy at
this moment. The Duchess of Buck-
ingham 1 suffered many worse torments.
This Lady was the daughter of Fairfax, whose name
had been only too well known during the troubles in
England. He agitated in concert with Cromwell
and was declared Generalissimo of the State 2 in the
place of the Earl of Essex during the time that the
people rose against their King, Charles I., refusing to
obey him. George, Duke of Buckingham, 3 Master
of the Horse to the King, had espoused Mary Fairfax
from political motives. 4 They did not in the least
accord with the grandeur and the liberty in which he
gloried. Never had there been a man better made,
nor more regularly beautiful ; and in his conversation
there was something so engaging that he pleased even
1 Mary Fairfax only child and heiress of the third Lord Fairfax
(b. January 17, 1612, d. November 12, 1671), b. 1638, d. October 20,
1704, married George Villiers, second Duke of Buckingham,
September 7, 1657. There was no issue.
2 In 1647.
3 George Villiers, second and last Duke of Buckingham, only surviving
son of King James I. 's favourite, b. January 30, 1627-28, d. at the house
of a tenant at Kirkby Moorside, Yorks, April 1687.
4 The motive was private rather than political ! General Fairfax had
received a grant of the Villiers estates in the Strand (hence Villiers
Street, Buckingham Street, Duke Street, &c.), from the Rebel Parlia-
ment ; so Buckingham had the strongest personal motive in marrying
the former's only child, viz., the regaining of his paternal estates. E.
MEMOIRS OF THE
more by his intellect than by his person, & one would
have found it difficult to say which of the two created
the deepest impression. All his words went straight to
the heart ; he was born for gallantry and magnifi-
cence ; and he carried it further than any other lord
in England.
The Duchess of Buckingham had worth and virtue.
She was small, dark, and thin ; but even had she been
beautiful and charming, the fact that she was his
wife was sufficient to inspire him with repugnance.
She had always loved him, and although she was
sufficiently sensible not to worry him with her affection,
& also sufficiently complaisant to caress his Mistresses
and to permit them to lodge in her house, she yet
suffered very much because she loved her husband
solely, & she very well knew that he did not love
her at all. But there is a limit beyond which the most
gentle patience refuses to go ; then comes a breaking
point.
The Duchess of Buckingham, wearying of seeing her
husband ever occupied by a new passion, resolved to
make a to-do and to gain by awe what she could not
acquire by humility.
She had remarked that day that the Duke was restless
& that one of his valets-de-chambre repeatedly came and
spoke to him in a low voice. Subsequently the Duke
went out. He was lodged at Whitehall at the Cockpit. 1
His Apartments were built at the foot of the galleries
overlooking the Park. He had told the Duchess he
was going to the King, but she did not take the change. 2
1 The Cockpit at Whitehall, site of the present Privy Council Office.
Eminent occupants : Villiers (second Duke of Buckingham) was living
here in 1673. (Ludkw Memoirs, ii, 488.) Peter Cunningham's
Handbook of 'London, London, 1849, vol. i, p. 222.
2 A contemporary slang term which occurs more than once.
Original of " not taking any " and " you don't get any change out of
me ? " E.
18
COURT OF ENGLAND
She followed him, but kept sufficiently in the rear
to avoid his perceiving her. She observed that instead
of going toward the Lodging of the King he passed on
into the Park. Advancing quietly by the side of the
Menagerie 1 she was able to cover her own progress
without any difficulty owing to the friendly aid of the
trees andbushes.
The Duke entered on a bypath darker than the
others. Barely had he done this when he saw ahead of
him, a woman whose figure resembled that of his
Mistress : the fact that he was expecting her helped
to deceive him. He advanced eagerly towards her,
making so little effort to conceal himself that she
immediately recognised him.
It was the Duchess of Monmouth.
The latter's vexation gave place to curiosity, & she
experienced the keenest desire to know what he was
doing there. She determined to penetrate the mystery
& hid herself in her mask. Then cleverly disguising her
voice that he did not recognise it, she said "What are
you thinking of my lord Duke ? I have been awaiting
you an hour."
" Madam," he replied, approaching her, " my wife
prevented my coming as soon as I could have wished,
she had some chimera in her head to-day, & would
not leave me. Never before did I suffer so much."
" When one hath a tender impatience to see the one
whom one loves," said the Duchess, " one easily finds
the means to get rid of a wife ! "
The Duke, persuaded that his Mistress was annoyed,
threw himself on his knees intent to pacify her, but
the burst of laughter with which she greeted this
1 Bird Cage Walk. English Edition. There is no record of a
menagerie at Whitehall, though why the Duchess of Monmouth in
going thither from St, James's Palace should get into Bird Cage Walk we
9annot explain.
19
MEMOIRS OF THE
action instead of the salutation he had hoped for,
awoke him to a sense of the error under which he
laboured.
The Duchess of Buckingham, who watched them
from a distance, was sufficiently near to see all that
passed but was beyond earshot. Leaving the shrubbery
where she had been in hiding she ran towards White-
hall. She was assured of her Husband's infidelity and
did not wish to know anything further.
It happened that the Duke of Monmouth in coming
from her Highness's had noticed, notwithstanding the
night, a woman, alone, who appeared well made, and
who passed through another gate to avoid him. He was
not so deeply in love with Emilie that a new adventure
had no appeal to him, so he followed the unknown with
the intention of accosting her as soon as they had gone a
little further into the Park. Seeing a man coming
towards her he did not doubt that he was about to
witness a lovers' meeting ; nevertheless he continued
to advance -quietly until suddenly he recognised the
dress (a very splendid one) which she wore. It was
his wife ! Whatever good opinion he had hitherto
had of her was completely destroyed by what he saw.
Knowing she was not ignorant of his own conduct, he
never doubted that she was seeking to avenge herself
by equal infidelity. He discovered that one can be
jealous when one does not love; & his first feeling of
anger would have resulted, had he been in any other
place, in a violent outbreak. 1 Listening to the conver-
sation with all that attention that one hath for things
which vitally concern one, he was presently rewarded
by hearing her say in a louder tone : " See, my lord,
your advice is not for me. I am resolved to complain
to the King of the proceedings of the Duke of Mon-
mouth. If you had only seen all that passed in Her
1 See Appendix B,
20
COURT OF ENGLAND
Highness's Barge between Emilie and him ; the manner
in which he kissed her hand, the length of their con-
versation, you would quite realise that it is his intention
to bully me, 1 and that my patience is imputed to
stupidity. 'Tis my intention to go at once and hold
discourse with the King imploring him to keep
order."
When the Duke of Buckingham replied, endeavour-
ing to dissuade her from this intention, the Duke of
Monmouth recognised simultaneously the voice and
the generosity of his friend. This set his mind at rest
to some extent on the one point ; but on the other he
was not free from uneasiness ; for the King had
exhorted him to guard his wife carefully from all the
annoyances that his ordinary gallantries could not fail
to cause her ; & he had promised to be so strictly
observant in this respect, that she should never hear
of them.
Suddenly he bethought him that his best remedy
would be to inform his Majesty himself. Without
stopping another moment to listen to the conversation
of the Duchess & the Duke of Buckingham he went
forthwith to the King's lodging.
Arrived there, he was informed that his Majesty
was in his closet with the Duchess of Buckingham.
A moment later she came forth. His Grace
noticed that her eyes were very red and very wet, for
she had been crying.
The King 2 had followed her to the doorway, and
perceived his son at the same moment that the Duchess
retired.
1 Me veut braver.
2 His Majesty King Charles II., the second son of the Blessed Martyr
and Queen Henrietta Maria, was born at St. James's Palace, May 29,
1630, crowned April 23, 1661 ; died at Whitehall, February 6, 1685,
and is buried in Westminster Abbey.
21
MEMOIRS OF THE
" There goes a very unhappy woman," he remarked
to him. " Her husband most cruelly neglects her,
lavishing all his tenderness on others. If you behaved
in that way I would never forgive you."
" Things are the other way about with me, Sir," he
replied ; "I have just left my wife in the Park at a
nocturnal assignation with a man whom I do not
know ! I own to your Majesty that I should have
inquired the meaning of it if my respect for you, Sir,
had not overcome my just resentment." The King,
much astonished, mused for some moments ere speaking.
" Is what you tell me really true ? " he asked at
last.
"She could not have the hardihood to deny it
supposing I were to relate to her, before your Majesty,
the circumstances of her conversation ! " said the
Duke.
He was still speaking when the Duke of Grafton 1
came & told the King, in a low voice, that the
Duchess of Monmouth prayed to be accorded a private
audience.
Though this messenger was only a child he had not
failed to perceive, from certain words the lady had let
fall, that she came to make complaints to the King
about the conduct of her husband. The Duke of
Grafton did not like the Duke of Monmouth at all,
although they were brothers ; because the latter
despised all the children of the King, pretending
there was a great difference between himself and them.
This reason was quite sufficient to pique them ; and
1 Then only Earl of Euston. Henry FitzRoy, second illegitimate
son of King Charles II. by Barbara Villiers, Duchess of Cleveland. Born
September 28, 1663 ; created, August 1 6, 1672, Baron Sudbury, Viscount
Ipswich, and Earl of Euston; and on September n, 1675, Duke of
Grafton, K.G. In 1672 he married Isabella Bennet, only child and
heiress of Henry Earl of Arlington, and died October 9, 1690, leaving
an only son.
22
COURT OF ENGLAND
on all occasions they willingly declared themselves
on the side opposed to him. 1 This antagonism caused
the young Duke of Grafton to urge the King to speak
with the Duchess, & telling the Duke of Monmouth
to await him, his Majesty passed into his great closet
where she presently joined him.
The King's cold and disdainful manner caused her
much surprise. It was so different from his usual
affability & the civility which he had for all Ladies.
In fact this hauteur combined with the annoyance
which he made no effort to conceal and which was
manifest in his face positively alarmed her.
" 'Tis to you alone, Sir, that I have recourse,"
said she, " in the trouble in which I find myself
overwhelmed by the indifference & bad behaviour
of the Duke of Monmouth. He tries my patience to
the utmost limit "
" This is a very politic move," interrupted the King.
" You come here & complain with every appearance
of jealousy ; but your reproaches & suspicions of your
husband are but a device to hide your own conduct.
You should arrange things better. You should realise
that the moment of quitting an assignation yourself
is scarcely a befitting occasion upon which to come
& accuse him of gallantry."
The Duchess was so astonished at what she heard
that, notwithstanding her innocence, an onlooker
would have thought her guilty. However, she soon
recovered her equanimity sufficiently to make an effort
to justify herself ; for now she cared more to do this
than to make complaint. She protested to the King
that she had nothing to reproach herself with ; that
it was the Duke of Buckingham 2 that she had met in
the Park ; that she had simply stopped him to speak
1 The Duke of Grafton fought against him in 1685.
2 Who was some twenty-five years her senior.
COURT OF ENGLAND
of her troubles ; & finally she supplicated his Majesty
to send for the Duke to justify her.
The King had a sufficiently high opinion of the
Duchess to believe willingly all she said to him ; but
as he thought the Duke of Monmouth's doubts
were reasonable, he was very pleased to be in a position
to set them absolutely at rest ; & calling to the Earl
of Norwich * he despatched him to the Duke of
Buckingham with orders that he should come at
once.
1 Henry Howard, second son of Henry Frederick, Earl of Arundel
(1608-1652), and Lady Elizabeth Stuart (1626-1657), m. 1627. Born
July 12, 1628. Died in London January 1684. Buried at Arundel.
Created Baron Howard of Castle Rising 1669, Earl of Norwich and
Hereditary Earl Marshal 1672. Succeeded his brother as sixth Duke of
Norfolk 1677. For further particulars of identification see Introduction.
CHAPTER III
POOR Lord Norwich found the Duke of
Buckingham all too soon but under the
very last circumstances he expected ; for
his Grace was kneeling at the feet of my
lord's wife, 1 a very beautiful member of the Court,
who, up to then, had been so discreet that hardly
anyone had known of the Duke's attachment for her.
It will be easy to picture their mutual surprise. My
Lord Norwich was far too politic to desire to insist
on an explanation in the Park. There are scenes in
public in which one objects to being an Actor ; so he
mastered his wrath sufficiently to pretend to believe
his wife when she said, in excusing herself for having
been found at such an hour with a Man of the World
so well made & so gallant, that Chance alone had
conducted her to this place. Then, in an inconceivable
embarrassment, she retired.
The Duke of Buckingham overcome with chagrin
at the cruel mischance which had befallen him had
hesitated to justify himself to the lady in the presence
of her husband, and now, without stopping for any
explanation he presented himself before the King
& there corroborated all that the Duchess of Mon-
mouth had said.
1 Jane, daughter of Robert Bickerton of Cash in Scotland, Clerk of
the Wine Cellar to Charles II., son of Thomas Bickerton Lord of Cash.
She was born 1644 and married Lord Norwich as his second wife
1668 having previously been his mistress. By him she had seven
children, one posthumous. She died August zjth, 1693. See Intro-
duction, p. xx.
25
MEMOIRS OF THE
Quite satisfied, the King called the Duke of Mon-
mouth, & also sent for the Duchess of Buckingham,
who had returned home, for he wished to make known
to her the mistake she had made. When presently
she arrived, he first of all addressed his son : " You
had reason to think," he said, " having seen your wife
in the Park with a man, that appearances pointed to
guilt ; but she is innocent. My lady of Buckingham
had, on her side, causes for alarm ; still, another time
she would be well advised to be more moderate. As
for the Duchess of Monmouth, this adventure should
convince her that appearances cannot always be relied
on. Believe me then, all of you, & hearken to what
I say : Forgive these annoyances that you have equally
suffered, & let this serve to cure you of jealousy;
which may be called the supreme evil of Marriage."
The Duchess of Monmouth said nothing. What had
happened had caused her so much surprise that she
continued in a sullen silence which was more indicative
of anger than of moderation. The Duchess of Buck-
ingham, on her side, loved her husband to such a
degree that she could not be other than transported
with joy at having been so deceived ; she flattered
herself that he was not so faithless as she had supposed,
& she felt for him a reawakening of a love so sincere
that nothing would have given her greater happiness
than that he should have responded. But, the Duke
being the victim of a secret uneasiness for the fate
of My Lady Norwich found the pleasure he would
have otherwise experienced at the termination of this
affair poisoned. As for the Duke of Monmouth, he
appeared to be more satisfied than at the bottom of
his heart he really was. He had discovered in his
spouse an overseer who would oblige him in future to
guard his movements to a degree which would cause
him grievous constraint. But like the rest he remained
26
NE DVTCHESS OF MOMMOVTHI
ANNA, DUCHESS OF MONMOUTH AM) BUCCLEUCH
COURT OF ENGLAND
silent, & then the King, impatient to go to his Mistress,
left them all ; passing into her Apartment.
The two Duchesses made the first move & went off
together. Then their husbands proceeded to the
Park ; it was the most glorious night that can be
imagined.
" What is the matter ? " said the Duke of Mon-
mouth to the Duke of Buckingham, " I find you in
the depth of melancholy, a state of mind most unusual
in your case."
" Alas ! in trying to save you I have lost myself.
I had not come into the Park just now without a
reason ; in fact I will own to you I was awaiting My
Lady Norwich."
" You were awaiting her," cried the Duke of Mon-
mouth ; " is what you tell me possible ? "
" You may believe me," continued the other, " nor
must you think that the secret of my passion has been
kept from you through any lack of confidence ; but
she was so delicate & jealous of her reputation, she
bound me by a thousand oaths never to confide in a
third person, &. I have kept my word as long as it
was in my power. She even said to me : ' I will be
both your Confidante & your Mistress together.
Never betray me to a friend : he would be certain to
speak of the matter. As long as you follow this con-
duct be certain I shall consider your interests before
my own.' Alas, I did all that she wished ; & the
first person, save ourselves, to know anything of the
matter was would you believe it ? her husband ! "
" Her husband ! ' ;
" Himself ! The King had sent him to look for me
& he found me at his wife's feet. Judge of our
surprise, or rather do not attempt to do so, for it is
an impossibility. See then, my lord, what your
gallantry has cost me."
27
MEMOIRS OF THE
He sank into a silence which his companion made no
attempt to break, but walked along with a disturbed
expression, evidently reflecting profoundly.
" Is it possible ? " his Grace of Buckingham asked
presently, " that my vexation touches you so deeply ? >:
" No," replied the younger Duke.
" It must not be," he continued, " that I have to
reproach myself with being wanting in good faith to
my best friend. 1 Know therefore, my lord, that I
can take no part in your trouble, I am full of my
own. Know too, my lord, that this lady, so jealous
of her reputation, told me a precisely similar tale to
that which she told you, & she appeared to me a woman
so worthy of my attachment that, hitherto, I could not
have believed it possible she could be capable of
infidelity ! "
The Duke of Buckingham was extraordinarily
surprised. " What ! are we Rivals then ? Has this
woman had the address & duplicity to deceive us
both ? "
" I am deeply moved," responded the other, " but
at the bottom of my heart I am not very greatly
surprised. As she must realise that we love others
beside herself it is no wonder that she retaliates."
" Ha ! that is very different," said the Duke of
Buckingham, " and your excuses for her are not
altogether delicate. It seems that your love must be
less than mine otherwise you would hardly regard with
indifference what fills me with horror."
" In justice to myself," replied his Grace of Mon-
mouth, " I cannot acknowledge that any Lady who
1 Friendship notwithstanding, Buckingham was the author of some
very aggressive verses satirising Monmouth. Collected Works, vol. ii,
p. 15. As the annotator comments : "Though our author was a
leading light of the Duke of Monmouth's faction that would not
exempt the Duke from the satire of his pen." Ibid. p. 33.
28
COURT OF ENGLAND
was worthy of an honest man's heart, would consent
to accept but a share of it."
" And yet," dissented Buckingham, " it often
happens that, during the actual course of a long & a
great passion, one would escape for the moment &
take advantage of a favourable opportunity in another
direction. But it is an assured fact that these little
infidelities are rarely followed up ; for one returns with
renewed ardour to the real object of one's affections,
as if to one's only good. It is for this reason that no
sensible woman takes offence "
" I find," said the Duke of Monmouth, " that the
Laws that govern Woman & that govern us are equal,
& that in assuming we possess the privilege of temporarily
attaching ourselves to some chance Mistress from time
to time, reserving the right to return to the old one,
when and as we will, we are the victims of a totally
erroneous conceit. Women adapt themselves but
hardly to this rule, & take revenge is no measured
manner the instant an opportunity arrives."
" You conclude then," interrupted the Duke of
Buckingham, rather heatedly, " that My Lady Norwich
hath done well to deceive us both, & that we ought to
thank her for having taken the trouble."
" No," said his friend, " I do not come to that
conclusion, for I am in despair at being the dupe of a
person whom I esteemed even more than I loved ;
for my passion was not new. Yet with all this I cannot
help believing that one of us two can make her come
to a decision if he himself hath first done so."
" Hey, bon Dieu, was my mind not made up ? And
I am still such a fool over the woman that, despite
myself, I am worrying about her, for the apparent
moderation of her husband is more ominous to me
than would be the most violent paroxysms of rage."
" Do not let us regard ourselves as Rivals," suggested
29
MEMOIRS OF THE
his Grace of Monmouth, u let us rather combine in an
endeavour to serve her."
" Alas, what is there to be done in an encounter of
this nature ? " sighed the Duke of Buckingham. " We
may never see her again."
They continued walking discussing the matter,
when the Duke of Monmouth suddenly stopped, his
eye arrested by the sight of something sparkling lying
on the ground before him. He stooped to pick it up
and found it to be a set of Tablets garnished with
diamonds.
" Have you no curiosity," he asked, " to see what
these Tablets contain ? "
" To have such a desire," replied his companion
angrily, " one would need to be as dissipated & flirtatious
as you are ! I have other thoughts to occupy me."
" I will take care of them then," said Monmouth
amused at his friend's petulance, " and if I find anything
likely to arouse your interest I will tell you "
" All I ask of you at the present," replied the Duke
of Buckingham, " is the history of your loves with
my Mistress."
" It is too late to begin them now," said his
companion serenely. " I can tell you the day after
to-morrow if you wish."
The Duke of Buckingham was constrained to thank
him for even this limited mercy, and at this point
each of them took his separate road to his lodging.
Although the Duke of Monmouth to all outward
seeming, treated the matter but lightly, he was in
reality extremely sore at the infidelity of My Lady
Norwich. He had thought himself her only lover ;
this very opinion had inspired him with an indolence
in regard to her from which he had never expected to
be aroused by such a singular adventure. He recalled
to his mind all the charms of this beautiful person &
30
COURT OF ENGLAND
never had he found her so fascinating as at this
moment.
His reflections only served to make him feel the more
fully what was involved in her loss.
All the same, his heart was not seriously enough
affected for him to remain very long in such a melan-
choly & affliction, &, arrived home, he hastened to
search the Tablets which he had just found, in the hope
of seeing something there which would distract &
even divert him.
He read these words :
Do not worry yourself in the least at what you have made me
suffer ! If you really had any preference for me you could
not possibly encourage the Duke of Monmouth & encourage
him before my eyes ! Do not advance, in making an apology :
But you have lived with Miledy ! You know that the
case is quite different ; but I am obliged to keep up appear-
ances with her, & that for your sake Madam. This gives you
no excuse to be tender to my R val.
If you do not wish for my death, find a moment when I can
speak to you in private.
The Duke guessed immediately that these Tablets
belonged to My Lord Arran, & that the letter was
addressed to Emilie ; this was confirmed absolutely
by the words that were written underneath those
just quoted.
Pray cease troubling yourself, my lord, for there is no reason
why you should doubt my heart. If I have appeared to pay
any heed to the Duke it was from a politic motive, of which
regard for you was the leading principle ; it was my desire
to divert the suspicions of the jealous Miledy by making
her think that I preferred another to you.
I cannot meet you before to-morrow evening in the Gallery
at the end of the Queen's Apartments. Do not fail to be
there.
The Duke of Monmouth was in despair at this bad
faith on the part of Emilie. Was it not enough, he
31
COURT OF ENGLAND
thought, to know that My Lady Norwich cared for the
Duke of Buckingham ? Must he find out at the same
time that the girl he loved was disposed to sacrifice
him ? For although My Lord Arran had preceded him
in her good graces, he had flattered himself that he
had entirely obtained her preference.
He lay awake nearly all night unable to find any
repose, revolving in his mind a thousand designs by
which he might be avenged.
CHAPTER IV
i
was evidently destined to 'be one
of trouble & unrest.
The Countess of Norwich upon her return
home called immediately for one of her
women in whom she had the greatest confidence.
" My dear Esther, I am lost," she said. " The
cruellest adventure that can possibly be imagined hath
occurred to me this evening. My husband discovered
me in the Park with the Duke of Buckingham. From
the studied calm of his manner I augur the utmost
misfortunes. O Dieu ! How can I escape them ? "
" You should go, Madam," said Esther, " without
losing a moment, to Madam your sister, & stay there
until you have recovered from this state of agitation ;
otherwise you may say or do something you will
repent of."
" Under what pretext ? " demanded the lady,
" could I leave here so late ? Would it not be to
confess that I have done wrong & so to cover myself
for ever with shame ? ' :
" When the peril is so near," said Esther, " I assure
you, Madam, that you need not be so studied in your
actions. Madam, your sister will give you good advice
& hide your disgrace as she would her own."
" But what shall I say to the Duke of Monmouth ? ' :
cried her mistress. " If he guesses what is passing he
will at once become my cruellest enemy "
" He hath never loved you enough, Madam, to hate
c 33
MEMOIRS OF THE
you," replied Esther. " And if you continue to make
these unnecessary reflections my lord will return &
there will be no chance for you to escape."
My Lady Norwich thereupon hurried from her
chamber to the stairs.
She was just about to enter her chair as her husband
appeared. Far from being disconcerted she told him
that her sister had sent to ask her to come at once as
she was very ill.
Apparently he did not believe this ; if he did it
gave him but little concern ; for, remarking that
it was too late to run the streets, fy that a clever
Doctor would be of more assistance to her sister than
she could be, he obliged her to re-enter the
house. His manner warned her that she might expect
trouble.
As soon as they were in the Room he told her that
the King had just given him orders to leave the next
morning to go to the County of Pembrokeshire, where
just then things were passing contrary to his Majesty's
interests ; & that she would accompany him on the
journey.
Never was surprise equal to hers. She said she
expected it would prove to be an insurrection & that
she would find herself among rebels.
He assured her that he would pacify them all.
She objected that it was not then the time to go into
the country, that it was already too hot.
He told her that he would only take her into airy
houses.
She replied that she would be certain to fall ill.
He said that there were good Doctors there.
She exclaimed that they would embarrass her.
He entreated her not to upset herself.
Thus all the reasons were useless. He signified to
her that, without seeking so many obstacles, it was his
34
COURT OF ENGLAND
desire, that she had best prepare with a good grace for
they would leave at daybreak.
Whilst the Duke of Buckingham was ignorant of this
bad news, he was not more tranquil at home. His
wife had awaited his arrival ; he found her in his
apartment ; she fell on his neck, & this was a new
annoyance to him. She protested that she would not
have slept at all if she had not seen him before retiring
to make her excuses to him for what had passed before
the King. She declared that she knew she had done
wrong to murmur ; but that if he would only examine
the sources of her complaints he would but find the
cause to love her the more.
He entirely agreed with all she said, & then advised
her to retire to her Chamber. He told her he con-
sidered it was very bad for her that he should keep her
up so late, & that he was far too interested about her
health to countenance it ; & then he, notwithstanding
her protests, conducted her to her room.
He had thought to be rid of her, & this caused him
much joy, but she came back almost on his steps. It
had so happened that one of the servants in opening a
bottle of Imperial water x had let it fall beside the
Duchess's bed. She said the odour was so strong,
perhaps she found the excuse so good, that she had
returned to ask her husband for the half of his bed, &
this he could not decently refuse her however great
was his secret desire to do so.
In yet another household Miledy . . . not being able
to control her grief, on leaving the Barge of the Duchess
of York, had pretended to be ill so as to have an excuse
for returning immediately to her own apartment.
There she gave free course to the tears which she had
hitherto restrained with such difficulty. The shame &
1 A drink made of cream of tartar flavoured with lemon juice and
sweetened. N. E. D.
35
MEMOIRS OF THE
misery that she felt at weeping over one so unworthy
cruelly augmented her indignation. " Shall I never
cure myself ? " said she to My Lady Feismouth 1 who
was her intimate friend, & for whom she had sent on
her return. " I love this traitor who is utterly uncom-
prehending of the value of my heart. He prefers
Emilie to me, although she only mocks him, sacrificing
him without scruple to the Duke of Monmouth. Yes,
Madam ; My Lord Arran hath seen my sorrow with
a disgraceful indifference ; he hath given me proof of
his infidelity ; I realise that I persist in standing in my
own light, & yet, despite all the reasons that I have
for hating him, I love him & by this weakness make
myself one of the unhappiest people in the world ! 5:
My Lady Feismouth was genuinely delighted at
what her friend told her. " Now you realise," she said,
" what 1 have seen for a long time. I begin to hope
that your pride will come to the rescue of your heart.
Is it not a pitiable thing that with so much sense &
worth it is your sole desire to be ever the dupe of a man
like Lord Arran ? "
" I would rather be his veriest plaything than
nothing at all to him," cried Miledy . . . shedding a
torrent of tears. " You speak like a woman who
hath never loved, & who does not know anything
of the most tyrannical of all passions."
My Lady Feismouth embraced her. " Do not then
let us think anything more of what you ought to do to
cure you," she said, " but at least my dear friend
promise me that you will endeavour to profit by the
lesson that he hath given you by his indifference."
" I am not likely to forget them," said Miledy . . .
" although I fear that there will be little peace for me.
However, if I am still too foolish to banish that
ingrate from my heart I will at least be sufficiently
1 We have not succeeded in identifying this lady.
36
COURT OF ENGLAND
proud to keep my secret, & sufficiently vindictive to
avenge myself on my Rival, & make her realise that one
does not flout with impunity a woman of my birth or
my character."
" I presume," said the other, " that you are going to
exert yourself to the utmost to plague Emilie ? Ah,
my dear Miledy . . . how far you are from the senti-
ments I should like to see you have ! "
They would have continued much longer, but their
conversation was interrupted by one coming to inform
My Lady Feismouth that the Queen was asking for
her.
Of all those that up till now I have mentioned Lord
Arran was the only one whose mind was perfectly
tranquil. The reply of Emilie, which he had found in
his Tablets, had put him at peace with all the world,
for he did not yet know that he had lost them, any
more than he remembered that the pleasures we think
the nearest & the most sure, are often the most
distant, or the most cruelly hindered. And at this very
time the one care of the Duke of Monmouth in his
jealous infatuation was to disorganise his Rival's
pleasant assignation.
To succeed in this he found he must take Miledy
. . . into his confidence.
He was with her at a very early hour. He found in
her eyes a certain air of languor which made her
altogether charming, & he would willingly have pro-
posed that she should, forgetting My Lord Arran for
ever, from that very moment, commence a liaison with
him, had he not been afraid of displeasing her by so
doing.
" Our interests should be in common, Madam," said
he, on entering her room. " People who cease to
merit our regard treat us as dupes."
37
MEMOIRS OF THE
" I presume," said she, " you wish to speak to me,
my lord, about the scene which took place yesterday
on the Barge of her Highness ? I must confess that I
have played a very culpable part ; it is with shame I
hear it spoken of."
" Can it be possible ! " exclaimed the Duke, " that
a man you esteem so particularly can display so much
ingratitude & bad taste ! "
" He still endeavours to deceive me," she replied,
" swearing a thousand oaths that have lost all their
power. For example, what did he tell me only
yesterday ? Why, that it appeared to him I did a
very great wrong in accusing him of loving Emilie, &
that, despite the faithful witness of my own eyes.
But," she continued smiling, " Jupiter is not a dupe." x
" Apart from what you have seen," said the Duke,
" here are these Tablets which chance has thrown into
my hands ; they confirm your just doubts & convict
him."
" I have no need," said she, taking them in a manner
which betokened great displeasure. " I have no need
to be persuaded of Emilie's bad faith."
She read the two Notes alternately flushing & paling,
and then returned the Tablets to the Duke. She
lacked the strength to speak, but her eyes were
eloquent.
" Do not let us miss the opportunity," said he, " of
interrupting this agreeable rendezvous. You, Madam,
must go to the Gallery where, passing for Emilie, you
will from his own mouth obtain an avowal of his
disloyalty. I, on my part, will take care of the rest."
She had a genuine struggle ere resolving to take this
step. Knowing that she was neither waited for nor
1 We have not been able to trace the meaning of this expression ;
the 1707 translation evades the difficulty by substituting " I am not
easily deceived ! "
38
COURT OF ENGLAND
desired by Lord Arran, she feared that some one would
come & surprise her while with him, a situation which
would be most difficult to account for, but she
thought also of the joy that she would have in con-
fronting him in his actual infidelity, of how, afterwards,
she would have every right to break with him, if she
wished, & anyhow to treat him with the greatest
contempt. Finally, all her reasons gave way before
the Duke's desires, & she promised him not to fail in
keeping the rendezvous in the Gallery.
Once assured of this he proceeded to the King's
Apartment to know what was the programme for the
day. He learned that they were going to hunt, & that
Lord Arran was one of those whom his Majesty had
named to follow him. With this news the Duke
returned to his lodging, 1 & then imitating, as far as lay
in his power, the calligraphy of Lord Arran, of which
he had several specimens, he wrote the following
words on the Tablets that he had found :
I cannot go into the Gallery without passing the Chamber
of the Queen, I fear lest she might order me to remain for her
amusement. It would be better, Madam, that we should
meet in the little Salon of the Princess Anne ; you can reach
it without being noticed, & upon my return from the chase, I
will go there with the greatest eagerness.
He then ordered one of his Valets de Chambre who
was unknown to Emilie, to find a means of giving her
the Tablets as though from My Lord Arran; after
which he returned at once to the King.
1 It was in the Cockpit.
39
CHAPTER V
A~ "IIVED at the King's, he was mounting the
stairs when he saw the Duke of Buckingham
descending them with all the precipitation
of a man who hath important business.
He at first hesitated whether or not to stop him, ..&
eventually he turned & ran after him.
" What is it ? " he said, catching him by the arm,
" you appear very busy."
" Ha ! My lord," said his Grace of Buckingham,
" look at this Billet they have brought me on behalf of
a certain lady, & judge of my indignation."
The Duke of Monmouth read these words :
You will easily realise my unhappiness when I have told you
that my husband, insensible alike to my tears & my prayers,
is taking me into Pembrokeshire ! What can you do my lord
to prevent a journey that will perhaps prove fatal to my life ?
Consult your heart, it alone can suggest the means. Myself,
I am not in a state to think of anything.
" Whatever reason I have to complain of her," said
the Duke of Monmouth, returning the note, " her
condition touches me sensibly. But I cannot serve
her in a matter so delicate, & I also advise you to leave
this affair to take its natural course."
" Heaven forfend ! " exclaimed the other, " it is
sufficient that she asks succour for me to give it."
" You will place yourself, then, in the position of a
Knight Errant ? "
" I am not sufficiently romantic for that," inter -
40
COURT OF ENGLAND
r up ted the Duke of Buckingham. " All the same I
cannot patiently endure that you should show so much
indifference concerning a woman who, not twenty-four
hours ago, you believed loved you."
" And if I were not so indifferent," interrupted
Monmouth, " my imagination would so sensibly
influence me in a matter so vital, as to effect my
cure."
" I was equally mistaken with you, & perhaps more
so," replied Buckingham, sighing, " and yet I feel an
unconquerable weakness for her ; it may be charity, it
may be passion, it may be the two combined ; any-
way, I am going to snatch her from the hands of her
husband.
" You are going to make a terrible disturbance,"
exclaimed the Duke of Monmouth. " In the name of
God let me think a moment what had best be done."
The Duke of Buckingham made no reply, & the
Duke of Monmouth considered intently as to what
was the most proper course to pursue.
" Of course ! One should not hesitate," he ex-
claimed after a few moments. " Go, my lord, &
implore succour of the King. You enter into his
interests every day, & he is too gallant & too generous
to refuse you."
The Duke of Buckingham snapped at this expedient
& immediately mounting to the chamber of the King
he asked for a moment's audience.
As soon as he was alone with his Majesty, he re-
counted to him all that had happened at the rendez-
vous in the Park, & his misfortune at being discovered
by My Lord Norwich. He then showed him the
lady's Note.
The King changed colour several times as he listened
to the Duke's recital of his woes & the latter perceived
it with the greatest emotion ; for it suddenly occurred
4 1
MEMOIRS OF THE
to him that he had found yet another Rival, and one
still more dangerous than the Duke of Monmouth.
" I am surprised," said the King, after he had spent
some minutes in silence, " that My Lady Norwich did
not address herself to me rather than to you in asking
to be saved from the ill-humours of her husband. But
no doubt she hath her reasons for keeping from me the
knowledge of the conduct of her affairs."
The Duke of Buckingham had the honour to be
brought up with the King. 1 He had so fully entered
into his confidence that he was able to speak to him
with greater familiarity than any other man of the
court.
" Do not hide from me your thoughts, Sir," he said.
" Indeed I already guessed them, a fact which ma-
terially increases my unhappiness. You love Lady
Norwich ; you are displeased, & jealous at what took
place in the Park. But the present moment is not the
one to inquire if she be right or wrong. Stop her
departure, Sir ; think only of that."
" Ingrate I " said the King, heaving a profound sigh.
After this he was silent, meditating some time before
he again took up the thread.
" No, she merits neither my anger nor my protec-
tion," he said, " I will abandon her. Do not speak of
her again to me," he concluded, turning to the Duke.
The latter remained silent and downcast. He fully
realised that the King, possessed as he was just now
1 When the first Duke of Buckingham was murdered King Charles I.
told his broken-hearted widow that he would be a father to her children,
which promise he faithfully kept ; the two Villiers boys were brought
up with and shared the same instructors as the Prince of Wales and the
Duke of York. The beautiful Vandyke, still at Windsor, of the Duke of
Buckingham and his brother in childhood silently, as Lady Burghclere
says, " testifies to the fatherly affection of Charles I. for his orphan
wards." George Villiers, Second, Duke of Buckingham, by the Lady
Burghclere, London, 1903.
42
COURT OF ENGLAND
with righteous anger, would not accord him anything
for his Mistress.
Making a profound reverence he left the Closet.
The Duke of Monmouth was awaiting him in the
Ante-chamber ; he passed him by without one glance
and descended the stairs. The Duke of Monmouth
was surprised. He hastened after him, asking him how
he had proceeded when with the King.
" I proceeded to be guilty of additional foolishness,"
he replied brusquely, " and it was by your counsel ;
you seem fatal to my intrigue ! I inform the King of
what passes, only to have revealed to me that he loves
the lady ! See to what a degree of unhappiness I have
come. Last night I discovered you were my Rival, this
morning I find the King to be another one. I learn
nothing of my Mistress save reprehensible infidelities,
yet instead of my passion being weakened, by a fatality
I cannot fathom I find that it is increased, and that it
is my destiny to commit without any assistance
some wild extravagance for a woman who merits only
my hatred."
As the Duke was about to remark that one is never
fortunate in love without running the risk of losing the
object inspiring the emotion, they came to tell him
that the King asked for him.
" Will you wait for me ? " he said to the Duke of
Buckingham ; " it may be about your concerns."
u I shall lose too much time," responded the latter.
" Her ladyship has already gone. She must be
followed."
" What ! Do you intend to take her by force ? ' :
" I do not know what I intend ! But I am going to
take some people & follow her."
" You are going to commit an outrageous folly,"
commented the other. " Do not refuse to wait for
me, I shall return in a moment."
43
MEMOIRS OF THE
Reluctantly his Grace of Buckingham agreed, passing
into a dark, low gallery which led to the chambers of
several of the King's Officers. " You will find me
here," he said.
The Duke of Monmouth hastened off to the King.
He was told he was in his Closet. Entering quietly he
saw that his Majesty had his head resting on his hands
& that he was in a deep reverie. Hearing some noise
he looked towards the door, discovering the Duke.
" Come hither, James (it was thus that he some-
times addressed him), & let us speak without reserve
about My Lady Norwich."
The Duke of Monmouth, at these words, did not
doubt but that his father knew of his own passion for
this Lady & that he was going to reproach him for it.
He began to speak hastily. " You are asking me, Sir,
to make the frank avowal of my attachment for her ?
I owe too much respect to your Majesty to fail in
sincerity. Yes, Sir, it is true that I have loved her, &
perhaps she would not have hated me had I been able
to pursue her more assiduously "
The King, amazed at these words stared at him.
Sadly he said : " Complete what Buckingham hath
begun"
But too late did the Duke realise how great an
imprudence he had committed in replying to the King
before he knew upon what subject his Majesty wished
to interrogate him. The varied thoughts that chased
through his mind put him into such a confusion that
he had not the power to make any reply.
" I had chosen you to be the confidant of my
unhappiness ! " cried the King, breaking the silence.
" I wished to tell you that I loved to my shame, (hardly
ever hath a Lover been more unhappy than I,) that
I loved My Lady Norwich ; loved her well, & with
such a respectful passion that when she had occasion to
44
COURT OF ENGLAND
remark, that she wished the matter kept an inviolable
secret, I used all my application to conceal my senti-
ments. Satisfied to discover them to her alone, I
awaited the hour that would bring me the happiness,
I should not owe to my importunities, but solely to
her gratitude for my constancy. She carefully avoided
showing me any favour, & whilst my heart was fretted
with suffering, I did not cease to feel gratification at
finding a woman could be so virtuous. My esteem
augmented my desire, & all the time I was but a
tool ! Whilst you & Buckingham enjoyed her tender-
ness / languished a submissive Lover, & sighed without
complaining ! "
The Duke of Monmouth, who had by this time
recovered himself, respectfully said that his own
intrigue with her ladyship should certainly not add to
his Majesty's vexation, for he would never see her
again.
" When one hath begun to love the son," said the
King, interrupting him, " it is rare that one returns to
the Father. I should therefore make a great mistake
if I flattered myself with any hopes. I swear I shall
regard Buckingham as a Rival far less to be feared.
We are nearly the same age, 1 but with regard to you
the thing is quite different."
" I hardly know what I might have promised myself
in regard to Lady Norwich," said the Duke ; " but I
do know most fortunately that for some time past I
have neglected her."
" That is your doing rather than hers," said the
King, "nor is she to my mind the more excusable
thereby. She hath deceived me by a thousand
artifices. . . . Still her husband is going to confine
her in the depth of the country. ... I pity her
1 The King was two years the junior of Buckingham whilst his son
was nineteen years younger than he.
45
MEMOIRS OF THE
budding charms. . . . What will she do in the wilds
of Wales ? It is very certain she will not find three
lovers like those she leaves at Whitehall. . . . Go,
James, go, and give the order in my name that some
guards are to follow and bring her back. To make the
husband return let him be told that he is required here
for my service ! "
Delighted to be charged with such a Commission
the Duke immediately left the King, going in search of
the Duke of Buckingham in the little gallery where he
expected to find him awaiting him. For some time
he walked down it without seeing him, but at length
he discovered him pressed against a door, listening
attentively. Perceiving the Duke of Monmouth, he
signed to him not to make a noise & to approach.
" I do not know if I am dreaming or if I am awake,"
said he as soon as the latter was near enough for him to
be able to speak in a low tone, " but I swear to you that
I hear the voice of our inamorata !"
" You are so occupied with her," replied the other,
" that you are always thinking you hear her."
" I will give place to you," said Buckingham,
motioning him to change places. " Just listen a little."
The Duke of Monmouth then heard a woman's voice.
" Alas, my lord ! " she was saying, " your skilful
rescue of me is not enough for I now find myself in a
more cruel position than ever. What will become of
me ? What will the Court think of an experience so
singular as mine ? "
" Do not disturb yourself, Madam," said the person
she had addressed, " You are now in a place where you
are Mistress. The Marquis de Blanquefort l is en-
tirely ignorant of the reason for which I asked him for
1 Louis Duras, Earl of Feversham, Marquis de Blanquefort in
the French Peerage, Lord of the Bedchamber to King Charles II,
K.G., b. 1638, d. 1709.
4 6
COURT OF ENGLAND
the loan of his apartment, nor will he come back until
he returns from his attendance on the King. I am
now going to find you a pleasant & secretly situated
lodging whence you can make your arrangements,
& dictate conditions to your husband at your con-
venience.
" But, Madam," he continued in a passionate voice,
" dare I ask of you that I shall share those arrange-
ments ? Are you always going to treat me with
rigour ? Is the service I have just rendered you of no
worth ? "
" I am not in a state to reply to you, my lord," said
My Lady Norwich (for it was really she). " And I beg
you to observe you should not ask me such a question
at a time when I cannot dispense with your services.
It detracts from the generosity of your heart, & affronts
the delicacy of mine."
" Ha ! Madam," said my lord, heaving a profound
sigh. " The manner in which I have ever loved you
is proof enough that I am neither wanting in respect
or devotion. No, you do not regard me with favour.
I realise that, notwithstanding the vehemence with
which you endeavour to conceal your sentiments.
Still, even if you are quite indifferent to me, I have
the sad consolation of knowing that I have left nothing
undone whereby I might serve you."
There then followed some words that the listeners
did not catch, because, realising that the lady or her
cavalier was on the point of coming out, they promptly
retired into the doorway of a little secondary flight of
stairs which led up to the apartments of the Countess
of Fingal. It was easy for them to see from this place
anyone who came from out of the room under observa-
tion, &, an instant after, the door opened & there issued
forth My Lord Russell. 1
1 William Russell, Lord Russell, b. September 29, 1639, was the eldest
47
MEMOIRS OF THE
The Duke of Monmouth could not prevent himself
from laughingly observing, " Here, then, is another of
our Rivals ; but from his manner of speaking I do not
think he is one of the most dangerous ! 5:
After this he told his companion about his conversa-
tion with the King, & of the order that his Majesty
had given him to send after the Countess & bring her
back.
" My dear lord," said the Duke of Buckingham,
embracing him, " no doubt you have the key of the
Marquis de Blanquefort's room ; will you render me
an inestimable service ? ' :
" It is true that in my capacity of Captain of the
Body Guard I have the key of the rooms of the two
Lieutenants, so that if it should happen that there
were night orders to be given I might enter the more
promptly."
" Ha ! Of your mercy give it me & I will profit by
it immediately to see My Lady Norwich."
" If the King knew of my doing so it would not take
much more for me to lose his good graces."
" But who will tell him ? " interrupted the Duke of
Buckingham. " It would not be I who would betray
you at the very time I was indebted to you by such a
precious obligation."
"No, it would not be you," said His Grace of
Monmouth, "but it might be My Lord Russell."
"He is not a sorcerer," observed the other with a
laugh, "& he would need be one, to divine that I
am here in this particular spot with you who are
disposed to lend me the key."
" One would have to be an even greater sorcerer,"
surviving son of the first Duke of Bedford, by Anne, daughter and heiress
of Carr, Earl of Somerset and his Countess, Frances Howard, the divorced
wife of Essex. Lord Russell, m. 1669, Lady Rachel Wriothesly, and was
beheaded in Lincoln's Inn Fields, July 21, 1683.
4 8
COURT OF ENGLAND
replied the Duke of Monmouth, " to divine that I
should neglect my own interests, in lending you the
key, at the time when I know you are my Rival."
" If you were not nearly recovered from this
passion," interrupted his friend, " I would rather die
than ask such a sacrifice of you, but from yourself I am
aware of the state of your heart."
Upon this the younger Duke gave him the key, but
fearing that some one might have seen her ladyship
enter the Marquis de Blanquefort's room & have told
the King, he in doing so extracted a promise from
Buckingham that he would make no use of it until after
his Majesty had started for the Chase.
49
CHAPTER VI
A soon as the Duke of Buckingham had wit-
nessed the King's departure he proceeded
to the gallery in a state of supreme emotion
& agitated by a thousand different feelings.
He went in search of a woman he loved tenderly ; but
he was so jealous, that when he recalled that she had
such a number of adorers, and reflected that perhaps
he had been sacrificed to them all he felt inclined to
hate her.
Occupied by these varied reflections he advanced
into the gallery, his step now precipitate, now laggard ;
his mind was in a whirl, & he was unusually agitated.
The Duchess of Buckingham, having passed a part
of the morning with My Lady Fingal, 1 happened to be
descending by the latter ? s little private stairs into the
gallery when she saw her unfaithful husband coming
towards her. She immediately assumed that as he had
not followed the King to the Chase there were things
afoot that were contrary to her interests. Waiting
with the door that shut off the stairs ajar, she beheld
the Duke open that of the Marquis de Blanquefort &
enter his room. Emerging quietly from her hiding
place, she hesitated for a moment debating with herself
whether she should knock, when to her great delight
1 Margaret, daughter of Donogh, third Earl of Clancarty, and
niece of the Duke of Ormonde (1639-84), b. ?, d. January I, 1703.
She was in the household of the Queen whom she accompanied to
Portugal after her Majesty's widowhood, as first lady-in-waiting.
5
COURT OF ENGLAND
she perceived that the door was not shut fast. For the
Duke, all occupied with his passion, had forgotten to
take the key 1 in with him. She pushed the door a little
further open & glided in.
The shutters of this little apartment were closed,
it was a precaution that Lady Norwich had taken on
entering, fearing she might otherwise be observed.
There was a closet leading out of the room.
Upon entering the room and not seeing anyone the
Duke passed on into the closet, whilst his wife, not
knowing where to hide, quietly crept on to the bed
the curtains of which were drawn. To what chagrin,
Grand Dieu ! did she not expose herself by her
imprudent curiosity ; she thought ere she left that
room that she would have died of grief.
One saw a little more clearly in the closet than in
the Chamber & recognising the Duke My Lady
Norwich cried out loudly :
" What is it you, my lord ? Is it you who dare
appear before me after having refused me the assistance
I required of you, & asked with so much urgency ! By
what indiscretion hath My Lord Russell discovered my
retreat to you ? It was my desire to hide it as much
from you as from my husband ! r
" If you were less unhappy or I less weak where you
are concerned, Madam," replied the Duke of Bucking-
ham, " I could make reproaches that were more subtle
than yours. I have not neglected on this occasion to
render you all necessary service, & I was on the point
of mounting my horse to follow & to snatch you from
your indignant spouse, exposing myself thereby to
the jealousy of my wife if not to greater troubles-
when chance discovered to me that you were in this
room. I was overcome with joy. Yes, unfaithful
1 Handle catches are of comparatively modern introduction. In
Paris latches were lifted by the key alone within living memory.
MEMOIRS OF THE
one," continued he, " despite the Rivals that you give
me, & the care you take to preserve them ; notwith-
standing your infidelity and my just resentment I love
you still. Love you with sufficient passion, that,
having found you, I am filled with happiness "
" I did not think," interrupted the lady curtly,
" that you would have added further offences to those
which already vex me ! It is thanks to you alone, that
I find myself in the deplorable state in which I am.
Before that unhappy assignation, where I was dis-
covered, was there a woman of this Court whose
honour had more supporters or fewer detractors ? It
is through you I suffer & you insult me. Go, my
lord, go ! I want neither your heart nor your pity,
your presence is the last misfortune."
The Duke was far too moved to enter into explana-
tions. Throwing himself at her knees he embraced
them with much passion. " I am not in a condition,"
said he, " to combat your anger by reasons ; they
would only appear offensive to you. You would not
like it if I reproached you for your attachment to the
King, or to the Duke of Monmouth, or to My Lord
Russell, and all of this hath come to my knowledge,
causing me mortal displeasure. No, Madam, I will
say nothing that will annoy you, I will even avow that
I too have failed, so that you grant me pardon."
My Lady Norwich had believed her intrigues secret,
& when the Duke spoke with so much freedom her
anger so increased as to be impossible to describe ! So
far from pacifying her his words reduced her to a state
of raging fury that was utterly beyond control.
" I never wish to see you again," she shrieked,
escaping from his proximity. " Leave me immediately
or I shall go myself. However great the danger be, I
prefer to risk it rather than remain here with
you." In saying these words she ran towards the
COURT OF ENGLAND
door of the Chamber & finding it open, promptly
went out.
The Duke had remained in the Closet, endeavouring
to form in his mind some scheme of action whereby his
Mistress might be appeased. As soon as he felt capable
he passed into the Chamber where he expected to see
her, & hearing some noise near the bed he approached,
never doubting but that it was her. It was, however,
his wife who had remained there all this time, & who
was no less irritated than Lady Norwich. She rudely
repulsed her husband when he would have thrown
himself at her feet ; so taking her hands he kissed them
many times with fervent passion, & the greater the
devotion he exhibited, the greater was the Duchess's
despondency.
" How much am I to be pitied," she thought, " that
I cannot free myself from this traitor. How the marks
of his tenderness, so dear to me at other times, do now
but swell my misery & my anguish. I owe it all to my
Rival, & such poisoned sweetnesses as these mortally
hurt a heart so delicate as mine."
These reflections increased her ill-humour so much
that snatching her hands away from the Duke she
repulsed him, and utterly refused to listen any more.
Such rigour in a person one greatly loves so far from
weakening passion materially strengthens it, & however
submissive & respectful the Duke might be, he would
never have abandoned his intention of coaxing his
Mistress to a reconciliation, had he not perceived that
the person with whom he was had little, thin arms &
withered hands, which did not bear the least resem-
blance to those of the Lady Norwich. He thought it
was not possible that a few hours of trouble could have
wrought this surprising change.
For a while he remained immovable, & then he
thought of going towards the window in order to open
MEMOIRS OF THE
the shutters but the remembrance of the chagrin
which was certain to follow his enlightenment kept him
lingering in front of his wife. Just then My Lord
Russell returned to escort My Lady Norwich to a
house of which he was the master. Much surprised to
find the door open, he pushed it gently, & on perceiving
a man there facing a woman he thought he would have
had a fit.
Jealousy often blinds the eyes. Whatever difference
there may have been between the Duchess of Bucking-
ham & My Lady Norwich he never for one moment
thought it other than the latter, who thus by infidelity
rewarded the essential service he had rendered her. It
so overcame him that he had not the strength to
advance & discover himself.
The Duke on his part had now sufficient light from
the door, My Lord Russell had just opened, to recognise
her with whom he was. Barely had he cast his eyes on
the face of his wife than he sank into the profoundest
despair ; whilst the Duchess, more affected by the
state to which he was reduced than by his proceedings,
sought to throw herself upon his neck and embrace
him.
At first the Duke was not master of his movements ;
he repulsed her with a disdainful air. What a sight for
My Lord Russell ! He had stopped near the door, &
his mind possessed of My Lady Norwich ever saw her
in her Grace of Buckingham, & if he had only consulted
his resentment & his fury he would have been carried
to the last extremity ; but he remembered that such
a thing would make too great a to-do & would attract
too many spectators. He had now had time to
recognise the Duke, & upon making sure that it was he
retired in the most violent displeasure imaginable,
whilst the Duchess levelled a thousand reproaches at
her husband.
54
COURT OF ENGLAND
" What, hath all my faithfulness & all my tenderness
merited no more than that another should reign in
your heart ? That heart which, belonging to me
alone, & the only pleasure of my life, yet never ceases
to take fresh engagements. My unhappy fortune to-
day conducted me hither, to make me a witness of your
transports for another, & to disgrace me before you.
And I love you so dearly, so blindly, that at the very
moment you outraged me most, I was so weak as to
enter into your interests. Your pain was more
grievous to me than mine. . . . Ah ! once again I
abandon my own feelings, let me share yours, & console
me only with a word, a look Ah, what am I saying ? "
she cried as she realised his coldness. " Alas ! you
refuse me everything ! "
Moved rather by gratitude than tenderness the
Duke came to her side & replied to her reproaches in a
manner so gentle & insinuating that her despair was a
little calmed.
When he perceived that her mind was in a more
tranquil state he left her that he might look for Lady
Norwich. The manner in which she had retired
caused him the cruellest misdoubts, surely never had a
man found himself more unhappy.
55
CHAPTER VII
ON leaving the chamber of the Marquis de
Blanquefort the first person encountered
by the Duke of Buckingham was the confi-
dante of My Lady Norwich.
" Heaven hath sent thee l to my aid," said he,
stopping her. " Thou must at once reveal to me,
Esther, where thy Mistress is. I will not make any
bad use of the knowledge ; I only ask so much of her
secret to serve her ; and to prove the particular
trust I have in thee, here is a ring I wish thee to
receive."
At the sight of this Esther felt her fidelity waver.
" I do not doubt, my lord," said she, " that your love
for my Mistress is sufficient to impel you to endeavour
to find means whereby she may be delivered from the
embarrassment in which she finds herself. But this is
not a place where I can speak to you without fear."
" Follow me at a distance," said the Duke finding
that she spoke good sooth, " & conceal thyself * that
thou mayst not be recognised." His impatience was
too great for him to defer long a conversation, which
could explain what he desired so much to know, &, as
1 Despite the sentimental employment of the second person singular
by the historical novelists, its use was in the seventeenth century exclu-
sively confined both in France and England to the upper classes who
employed it when addressing menials and those much their inferiors.
It was because the plural " you " signified respect George Fox forbade
its use amongst the Quakers.
2 In her hood.
56
COURT OF ENGLAND
they were passing before the apartment of the Earl of
Clarendon, 1 Great Chamberlain of the Queen, who,
he knew, was not there just then, the Duke entered,
motioning Esther to follow.
As soon as the door was carefully shut, this girl
commenced to recite to him all the humiliations her
Mistress had endured since her husband had found her
in the Park.
She told him of the resolution that she had made to
go to her sister ; in what manner her jaloux had
prevented it, & his design to take her into the country ;
how, not knowing any remedy for this last evil, she
had written the note that had been delivered to him at
the King's, but that being in fear lest his help should
not come sufficiently promptly her Mistress had also
written to My Lord Russell, intreating him to find
some means to prevent her being taken into Pembroke-
shire. She told him further that being so afflicted at
the uncertainty of what might happen when her
husband had made her leave at daybreak she had thrown
herself in utter desolation at the bottom of the
Carriage, wondering every moment if no one would
come to her aid.
Continuing Esther said :
" My Lord Russell then came in a Carriage at full
speed, approaching ours so closely that at the first
impact he upset us. Next, descending from his own
coach he dragged my Mistress out of our wrecked
vehicle, telling her, in a low voice, to retire, & that at
the entrance of the wood through which we were
passing when the ruse was effected, she would find a
Carriage and a Gentleman 2 who would conduct her
1 Henry Hyde (1638-1709) succeeded his father as second Earl of
Clarendon December 9, 1674.
2 Many allusions to gentlemen in attendance occur in the course c
the narrative. In the happy days before the telephone, the telegraph,
MEMOIRS OF THE
to Whitehall. She did not hesitate, risking everything
to obey, although my Master was even then endeavour-
ing to leave his overturned carriage. To prevent this
my Lord Russell adroitly occupied the doorway,
making many compliments the while & asking pardon
for the churlishness of his coachman. In this manner
he continued to gain time while my Master despaired
within where he was with one of his Gentlemen &
myself. We were, all three, the one on the top of the
other not even able to put a head outside, because of
the long and continued civility of My Lord Russell,
who he said could not find it in his heart to leave us.
At last my Master in great anger cried to him : ' Hey,
Is it not sufficient that you have upset my Carriage ?
Have you resolved to suffocate me ? I have two of
my people, on the top of me ! '
" ' If you desire it,' coolly replied My Lord Russell,
' I will chastise my Coachman and my Postilion. There
is nothing that I will not do to preserve to me the
honour of your friendship.' Having said these words,
which caused my Master the greatest impatience, he
returned to his carriage just as they raised up ours.
" In what a fury, bon Dieu, did our jaloux find
himself when on looking on all sides he failed to dis-
cover his wife, & could not obtain any explanation from
any of his people to whom he addressed himself. He
never doubted but that she had profited by the
occasion to escape ; but still he would not break his
resolution to make neither noise nor disturbance. So
he feigned a tranquil air, saying aloud that no doubt
and the railway train it was the privilege of noblemen to advertise
their dignity by the number of such retainers they could afford. The
custom, in a limited degree,[is still active in royal establishments. The
gentleman's duties were numerous. He ran confidential errands,
he was the bearer of verbal messages, he acted as secretary to his employer
and as escort to his employer's wife. He was rather like the marshal
of a Judge on Circuit.
COURT OF ENGLAND
her ladyship had returned to London. We also took
that road and I am quite certain that his mind was in
a whirl. The moment he arrived home he shut him-
self up in his Closet. Subsequently he went out,
whilst I continued in the greatest disquiet as to where
my Mistress might have found a haven, until a Gentle-
man came from My Lady Feismouth to tell me to go
and join her there.
" I went immediately. I found my Mistress in this
lady's room. She related to me a part of what I have
just been telling you. She was in a state of surprise
because My Lord Russell had not returned as he
promised. She bade me go and find him ; I promptly
obeyed. As I do not wish to conceal anything from
you -I must tell you that I found him in the most
violent temper that can be imagined.
" ' Go,' he cried, ' go and tell thy Mistress that she
is unworthy of an honest man's attachment ; tell her
that what has passed to-day will live in my mind for
ever ; tell her that all I ask her is that of her goodness
she will leave me in peace ! '
" I was returning to deliver this beautiful message
when we met."
When the Duke of Buckingham had heard all this he
heaved a profound sigh.
" What could My Lord Russell have thought ? " he
asked. " Did he not explain himself ? "
" He pretends," replied she, " that when he opened
the Marquis de Blanquefort's door, he saw, in spite of
the darkness, my Mistress sitting on the bed & a
Cavalier with her ; that the sight caused him to retire
in a nearly frantic condition, being persuaded, as he
was, that this companion could be no other than your-
self.
" Helas ! it was indeed I," said the Duke, inter-
rupting her, " but it was not my happy fortune to have
S9
MEMOIRS OF THE
your Mistress with me. Thou seest all my weakness,"
continued he, " for this inconstant^ creature What
other name, grand Dieu, can I give her ? The King,
the Duke of Monmouth and My Lord Russell are her
lovers ; she manages them, she mystifies me, for if
she hath no thought of favouring them she would have
told me herself what I found out afterwards."
" I have several times represented to her that she
ought to tell you," said Esther, " but my lord, she
feared to awaken in you a restless jealousy ; for I must
most positively assure you that even if she encouraged
the Duke of Monmouth more than the others, it was
only because she desired to make you jealous and to
cause you uneasiness. 1 When after your quarrel at
Tunbridge you were once more reconciled you ren-
dered her attentions of which she fully knew the value,
the Duke of Monmouth had also changed and only
observed the usual politenesses, & so she decided not
to trouble you with it. As for My Lord Russell she
has ever treated him with complete indifference
hardly giving him a thought ; whilst the King, not-
withstanding his grandeur & his rank, has, I assure,
nothing more from her than subjects for com-
plaint "
" How rightly thou knowest," said the Duke inter-
rupting her, " the way to soften my pain & justify thy
Mistress. Go now to her, offer her the service of all I
have, & tell her that, if I were capable of loving her in
the past, when I believed her unfaithful, that I am
capable of everything now that I can flatter myself
that I am not hated. Then return at once and let me
know what measures she proposes to take."
1 The reader's attention is drawn to the manner in which Esther,
in her eagerness to defend her mistress, contradicts herself in a most
natural and life-like way. The whole scene is admirable.
60
COURT OF ENGLAND
The Duke of Buckingham was still waiting in extreme
impatience the return of Esther. He had endeavoured
to while away the time by partaking of some refresh-
ments in Lord Clarendon's apartment. But as it was
now getting late, & he was thoroughly wearied he
decided to go himself to My Lady Feismouth & learn
the news he wished so much to know.
Upon his arrival he found her reclining on a couch,
her handkerchief in her hand, her face covered with
tears.
" Ah my lord," cried she, catching sight of him,
" You come too late ! Poor Lady Norwich is no longer
here ! "
The Duke was amazed ; he changed colour ; for the
moment he could not speak.
" I will," continued she, " tell you the result of a
chance more unhappy than could have possibly been
imagined. You went with Esther to Lord Clarendon's.
She then told you her Mistress's most vital secrets & all
the time My Lord Norwich was in the next room only
separated from the apartment in which you were by a
partition ! Thinking that no one could overhear
what passed you spoke so loudly that this jaloux did
not miss one word of your conversation, learning by this
means many things of which he had hitherto been
entirely ignorant. I may say that the fact of the King
being a partizan of his wife was one of the reasons that
made him abandon the design of asking his Majesty's
aid in constraining her. Upon further discovering
that in leaving the Marquis de Blanquefort's chamber
she had taken shelter with me, he promptly came here
& surprised us. A moment later Esther arrived, & he
obliged her to confess before me all that she had been
telling you ; then he turned to his wife and said in a
tone full of anger :
" ' I am resolved, Madam, to take you away either
61
MEMOIRS OF THE
willingly or by force. Do not doubt but that I mean
it. Choose which you prefer, & which will the most
preserve to you some remnant of reputation ; at least
keep the Comedy from the mob. I have up till now
controlled myself, hiding alike my anger & my shame ;
but if you make me proclaim it, know that you will be
lost for ever. And if you now decline to come with
me I will no longer acknowledge you.'
" Our pretty friend burst into tears. She looked at
me mournfully & I regarded her the same way, being
unable to give her, the jaloux being present, any
useful counsel.
" At last, after many tears and prayers, equally
useless, she told me that she had resolved to suffer,
rather than to push things to an end by an open
rupture with her husband, & accompanied by Esther,
she followed him ; nor was I able to get from him
anything to give me the least inkling as to the place for
which they were bound."
The Duke of Buckingham who had preserved a
profound silence, interrupted her at this point with the
most afflicting outcries.
" Why did you not send to enquire for me,
Madam ! " he cried. " Do you think, had I been here,
that this unjust husband could have dared to carry
away his wife against her wish ! Rather than have
permitted this I would have sacrificed my life."
" I did not see," replied she, " my way to expose
either of you to the risk of such a brawl. On your part,
you are so little the master of your actions, you might
have forgotten the place where we are, & however much
the King may love you, he is adamant in insisting that
his house shall be respected." *
" Ah Madam," interrupted the Duke with great
impatience, " is it respecting it to allow this poor
1 See Appendix A.
62
COURT OF ENGLAND
woman to be carried off by a furious husband ? She
sought an asylum in your arms. You had neither the
courage to retain her there, nor to inform me of her
misfortune ! But I am trifling," he continued, " in
making these useless reproaches. I must take steps for
her ! I must follow her ! I must serve her ! ! "
Thereupon he went out & on descending found My
Lord Russell below. This nobleman could not control
his passion & however ill-used he considered himself by
the continued coldness of the lady he loved & by the
understanding which he thought he had observed
between her and the Duke of Buckingham it was his
wish to smother his anger & to prove his disinterested-
ness. But the actual presence of the Duke troubled
him sorely. Seeing him come from My Lady Feis-
mouth he did not doubt but that My Lady Norwich
had summoned him. He reproached himself at his
continued weakness, was ashamed, & endeavouring to
conquer himself, he turned on his heel.
"Wait a moment my lord," said the Duke,
accosting him, " I know something of what is passing
in your mind and I want to justify to you an innocent
person who is very unhappy."
He then told him of all that I have just recounted.
Continuing his discourse he said :
" You know well, that looking on you as a Rival I
should not trouble myself to set your mind at rest by
telling you the truth about the conduct of this lady
were it not necessary that for her service we should join
hands and that so as to obtain her certain liberty to
follow the desires of her heart, we must combine our
interests for her as best we can. In order that we may
be of effective use to her do not let us disagree."
While My Lord Russell had a strong repugnance for
what the Duke of Buckingham wished, the latter was
possessed of great powers of persuasion. These he
63
COURT OF ENGLAND
now employed on behalf of my Lady Norwich until
My Lord Russell was so struck with his suggestions that
it seemed impossible to oppose them. Moreover he
had not any plans of his own, so he united himself with
this rival & they both swore to serve a Mistress whose
jealous husband was at that very moment embarking
in company with her for the Hague.
Let us leave them at present while we say something
about the Duke of Monmouth.
CHAPTER VIII
THROUGHOUT the hunt on that day the
Duke of Monmouth could not distract
himself from the different thoughts which
agitated him, he could not understand why
the infidelity of either My Lady Norwich or of Emilie
or of both should so afflict him ; his attachment for
them not appearing to him to be of a character to make
him feel either anger or jealousy, for such belong only
to the great passions. But although he was still
sufficiently indifferent to them both, to engage in new
entanglements had any occasions arisen that offered
enough attraction, he continued to suffer through the
loss of these Ladies, though all the while he was quite
capable of forgetting that they had the least hold on
him. It was through this he had convincing proof
that vanity sometimes produces the same effect as love.
He thought over all the evil he would do My Lady
Norwich & all the reproaches with which he would
overwhelm Emilie. Now it pleased him to think that
his intrigue with this beautiful girl should have such a
startling result that all the Court would be aware of it,
thus furnishing him with revenge. Anon he desired
that his rendezvous should be secret, & that his
engaging & ardent demeanour towards her might make
her enter into a serious amour with him.
In this way he communed with himself till the end
of the hunt.
My Lord Arran had on his side an extreme im-
E 6 S
MEMOIRS OF THE
patience to be with Emilie to speak with her freely, for
the strictness of the Mistress of the Maids did not leave
them much time. As this Lady was always highly
suspicious she discovered the interview which was
arranged between Emilie & my lord. Her first idea
was to break up all the arrangements they had made ;
nevertheless it occurred to her, that if she could
surprise this charming maid she would be able to
reprimand her the more severely. Thus the antici-
pated pleasure of discovering her in her fault induced
her to follow a more moderate course, & far from
keeping her under her eye, which she did unceasingly
as a general rule, she gave her unusual liberty. Emilie
did not neglect to profit by this, & pretending to go
to her room to write she descended by a private stair-
way & proceeded to the apartment of the Princess
Anne who for the time being was with her sister the
Princess Mary. 1
Emilie entered the little Salon unseen by any one ;
she closed the shutters for fear that the light of the
Moon might betray her, should any one come in ; for
the same reason she placed herself in a corner secure
from observation.
The Duke of Monmouth was too impatient to let
her wait long. As soon as the hour for the rendezvous
approached, he entered the Salon. Emilie, fearing
1 The two young daughters of the Duke of York, Queens Mary
(b. at St. James's April 30, 1662, m. William, Prince of Orange (1650-1702)
November 14, 1677: crowned conjointly with him April n, 1689, d. at
Kensington, December 20, 1694) anc ^ A 11116 (b. St. James's February 6,
1665, m. Prince George of Denmark (1651-1708) July 20, 1683 : crowned
April 23, 1702, d. August I, 1714), were familiar figures in the
younger generation of the Court of King Charles II. Despite the laxity
of the times the royal maidens were guarded with unremitting strictness
and propriety ; banishment being the punishment meted out to one
daring lover who presumed to declare his passion, by means of a love-
letter, ignominiously impounded to the Lady Anne,
COURT OF ENGLAND
that it was another than My Lord Arran remained
concealed, hoping that to find her he would unbar
the window, when she would see him ; but the Duke,
who had his reasons not to discover himself, remained
in obscurity and only asked in a quiet tone :
" Are you there ? Answer me."
" I am here," replied Emilie, never doubting but
that it was Lord Arran.
It is difficult to describe all that passed in the heart
of the Duke. He was delighted to find a favourable
occasion to converse with this beautiful girl, but he
despaired when he remembered that he did not owe
this chance to her choice. He recollected that it was
not very creditable for him to usurp the place of his
Rival in this manner. He thought twenty times of
going away, but at last with a painful hesitation he
approached her.
She spoke first.
" Well, my lord," said she, " doth not the risk I
run in order to speak with you thus convince you that
you alone possess the preference of my heart ? Will
you continue to torment me on the subject of the Duke
of Monmouth ? "
" Is it possible," said he disguising his voice, " that
you would for my sake sacrifice him without a qualm as
if you had no inclination at all for him ? "
" I would sacrifice him willingly," said she, " though,
as I always desire to be candid, I must admit that he is
agreeable "
" I have remarked," he interrupted, " that he loves
you & that he takes great pleasure in telling you so.
There is also a certain languishing expression in his
eyes which one does not notice there when he is with
others."
" I do not think he is indifferent to me," Emilie
admitted.
MEMOIRS OF THE
" He hath boasted," said the Duke, " that you have
promised him a share of your tenderness, & if he con-
tinues to give you his care you will abandon me."
" I am surprised," said she, " that he should dare to
say a thing so far from the truth."
" You are surprised ! " said the Duke resuming his
natural voice. " Ton are surprised ? And you come
here to betray my passion and your vows."
Emilie recognised the voice with surprise and
emotion. It was several minutes before she could
recover herself. The Duke wished to leave her but
she prevented him. " Ah, my lord, grant me one
moment ; listen to me. I am going to avow to you a
thing which will not displease you ; it is you only that
I love ; it is you only that I consider "
" It seems so, Mistress ! " replied he. " You would
have to adopt more convincing methods to persuade
me of it."
" What would you have me do ? " she cried, weeping
bitterly, " I had scarcely arrived at the' Court when he
professed a violent attachment for me and became
unfaithful to Miledy ... by whom he was tenderly
loved. My vanity was agreeably flattered to think
myself preferred to a woman so amiable, and my heart,
in its first innocence, listened with pleasure to the sighs
of this new love. I thought he would marry me after
his wife, so long a helpless invalid, had died, 1 this
hope made me the more ready to receive his letters
and to write to him. Alas ! I am confessing things
which are not to my advantage, in order that you may
understand that, having so compromised myself with
a man who has not any control when enraged, I have
been obliged even against my will to follow the course
whither my imprudence had led me. Would you have
preferred, my lord, that he should speak ill of me !
1 Lady Arran died July 4, 1668.
68
MARY KIRKE ('EMILIE')
From a mezzotint after Lely in the possession of the Edit 01
Kocquet
COURT OF ENGLAND
Would you consider me worthy of your regard if my
fair fame suffered in the world ? "
Her tears succeeded in persuading the Duke that she
had not done wrong. His love for her was more
recent than that of Lord Arran & he was sufficiently
conscious of his worth to believe easily that Emilie was
not mistaken when she assured him that he held a
greater place in her heart than his rival. Nor did he
trouble to obtain further confirmation of the truth of
this desirable state of affairs. And while they were
making their arrangements that their love might not
be interrupted, I will tell you what was passing in the
gallery of the Queen, between Miledy ... & My
Lord Arran.
Upon the return from the Chase, where he had
followed the King, he changed his attire, & neglected
nothing that would contribute to make him appear
fillant. Miledy ... on her part the better to imitate
milie who was then in mourning, 1 took a black robe
trimmed with crespe. 2 Her mask which was very
large covered nearly all her face. She entered the
gallery by a little door which communicated with a
private stair & My Lord Arran came from the apart-
ment of the Queen ; there was no other light than
that of the moon, whose beams almost made a new
day.
Miledy . . . was waiting in a corner, when my lord
came to her. Taking her hands, which he kissed
several times, he exclaimed: "At last! It is now,
most charming Emilie, that you cause all my doubts to
vanish. I should be ashamed to have been jealous if
1 For her father, see Preface, p. xv, and Note, p. 8.
2 Crespe (old French for crepe) was evidently unknown in England for
mourning in 1708, the date of the first translation, for this sentence is
rendered there ; " dressed herself in a black nightdress [dressing-gown in
modern parlance] which nearly covered her face."
69
MEMOIRS OF THE
it were not such a proof of my passion & my tenderness
that you must credit it in my favour."
O Dieu,how great was Miledy's . . . resentment in
the cruel moment when this man, for whom she had
the greatest tenderness in the world, played her such a
scurvy trick. She had not strength to reply to him
but her silence did not surprise him as much as might
have been expected.
" You fear, beautiful Emilie," continued he, " that
the step that you have taken in my favour may be
known ; you ar~e nervous and trembling ; reassure
yourself, & do not refuse me some proof of your
love."
" What shall I say to you ? " asked Miledy ... in
a tone of voice so changed by the state in which she
was that it was quite unnecessary that she should try to
disguise it. " What shall I say to you, my lord ? I
am less agitated by the fear of being found with you
(though it is a matter that is of vital concern to me) than
by the fear that you still love Miledy ..."
" / love her ! " cried he. " Do you take me for a
lunatic ? What comparison is there between your
charms and hers ? Between a passion newly-born to
one that is expiring, between a woman who quarrels
with me continually, & a girl whom I adore ? >:
" But my lord," said she, interrupting him, " you
owe her a thousand obligations. You have sworn
eternal fidelity to her, & if you show so little gratitude
to her, what treatment can I hope for from you ? "
" What favours she has given me," said he, " are
more the effect of her caprice than of real affection.
Chance so willed it that she found it worth while to
take me into her reckoning ; but clever as she is she
could not herself give a really good reason for it "
Miledy ... at these words lost all control.
" Of all men the most perfidious ! " she cried. " It
70
COURT OF ENGLAND
is not then enough to fail in all you owe me, but you
belittle that tenderness through which you won me ?
You attribute it to a silly and ridiculous whim ! But
you speak truly, for have I not been so foolish and
extravagant as to listen to you or believe in you ? This
is the outcome of tears more treacherous than a
Crocodile's ! This is the result of vows so many times
renewed ! Go impostor ! Go perjurer ! I resign
you to your own remorse. I am sufficiently revenged,
even as I have sufficient courage left amply sufficient
to tear you from my heart ! >:
But she had not yet finished administering her well-
merited reproofs. My lord, confused and dismayed,
listened to her without having the courage to reply ;
whilst she, finding a certain relief in the harsh truths
with which she had bombarded him, was about to
continue when she was interrupted in a manner which
equally surprised and embarrassed her.
It was the gouvernante of the Maids of Her Royal
Highness the Duchess of York and the sous-gouver-
nante 1 who had placed themselves as sentinels at the
little door of the gallery who had seen her pass and
taken her for Emilie.
They entered some while after, and now came &
threw themselves upon her like a couple of furies. My
Lord Arran troubled himself but little with what they
did, or what was going on ; he retired promptly,
his heart full of regret at having had so disagreeable
an adventure instead of what he had hoped for
with Emilie, & in his chagrin he found some kind of
consolation at the unexpected arrival of these two
Ladies.
In the meantime they were exerting all their efforts to
oblige Miledy ... to leave the corner in which she was
1 We have been unable to trace the identity of this assistant Mother
of the Maids.
71
MEMOIRS OF THE
entrenched ; but with the fear of being recognised she
defended herself stubbornly, struggling with them for
a long time. Her outraged feelings a ad anger at the
attack of these two oldsters caused her, at length, to
strike them with all her force & having found under
her hand the cane of My Lord Arran which he in his
mental confusion had forgotten she made several cuts
at them which were received with little patience.
The duenna had her goloshes ; 1 (it is the fashion in
England that ladies should wear them) & at first she
used these as weapons of defence, but they soon became
weapons of offence, & inflicted cruel wounds upon poor
Miledy . . .
From that point the conflict not being equal she
grew weary of the fight but it nevertheless continued
until the Duke of Monmouth, who had a malicious wish
to see how the nocturnal rendezvous had gone off,
entered the Gallery with a Footman carrying a
flambeau before him. Had it been the head of
Medusa instead of a torch it could not have produced
more surprising effects. The two duenne at the sight
of Miledy . . . became as immovable as statues, whilst
she on her side was so afflicted at being recognised by
these two old dragons, in addition to being already
so overcome with grief, that she did not know what
to do. The cane fell from her hands ; the gouver-
nante threw the goloshes at her, with an indignant air,
mumbling the while through her teeth that her
informer would repent of having given her such
erroneous information. Then, without entering into
any explanations, the couple retired.
As soon as they had departed Miledy . . . told the
Footman to go away, and, falling into a chair looked at
1 Goloshes were in use in England from the fourteenth century.
Mention of them is to be found from that time onward, in Shakespeare,
Pepys, &c. They were not of course made of rubber until recently.
72
COURT OF ENGLAND
the Duke with eyes, which though swimming with
tears were ablaze with anger.
" Ha, my lord," she said, drawing a deep breath,
" how much better is a tender doubt to a cruel cer-
tainty. I know now, I can no longer have the
shadow of an excuse for questioning it, that Lord
Arran loves Emilie, and that he is a traitor. He hath
treated me in a way I can never overlook ! "
" What, Madam ; you complain at having your eyes
opened ! You should be glad. And if you must
lament rather should you do so because you still retain
any feeling for one so ungrateful."
" And who told you ? " she demanded shortly,
" that I am sufficiently indifferent to banish this man
from my heart at once, a man who ought indeed to
appear to me odious, but whom, alas ! I still love.
My reason counsels that I should hate him but my
heart begs grace for him ; my heart is at war with my
good sense, & far from entering into the interests of
my reputation, it speaks in favour of a traitor who
would grudge a sigh for my comfort. If you had
seen," she continued, " with what haste he fled away
when those implacable oldsters assailed me ! O Dieu /
you would have greater pity for me, in the faint &
desolate condition in which you find me now ! "
Her tears, which she had only restrained with effort,
ran with such an abundance at that moment as to
cover all her face, & concealing it with her fan she rose
to retire. The Duke gave her his hand to her apart-
ment, nor did he leave her there without feeling much
sympathy at the trouble to which he saw her reduced.
73
I
CHAPTER IX
misfortunes which had overtaken My
Lord Arran could hardly have been more
cruel, & in the first flush of his anger
he proceeded to St. James's Palace to
endeavour to see Emilie & reproach her for what she
had just done. He very strongly suspected that it
was through her manoeuvres alone that he had found
Miledy in the Gallery & it was his intention to display
the utmost resentment of this treatment ; but they
told him in the Ante-chamber that no one could be
received, as Madame la Duchesse had miscarried. 1
If in one way he was sorry not to speak with Emilie,
he flattered himself in another it was owing to this
accident happening to her Highness that this beautiful
girl had been unable to get away. One is always
glad to find an excuse that will justify the person one
loves. He concluded that she knew nothing of his
encounter with Miledy ... & through this his anger
was partly abated.
As a matter of fact it was not through Emilie that
the Mother of the Maids had her information, but
through one of her companions who had privately
discovered the assignation, and who could not refrain
from betraying it to the duenna. To tell the truth
she was less animated by a spirit of propriety than by a
secret jealousy that she had conceived respecting
1 " S'etoit blessee." Cf. Noel Williams' A Rose of Savoy, p. 342,
where this contemporary colloquialism is explained.
74
COURT OF ENGLAND
Emilie. She was not less amiable than the latter, &
she had more wit, in fact the only advantage that
could be accredited to Emilie was a childish air touched
with wilfulness which was very attractive. Fila-
delphe * being older by some years was also more
prudent, for she dissembled under an apparent
languor, which she took care to attribute to her bad
health, the inclination that she felt for the Duke of
Monmouth. It was in regard to his relations with
her Rival that Filadelphe more particularly studied
his sentiments. When she found that the Duke was
confident of his success in that direction she fell into
a deplorable melancholy, & wished him mortal evil
for loving any one save herself ; she habitually either
scorned him or spoke slightingly to him ; though at
the very time her heart secretly yearned over him,
her repellent manner had so thoroughly alienated his
sympathies that he hardly ever went near her. How
this increased the misery of this proud high-spirited
soul, who would not make any advance, & was yet
consumed by a fire she could not quench ! All that
was left her was to tease Emilie, giving her slaps the
more dangerous because she did not realise whose was
the hand that dealt them.
Filadelphe had passed all the evening in her chamber,
where she had shut herself up for the express purpose of
1 Margaret Blagge, b. August 2, 1652, daughter of Colonel Thomas
Blagge, Groom of the Bedchamber to Charles I. In 1666 she was
appointed Maid of Honour to Anne Hyde Duchess of York. Upon the
latter's death she was transferred to the service of the Queen. She
appears to have temporarily returned to the York Household shortly
before she quitted the Court upon her marriage in 1675, to Sydney
Godolphin (b. 1645, d. 1712), subsequently Lord High Treasurer 1704,
K.G. Created Earl of Godolphin &c. 1706. She died in childbed
September 9, 1678, leaving an only son Francis (d. 1766). He married
Henrietta Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough in her own right, by whom
he had two daughters. Life by John Evelyn 1847. See Introduction,
pp. xviii-xix.
75
MEMOIRS OF THE
dreaming over the humiliation Emilie would experience
on being surprised with Lord Arran. She was
impatiently awaiting the return of the gouvernante &
the sous- gouvernante when they knocked with all their
might at the door, & obliged her to open it.
" I cannot inform you," said the gouvernante^ looking
at her crossly, " that we have not any reward for those
who have advised you with regard to the matter in
which we have just been engaged. We have, through
you, been led into a great folly and you shall certainly
suffer for it."
Filadelphe was much astonished. She assured them
that she had seen Emilie receive My Lord Arran's
Tablets, and that when the latter opened them she
had placed herself behind her at such a nice angle
as to be able to read both the Billet and its reply.
" Yes, you read it very accurately," broke in the
gouvernante. " No better proofs are wanted than
that which has passed."
At the moment they were thus disputing Emilie came
in. She had just parted from the Duke of Monmouth.
He had told her how he had deceived My Lord
Arran and they had rejoiced together at the young
man's expense. Neither of them had looked for such
activity in the gouvernante.
As soon as those now present perceived Emilie they
advanced, & seizing her by the arm demanded three or
four times in urgent tones " Where do you come from ?
Where do you come from ? "
Emilie was confounded. She concluded they had
been listening. She blushed. She lowered her eyes.
Then after having considered for an instant what she
should say, she told them that she came from the
Princess Mary. They said she must at once tell
them who was there, & what they were doing, and
that they would forthwith proceed to verify it.
COURT OF ENGLAND
Much exasperated by this searching examination
Emilie replied rudely that, thanks to Heaven, there
was no Inquisition in England, & that she declined to
reply to questions only framed to perplex her ; that
if they were in such an agony to know what had passed
at the Princess's they could go and find out, for it was
not her nature to be a tattler.
Such an arrogant answer from a young person who
had been the cause of all the humiliation that the
gouvernante had just suffered naturally drew a severe
reproof. She threatened Emilie that she would inform
her Highness of her conduct, but the latter, knowing
that the Duchess was not in a condition to listen to
such things would not in the least abate her dignity ;
this was perhaps as well for her, & if she had proved
more yielding her opponents might have gained
greater advantages over her.
In the mean time Miledy . . . passed the most
cruel night possible to a woman of pride and spirit
who was betrayed by a man that she did not know
how to hate & with whom she was well aware she
must absolutely break, or resign herself to suffer new
humiliations every day.
" Ah too intrusive curiosity ! " she said. " Why did
I pretend to pass for Emilie ? Ought I not rather
to have consulted my heart ere consenting to convict
this traitor of his unfaithfulness ? I should then have
taken cognizance of all my weakness, this knowledge
would have prevented me from embarking in any
proceeding that would certify his ingratitude to me.
But now ! I have put him into such a state that
he will have nothing further to do with me, for he will
regard me as an irreconcilable enemy, as a person
over whom he has too much power to fear, & he will
either shun me with utter indifference or see me
but to insult me ! In what a cruel extremity has the
77
MEMOIRS OF THE
Duke of Monmouth's advice landed me. Alas why-
had I not sufficient insight to discover that by endea-
vouring to pass me off as Emilie, he assured himself of a
rendezvous with her ; & that these two lovers, happy
at my expense, were profiting by the mauvais quart
d'heure that they prepared for us ! "
This last idea caused her more anger than all the
rest. She could not support the thought of having
been the catspaw of the adventure, & she no longer
cared for anything, save to make known to My Lord
Arran the adroit manner in which he had been beguiled.
" He is too tranquil," she said, " I will trouble his
repose, if not perhaps through feelings for which he
is indebted to me, it will at least be by jealousy,
that he will suffer, because of the Duke of Mon-
mouth."
Although the whole house was already asleep she
aroused one of her women. When a light had been
brought her she wrote these words :
To put it shortly my lord, you are served as you served me,
Emilie, your charming Emilie, is unfaithful to you ! At the
very time that you were looking for her in the gallery she was
with the Duke of Monmouth. Do you not deserve it ? You,
say I, you who made me realise by your treatment of me that
you were not worthy of any better treatment yourself. She
scorns the conquest of you as she herself is to be scorned,
and if she feigns to desire it it is only to enhance the value of
the offering that she has to make to your Rival !
Adieu Ingrate ! It is only fitting that you should pass a
night as unhappy as mine, & with this difference that I hope
that I shall soon pass more tranquil ones than you.
(Return this Letter.)
As soon as she had sealed it she ordered one of her
Valets de Chambre to go to My Lord Arran, to wake
him, and give him the note.
My lord was not wrapt in so tranquil a slumber
COURT OF ENGLAND
as the vindictive Miledy . . . had imagined. Re-
viewing all that had happened he had grown still more
doubtful of Emilie, an impression the note did much
to confirm. He was at first astonished that Miledy
. . . should write to him at so late an hour but his
astonishment deepened when he saw what the note
contained. He read it more than once ; he pondered
over it a long time, and he appeared so concerned that
the valet of Miledy (who had been instructed to observe
him) had reason to suppose that he had brought very
bad news.
This boy asked several times if he was to take his
Mistress an answer, ere my lord rousing himself
wrote the following words at the end of her letter:
You are very charitable, Madam to inform me of the
treachery that they are practising with regard to me. I
should never have expected that you would become my
confidante. Since you desire it I will also confide a secret
to you, by assuring you that if it is true that Emilie has gulled
me I shall find the means to punish her in so ruthless a manner
that you will be amply avenged, and perhaps you will find
in this proceeding reason to pardon me for that of which you
complain.
79
CHAPTER X
AFTER My Lord Arran had charged the
Valet de Chambre to take this Billet to
the lady, he abandoned himself to the
saddest of reflections. Sometimes he would
be inclined to doubt the accuracy of the intelligence ;
and the quarter from which it came might well be
suspected ; yet he ceased not to put faith in it, for
one is ever impelled to credit the very thing one
most fears. Even had the proof been less convincing
he must have continued to believe in it. He loved
Emilie truly ; he had been loved ; but all the
sweetness he had tasted in this intercourse served now
but to make him the more resent the bitterness of her
faithlessness. He was by nature very proud, for he
had worth, noble parentage, and, above all, that good
opinion that all the English have of themselves (and
for which there is certainly a reason), all these com-
bined to inspire him with the greatest vexation against
his Mistress. In another way it appeared that his
shameful conduct to Miledy . . . was the reason of
all his affliction. He reproached himself for having
ceased to love one of the most beautiful members
of the Court, who had been so kind to him, and
given him the preference of so many rivals of advan-
tageous distinction. In short after having believed
himself loved by two ladies and after great embar-
rassment as to which to choose, he now found himself
without either.
80
COURT OF ENGLAND
These reflections committed him to a thousand
varied conflicts which kept him awake the remainder
of the night. He fell asleep a little towards morning
but not to rest ; the troubled dreams which he
experienced being the natural result of the oppression
one experiences when one has been thus tormented.
It was already late when he heard one of his Valets
de Chambre disputing with some one. Rousing
himself he called out to know who it was. The Earl
of Saint Albans entered. 1
" I think my lord," said he, " that all your Servants
have received orders to make me impatient. For
more than an hour I have been trying to gain the door
of your Chamber, and to persuade them to open it to
me. I had just resolved to retire."
Asking pardon for his people's impertinence. My
Lord Arran prayed to be informed if there was any
service he could render.
Thus given permission My Lord Saint Albans
proceeded with his errand. " I bring you back,"
said he, " a letter that you will be surprised to see in
my hands." Thereupon he showed him the one
that Miledy . . . had written to him the night
before, with his own reply at the foot.
" What does this mean ? " exclaimed the younger
man. " Pray explain. The enigma is beyond my
penetration."
" I can tell you in two words," replied his friend.
" Four days since the King was informed that certain
people were plotting something contrary to his service,
1 Henry Jermyn, first Earl of St. Albans, date of. birth unknown,
creation 1660, d. 1684. The Misses Strickland, Lives of the Queens
of England, vol. v (1854), p. 272, state in a note that Jermyn was
twenty-six years older than Henrietta Maria, in \vhich case he would
have been born in 1583.
F 8l
MEMOIRS OF THE
therefore he endeavoured to discover it without
any clamour. The watch was doubled, and received
orders to stop, with no distinction of persons, all
those they met in the night.
" The Valet de Chambre of Miledy ... had only
gone a short way from your door when he was taken &
searched ; the entreaties that he made to get them to
return this letter, sealed and unsigned, caused them
to conclude immediately that it concerned affairs
of State. Without even listening to him they flung
him into prison.
" This morning the letter was brought before the
King. The Duke of Monmouth and I were in attend-
ance. His Majesty ordered me to open the packet
and to read aloud what it contained. Though not
surprised at your understanding with Miledy ... he
was exceedingly so at your change with regard to her,
& most of all at the passion of the Duke of Monmouth
for Emilie. However, he could not refrain from
laughing at the hazard which had caused the letter to
fall into his hands. Looking at My Lord of Monmouth
he observed, with an air, in which there was more of
gaiety than anger : c Pray how long is it that you have
been unfaithful to your wife, & don't you think it is
time you settled down ? *
" ' One takes light amusements, Sir,' said the Duke,
6 as a diversion from things more serious.'
" ' Then,' said the King, * of a certainty you have
many serious things in your head, for your heart is
ever looking for a distraction.'
" The Duke was so embarrassed and confused that
he outwardly betrayed his vexation. Approaching
me, he would have taken the letter from my hand,
had I not (apprehending that in his anger against
Miledy ... he might make a bad use of it), prayed
him to let me keep it that I might return it to her.
82
HENRY, EARL OF ST. ALBANS
From a print after Van Dyck in the possession of the Editor
COURT OF ENGLAND
" * She does not deserve the regard you have for
her,' replied he, speaking sufficiently loud for the King
to hear. ' Surely now you have a chance of avenging
yourself, you should not lose the happy opportunity ? '
" The King began to laugh. ' I am certain,' he
said, ' that My Lord Saint Albans hath already
pardoned Miledy ... for the preference she ac-
cords to My Lord Arran over himself, for he is indul-
gent to all ladies, nor would he ever wish to vex any
of them.'
" ' Your Majesty does me justice,' I said. ' It is
true that I have greatly loved this lady, and had she
wished she might have turned me round her little
ringer. I did not know how to hate her & My Lord
Arran is too intimately a friend of mine for me to
decline to oblige him on this occasion.'
" The Duke of Monmouth did not relish my senti-
ments. ' What exceptional generosity ! ' he observed.
' For my part, I who have also suffered from the
lady's venom, after having placed such confidence in
her, of which she has made so ill a use, I am going
forthwith to inform her that she is a most indiscreet
and malicious woman.'
" The King having left his Closet," continued
Lord Saint Albans, " I came at once to give you the
letter & tell you all that had passed, and I think the
Duke of Monmouth has gone to raise a hullabaloo 1
at that poor afflicted lady's."
" Here is a cruel situation ! " exclaimed My Lord
Arran. " With the anger that she already entertains
for me, I am certain she will accuse me. I am already
so overcome by Emilie's unworthy conduct that I do
not need to have my troubles increased. At the same
time you can hardly realise, my lord, how extremely
indebted I feel towards you for what you have done
1 Fair le Charivary ; 1707 translation, " he has gone to harangue."
83
MEMOIRS OFiTHE
!iSr$
for me in this transaction ; for you might well have
taken advantage of this opportunity to cause me
further humiliation. However, you have learned
enough from this Letter to convince you that I am
no longer your rival."
" It is a long time since I played any part in that
direction," said the other, " and I am in a position to
view what passes with a tranquil mind."
" Would to heaven," cried My Lord Arran, " would
to heaven that I could feel the same with regard to
Emilie ! "
Whilst they were holding this discourse the Valet
de Chambre of Miledy . . . lay in prison. He could
not think of any way to escape therefrom save to
inform his Mistress of what had overtaken him. She
had passed the time that intervened until she got
this news from him in a state of hideous anxiety ;
she knew of nothing to which to attribute the boy's
delay. She sent repeatedly to Lord Arran's for news
of him, but all her people could learn there was that
he had left immediately after my lord had written
the reply to her Letter.
She had not been able to rest a moment, a thousand
different disquietudes came to trouble her. At last
she received the Valet de Chambre's billet informing
her of what had happened to him and how the com-
munication had been taken from him. O Dieu !
how her pain and misery was increased ! To think
that her Letter was a prey to the curious ;
perhaps in the hands of her enemies ! for a pretty
woman never fails to have enemies.
She decided that the Duke of Monmouth was
injured, Emilie disgraced, and as for Lord Arran
his fate was even worse ! For herself, she could not
determine what would happen, and she was waiting
COURT OF ENGLAND
to see in which direction the storm would burst
when she was informed that the Duke of Monmouth
was asking for her. As it was only on the previous
evening he had parted from her with every evidence of
friendship appearing so genuinely sympathetic in the
humiliation she had undergone at the hands of Lord
Arran and the Mother of the Maids of her Highness,
there was nothing strange in his calling to enquire how
she had passed the night.
But her heart misgave her and she foreboded that
his visit meant something very much opposed to peace
and tranquillity.
CHAPTER XI
MILEDY made no order for the Duke's
admittance.
She was pondering deeply upon what
she should say to him should he know
anything about the letter. At last, overcome with
impatience he swiftly entered the room, and by the
first glance he cast at her she guessed what was passing
in his mind. He was commencing to speak when she
interrupted him.
" Good, your Highness," she said, " complete my
undoing. Come and reproach me for my weakness,
come & charge me with ill-doing ; I deserve all your
anger. I have no other weapon wherewith to
combat you save the sincere avowal of my fault."
" How impetuous you are," said he, " so to trifle
with the happiness of a Demoiselle of rank, who has
committed no other crime in regard to you than that
of pleasing Lord Arran. What can you possibly
expect from her friends ? ' :
" I expect the greatest misfortunes," replied Miledy
. . . " misfortunes which I shall endure without either
complaining or seeking to retaliate. Yet, if the fault
that I have made in revealing your secret can suffer
any mitigation, put yourself in my place. Consider a
woman consumed with rage and anger ; remember also
that one does not preserve one's judgment when one
hath lost all one loves, and that this was the only means
whereby I might be avenged on him. And if with all
86
COURT OF ENGLAND
this, my lord, you do not consider me sufficiently
unhappy to satisfy you, add the cruellest reproaches
that you can ' She appeared so affected as she
said this, & she looked so beautiful that the Duke
having an impulse to love her only curbed himself
with difficulty and could not make up his mind to
allow her any longer to continue in such distress.
" Your condition, Madam," he said, " amply
avenges me. I should be very sorry to cause you any
further annoyance ; but at least help me to repair the
trouble that has been caused."
" If there be still time," replied she, " there is
nothing that I will not do ; but satisfy my legitimate
curiosity and tell me in what manner you got to know
all about my letter."
The Duke of Monmouth was surprised. " Hath
not Saint Albans been here and related to you what
has passed ? " he demanded.
" O Dieu ! " cried she, " What is that you say ?
Is it possible that he has been informed of my
frailty ? "
The Duke informed her of what had taken place at
the King's and how My Lord Saint Albans had wished
to take the letter back to her.
She was inconceivably afflicted. She recalled all the
cruel treatment she had meted out to him, and she
could not think that he would neglect his revenge.
" Is it possible," said she, looking sadly at the Duke
of Monmouth; " that you have left my letter in his
hands ? Is it thus you prove yourself to be one of my
friends ? "
" Why Madam, should I prove myself one of your
friends ? I swear to you that had I been the master,
far from endeavouring to save you, I would have
sacrificed you and published it to the world."
" How delightful for Emilie ! " she laughed sar-
MEMOIRS OF THE
castically, and then prudently checked herself from
saying anything more.
" I could not help that," replied the Duke. " I
would have agreed to expose her if you had been ex-
posed with her ; for when I think of the manner in
which you betrayed me, in truth I cannot pardon
you."
" Do not let us speak of it any more, my lord,"
said she, offering him her hand, which he took and
kissed (with sentiments much opposed to those of an
irreconcilable enemy).
" I must try," she continued meekly, " to make
amends to you by doing you some good service."
" Alas, Madam," said he, gazing at her tenderly,
" you need not look far for an opportunity, it is easy to
find. I have loved you for a long time ; you have
always appeared to me one of the most amiable women
in the world, and if I have not obtruded my attach-
ment, it was because I understood that My Lord
Arran had made too great progress in your favours for
me to supplant him. But now that he is unfaithful
Why, abandon him to his bad taste ! And let us
swear a pact together."
Although Miledy . . . was not sufficiently severe
to be angry at a declaration that placed her in a
position to avenge herself on Emilie, still she did
not put much faith in an avowal dictated by
chance alone ; so turning into a pleasantry, what
the Duke desired her to take seriously, and with a
view to changing the subject, she asked him where
he thought Lord Saint Albans and her Letter could
be.
" He is no doubt with My Lord Arran," was the
reply, " for they have been for some time intimate
friends."
" I know the reason of that," she replied, " and if
COURT OF ENGLAND
we had not any other matter in hand I could inform
you why." l
The Duke made no comment on this and contented
himself by asking her to go to her Royal Highness's
and inform Emilie of what was passing.
" What an extraordinary commission ! " she ex-
claimed. " Do you wish me to tell her myself that I
wrote ? Think of her rage ? "
" I know of no other means of communicating with
her privately," he said. " And is there not a sort of
justice in it that after having done her all the evil
possible, you should now do her a little good ? "
" But," she objected, " how can she place any
confidence in anything that I say ? "
" I will write," said the Duke, " and then you can
talk it over together."
" After having last evening been the recipient of a
thousand blows from the goloshes of the duenna
what is to be my attitude towards her ? " demanded
the lady.
" Do not notice her at all," replied the Duke.
" Your rank is such that you are not obliged to observe
the ordinary civilities "
" Ha ! to show her any ! " interrupted Miledy
with such anger that her face changed colour. " I
do not think I need that advice and I think she is
very lucky that I let her down so lightly."
The Duke at these words burst out laughing.
She demanded to know for what reason he chose to
laugh at a thing which reduced her patience to a
minimum.
" To speak in good faith," replied he, " I cannot
think of the combat in which I found you engaged
1 All our authoress's oblique allusions have a reason. In the majority
of cases we have been able to explain them, but have been unsuccessful
in our endeavours to penetrate this particular innuendo.
MEMOIRS OF THE
last evening with those two oldsters, and your
embarrassment, without laughing ay, with all my
heart ! "
" Truly," said she, much annoyed, " the thing was
very amusing, and as a man who desires to persuade
me that he entertains certain sentiments for me you
are taking a very good line."
The Duke blushed at the reproof, excusing himself
by the singularity of the occurrence, and expressing
the wish that it had happened to anybody but herself.
Then entering into her Closet he wrote to Emilie in
these terms :
The feeling I entertain for you is not unduly Confident,
I write to you by a Lady whom you will suspect, but she has
given me her word to serve us, which she should do after the
cruel turn she has endeavoured to play us. You will learn from
her what has passed : I am inconsolable over it, and if you
increase my sorrow by some new unkindness you will be the
cruellest person in the world.
He implored Miledy ... to hasten to Saint
James's ; she consented and they separated very good
friends.
Miledy . . . was very anxious to pass by My Lord
Arran's house as she wished to see Lord Saint Albans
and as it so happened the first thing she observed
when she got to that street was his Carriage & his
People. She sent to tell him that she desired to speak
with him a moment & that he would find her in the
Mall. It was a long time since their last interview,
& he could not think what she wanted, for there was
no indication that she already knew the adventure of
the Letter. The King & the Duke of Monmouth were
the only ones who could have informed her. As for the
King, he was not my lord thought sufficiently
interested in the affair, while, as for his son, well, he
hated her too much to convey the news.
90
COURT OF ENGLAND
Sending out word to say that he would not fail to be
in the Mall he turned to Lord Arran remarking,
" Do you not realise that this move is intended solely
to arouse your jealousy ? ' :
" She is not sufficiently concerned about me to
take so much trouble," said he soberly. " My reading
of it is that she has some other scheme afoot."
" Of a truth," returned his friend, " she is nothing
to me, and if she were anxious to discard you, she must
have cast her eyes on some one of such attractions as to
throw yours quite in the shade. A poor old man
such as I, is good for nothing, not even to scare the
crows." 1
" I'll warrant," interrupted the other, " that at
this moment she is troubling about neither of us it
is that letter that occupies her. Doubtless the Duke
of Monmouth in the despondency he is probably in,
has been gossiping and has recounted the entire
history to some one who in turn has told her all
about it."
" If Emilie were not concerned," replied Lord
Saint Albans, " I could believe what you say, but he
will have wished to protect her."
" Ah how little you know him," exclaimed my
Lord Arran. " He will have given no thought to
anything save his fury, 2 and you will see that he
has done all the harm that he can do."
" Well, I shall soon be able to let you know for I am
now going to look for Miledy ... in the Park."
At that moment Miledy . . . was at her Highness's,
she had not seen the Duchess, contenting herself
with enquiring as to the state of her health ; after
which she passed into the reception room where the
Maids received their friends. The first person that
1 According to Strickland's Lives, see p. 81, he was over ninety !
3 A confirmation of the proverb " As waxy as a Welshman ! "
9*
MEMOIRS OF THE
she saw there was the sous-gouvernante, who made her
a profound reverence. She did not even look at her.
Proceeding a little further she beheld Emilie in
converse with the gouvernante. The latter, concluding
that Miledy . . . wished to speak to her, left Emilie
& came with a decently embarrassed air to receive her.
Miledy . . . did not deign to give her a glance, but
approaching Emilie, & taking her by the hand said she
wished to speak to her privately. The gouvernante
who was not wanting in pride, & who had already
sacrificed a great deal in making a civil advance to
Miledy . . . was much offended at this treatment ;
and as it was not for Miledy . . . that the blows
of her goloshes had been intended but for Emilie,
whom she had believed to be engaged in a nocturnal
assignation, it appeared to her that Miledy . . . was
wrong to be so displeased. In consequence she was
delighted to see that her responsibility gave her an
opportunity of immediately returning this rudeness.
Taking Emilie's other hand she addressed Miledy
... as follows :
" 'lete-a-tetes are not our custom here, Madam,"
said she. " You will have no conversation with
Emilie at which I am not present."
" Not speak to her ? I shall speak to her ! " replied
Miledy . . . arrogantly. " And you will certainly
not make a third."
" And I," replied the gouvernante^ " declare you
will not say one word to her unless I am by," & so
saying she pulled Emilie with all her strength.
Miledy . . . fearing Emilie might leave her,
tugged on her part with the greatest vehemence.
" You are so meanly bred," said she to the
gouvernante, " that I am astonished at your insolence,
& if you were not beneath my anger I "
The Duenna interrupted her with an equally
92
COURT OF ENGLAND
haughty response, and each of them dragged Emilie
with so much force that it seemed that they were
resolved to break her arms.
The noise that they made caused Filadelphe (who
was in the adjoining Closet), to come in and endeavour
to settle the brawl, but she was not a person of suffi-
cient consequence for those who were quarrelling
to pay the slightest heed to her entreaties.
My Lady Ossory, 1 who had called to see the Duchess,
passing near the Maids' Parlour thought some one was
being choked. Entering, what was her astonishment
to find Miledy . . . and the Mistress of the Maids
engaged in battle.
" Ha, Madam ! " cried Emilie, " come & make peace
between these ladies & rescue me from their hands, or
I do not know what will happen ! "
1 The Lady Amelia de Nassau, eldest daughter of Henry de Nassau,
Lord of Auverquerque (natural son of Prince Maurice of Nassau, third
son of William the Silent), married Thomas, the gallant Earl of Ossory
(July 8, 1 634- July 30, 1680), son of the first Duke of Ormonde, on
November 17, 1659. Lord Ossory was, of course, the elder brother of
" Monsieur le Comte d'Aran " ; he and his Countess are buried in the
Abbey. Lady Ossory's younger sister, Isabella von Beerwaet, was
the wife of Henry Benet, Earl of Arlington, and the sole issue of this
union m. 1672 the King's son, Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Graf ton. See
Note p. 22.
I
CHAPTER XII
combatants' fury received a check when
My Lady Ossory entered the room. But
it was a long time before she was able to
fathom the cause of their rage because
they both would talk at the same time. However
she had sufficient patience to let them work off the
first uncontrollable paroxysm of rage, & then listened
to them separately.
Being ignorant of the engagement of the previous
night, it being a Secret Article from her that a
Treaty of Peace would not be considered by either
of the militant ladies she first reproached Miledy . . .
for not having shown any courtesy to the gouvernante.
She next blamed the gouvernante for carrying her
circumspection to the point of preventing a person
of the quality of Miledy . . . from having a confi-
dential interview with one of her Highness's Maids,
and concluded by saying that Miledy . . . must be
permitted to speak with Emilie alone.
Upon this Emilie & Miledy . . . entered the closet
from which Filadelphe had come. She had been so
alarmed at the noise which had proceeded from the
Room that she had run in there without taking the pre-
caution to hide the Note that she had just commenced
to the Duke of Monmouth.
Emilie being the first to perceive it read these
words :
Cure yourself of the passion that you have for Emilie, she
94
COURT OF ENGLAND
is amiable but untrustworthy & it is not right that such as you
should be betrayed.
If you renounce her fetters and desire to embrace fresh ones,
a young person, whose attractions yield nothing to hers, offers
herself to you, & love will know how to make the chain easy.
But
" Could there ever be conduct more frightful than
Filadelphe's ? " cried Ernilie. " See Madam ! See
the pretty declaration she makes ! "
Miledy read the Billet with equal astonishment.
" On whom falls her choice ? " she asked.
" I am ignorant," replied Emilie, " but it has
always seemed to me that she was not what one would
call indifferent to My Lord Arran."
" And for my part," said the other, " I think
that she has especial consideration for the Duke of
Monmouth."
Without replying, Emilie took the Note, intending
to put it in her pocket.
Miledy . . . snatched it from her. " I cannot pos-
sibly permit," she said, " that you remain the mistress
of a note so prejudicial to Filadelphe. Being her
rival, vengeance will prompt you to take steps such as
you yourself would be the first to disapprove of at
any other time."
" It is not a question of equity," said Emilie. " You
have taken the note from me to keep yourself, because
you probably have reasons as strong as I have to hate
her. Still, Madam, I owe you too much respect to
contend with you "
" Mon Dieu ! how we trifle," cried Miledy . . .
interrupting her, " I am here to speak alone with you
about affairs that are of far greater concern to me. To
win your confidence I have here a billet by which you
will see that you can look upon me as your friend."
In saying the words she felt in her pocket where she
95
MEMOIRS OF THE
expected to find it, but it was not there ! She looked
all about her, but her search was fruitless.
" What will the Duke of Monmouth think ? " she
cried in affliction, " After all that has passed, he will
conclude I have betrayed him ! " She continued to
lament and Emilie lamented with her.
" At least, Madam," said she, " instruct me of what
remains for me to know."
" No," replied Miledy ..." without the Duke's
note, I have not the strength to speak, I am so upset."
At this moment Filadelphe entered, her manner betray-
ing that she had remembered her letter. At first, she
did not dare to ask for it for fear of being drawn into
some embarrassing explanation. She looked at one, she
looked at the other ; it seemed as if she would read
in their eyes what was passing in their hearts, but
they observed this and she could not get anything from
them.
Nevertheless it was impossible to separate without an
explanation.
" Let us understand each other," said Filadelphe,
at last. " You have my letter and I have just found
yours. I am anxious to return it, on the condition you
restore mine."
" The thing is not equal," said Emilie shortly. " You
are not spoken of in the billet you hold, I am spoken
of in the one we have, spoken of most disobligingly.
I should very much like to know your reason for it,
and whether you call it the act of a Comrade and a
Friend."
" I do," replied Filadelphe, " for when one loves or
desires love everything is permitted. Do not let us
quarrel over this. You have two Lovers & two is one
too many. If I have committed a theft I cannot see
that I am compelled to restoration."
Miledy . . . ravished at once more beholding the
96
COURT OF ENGLAND
note of the Duke, not wishing to cause any further
dispute between these lovely girls, returned Filadelphe
her letter.
" What Madam," cried Emilie, " I shall not know
to whom she wrote."
" No, you will not know," responded Filadelphe,
" but if you are ignorant of the name of the man,
you at least have some information as to who your
Rival is." Saying which she went out.
Emilie heaved a profound sigh. " Which ever way
I turn," said she, " I only find rivals. You, Madam,
are the most dangerous of them all."
" Do not reproach me," said Miledy . . . giving
her the Duke's note, "it is you who tender me a
thousand wrongs, robbing me of a heart without which
I cannot live. Surely you realise how cruel you
are ? ' : But Emilie was too impatient to see what
the Duke had written to pause to reply to these
reproaches.
Having read the note, she begged to be informed of
what had passed and Miledy . . . with great embarrass-
ment explained that she had written to My Lord Arran,
which displeased Emilie to such a degree, and that the
King & the Earl of Saint Albans should know every-
thing seemed to her so cruel, that even her undaunted
spirit was unable to face the situation with equanimity.
She wept bitterly, and although Miledy . . . be-
stowed a thousand caresses upon her, asking the while a
thousand pardons, nothing would pacify her.
" I cannot comprehend," she said, " what motive
could have influenced the Duke that he should desire
I should learn from your lips all the evil you have
done me any more than I know how he proposes to
remedy it."
" He was most anxious to persuade me to come
and speak to you in good faith," said Miledy . .
G 97
MEMOIRS OF THE
" Nothing would induce him to dispense me from
the service, because he said having done you all the
harm in my power the least I could do was to avow
it."
" I think," said Emilie, " that it is this avowal alone
that gives you pain ; the thing itself rather pleases
you ! >:
Miledy . . . was piqued at these words, & it certainly
seemed to her that after all the trouble she had taken,
and the additional annoyance of the encounter with
the gouvernante^ she deserved more gratitude than
Emilie displayed. Although this was not sufficient
reason for her to fly into a rage, her 'penchant influenced
her to such a degree that Emilie's remark sufficed to
bring to her lips the harshest home truths.
" Little ingrate I " she cried, " you poorly merit the
trouble I have taken to advise you upon your bad
behaviour, which will be your ruin, & my desire to
oppose the torrent, my desire to save you ! But I
know your destiny, and now I will assist it by publishing
your midnight meetings to the world, and I will
portray them in such lively colours that nothing will
be omitted from the picture."
" And I, Madam," replied Emilie, red with anger
and passion, " treat you according to your deserts.
If you can recount my weaknesses I can recount yours
of an earlier date and the history will be brought to
its conclusion ! "
The menace, & the way it was expressed, appeared
equally offensive to Miledy . . . She threw a furious
glance at Emilie, recalling the while all that the latter
had made her suffer since Lord Arran had first declared
his devotion. Near her hand was the inkhorn Fila-
delphe had used when writing to the Duke of Mon-
mouth. She seized it, threw it at Emilie's head, &
1 See Note p. 89.
COURT OF ENGLAND
then hurried out, avoiding by this precipitation, a
combat from which she could not have escaped without
giving and receiving many hard knocks.
Emilie, at first confounded, wept, though more in
rage than grief at being thus besmirched. She dared
not proceed into the next room fearing the ridicule
of the other Maids.
Then her thoughts changed abruptly to things of
greater import. Racking her brains how to find a
means to satisfy Lord Arran about her stolen interview
with the Duke she became so absorbed in the problem
as to forget all about the ink on her face.
As soon as My Lord Saint Albans had departed
My Lord Arran occupied himself with a thousand
projects, all aiming at revenge on a faithless Mistress
& a fortunate rival & when he went out to his Carriage
& drove to the Park he was still undetermined what
he should do.
Arrived there, the first person he beheld was
My Lord Saint Albans, he called to him but the
latter explained he was still awaiting Miledy . . .
and it would not be advantageous that they should
be together. My Lord Arran turned away.
Some friends accosted him, but he answered with
so much distraction that they passed on. To avoid
people he concealed himself in a little alley, from which
he could see the window of the Closet of the reception
room allotted to the Maids where he had often
spoken with Emilie. The sight renewed alike his love
& his anger, & this last feeling being still uppermost,
he decided nothing would induce him to have any
further dealings with a girl who always sacrificed
him to the Duke of Monmouth. What irritated
him beyond endurance was the fact that the slight
was known to the King.
99
COURT OF ENGLAND
Entering St. James's, he went straight to the apart-
ment of the Maids, where he only found Waiting-
Women. He asked where every one had gone to, &
was informed that Emilie was writing in the closet.
He entered swiftly.
Imagine his feelings on beholding her blacker than
any Mooress, & with tears filling her eyes !
He gazed at her in amazement, nor said one word.
She at once divined the cause of his silence, & being
possessed of much presence of mind & a venturesome
spirit, the circumstances appeared to her very
favourable.
" Who are the busybodies that have told you I am
about to die ? " she cried, " And have you come to
turn me from so wise an intention ? No, no, my lord,
I cannot survive the bad opinion my enemies have
given you of my behaviour. As you see I have begun
to disfigure this unhappy beauty which is the cause of
your distrust, I am resolved to complete what
remains to be done ! "
loo
H
CHAPTER XIII
AD a woman made such a threat in any
other Country save England it would have
been taken as representing a vexation that
would soon pass, but it must be remem-
bered that there is no place in the world where vio-
lent resolutions are so freely adopted and carried
out. The English are courageous, and have a certain
brutality for themselves which is almost barbaric &
which somewhat resembles the determination of the
early Romans.
My Lord Arran, persuaded, for this reason, that
Emilie was speaking the truth, was much concerned.
" Emilie," he sighed, gazing at her the while with
eyes in which appeared more of love than of hate. " It
is hardly likely after your conduct that your death will
justify your affection to me ; for if it were not true
that the Duke of Monmouth obtained an inter-
view (and through me) I should not be so wretched
as I now am, nor would your virtue be so cried
down ! "
" The only thing with which I have to reproach
myself," she said, " is that I allowed myself to care for
a Lover so ungrateful & suspicious, one who was always
thinking such wicked things of one as innocent as I am.
It is true I was in the Salon with the Duke of Mon-
mouth, but it is also true that I expected you to be
there ! He had found your Tablets, and had copied
your writing. But this imposture has only served to
101
MEMOIRS OF THE
let him know the better my faithfulness, constancy
to you ! He left me like one in despair. I was sure
you would ever be true to me when I told you this.
Alas ! far from being the recipient of your gratitude
I lose you altogether ! And with you goes all my
glory all my peace ! ' :
Her tears, and her sighs, here became so acute that
she could no longer speak, but she had already said
sufficient to convince my lord of her devotion.
Throwing himself at her feet, he took her hands,
bathing them with his own tears ; he implored her
pardon for having been deceived by appearances, &
finally he besought her to tell him what she had done
to render herself so black !
She told him she had broken a bottle of ink in her
face and this made him tremble, a man less pre-
occupied would have been surprised not to remark any
cuts, but a lover's eyes are blind.
He left Emilie with a great increase of love.
In the Park My Lord Saint Albans & Miledy . . .
were walking together & he found no difficulty in
hailing them. Having approached he drew my lord
aside.
" Share my joy, my lord," he said. " Emilie is true
to me. I am convinced she still loves me ; I have just
had an explanation from her whereby both her enemies
& mine are confounded. Of all the young ladies of
fashion she is the most virtuous, the most tender. I
adore her ! I am utterly devoted, I will never again
believe anything to her disadvantage," and saying
these words he left them without awaiting any com-
ment from my lord, or bestowing one glance on
Miledy . . . She had been close enough to hear all that
he said, for he had spoken fairly loudly, and, even had
his voice been lower, she was too vitally concerned in
what was passing not to give it all her attention. She
102
COURT OF ENGLAND
was so stricken that My Lord Saint Albans immediately
perceived by her pallor and the expression in her eyes,
all that was passing in her heart.
" What is your trouble, Madam ? " he asked with a
sigh. " That you love a man who loves you no more ? "
" Yes, that is the cause of my despair," she answered
sadly, " one only speaks of my weakness & the unworthy
part I play."
" If you had cared to have an understanding with
me," he said, " such cruel troubles would never have
fallen to your lot."
" My heart is wilful," she replied, " & will only
consult its own inclination. It would have been
impossible for me to pursue any other conduct. Pity
me only ... do not overwhelm me with useless
reproaches. . . ."
She was not in a state to say anything more.
She went home and ordered her people to admit no
one save the Duke of Monmouth, for she wished to
recount to him all that had passed. That My Lord
Saint Albans had returned her letter was some slight
solace to her pain.
The Duke of Monmouth came with the greatest
eagerness. She informed him of the different scenes
that had taken place. When she spoke of the horn full
of ink with which she had disfigured Emilie he was
greatly concerned ; " Such behaviour," he said
" appeared to him outrageous in respect of a Girl of
rank, whom she herself had greatly insulted in her
letter to My Lord Arran, & for whom he, the son of
the King, had the greatest tenderness." But when she
told him of the news My Lord Arran had brought in
the Park to My Lord Saint Albans his anger changed
its object, and he began to hate Emilie almost as much
as he loved her. He went through, over & over again,
all that Miledy . . . had told him & was delighted when
103
MEMOIRS OF THE
he could detect a slight discrepancy such as to make him
doubt, now and again, the truth of the story. He was
hoping she had invented it all, but she seemed very
consistent in her tale ; and, at last he made up his mind
to go and find My Lord Saint Albans to get more
enlightenment on what had passed between My Lord
Arran & himself.
Upon leaving Miledy ... he observed one of My
Lord Saint Albans' lackeys and asked him where his
master was.
" I left him, my lord," said he, " at Prince Rupert's."
The Duke told his Coachman to go there at once,
and the latter, whipping up his horses at a moment
when the street was congested with traffic, collided
with a milestone. The carriage was turned over, and
it was only by cleverly catching hold of the arm that
the Duke escaped serious injury as it was, the Coach-
man received several contusions.
Many gentlemen, who were passing at the moment,
sprang to the ground and hastened to weary him with
tedious compliments, such as were rather intended to
propitiate his Father than from any real concern for
him. He was detained some time by these attentions
before he could proceed to Prince Rupert's.
Arrived at last * he sent to pray My Lord Saint
Albans come out to him ; but a Gentleman of the
Prince came in his stead to entreat that he would
himself descend from his coach and the Duke had no
alternative but to comply ; much against the hair,
for his mind was so full of what Miledy . . . had just
related to him that a conversation on any other
subject did not appeal to him at all.
They conducted him to the little apartment where
1 Prince Rupert lived in Spring Gardens between St. James's Park and
Charing Cross from 1674 onward. (Cuningham's Handbook of London
1849, vol. ii, p. 768.)
J0 4
COURT OF ENGLAND
the Prince l never retired save with his most intimate
friends or to enjoy an agreeable repast.
At this time he was suffering from the effects of a
fall. My Lord Saint Albans was keeping him company
and a Sailor from Provene was addressing them.
The Duke of Monmouth, having saluted the
Prince, asked if there was any service he could render
him.
" I wish," replied he, " that you would join your
name to mine in a recommendation to Captain David 2
to receive this sailor on his yacht." The Sailor added
his entreaties, but the Duke having great difficulty in
following his jargon did not stop to enquire why Prince
Rupert made such a request, (being, as he was, in
a position to ask such a favour of the Captain himself,
with an entire certainty of being obliged), but sat
down & commenced a letter.
While he was writing the Sailor gave him a buif et on
the shoulder, & told him not to forget to mention that
he was a Provencal. A moment after, and he gave him
another buifet, stronger than the first, declaring that
he " knew his work ! "
The Duke was wondering at this extraordinary
insolence, when he was smitten for a third time with a
force that equalled the other occasions put together,
while his assailant requested him to add some other
thing in his Letter.
1 Rupert, Prince of Bavaria, third son of Frederick V., Elector Palatine
(a grandson of William the Silent), and Elizabeth, daughter of King
James I. of England, b. at Prague December 18, 1619, d. at Windsor
November 29, 1682. Encyclopedia Bntanmca.
2 There was no officer in the British Navy at that period of this name.
David is probably a mistake for William Davis, who commanded no less
than three Royal yachts between 1674 anc * J 688. ** e a ^ so saw muc ^
active service and rose to the rank of Vice-Admiral of the Red, but neither
the date of his birth or his death is known. Charnock Bibliografhia
Navalis.
105
MEMOIRS OF THE
At last, really angry, he sprang to his feet, staring
haughtily at the Sailor.
" If it were not for the respect that I owe to the
Prince," he cried, " I would teach thee who I am ! ?:
As he said these words the Provencal laughed heartily
in his very face and Prince Rupert did no less.
The Duke came to the conclusion that there must
be some mystery under all this that hitherto he had not
guessed. He stared intently at the Sailor, and then
he recognised the Duke of Buckingham !
They embraced tenderly, and, all occupied though
the Duke of Monmouth was with his own amorous
entanglements he could not help giving his entire
attention to this new metamorphosis, praying to be
informed what it might mean.
" I will tell you in three words," replied the Duke
of Buckingham. " My Lord Russell is acting in
concert with me and we arranged that the first who
received news of Lady Norwich should inform the
other. I had put my asses 1 all around her house that
they might if possible discover where she was. I
remained a little further off enveloped in my roque-
laure, & concealed at the bottom of a Hackney coach ;
My Lord Russell was not with me. The wife of his
Valet de Chambre is nursing Lady Norwich's son ; it
was by the agency of this nurse that she wrote to him
the first time asking him to aid her when they were
taking her into Pembrokeshire. It being impossible
for them to proceed to Holland whither her husband
is endeavouring to take her without some of her
clothes, he sent Esther to fetch all that she would
require, two of his People accompanying her with
orders not to leave her. She was then to proceed with
the things to some rambling house where he hath taken
his wife. When Esther arrived to pack her Mistress's
1 Orisons*
1 06
COURT OF ENGLAND
wardrobe she easily found the means to summon the
Nurse, in order, as she explained, to help her to finish
more quickly, and profiting by a moment when they
were alone she said to her : ' Go immediately and
inform My Lord Russell that this is not a time to be
angry with her ladyship, & that he must put everything
in train to prevent her going to Holland, where it is
my lord's intention to take her it being his resolve to
embark on the yacht which the King is sending to the
Hague to bring over the Prince of Neuburg.'
" Esther then returned to her Mistress, and the
Nurse, like a clever woman, did her commission. My
lord came & found me & we passed part of the night in
consultation as to what we had best do. When we
reflected on the rank of the husband & the reputation
of the lady we knew that we must take the utmost
precaution far greater than those we had previously
adopted ; this prevented us deciding on anything
violent. I have come this morning to relate my
suffering to Prince Rupert. He knows that I have an
exceptional gift for disguising myself, & he has advised
me "
" It is true," said the Prince, interrupting him,
" that you have a peculiar talent for these kinds of
masquerades, I cannot resist telling our young
friend what happened to you during the troubles
with Ireton's wife, because it is in my opinion intensely
amusing, but as I am not just the thing Lord Saint
Albans must recount it. He knows the adventure even
better than I do, & this makes me the readier to cede
the task of narrating it to him."
My Lord Saint Albans then took up the discourse.
107
CHAPTER XIV
" "W~ N the days when everything was in frightful
disorder and the servants of the King l were
persecuted on all sides, the Duke of Buckingham
JL took arms & My Lord Holland 2 & My Lord
Peterborough 3 having joined him they put themselves
at the head of 500 Horse, their courage seconding
their zeal, and they hoped to strike an advantageous
blow for the King. Near Kingston, Major Gibblons
(sic) gave them battle & the Duke's elder (sic) 4 brother
lost his life. He was in the flower of his age, & Nature
had to all appearance endeavoured to make him per-
fect both in mind and body. 5
1 Charles I.
2 Henry Rich, Earl of Holland, b. 1590, d.v.p. March 9, 1649, creation
of Earldom September 15, 1624.
3 Henry Mordant, second Earl of Peterborough, b. 1624, d. June 19,
1697.
4 Lord Francis Villiers, posthumous son of the first Duke of
Buckingham, b. April 2, 1629, d.v.p. July 7 (O.S.), 1648, and is buried
in the Abbey.
5 Enamoured as the Duke of Buckingham might be of the pleasures
of Paris he abandoned them with alacrity at the first opportunity
which enabled him to prove his devotion to the Royal cause in England.
This was in the year 1648, when the fortunes of the Cavaliers might well
appear desperate. Nevertheless, this was the moment chosen by the
Duke and Lord Francis to join the forlorn attempt of Lord Holland
at Reigate. Misfortune attended them from the very outset. Goring,
who should have seconded the rising, was blockaded at Colchester, and
one troop of horse under Colonel Gibbons proved sufficient, as the
Parliament had anticipated, to disperse the conspirators. At Nonesuch
the Roundheads overtook their ill-matched antagonists. The skirmish
108
GEORGE, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, AS A YOUNG MAN
From a print after I' an Dj ck
COURT OF ENGLAND
" Either because his death disheartened his party or
because they considered his loss prejudicial ; they
made an orderly retreat to Kingston. This they
evacuated the next day, and got as far as Saint Nez
(St. Neots) when the enemy joined them for the second
time. The combat was fierce & sanguinary and the
Duke of Buckingham surpassed himself, displaying,
despite his extreme youth, the conduct & the valour
of the bravest & most experienced of captains. For-
tune had, for some time, declared herself against the
justice of our cause ; it was sufficient to be on the
right side to be oppressed by those on the wrong.
Thus the Duke of Buckingham, being at the end of his
resources retired to Lincoln with only sixty Horse ;
My Lord Peterborough fled to the Low countries, &
My Lord Holland was taken prisoner with a great
number of officers & persons of quality. Many yet
remained in the field & it was resolved to treat them
with kindness so as to persuade them to abandon their
allegiance, or, at least, to refrain from bearing arms
took place in the old royal burgh of Kingston and the outskirts of
Surbiton Common. It was short and sharp. " My Lord Francis, at
the head of his troop, having his horse slain under him, got to an oak tree
in the highway about two miles from Kingston, where he stood with his
back against it scorning to ask for quarter, & they barbarously refusing
to give it ; till, with nine wounds in his beautiful face and body he was
slain. The oak tree is his monument, and has the first two letters of
his name F.V. cut on it to this very day." (Brian Fairfax, published
1758.) Thus, in his twentieth year, died Lord Francis Villiers, making a
willing offering of his life for the King. . . . That the gallant boy
had not plunged into danger imperfectly realised is proved by the fact
that he had scrupulously set his affairs in order before embarking on the
ill-fated expedition. . . . Young as he was he had conceived a violent
passion for the beautiful Mrs. Kirke ; and after his death a lock of her
hair sewed in a ribbon was found next to his heart. (Ludlow
Memoirs, I.) The Lady Burghclere's Life of Buckingham, pp. 23-24.
The Mrs. Kirke referred to above was Diana maid of honour to
Henrietta Maria and elder half-sister of " Emilie." She married
de Vere, twentieth and last Earl of Oxford. See Appendix C.
109
MEMOIRS OF THE
against those that called themselves the State. My
Lord Holland, after having been taken to Warwick
Castle, was subsequently conducted to his own house ;
& the High Chamber proposed to the Commons that
they should pardon the Duke of Buckingham on
account of his youth, if, within fifteen days he sur-
rendered & acknowledged his fault.
" This condition was not acceptable to a man who
had nothing but hatred & aversion for those who
professed to be his friends, so he refused the grace that
was offered him, 1 for his one desire was to serve the
King.*
" Realising that if he attempted to fight the country
he would without doubt meet with a power stronger
than his own, & perhaps be taken prisoner, taking
danger for danger, he decided on the course whereby
he might best advance the interests of the King. And
to trick the creatures and at the same time mark his
1 After the disastrous fight at Kingston, the Duke, with Lord Holland
and the shattered remnant of the Cavalier force made their escape to
St. Neots. " Colonel Scroope, with seven troops followed them, and
entered the town on Monday morning about four of the clock, and took
Holland in his chamber and about eighty prisoners." (Historical MSS.
Lord Montague of Beaulieu.)
Fortunately for Buckingham, though he had been equally remiss in
placing scouts, his lodging was more capable of defence. The gates of
the house and the courtyard were closed and this gave him time to muster
his servants and get to horse. The barriers were then flung aside and the
intrepid little band led by their young master charged straight at the
troopers. They had a desperate fight, the Duke killing the Roundhead
commander with his own hand ; but they cut their way through.
That Buckingham had reason to congratulate himself on his escape,
was shown by the tragic fate of his fellow conspirator Lord Holland.
Yet George Villiers must have commanded considerable influence at
Westminster ; for in spite of the provocation he had given to the
Parliament, they once more offered, on his submission within forty days,
liberal terms of compensation. The Lady Burghclere's Life of Buck-
ingham, pp. 25-26 (condensed).
2 His patron and second father, King Charles I.
1 10
COURT OF ENGLAND
own intrepidity he shut himself up in London in the
very midst of all those who sought him.
" It was not his wish (as it might have been another's)
to stay hidden in a garret or some secret chamber. He
lived in the open adopting a variety of disguises in
which his keenest enemies failed to detect him. Thus
he donned the costume of a Merry Andrew with a little
hat trimmed with a fox's brush and many cocks'
feathers. Sometimes his face was covered by a mask ;
at others with flour, or blackened, whichever he
deemed the most suitable. He established a theatre
in the square at Cherincras (Charing Cross), & himself
took the leadership of a company of musicians and
buffoons. Every day he composed songs on such of
the events of the moment as he could remember ; he
sang before an audience of three thousand persons ; he
sold antidotes for poisons & plaisters & in this great
City surrounded by enemies he lived in complete
security, whilst the rest of us had to fly & hide our-
selves in holes.
" It happened that his sister the Duchess of Rich-
mond 1 was carefully guarded at Whitehall whilst her
1 Mary, eldest surviving child of George Villiers, first Duke of Buck-
ingham (1592-1628), and his wife Lady Catherine Manners, baptized
March 30, 1622, was married three times. On Christmas Day, 1634,
she was solemnly espoused to Lord Herbert heir of the fourth Earl of
Pembroke, but the bridegroom died soon after. In 1636 the maiden
widow was married to James fourth Duke of Lenox and Richmond
(1612-55), cousin to the King ; of this marriage but one child, a daughter,
survived to maturity. She married the Earl of Arran who is such a
prominent figure in these pages and died without issue 1 668. The
Duke of Richmond was succeeded by his young son who, dying in 1660
at the age of eleven years, was succeeded in turn by his cousin, afterwards
the husband of La Belle Stewart. The widow of the fourth duke chose
for her third husband it was supposed to be her first marriage of
inclination " Northern Tom Howard," b. ?, d. 1678, brother of the
Earl of Carlisle. The marriage took place in 1664, the pair making
" the fondest couple that could be." She died in 1685.
Ill
MEMOIRS OF THE
husband was a prisoner at Windsor, and she had made
so many applications to be confined with him that
Cromwell had consented. The Duke of Buckingham
learned the day she was to be moved, and as it was
necessary that he should communicate with her for
the service of their common interest, he pitched his
little stage on the road she would have to take ; and as
she passed he cried out to the populace that he must
have a little fun at the expense of the Duchess of
Richmond & her Family. They must therefore stop
her Carriage, so that he could sing her a song he had
composed about her and about that knave the Duke of
Buckingham. The Duchess was stopped, for since it
was only a question of adding to her pain and humilia-
tion, her guards permitted it, & the mob compelled
this lady, then the most beautiful person in England,
to come to the door and listen to this wicked jester
who sang her a thousand impudences. 1
" When his buffooneries were finished he said it was
only just he should give to the Duchess those songs of
which she was the subject, and promptly descended,
weighed down with broadsheets and caricatures. In'
approaching her he lifted the piece of black silk which
covered one of his eyes, & his sister recognised him.
" She had sufficient command not to betray any-
thing, she even reprimanded him ; but she took care to
retain the songs he had thrown at her, amongst which
he had slipped in a large packet of letters which he had
reserved for such an opportunity. After this she
continued on her way, the Duke-Juggler at the head
of the people who accompanied her with great hooting
for some distance.
1 This adventure is quoted at length in the chapter on Buckingham
in the Wits and Beaux of Society, by Grace and Philip Wharton,
1861. The plate illustrating the stopping of the coach (facing p. 15)
is full of life and probability, the portrait of the Duchess apparently
being taken from the print here reproduced.
112
ElSABETHA. vlXIEK* JDVCJWMfA K XJBKOX IT MCK
MARY, DUCHESS OF RICHMOND AND T.ENOX
From an eugraznng by Hollar after Van Dyck
COURT OF ENGLAND
" Notwithstanding his disguise he had such a
beautiful figure & he danced with such good grace that
Cromwell's daughter, the Wife of Ireton, 1 one of the
King's most irreconcilable enemies, seeing from her
windows the Theatre in which he exhibited himself,
was smitten in his favour & sent to him to come to her.
He hesitated at first whether to deliver himself into
the hands of his enemies, for he realised what he would
risk, & how difficult it was to guarantee that he should
not be recognised. However, his courage but ill
accommodated itself to timid reflections, & when he
bethought him that he could make this woman love
him, & that then she would tell him all her husband's
secrets who shared all those of Cromwell, he re-
proached himself for a prudence he deemed unworthy.
" He went to see her that evening, he left his
Trevelin costume behind him and wore a magnificent
dress which he concealed with his mantle & it was with
great reluctance he left the piece of plaster over his
eye.
" Had he exhibited two beautiful eyes he could not
have been better received. She showed him so much
tenderness, that he came to the conclusion he could
tell her his name itself without any risk ; nevertheless
his repugnance for her on account of her Father was so
great that he could hardly endure her, & received her
caresses with a coldness and disdain such as to reduce
her to despair.
u At last, one day, after being much pressed to
explain the reason, he told her confidingly that he was
a Jew, and that his Faith forbade him to love a
Christian. She was much surprised that a man who
made a profession of deceiving all the world in his
1 Bridget Cromwell, third daughter of the Usurper, baptized August 4,
1624, m. Henry Ireton (1611-51), June 15, 1646, d. 1662. The cream
of the jest lies in the reputation for prudery this lady enjoyed.
H 113
MEMOIRS OF THE
Theatre, should still be inwardly so exact. Not
finding herself sufficiently experienced to destroy by
plausible arguments the objections he advanced she
sent for a famous Rabbi, and gave him a considerable
sum of money. The Duke having come the next
evening to her house, was much surprised when this
man entered, & gravely offered to free him from all his
scruples !
" The Duke did not know his Talmud well enough
to embark in a dispute with the Rabbi, he therefore
begged two days' grace, &, as he feared to be discovered
in the end, he left London after having done every-
thing he could for the King's interest and proceeded
to rejoin him (sic) at the Dunes. 1
" But before he left, wishing Ireton's wife to know
what Tribe this Jew she so dearly loved belonged to, he
wrote in the chaste and pleasing style which you know
he would, and told her all, I may leave you to guess
if she was surprised, & if she did not accuse her heart
more than once for having betrayed the interests of
her family."
My Lord Saint Albans was silent at this point, &
when Prince Rupert had recalled some particulars that
he had omitted the Duke of Monmouth thanked them
both for the entertainment they had afforded him.
" Although my lord has much adorned the tale,"
said My Lord of Buckingham, " & given a happy turn
to an event that was originally but a bagatelle,
1 He rejoined the Prince of Wales from whom he had parted in
Paris about ten weeks before in the Downs. The Prince of Wales
left Hellevoetsluis in the middle of July 1648 in command of a fleet
that had revolted from the Roundheads. He cruised about causing
considerable annoyance, and even entered the mouth of the Thames ;
but, being taken ill, the little squadron, contrary to his desires, returned
to the Low Countries at the end of Spetember He was succeeded by
Prince Rupert. Presumably the Duke of Buckingham met with the
Prince of Wales in the early part of August.
114
COURT OF ENGLAND
although too he has unduly praised me, and his
praises always cause me much pride and pleasure, I
avow to you that I have never in my life listened to
anything with so much impatience. When I think
how it hath delayed my departure I am nearly frantic.
I am resolved," he continued, turning to the Duke of
Monmouth, " to go, attired as you see me, on board
the yacht which is sailing for Holland. I shall embark
as a sailor and shall hope to make myself known to
Lady Norwich when she and I will come to an under-
standing as to the best means whereby she can be
rescued from the hands of her husband. He will not
suspect me and perhaps I shall find some favourable
occasion ere our arrival at Brille, &, if I do not have
the pleasure of even seeing her during the voyage I
shall prefer it to the sadness of being here without
her."
" I have never seen a man more in love than you,"
said My Lord Saint Albans, " & you are very un-
grateful not to mention that it is I who furnished you
with this fine sailor suit in which you have performed
so many exploits of gallantry."
" It is true," said the Duke, " & were I in less of a
hurry I should have much pleasure in acknowledging
all that I owe you, but unless I now proceed on my
way I shall die before your eyes ! ''
Prince Rupert commenced to laugh. " Were you
eighteen," said he, " we might excuse you, but at our
age it is as well to have a little moderation."
" You may say what you like your Highness,"
replied the Duke. " For my part, my maxim is, it is
easier to prevent oneself from loving than to lay down
rules when one has succumbed. For Love, always a
child, hates those sage reflections upon which you
would maliciously embark me."
CHAPTER XV
p ^HE Duke of Mon mouth, who had not joined
in this last conversation, adroitly drew My
Lord Saint Albans aside into the apartment
known, both on account of the various
paintings that ornamented it, and the delightful fetes
the Prince would give there in honour of his Mistresses 1
as the Salon of the Pleasures.
To-day the Duke of Monmouth was entirely
absorbed by his troubles, whilst My Lord Saint Albans
with much candour and little tact, recounted all
that Lord Arran had confided to him in regard to
Emilie.
The Duke could no longer flatter himself with the
thought that her heart was wholly his. " Ah," he
said, " the last is the favourite with her, and a man
who promises himself constancy is easily fooled."
He ran down the sex in general, and Emilie in
particular, invoking a thousand imprecations on her
head. Whilst he was speaking in this manner, My
Lord Saint Albans entertained himself with the whist-
ling of a canary.
The Duke stared at him for a while in silence.
" Yes," he cried suddenly, " I should like to kill you !
To kill you, to kill that canary, to kill the whole world
at once, when it is possible that a man as polite as
you, even if you were not my friend (which it is diffi-
cult to imagine), when it is possible," he reiterated,
1 The favourite being Mrs. Hughes the well-known actress.
116
COURT OF ENGLAND
" that such as you have not sufficient civility to join
in my unhappiness and resentment ! "
" I have no tears in reserve," replied the other
smiling, " having shed too many over my own mis-
fortunes. Love has cost me so much that all your
pains together cannot in the least approach what I
have suffered."
" Ha ! " cried the Duke, " how ungrateful you are
to complain, considering how your evils have been
softened by the good that one cannot buy. I know
sufficient of the History of the last Court to be aware
of your antecedents, nor do I deny that you well
merited your good fortune, that you are kind to me
because " *
At these words, Lord Saint Albans laughed so loudly
that Prince Rupert and the Duke of Buckingham
hearing it, called to them to come back. The Duke of
Monmouth prayed My Lord Saint Albans to make his
excuses to the Prince, should he return without saying
anything, because in the state in which he then was he
felt incapable of anything except going to strangle
Emilie.
" It is to be hoped," returned his companion, " that
you will not become the annihilator of the human
race. Only a moment ago it was the canary you wished
to kill ; he had difficulty in saving himself from your
fury "
" Adieu," said the Duke, " you speak at your ease
now, but take care that I do not have my turn "
saying which he went out. As he hurried down the
stairs he met the King coming up them, and was
obliged to attend his Majesty to the top.
Learning that the King had come, the Duke of
1 Here is a striking illustration of the change of the standards of
" good form " during the last 250 years. Monmouth's oblique allusion
is to the supposed liaison of his own grandmother with St. Albans !
117
MEMOIRS OF THE
Buckingham's one idea was to avoid him, Prince
Rupert, however, being anxious that the King should
see him metamorphosed into a sailor, maliciously
suggested that he should pass through his Closet and
go down by the secret staircase, knowing all the while
that none such existed.
Barely had his victim disappeared when the King
entered, laughingly dismissing all those surrounding
him, save the Duke of Monmouth.
" I have come," he said to Prince Rupert, " to relate
something very funny to you. You know that since
the last conspiracy, of which I was warned, I had the
Cinque Ports closed and gave orders that no one
should embark without a signed permission from my
hand ? And you also know that a yacht is ready to
fetch the Prince of Neuburg ? Well, My Lord of
Norwich in company with his wife, who appeared
much afflicted, arrived on board her, and he proposed
to the Captain to take them over. The latter demur-
ring, my lord promised him a large sum of money,
which offer increased the Captain's suspicions to such
a degree, that not being satisfied with refusing them
passage, he caused them both to be arrested ! Of this
I have had notice, and I leave you to imagine how that
poor jaloux is passing his time ! "
The Prince asked the King what he had decided
to do.
" I have decided," replied he, " to let them go
wherever Lord Norwich wishes. His wife is, in my
eyes, beautiful, but in my understanding, ungrateful.
I do not see why I should mix myself up in her affairs."
The Duke of Buckingham heard all this and, utterly
unable to master his passion he burst out of the Closet,
and flung himself at the King's feet. His Majesty
stared without recognition, " What do you want, my
friend ? " he demanded.
118
COURT OF ENGLAND
The Duke who was accustomed to speak to the King
on equal terms, forgot all about his disguise.
" What do I want ? Surely you can imagine it,
knowing as you do my passion for thrs lady ! I want
you to give her back to me "
" To thee ! " said the King, laughing, " to tbee my
friend ? "
" To me," urged the Duke, " I will resign all my
Honours and all your benefices, if you will but accord
me this one thing "
" This man is out of his mind ! " exclaimed the
King. " He will restore me his Offices and my
favours ! >:
Prince Rupert, the Duke of Monmouth, and My
Lord Saint Albans laughed with all their hearts, nor
could the Duke of Buckingham refrain from joining
them, when he suddenly recollected his Sailor's dress
remembering at the same time that the King did not
recognise him.
Then the Prince explained the enigma to his
Majesty, who was much diverted.
" Here," he said, " is a trick that could hardly be par-
doned in an adolescent ; for you it is almost impossible.
Still, I will send for Lord Norwich saying I wish to
confer with him, and I will speak briefly on the subject
of his wife, with a view to persuading him to treat her
better, because, she is no worse than the other Ladies
of the Court."
" But, Sir," said the Duke of Buckingham, " will
you continue to be my rival ? Because I would
rather my lord went to Holland than have you in the
field."
" Up till now I do not see that there is any reason
for you to have much anxiety on that score," said the
King. " Do I not know something of the ill luck I
myself must lay at your door ? However, let our first
119
MEMOIRS OF THE
endeavour be to get the Lady back ; we can arrange
our rights to her after."
He commanded My Lord Saint Albans to write
immediately on his behalf to My Lord Norwich.
That very evening the latter arrived at Whitehall.
The King spoke to him very kindly & gave him such
useful counsel both for his own repose and wife's
reputation, that anyone save himself would have
unhesitatingly acquiesced.
The Duke of Monmouth was too full of his anger
and his jealousy to continue any longer at Prince
Rupert's, and he returned to Miledy . . . She guessed
immediately from his manner that My Lord Saint
Albans had confirmed what the Duke's one desire was
to doubt.
" Another time," said she, " you will perhaps
believe me, my lord, nor conclude that I expressly
manufacture tales concerning Emilie to cure you of
your affection for her ! You must be infatuated to
bear her coquetries with so much patience."
" Good God, Madam," he cried, " do not insult me
in my trouble. Knowing all I have to bear it seems
you are still endeavouring to cause me fresh annoy-
ance."
" You entirely misjudge me," she said, " but you
are less to be pitied than you think ; a very charming
person loves you in a manner that should entirely
console you for the loss of Emilie."
The Duke had the fault of the majority of his con-
temporaries, he could not neglect the smallest
occasion of gallantry ; he had ever a passion reigning
in his heart, and he regarded each new opportunity as
a windfall not to be refused. On this occasion he
concluded that Miledy . . . was making a personal
insinuation ; that, piqued with My Lord Arran she
wished to allay her resentment through himself. He
120
COURT OF ENGLAND
thought that it was but proper that she should thus
seek consolation for the troubles that her Lover had
brought upon her.
The idea aroused all his vivacity.
" / am loved, Madam ! " he exclaimed, " and the
one who loves me is to be desired ! Although it is
fortunate for me, I do not think she is very wise in
choosing such a dangerous Confidante as yourself."
" It was Chance and not preference which made me
guess the inclination," said Miledy ..." and as your
imagination has so little to go on in its endeavour to
identify her, I will tell you, that it is Emilie's Com-
panion, Filadelphe, whom you are always rallying
about her languor."
The Duke was much surprised to hear this name,
though the information had nothing but what was
agreeable. Filadelphe, who was young and beautiful,
and whose manners were not nearly so flighty as
Emilie's, pleased him infinitely ; and as she had always
shown the greatest indifference to every one his vanity
was much flattered.
He listened eagerly to all Miledy . . . could tell him,
particularly the adventure of the billet. Perhaps if it
had not been for the anger he felt against Emilie he
would not have been so delighted at being loved by
Filadelphe, though he never was one to pause and
weigh his sentiments where a new passion was con-
cerned, and welcomed all eagerly. This was par-
ticularly the case at the moment, when the wish to
remove a very disagreeable memory was uppermost in
his thoughts. He thanked Miledy . . . with effusion
for what she had told him, and, that very evening,
he proceeded to St. James's.
He found that the Duchess was better. As he was
about to enter the ante-room Emilie happened to pass
by. She stopped dead as a person does who expects to
121
MEMOIRS OF THE
be spoken to, but the Duke distantly raised his hat and
passed on, hardly vouchsafing her a glance. Within
this apartment he found Filadelphe, whom he at once
addressed with that delightful courtesy of his. Out-
side Emilie remained staring, for the Duke's manner
seemed to her a very meagre return for all that she was
called upon to endure through Miledy . . . destroying
her reputation, and also from the other effect of her
rage, the throwing the horn of ink.
Emilie did not reproach herself with anything she
had said to My Lord Arran, for she had an under-
standing with the Duke that his rival was at any cost
to be bamboozled. Her reflections made the Duke
appear so blameworthy that she reproached herself a
thousand times for her weakness with regard to him,
and not being able to nerve herself to return to a place
where she would but receive fresh chagrin (for she
feared her annoyance would be visible in her face), she
chose rather to retire to her chamber, there to give
free course to her tears.
In the meanwhile Filadelphe, much ashamed of what
had passed with regard to Miledy . . . and Emilie
finding her Note, now dreaded (and the next minute
hoped) that Miledy . . . had guessed for whom it was
intended, and had told him. She was uncertain and
dreamy, her timidity brought an attractive flush to
her face. She cast down her eyes, and replied in such
a confused manner, to the most ordinary things that
he became embarrassed in turn. He guessed what
was passing in her heart, and, judging the moment
favourable was about to profit by it, and tell her of the
advantage that she had obtained in his mind over
Emilie, when some Ladies came in. She hastened to
join them in order to recover the composure that the
Duke's attentions had so shaken. However, though
she re-entered her Highness's chamber the Duke
122
COURT OF ENGLAND
followed. He looked at her tenderly, nor could she
prevent herself from returning his glances, even
though she feared all the world would discover a secret
she had long hidden with so much care. In a sudden
access of dread that this last would happen she resolved
to retire altogether. The Duke, who had been
watching her narrowly, readily divined the flutter she
was in, & resolved to seek an early opportunity of
taking full advantage of it.
123
CHAPTER XVI
SO after continuing a little time in her High-
ness's apartments, he went straight to the
private parlour of the Maids, for though
men rarely had the entree, his distinction
was such, that he was not subjected to the ordinary
Rules. On entering he was much surprised to find,
not Filadelphe, but Emilie. Her eyes were red with
much weeping. Upon perceiving him she rose up,
and without deigning to speak entered the adjacent
Closet, of which she would have shut the door had he
not prevented it. He considered himself insulted by
such airs, and at her regarding as a slight, a behaviour
that was merely the expression of his courtesy.
" Do you think, Emilie," said he, " that I have
not already enough to complain of in your conduct ?
Do you wish to increase my annoyance by fostering
some foolish idea that you "
" There was a time," she cried, " when your re-
proaches would have filled me with amazement but
that time is past, for I am now fully aware of your
callous ingratitude. I only wish that you had reasonable
cause for complaint against me ; but all along I have
only been too single-purposed in regard to you. I have
sacrificed My Lord of Arran ; I have suffered without
a murmur your indiscretion in sharing my secret with
Miledy . . . who has insulted me, as though my birth
were inferior to hers (and what made her take such a
liberty was the advantage your imprudence gave her
124
COURT OF ENGLAND
over me). Smarting under such an affront, I had at
least flattered myself you would offer me all the con-
solation in your power. It was my desire to tell you
of what I have endured ; to make you realise it, and
then I saw you look at me with an air of haughty
arrrogance ! Now you have followed me here to mock
my weakness for you and my just displeasure."
The Duke could not but see through such re-
proaches and such tears how genuinely moved she was ;
he really loved her, for Filadelphe had not been long
enough mistress of his heart to drive out a Rival.
" Please Heaven, Emilie," he said, his manner
having suddenly become gentler and tenderer,
" Please Heaven, that you have not given your favours
save to me alone. But Arran shows more assurance
than I care for. I fear you love us in turn. I was
happy last night, he was so this morning, and "
" Do not finish a discourse so offensive, ingrate"
she said, " unless you would throw me into the utmost
anger. What ! have you already forgotten that it
was through your counsel that I hoodwinked my lord,
and that I have even offered to break with him but
that the stir this rupture would make so alarmed you
on account of the Duchess of Monmouth that you
implored me to do everything to keep from her your
feelings for me. Such being the case you ought to
show me every consideration. But do not let us dispute
any more," she continued wearily, letting herself
drop into the chair from which at his entrance she had
hastily risen, " do not let us talk of our life, I am quite
content you should assume I have betrayed you, I
hate you so much that I want you to believe all that
can irritate you against me, I prefer unhappiness, &
your aversion, to your tenderness I prefer unhappi-
ness to pleasing you ! "
The vehemence with which she uttered these com-
MEMOIRS OF THE
plaints and reproaches, her eyes sparkling with anger,
her face aflame with brilliant colour, all these things
together with her youth and her beauty all pleaded
for her to the Duke. In a sudden access of love he
flung himself at her feet. What did he not say in his
endeavour to calm her ? She refused to listen to him,
and this refusal so spurred his passion that he would,
he said, die before her eyes if he could not obtain her
forgiveness.
Just at this moment Filadelphe, returning from the
apartment of the Princess Mary, entered. She was
secretly hugging to herself the tender glances the
Duke had bestowed on her, thinking she must have won
the heart she so earnestly desired to possess. She was
also reproaching herself with having so quickly left
him in the Duchess's apartment.
Alas ! What were her feelings when she saw him
at her Rival's knees ? Love, jealousy, or pride has
never given such pain. In one instant she passed
from the Meridian of joy to the uttermost depths of
despair. She stood there, pale and amazed. In her
silence and immobility she might have been taken for
a statue if her eyes, (which preserved their natural
use) had not revealed by their movement, now rapid,
now languorous, the different passions agitating her
soul. At last, overwhelmed, her heart failed, her
eyelids dropped, she would have fallen on the floor,
had not the Duke sprang forward to catch her in his
arms.
And oh how sweet that burden was to him ! He
beheld this amiable girl, so young and so beautiful,
almost expiring of a secret jealousy of which be was
the sole cause ; at such a proof how could he doubt
that he was dearly loved ? Gratitude joined his pre-
vious inclination and these two sentiments impelled
him to place Filadelphe before Emilie ; and yet how
126
COURT OF ENGLAND
he wished that he could divide his heart between them
both, without causing offence to either, but it is only
when a Mistress has but little delicacy that she will
permit such a division. While he was all occupied
in his endeavour to revive this fair charmer, Emilie
looked them up and down, nor deigned to approach
her comrade. Her aversion, regarding her as she did
as a dangerous rival, could not possibly have been
greater.
The Duke for a while did not dare to ask her assist-
ance, fearing to give her further subject for complaint
at a time when she had still to be appeased about what
had gone before ; but at last pity prevailed over policy.
" Is it possible," he exclaimed, " that you see Fila-
delphe in this state without producing some remedy
wherewith to restore her ? ' :
u What do you wish me to do, my lord ? I am sure
you are a far cleverer Doctor than I am."
" But at least you can throw some water over her
face."
" There is none here," she replied, with cold in-
difference.
" You could go and ask for some," cried the Duke.
" There is a certain duty that we owe to one another."
" I don't owe her anything," said she. Then she
added with marked emphasis, " And you will find it
a difficult matter to get rid of me."
The Duke was angered at her manner. " Very
well," said he ," as you decline to help her I am going
to adopt the remedies that Doctors like myself ordi-
narily apply," and saying these words he approached
his mouth to that of Filadelphe and gave her, a
kiss!
" What, before my eyes ! v cried Emilie, and
snatched her from his arms.
" Yes, cruel one, before your eyes," he cried. " Why
127
MEMOIRS OF THE
should I concern myself about the feelings of a person
who gives no thoughts to me ? "
These mutual reprdaches would have continued,
perhaps with increasing bitterness, if Filadelphe, who
had received a blow on the head when Emilie had taken
her away from him had not opened her eyes. The
first object upon which they fell was the Duke, who
was engaged in the task of rubbing her hands with
Queen-of -Hungary- water. 1
" Ah my lord of your mercy leave me," she whis-
pered, pushing him from her, " all that comes from
you seems to be only poison for me." As she spoke
she turned her head aside that she might not see him.
Although the Duke quite realised that she was angry
at having found him at the feet of Emilie he was sur-
prised that she should assume that she had already made
so great a conquest over his heart that she had a right
to control him.
He found himself between these young people
beloved of them, and yet on the point of losing them
both, solely on account of their mutual jealousy. He
dared not show too great an interest in Filadelphe,
nor could he reconcile himself to treat her with in-
difference, his inclination was bewilderingly divided.
The access of his good fortune spelled the climax of
his unhappiness.
Whilst he was wondering as to how he might best
please both his mistresses they threw furious glances
at one another, and their sullen silence was more
eloquent than if they had said the most outrageous
things. The Duke regarded his plight as terrible.
What could he say to calm the one which would not
1 The universal toilette water up to the end of the eighteenth century.
It was made of spirits of wine with the essential parts of rosemary and
flowers, and was first distilled for the use of a queen of Hungary. It is
now, owing to the popularity of eau de Cologne, entirely obsolete.
128
COURT OF ENGLAND
annoy the other ? He would have wished to manage
them so as not to lose either, but they had too much
insight and too much cleverness not to guess and
unravel his thoughts; their delicacy and their
vanity were equally offended. Emilie, who had
been loved the first suffered the most impatiently
at the regard the Duke professed for her Rival
and she was just about to launch out as people do
on such occasions, when they heard the gouvernante
returning !
The thought of her severity alarmed them, they
immediately took common measures to guard them-
selves from the storm that would inevitably overwhelm
them did she discover the Duke.
" We are lost my lord ! " they cried. " Oh have
some regard for us."
" What can I do ? " he said.
" You must hide yourself in yonder Closet," cried
Emilie ; " we shall have to get you out of it secretly."
He agreed and as soon as he was in they took out
the key. 1
When the gouvernante came, she said she felt tho-
roughly tired, & that she would at once undress
herself and sup in her room, which adjoined & which
formed the only exit from, the one in which the Maids
were !
This she proceeded to do and Emilie, & Filadelphe
who felt equal alarm at the mischance, were still
further perturbed when she came to air herself in
their chamber. They were ready to die of fear lest
the Duke should make some noise, & the moments
past like centuries.
As for the Duke, alone, & in the dark, at the time
when he should have been supping with My Lord Grey,
he was enjoying but sorry entertainment !
1 See note to p. 51.
I 129
MEMOIRS OF THE
Upon this varied scene there arrived Madam Betty
Felton, 1 the only daughter of my Lord Suffolk, first
Gentleman of the Chamber to the King. Her mother,
a woman of great integrity, was first Lady in Waiting of
the Queen. Madam Betty had a beauty and youth that
were almost dazzling, and won her the love of all who
saw her, and being of a very gay disposition she seldom
frightened her lovers away by her looks. She espoused
a gentleman whose birth did not nearly equal her own,
his being very mediocre ; 2 but the liberty that girls have
in England to marry at fifteen against the approval of
1 Lady Elizabeth Howard (1656-81), only daughter of James,
third Earl of Suffolk (d. 1688), and Barbara (1622-81), daughter of
Sir Edward Villiers (d. 1621), a half-brother of George Villiers, first
Duke of Buckingham. (By his first wife, daughter of Rich, Earl of
Holland, Lord Suffolk had also an only daughter.)
Lady Elizabeth's paternal aunt, Frances (d. November 1677), married
the former's maternal uncle, Sir Edward Villiers (1620-89), and was the
governess of the Princesses Anne and Mary ; probably this in the first
instance caused Lady Elizabeth to be a frequent visitor at St. James's.
2 Sir Thomas Felton (1649-1708), M.P. for Oxford and subsequently
for Bury St. Edmunds, Comptroller of the Household to Queen Anne
succeeded his brother as fourth baronet, February 1696. Although
Lady Elizabeth married a younger son Madame d'Aulnoy is in error
in her estimate of the Felton family, which was one of antiquity and
standing. The Dictionary of National Biography, vol. xviii, p. 307,
calls it great. I am much indebted to the Rev. Sydenham Hervey
for the loan of an interesting article by his late father, entitled " Play ford
and the Feltons" a paper read at a meeting of the Suffolk Institute
of Archeology on October 24, 1 860, by the Hon. and Ven. Lord Arthur
Hervey, President of the Institute. The family of Felton, a branch
of which settled at Playford in 1513, traces its descent to Roger Bel tram,
Baron of Mitford and Lord of Felton, Northumberland, who died
26th Henry III. The Felton who assassinated Buckingham though a
member of the family has not so far been authoritatively identified by
modern genealogists.
Elizabeth's mother was the half -niece of Buckingham (see tree, p. 151
and as Buckingham was, in the eyes of the Villiers, as dazzling as Napoleon
was in those of the Buonapartes, the antipathy of the family to the match
is probably explained.
Sir Thomas and Lady Elizabeth left an only daughter who married
130
COURT OF ENGLAND
their relations was the reason that her inclination had
been her only guide. After the marriage My Lord
Suffolk declined to see his daughter, and he forbade
her his house, though at the same time he granted her
a large allowance to live on the scale to which she had
been accustomed since her infancy. This charming
woman was often at Court, and the Duke of Monmouth
had become enamoured of her ; she listened to him
willingly, for she found him amiable and his favours
and his rank agreeably flattered her vanity ; in the
hope of seriously engaging him she found herself
pledged to love him more than was good for her peace
of mind. This intrigue had been broken several times
only to be renewed but perhaps I had better not
say any more.
Not to interrupt what I have commenced to recount
it will suffice me to tell you, that she and the Mistress
of the Maids of Honour of Her Royal Highness the
Duchess of York, were intimate friends, and it was
their delight to sit up so late together that they had
to spend the next day in bed !
To-night on entering the gouvernante^s room,
Madam Betty exclaimed that the gouvernante must
not wonder at feeling low spirited because they had
not had a talk for such a long time. But at last she
had come and she was resolved not to stir from that
room until six o'clock the next morning !
in 1695 the first Earl of Bristol and so the Felton property became
merged into that of the Herveys. The Norfolk branch of the Felton
family is now believed to be extinct.
CHAPTER XVII
f" "^HE gouvernante accepted this decision with
delight, She said it was too charitable of her
to offer to lose her repose in contributing
J*- to the re-establishing of her own health,
that she had felt that there was something wanting to
restore her, but that she had not had the sense to
divine it. She knew it now ; it was the pleasure of a
long confabulation. She added, that she had a
thousand things to tell her, and they immediately
commenced to chat together, whilst Emilie and
Filadelphe were in despair at this new obstacle.
The Duke of Monmouth had also heard this con-
versation, he had been flattering himself that as soon
as the gouvernante had gone to bed, he would be able
to escape. Having no light, he could neither read nor
write, and the moon being late, the obscurity of the
night increased his ill humour.
The three younger ladies supped, and after this
Madam Betty Felton passed into the room of the
gouvernante^ Emilie and Filadelphe remaining alone,
each in an arm chair with their eyes cast down and not
saying one word, they made it a special point of
honour not to be the first to go to the Duke.
Their suffering was about equally balanced and
never was the lot of rivals less to be envied.
The Duke not hearing anything and deciding that
they were making game of him by leaving him shut
up, softly opened the door and quietly surveyed them ;
132
COURT OF ENGLAND
neither deigned to speak to him. They had ordered
their women not to come in, saying they would summon
them when required ; and they sat now in so pro-
found an oblivion that had he not made a slight noise
they might have continued so the whole night.
" Are you teasing me ? " he asked in a tone suffi-
ciently guarded to be heard but by them. " Is it your
intention to keep me confined much longer ? If,
because of my love for you, I must continue in here,
pray come and keep me company ; or if you refuse
that, find me the means of escape. I accommodate
myself but ill to this solitude." He spoke in so curt and
cold a strain that they feared he was seriously annoyed.
They both eagerly desired to speak privately with
him, but it was not his intention to be so foolish as to
make a distinction ; for she who remained alone would
not fail, at the risk of whatever might happen, to
inform the gouvernante. Neither replying, he grew
angry.
" Very well," he said, " if neither of you has an
expedient, I have one. Of this I am going to make
use ; " saying which he advanced as if about to walk
out.
In truth this was not his intention. Madam Betty
Felton's presence with the gouvernante being amply
sufficient reason to make him take the utmost pre-
caution to avoid being discovered. But the fair
charmers were much alarmed at the resolution he
thus expressed.
" Ha, my lord ! 5JI they cried, " do you wish to
sacrifice all our peace of mind ? '
Ernilie pushed him back into the closet, but too
late. The door which gave from the chamber of the
Maids into that of the gouvernante, was open, the
rising moon threw the Duke's shadow, and, Madam
Betty Felton having turned so as to see it, was not so
133
MEMOIRS OF THE
absorbed in the conversation, as to be incapable of
distraction at such a surprising sight ; but she had
sufficient control not to reveal anything as looking
towards the inner apartment she recognised her
unfaithful Lover.
She had a hundred impulses to betray him, a
thousand thoughts, a thousand resolutions, equally
confused and tumultuous forced themselves on her
mind. She rejected one, she approved another, she
feared if she exposed the Duke in his amorous intrigue
he would never forgive her ; and the next moment it
appeared to her that he was unworthy of the regard
she felt for him ; her jealousy combated her pru-
dence, her prudence forced her to combat her
jealousy ; so she continued, unable to make up her
mind.
Meanwhile Emilie and Filadelphe saw that they
must find a means of releasing the Duke from the
prison in which they had immured him, & they
decided that the only way was to lower him from the
window in a large basket. They had ropes, they could
attach to it and they would let this basket slide little
by little down the wall. The window overlooked the
park and the spot was so retired that they were sure,
that, at such an hour, no one would be witness of their
proceedings.
This they proposed to the Duke, who after some
parley finally acquiesced much less through a desire to
keep his appointment with My Lord Grey, than from
the embarrassment in which he found himself through
being in such close proximity to a woman to whom
every day he swore inviolable fidelity, and betwixt two
others who might well have wanted to choke each other
before his eyes had they given way to their mutual
rage.
Without hesitation he placed himself in the basket,
134
de Witt photo
JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH AND BUCCLEUCH
From a mezzotint painting by Wissing at Dalkeitk
COURT OF ENGLAND
this little machine was just descending without hitch
when two things happened to disconcert them all.
One was Lady Betty, who, unable any longer to
control her restless jealousy, had pretended to the
Duenna that she had left her fan in the inner room.
Entering swiftly and not seeing anyone she approached
the Closet, the door of which they had most impru-
dently left open. She arrived to see her Lover's
descent, being unperceived by Emilie and Filadelphe,
whose backs were towards her. The Duke's case was
different, his eyes were fixed on the window, and when
this Lady appeared he wished himself under the earth !
His only hope was to descend as quickly as ever he
could, and then avoid her for a while, and with these
sentiments, what were his feelings when he found that
instead of letting him continue to slip down the
wall, Emilie and Filadelphe were straining every
effort to draw him back, and as their hands were too
feeble and delicate for them to succeed in doing
so, there he stayed, suspended in the air ! The
situation appeared to him as disagreeable as it was
dangerous, and at last he rose up to see what was
passing below.
This curiosity could not have been more ill-timed,
because My Lord Arran, who was at the foot of the
window, had time to recognise him. It was on his
account that Emilie and Filadelphe had endeavoured
to draw the Duke back. They had hoped he would
not stop ; but what Lover would indifferently pass the
window of a mistress in whom he had every reason to
pride himself, without seizing upon the opportunity to
linger awhile in sentimental reverie. And what man,
however absent-minded, would not have felt the
liveliest curiosity upon beholding the basket ? The
Duke was less surprised to see my lord, than my lord
was to see him. Had this happened anywhere else
135
MEMOIRS OF THE
save than at Whitehall, Arran would have immediately
sought to revenge himself. 1
It was a most unlucky chance that had brought him
to this spot. Satisfied with his fortune, and con-
sidering himself so faithfully loved he had stayed for
hours in the darkest and most retired spot in the
garden, given over to these agreeable reflections ; and
when he at last wished to leave, he was surprised to
find the gates shut. There was one that was generally
open later than the rest, and he was glad to proceed
thither for it gave him a chance in passing of a glance
at Emilie's window. How dear this devotion cost him,
when he saw his Rival issuing forth therefrom. A
Rival so dangerous, so accustomed to please and win
love ! It is easy to judge of what passed in his heart,
whilst the Duke, what with the presence of my lord,
whom it was his desire to hoodwink, and Madam Betty
Felton who would not fail to betray the intrigue he
wished to hide, was hardly less agitated. Let us also
remember Emilie. What were her feelings when she .
saw My Lord Arran below, and Madam Betty Felton
behind ? She at once foresaw in imagination all the
trouble which would overwhelm her ; shame on the
one part, reproaches on the other ; the ingratitude of
the Duke for whom she had suffered so much ; & the
joy of Filadelphe. At last she so utterly lost control
of herself that she let go of the rope which held the
Duke in the air, and if Filadelphe had not asked the
help of their common Rival he would have fallen, and
My Lord Arran would have had the pleasure of seeing
him at his feet with a broken neck. But Madam Betty
Felton used all her strength to save her Lover ; he
descended unscathed. And what is so singular in a
scene of this nature is that he became aware that all
the actors were dumb. Perhaps because of the thought
1 See Appendix B.
136
COURT OF ENGLAND
that one can guess, or else astonishment, anger, and
jealousy had lost them the use of their voices. Be that
as it may, no one spoke. Lord Arran got away from
the Duke, not being able to look at him without the
greatest fury. The Duke avoided my lord from
shame of his witnessing his descent in a basket. Above,
Madam Betty Felton quitted the Closet without
deigning to look at or quarrel with the two girls she
had so much reason to hate, and they saw her go
without any desire to speak to her.
Shortly after, a prey to despair, she returned to her
home.
No sooner was Lord Arran clear of Whitehall than
he sought his lodging ; but he was too violently upset
to stay there quietly for long, & getting into his
carriage he proceeded to My Lord Saint Albans, 1
although he expected, it being two hours after mid-
night, to find him fast asleep. But so far from sleeping
he was disputing with the Duke of Buckingham. Arran
who heard them speaking, told the Valet de Chambre,
who was conducting him, not to enter. Lingering
in the doorway he recognised his Uncle's voice. 2
" No my lord, no, as long as I live I will not forgive
her for the ingratitude with which she has repaid my
attachment. If you had witnessed the manner in
which she received me, who had just rendered her an
essential service in praying the King to recall her to
London ; who, I say, had risked everything to speak
to her a moment, you would admit she is a most
odious woman."
1 Lord St. Albans lived in St. James's Square, the site of the present
Norfolk House.
2 His * uncle-in- law.' Buckingham was the uncle of his late wife.
Legal and Blood affinities were regarded as identical until within the
last fifty or eighty years, and this point of view still largely influences
the illiterate.
137
MEMOIRS OF THE
" Have you not read," interrupted My Lord Saint
Albans, "of the Amours of Henri IV. with the
beautiful Gabrielle Destrees ? " l
" Yes," said the Duke shortly, " but I cannot under-
stand how what happened a century ago has anything
to do with affairs of to-day "
" I was going to tell you," continued Saint
Albans. " This great King had disguised himself as a
peasant to traverse a dangerous pass, occupied by the
army of the enemy ; he presented himself before his
Mistress dressed in a mean habit, a sack of straw on his
head, sabots on his feet ; it was solely to see her that
he took this step and ran so many dangers. Never was
gallantry so badly received, she looked him up, she
looked him down ; she would hardly speak to him.
And this adventure makes me conclude that Ladies
yield more to what is splendid, to what makes a
sensation, than to the true merit, of a Lover's sincere
passion." 2
" I am aware of that," replied the Duke. " My
sailor's dress, by means of which I stole into her room,
wounded her refinement. What you tell me, reminds
me that one day, when we were disputing on some
important subject when I confess that I was wrong,
she forgave me without any difficulty, because she
1 Henri IV., Roi de France et Navarre (1554-1610). Gabrielle,
fifth daughter of Antoine d'Estrees, b. 1574 ?, d. on Holy Saturday,
April 10, 1599.
2 There are a good many versions of this story going about but
none of them repose on any very reliable authority. The author of
the Amours du Grand Alcandre gives a more particular reason for
Gabrielle's coldness. He states that shortly after their first meeting
Henri paid a second visit to his inamorata at the Chateau de Coeuvres,
in order to do so having to traverse the enemy's lines disguised as a wood-
cutter, but that the lady's head being at the time full of another man,
she received the king with a very bad grace, and after a few sharp words,
retired leaving her sister to entertain him.
138
COURT OF ENGLAND
saw me at Whitehall in my habit of Knight of the
Order." l
" Having had that experience," said My Lord
Saint Albans, " were you not very imprudent to go
and see her dressed as a Sailor ? "
The Duke then sang these words :
" * Altry tempy altre cure? '
" My appearance was certainly not such," he
continued, " that this woman should act as she did
and most distinctly will I have my revenge."
" You will do nothing in regard to her of which you
will not repent," said my lord. " I have proved that
at times one wins in wantonness what one vainly
endeavours to restore."
" I do not know what your experiences may be,"
said the Duke, " but all I can say in reply, is that I will
post up her Letters, and have them printed, that will
please her ! 53
My Lord Arran decided by the trend of this con-
versation that it would last till daylight, he was
delighted to hear the Duke speak against his Mistress,
even though ignorant of all facts, it was enough for
him that a woman was the object of his enmity.
" Yes, let us post up this ingratis lying protestations,
there is nothing I should not like to do to harm her,"
he cried, entering.
The Duke was surprised to see his nephew so
late.
" Do you know her, my lord ? " he asked.
" No, I do not know her," was the reply, " I only
espouse your quarrel."
" As I espouse all yours," said the Duke embracing
him, " but it is right you should know in whom you
1 Of the Garter ?
139
MEMOIRS OF THE
are concerned, it is My Lady Norwich, your good
cousin 1 and your faithful friend."
My Lord Arran who had always understood her to
be a woman whose heart could not be touched,
expressed extreme surprise. " You wish to put me
off the scent," said he; " it is a poor return for my
frankness and good intentions."
" You are going to be convinced that I have spoken
the truth," said the Duke. " You know her character.
Here are her Letters, which I fetched expressly after
parting with her to read to My Lord Saint Albans. If
you have enough patience to listen, you will judge for
yourself the position I hold in her estimation."
" In case there are some of yours," interrupted My
Lord Saint Albans, " I promise to give the audience
you desire."
" I was in such a temper when I took them out of
my cassere" said the Duke, " that I have not examined
them to see if there are any of mine. You will soon
see if there are any not addressed to me, for I loved her
so much that I invariably begged the letters she wrote
to others."
" You need not read those if you do not desire," said
My Lord Arran, " as long as you let us hear those that
serve to her particular condemnation, or prove in
general that women are all unfaithful, and that if we
1 First cousin- in-low ^ and by marriage !
Esme Duke of Lenox
James Duke of Mary Villiers Henry Earl of Arundel = Elizabeth
Lennox and
Richmond
Mary = ARRAN JANE BICKERTON = Henry, second son,
Earl of Norwich
140
COURT OF ENGLAND
would have peace and quiet it is necessary to banish
them for ever from civilised society "
My Lord Saint Albans looked at him. " Ah ha,
my lord," he said " you speak very differently from
what you did yesterday morning in the Park." My
Lord Arran laughed recklessly & began to sing the same
Italian words his uncle had done :
" * Altry Umpy altre cure? "
141
CHAPTER XVIII
FIRST LETTER
IF your other pleasures, that appear to so fully occupy you,
will allow you any time to devote to me, I shall be well
pleased to entertain you, whatever aversion I have for new
acquaintances. Your friends and mine have rendered
you such good offices, that you should take them kindly,
and, although, I have made advances to you sufficiently extra-
ordinary for a woman who piques herself on convention, I am,
my lord, persuaded that I shall not have cause to repent it
" Here, we have," said the Duke interrupting My
Lord Saint Albans, " the first letter that My Lady
Norwich ever wrote to me, I confess when I received
it I was charmed with the permission thus accorded to
pay my duties to her. Up till then I had never spoken
to her on anything in particular, but she already
pleased me infinitely and if there had been anything to
prevent me embarking with her, it would be that I
naturally hate affairs that drag out a long time, &, I
understood, from what the world said, that she was as
cold as she was beautiful. I will leave you to picture
with what pleasure I went to see her, I did not
wear sailor's clothes that day (it was perhaps a good
thing). I remember that Gaurer * had sent me a
material with a gold border and that But I am
ashamed to have interrupted you, to speak of so small
1 So far unidentified. ' His Majesty's tailors ' appear to have been
John Allan and William Watts. Cf. Sheppard's The Old Royal
Palace of Whitehall, 1902, pp. 371-373.
142
COURT OF ENGLAND
a matter. Allez ! continue your reading, I will not
interrupt again."
SECOND LETTER
You were so very tired when you left me last evening that
I fretted the night through. It must be, I thought, because
I was not so amiable or else no one could sleep so much in my
company ; I remembered also, that I had said some very nice
things to you, which you did not even hear ! Surely in giving
way to such drowsiness you do not deserve to have heard them.
My sister desires that you take Tea or Coffee when next you
come to see her, she says that it is better than either Opium
or Laudanum. If you had not taken them, my lord, you
would not have slept on a Couch during your first hours with
your Mistress.
" What ! the Duke of Buckingham went to sleep in
the presence of two beautiful Ladies ! " cried My Lord
Arran. " O terns ! O mceurs I ?:
" There would be something to clamour about,"
replied the Duke, " if I had been alone charged with
the care of entertaining them ; but I was in the middle
of twenty women, who all talked at once, and talked
the sort of empty tittle-tattle in which no man of good
sense can engage. What would you advise in a
similar case ? My Mistress was there, and I did not
wish to go away, yet the Company wearied me, and I
would not amuse it, so I pretended to sleep "
" It would have been better," interrupted My Lord
Saint Albans, " to have placed yourself near her, and in
a low tone addressed no one but her "
" The advice is easy to give," interrupted the Duke,
" but when one has any feeling for a woman, and all the
others are critically watching her, do you think it
would be easy to separate her from the rest of the
group without it being remarked ? ' :
" You have sufficiently justified yourself," broke in
My Lord Arran ; " let us hear another letter."
MEMOIRS OF THE
THIRD LETTER
My Cat the terror of the mice my poor Cat is dead !
He needs an Epitaph, that posterity may know all the most
remarkable things he has done during his life. I address
myself to you, My Lord Duke, because no one in the world
is more capable of touching the heart, there is ample testimony
of this in the Verses you gave me yesterday, they brought
tears to the most beautiful eyes in the world.
Why are you permitted to know so well all the art of loving
when you only make a wanton use of it ?
" She made me this reproach," said the Duke,
" because I went to the Chase one day when I might
have seen her."
" How do you make a fault of that ? " demanded
My Lord Saint Albans.
" You know," replied the Duke, " that my duties
oblige me to accompany the King ; and, although I
excuse myself oftener than I ought, it seemed that day
that his Majesty remarked it, and I thought it was not
wise to invite his coldness or suspicion. Perhaps this
was the first time in my life that prudence overruled
my wishes."
" We will not scold you too much, for that," said
My Lord Arran, provided you show us those exquisite
Verses which brought c tears to the most beautiful eyes
in the world.' :
" The subject was lovely enough," said the Duke
" it dealt with the regrets of Venus over the death of
Adonis. It is a long time since I wrote them. My
Lady Shrewsbury l gave me the idea. -She knows
Italian and I find that language has many sweet and
1 The best known of Buckingham's many mistresses : Anna Maria
Brudenell (b. ?), daughter of the second Earl of Cardigan, m. January
10, 1658, the eleventh Earl of Shrewsbury. He was killed by Bucking-
ham in the famous duel, 1668. She married in 1677, a Mr. Bridges, and
died April 20, 1702.
144
COURT OP ENGLAND
tender terms most suitable for expressing the grande
'passion^ or the sentiments of an afflicted soul. At the
time I laboured under such heavy afflictions that I
composed the piece without taking any very great pains
with it."
" As I can never define a violent attachment," said
My Lord Saint Albans, " I will not speak of yours for
My Lady Shrewsbury."
The reminiscence caused the Duke to sigh, he fixed
his eyes on the ground for some while in silence.
Presently he reverted with a start to where he was.
" If you wish," he said, " to see me in the profoundest
melancholy, you have but to recall to me that happy
time when I was so tenderly loved by one of the most
beautiful people in the Universe."
" Let us continue our reading," said My Lord
Arran, " rather than linger over thoughts which only
give pain."
FOURTH LETTER
Although my name is sufficiently unusual for it to be difficult
to find, my Fete, 1 the old Duke found it in a back almanack
& he hath regaled me with music a V antique or rather with
rough modern music so singular, as to be unique. Where were
you, my lord, at the time the dangerous Rival endeavoured
to destroy you, by his nocturnal serenade ? Do you so trust
my heart to be faithful to you, & do you not know that there are
moments of caprice when merit is not the desideratum
" Who could this old Duke be ? " queried My
1 This was one of the most important clues for the identification of
" la Comtesse de ," and also one that led us most astray, for the
corollary of the sentence was that the lady's name was both rare and
unusual, whereas it was only uncommon in that, at this period, it figured
but once in the Roman calendar, St. Jane of Flanders who was canonised
145 ; four other St. Janes have been canonised since ; St. Jane of the
Cross, St. Jane of Portugal, St. Jane of Valois and St. Jane Frances,
Mme. de Chantal. Roman Catholics keep their Fete day, the day
sacred to the patron saint (whose name they bear), as a festivity of
equal importance to a birthday.
K I4S
MEMOIRS OF THE
Lord Arran. "Could it be the Duke ;of Norfolk? 1
I know of no one more gallant "
" No," said My Lord Buckingham, smiling, " it was
not he, and as you are so anxious to know, it was the
Duke of Ormonde." 2
" What, my Father ! "
" None other. He had arrived from his Vice
Royalty in Ireland, where he had passed three years
without visiting the Court. He went to pay his duty
to the Queen. She was in her Closet, & he had time
to examine all the ladies in her room, My Lady Norwich
who was amongst them charmed him "
" There is no need to trouble to recall any more,"
said My Lord Arran, " what you have already said
reminds me that my Mother-in-law, the Duchess of
Richmond, gave a supper, & he arrived just at the same
moment as did the portrait of her ladyship of Norwich
which had been sent to the Duchess as a New Year's
gift. He calmly appropriated it and returned home
without speaking to a soul, the result being that we
continued to wait for him, and did not get any supper
until midnight ! "
" I have never been so angry in all my life as I was
at that theft," interrupted the Duke of Buckingham,
" because I must tell you that portrait was only sent to
my sister that she might give it to me. I had an ex-
cellent picture drawer over from Holland for the simple
purpose of executing it, Lord Norwich was aware that
his wife wished to give my sister her portrait & he had
consented to her sitting. But when at length I
hastened to my sister to make myself master of the
treasure that Love gave me a more legitimate right to
1 Her bachelor brother-in-law, Thomas Howard, fifth Duke of
Norfolk (1627-77).
2 James, first Duke of Ormonde, K.G., b. October 19, 1610, d. July 21,
1688, and is buried in Westminster Abbey.
146
COURT OF ENGLAND
possess than it gave the Duke of Ormonde, I learned,
with an overwhelming indignation, the turn he had
served me : it meant that I had taken the trouble to
have the limner expressly over from Amsterdam to
paint a beautiful picture for your Father ! Things like
that do not suit me. I admit I blamed my sister just
as much as if she had been the cause of it all ; we
quarrelled, & then I went to the lady herself to relate
all my trouble to her. The manner in which she
sympathised seemed so tender that I had no reason to
question but that it was her intention to give me the
portrait in proof of our love. We agreed that she
should write to the Duke of Ormonde and ask him to
return it, and a copy of her Letter is with these."
After searching for a moment he found it, & read
these words aloud :
FIFTH LETTER
I will not ask, my lord, your reason for taking my portrait
away from the Duchess of Richmond ; if you merely desired
it to decorate your Closet, there are others more beautiful
& more complete ; & if you desire it as an acquisition in the
possession of which you find pleasure, it is not very nice of you
to ogle one that you did not receive from my hands, & which
will not remain in yours except under the ban of my dis-
pleasure.
" I was in my Father's Chamber," said My Lord
Arran, when he received this note. " He was so
confused, and his need of some one to confide in was
so great, that he did not hesitate to tell me his position.
He asked if I counselled him to send the painting back,
he was afraid he should irritate her ladyship by keeping
it, but I advised him not to do so. I said it seemed to
me to be merely her modesty that had caused her to
seek its return, but that really she was not in the least
annoyed at its being in a place where it would receive
H7
COURT OF ENGLAND
a far greater meed of admiration than at the Duchess
of Richmond's. In the end I so fortified him against
My Lady Norwich's menaces that he resolved not to
obey her."
" I see the obligation under which you placed me,
my dear nephew," ironically interrupted My Lord
Duke. " You were very short-sighted to give such
advice to the Duke of Ormonde."
" I did not know that you were interested in the
matter, my lord," replied My Lord Arran, " for I
swear to you I should have willingly sacrificed my
Father to you."
CHAPTER XIX
WHILST this conversation was going on my
Lord Saint Albans continued his search
amongst the letters for the Verses the
Duke had made on Venus and Adonis.
The Duke suddenly realised this, and explained that
My Lady Shrewsbury had kept them and that he wished
to complete the reading of the letters.
SIXTH LETTER
I know that the great value of the scarf I sent you yesterday
lies in the fact that it is the work of my hands. My heart,
which is also concerned, prompted me to think of twining our
ciphers together, & surrounding them with every tender
device sported by the God of Lovers. I reflected on the joy
he had brought me when he wounded us with the same dart ;
I wished to reveal my bliss to you by festoons of roses fastened
by double lovers' knots, but shall I tell you ? I remembered
tnat one never sees roses without thorns, & that supposing
someday you were to change, it would hurt me so cruelly that
the thorns would penetrate my heart & cause my death.
" This letter is stronger than any we have read so
far," observed My Lord Arran ; " it shall be one of the
first we post up, if you adhere to that design."
" I assure you,"' said My Lord Saint Albans, " I
shall lock them up in my closet and not let you have
one."
" What ! protect this faithless one," exclaimed My
Lord Duke.
" That is more than you know," was the retort.
149
MEMOIRS OF THE
" She hath only given you a cold reception and per-
haps she thinks she hath ample reason for it ; but
supposing she had given you a real cause for complaint
would it become you to ruin the reputation of a Lady
that you had previously loved ? "
The Duke sighed and without any comment prayed
him to continue.
SEVENTH LETTER
How malicious she is, that Duchess with the blue eyes &
the black hair ! She looked at me in so eloquent a manner
as to make me fear her, my lord. Unless you hate her, you have
no longer any love for me. I overheard sighs not intended
for my ears ; you were offering your incense on an altar from
which I received but the smoke. You must not accustom
yourself to such behaviour, for I shall never grow complaisant,
ever being both mutinous & sagacious, though I will never be
the kill-joy of your pleasure.
" Here is the first stirring of jealousy," commented
My Lord St. Albans, " proving you were loved."
" Say rather," replied the Duke, " that it reveals an
endeavour to pick a quarrel over mere vivacity of
spirit, for the lady of whom she speaks was the Duchess
of Cleveland x and all the world knows that there never
have been eyes that had so little effect on me ; if I
sigh when I am in her presence it is because I cannot
strangle her. Nevertheless, see the pretty pretext
my lady adopted to reproach me."
" Perhaps she knew," said My Lord Arran, " that
you once sighed for her, and it is natural to believe
that what has pleased will please again."
" It needs more than that to take me in," cried the
Duke, " for I have pitted myself against this Favourite
with so much vigour that I should be out of my mind
to become once more her lover. But however well
1 The Duchess of Cleveland (1641-1709) married April 14, 1659,
150
COURT OF ENGLAND
My Lady Norwich was informed on all this, you would
never believe the way she persecuted me nor the suffer-
ings she made me undergo, because of this unhappy
delusion of hers. She seemed so thoroughly convinced
of the truth of her notion that it appeared that nothing
would give it the lie. I will read you one of the letters
I wrote to her on this subject," he continued, taking
up a paper.
" Yes, let us hear it," hastily acquiesced My Lord
Saint Albans, " it is the first we have had from you."
EIGHTH LETTER
Never did I expect as long as I lived that you would change.
Alas ! hath the great tenderness, of which your heart was
surety, come to an end simply through jealousy ? Am I the
victim of a caprice which has seized you and will you not give
me any quarter ? I have never opposed myself to you Madam.
If it is your desire to call me guilty I consent to be condemned,
but if you are acting in cold blood, at least give me justice.
Roger Palmer (1634-1705), Earl of Castlemain. She was first cousin
once removed to the second Duke of Buckingham.
First Second
Audry Sanders = Sir George Villiers of = Mary Beaumont
Brokesby, Bart, d. 1605
Sir Edward, second son (ancestor
by his second son of the Earls
of Jersey), d. 1626
William, his eldest son, succeeded
his maternal great-uncle as
second Viscount Grandison, d.
for the king, 1643, leaving *an
only child
Barbara, created Baroness Nonsuch ,
Countess of Southampton and
Duchess of Cleveland, August 3,
1670.
George, first Duke of Bucking-
ham, second son of second
marriage (1595-1629),
George, second Duke (1628-87)
MEMOIRS OF THE
The condition in which I am would cause you pity if you are
still capable of that emotion. My gloom approaches despair ?
Ah, why, Madam, do you inflict such misery on me ? You
to whom I owe so much happiness.
" I am persuaded," said My Lord Arran, " that she
tenderly accorded what you asked of her."
" By no means," replied the Duke. " She had
sworn to try my patience to the utmost limit. In
addition I had secret enemies about her who every
day were gossiping on various things to my detriment,
in particular about Madam A . . . ,* that beautiful
young Scotch lady, who had come to Court over the
criminal affair of her brother."
" I remember her charms too well," said My Lord
Saint Albans, " to have forgotten the disgust which
was excited when you became attached to her, for
all the other Hectors were persuaded it was quite
useless to attempt to follow you."
" It is true," admitted the Duke, " that she received
the signs of my passion with great goodness, but it is
still true that this affaire did not resemble in the re-
motest degree the one I shared with My Lady Nor-
wich. If they try to make it a crime for a man to
love more than once in his life surely there are none
who live innocent !
" Notwithstanding these reasons she continued to
try me to the utmost limit. Judge of it by this
Letter."
NINTH LETTER
A thousand secret presentiments informed me but too
surely of your inconstancy ; or rather, that intuition which
is always inseparable from true attachments, has caused me
to perceive that your attitude toward me has not been all it
should be. I have tried to deceive myself, & the trouble
that you took to trick me has aided the delusion. Alas ! I
have loved you to a fault ! What would happen to me if I
1 We have been unsuccessful in our efforts to identify this lady.
152
COURT OF ENGLAND
had continued to do so, or, to put it better, if you had wished
as much as I wish that our love should never die ? O Dieu,
to think that though you have deserted me and that to my
shame, I still love one so thankless.
" On this single letter I conclude that you were
wrong," said My Lord Saint Albans.
" On this single letter I conclude she was a fool,"
retorted the Duke. " Complaining with no reason
whatever, she manufactures her chimera expressly to
support it, and for my torment. She knew that I
loved no one save herself. . . . You hold the answer
that I made her."
TENTH LETTER
The unjust reproaches with which you overwhelm me, have
so upset me, that I am convinced if you continue much longer
in this strain it will endanger my life. All night long have I
fought my impulse to write to you, but this morning I can no
longer restrain myself. At the expense of all my pride, I
reveal my weakness, imploring of you to give me back your
heart ; for, without it, I swear to you happiness & I are strangers.
Triumph over my foolishness, make what use you please of
your victory, the condition in which I am prevents me from
defending myself.
" If she was not touched by this letter I shall hate
her more than I have done," observed My Lord Arran.
" For it contains such convincing evidence of tender-
ness as must have vanquished all her delusions."
" Here," replied the Duke, " is her response."
ELEVENTH LETTER
You detail your sentiments so engagingly that it would
be difficult to withstand you, did one not feel sure that you
address others in precisely similar terms. I find it impossible
to accommodate myself to a divided heart. For me : outout,-
ou rien !
" I am very impatient," observed My Lord Saint
Albans, " to meet a letter heralding peace."
IS3
MEMOIRS OF THE
" It was obtained by a means I but little relished,"
continued the Duke. " Naturally I did not care to
cause trouble to one I loved, but when I realised that
however humbly I submitted she only flouted me,
I pretended to attach myself to a woman whose ad-
vanced age & extreme ugliness made her unattractive
to the last degree. Still her intellectual qualities so
atoned for her dearth of charms, that she could not
but be a dangerous rival and Lady Norwich, much
annoyed, wrote me these lines."
TWELFTH LETTER
It appears that all the World is of one mind to inform
me of the manner in which you offend against me. Alas I
already know it too well and the disclosures that I continually
receive are not necessary to convince me, not only that you
have never loved me but that you are ever ready to sacrifice me.
And to what a Divinity, good heavens ! You are like the
Indians and the Savages who worship frightfulness. I am
ashamed of you. I am ashamed of my sex !
" I pretended to misunderstand this note," said
the Duke, " & did not answer it. Then I met her at
the Queen's, and, although she gave me opportunities
to speak to her, I did not profit by them but remained
constantly attached to my Oldster. I followed her
everywhere ; & I swear to you that this diversion,
ridiculous though it was, did not fail to prove a great
alleviation of my distress, for if my eyes were but ill
rewarded when I looked at her, my intellect was fully
engaged. When we conversed, it seemed that all the
Graces and all the Loves found utterance through
her lips "
" Ha ! " exclaimed My Lord Saint Albans, " Now
I know why you have not named her ; to a certain
extent you were my rival."
" No," said the Duke, " I only pretended to be so.
IS4
COURT OF ENGLAND
If you will read this letter you will realise that nothing
arouses one's Mistress more than occasionally to let
her think that one is capable of changing."
THIRTEENTH LETTER
You have so little troubled to merit my heart, & you take
such an effective course to lose it, that apparently I must
love you in spite of whatever you do. I am not blind to your
faults. I see them all much more than any other would,
because I am so much concerned. Still, my lord, be it destiny,
caprice, the two together, or something greater than either,
my feelings can never change with regard to you, I shall
always remain the same. Alas was ever destiny so sad as mine !
If you only pitied me, and nothing more, my lot would not be
so sad as it now is. But what do I say ? " If you only pitied
me ? " How foolish I am. No, my lord, no, I will not com-
plain again. You must give me the very essence of your soul,
or dismiss my existence from your mind.
A compromise ?
It is beneath me !
" My resolutions died, when I read this letter,"
My Lord Duke continued. " It was beyond my power
to wreck my peace of mind in holding out any longer
against a woman whom I loved. I went to see her ;
I threw myself at her feet ; I asked a thousand pardons ;
and once more a perfect understanding reigned
between us. No one ever tasted a happiness greater
than I knew then ; it seemed that all I had endured
gave new life to our transports. Affairs of State were
troublesome at the time and the role allotted to me by
the King comprised many important duties, but not-
withstanding I never neglected my Mistress, I even
wrote to her every day. Here is one of my Notes
oh, you have it there," (said he addressing My Lord
Saint Albans )
" It being in your caligraphy," replied the latter,
" I had selected it for us to read next."
155
COURT OF ENGLAND
FOURTEENTH LETTER
Since I first began to love you, although it hath ever seemed
that my passion could not be stronger, yet have I always known
that it continued to grow (and still grows) in a way that causes
me amazement. Is it possible, that even while I write, it is
increasing ? Ah tender notion, how grateful it is to my heart !
And I know also the thing that could make my love double-
treble. What is it ? It is, my beloved lady, that you should
adore me, as I adore you.
"I swear," said My Lord Arran, "that I should
never have believed you capable of this grande -passion"
" What should prevent it ? " demanded the Duke
with a smile.
"Your attachment for My Lady Shrewsbury," replied
the other. " It seems to me that when one hath loved so
intensely, & for such a prolonged period, it would be im-
possible to feel the same in more mundane affairs."
" That is far from being an accepted rule," replied
the Duke, " there are persons who cannot exist without
an affaire in train."
" Ah ! " said My Lord Saint Albans, " but that is a
habit that can only be called a recreation."
" Habit may have a share," replied the Duke, " & for
a certain type of person such an affair is not serious.
When such people try to justify themselves, they say
that it is impossible to have many real affections & that
the earliest are usually both the strongest & the most
poignant. I wish indeed I could endorse this, but
for my part, I find my devotion never grows less.
I change but the object of my affections. Sometimes
a blonde, next a brune will captivate me ; by one
after another am I enslaved ; that is the only variation
I can observe in my feelings."
The two gentlemen could not help laughing heartily
at what the Duke said, & then not wishing to waste
time in making reflections My Lord Saint Albans
read the following :
156
CHAPTER XX
FIFTEENTH LETTER
NO, I cannot think of anything more objectionable
than the visits of ceremony one is compelled to
receive. I passed all to-day in a constraint I
cannot describe. It is true you were beside me,
but it is also true that to see you, & neither dare
to speak to you or even look at you without the most guarded
precaution, rendered your presence simply a punishment.
Be sure you write and say that you felt the pain equally with
me, & rail, even as I do, against the annoyance. I flatter myself
that our situation was sufficient to occupy you, for you did not
appear even to perceive the charms of that lean beauty who was
near you. At least so it seemed to me & in any case leave me
in ignorance for I love you too well not to be jealous.
" And who was the dangerous ' lean beauty ' ? "
demanded Saint Albans.
" It was Miledy . . ." replied the Duke with a
malicious glance at My Lord Arran.
The latter reddened at these words. After a
moment's hesitation he said, " I avow you dis-
concert me ! I never expected to meet you at such a
juncture."
" Ah a meeting sometimes occurs without a Rendez-
vous" replied the Duke. " Nevertheless I may assure
you that whatever may have been said of that Lady
she certainly was not my Beauty."
" She certainly was not ours" said Saint Albans
laughing, " though I was the ill-used one, the Lady
sacrificing me without scruple to My Lord Arran,
IS7
MEMOIRS OF THE
whilst he sacrificed her in precisely the same way to
young Emilie "
" Oh my God ! " groaned the young man, " must
you recall all my fury which hath been momentarily
silenced through My Lord Duke's recital ? How could
I endure abandoning myself again to the memory of
the cruellest treachery that anyone has ever known."
" I assure you," said My Lord Saint Albans, " that
had I known it I would have done nothing to upset
you like this ; but I am not a sorcerer "
" Then what did you think I had come here for ? JS
demanded My Lord Arran, " is it customary to pay
a conventional visit in the middle of the night ! "
" No," replied the other, " it is not. But it is
still more strange that you should occupy yourself
for two hours and more, conversing on indifferent
topics without making any allusion to the errand that
brought you."
" Alas ! " replied my lord with a profound sigh,
" if I wished for peace it was not to be found in
detailing my own affairs. I welcomed a distraction
from what I had come to tell you "
" That being so," said My Lord Saint Albans
briskly, " let us get on with the letters."
SIXTEENTH LETTER
I am expiring with vexation & dread. Esther hath lost the
Billet you wrote yesterday, & it is quite possible it may fall into
my husband's hands ! If that is so, my lord, I am lost. Still
in such a case, risk nothing ; your safety is dearer than my own.
Take every precaution & do not come to me till we know our
position the better. This wariness must cost me dear indeed
if I do not see you for a long time. And what can I foretell ?
Oh my God, I may never see you again.
I am in utter despair.
" This letter alarms me almost as much as she
COURT OF ENGLAND
herself was alarmed when she penned it," cried My
Lord Saint Albans, " for had the husband found this
amorous epistle he certainly would have passed a bad
half hour."
" I thought the same at the time," replied the
Duke, " & my anxiety nearly killed me. It drove me
so far as to send to tell her that should Norwich dis-
cover our liaison I would fight him to protect her,
either by the death of her husband or of myself, from
all that she had occasion to fear."
" Was not this remedy after your affair with My
Lord Shrewsbury rather desperate ? " asked My
Lord Arran. " Could she not have sworn to a cer-
tainty that a Duel with her husband would have
spelled the reverse of widowhood for her ? ' :
" Do not joke," said the Duke. " Had we fought,
the destiny of which you speak, might have befallen
me. Much alarmed she wrote me this other Note : "
SEVENTEENTH LETTER
What my lord would you avert a possible evil by an assured
one that would lose us to each other forever ? The very thought
frightens me to death. I trust that the Note, the cause of all
the trouble, may not cause me any evil ; but should it do so
I cannot consent to any violence ; and although I love you only,
& have a supreme aversion for the disturber of our peace, I
should be capable of defending him, were you capable of
attacking him.
" I found," said the Duke, " that her sentiments were
very beautiful, & my esteem for her was augmented.
The loss of the Note most fortunately had no bad
results for Esther found it, so there was no necessity
for me to do anything extravagant.'*
" In truth you give it a very suitable name, 5 ' said
My Lord Arran, " for can there be anything more
extravagant than to fight a man because he has good
reason to be angry with his Wife ? "
IS9
MEMOIRS OF THE
" Would you have had me abandon her to the trouble
I had brought upon her ? " cried the Duke. " Would
you do that ? "
" Aye," said the other, " I would do it, &, better
still, I will do it. Why aid women to be faithless
coquettes ? Is it not better to leave them to hang
themselves or let their Husbands avenge you ? "
" Ha ! you argue very badly on the spur of the
moment, my lord," cried My Lord Saint Albans.
" It is impossible to listen to you with patience.
I should never have thought to hear you say such sense-
less things."
" For my part," said the Duke, " so far from
being impatient I swear I am much amused, though
I do not know how he hopes to establish that a man
greatly captivated by a Lady, on whose account he
hath every reason to congratulate himself, ought, by
the rules of honour, to permit her husband to ill-use
her."
" You are two against me," said My Lord Arran,
" & as you are capable of attacking me so cleverly I must
not be surprised at the obstinacy with which you
uphold a bad cause. I do not attempt by my re-
monstrances to direct you to my better way, I content
myself with not following yours."
Without replying, My Lord Saint Albans took
another letter.
EIGHTEENTH LETTER
If the occasions upon which favours have been granted me
unasked have, instead of bringing contentment, cost me sore
dear I can only say that those for which I am compelled to sue
are a thousand times more disagreeable. Assist my pride if
you can, and you are generous & grateful. Here is a Memo-
randum of what I want you to do : if you will not grant my
request soften the refusal ; but if you do accord it, remember,
my lord, you must act promptly.
160
COURT OF ENGLAND
" It related," said the Duke, " to My Lord Clifford 1
who had lost the King's good graces over some advice
he had given him, the result of which had not been
altogether happy. We had become very distant since
a heated dispute we had when in Council. I had no
reason to be pleased with him, & without vanity I may
say that I had greatly contributed to his success in
obtaining the position of Chancellor of the Exchequer.
Finding he needed my support to maintain him in
this office, & being uneasy at my coldness he had so
shrewdly studied me as to discover that I was ena-
moured of My Lady Norwich. He won her to his
interest as all ladies who love gaming & the spending
of money are to be won. Subsequently he pretended
some matter of which he gave me a Memoir, so as to
have an excuse to approach me. Though I saw
through this design I was anxious to fulfil her wishes
& I did not make any difficulty about according him
my countenance.
" My Mistress appeared very pleased, & our good
understanding continued until the King ordered me
to proceed to the Hague as Ambassador Extraordinary
to arrange the terms of peace with the Dutch.
"We arrived on the 4th of July 1672 and had a long
conference with the Deputies of the States. After-
wards we visited the Prince of Orange's army,
they accompanying us and then we all proceeded
to the Army of the King of France which we found
near Utrecht. We followed it as far as Bental ; but
as this concerns rather Affairs of State that have not
any particular bearing on the subject I will content
myself with telling you that My Lady Norwich some
1 Thomas Clifford, b. August 1, 1630 ; raised to the peerage, April 22,
1672, as Lord Clifford of Chudleigh ; d. October 17, 1673. He was
the C of the famous Cabal administration, of which Buckingham was the
head.
i 161
COURT OF ENGLAND
days before my departure from London wrote me a very
tender Letter."
My Lord Saint Albans taking it from his hands
read these words :
NINETEENTH LETTER
As you have asked me for my Portrait as an alleviation of
your woes, I am anxious for you to have it, there being nothing
I would not do to assuage your sorrow. Do not think but that
I envy its happy fate, -for will you not be inseparables ?
You will look at it often, you will make love to it, while I am
weeping at your absence, and knowing no other joy than receiv-
ing news of you.
Ah, my lord, I avow I cannot realise that you are so near your
departure. Perhaps the flattering hope that it may not be
true is imparted to my soul to prevent my succumbing to my
grief.
TWENTIETH LETTER
What would I not give to prevent this journey ! Alas !
How happy were the lovers of the first centuries. Faithful
to their affection, exempt from ambition, they lived with their
loves under rustic roofs nor ever abandoned the objects of
their adoration or wandered from their sides. Princes' interests
never came to disturb these innocent pleasures ; a Negocia-
tion, or perhaps a Treaty of bad faith, never snatched the
Shepherd from his Shepherdess ! Blessed time, what hath
become of you ? Why is it our capricious destiny to be born
in this century ?
It is now my sad fate to witness your departure. You will
renounce all this for an imaginary glory ; which will fill your
head in place of the sweetnesses of love,
162
CHAPTER XXI
i
^ WO such engaging letters," said the Duke,
" sensibly affected me. I managed to see
her ladyship at a certain hour. What did
she not say to me ? I found her all in tears.
I might have been going from one Pole to the other !
I think this little traitress cries whenever it suits her,
but upon this occasion I was completely duped by
these tears &, in the excess of my devotion, I wrote
her this letter : "
TWENTY-FIRST LETTER
Can I ever express the passion, the gratitude that fills me ?
Words seem powerless to paint what I feel and there is nothingthat
I would not do for you. As you are the sweetest woman in the
world I swear that I am the tenderest of men. Let me know at
what hour I can tell you so, & let that happy moment be soon*
I fear if you retard it ever so little I shall die of impatience.
" Can you speak evil," asked My Lord Saint Albans,
" of a person who inspired you with so strong a pas-
sion ? and are you not aware that the more a woman
makes herself loved, the more we are obliged to love
her ? For the lighter engagements which languish
& are ever ready to expire, merely amuse the heart,
without giving it the real happiness ; the soul is not
touched & a man sees his Lady without experiencing
much of either joy or feeling. But where one loves
with all one's heart, one's emotions are at once lively
and refined ; there is a tender melancholy, a stronger
fear, a happiness all understanding."
163
MEMOIRS OF THE
" What you say is true," interrupted My Lord
Arran, " one ought to repay a mistress for any care
she may take to please one and for the trouble she puts
herself to in forging fetters for us which are acceptable
and pleasant. But when the ingrate hath troubled
to charm only to desert one, is there a limit to the
wrath she inspires ? "
" Let us finish reading my letters," said the Duke,
" then we will try to find out if it is possible to hate
when one has really loved."
" There is a letter in your hand," remarked My Lord
Saint Albans.
" Aye, I sent it to my mistress when I was on the
point of departure for the Low Countries. My mind
was still full of the one in which she wrote the pane-
gyric on the beautiful love of past times & of it I
wrote as you will see."
TWENTY-SECOND LETTER
The bare thought of leaving you causes me to suffer so
terribly that I really think death would be easier than to be
absent from you. I am so changed that my friends do not
recognise either my person or my mind. And what use is it
to love you as I do ? The proprieties keep you in London
whilst duty takes me to the Hague. Why are you not a
Shepherdess, Why am I not a Shepherd ? What sweetness
we should experience ; how great would be my pleasure to
have you to myself. But alas ! how do I know you would for
me as I would for you forgo all the world ?
" I left.
" My Lord Russell desired to travel with me. I was
very happy & did not know at the time that I had with
me a very dangerous spy. You will understand that,
when I explain that he loved My Lady Norwich
himself, though he had still to declare his passion.
After he discovered my feelings for her, & also that
she was not indifferent to me, he took no outward
164
COURT OF ENGLAND
bteps to ruin me in her eyes, for he decided that a
secret enemy hath a free-er hand than a declared one,
&, that by maintaining this position, he would be better
able to deal me buffets, & I, not knowing from whence
they came would be able to defend myself only with
difficulty. These conclusions brought him to Holland.
Before he left he arranged with his friend Mme. Hyde
casually to show my Mistress, when she mentioned me,
letters he would write home for that purpose.
" As soon as I arrived at the Hague she wrote with
the utmost tenderness sending a copy of some replies
she had made to the Duke of Ormonde in my absence.
I think you will find them sufficiently amusing.
TWENTY-THIRD LETTER
If you are prepared to establish a genuine & agreeable
friendship with me my lord, such as is accompanied with
recreation, but which has no other motive, I consent. But
my lord if you intend anything further you must withdraw
your troops and lay siege to a heart easier to conquer than
mine.
TWENTY-FOURTH LETTER
Three or four things equally annoyed me to-day. I have
been playing & have lost ; my Spaniel is dead ; the gloves
you sent are too strongly perfumed ; the fans seem dull,
and your Note is too tender. I send back to you, my lord,
both the gifts & the declaration ; keep them both for some one
more disposed than I am to bestow such gratitude as you
desire.
TWENTY-FIFTH LETTER
As I do not dislike you when you stay at home, and as I am
?uite happy here, why let us both remain where we are !
estimate what you now tell me, by what you told me formerly.
Judge yourself of what my reply is by my previous replies.
Your importunity wearies me. It is not time that conquers
my heart ; it must be surprised ; & if the first attempt falls
short the situation can never be retrieved.
" I perceived something delicate and single-minded
165
COURT OF ENGLAND
in the care she took to let me know the attitude the
Duke of Ormonde was adopting in regard to her.
The matters with which I was charged did not occupy
me so fully that I could not devote my best hours
either in writing to her or in dwelling on her portrait.
One day when I had fixed my gaze upon it with so
much delight that nothing could have distracted my
attention, My Lord Russell entered my chamber so
quietly that I did not hear him. He saw the portrait ;
it renewed most vividly to him the fact of my good
fortune.
" He was about to leave when I noticed him. His
presence caused me extreme uneasiness and ominous
forebodings. I wanted to explain, & yet I did not dare
to make any comment, fearing to inform him of a
thing of which he perhaps knew nothing. We looked
at each other in mutual embarrassment. His was so
great that it is surprising that I did not divine im-
mediately what was passing in his mind. In respect
to my feelings he was much more enlightened it
was very easy for him to read my concern in my
eyes. We still maintained a profound silence when
My Lord Arlington 1 & Monsieur d'Opdam 2 entered
& their presence effectually prevented my entering
into any explanation with My Lord Russell.
1 Henry Benet, b. 1618, d. July 28, 1685, created Baron Arlington
March 14, 1665, Viscount Thetford and Earl of Arlington April 22,
1672.
2 Jacob van Wassenaer, Earl of Wassenaer and Lord of Opdam,
b. 1635, d. I 7 I 4- Son of Jacob, Baron van Wasscnaer (1610-65), the
famous Admiral Opdam. Mynheer Opdam was a Knight of the Danish
Royal Order of the Elephant, Master of the Horse to the States General,
and Second Veneur to the States of Holland and West Friesland. He
was also Governor of s'Hertogenbosch, which would account for his
being included in the Anglo-Dutch party, s'Hertogenbosch being the
frontier town whence the envoys passed into the Spanish Netherlands
(Belgium). Btographisch Nordenbocb der Naderlanden, vol. xx, and
the Biografhie Universelle*
166
CHAPTER XXII
AFTER visiting the army of the King of
France, as I have already told you, we
proceeded to Brussels. On the evening
of our arrival the Comte de Monterey *
Governor of the (Spanish) Low Countries gave in the
house of Charles V. which is in the middle of the
park a grand ladies' fete to which we were invited.
The night being very hot they attached lanthorns
to several of the great trees and danced in the alleys.
The most beautiful persons of this little Court came
masked & it is certain that there were many there
who would be advantageously distinguished in the
greatest Cities of Europe. Without including the
Princesse de Vaudemont, 2 whose exalted rank kept
1 Don Jean Dominique de Haro and Guzman, Grand Commander of
Castile, of the Fleece, and of San lago, Gentleman of the Chamber to
Charles II. (of Spain), Councillor of State for War, sometime Vice Roy
of Catalonia, Governor of the Low Countries and President of the
Council in Flanders, was the second son of Don Louis Mendez de Haro,
Satomayer and Guzman de la Paz, Marquis del Carpio, nephew, and heir
in his hereditary titles, of Caspar, Conte-Duc de Olivarez, the famous
Prime Minister to Philip IV. Don Jean Dominique married Dona
Agnes Franchise de Zuniga and Fonseca, heiress of the fifteenth Comte
of Monterey, and became by right of his wife sixteenth Comte of
Monterey d'Avala and de Funentes, Marquis of Taragona, Baron de
Maldeghen. After her death he embraced the religious life.
2 Anne, b. 1639, d. February 19, 1720, only daughter of Charles III.
Duke of Lorraine and Barr and his bigamously married wife, Beatrix of
Cussance, widow of Eugene Leopold Prince of Cantacrovia. She married
October 7, 1660, the Prince de 1'Islebonne (b. 1624 ?, d. 1694). About
1657 there was talk of a match between her and James Duke of York.
167
MEMOIRS OF THE
her apart from the rest of her sex, I remarked with
pleasure Mesdames de Bournonville, 1 de Lignes, 2 de
Raches 3 , d'Hauray, 4 d'Espinola, 6 de Home, 8 de
Stinus, 7 d'Ursel 8 and de Grimbergue. 9 This last
had a budding beauty so delicate, so flowerlike, she had
such a lovely colour, & such a joyous manner, that I was
ravished.
" The Princesse de Vaudemont was dressed as Diana
& those who accompanied her as the latter 's nymphs.
The Comtesse de Grimbergue was one of them, her
beautiful blond hair fell in curls over her shoulders
save one or two which were caught up negligently
with knots of diamonds & emeralds ; she wore a bow
at her waist & had some arrows in a Quiver, her legs
being covered only by a buskin were half nude, and
although she was not tall she was so well proportioned,
and danced with such exquisite grace, that, to confess
the truth I remained confused, dreamy, & upset all
the evening ! I approached her with such a fear as
1 Ernestine d'Arenberg, daughter of the Duke of Areshot, b. 1630,
m. i656Hyppolite Alexandre (b. 1610, d. ?), created Due de Bournon-
ville by Charles II. King of Spain.
2 We have not been able to identify this lady.
3 Probably the wife of Eugene de Berghes who was created Prince de
Rache shortly afterwards.
4 and 5 We have not been able to identify these ladies.
8 There were no less than six Mesdames de Home at the Vice Regal
Court at Brussels at this period !
7 We have not been able to identify this lady.
8 Honorine-Marie Dorothee de Home de Baucignes, b. ?, d. Decem-
ber 5, 1694, m - Francois Schelz, Comte d'Ursel and du St. Empire,
subsequently Due d'Ursel, Grand Veneur and Head Forester to the Vice
Regal Court (b. ?, d. August 10, 1696).
9 Marie Jacqueline, nee de Lang, b. 1656, d. ?, m. 1674 Phillippe
Francois de Glyme (1650-1704), fifth son of Eugene de Glymes, known as
de Berges, Comte de Grimberghe. The marriage is not supposed to
have taken place until 1674, ^ ut no 4 u bt according to the custom of
the seventeenth century the couple were either betrothed in 1672 or
the marriage had taken place but was not consummated.
168
COURT OF ENGLAND
rarely falls to my lot. ' Have you yet found, beautiful
Nymph, a heart worthy of your aim ? ' I asked.
" ' 'Tis sufficient to have found yours,' she replied
with a smile, * I shall not look for a further exercise
of my power.'
" This answer aroused all my interest & I make so
bold as to say that our conversation was not only
brilliant but intellectual. From time to time she
was interrupted by those who came to lead her forth
to dance, but, faithful to the place she had chosen
beside me, she always returned.
" The Ball came to an end and, with it, my hopes,
because on enquiring about the Comtesse I learned
she was espoused to a near relation, that he was of all
men of the world the most finely made ; that they
loved each other passionately ; & that the badinage
with which she occasionally amused herself never
went any further. I was not able to stay long enough
in Brussels to attempt to turn into something serious
a game in which she was such an expert. I thought it
more prudent to avoid her than to try to please her
with so small a prospect of success. Nevertheless My
Lord Russell devoted himself to using this passing fancy
to my prejudice. He wrote to Madam Hyde that I
had become enamoured of the Comtesse de Grim-
bergue & that I had given her the portrait of My Lady
Norwich after boasting that it was a personal gift.
And as there was nothing improbable in all this,
Madam Hyde charitably retailed it to her ladyship.
Believing it true, she resented it with all the anger
a woman is capable of who thinks herself abandoned
& betrayed.
" She wrote me this letter : "
169
MEMOIRS OF THE
TWENTY-SIXTH LETTER
You are so ungrateful, you are so worthless, that your
treachery does not cost me a sigh. Jt is no longer a question
of your sentiments or of mine. They are so very far apart
that they can never meet. Would to Heaven I had known you
always as I have done since your change. Such knowledge
would have spared me much weariness. Without dwelling
any further on a matter that only causes me pain, and, in recall-
ing to your mind your disloyalty, should make you blush, I
will content myself with asking you for my portrait & for my
letters, it is the only & the last request I shall ever make & I
promise in return to forget your very name ! !
" There is no sign," observed My Lord Arran,
" that you obeyed her."
" No," replied the Duke, " I do not even know of a
man who would be so disinterested as to show such
favours to a pretty woman."
" Notwithstanding it would be a good trait,"
interrupted My Lord Saint Albans, " & as they give
us such tender marks of their confidence it is not right
to abuse them, but to make a restitution of that which
might easily prove their ruin."
" They would do much better," ungratefully re-
plied the Duke, " not to run the risk of writing any-
thing a piqued Lover might draw an advantage from."
" It is very easy to give that advice," said My Lord
Saint Albans, " but it is difficult to put it into practice
in the course of an intrigue where the heart finds
comfort in writing a thousand pretty things. When
one thinks what it would mean to be always en garde
with a man one loves I 1 If he has known how to find
the secret of making himself master of his Mistress's
heart, should he not also command her confidence ? >!
" Ladies must take their chance," added My Lord
1 This ie evidently an interpolation of Madame d'Aulnoy's own
sentiments.
170
COURT OF ENGLAND
Arran, " & not complain but of themselves & their
imprudence."
" There remains a good deal still to be said on my
subject," said the Duke, " & I avow to you that when
I received this letter I was struck as if by a thunder-
bolt, and without taking the time to achieve the ne-
gotiations with which I was charged, & which up till
then I had very favourably conducted, I cut short
the whole business, and not troubling myself as to the
sequel, I left for London like a fool."
" Another reflection I have to make on this conduct,"
said My Lord Saint Albans, " is : should a Minister
in love be intrusted with important negotiations ? "
" And where will you find one who is not ? " de-
manded the Duke. " Do you imagine that all those
grave Plenipotentiaries, all those Ambassadors with
their stiff haughty airs, are any wiser than others ?
They guard their movements more, but that is only
what their character compels them to do. I am con-
vinced they have engagements as lively and pressing
as the rest. Therefore," he continued, " I did not
cease one moment during my voyage to conjecture
what my Mistress could have to complain of in me,
I could not think of anything save my attentions to
the young Comtesse de Grimbergue. If this were the
reason I swore vengeance on the traitor who had be-
trayed me, but I never then nor indeed until a long
while after, divined that the traitor was My Lord
Russell."
171
CHAPTER XXIII
N arriving in London, instead of alighting
at Whitehall, I went direct to My Lady
Norwich, and my despair was completed
when I learned that she had gone to
Tunbridge Wells. If I had only consulted my heart
I should have followed her but when I reflected that
she had already caused me to commit many extrava-
gances I restrained myself.
" Upon my appearance before the King, when
he made me render him an account of my negotia-
tions, I swear to you I was so distracted that his
Majesty thought my debaucheries on board the yacht
had been so great that the fumes of the wine had
deprived me of my memory. He soon dismissed me,
& though I quite realised what he thought, I did not
trouble myself to undeceive him. Going home I
shut myself up in my Closet & passed the entire night
in writing, now Verse now Prose, but always voicing
regret, for I was infinitely wounded by the unjust
proceedings of my Mistress.
" As nothing that I wrote appeared sufficiently
eloquent I decided it would be better to go & find her,
& knowing her to be both so reserved & high-spirited,
that she would, if she pleased, decline either to see
me or listen to me, I decided to disguise myself.
" The rest of the night I passed in meditating the
best way to do this.
" Finally, I hit on a plan that appeared to be little
172
COURT OF ENGLAND
short of marvellous. I had noticed during our inter-
course how very superstitious she was, and try how she
might nothing could cure her of this ; she could not
forbear from confessing that she carefully sought out
all those who had any reputation with regard to
astrology ; I afterwards conducted Gadbury 1 the
astrologer to her a hundred times.
" My first move was to appear before the King
in a most sorry state, &, to indicate I was ill, I re-
peatedly laid my hand on my brow or clapped it
swiftly to my breast. When he saw this he asked,
with his usual kindness, what was the matter with me ;
whereupon I explained that I had excruciating pains
in my head, in addition to repeated attacks of palpita-
tion of the heart ; also, that I was suffering from a
continual fever. Unfortunately my face more honest
than my voice belied my words, for when the King
looked sympathisingly at me I could not control my-
self, & became red and confused at the lie. After
this first failure I engaged with Dr. Fraizer 2 to be in
the audience chamber upon the next occasion upon
which the King inquired after my health. This he
did, &, coming forward as we had arranged, suggested
that only the waters of Tunbridge could avert a grave
and dangerous illness.
1 John Gadbury, b. at Wheatley, Oxon, December 31, 1627,
buried March 20, 1704, in the vault of St. Margaret's, Westminster.
2 Sir Alexander Fraizer, b. in Scotland about 1610, graduated as
M.D. at Montpelier, October i, 1635, anc * incorporated at Cambridge
November 1641. lie accompanied the King abroad, his name con-
tinually appears in the records of that unhappy decade. After the
Restoration he was the fashionable physician, attending the Royal
family, and most of the nobility. He died May 3, 1 68 1. Dictionary
of National Biography.
His daughter was Maid of Honour to the Queen, and, according to
The' Court of Charles II. by H. Forneron, 1897, intrigued, unsuccessfully,
for the honour of becoming mistress of the King. Pepys brings very
unsavoury charges against Sir Alexander.
173
MEMOIRS OF THE
" c Go there at once,' the King said. * However
necessary you may be to me I will not put my interests
before your health.' I avow I was so touched by the
manner in which he spoke, that an hundred impulses
moved me to tell him that it was all no more than a
pretence, but I could not reconcile myself to spoil
all my chances by such an avowal.
" I left the King with great contentment at his
consent to my journey. I chose my friend My Lord
Argyle 1 as a confidant. He had been deputed by the
Scottish Parliament to make a humble remonstrance
to the King on certain important matters. 2 My
countenance was not without its value, &, as he had
made great overtures of friendship towards me, I was
quite certain he would welcome with joy any oppor-
tunity of pleasing me. I confided my secret to him,
& he expressed himself as delighted to be given a
means to oblige me. It was arranged that he should
proceed to Tunbridge first, & that on his arrival he
should wait on My Lady Norwich & speak of a certain
Astrologer really myself in such a manner as to
inspire her with a desire to see me.
" My Lord Argyle is, as you know, a versatile man,
hiding under his cold & serious air, a character inclined
to pleasantry, which makes him very agreeable ;
1 Archibald Campbell, ninth Earl of Argyle ; b. 1629, restored to
the family estates forfeited by his father 1663, beheaded June 30,
1685.
2 We have received the following from the Rev. John Wilcock, D.D., of
Lerwick, whose opinion as biographer of the ninth Earl of Argyle is
valuable. He writes that he does not think Lord Argyle went to London
with the deputation, and that Mme. d'Aulnoy " evidently reasoned
from their close political connection in their later days, that they had
been friends and associates at an earlier period. This is a mistake . . ."
In view of Mme. d'Aulnoy's amazing accuracy in fact if not in
date, we are strongly of opinion that she had evidence as to this
assertion though we must confess to being unsuccessful in finding
corroboration.
174
COURT OF ENGLAND
altogether I could not have placed this affair in better
hands.
" He found her ladyship melancholy & dreamy,
the presence of her husband which compelled her to
be very circumspect was the greatest inconvenience,
& when she reflected that I had preferred the Comtesse
de Grimbergue to her it wounded her to such a degree
that she brooded continually on vengeance, & nourished
against me a secret anger that unceasingly tormented
her.
" This was her state of mind when My Lord Argyle
arrived and asked her if she had heard of the famous
Laponida.
" She replied that she did not know what he was
talking about, & would be obliged if he would explain
if it were a man, an animal, or a plant.
" His lordship laughingly ridiculed her ignorance,
and then explained that Laponida was a Laplander
(Lapon) infinitely skilled in astrology & with some know-
ledge of sorcery. He added that he had just received
news that this illustrious Necromancer, whom he had
expressly engaged to come to Tunbridge & cast his
Horoscope for he had as complete a knowledge of
the future as he had of the past & the present had
already left London.
" My Lady Norwich was delighted. She asked
a thousand questions. Did the Laplander speak
English ? Could she see him easily ? What was
he like ? Did his discretion equal his wisdom ?
" My lord, in reply, said that he was acquainted
with the English Language, but his moods were very
capricious, he spoke little, he avoided all women,
& he was two hundred years old.
" At this My Mistress cried out aloud. * Two
hundred years old ! But it is not possible ! '
" ' Pardon me,' said my lord coldly, * he is at least
MEMOIRS OF THE
two hundred years old, but his learning is a great aid
in prolonging his life ; he is able to divine the virtue
of all simples, with these he rejuvenates himself. He
is so old,' he continued, c that he predicted to Queen
Elizabeth all the misfortunes with regard to the Earl
of Essex, to whom, as you will remember, she was so
very partial.'
" * Ha ! ' said she, ' & could he not at the same time
have shown how these troubles might be avoided ? '
" * That would not do,' was the reply, ' destiny
must be accomplished.'
" * What then,' she demanded, ' is the use of knowing
of these mischances if you cannot remedy them ? '
" ' Knowledge and guidance is valuable at any time,'
he replied.
" She made no comment but fell into a profound
melancholy & so he left her.
" Two days later in the attire of a genuine Sorcerer
I arrived. I did not dare quit my room for fear
the little children would run after me and I was
not at all prepared at this stage to make the Comedy
public.
" My Lord Argyle paid another visit to Lady
Norwich. He made no allusion to me, but it was not
long before she herself asked him if he had received
news of Laponida.
" My lord said, in reply, that the Sorcerer had arrived
and was in excellent health ; he had arranged they
should lodge together ; & he seemed even more
than ordinarily marvellous.
" ' I may confess to you in confidence,' she said, * I
have a great desire to interview him ! '
" ' Oh Madam, such a thing is impossible ! ' cried
he. ' Why he told me it is more than an hundred and
forty years since he has spoken with a woman, for
he hates them as he hates death.'
ARCHIBALD, 9TH EARL OF ARGYLE
From a miniature by Thomas Flatman (1637-1688), at Windsor Castle
reproduced in "A Scots Earl in Coz>enanting Times" by kind per-
mission of Dr. U'illcock
COURT OF ENGLAND
" ' You must try and reconcile him to my sex,' she
said.
" ' I think it would be easier to confound him,' said
my lord, ' than to persuade him to do what you
wish ! Still as I have so great a desire to please you
that there is nothing I would not do for your satis-
faction, I will make an effort and report to you to-
morrow.'
" All the moments that I postponed seeing my
Mistress seemed to me as years. Lord Argyle and I
arranged that he should bring her to my room, when
we would have everything closed up for fear that she
should recognise me, for which reason also I decided
to put something in my mouth to alter the tone of my
voice.
ce
I passed an agitated night between the hope of
seeing her, the fear of making her angry, and the doubt
as to the success of my project. And sure enough
another obstacle arrived : her Husband refused to
allow her to visit the lodging of My Lord Argyle. He
worked himself up into a terrible state about his rank ;
he said that all the Laplanders together with Laponida
at their head did not merit that the Wife of a Howard
should so condescend. There was nothing for it but to
find a modification of our plan, & it was eventually
arranged that the interview should take place in a little
Wood to which My Lord Argyle would conduct me ;
whilst on his side, My Lord Norwich would escort his
wife ; for with a man two hundred years old he was
exempt from jealousy.
" All being arranged I awaited the night with im-
patience hardly to be endured, & as soon as it was
sufficiently dark to conceal me, for I did not omit to
have a long white beard, a turban, & everything I
thought necessary for my masquerade, we set out.
By chance we found a tree with a hollow trunk, & to
M 177
MEMOIRS OF THE
sustain my character I crept into this, for, as I have
already said, I studied everything. Scarcely was I
settled when we heard the carriage approach. My
Lord Argyle went forward but he found Lady
Norwich's Husband had already assisted her to alight,
after which he gave her his hand, & they advanced
silently.
" ' I should not have thought,' said My Lord
Argyle, c even if one were about to consult an Astro-
loger, it was necessary to ignore one's friends.'
" The Lady making no reply advanced immediately
towards me whilst the two men withdrew. She sat
down on the moss at the foot of my tree & I found
myself so overcome that I had a difficulty in sufficiently
commanding myself to ask her upon what affair she
wished to consult me.
" ' Do you not know without my telling you, oh
man all divine ? ' she demanded. * Should you who
are already instructed about my thoughts ask me
questions ? '
" ' Very well Madam,' I replied. c I will expound
them. Your heart was engaged in an agreeable
passion, & you have conceived a most undeserved
anger for one who adores you ; you have written very
cruelly to him ; you fly his approach, and you would
never have come to this town but to avoid him. Is
not that true ? "
" * Aye,' she said, ' I agree so far. Now draw me a
portrait of my Cavalier.'
" ' He is tall & of good appearance,' said I, 'his air
is noble, & his manner engaging, he stands high in
the favour of his Master ; I assure you Madam, that
all my wisdom is false if you do not possess his entire
heart -'
" I had got so far when the Lady burst into loud
laughter. * Oh impostor ! ' she cried, ' thou art
COURT OF ENGLAND
most strangely the dupe of an adventure that thou
canst not have brought about without considerable
trouble. Learn that it is not My Lady Norwich
with whom you speak, but the Duchess of Richmond,
that she is going this very moment to make thee
known for what thou art ! ' "
179
CHAPTER XXIV
"W" T is easy to imagine my amazement, but this
contretemps did not seem so cruel as if it had
been caused by anyone else.
JL. " ( My dear sister,' I said, stopping her
despite herself, & at the same time abandoning the
disguise of my voice, ' I conjure you to be careful not
to betray my secret, but rather to help me in this
affair. You can judge by the steps I have taken how
much my heart is engaged ! '
" The Duchess of Richmond tenderly embraced
me. ' You are a true Proteus,' she said, ' and are very
wise to reveal yourself ; or I should have spoilt
everything.'
" She then told me in a few words, that wearied by
the importunities of different people to try the waters,
she had suddenly made up her mind to do so, & had
arrived at the House of My Mistress * but an hour
before the time at which the latter was setting out to
meet me ; that what they told her of this Laplander
roused her keen suspicions that some knavery was afoot,
hidden under the unlikely age and supernatural skill ; &
that she offered to prove this by passing herself off as My
Lady Norwich. Finally, she added my wisdom must
be entirely counterfeit to be so easily exposed.
1 Lord Norwich was her nephew by marriage, and as at the time
these legal relationships were esteemed at a value that to-day exists
only among the illiterate the Duchess looked on Lady Norwich exactly
as though she were her niece.
1 80
COURT OF ENGLAND
" I quite agreed that I was a novice in the art of
sorcery. I then prayed her to return to the others &
say she had seen many marvels. This she did not fail
to do. No one knew better how to exert herself than
she, & she so played on My Lady Norwich's imagina-
tion that far from this adventure prejudicing me, it
did me a lot of good. Indeed, without it all would
have been ruined, for My Lord Argyle found My
Mistress in the Carriage at the very moment she should
have been with me ; & never doubting but what I
should say something very mal apropos was about to
hurry back & warn me when she told him that the
Lady with me was the Duchess of Richmond. Though
he concluded I should recognise her, he continued
very uneasy & impatient until she returned, crying
aloud, c Oh the gifted man ! Oh the marvellous
mortal ! What hath he not told me ? How clever
he is ! I cannot keep silent about it ! ' She would
have continued these exclamations if My Lady Nor-
wich, impatient to see me, had not left her. She
came hurriedly till she reached my tree. I was still
troubled, & feared some further trick, I wished to
assure myself to whom 1 spoke before expounding my
science.
Hardly, however, had she placed herself before me
than she addressed me and I recognised her.
" ' Divine Laponida,' she said, ' if you can penetrate
by your Wisdom what is passing in my heart, & teach
me the means whereby it may be consoled there is
nothing I will not in my gratitude promise you.'
" ' I am not at all interested Madam,' I said, taking
her hand, ' & it is foolish, when engaging me to aid in
your affairs, to promise me rewards for which I have
no desire, all I want of you is your confidence '
" ' Ha, how can I refuse you,' she interrupted,
You who can divine everything, & who know too well,
MEMOIRS OF THE
and despite my wishes, all that upon which I would
be silent.'
" ' Here is a very fair reason/ I observed, ' you have
so much intellect that I am no longer surprised at the
favour the stars throw toward you. Venus in con-
junction with the Sun gives you at once prudence &
beauty, Jupiter following with Mars ' *
" ' Speak to me in intelligible language,' said she,
' that I may know why a man in whom I am interested
has ceased to love me.'
" ' You most cruelly misdoubt him,' I cried, * he
loves you always, & hath never loved another ; even
now he languishes & expires of despair when brooding
on the aversion you have for him.'
" * If you are so clever in thus penetrating his
sentiments,' she said, ' I am surprised that you read
for mine those so much opposed to the true state of
affairs. It is certain that in a voyage he recently made,
the traitor sacrificed my portrait to a woman by whom
he knew he was not nearly so much loved as he was by
me!'
" I assure you," said the Duke in an aside, " that I
experienced during this conversation that exquisite
delight of which one is only capable in a tender &
genuine passion ; for, as My Mistress believed me to
be a real Laplander, a man who had not the least
interest in the affair, & one to whom it was all the same
whether she loved or hated this lover, I was enabled to
read her very heart, to read in it that I was still dear
to her, a hope which up till then I had hardly dared
to flatter myself with. Having a great desire to know
who was the charitable person who had rendered me
so many good offices with her I told her she must trust
me further, and I prayed her to tell me by what means she
had learned that her lover had been unfaithful to her.
1 How was Laponida supposed to know the date of her birth ?
182
COURT OF ENGLAND
" c I knew it through one of my friends,' she replied,
' who learned it from the letter of a man of quality.'
" ' That I may draw a fair deduction you must
describe him,' I told her. By the description she gave
me, and the suspicion that I had already entertained,
I had no difficulty in identifying Madam Hyde & My
Lord Russell, I said to her :
" ' My Art aids me to know that these persons of
whom you speak are not to be trusted, & it is their
desire to cause you pain.'
" * Alas,' she said sweetly, c if it has been their aim
to pain me they have but too well succeeded. I assure
you I have hardly slept since the unhappy day when
the lady tendered me the ill news.'
" ' Your displeasure is more the outcome of wounded
vanity than of tenderness,' I observed. * You are
angry at the preference your Cavalier displayed for
another.'
"<I hope,' she replied, c that I am animated by
better motives than that ; were such the case I
perhaps have ample opportunities for consoling piyself
for my mistake. Alas the more I examine my heart
the more fully do I realise the true state of my feelings
for one alone.'
" I could no longer," the Duke explained to his
friends, " hold out against a belief which assured me so
much happiness. Rushing forth from my hollow tree
I flung myself at her feet & embraced her knees.
* Recognise Madam,' I cried, * a man who of all the
world is the most faithful and the most tender, & who
would expire of shame at this very moment had he
ceased for a single instant to love you more than life.
Behold your portrait which should enlighten you as to
the knavery which has been practised against you. In
the name of our love, in the name of the most fervent
devotion that ever was, let him return to your good
MEMOIRS OF THE
graces, without which all life is worthless.' I would
have added a thousand further and tender affectionate
endearments, for I was so charged with joy & love &
thankfulness but, can you without being Laplanders
yourselves, believe what this capricious woman replied
to my moving phrases ?
" ' So My Lord Duke it is you, who in a premeditated
disguise, design to discover my secrets,' she cried. ' It
is you who when I desire to consult the Divine, think
yourself well justified in swearing they have told me
falsehoods ? You are mistaken, my lord, in attempting
to justify a conduct so utterly opposed to your duty
towards me. I have been compelled to suffer without
a murmur and without complaint. You should have
waited until, of my goodness, I recalled you from
banishment, but instead you have had the imprudence
to take a confidant ! However honest a man My
Lord Argyle may be, I am more than angry he should
be cognisant of my private affairs. Again, you must
have revealed yourself to the Duchess of Richmond,
in fact have exposed me all round to the greatest perils,
for it is certain should my Husband learn of what has
happened he would confound my innocence with your
malice, though I alone should be sacrificed to his
resentment. All these things make you appear to my
eyes completely unworthy of my troubling about you.
You deceive me, you put me in the wrong, you are so
utterly callous, as to endanger my life ! '
" Whilst she made this beautiful discourse, so logical
& so nicely balanced, I was confounded, but only for a
moment.
" ' Is it possible ? ' I asked her, " is it possible that
the same mouth can utter sentiments so opposed in so
short a space of time ? Is this the same Woman who
sighed with Laponida at having lost the Duke of
Buckingham, & who nevertheless treats that same
184
JANE, COUNTESS OF NORWICH
From a mezzotint by Collin after Lely
COURT OF ENGLAND
Duke of Buckingham like a criminal the moment she
beholds him at her feet.'
66 I confess that at the moment such a bitter anger
usurped my love & such a tumult was raging in my
heart that I could not say another word. On her side
she refused to make answer and I suddenly arrived at
the conclusion which she did not look for. I no longer
attempted to soften her with new submission ; ' I have
done with you,' I said. ' Done with you for ever, you
fickle and ridiculous creature, you will hear neither
good nor bad of me in the future. All I regret is the
trouble I have taken to see you. I am going ! My
speed will be the greater because it puts a distance
between us,' saying which I strode away.
" I think she followed me, I fancied I heard a faint
6 Laponida, Laponida ! ' & then no more ; but my rage
was too intense to permit me to respond."
CHAPTER XXV
" -W- ADY NORWICH had hardly returned to
where the Duchess of Richmond, My Lord
Arygle, My Lord her husband awaited her,
M 4 when My Lord Argyle came to my tree in
search of me. It was empty, & as the night was dark
he feared I was lost in the Wood. Meanwhile for
nearly two hours I lay at the bottom of our Carriage
fuming because he kept me so long, & when at last he
found me he tried to remonstrate because I had caused
him so much anxiety ; but I was in no humour to
permit it, & as I took a tone three times as peremptory
as his, he preferred to be silent even though he might
consider me in the wrong.
" Our passage of words at an end I asked him what
was his opinion about my long interview with my
inamorata.
" c Everything that could be desired,' he replied.
6 To be all alone, in a Wood, in company with a Lady
one loves, & by whom one is loved, during the
blissful moments that succeed a reconciliation, both of
you amorous & with a perfect understanding between
you, to know, in addition, that the jealous husband is,
the while, in sweet ignorance, acting as sentinel
himself. . . that is how it appears to me.'
" ' Appearances are deceitful,' I said with a sigh.
* You concluded, because it should have been so, that
I was making my peace, but in reality I had to do with
a capricieuse who received me so badly that I have
broken with her for ever ! '
186
COURT OF ENGLAND
" At first My Lord Argyle would hardly believe me,
but I seriously repeated it, pointing out that the
situation was not so pleasant that I should invent it.
" * I avow I am greatly astonished,' he exclaimed,
' your worth should surely have protected you from
such treatment.'
" * I will be fair and admit I have faults that are
perhaps ingrained, but I do not know of any that are
an excuse in regard to this business.'
" * Do you know a certain means to avenge your-
self ? ' interrupted he.
" ' Ay,' I replied. < To forget her.'
" c That is just what I was going to counsel,' con-
tinued he, * but you are keen enough to guess it.'
" ' At least,' I said bitterly, * if the Astrologer's
disguise hath not served me to renew my intrigue, it
hath helped to break it ! '
" * On the other hand,' he continued, ' if you still
mean to go forward I should advise you to see the
Duchess of Richmond, she lodges with My Lady
Norwich ; you can obtain an interview through the
former, matters can be explained perhaps mended '
" * Heaven preserve me from it ! ' I cried. c I am
going to leave here the first thing in the morning.'
" He acquiesced at once. ' You are the Master,'
he agreed ; and then : ' But what will the King say at
such a hasty return ? '
" c I must find a plausible reason,' I said. ' At the
worst he will attribute it to gallantry.'
" ' It appears to me,' remarked my lord, * it would
be better for you to go to one of your Country Houses
& remain there a fortnight without letting anyone at
Court know of it.'
" ' Very good,' I said, ' provided always that you
will come with me & share my bad temper & my
solitude, we will go to Clievedon.'
MEMOIRS OF THE
" He agreed most obligingly & this gave me some
contentment. To tear from my heart the too vivid
memory of the lady possessing it I required a good
conversationalist, otherwise my situation, the victim of
passion and of great troubles, with no one in whom to
confide, would be insupportable.
" As soon as we were back in Tunbridge I threw
myself upon my bed completely broken down with
grief.
" I remained there but a short time when I
heard cries of : c Fire ! Fire ! ' Anxiously wondering
whether this was at the lodging of My Lady Norwich,
for the house at which she lay was not far distant from
mine, I got up & went to the window. Calling to
some men who were hurrying by, I asked where the
fire was.
" The day had sufficiently dawned for me to be able
to distinguish objects clearly, and hardly had these
men caught sight of me than they burst into roars of
laughter again & again, nor would they make me any
reply. This appeared to me very strange, for I com-
pletely forgot the ridiculous habit that I still wore, &
I was working myself up into a great fury when My
Lord Argyle rushed into the Room.
" ' You are strangely tranquil,' said he, c for a man
with a fire raging but just beyond his door/
" * What ! Is the fire in this house ? ' I cried.
" c So much so,' answered he, * that we must
descend from this window or get burned going down
the stairs.'
"At this point they brought a ladder, & my lord
more diligent than I, descending first, ran off to give
the orders that our Horses should be taken out of the
Stable, where they were choking. I thought on my
part it was only a question of using the ladder as he
had done,jbut the Servants of the hostel, having given
188
COURT OF ENGLAND
out that I was a famous sorcerer, the ladder was seized
& taken away so as to oblige me to make some mani-
festation of my powers in saving myself, such as flying
in the air like a bird. When some of those below
would have returned the ladder others prevented them,
saying, with mistaken zeal, that it would be better to
let me burn, for no doubt I well merited such a fate.
I assure you that you never saw a man more hampered
than I. The smoke in my Room grew so thick as to
interfere with my breathing to such a degree that I
could not cry aloud. I was at my wit's end, when
suddenly the thought came into my mind that it was
the white beard and the rest of my masquerade which
convinced these saucy varlets that I was a Magician.
I tore it all off, I ordered them to bring a ladder for
the Duke of Buckingham, & recognising me then
they obeyed, & I descended. My cough was so
suffocating that I had hardly begun to breathe the
pure air than I was seized with a great oppression, &
through sheer feebleness fell to the ground. They ran
& told My Lord Argyle who immediately came &
supported me to the edge of a brook, there I threw
myself on the grass leaning up against a tree.
" ' How sorry I am still to be here,' I said. ' Pray
you give the necessary orders for us to leave imme-
diately.'
" c Are you not afraid the motion of the carriage
will make you feel bad ? ' he asked.
" ' I fear much more,' I replied, ' that some mis-
chance will bring me face to face with that woman, &
after all that I have to complain of I will never never
pardon her '
" He began to laugh. ' That means,' he said, ' that
to see her & to pardon her would be the same thing.'
" ' That means,' I replied, ' that I feel in regard to
her such a weakness that I prefer to avoid her, to
MEMOIRS OF THE
fighting the influence of her presence.' Is it not true,
my lords," he continued, interrupting himself, " that
you both expect to hear that Lady Norwich arrived
under those trees, & that attracted by the freshness of
the dawn, & the murmur of the waters, & followed
only by her confidante she came to heave a few sighs
& whisper a few words punctuated with sobs, & at last
to complain of my hastiness, of my harshness ; whilst
I remained well hidden from her sight until the
moment I started forward to fall at her feet, to
embrace her knees, to make my peace ? Were I telling
you a fable instead of the simple truth it is certain
that nothing would be wanting to present this pretty
tableau, but as real events do not so orderly arrange
themselves, I avow to you that she did not appear, &
I avow, by the same good faith, I should have been
ravished if soul-sympathy with my love, had brought
her to me.
"As it was I left for Clievedon 1 with My Lord
Argyle. I received from him, in my trouble, every
assistance it was possible for him to render ; He
listened with complaisance to all my murmurs, replying
with a thousand goodnesses But a propos de com-
plaisance" said the Duke breaking off, " I perceive,
somewhat late, that I am abusing yours. It is broad
day ! I cannot understand what possessed me to talk
so long ! "
" A charming ' possession,' " said My Lord Saint
Albans " I pray you My Lord Duke, do not repent
of having entertained us all these hours, nor leave us
without our knowing the result of your adventures."
" It would perhaps be better that he should take a
little repose, & that we should do the same, in order
to be in a better state to give him our full attention,"
suggested My Lord Arran.
1 Clievedon. Mr. W. W. Astor now has the house.
190
COURT OF ENGLAND
My Lord Saint Albans whose house was one of the
finest in London fell in with this proposition & a
grand breakfast was shortly served, then the Duke of
Buckingham & his nephew were each conducted to a
magnificent apartment, from which they did not
emerge to rejoin My Lord Saint Albans until the
evening. A noble banquet awaited them, but when
one is in anger or amorous of one's Mistress, one does
not eat much, & thus it was that Messieurs Buckingham
& Arran soon finished their repast. 1
Presently the Duke perceiving that his two friends
were silent & expectant, resumed his discourse.
1 This passage might have been lifted bodily from the Arabian
Nights.
191
CHAPTER XXVI
" "m M~ Y Lord Argyle," continued the Duke of
^^L /I Buckingham, "discoursed on my in-
^y terests much better than I could have
-A. * JL done myself. I was too full of my
passion and of my disgust to be much concerned
about the duties of a Courtier, and I remembered
Whitehall as little as if I had never been there.
" My indifference surprised him. ' Is it possible,
Duke of Buckingham,' said he to me, c that you have
no intention of giving the King an account of your
stay at Clievedon ? '
" * Surely it is the same to him, if I be here or at
Tunbridge ? '
" ' Not when one is loved as much as you are,'
he objected. 'The King has interested himself in
your health and you ought to let him know that
the air of your home is of more benefit than the
waters.'
" ' But,' said I, ' why explain that now ? The
King thinks I am at Tunbridge. It will be time
enough when I arrive at the Court to explain that I
come from Clievedon.'
" ' Surely you forget,' he exclaimed, c that the
Court will ask news of you of all who come from the
waters ? What astonishment will be created by the
reply that none have seen you.'
" ( It will be presumed that I have preferred to
remain in retirement.'
192
COURT OF ENGLAND
" * But,' he urged, ' all meet at the fountains ;
they may not speak, but they see each other.'
" * Have I not already been seen ? ' I demanded.
4 At the time when I thought to be cooked in that
cursed chamber where you left me.'
" c But those who saw you there were of so humble
a condition that few would believe any news they
gave of you.'
" ' Nor by me either,' cried I quite angrily. c I
entreat quarter of you, my lord.'
" Far from being displeased at my violence he
found it so amusing that he burst out laughing. ' I
hope you will not take ill of it,' he said, ' but I have
written to the Duke of Monmouth asking him if it is
known where 7 am.'
" * I should not take anything that you might do
ill,' I said, adopting a lighter manner. c But I ask
one favour, and that is you will not tell me a single
word of what he may say.'
" ' You will lose more by that than I shall,' was
the smiling reply. ' Supposing he writes to me of
interesting things that you would like to know, and that
might withdraw you from these capricious humours in
which you are pleased to envelop yourself ? '
" ' Never mind that,' said I, ' my misanthropic
manners please me well. It would grieve me to adopt
others. It is my desire with the exception of your-
self to hate all the world ! '
" ' Ha ! my lord,' said he, c such an exception is
too great an honour ! I am most sensible of it ! But
it is impossible that you should hold a resolution that
will draw you from that intercourse with all honest
men that love you.'
" ' Such a resolution will separate me from but a
few people,' said I. c We live in a time when it is
sufficient to be a good actor ; people do not stop to
N 193
MEMOIRS OF THE
consider the tendency of the heart, and he who puts
love and good faith into his dealings invariably finds
himself duped.'
" My lord, whose opinions were quite the opposite
to mine, contradicted me with much wit ; and this
initial conversation was the cause of our having many
lively disputes upon the subject."
" My grief did not diminish. I cursed myself for
having by my hastiness seconded the waywardness of
My Mistress. I had merited, I told myself, all that
she said to me that night in the wood before she had
mastered her rage. I had only gone to Tunbridge
to pacify her, and my frivolity of heart had rendered
the journey useless.
" I often wrote to her ; but my letters were by no
means uniformly tender and submissive ; for sometimes
I felt that I was far more wronged than she was ;
and as it came about that I was never content with
what I wrote all my letters remained in my Closet.
"At last I concluded that to cure my passion it
was necessary to find an amusement that would prove
some sort of distraction for my mind ; for, as I
said to My Lord Argyle I had no other means to
deliver me from those fatal chains.
" 'Ever since I have borne them I have not enjoyed
one single tranquil day ; she is much too eager to
order all my actions ; besides it is sufficient for me
to tell her that I love her for her to acquire a perfect
conceit in her own mind. Without reason she doubts ;
without listening she condemns me ! No, I will not
love her any more.
"'And,' I continued, pulling myself together, 'as
I should be in precisely the same danger with any
other, in that her power over my heart would give
her the desire to tyrannise, it will be better for me to
love nothing, to live and die in happy indifference.'
194
COURT OF ENGLAND
" * Ah my lord,' cried he, ' that is a thing which after
the sweetnesses you tasted in your attachment to
My Lady Shrewsbury ought to be more impossible
for you than for any other ! You cannot help loving.'
" ( It is true,' said I, and I sighed over the tender
thoughts that one name ever awakens in my mind.
' It is true that I have been the happiest of all lovers ;
and it is not the less true that after having experienced
such happinesses I can only promise myself bitterness
in a new passion. Hath not My Lady Norwich
punished me sufficiently for having been capable of
loving another besides Lady Shrewsbury ? '
" ' It would afford me great pleasure,' said My Lord
Argyle, 'if you would give me all particulars of that
affair.'
" ' Truly ? But it is a wound that I cannot touch
without suffering the greatest pain. Nevertheless
I do not refuse to tell you about it ; but it must be
some other time when I am in a more tranquil state.'
" My Lord, whose one aim was to distract me agree-
ably, made no effort to press me to do anything for
which I showed the least repugnance ; his desire
was, in the most obliging manner in the world, to
accommodate himself to all my caprices.
" It happened one day when I was walking by the
River, I observed him at a distance sitting on a little
eminence reading a letter with great attention. I
advanced softly so that he did not hear me, until I
was nearly before him. When he became aware of
my presence he folded up the letter and put it in his
pocket without making any comment to me. Non-
plussed I spoke first on indifferent things, and then,
all at once, I asked him if he had received any news
from London.
"'Yes,' he said, 'The Duke of Monmouth has
written to me about what is passing at Court.'
195
COURT OF ENGLAND
" ' Are they serious happenings ? '
" * If they were I should have already intimated
them to you, but the letter is only about gallantries
which do not at all harmonise with your situation.'
" This answer awakened my desire to know what
was going on. ' It is true,' I confessed, ' that I have
resolved to keep myself free from that deception of
the heart and mind which poisons the repose of life.
Still, not to hear of them will not help me, and if
you will tell me about your letter it will give me
much pleasure.'
" ' Very good,' said he in handing it to me : ' you
will find some news in it.'
" This is what I read :
You are very wrong in remaining at Clievedon, because
we have here a budding beauty who demands admiration of all
who behold her. The better to arouse your curiosity I will
not tell you who she is, it is sufficient for you to know that all
the world loves her, that My Lord Saint Albans adores her,
that My Lord Ossory sighs for her, and that she has made such
a great harvest of hearts there are none left for the other Ladies !
If you know what pity is prepare yourself to console them and
come. Not that you will be long in a state to pity others
for when once you have seen Dona Maria de Mendosa you
will want all your pity for yourself. Ah what have I done ?
I have named her to you ! Therefore must I go on to say
that the Queen has sent for her from Portugal to come and be
one of her Maids of Honour ; and that there were many who
wished to prevent it.
Adieu my lord, you and the Duke of Buckingham are going
to call me a bad joker.
Here My Lord Saint Albans interrupted the Duke
of Buckingham. " I quite expected," said he, " that
I should have been involved in the affairs of Dona
Maria. At present however I am in a state to hear
it spoken of."
" It being no longer painful to you," replied the
Duke, u I will continue my recital."
196
CHAPTER XXVII
"*W "IT THEN I had read the Duke of Mon-
m ^ / mou th's letter I said to My Lord
^U ^u Argyle : ' Are you the man to become
enamoured of this foreigner ? '
"He regarded me smilingly and repeated in his
turn : ' Are you the man to become enamoured of
this foreigner ? '
" ' I wish I were ! ' I said, ' because it would be a
means of curing me of the passion I have for My
Lady Norwich ! '
" ' As for me,' he observed, ' I have no malady ;
therefore I have no need to endeavour to effect a
cure by a remedy so dangerous. I should be very sorry
to upset myself for any reason ; I far prefer the state
of happy indifference to all the pleasures of love.'
" ' Ha ! my lord, I cannot believe you have such
bad taste ! '
" ' And for me,' he said, still smiling, ' I cannot
believe but that you would wish to share it. Remem-
ber the miseries one suffers even in the happiest of
passions through the caprices of our Mistresses, through
jealousies, through genuine anger. Remember also
how the number of unhappy hours exceed the happy
ones. If one only realised the annoyances to which
one exposes oneself wheji one commences to love,
in a word all the evils that are inseparable from
serious affairs, one would avoid them with more care
than one avoids death ! '
197
MEMOIRS OF THE
" ' What,' I cried, e is it you My Lord of Argyle
who speaks thus and alas ! is the Duke of Buckingham
still weak enough to support the opposite view ?
Can he, ill-treated by My Lady Norwich, repulsed
by a woman so uncertain and capricious, can he still
say : " One does well to love " ? '
" I mused a time.
" * Yes,' I continued, ' I uphold Love ; I am unable
to deny him. A man who is indifferent never
knows real pleasure. Love makes us brave every
evil Fortune ; Love inspires us to the most noble
and exalted sentiments ; Love gives us desire to
excel however difficult our way may be, Love
makes it easy '
" ' I am charmed,' interrupted my friend, ' to listen
to you. It is obvious that your reconciliation with
my lady approaches ; I do not doubt that in a few
days I shall see you once more at her feet softening,
with your tears, all her pride.'
" 6 You will never see that,' I cried, * though it is
true that if this Mendosa is as amiable as the Duke of
Monmouth represents, I avow I should be ravished
to join with her in an agreeable intrigue. The Por-
tuguese have naturally much fire and wit ; they have
a certain vivacity which prevents a lover from falling
into indolence ; one ever discovers in them a new
mood ; it may be joy, it may be anger. Mind,
in its expression, has resources that are practically
inexhaustible. Frankly, the more I think of it the
more am I determined to love the Portuguese.'
* " c But,' said my lord, ' Supposing she has already
listened to the Duke of Monmouth, or My Lord
Saint Albans ? Will you undertake to supersede
them ? Would it not be better to return to your
former chains ? '
" ' My rivals,' I said (with an air somewhat brago),
IQ8
COURT OF ENGLAND
'have hitherto done me the honour to resign their
place to me. All my fear is that they will not be
enough enamoured to make sport for me.'
" ' Here is a fantastic case,' he said. ' You actually
fear the person whom you wish to love has not gained
sufficient influence over the hearts of other lovers ! '
" * If I knew her personally I should not have this
anxiety, because I should be in a position accurately
to estimate her worth and her charms ; as it is I
cannot now credit her as really meriting the devotion
which she commands.'
" ' This rule,' replied my lord, * is far from infallible.
One sometimes contracts such extraordinary attach-
ments that they would be unpardonable if one did
not recall in order to account for them that " Love
is blind." '
" ' At all events,' I said impatiently, ' you will agree
that a girl who pleases every one does not compare
favourably with one who pleases no one.'
" My manner made him laugh. * Very well,' said
he. * And as you are enamoured of her when will
you return to Whitehall and see her ? '
" < To-morrow,' I replied, ' providing always we do
not hear she lacks the beauties I require. Having
been born in Portugal she ought to have wit, perhaps
she hath none ? Added to that I want great black
eyes, so brilliant that one cannot bear their light
without pain ; her teeth must be like pearls, her skin
clear ; she must be plump, and have a tall and erect
figure '
" ' You do not realise what you are asking,' said he,
6 unless you have her made expressly, I am certain
that you will not find in a thousand Portuguese, the
like of what you have painted.'
" ' What ! They have not large eyes ? '
" * Yes, you will find that feature. But as for the
199
MEMOIRS OF THE
teeth of Oriental water, you may look for them a long
time. The Portuguese eat so many suckets, and take
so much chocolata that they spoil their teeth at a
very early date. As for her complexion, it will be
white only so long as you permit her to paint ; other-
wise I guarantee it will be brown. And all that I can
suggest is, that you may find it bright and clear.'
" ' Good,' said I, * I should like her far more in this
manner than whitened artificially. 5
" ' You will find her neither tall nor fat,' he con-
tinued, ' for all the Portuguese are little and thin.'
" ' But,' cried I, ' may not one prove the exception ?
To hear you talk one would think they were all made
in the same mould.'
" He smiled. ' I simply give you my opinion,' he
said. ' If you like we will write and ask for enlighten-
ment, then we shall see which of us has divined the
more accurately.'
" c Truly,' said I laughing in turn, * you are very
audacious ; have you forgotten that I lately acted as
a Sorcerer ? '
" ' I have so little forgotten it,' replied he, * that I
constantly recall it, and never without dying of laugh-
ter. Your disguise was so amusing that had your
heart been less deeply engaged you would enjoy it
equally.'
" I did not omit to write to my Dutch Painter to
give him the order to find an opportunity to paint
Dona Maria de Mendosa and send to me the Portrait,
this letter I showed to My Lord Argyle.
" ' It has been a long established habit,' said he
jokingly, ' to send to Kings and Sovereigns the Portrait
of the Princess they wish to espouse ; but your pro-
ceeding, in asking for the Portrait of a person whom
you have only the desire to love, is indeed audacious.'
200
COURT OF ENGLAND
" * Laugh at me as much as you like,' I said, ' I will
bear it all, so that you write to the Duke of Monmouth,
and ask him to tell you if the lady has an agreeable and
delicate wit ; if she is dignified ; and if she writes
well. Because I avow I shall embark without delay
if the answer he sends you prove satisfactory.'
" ' How can you rely on that ? Ought not the
sentiments you know him to have for her, make you
suspicious of what he tells you ? '
" ' I agree with that,' I replied ; ' but I suggest
that he should be asked to send us some of her letters ;
because a person who writes well should not be
wanting in intellect.'
" ' As there are many who have intellect and who
write badly,' said my friend, ' why will you not allow
that there are those who write well and who are not
intellectual ? '
" ' No,' said I, * that is an impossibility. You may
tell me that there are people who speak well and who
write badly ; that there are those who write well
and who speak badly ; but the one and the other have
an intellectual foundation ; and if only I see a letter
of hers I shall be satisfied.'
" ' Do you think if the Duke of Monmouth has
received any he is going to confide them to us ? '
" ' Whatever should prevent him ! Are we not his
friends ? I am persuaded that it will be a pleasure
to him to convert us to share his admiration.'
" ' Write to him yourself, then,' said my lord.
* Possibly the tediousness of satisfying you may free
him from any scruples he may have thereupon.'
" It was late, and we returned to the house. I
prayed my lord to have supper before writing, but
realising how it would please me if he did otherwise
he at once entered my Closet.
" At the end of some moments he brought me his
201
MEMOIRS OF THE
letters to the Duke of Monmouth, which I at once
dispatched with all the haste I should have employed
had my life been at stake. The next evening he whom
I had sent to London returned.
" My Lord Duke wrote in these terms :
It is only natural that the Duke of Buckingham should
wish to see some of the letters of the beautiful Portuguese.
She writes as well as she speaks ; she speaks better than any
one ! Unfortunately she only writes about indifferent matters,
at least up till now I have not seen anything else, notwith-
standing the desire that I have to make her change her style.
Her eyes have told me more than once that she could admirably
express passion, but so marked is her hesitation to engage
herself in this manner that it is evident she is either afraid of
love, or that she has experienced some sorrow that hitherto
I have not been able to penetrate. I am sending you what
she wrote yesterday at My Lady Ossory's, when Mademoiselle
de Bevrevvel 1 was exhibiting a letter by her Friend Saint-
Evremond. Every one present passed an opinion ; the
letter was praised by connoisseurs and criticised by the ignorant.
These differences of opinion gave rise to a dispute on the art
of writing, in which Dona Maria shone brilliantly. All that
she said pleased me so much that I found myself compelled to
write down a part. 2 This is what I send you : its value you
are far more capable of estimating than I am.
1 Probably Mademoiselle de Beverweert. This lady, Charlotte de
Nassau, daughter of Louis de Nassau, Lord of Beverweert, and sister
of the Countesses of Arlington and Ossory, is mentioned in Saint
Evremond's Works as his friend and correspondent when various
letters of his addressed to her are given.
2 It transpires further on that Dona Maria speaks fluent French
which was used in those days by polite society indiscriminately with the
vernacular. So true is this that the Ambassador of Louis XIV. to the
Court of St. James's found himself little incommoded by knowing no
other language that his native tongue. " Every one spoke French."
See A French Ambassador at the Court of Charles II. ]. J. Jusserand.
1892, p. 14.
See also The Love of an Uncrowned Queen. W. H. Wilkins. 1903,
p. 124. " French . . . the language then generally used at Courts."
" The Chevalier de Grammont . . wanted no interpreter . . , they
202
COURT OF ENGLAND
The Duke of Buckingham then took up a package of
letters. After searching through it for some time,
he found the particular paper & said : " Here is
what we have received and which only serves to vex
me."
all spoke French . . . and they all understood it sufficiently to com-
prehend what he had to say." Memoirs.
203
CHAPTER XXVIII
COUNSELS FOR GOOD WRITING
I
I HOLD that in all kinds of style, and particularly in
those which are called Epistolary, one ought first &
always to consult good sense. If one writes as one
speaks, employing a turn of language that is dignified
& easy, whilst neither pompous nor affected, it carries
weight & pleases infinitely. One should, as much as one can,
avoid repetitions ; nevertheless when such are essential to one's
meaning they should be employed without scruple.
II
Although the Portuguese, the Spaniards & the Italians employ
Metaphors so cleverlythat such go to make the chief of ornament
of their Letters, for my part my taste lying in another
direction I am persuaded that one should not disarrange
either the Sun or the Stars ; even as one should but rarely use
an inflated or pedantic style ; for one cannot describe the
beautiful things of the world in a natural manner without
racking one's mind.
Ill
It is wise to respect the rank that one holds, the rank of the
person to whom one writes, & the subjects upon which the
recipient will hold discourse. In respect of such a letter one
must not stray from its subject proper, more than one is obliged.
Reverting to the first it is well to observe that one should
know how to phrase all the distinctions necessary, as much of
birth as of merit. One should however always show honesty
& integrity that any one may the better estimate by the
expressions used the worth of the writer's heart.
204
COURT OF ENGLAND
IV
When one writes about business matters one should invariably
use concise terms choosing such as do not allow of two meanings
or that might confuse, or be read in a different manner from that
intended.
It is easy to avoid long phrases. The period enunciates
but the parenthesis cuts all the sense of a Letter with the result
that it frequently happens one is obliged to read it over more
than once before one can understand it.
VI
Bombast of what ever kind it be, pompous or common,
should be banished for ever. Such a thing would be easy
to those who do not fly too high because it often happens
that in one's endeavours to raise oneself one gets lost in the
clouds ; a result that is both an annoyance & a disappointment.
One should endeavour to estimate the limit of one's capabilities,
for by this precaution one does not say more than one intends
& it is rare that one says less.
VII
Occasionally one uses such free & delicate expressions
that one creates the desire for more than what one has said.
It is wise not to exhaust one's subject, and this is an Art that
all the world does not easily understand. One thinks of a
thousand interesting things one does not wish to leave out,
but he to whom one writes will consider one has better taste
if one does not make a great bonfire that will go out in a
minute. He will find that Letter the more interesting if
he is amused and can draw some ideas from it. One should
think rather of the satisfaction of the person to whom one
writes than of one's own.
VIII
When one writes a Letter of mere Politeness, one should
endeavour to make it both short and gracious, giving as original
a turn as possible to the Compliments.
205
MEMOIRS OF THE
IX
Letters of Consolation need not be long though they should
Jbe touching and emotional. Enter into the grief, share it
without fuss, and without affecting terms too studied. One
can add certain Christian reflections, but not such as would be
affected by Pedants or Bigots.
X
When the question is that of conferring a favour, one's
correspondent should be reassured in a manner both prompt
& generous. A kindness only accorded after a long delay
loses much of its value so it behoves one to be diligent in
writing.
XI
Should one be compelled to refuse something it is as well to
soften the denial with all the civility possible ; one should also
give a kindly hope for the future, as this may help to alleviate
the present vexation.
XII
In reproving others, one must never do so with pride or
anger, but rather with justice and goodness if one wishes them
to alter their ways. He who is at fault is sufficiently punished
without the addition of such terms of displeasure in which
bitterness and hardness are more the effect of rage than of an
equitable reason.
XIII
To write to him whom one loves, the heart alone need be
consulted. It knows well enough what it would say (some-
times it says more than it should !). Cavaliers have no need
to take so much care in this direction, but the majority of
the Ladies would be wiser, when they become interested,
to forget the art of writing !
XIV
Whenever we write to a person of superior rank, or high
dignity, terms of respect and submission are never badly
placed. While one should make a point of never writing of
anything abject, or servile, one must not the less observe to
render to each his proper due. Civility is an admirable
206
COURT OF ENGLAND
quality, and one should cherish it particularly for the Great ;
it is often the only currency with them, and with it they can
content the world.
XV
It is easy to write a good letter when lending money ; it
is very difficult not to write a bad one when one borrows !
The natural repugnance we feel is far from an assistance
in drawing it up, while the recipient almost always reads it
with a vexation which makes him discover faults even if there
are none.
XVI
One need not torment oneself to end one's letter with a
sentence having a favourable cadence, but when one happens
to present itself it should not be rejected ; nevertheless a
simple "I am " is wanting in nothing, and is always good.
XVII
New ideas of a pretty and playful style such as imperceptibly
diffuses itself through a Letter gives it a grace that is altogether
charming, but for this one needs both gaiety and wisdom.
In fine, all should seem natural and yet carry a double weight.
A letter written at random is not worth the trouble of reading.
XVIII
However great our literary craft, it must not be apparent,
and this particularly applies (provided it is not a challenge of
intellect) to a letter written to a savant.
XIX
One should be as concise as possible without affecting
a style so laconic as to retract the half of what one states,
for this but renders one obscure & confused, and the great
secret is to explain oneself clearly. If one has not the gift
to make oneself understood in ten lines it is better to employ
twenty.
XX
It is wise to avoid all scandal, vain sophisms, equivocation,
proverbs or sayings, for such are often but little more than
meaningless rubbish.
207
MEMOIRS OF THE
XXI
Whilst it is of consequence to neglect nothing in writing, the
care taken should be so adroitly hidden that the result should
appear to have been of easy achievement. One must diligently
efface or correct till one feels that one is satisfied with what one
has said.
When one writes often, thought & expression suggest &
form themselves, & one is only troubled which to choose.
Happy are those who can always do so equally. 1
" What is there to possibly annoy you in this docu-
ment ? " demanded My Lord Arran of the Duke of
Buckingham.
" A thousand things," replied he. " If you will
remember that I only looked for wit, and that all I
wanted was a lovable character, you will perceive
then without difficulty I discovered nothing of the
kind in these * Counsels for Good Writing.' I found
an easy style, but it did not appear to me necessary
for my heart's satisfaction that a girl I wished to love
should know so well how to phrase Letters of Compli-
ment, of Prayer, or of Consolation ! All that appeared
to me far-fetched ! I avow to you I turned to my
companion crying, ' Ah my lord, surely the Portuguese
mocks us when at her age she wishes to give lessons
on things so unessential. Would it not be far better
for her to employ herself in writing as did that daughter
1 Dona Maria's counsels, and the interest they awakened in the Duke
of Monmouth, offer yet another illustration of how intimate was Madame
d'Aulnoy's knowledge of the people about whom she wrote, and that
the numerous " billets " scattered through her volumes are trans-
scriptions from memory of originals that she had been privileged to
read, for people were less reserved in some things then, and privacy
in correspondence was not thought of. The Duke of Monmouth was
just the man to be captivated by Dona Maria's elegant reflections,
taking as he did, such a keen interest in all that appertained to the
curricula of deportment and breeding, as witness the quaintest volume
of Etiquette (a copy is now in the editor's possession) of which the
Duke accepted the dedication.
208
COURT OF ENGLAND
of her Country we know as Mariane. We have both
read her letters, and you must agree that nothing
can be more affecting. If I had but seen a Letter
from Maria that resembled those of Mariane I should
adore her, yes, I should become a fool and run the
fields.'
" ' And who told you,' demanded my friend, * that
she does not write in this manner to the one she loves ?
Would you desire that she should repeat such senti-
ments to My Lady Ossory, and other ladies equally
severe, or to men she hardly knows ? This Mariane
whose letters you admire so much pushed her passion
to the last extreme for a Frenchman, called, I believe,
the Marquis de Chamilly ; * believing herself aban-
doned, despair and love together turned her brain ;
to think as she thought, to speak as she spoke, one
would need to be out of one's senses, one must love to
infatuation, it is a species of ecstasy. If I saw a
girl capable of a similar expression I I do not know
what I should think.'
" ' I presume,' said I, c that you would think she
loved to excess.'
" c No doubt,' continued he, c and also that she
1 This refers to The Love Letters of a Portuguese Nun first pub-
lished in Paris, 1669 (English Version by Roger L'Estrange, London,
1678). In 1 66 1, Noel Bouton de Chamilly, Comte de St. Leger, and
subsequently Marquis de Chamilly, took service with Portugal, and
while in that country had an intrigue with a Franciscan Nun whose full
name was accidentally discovered as late as 1810 : Mariane Alcoforado.
In 1668 M. de Chamilly returned to France, and in 1677 married an
heiress. In 1703 he was made a marshal of France and died full of
years and covered with glory. The five epistles that he brought back
with him to France, as trophies of his Portuguese amour, created a
profound sensation, at the time of their publication. A modern effort
has been made to prove that the Comte did not cause them to be
printed, but it is very inconclusive. According to the 1901 edition
the incognito was complete until 1690, when the identity of the man
and the Christian name of the lady, were revealed. Mme. d'Aulnoy's
Memoir es de la Cour d? Angkterre first appeared five years later.
o 209
_ COURT OF ENGLAND
was more swayed by her temperament than her mind.
For me, I should choose a Mistress who was sweet,
modest, and retiring rather than one who would be
so ardent, so vehement, so so experienced.'
" * Every one to his taste,' I said. ' But I avow to
you that I had made for myself an idea of the character
of Mendosa that I cannot at all fit in with these re-
flections, and I conjure you to write a word to our
Friend asking him to send us something more about
her that will better satisfy me.'
" ' I am charmed, my lord,' said he, ' at the interest
you take in Dona Maria ; but you are asking the
Duke of Monmouth to supply the arms wherewith
you will fight him, and conquer him ; because, should
you love Dona Maria you will be his rival, and if you
become that he will advance very little in the affair.'
" ' What's that you say, my lord ? ' I cried, ' the
Duke is handsome, agreeable and young, and in this
last respect he hath indisputably an advantage over
me. Although my appearance is fairly good, and my
gallantry sufficiently delicate for me still to be for-
tunate with ladies, it is very difficult to hold out
against a handsome young man who does not ignore a
single opportunity whereby he may succeed. If
anything could give me hope, it would be that he hath
loved her first and that ordinarily the latest comer
pleases the best.'
" My Lord Argyle smiled at the reason I alleged
as an augury of my good fortune, and, as they
had served the supper he left my Closet to go into the
Salon, whence, later, we retired each one to his own
Apartment."
210
CHAPTER XXIX
" V ROSE up early the next morning, and entered
my lord's room, where I found him in bed.
" * What my lord, still asleep ! ' I ex-
JL. claimed.
" ' Why should I not sleep ? ' cried he. ' No one,
save yourself, would persecute your friends by waking
them up before the day.'
" ' I have come to ask whether you wrote that letter
of which we talked last night.'
" ' No,' said he, ' I did not. On thinking it over
I decided that it would be best for us to return to
London. You will see this girl who already torments
you so, & you may find more important concerns to
occupy you, than whether she writes well or ill.'
" ' True, I experience some uneasiness. Any other
than I would have made much better use of the favour
of the King during this time. I feel also I am very un-
grateful in abandoning the offices with which he has
invested me. But what will you ? I was born the
most reckless of men, & even if it is a question of being
the foremost & the luckiest Favourite in the Universe,
I would not sacrifice to my fortune the inclination of
my heart. Do not blame me in particular for this
fault. I inherit it from my Father, perhaps the
most gallant man that ever was. You have possibly
heard of his adventures in the lists of love ? '
" ' I have been told of the most exceptional of them/
interrupted My Lord Argyle, c and those amply proved
211
MEMOIRS OF THE
what he was capable of when he loved. It was as-
serted,' he continued, ' that the Lady was of so ele-
vated a rank that he rarely had an opportunity to see
her. Added to this was the fact that being attached
to the Court of England, it was impossible for him to
remain in her Country without the true state of affairs
being suspected. Not knowing what to do he even-
tually fitted out a ship, giving out that he was making
a voyage. The Captain & the Pilot were devoted to
him, and it was his intention to get them to run
aground during the night at a given spot, from whence
it would be easy for him, & certain chosen followers,
to land. In the disorder, which would ensue he pro-
posed to disappear, & not being seen any more it
would be concluded that he was drowned. After
this he would proceed to the Court of the Lady, so
perfectly disguised that he would be able to obtain
employment in her house as one of her domestics
& so live out the rest of his life about her, happy to
see & serve her.'
" ' The project was so carefully planned,' I added,
6 that its execution should have been easy. And it is
also true that he would have done it, had not the
wretched assassin in stabbing him cut short alike the
course of his life & of his love.' " *
" There never was a finer man," cried My Lord
Saint Albans, interrupting the Duke of Buckingham's
narrative. " He made himself loved by all who saw
him ; even his enemies did not grudge him praise."
" How I have strayed away from my subject ! "
exclaimed My Lord Duke apologetically. " But it is
one of the privileges of speaking with friends that one
* The editor has not succeeded in corroborating this proposed
termination of the liaison of Anne of Austria and the first Buckingham.
The intrigue started when he went to France to escort Henrietta Maria
>n he" marriage 1625.
212
COURT OF ENGLAND
is not constrained, and can make all the digressions
one wishes without fear of unkind criticisms being
levelled at a discourse delivered without preparation.
" My Lord Argyle strove in vain to persuade me
that my duty called me about the King. I assured
him that I should not leave Clievedon until I had a
greater disposition to love Dona Maria. ' If I went as I
am,' I said, ' I should, at our first meeting, find myself
once more in the net of my Lady Norwich, for I con-
fess it would be useless for me to try to avoid speaking
to her, as it is also useless to try to put away from my
heart what recalls her to my memory. I sigh against
my will, I fear that she is indifferent, I feel in turn anger,
jealousy, & uneasiness ; in fact, I can never forget her
unless I find something else to engage my attention.'
" c If you prefer it then,' said my lord, * we will write.
After all it would be strange if one tender letter from the
Portuguese should fix your affection either way '
" ' Love is capricious,' I told him, ' and however
strongly you may express your disapproval of my
nonsense, it will be impossible for you to reform me.'
" My lord, who had now risen, sat down to write
without making an answer. I read his letter, which
appeared very appropriate, and having thanked him
I wrote a few lines myself, & dispatched both to the
Duke of Monmouth.
" Here is his reply, which I will read to you :
" You are two insatiables ! Were the young Portuguese
to write day and night I doubt if you would be satisfied and
leave me in peace. You would do well to moderate your
ardour slightly, for she is very idle, & I cannot to-day send you
anything of hers save a little romance that may amuse you.
In any case, my lords, you must reconcile yourselves to the
situation & supply such ornaments as are missing.
" You hold the pamphlet," concluded the Duke of
Buckingham, addressing My Lord Arran, " If you wish
to know what it is about, the reading will not take long."
213
i
CHAPTER XXX
LOVE DISGUISED
A NOVEL
" T I ^HE Princesses Bourgueuse and de Sonnino
made a point of visiting Venice every year
during the Carnival. One year being pre-
vented from doing so as usual, by certain
happenings which have no place in the story I wish
to recount, they left Rome and went, instead, to
Florence ; thence they passed to Pisa, & eventually
arrived at Lucca. When they went on excursions
of this kind they took but a limited Suite. Ofttimes,
clothing themselves as Men, they travelled on horse-
back & the ladies that accompanied them made no
difficulties about imitating their example.
" ' The favorite of the Princesse Bourgueuse was,
one, Dona Panfilia, she was her relation. The
advantages which this lady possessed with regard to
height & large regular features enabled her to turn
into a very proper man, & for this reason she was always
eager to wear male dress. The Princess, who took a
great pleasure in seeing her thus attired, had given her
domestics the most stringent orders not to reveal
to anyone that Panfilia was a woman. They usually
addressed her as the Senor Panfilio & under this name
she daily experienced new adventures.
" ' The Princesses, on arriving at Lucca, alighted
at the house of the Senator Nerli ; no humbler resi-
214
COURT OF ENGLAND
dence would have sufficed the goodly company that
was with them. The Princesse de Sonnino, one of the
most beautiful people in Italy, became here the ad-
miration of all who beheld her, & the young Camille, 1
daughter of the Senator, was the only person who could
bear comparison with her.
" c The Senator received the Princesses with the
most cordial hospitality ; he is one of the leading mem-
bers of the Republic, by reason of his rank & wealth.
His daughter, by an unavoidable shaft, was stricken
at her first glance at the feigned Panfilio, & took
particular care to entertain ' him,' & prevent c him '
being ennuied ; she was a very attractive girl with
a clever wit, & a beautiful figure.
" ' Realising her favourable disposition Panfilia
decided to enjoy this amusement chance had thrown
in her way by pushing it to the utmost limit. She
paid this charming nymph marked attention, & this
had the effect of completely engaging Camille. It
happened one day, when she had cleverly separated
her or let us say him from the rest of the company
that Camille in her innocence could not forbear
saying, as she gazed at him with an air full of tender-
ness, u How melancholy & absent-minded I find you,
Signer Panfilio. I think you must be in love, & if
it is with one of our Ladies, & her rigours affect you,
choose me to be your Confidante, & rest assured that
I shall omit nothing that may serve you."
" ' Panfilio quite understood the motive of these
queries. " No," he replied quickly & passionately,
" it is impossible that I should take you for my Con-
1 Colonel Prideaux points out that Camille is in French the name
of a man while Senor is Spanish, but remembering that Dona
Maria is supposed to relate the story and that Madame d'Aulnoy
may have introduced these discrepancies deliberately, we print the
novel without revision.
215
MEMOIRS OF THE
fidante, although you suggest it with so much good
grace. Some secrets are dangerous ; were mine at
your disposal how should I know to what use you might
not put them ? "
" " You do then think you love," said Camille
with a blush, " and it is your wish to hide your Mis-
tress's name from me ? ' :
" ' " That is not my wish, Madam," replied this
naughty girl. " I dare not name her."
" ' " What if I divine it ? " said Camille coyly,
" would you be sufficiently sincere to acknowledge
it ? "
" ' " Upon the condition you would not be angry,"
said Panfilio, " I would acknowledge it to you, &
with all my heart."
" ' The conversation was here brought to an end
through several people interrupting them ; but the
too credulous Camille, much moved by Panfilio's
worth, allowed her eyes full liberty to reveal to him
certain of her sentiments.
" ' Panfilia was filled with inward amusement at the
errors of Camille brought about through her dress & as
soon as she had an opportunity to speak in private with
the Princesses, she told them she had commenced a
love-affair with the Senator's daughter, to which the
latter was inclined to lend a most favourable ear.
The Princesses congratulated Panfilia at this glorious
conquest, and rejoiced maliciously at the fooling of
Camille. They encouraged Panfilia to continue the
character of a lover &, promising them to push her
fortune as far as ever she could, she forthwith wrote
these lines to Camille :
Why, Madam, did you ask me if I was in love ? Will
you allow me to confess that I am, & with you ? I do not
know if you have a greater preference for any other, but
when I say I am well aware that there is no one else in the world
2l6
COURT OF ENGLAND
for me, & that I give you my heart in preference to anyone
I have ever seen, I but render you justice. You are in a position
to command my entire life ; my destiny will be sweet or cruel
according to your wishes ; my own are as powerful in their
desire to serve you.
" ( It was very easy for Panfilia to deliver this
missive to Camille, who made the following reply :
I am not sufficiently aware of my advantages Senor
Panfilio to think that one can love me only & as I have asked
for the secrets of your heart I do not in the least pretend to
anything more interesting than to be your Confidante. How-
ever I may confess that my esteem for you is too great to consider
this declaration in a manner adverse to your desires ; if
your representations are sincere I will regard your profession a
great honour.
" c Panfilia ran to carry this Note to the Princesses
who diverted themselves with it all day, and Camille,
impatient penned a second note.
'"I should have a difficulty, Senor Panfilio, in telling you
all I have gone through to-day. My eyes sought you in vain,
for wherever I went there was no sign of you. Is your love so
indifferent ?
" c Panfilia immediately made this response :
You cannot be very angry, Madam, at not having seen
me to-day, when, although you think I have behaved badly you
oblige me for your very reproaches do this to such a degree
that whatever loss I have sustained in omitting to pass the day
beside you, I shall no longer repent it. J swear that it is a
greater happiness to read your letter in private than to see
you surrounded by people ; no doubt by Rivals, & preferred
to me. Alas ! were my heart capable of the indifference
with which you twit me it would not know such urgent jealous
doubts. Do not refuse me an occasion to tell you how I adore
you.
" ' Camille replied the next day in these terms :
I am not ashamed to own you please me greatly, & I
am anxious to see you & regret the necessity of your absences.
217
MEMOIRS OF THE
But I should reproach myself very much were I to give you
opportunities of seeing me in private. Were my interest in
you less you would not appear so dangerous. Content yourself
with this, nor ever seek an occasion to entertain me alone.
" c Panfilia immediately sought Camille. " In truth,
Madam," she said to her when they met, " your
kindnesses are accompanied by much sorrow. You
flatter me that you are not indifferent to me, yet
ou treat me worse than if you were ! What could
e more cruel than this prohibition that you have
just made that I must not see you privately."
" ' " I have told you," said Camille, ' that if I gave
any heed to the favourable inclination I have for you
the time might arrive when I should no longer have
the strength to fly you as I should."
" ' " And why should you be obliged to flee from
me ? " demanded her companion, " the more you
know me the less danger will you find in our inter-
course."
" ' " I know too well what my heart tells me,"
replied the girl with a blush, " & since you desire to
know what prompts me to avoid you, I must resolve
to inform you of my sad history. Know, Panfuio,
that some time since I saw at a Fete given by the
Duke of Tuscany an Englishman of the House of
Norfolk who had just arrived in Lucca. The Duke of
Tuscany comes here sometimes & entertains the
Ladies. Upon this occasion they danced a Ballet.
In this the stranger shone, for all that advantages,
presence, youth, & even beauty, may have, seemed
united in him. If my eyes served me fairly he was
not less impressed by me, & after the dance & when he
had received the plaudits of the Assembly he came and
seated himself near me.
" ' " Thinking that I could not refuse to join in the
praises of the rest, I said, looking at him with much
218
COURT OF ENGLAND
cordiality, ' you seem to have attracted universal
admiration, & I avow that I have never seen anyone
dance with so much grace and precision.'
" ' " ' It is true, Madam,' he replied, * that I have
won the approbation of the company, but it affects
me little in comparison to your condescension. In
short, may I confess that I have sentiments in regard
to you which cause me in some degree to merit your
kindness ? '
" c " ' Content yourself with what others accord
you,' said I. ' Perhaps when we know each other
better I '
" ' " At this point an old and strict relation with
whom I had come to the Fete interrupted us, telling
me in a low voice that it was not good manners to
speak to a stranger, & if I did not cease forthwith
from doing so she would inform my father. After
such a menace I did not dare to linger with my lord,
but my eyes told him so plainly that he could not
mistake me that my silence was owing to a reprimand.
" ' " I carried such a vivid memory of what had
passed in my heart that I lay awake all night, trying
to evolve a plan whereby I might see him the next
day.
" c " I was still cudgelling my brains the following
evening, when he entered the company with one of
my father's friends. It is easy to you to judge the
effect of such an agreeable surprise. He who pre-
sented the gentleman to me, explained that he brought
me an excellent dancing-master, & one who could teach
me, in a very short time, the contre-danse l of England,
which my father was anxious I should learn. My Father
entered at that moment, and what had passed was
repeated to him. He expressed a desire to see me take
my first lesson, & the Englishman gave it, in a manner
1 The ancestor of the round dance.
219
MEMOIRS OF THE
so easy & so natural, that all the world might well have
been deceived. In dancing, he implored me to listen
to the explanation of his metamorphosis & pointed
out that it was caused through his heart being so
susceptible & tender. He said further that if it were
his misfortune that I did not feel any inclination for
him it was his entreaty that I would declare it candidly.
In such case he would try to cure himself of a passion
which, as it was in its initial stage so strong, he had
reason to fear, he might not be able to master later
on.
" ' " I told him he caused me great embarrassment
by so precipitate an assault, & that the presence of
my father prevented my being able to give a proper
reply ; but that if he cared to come the next day I
would be pleased to see him.
" ' " My Father expressed himself very content with
the capacity of my master, who on his part did not
fail to return the following evening, upon which
occasion he had greater liberty in speaking to me.
c What will be my fate ? ' he asked when we met,
' will you suffer me to love you Madam, & will you be
sufficiently kind as not to hate me '
" ' " My Father entered at this moment & his
presence prevented me from replying as I should have
wished all I could do was to say very low ;
" ' " ' Love on, & you may -please.'
" c " My Father did not remain a very long time with
us, & as soon as he had departed my lord exclaimed :
" ' " ' Ha ! Madam, how happy I shall be if loving
you suffices to please you.'
" c " * When one has your worth, it is sufficient
to love to please/ I replied blushing.
"' "But," continued Camille, " I will not stop to
detail our conversation ; contenting myself with telling
you that I have never passed a time so sweet or so
220
COURT OF ENGLAND
enjoyable as that when I daily saw this amiable
stranger. We earnestly occupied ourselves in trying
to find the means to make my Father agree to our
Marriage. The Duke of Tuscany promised my lord
all his influence, & the day was arranged upon which
the demand was to be made, when a Friend of my
Father's, a harsh & sour man, discovering that my
lord had got into our House under a disguise, by passing
himself off as a dancing master, considered it an injury
only to be repaired at the sacrifice of the Milord's
life. This friend went to my Father, and disclosing
the amorous secret to him, represented possible issues
so powerfully that my father's rage kjiew no bounds.
He persuaded himself that my Lover had already
induced me to sacrifice my honour to his passion, &
as soon as he had heard the complete story he resolved
to immolate him to his hatred. It happened, however,
that when my Father & his Friend arranged a means
whereby my lord might be stabbed without noise
they selected a reckless gentleman who was in my
Father's service, & in whom he had extreme confidence.
Fortunately, I had apprised this Gentleman of what
had passed between my lord & myself, & as he looked
with more lenient eyes than my Father did upon our
intrigue he hurried to warn me of the peril menacing
my Lover : that they had sworn to ruin him, & that
if he did not hasten to leave he would not answer for
his life.
" ' " ' But,' said I, ' when my Father is informed of
his merit & of his birth surely his resentment will
be calmed ? '
" ' " ' No Madam,' he replied, ' you must not
flatter yourself, I have already tried this. I endea-
voured to make my lord appear desirable to him by
the friendship that Grand Duke hath for him. But he
took fresh offence. " What," he cried, " It is obvious
221
MEMOIRS OF THE
that this man of quality & importance has attached
himself to me simply to dishonour me. Under a shame-
ful disguise he takes the liberty to see my daughter.
The traitor shall die or I will die myself." '
" ' " I judged well," continued Camille, " from the
discourse of this Gentleman that I must make up my
mind to persuade the stranger to absent himself if I
did not wish him to run a thousand risks. Please
imagine what a cruel task this was for me, to labour
for the departure of the person who of all the world
was most dear to me. Nevertheless I could face any
trouble more willingly than the possibility of his
danger, &, that not a moment might be lost in ap-
prising him, I conjured this same Gentleman who was
chartered to destroy him, to assist me to save him.
My entreaties were so urgent, that after much diffi-
culty he agreed to take him a Letter from me. Here
it is :
Although I know that in losing you I lose all my peace
& the only good thing in my life, I am compelled to implore
you to go away. My Father is so incensed against you that
I cannot face, without dread, the consequences that may result
from his anger. He is persuaded, not only that I love you,
but that I have given you tokens unworthy of his race, & of
my honour. To my shame I tell you on my part that in this
country they employ poison ; they assassinate ; all apparently
is permitted to avenge honour. How can you always guard
against secret enemies ? You will never be able to avoid
them opposed as they are to the broader understanding of
your own land, & even if you were so fortunate as to escape,
to what pain should I not be ever subject ? What could you
do to assuage it ? If my Father's fury menaced only my
life you would see in me a courage that would perhaps surprise
you ; but, alas ! it is you who are more concerned than I, &
I confess without a blush, that I have in this connection, all
the weakness of my sex all the weakness of a lover. Go, I
beg of you, in the name of all you have so tenderly sworn to me,
in the name of my honour, in the name of yourself. Ah !
222
COURT OF ENGLAND
what am I saying ? How cruelly dear will this command cost
me ! But would you wish me to give it without pain ? &
would you not be trifling with my heart were you to obstinately
desire to remain in this place where you have such dangerous
enemies ? Do not add this cruel circumstance to those which
already have made me one of the most miserable people in
the world. Remember, I love you to such a degree, that to
save you from the smallest chance of danger I would happily
die. Remember also, that he who persecutes us is my Father,
& that you could not go against him in any way without my
suffering in the reaction, & that your departure, whilst perhaps
killing me, is yet the only grace that I can ask of you. And I
do ask it, as a a proof of your obedience, which will preserve
to you eternally the possession of my heart.
Oh, God ! I have no more strength ! Grief overwhelms me.
Go. Pity me. Love me.
" ' " My tears effaced nearly all the characters of
the Letter.
" < " I gave it to the Gentleman of whom I have
spoken, & he delivered it to my lord, confirming all,
as I had desired. The latter remained a long time
in the most painful irresolution, but at last he made up
his mind, & wrote me these words.
I am going to leave, Madam. It suffices that for the
preservation of my life you have ordered it ; but the command
will not prolong it ; Absence from you will serve in lieu of
the stiletto or poison that your Father's unmerited vengeance
prepares for me. I shall undoubtedly die, Madam, but at
least remember that it will be through obeying you.
" ' " The perusal of this Note overwhelmed me with
such dire affliction that I do not know how it was
that my mind did not give way.
" ' " He departed as I had desired. A thousand
times I repented having given the mandate, but when
I recalled the dangers he would have run I could not
wish things different.
" ' " My Father never doubted but that this hurried
departure was on account of some warning. He wished
223
COURT OF ENGLAND
to spare me the degrading results of the reprimands
he considered he should in duty bound have adminis-
tered to me on what had passed, but he resolved to
marry me speedily, & deliver himself in the future
from the uneasiness which accompany the responsi-
bility of a young person. As yet he has found no one
of whom I approve.
" * " I began, assisted by my good sense, & his
absence, to forget the Englishman, though at times I still
found myself so weak with regard to him, & so tender
that, fighting my inclinations I took care to avoid
anything that might give me news of him. Then you
arrived, & I avow that despite your worth, I should
never have had any especial disposition in your favour,
were it not for the extreme likeness you bear to my
Lover. The first moment I saw you I thought it
was he ! The same features, the same tone of voice,
my heart alike surprised and fluttered allowed itself
to be seduced into a desire to love you. But let us
guard against giving too much rein to our tenderness ;
spies are all about me ; I am miserable ; & you see
how I was formerly obliged to break with one I loved
so much. Alas ! What have I not now to fear in
regard to you ! "
" ' She ceased speaking, & Panfilia, touched alike
by her beauty & sincerity, & feeling could no longer
abuse her credulity told her of her own sex asking at
the same time a thousand forgivenesses for the decep-
tion that she had made.
" f Camille was secretly much annoyed ; but not
wishing to betray this, she thanked her for enlightening
her as to an error that in its consequences might have
cost her dear, & shortly after the Princesses Bougeuse
& Sonnino, having remained all the time they intended
in Lucca, returned to Rome accompanied by Panfilia.' '
END OF THE NOVEL.
224
CHAPTER XXXI
" "W" LOOKED so sad at the conclusion of this
recital," continued the Duke of Buckingham,
" that my Lord Argyle was surprised."
JL " * What ails you ? ' he demanded. * You
say nothing in praise of this Romance ; do you not
find it to your taste ? Or do you require still
another effort of the Dona Maria to confirm you in
the intention you have of loving her ? '
" ' It would be difficult,' I said at last, ' not to be
content with what I have just read. But do you
not see, as / do, that it is her own History ? She
has been satisfied to change the names, & lay the scenes
in another country '
" ' I do not see it at all,' interrupted he, * similar
events happen every day ; one can experience them,
or write them oneself.'
" ' No, no ! ' I cried, ' she particularises far too much ;
these experiences can be none other than her own. 'Tis
she who is Camille. Bon Dieu what a letter was that
which she wrote to the Englishman to oblige him to
leave. What delicacy ! What passion ! Doubtless she
loves him still, & this embarrasses her Father to such^a
degree that he could not find a better method of curing
her than to send her away. This is the reason of the
journey that has brought her to our Court ; she comes
with a heart full of tenderness. What a glorious oppor-
tunity for me to attempt to destroy a rival so highly es-
teemed, & to win a maiden whose heart is so enslaved ! '
p 225
MEMOIRS OF THE
" * I am surprised you are so alarmed,' said my lord.
* You imagine monsters only to combat them, & I so
little recognise you upon this occasion that I require
my eyes to confirm that it is you who speak.'
" ' And I avow to you,' I returned, ' that I begin
to feel ashamed of my weaknesses. But what can I
say for my justification ? I already find myself in-
tensely moved, & you know what one does feel in the
first moments. . . . Let us go to London ! ' I
cried. ' Dona Maria, by her wit, & the doubts &
uneasinesses which she inspires in me, only places
me in a better condition to conquer my passion for
My Lady Norwich. Let us go, that I may flout the
charms of that inconstante by doing homage at the
feet of the Portuguese.'
" My lord highly approved of my design ; he was
beginning to find Clievedon very dull, & was charmed
to have an opportunity of returning to Whitehall
without being so rude as to leave me alone.
" The whole of the journey I spoke only of the
amiable Mendosa ; more than once I read her
Romance ; which reading only served to confirm me
in the opinion that she loved some one. It is true, that,
notwithstanding my pain, I found some consolation
in the reflection that it must be a long time since she
had seen her lover. I flattered myself that his memory
might be still sufficiently strong to steel her heart
against the Duke of Monmouth, but that my attentions
would cause her to prefer me to the absent one,
even to the young Duke.
" In this confusion of thought I arrived in London.
After having saluted the King, who received me with
his usual goodness, but who repeatedly rallied me
about my sojourn in the country, (of which he
was better informed than I knew,) I passed into the
226
COURT OF ENGLAND
State apartments of the Queeri, where she holds her
Circle.
" The first object that struck my eyes was My Lady
Norwich more beautiful than I had ever seen her,
& next I beheld the Portuguese. She was lean &
brown, but her features were sufficiently regular ;
she had beautiful teeth, & eyes capable of disarming
the hearts of the wildest. She looked at me with
interest as a man she had never seen before, & as I
observed that she said something to My Lady Hyde,
whose eyes at that moment sought me, I did not
doubt but that Dona Maria had asked my name. Her
interest delighted me and I approached her without
hesitation. ' Do not ask my name, save of myself,
Madam,' I said, ' I am returned expressly to tell
you it.'
" She blushed. Surprised at so marked a compli-
ment.
" c Who informed you I was speaking of you,
Monsieur ? ' she demanded. ' Your instinct must be
wonderful, for I had hardly opened my mouth before
you already knew what I was saying.'
" Lady Hyde joined in our conversation, & as I
desired to make a good impression I adopted a vivacity
of wit, & a gay sprightly air such as did not displease
Dona Maria.
" Whilst I thus conversed with her My Lady
Norwich was very attentive to what was passing,
while the Duke of Monmouth, who had also interests
at stake (had he not told me so but a few days before ?)
fell into a fury equalling that of the former at seeing
between Mendosa & myself such freedom established
that we might have known each other for years. The
respect due to the Queen prevented us from speaking
together as long as I could have desired, & it was
impossible during the rest of the evening to rejoin
227
MEMOIRS OF THE
her. As soon as I had retired to my apartment Her
Grace My Wife, who had noticed me speaking with
the Portuguese, came & asked if I had not been
charmed with her wit. Affecting an air of indifference
I replied that I did not find anything very marvellous
in her ; that though she had plenty of fire it was not
likely such vivacity would accompany profound judg-
ment, & I thought but little of a head without brains.
" ' She has made a great sensation,' cried my wife,
6 & as the Queen thinks so much of her, there are many
ladies of the Court who have given banquets in
her honour ; I, in turn, have, with the Duchess of
Richmond, Lady Hyde, & My Lady Feismouth,
made up a party, & she is to be entertained at Sion
Hill.' 1
" ' What ! ' I cried, ' you are only taking women ? '
" * Yes,' she replied, * My Lord of Saint Albans &
the Duke of Monmouth were dying to go with us, but
the Queen, who realises their passion for Dona Maria,
would not perhaps approve, and far from winning her
good graces by the expedition I should merely get
myself into trouble.'
" I praised her prudence, but I said I was sure the
Queen would not be displeased if I made one of the
party; that in such a case I would take My LordArgyle,
My Lord Oxford, & George Porter, whose humour
had something so cheering that I was certain all the
ladies would be delighted to have him.
" c Do you think,' cried she, ' he would be gay
in a place where he would see our sister of Richmond,
knowing, as you do, the attachment he hath for her,
& the tricks she hath served him ? Is it not certain
that he would be most melancholy ? '
" I burst out laughing. ' Truly,' I said, * he does
1 We have been unable to find any trace of Buckingham residing at
Sion Hill.
228
COURT OF ENGLAND
not take things so strongly to heart as you imagine ;
he laughs at everything.'
"'Ah ! so you like to make him appear,' cried she.
' You do not know what he told me only two days
ago.'
' What did he say to you ? ' I asked.
" c All that an honourable man in despair might say.'
" ' What, you have fallen into that trap ? ' con-
tinued I.
" c Anybody would have fallen as I did,' said she,
' & no doubt he is in the right when he complains of
your sister ' '
" Suffer me to interrupt you, my lord," said
My Lord Arran, " to ask you what was the subject
of the Quarrel between the Duchess & Mr. Porter."
" You are probably the only member of the Court
who is ignorant of it," observed My Lord Saint
Albans, " but that is not astonishing ; for usually
one knows less about those near to one than others.
While My Lord Duke recovers his breath a little I will
recount the story to you."
229
1
CHAPTER XXXII
Duchess of Richmond was less than
eleven years old when she was married to
My Lord Herbert, son of the Earl of Pem-
broke, but he died so soon that she was
still a child when she appeared at Court in her widow's
weeds. As her features were not fully formed we were
not to know by her appearance then that she was
going to be one of the most beautiful women in
England.
" It happened one day, that, in order to pick fruit,
she had climbed a tree 1 in the King's little garden,
where no one had a right to enter. She was attired
in a long black dress & a black veil that entirely covered
her. From a distance his Majesty 2 perceived her,
& could not imagine what sort of a bird it was, for
her veil, stretched over the branches of the tree,
resembled large wings. Knowing how well he shot the
Prince called to George Porter, 3 telling him to go
1 In the Home Park at Hampton Court an enormous oak is still in a
hale and green old age where the tradition of the neighbourhood
asserts the young children of Charles I. used to play climbing and sporting
among its huge boughs ; they had an arbour seat on the crown of the
trunk and a ladder to climb up to it. There are still enormous iron
staples and nails are clenched in the venerable tree. Strickland's
Queens, vol. v, pp. 281-82.
Then the Prince of Wales.
3 George Porter, eldest son by Olivia Botlier of Endymion Porter
(1587-1649) ; a follower of the first Duke of Buckingham, b. 1622.
He served under Ormonde, and Prince Rupert ; and subsequently
under the Duke of Newcastle. In 1645 he ratted to the Roundheads.
230
COURT OF ENGLAND
& kill the big bird that he saw in the tree. Porter
was one of the youngest of the courtiers & stood very
high in the King's 1 favour ; he was distinguished alike
by his charming joyous humour, his regularity of
feature, and his address, which was above all the
others, saving the Duke of Buckingham's. George
Porter looked some time in the direction in which
his Royal Highness pointed, & deciding that the bird
was too far off for a ball to reach it, told him that he
would fetch a fusil & speedily bring him this flutterer.
" But when he approached the tree & recognised
the little Countess of Pembroke, 2 he had a difficulty
in hiding his amusement. At first she stared at him,
& then with childish laughter commenced to pelt him
with fruit. He looked at her with a far closer atten-
tion than even before ; her fearlessness, the freshness of
her skin, & the sweetness of her eyes alike charmed him,
& when he recalled the object for which he had come
he could not forgive himself. He looked at her, he
looked at the fusil, & his manner joined to his silence
made her feel very uncomfortable.
" ' What is it, Porter ? ' she asked, ' you do not
speak, & appear to be confused.'
" ' Ha ! Madam,' he replied, ' if you knew what
brought me here you would easily comprehend that
I have reason to be bewildered. The Prince of Wales
has just seen you, but he takes you for a bird, & I have
come, Madam, can you credit what for ? '
" ' How,' she cried, < To kill me ? '
He was : " extremely quarrelsome, although his courage was not
always above suspicion." Notwithstanding that the Royalist party
in general mistrusted him, he was made gentleman of the Privy
Chamber to the Queen. He married Diana, daughter of George
Goring, first Earl of Norwich ; he died 1683. Chiefly from the
Dictionary of National Biography.
1 King Charles I.
* Sic, She was Lady Herbert,
231
MEMOIRS OF THE
" ' Aye,' he answered, ' to kill you ; & I promised
his Royal Highness to take him back some of your
feathers.'
" ' You must keep your word,' she said, c and we will
play the merriest game on him. That he may be the
better deceived I will conceal myself in a basket with
a cover ; this can be carried to him.' She sent for one
immediately ; one of her Gentlemen took one side,
Mr. Porter the other. During their transit this
last said a thousand pretty things to the little lady,
who replied nothing but what was full of wit &
vivacity, & to Porter the journey appeared all too
short.
" When they arrived he presented the Prince with
the basket, saying that it had been his good fortune
to take the butterfly alive, & that he would sooner have
died than have killed it, it was so beautiful. The
Prince, impatient to behold it, promptly raised the
lid, & he had the agreeable surprise of the young lady
flinging her arms round his neck.
" It was not astonishing that she should embrace the
Prince with such familiarity ; every one knows that
they were brought up together, & that he regarded
her as a sister. After that day she was never called
anything else but the Papillon, and there are Courts
in Europe where she is better known under this
cognomen than her own name.
" Porter was so struck with her budding charms
that he could not live without sight of her, but he
dared not, as she was so much above him, particu-
larly so after her marriage to the Duke of Richmond,
which gave her the rank of a Princess of the Blood,
give vent to his passion. Although he was the most
agreeable of the young men of the Court he gave up
aU hope of pleasing her. Thinking that he might,
by another amour, efface from his heart the one that
232
COURT OF ENGLAND
reigned there with such sovereignty, he cast his eyes
on an actress named Mistress Long, 1 whom he took
with him into the country, hoping that absence, &
whatever happiness he might know through his love
passages with this girl would effect his cure. The
Blessed Martyr not knowing of Porter's sentiments in
regard to the Duchess, was at times very angry for
his negligence in attending the Court, but Porter
bearing in silence anything that was said thereupon
did not mend his ways. The troubles which took place
about this time in England suspended his passion for
a while. The Duchess of Richmond, again a widow,
proceeded to France to take up her duties as Lady in
Waiting to the Queen Mother. 2 She learned by the
example of this great Princess, as well as by her own
experiences, that the fortunes of the most exalted
& those that appear the most fixed are subject to the
greatest changes. The Duchess, who had developed
a beauty so perfect, & a dignity so imposing, as to seem
but little short of a queen herself, was now so reduced
as to be nearly deprived of necessaries. I have heard
it said she passed nearly all the Summer without
1 Mrs. Jane Long was of Killigrew's Company in 1665, but subse-
quently ceded to the rival entertainment, and we find her lodged, with
other players at the Duke's, " for safety," in the house of the latter's
manager, Sir William Davenant, who was also the Poet Laureate. Dr.
Doran, Their Majesties 9 Servants, vol. i, p. 61.
"Mrs. Long the Mistress of the Duke of Richmond celebrated
for the elegance of her appearance in men's clothes." Cunningham's
Story of Nell Gwyn, p. 16.
It would be interesting to know if the Duke of Richmond referred to
was the husband of George Porter's Duchess or the sixth Duke, who
married Frances Stewart. The portrait of Mrs. Long, here reproduced
(engraved 1669) shows her to have been, in the 'sixties, a woman of early
middle age. Her name disappears from the play bills after 1671.
* Her Majesty Queen Henrietta Maria, b. November 25, 1609 ;
m. May 1 1, 1626 ; d. September 10, 1669 ; lived, as is well known, in exile,
either at the Louvre, or at St. Germain's, during the greater part of ' the
trouble ' in England.
233
MEMOIRS OF THE
gloves, not being able to make up her mind to don
old ones, nor having the wherewithal to purchase new.
But leaving moral reflections, I may say that she was
not so haughty in Paris as she had been in London,
and anxious for some distraction from the overwhelm-
ing miseries of the times she was inclined to listen
favourably to the vows of Mr. Howard, 1 who as you
know, is an honourable gentleman, handsome, & most
gallant. Like many others, he had left England & had
become passionately enamoured of the Duchess. At
first she suffered this with indifference, but this in-
difference after a while relaxed, gradually changing
into a serious interest. It is true that they were so
cautious that no one guessed their sentiments until
the return of the Duchess to London, 2 but her
jealousy of My Lady Shrewsbury, whom Mr. Howard
had loved before his departure from England, &whom
he promptly went to see on his return, caused her to
break out in such a way as to destroy in one moment
all the measures she had carefully taken to guard her
secret. Upon observing this indignation, Mr. Howard
told her that she had it in her power to assure herself
for ever of his heart ; & if she would but consent to
espouse him he would be true to her till death, and
she would find in him all the devotion, tenderness, &
gratitude she could possibly desire. Her Grace of
Richmond hesitated over such a vital step, but con-
sidering that in England a duchess loses neither her
name nor her rank upon marrying a person of an
inferior station, she decided that, having twice been
married by the will of the Court, she would, this
1 ' Northern Tom Howard,' brother of the Earl of Carlisle, b. ?,
d. 1678, buried in Westminster Abbey.
* Presumably in 1662, when the Queen Mother returned to settle in
England. The latter went to France again at the end of three years
where she died in 1668,
234
JANE LONG
From a mezzotint by Thomson after Lely
COURT OF ENGLAND
third time, dispose of her hand in favour of the gallant
man she loved. Thereupon she solemnly plighted
herself to him, provided he would consent for a time
to keep the marriage secret. He found too many
advantages in this alliance to forego it on account
of so small a stipulation ; he agreed to everything
she required and more, & his one trouble was to find
a suitable house where, without noise or display, the
Marriage might be celebrated.
" Mr. Porter had in the meanwhile married, &
although his wife was beautiful of distinguished
birth, they were separated. He still continued in the
Country with his actress, & still strove to forget the
beauty of the Duchess of Richmond. Her prolonged
absence had brought him a certain resignation ; he
had persuaded himself of the impossibility of winning
the good graces of a lady who apparently cared more
for herself than for anyone else ; (it was some con-
solation to think that none of those who had loved her
had experienced a more favourable fate than he had).
" Such was the situation in which he was, when one
night, after he had retired, he was told that Mr.
Howard asked to see him on an important matter.
The friendship which united them did not permit
that he should be kept waiting a moment. Mr.
Porter ran down, & they embraced as people do who
have not met for a couple of years ; then Mr. Howard
explained that at a most important crisis of his life
he had not been able to think of anyone more suitable
as a depository of his good fortune. The following
day he hoped to espouse the greatest as well as the
most delightful woman in England, but it was her
desire that the Marriage should be secret, & he was
there to beg the loan of his friend's house. Porter
received these confidences with the warmest goodwill,
he embraced Mr. Howard repeatedly, saying that all
235
MEMOIRS OF THE
he possessed was his without reserve, that he could
dispose of it as he pleased, & that he so fully sympa-
thised with the desire for secrecy, that if Mr. Howard
did not wish to reveal the lady's name, he would not
even ask it. Howard replied, that if he alone were
concerned, he would not wish to keep a single thing
from Porter, but that his Mistress had so peremptorily
forbidden him to make anything known, that he could
not refuse to obey her.
" ' By all means obey her,' said Porter. c I swear
to you that in company with Mistress Long I will
keep my apartment, which is most retired. You
will be quite free to enjoy the pleasures of Hymen
without importunity.' Thereupon Mr. Howard took
a hurried leave of him, &, returning to the Duchess
related to her the steps he had taken.
" ' I am delighted that you have chosen Porter,'
she said, c as for a long time he has displayed the
greatest esteem for me. I do not think that there is
any reason why our marriage should be kept hidden
from him ; I would sooner he should know than
anyone at Court ; you may tell him all.'
" The day fixed for the marriage arrived at last, &
the Duchess & her lover left London as secretly as
possible. They arrived at their friend's, but he did
not appear having shut himself up in his chamber,
and when Howard asked for him the servants said that
he was away, and would they give their orders as if
the house were their own. Preparations were being
made for the ceremony when one of the rooms caught
fire, the flames gaining the one in which the Duchess
was. Much alarmed and frightened she hurriedly
sought escape by a secondary stair. On reaching the
top she saw a door open ; and entered. It was
Porter's Closet ! He was occupied in going through
a casket of papers, & had just found the Miniature
236
COURT OF ENGLAND
Portrait of the Duchess herself in all her grandeur,
dressed as a man, as you see her in so many places
at Whitehall ; & never was a figure more majestic
nor a leg so fine as hers. At this sight Porter broke
off his search to admire the picture, he felt an aching
in his heart caused by the deep wounds that the
Duchess had formerly inflicted. Once more he sighed
for her, & then, hearing a noise he turned his head
to perceive the Duchess herself alive and in the flesh
standing on the threshold only a few feet away.
CHAPTER XXXIII
EVER was there a more agreeable surprise
than his as he hastened to meet her.
Saluting her with profound respect, he
asked her by what good fortune he
saw her then.
" ' By a preference, 5 she replied, * that I have given
you over all my friends. I have come here with Mr.
Howard for the affair about which he spoke.'
" ' That means,' said Porter, * that you have had a
sufficiently good opinion of me to rely on my discretion
with respect to the lady he is about to espouse ; &
you, Madam, are going to augment by your presence
the pleasures of this feast ? '
" ' How now,' cried the Duchess with a burst of
laughter, c is it possible that a man, as clever as you
are, can be still in the dark, & have you yet to divine
that it is my own secret that I have placed in your
hands ? '
" Porter stared at her a long time without saying
anything when he heard these words, & then, as if
suddenly bereft of all his powers, he fell into a chair
in such a state of collapse that it seemed as if he were
about to die.
" The Duchess much amazed at this sudden illness
was full of concern, & was just going to call for help
when he feebly prayed her to accord him a moment's
audience. She placed herself opposite to him, and
he looked at her again for some moments, without
238
COURT OF ENGLAND
being able to find the words he wanted to illustrate the
intensity of his passion. Her Grace attributed his
silence to his faintness, because she knew he was very
clever, & that he had such an excellent address that it
was almost impossible that anything should embarrass
him ; but when one loves, respect and fear are in-
separables ; they know how to transform the most
debonnaire into the most boorish.
" It was anger that eventually spurred this Cavalier
to action.
" ' Is it possible, Madam,' he demanded, ' that you
have chosen my house to get married in ? that my
closest friend has been happy enough to please you ?
What ! Am I to be the Minister of your common
satisfaction ? While, condemned to eternal silence,
I shall without hope continue to adore you ? Yes,
Madam, yes, I shall adore you. I have done so ever
since that fatal day when the King sent me with a
firelock to find you in the little Garden at Whitehall.
Your eyes lanced me with their thrusts, & instead of
wounding you, as I was ordered, I returned in your
train with a heart pierced by a thousand darts. But
you were a child at the time, later you were a Princess ;
& your heart was so light & volatile, what opportunity
had I to speak to you of a devotion which had become
so serious to me, & had, even then, caused me such
intense suffering ? Your beauty increased ; I ren-
dered you a thousand secret homages, & wafted you a
thousand sighs that I dared not let you hear. Your
rank as Princess of the Blood intimidated me. " What
would happen," I thought, " were the Duke of
Richmond or the King to discover my passion ? They
would forbid the Duchess to allow her eyes to rest on
me. How should I bear it if she regarded me with
indignation, if she punished my temerity by her
hatred ? " In this cruel condition I languished,
MEMOIRS OF THE
until I thought that separation was the only remedy
for my trouble. I married, & left for the Country
with my wife, but my lack of inclination for her
rendered me impatient of all her wishes, and after
we had lived long enough together to render ourselves
mutually miserable, we separated. To give me some
entertainment I attached myself to Mistress Long,
she is sweet and amenable. I determined I would
not see you any more, Madam. I never spoke of you
& if I was not altogether cured I certainly was less ill.
Your widowhood, your sojourn in France, the many
misfortunes and upsets that have happened in this
Country, all these I say, occupied me. Alas ! What
have you come for ? Your presence reopens all my
wounds & in addition informs me that your heart is
sensible of simple worth ; that to please you it is not
necessary to be a Duke of Lenox or of Richmond ;
& that if I had but put in practice all the artifice Love
teaches ; if I had been more aspiring since the time
I have been yours, & had discovered my sentiments
to you, perhaps through gratitude, charity, or even
through caprice, you might have sacrificed yourself
for me. You are doing it for this other, & he, to tell
the truth, though he may be of greater worth, sur-
passes me neither in means or birth, & is utterly
beneath me in his capacity to love. This, Madam, this
is the cause of the despair in which you see me ; this
is what has ruined my life '
" * That will do, Porter, that will do,' said the
Duchess with such an air of hauteur as might well have
annihilated him on the spot. c I blame myself for
having listened so long, but the novelty of the thing
surprised me to such a degree as to account for my
silence. I will leave you, & I forbid you even to
speak to me again.' In saying these words she
cast him a disdainful glance & walked out of the
240
COURT OF ENGLAND
Closet, abandoning him to the cruellest misery that
he had yet known.
" Mr. Howard had no sooner seen the fire than all
his care was to join the Duchess, in order to reassure
her about any fear she might entertain. He ran to
her Chamber, but did not find her ; he called her but
without success. He thought she might be down-
stairs.
" He had searched for her almost everywhere when he
caught sight of her in the courtyard, & as he advanced
towards her he saw by her appearance that she was in
a great state of agitation, but he attributed it to appre-
hension aroused by the fire.
" c I desire to leave here and return to London
immediately,' she said.
" ' What, Madam,' he cried, ' leave without making
me happy you will not complete what you resolved
in my favour ? '
" * I will complete it,' she replied, ' but it will never
be in this house ; I regard the fire as a bad omen. 5
" ' But Madam,' said Mr. Howard who was utterly
unsuspicious ' Fire is a sign of rejoicing ; a battle is
never gained, a town is never taken, nothing of import-
ance happens but that an illumination is commanded !
Chance has done what I should perhaps have ordered
myself had I thought of it.'
" The Duchess would not pay any attention to
this reasoning. They must, she insisted, leave at once
& make fresh arrangements for getting married.
" Whilst she was taking her departure Porter sud-
denly recovered from the extreme abasement into
which his misery had flung him, his mood changing
to the greatest fury of which a man is capable. No
longer did he regard Mr. Howard as his oldest & most
intimate friend ; rather did he look on him as a rival,
as a despoiler of treasure to which he considered he
Q 241
COURT OF ENGLAND
had a right to pretend. In his first anger he could
think of no better means of avenging himself & punish-
ing the Duchess for the scorn she had just shown him,
than before her eyes to cut the throat of the man she
loved. He started up quickly to go in search of them ;
but then he remembered that this violent proceeding
would be condemned by all the world, for the rules
of common decency forbade that he should attack
his guest. This notion of honour did not appease
his anger, & was swept aside upon his remembering
that the marriage would proceed. Jealousy took
complete hold of him, & he rushed from the Closet
to go and pierce by a thousand thrusts of his poniard,
the man for whom at all other times he would have
given his life.
" Strange are the effects of love. Love gains an
empire over the soul, so absolute, that one finds
no weapons that may be opposed to it, & the greatest
Hero becomes as feeble as the most insignificant of
men.
" As Porter hurried forth his Mistress met him ;
she came to give an account of the departure of the
Duchess & Mr. Howard !
" After the first revulsion Porter could not help
feeling some satisfaction when he remembered the
extremities he had resolved to adopt, and when he
had called all his reason and all his strength to his
aid he firmly made up his mind not to go near the
Court until he was quite cured,"
242
CHAPTER XXXIV
voluntary exile which Porter inflicted
on himself had already lasted some years
when he was obliged to go to London,
having heard that his daughter Olive,
whom they were bringing up for him, & who was a
beauty, had inspired a great passion in the heart of
the Earl of Cavendish, 1 who, to his worth and clever-
ness, joined lineage and great worldly possessions
such as to render him the most redoubtable man of
the court in an intrigue of this kind. It was he who
had so cruel an adventure in Paris in 1667. The officers
of the Guards having met him at the play had the
cowardice to attack him, & they had such a great advan-
tage that, although he defended himself like a lion they
pierced him with many thrusts & left him for dead. 2
1 He was not known as * Earl ' till a much later date, as that was the
highest dignity of his father who died in 1684. William, fourth Lord
Cavendish, fourth Earl and first Duke of Devonshire, b. 1640, m.
October 26, 1662, Mary, second daughter of the Duke of Ormonde, and
so a sister of Arran. He was created Duke of Devonshire May 12, 1694,
and died August 1 8, 1707.
2 As usual our authoress is a little uncertain in her dates. In
1669 he (Cavendish) went with a Mr. Montague upon an embassy
to France, and was there engaged in an affair which attracted attention
throughout Europe. Being on the stage at the opera he was insulted by
three French officers in the King's Guard ; one he struck, whereupon
they drew, and he throwing himself against the side scenes stood on his
guard but would have been overborne had not a Swiss of Mr. Montague
taken him round the waist and thrown him over into the pit for
safety. His assailants were arrested, but were liberated on his inter-
cession." Dictionary of National Biography) vol. ix, p. 370.
243
MEMOIRS OF THE
The King 1 determined to make a severe example
of these officers but My Lord Cavendish, more
alarmed at the peril which his enemies ran, than
the danger he had personally experienced, caused
himself to be carried to Saint Germains, & there asked
his Majesty's pardon for them with such a display of
genuine concern that he obtained it.
" Olive 2 loved him as she loved her life, & he loved
her as he loved his own. Still, Mr. Porter, outraged
by a passion that involved so deeply his own honour
& that of his daughter, could not but resolve to break
up the liaison.
" Without telling her what he meditated, he went
up to London, resolved to carry her away, but when
he went for a promenade with one of his friends in
Hyde Park, the first thing he beheld was Olive in her
lover's carriage.
" This encounter excited all his wrath, & he could
no longer defer the effects of his vengeance. Sword
in hand, he flung himself out of his carriage, & ran to
that in which she was ; it was his intention to kill her
without mercy ; but the coachman, alarmed, whipped
his horses to a gallop, & this preserved her from a
certain death.
" The Earl of Devonshire 3 having learned of this,
had fears that the results of a resentment at once so
legitimate & so violent might recoil on the head of
My Lord Cavendish. He went in search of Olive,
who was still terrified at her father's fury. He pro-
mised her a handsome pension if she would break off
all relations with his son. He brought home to her
1 Louis XIV., b. 1638, d. 1713.
* We have been unable to obtain any particulars of this lady. In the
English version she is called Olympia.
* William, third Earl of Devonshire, b. 1617, m. April 10, 1608,
Christian, daughter of first Lord Bruce of Kinloss ; she died June 16,
1664 ; he died 1684.
244
COURT OF ENGLAND
the danger that they both ran if they continued to
meet, until finally she made up her mind, & left secretly
for France.
" Ever afterwards he fulfilled his promise & took care
of her.
" I will not stop to relate to you the grief of My Lord
Cavendish ; he was an amiable lover ; but his tears
at the loss of a Mistress were soon dried by her suc-
cessor, who did not become less dear to him.
" With regard to Porter, he went home to Dr.
Fraizer, with whom he always lived when he came to
London. This able Physician had for some time at-
tended the Duchess of Richmond.
" That night Mr. Howard was taken with an apo-
plexy, which reduced his wife and all his house to
despair. After she had sent about 20 valets in search
of aid the Duchess grew so impatient, & was so upset,
that she seized a torch in her hand, &, not pausing to
reflect what people would think, at seeing anyone like
herself in the streets, with nothing on save a nightgown
and slippers, ( not even stockings) she hurried off
to the Doctor's House.
" Those of her people who had preceded her had
already arrived, & the door was unbarred ; therefore
the Duchess entered without knocking, and in the
trouble she was she opened the first Room in which
she found a key.
" At the noise she made, Porter, who was in bed,
opened his curtains, & never was a man more sur-
prised than he when the Duchess, nearly naked,
entered at such an extraordinary hour & at a time
when she must be thinking so little of him.
" He wondered, a thousand times, if she were dead
and if she came to make some last request.
" * If souls when they are separated from their
bodies have a perfect knowledge of all that happens,'
245
MEMOIRS OF THE
he thought, c this one hath discovered at the bottom
of my heart the ineffaceable marks she hath engraved
there. She chooses me amongst those who have loved
her as the one who loved her the most.' But apart
from the fact that his faith in ghosts was not very
strong, he found it difficult to credit that the Duchess
could look so beautiful after death ; the vivacity of
her eyes, the colour of her face, her blonde hair,
of which the curls escaped from under her night-cap ;
her majestic carriage ; above all the tone of her voice,
which vibrated alike on his heart & his ears when
she spoke ; all these I say belonged to the living rather
than the dead. He said nothing, in his wonder & con-
fusion, as rushing forward to embrace him : * Ha, Dr.
Fraizer,' she cried, ' is it possible that you sleep while
poor Mr. Howard is in extremity ? Come with me, in
the name of God, come ! Do not let us lose an instant.'
" Porter, in his turn, took her in his arms. * Ah
cruel & barbarous Duchess,' he said, ' you whom
fortune gives me to achieve a just vengeance over
your mistakes. Do not think for one moment I
intend losing this favourable occasion.'
" On recognising Porter she was at first transfixed.
Then her presence of mind came to her aid.
" ' What ! ' she said, ' you would displease me, &
obtain by force, what you should expect to be yielded
to your merit ? Frankly your perseverance has
touched me, & your respect will complete your success
in captivating my heart. You see where duty calls
me. My husband is dying, do not detain me any
longer, and rest assured that the proof of your respect
will touch me more sensibly, than if you were to put
a crown on my head. But, I warn you, if you are
capable of forgetting what you owe me I shall become
furious, & my repeated cries will soon draw sufficient
help to tear me from your grasp.'
246
COURT OF ENGLAND
" Porter, flattered on one side & menaced on the
other, was the most irresolute of men. He feared
much if he let the Duchess escape he would lose an
opportunity difficult to recover ; on the other hand
he feared the noise & the uproar, & most of all did he
dread to displease her. He assured her that, rather
than anger her, rather than enjoy the bliss he might
obtain in spite of her, he preferred to yield to her
will.
" Profiting by this becoming disposition the Duchess
immediately quitted the room, & meeting Dr. Fraizer
as he was descending from his, she compelled him to
hasten home with her.
" As soon as Porter had lost sight of her, he began
to repent of his obedience. ' Could anything worse
have happened to me ? ' he cried, * she has left me, the
inexorable one, & has gone to mock with all the world
at my submission.'
" What he foresaw did not fail to arrive. The
Duchess related her adventure to her sister-in-law
the Duchess of Buckingham, she to another ! Until
all the Court spoke of nothing save the passion of
Porter & one & all, as far as they had the ingenuity,
held it up to ridicule. Porter was in despair. Having
learned that the Duchess was going to Windsor with
some Ladies he also proceeded thither with the reso-
lution to reproach her for the outrage he considered
he had suffered. But how great is the charm of
beautiful eyes ! Hardly had she turned hers on
him with a kinder expression than the one she ordi-
narily reserved for him, than he found himself almost
happy ! He renounced the Country ; he came to
Court ; & now he is more the Courtier than he
ever was in the past. But still the Duchess continues
to torment him without mercy. He pretends that
vexation has cured him ; but I think his very anger
247
COURT OF ENGLAND
is love & that notwithstanding all he professes to the
contrary he still loves her."
" And, I," said the Duke of Buckingham, " do not
think so. But in truth have you no shame in having
related so long a history ? I thought you would finish
in four words, & you have now been speaking an hour.
Although it was very well, I think you should have
made it a little shorter."
" It rested with you to silence me if I fatigued you,"
replied My Lord Saint Albans coldly, " another time
when I speak to you I shall not forget the lesson you
have just taught me."
" You disconcert me," said the Duke, interrupting
him, " and you take my advice too emphatically.
Cannot you see I am only jesting. For your punish-
ment," he continued, " I shall go on with my own dis-
course ; but I declare I no longer know where I was
unless you can assist me a little on my way."
" You were on the point of going with the Duchess
of Buckingham, & Dona Maria de Mendosa to Sion-
hill," said My Lord of Saint Albans, " & you can fix
where you were from that outing."
" Quite true," said the Duke. " My wife desired
me to do the honours of this Feast, so that she should
be hospitable without it costing her anything ; for
though I allow her a pension of thirty thousand crowns
for her clothing & other expenses she may incur, (a
sum so considerable that they hardly give it to a
Princess of the Blood) she never fails to make numerous
demands on my purse."
" When one has eight hundred thousand pounds of
rent, as you have," observed My Lord Saint Albans,
" it cannot be better spent than in this way, & it
would be ridiculous, if being, as you are, one of the
greatest Lords in England, your wife were not one
of the most magnificent women of the Court."
248
CHAPTER XXXV
" "IT T occurred to me," continued the Duke,
" that the little expedition to Sion-hill
would be more agreeable by water than by
JL- land. I had the Barges furnished with all
that was lavish, the rowers were attired as Moors, or
Indians, as Turks, Persians, Slaves or Savages, these
different dresses being designed to amuse the Company.
On either side of our barge were two painted & gilded
boats one filled with shepherds & shepherdesses who
sang us pastoral songs ; the other with syrens and
nymphs who played on the flute & oboe. Everywhere
there was a profusion of flowers, & the day was so fine
as to give us infinite delight.
" The young Mendosa had never seen a Fete that
commenced better. Whilst we were on the water I
spoke to her on every occasion when I could, without
it appearing marked, & I noticed that in replying to me
she blushed, & that she lowered her eyes every time
that I looked at her, but when I appeared occupied
by other things, her regard was fixed on me. On the
river were many little skiffs which I had expressly
ordered. They only held two passengers. The ladies
wished at first to be together, but we opposed this,
and eventually each Cavalier took a Lady. I managed
the arrangements so skilfully that Mendosa fell to my
share. As Sion-hill is about half a league up the river
all I could do, in order to prolong my time with her,
was to command that they should proceed very slowly,
249
MEMOIRS OF THE
for fear if we lingered behind the rest, of it causing
comment. The other little Skiffs proceeded at the
same rate, the Flutes & the Violins accompanying us.
But will you be surprised when I tell you ? I was so
timid, & so confounded, that I did not dare to profit
by the favourable moment to speak to the beautiful
Portuguese. She, on her part, was silent, because, in
her Country, occasions, like this are not nearly so
usual as in ours ; it is also most rare that girls get an
opportunity of escaping, also she did not know how to
account for a silence that my eyes had already contra-
dicted.
" ' You are very dreamy,' she said at last with a
melancholy smile. ' No doubt, my lord, you are
occupied with great matters which the King has con-
fided to your charge.'
" * When one is beside you,' I replied, ' one ceases
to care about affairs of State. I have, Madam, to do
with what concerns me much more sensibly, but I
fear to displease you.'
" Mendosa did not reply. Changing her discourse
she spoke of the beautiful weather, & other indifferent
things.
"I was astonished that, having offered her an
opening to declare my sentiments, she should be so
indifferent.
" Arrived at my house, I can assure you that every-
thing was excellently arranged. Never was there
feast better planned nor one more elegant.
" Mendosa, who realised that she was the guest of
honour, felt a pleasure that she could neither suppress
nor hide. Afterwards I walked beside her in the wood
for a long time, and the shadow & the silence gave me
more courage. I began by pressing her to permit
that I should dedicate myself to her service.
" * I do not know,' said she, ' if the custom may be
250
COURT OF ENGLAND
established in this Country, but in mine the Ladies
of the Palace are allowed declared Lovers even if these
last be married, and the former are only Spinsters. 1
They do not neglect to pay them a thousand attentions,
& this passes in the sight of all the Court, without
slander finding anything to criticise. In case this be
the mode here I voluntarily accept you for my Spark,
& am delighted that a person of so much wit & such
distinguished rank wishes to vow himself to me.'
" ' I must tell you, Madam,' replied I, c that we are
1 These convenient customs apparently prevailed also at the Court
of Madrid : " The Queens of Spain have none but widows and maids
about them ; the palace is so full of them, that you can see nothing else
through the lattices (sic), and in the balconies ; and here is one thing
to me seems very singular, which is, that a man, although he be married
is allowed to declare himself the lover or gallant of a lady of the Palace,
and for her sake to commit all the follies, & so to spend all the money he
can, without being in the least blamed for it. You shall see these
gallants in the court, & all the ladies in the Windows ; where it is their
daily employment to discourse with, and entertain one another by the
fingers : for you must know that their hands speak a language that is
perfectly intelligible; & as it might be guessed that it was always
alike, and that the same signs always meant the same things, so they
agree with their mistresses upon certain private signs and actions, which
no one else understands. This kind of love is public ; and a man must
be of a particular sort of wit & humour, dexterously to manage these
intrigues and to be accepted by the ladies, for they are wonderful
delicate & nice. . . . When the Queen goes abroad ... the ladies
go with her ; then the gallants who are on the watch, go on foot by their
coach sides, that they may enjoy their conversation. It is really good
sport to see how these poor lovers dirty themselves but the more dirty
the more gallant. . . . On some solemn days every lady has the privilege
to place by her sides two cavelleros, who put on their hats before their
Majesties, although they are not grandees of Spain ; they are called
Embevecidos, that is, ' Drunk with love,' & they are so transported with
their passion & the pleasure of being near their Mistresses that they
are incapable of minding anything else. They are permitted to be
covered for the same reason madmen are, who understand not their
obligation to decency & good manners." Written September 28,
1 68 1. The Lady's Travels into Spain (by Madame d'Aulnoy). New
edition, vol. ii, pp. 248-252 condensed.
2SI
MEMOIRS OF THE
more delicate here than you are in Portugal, & secretly
confiding a passion is a pleasure that suffices. Pro-
vided our Mistress knows of our sentiments we do not
desire that all the Court shall be informed of it. If
you will allow me to love you I shall not trust the fact
to any one save yourself. Nor will you have occasion
to be dissatisfied with my conduct.'
" For sometime she mused in a silence which was
only broken by a profound sigh.
" ' Ha, Madam ! ' I said at last, ' What does you
silence not tell me ? What does your sigh not inti-
mate ? Do you love in London or do you love at
Lisbon ? I have read a Romance that you confided
to the Duke of Monmouth, & I saw in it things which
a man less interested than I would perhaps have passed
over. I realise also that your charms have found
more than one Adorer at our Court. You must speak
openly with me. I must know my position.'
" ' You are very importunate,' said she, ( I hardly
know you, & you ask me to avow my most secret
thoughts.'
" ' I am an honest man,' I replied, c & as I feel
myself capable of defending all you may tell me, I
conjure you not to hesitate, but to open your heart
to me.'
" c But,' she cried, c will it be a pleasant surprise if
you find yourself already forestalled there ? '
" ' Ha, Madam ! ' said I, falling at her feet, c do not
flatter me with a possibility that can never be realised.
Let me know immediately what I may hope, & what
I may fear ; be sincere to a man who will never fail
in gratitude & tenderness towards you.'
" * What do you wish to know,' she asked, softening,
' something whispers to me I am going to tell you '
" ' Tell me,' I entreated, ' up till now, has any one
had the power to please you ? '
252
COURT OF ENGLAND
" ' Aye ! ' she confessed.
" ' And the happy mortal,' continued I, * is he in
England ? '
" < No,' said she.
" ' Grant then,' I went on, * that he is the same that
Camille loved at Lucca.'
" * It is true,' she owned.
" c Ha, Madam ! ' I cried, * you reduce me to despair.'
" ' But why ? ' she demanded, ' Have you not suffi-
cient merit to destroy a lover at a distance ? '
" ' What is my rival's name ? '
" c Don Alvare,' she answered, 6 His House is illus-
trious, but poor, & its poverty is the cause of it being
so little known. That is what irritated my father so
against him, causing him to beseech the Queen of
England to receive me among her Maids.'
"I thanked her tenderly for her frankness, & the
hope she held out that some day my attentions might
become acceptable : I assure you that I most strenu-
ously set out to realise this end.
" My Lady Norwich could not imagine after I had
loved her so dearly that I should be capable of con-
sidering a fresh passion ; her capricious treatment of
me appeared, in her eyes, to be merely proof of her
ultra refinement ; which I ought, according to her,
to much admire. When she saw that I continued
quiescent & met her with the completest indifference
she decided that the best way to get me back would
be to take a lover of whom I should be apprehensive,
& she chose the Duke of Monmouth ; but the care she
was compelled to exercise on account of her husband
compelled her to take such pains to hide this new in-
trigue that her object was defeated ; for all occupied
as I was with the young Mendosa, I really knew nothing
about it. I had not been altogether successful in
hiding my passion ; the Court began to whisper about
253
COURT OF ENGLAND
it, & Lady Norwich was amongst the first to rally me.
The Queen, 1 being as you know the most virtuous
& severe Princess in the World, did not neglect to
speak to Mendosa, to tell her of the perils she ran in
seeing me & listening to me.
" ' You are young & innocent,' said she, c you have
birth and accomplishments. You can rest assured as
long as your conduct is as it should be that I will
extend my protection to you, & that if your father
wishes you established in England you may espouse a
great lord. But if you are unhappy enough to love
the Duke of Buckingham to what will you not be
exposed ? He is a married man ; you will be ruined
before all the world ; I shall despise you ; your father
will hate you ; and you will have as much shame as
otherwise you may look for good fortune.'
"To what good purpose serve such remonstrances
when a heart is occupied by a dawning passion ?
Mendosa told me that the Queen gave her a similar
scolding upon every occasion that she showed the least
interest in me, & I could sometimes have prayed that
Her Majesty would plague her oftener, as such re-
proaches always resulted in the increase of her ten-
derness.
" My Lord Argyle, to whom I revealed my heart,
realising how absorbed I was in Mendosa, occasionally
tried to point out to me the sadness my conduct
caused her Majesty ; but it was too late for such re-
flections to have much influence over either my mind
or my heart ; thus it fell out that Mendosa & myself
were equally censured."
* Queen Catherine of Braganc.a was born on the anniversary of the
birth of her Royal Mother-in-law, November 25, 1638, m. Thursday,
May 21, 1662, d. December 31, 1705
254
CHAPTER XXXVI
NE day, when I had missed seeing her,
she wrote to say she had an important
matter to communicate to me. I
immediately went in search of her &
I remarked in her face a certain despondency.
" * I will not conceal from you a thing of vital con-
cern to us both,' she said. ' Know my lord, that
Don Alvare is here ! I have never been more surprised
or disconcerted in my life ! He tells me, that having
discovered that my father had sent me into England,
his only thought was to follow me. To make the
voyage, & equip him to appear at this Court, he has
sold all his remaining property. Judge of my em-
barrassment. Don Alvare appears to me so different
in London from what I used to think him in Lisbon,
that I can hardly endure the sight of him. It is you
my lord, it is you who are the cause.'
" ' Ha, Madam ! ' I exclaimed, ' do not repent ;
you have not sown seed on ungrateful ground, & I
hope you may never have cause to blame yourself
for the preference you have accorded me over Don
Alvare.'
" c He already suspects it,' she said, ' by my altered
demeanour, & he appeared as troubled, as I am per-
plexed as to what I am to do with him. If I reject him
altogether, and he discovers the cause, he is capable
in his first access of wrath of informing my father ;
& should I continue at this Court, picture what
2SS
MEMOIRS OF THE
surveillance we shall have to evade ! As if I had not
already enough ! '
" I prayed her not to distress herself, & that I would
think what was best to be done.
" Going into the King's audience chamber I found
Don Alvare 1 who had just been presented by the
Queen, although I was naturally prejudiced against
him I must confess that he appeared to be admirably
well made, but," he turned to My Lord Saint Albans,
" As you have seen him I will not say any more about
his appearance or his merit. I could also dispense
with relating the course of an adventure that you know
almost as well as I do were it not that I want My
Lord Arran who was in Ireland at the time, to
know.
" I approached Don Alvare ; I spoke to him. 2
He explained that he had been travelling for some
months, and that our Court appeared to be the most
magnificent in Europe, & that he would certainly
have had much to reproach himself with had he not
seen it. He concluded by saying that though he had
only arrived two days before he was so pleased with
what he had seen that he intended staying longer
than at any of the others.
" You may easily judge that my reply and my secret
1 We have been unsuccessful in tracing Don Alvare, beyond the fact
that a Portuguese nobleman of that name was witness to the Queen's
will. See Catherine of Bragana, by Lillias Campbell Davidson,
1908, p. 491.
Miss Davidson in a courteous reply to our enquiries, was not able to
throw any light on either the Don or Dona Maria, nor does the latter's
name figure in the lists of her Majesty's household printed annually in
Chamberlyne's Angliee Notitits. We may add that these lists are
often fragmentary, the names of the holders of the various offices being
left blank.
8 Probably in Spanish, of which language Buckingham had a fluent
command. Spanish was the medium usually employed by the English
and the Portuguese.
256
COURT OF ENGLAND
thoughts did not correspond. All the rest of the day
I was considering how best to get rid of him, but
Strangers are somehow sacred to me, & I could not
resolve to take any proceeding to injure a man who,
in spite of all, so attracted me ; & his circumstances,
in that he had no rights in England, added to my
interest. The fact that he sold all his property to
follow an unfaithful Mistress, who could not endure
him, aroused my pity, & made it very difficult for
me to decide to oppose him.
" Mendosa, who was very energetic, did not omit
in the next conversation I had with her to ask if I had
made any endeavour to aid her to escape from the
entanglements in which she found herself. I said
that I was doing everything, but some days must pass
in order that my plan should appear natural.
" ' Mon Dieu ! ' she said, 6 how I contemn you for
so little fearing the loss of my heart. You have no
hatred of Don Alvare, on the contrary you have had
the hardihood to praise him in my presence. What a
laggard you are in a matter that should be sacred to
you.'
" These reproaches profoundly stirred me. ' What,'
I exclaimed, c you accuse me of wanting in delicacy
& respect for you ? Is it possible that you wish to
doubt my sentiments, or that you have so little know-
ledge of them ? It is a fact that I trust in your fidelity
towards me, but that is because of my general high
opinion of you ; it appears however that what I regard
as a subject for congratulation, you regard as one for a
dispute. Would you desire I should be suspicious of
the very man whom for my sake you sacrificed ? '
" ' Yes, I would,' she cried, " & had you been born
in Portugal you would not have awaited my remon-
strances ere displaying the most violent jealousy.
You have too much presumption, my lord ; you assume
R 257
MEMOIRS OF THE
that one cannot weary of you. Learn that people
make mistakes sometimes.'
" I was much surprised at what she said.
" * Do you wish to break my heart, Madam ? ' I
asked. c What have I done to merit these cruel
menaces ? And as the presence of Don Alvare is so
odious to you, suffer me to measure my sword with
his. Perhaps I shall be happy enough to deliver you
from him.'
" ' God forbid ! ' she cried, ' your days are too dear
to me for them to be endangered at any time. But
leave it to me ; I will find a means to make him go.'
She would not explain her intentions any further.
" A month passed.
" During this time she did not show any coldness
to the Don, or give any indication of the cruel trick
she intended to play him ; on the contrary she dis-
played so much friendship towards him, & he was so
gay in consequence that I did begin to feel jealousy,
& upon several occasions reproached Mendosa. She
received this laughingly, like a person who was not
angry.
" There was much talk about then at Court of a
Merchantman which had arrived from the Indies
laden with the richest wares. Every one went to buy.
Mendosa having first informed herself of the day the
ship would sail again, sent to enquire for the Captain.
She made a point of having Don Alvare in her room
when he came. The captain spoke French which
Don Alvare did not, & consequently she was able to
speak with him quite privately. She requested him
to observe Don Alvare with attention. * Here,' said
she, ' is a slave whom I have bought. He has become
so insolent that I can do nothing with him ; as you
see, he even presumes to sit down in my presence,
and make himself familiar, as though he were not a
258
COURT OF ENGLAND
sorry wretch that I have dragged from the irons, &
could send back when I pleased. If you like I will
sell him to you cheap ; you will take him away with
you, & do as you like with him. If, however, you take
him by force, England being a free Country, there
may perhaps be some tumult. I can send him to
you on board, & you can keep him.'
" The Indiaman's Captain willingly agreed to all
Mendosa proposed. They thereupon clinched the
bargain, & it was arranged that she should hand over
Don Alvare the next day.
" After this she told the Don she was going to the
ship as she wished to buy some Chinese Stuffs, & other
curiosities, & that she would take only him & two
serving women with her. The Don was delighted.
" On the next day they set out from Whitehall,
& I have heard since from one of these Portuguese
that no one could have made a greater fuss than she
did over her unfortunate lover.
" Large ships are never near enough to the shore
for one to board them without chartering a boat, and
so soon as they had taken their places in one Mendosa
cried out that she was sure the motion of the water
would make her ill, & appeared terribly agitated.
She then prayed Don Alvare to make her purchases
for her, she even endeavoured to give him the money ;
but although, on account of her, he desired to husband
his purse, being in a strange Country, & having nothing
left in his own, he loved her so dearly that he decided
to profit by this opportunity & purchase her the most
magnificent present he could obtain.
" Attended by her women she took up a position
on a rock which rose high at the water's edge from
which place she could plainly see all that passed on
the Indian Merchantman.
" The instant that Don Alvare was aboard the
259
MEMOIRS OF THE
Captain sent back the shallop in which he had come,
informing him at the same time that he had bought
him from Mendosa, & that he was now his slave.
" I will leave you to imagine his surprise & rage.
He protested quite uselessly that Mendosa had no
power over him, they refused to listen, & he was in
such reckless despair that he drew his sword determined
to sell his life dearly. But his opponents were too
many ; they threw themselves upon him & he was
clapped into irons like a criminal.
" With this scene, so deserving of pity, passing again
& again before her eyes Mendosa, returned to London,
& advised me that I was to come in search of her.
I then learned from her all I have been telling you,
learned it with an astonishment so extreme that I could
find no words in which to express myself.
" ' What ! ' I thought, c canst thou 1 Mendosa push
thy aversion to such an extremity against a man who
was once dear to thee, & who has committed no other
crime save that of faithfully loving thee & following
thee ? What ! canst thou barter an unhappy lover
who, in order to prove his passion for thee, has parted
with everything he possessed ? Without the slightest
reason for anger thou hast done him more evil than if
he had been thy most remorseless enemy.'
My silence surprised Mendosa, & as she is observant,
& the vivacity of her mind was always joined to a
marvellous intuition of all my thoughts, she knew
at once, & before I had time to recover my wits
sufficiently to make an answer, what had pained
me.
" Ha ! ' she cried, c I well see that the rival is dearer
than the Mistress. What I have just done should be
a substantial sign of the preference I give you over
1 Second person singular here used in contempt to show the superiority
of the speaker. See Note, p. 56.
260
COURT OF ENGLAND
Don Alvare, & far from being pleased, & instead of
expressing gratitude to me you pity him. 9
66 ' Ha, Madam ! ' I cried, ' were there no other
means of getting rid of him than to banish him to the
Indies ? Ought you to have given such a heavy
chain to the man who rejoiced in yours ? How could
you see him in weighty irons, so little deserved, without
some compassion ? What will be his fate ? He has
courage & lineage ; these qualities alone, if for no
other reason, should have hindered your design.
Why, as you have confided the result to me, did you
not consult me in the commencement of this affair ? '
" Mendosa well knew that I highly disapproved of
her bad heart ; but she considered herself outraged
in getting such little sympathy from me. Instead of
applauding I blamed her, & with so much candour
that the anger and displeasure she conceived against
me made her feel as if she was about to die on that spot.
There was not one hard truth she omitted to say to
me, & she would have continued had not her vocal
chords failed her !
" I left her quite as much dissatisfied with herself
as she was with me*. To her, remedies were promptly
applied, whilst on my side, I sent with all haste to
the East Indiaman to rescue Don Alvare. Unhappily
it had already set sail & my care for his liberty was
useless.
" Try as I might I could not conceal from Mendosa
the pain I suffered at discovering how hardhearted she
was. I could not sufficiently blame myself that I
had not used every endeavour to persuade her to share
her secret intention with me. For another reason,
My Lady Norwich, who wished to see me once more
her slave, never met me without showing me some
civility, to which, up till then, I had not responded ;
but as my passion for the Portuguese began to diminish
261
MEMOIRS OF THE
I found her predecessor was insensibly retrieving her
old position, & I avow that my own situation became
most unenviable. Obliged on the one hand to shun
a person who shamefully misdoubted me, obliged on
the other to seek one who had in her own eyes done
everything possible for me by sacrificing Don Alvare
to the Indians, in the commencement I suffered
much. For the one I had in my heart no longer the
same indifference and for the other, whom I had
formerly respected as I do my own name, I had no
longer the same inclination. Fortunately my em-
barrassments were terminated by a thing which freed
me from all fear.
" I have explained how Mendosa took only her
women with her when she sent Don Alvare on board
the Indian Vessel ; they were alike surprised & con-
cerned at his fate ; but although their Mistress
commanded them with the utmost sternness to men-
tion to no one what had happened, & they had
promised, their fidelity lasted only as long as a perfect
understanding existed. This understanding came to
an end, when Mendosa for some trivial matter ill-
used them ; & no more was wanted to make them
speak.
" All the Court learned what had happened. The
Queen in particular, Don Alvare being a Portuguese,
was exceedingly indignant with Mendosa ; & as her
conduct had already displeased her on several occasions
she did not wish that she should any longer enjoy
the honour of being about her. So, without giving
more than a few days' notice, she sent her aboard
a vessel bound for Lisbon, with the intention of re-
turning her to her Father. But Mendosa, who feared
alike the steel & the poison of her own country, found
a means of escaping from the ship. She returned to
London under an alias, and married a man of such
262
COURT OF ENGLAND
obscure birth that for a long time the Court ignored
her. 1
1 In 1666 Maria de Mendosa, " an alien born within the Kingdome
of Portugall," petitioned for naturalisation, which was granted on
May 1 8 of that year. The original document may be seen at the
Record Office and the autograph is very interesting. The central
stroke of the M is of peculiar and unusual length and emphasis.
The sign is attributed by graphologists to a low form of ostenta-
tious conceit approaching insanity. Dom. S.P. Car. II. Vol. CXLII,
item 63, and Ent. book, 23, p. 183.
263
CHAPTER XXXVII
" /^^ UCH a termination to my adventures would
^^^ have caused me infinite sadness if I had
^^ not previously discovered what a bad
k^_^ heart Mendosa possessed ; because, my
lord, you know that she was infinitely amiable, & that
all her ways had something mysteriously attractive
against which it was difficult to defend oneself ; but
things being as they were I let her go with a dry eye,
& my one thought was to re-enter the good graces
of My Lady Norwich. The Duke of Monmouth,
with whom she had established a secret understanding,
wearying of an intrigue about which he was compelled
to keep silent, freed himself from a thraldom that
appeared to him alike weary & tedious ; & she, learn-
ing of his inconstancy, was delighted to give me an
occasion to justify my own.
" I confessed to her that I had in good faith loved
Mendosa, but that she herself had driven me into the
entanglement ; because it seemed the only remedy
whereby I might be cured of my passion for her.
I asked if she would without prejudice, examine her
summary treatment of me at Tunbridge. She ad-
mitted, that to keep a lover faithful one should
adopt milder methods, but reproached me in turn,
for the hastiness with which I had left her in the
Wood.
" ' Whether I was right or wrong,' she said, ' you
might have been more pliant, & convinced me by your
264
COURT OF ENGLAND
submission of the passion of which you had made so
many vows.'
" I asked her pardon ; I cleared myself of the tale
they had invented about the Comtesse de Grimbergue ;
she in turn made some obliging excuses ; & our
hearts were again united in such a complete under-
standing, that apparently there was not a single subject
which we had to complain of in each other.
" So matters continued until yesterday, when,
after I had done everything to prevent her husband
taking her to Holland, she received me in her Chamber
as coldly as if she had never known me ! Perhaps
she repents of having rejected the protestations of
the King ; perhaps those of the Duke of Monmouth
appear in another light ; or perhaps My Lord Russell
has found out how to please her ; it is certain that
I have every reason to complain, & that I shall neglect
no occasion whereby I may be avenged."
The Duke ceased, & my lord regarded him atten-
tively. " Is it possible," said he, " that you are so
offended over a trifle ? You may still suppose that
the lady was not wrong ; she may have had insur-
mountable reasons for her behaviour ; you must not
condemn her altogether without hearing her."
" Were I in a similar situation," cried My Lord
Arran, " I should consider myself the happiest of
men, but after what I have just seen I have not even
the privilege of doubting."
" And what have you just seen ? " demanded My
Lord St. Albans.
" An instance of perfidy without parallel ! A for-
saking, alike of propriety and fidelity ; something
horrible ! Imagine the Duke of Monmouth, in a
basket, supported by cords ; this fine equipage was
descending from the window of Emilie "
" What ! The constant Emilie has played you this
265
MEMOIRS OF THE
shabby trick ? " interrupted the Duke of Buckingham,
roaring with laughter.
" I am sufficiently miserable to have witnessed it,"
cried his nephew. " Judge after that if your trouble
is equal to mine, & if I am not a thousand times more
deserving of pity than you."
" I am sorry for your vexation," said the Duke,
" but you deserve it, my Nephew. You were loved
by Miledy . . . ; she well merited your attachment ;
you were wanting in faith to her, and are now sur-
prised that another is wanting in the same to you."
" Ha ! My Lord Duke," exclaimed the other im-
patiently, " you preach morality to me when you have
never practised it yourself. I know how many
Mistresses you have abandoned without just cause,
even as you had loved them without reason."
" What is that you say ? " cried the Duke, " / have
abandoned many mistresses without having just cause, W
/ have loved them without reason ? It seems to me
if there was no reason to love them I had sufficient
reason to leave them ! "
" You will pardon me," said my lord, " but you
have repeatedly engaged your heart to persons who
could not expect to make such a magnificent con-
quest. Still you have persuaded them of your attach-
ment, making many protestations, until they yielded
to their desire to believe you, & love you. Hardly
were you certain of their hearts than you tossed them
away. This proves that you loved them without
cause, & abandoned them without reason. Admit
likewise that you would neither have done the one
nor the other if you had realised what was involved.
This is what justifies me in regard to Miledy. . .
I have felt an extreme tenderness for her which, despite
all my efforts, insensibly waned, nor was I any longer
capable of interesting myself in her affairs.
266
COURT OF ENGLAND
" Knowing all that was passing in my heart she be-
came bitter & morose ; hardly was one reconciliation
effected than I found myself forced to sue for another ;
my heart revolted against my will. Then the fatal
Emilie, with her dangerous charms came, & she has
placed me in the saddest plight it is possible to find
oneself."
" You are so amorous & so weak," interrupted My
Lord Saint Albans, " that I will wager that it is a
certainty that if she only took the trouble she would
speedily have you in durance with more empire over
you than ever."
" No," cried the afflicted lover, crumpling up his
hat & aiming it, with all his force at the table " No,
never while I live ! "
The blow my lord had intended for the table,
(which was covered by a cloth) descended upon a
large ebony case ornamented with mirrors. This was
knocked clean over & the mirrors were smashed to
smithereens. My Lord Saint Albans appeared upset,
but My Lord Arran was much more so, at his violence
being the cause of such a disaster.
At this point the Duke of Buckingham approached,
and recognised the bust in wax of My Lord Oxford,
which was enclosed in the case.
" By what chance," he demanded, " have you this
Likeness ? "
" It came to me in a very singular manner," replied
his host. " To inform you but there, you are the
enemy of episodes, and I do not think I had better
trouble you."
" Do you know, my lord," interrupted the Duke,
" you take things a great deal too literally, & you are
very unjust to deprive your friends of the liberty of
teasing you. Do you think I have such bad taste
as not to be delighted to listen to you "
267
COURT OF ENGLAND
" I am much flattered to believe you," said the
other ; " whatever reasons I have to doubt I cannot
yield to them ; and without making any very long
reflections I will now recount a story which you only
know by hearsay but which I am better acquainted
with than anyone because of the close ties that bound
me to My Lord Oxford, and as My Lord Arran is too
young to remember anything I shall not omit any
important detail."
268
CHAPTER XXXVIII
" Tj A VERY one is aware that My Lord Oxford 1
LJ is one of the most amiable and handsome
* men of the Court ; to noble birth he
-^ ^ joins considerable wealth, and his libe-
rality amounts to profusion. We used to be such inti-
mate friends that when people saw us together they
called us Castor and Pollux.
" A celebrated author had written a tragedy entitled
Ibrahim, and the players gave it remarkably well ;
but amongst the rest she who represented Roxaline
surpassed herself to such a degree that when My
Lord Oxford & I went to see the play we were simply
enchanted. I noticed that his praises of this Actress,
whom every one now spoke of as Roxaline, were even
louder than mine. 2
" Few equalled her either in beauty or majesty.
My lord expressed himself astonished at having
hitherto been indifferent to her, and from that moment
made up his mind to love her.
" The King went to see this Play, and afterwards
he commanded that Roxaline should present herself
at Whitehall in order to recite before him the most
beautiful passages of her role. It was My Lord
Oxford who hastened to take her this command, &
1 Aubrey de Vere, twentieth and last Earl of Oxford, a ward of King
Charles I., b. 1622, d. March 1702-1703. He is buried in Westminster
Abbey.
8 See Appendix C.
269
MEMOIRS OF THE
at the same time he offered her the use of his Carriage
to convey her to the palace. This she accepted. She
was accompanied by one of her friends, and all four
of us presented ourselves in the room in which the
King was to sup. During the drive my lord had so
many things to say that he hardly ceased speaking,
and I avow you that I could barely restrain my amuse-
ment ; for Roxaline's friend being old and stupid I
preferred silence to conversing with her, & so had
ample opportunity to observe this budding passion.
"Roxaline recited before the King with such charm
that all were agreed she had no need to be in a theatre,
nor to be dressed as a Queen to win the praises & the
hearts of her audience.
" My Lord Oxford escorted her home, & asked per-
mission to see her sometimes. She replied that she
felt greatly honoured, but a girl such as she could never
receive a man of his rank without it giving scandal.
He assured her that whatever pleasure he might take
in going often to pay her his addresses he would be very
discreet, & she should have no occasion to reproach
him.
"He came the next day to me, & so infatuated with
Roxaline was he that he could not speak of anything
else. I saw fully he was thoroughly involved in the
affair, & I had heard enough of her to divine the chaste
attitude in which she would hold herself in regard to
him.
" ' If you will be guided by me,' I said, c you will
endeavour to control your infatuation for this girl,
who will lead you a pretty dance.'
" * Eh ! what harm can happen to me in such an
attachment ? ' he demanded. ' If she desires to be
magnificent I will give her everything her heart can
wish for ; if it is her idea to leave the stage, I will make
her very happy, & shall hold her in the highest esteem.'
270
COURT OF ENGLAND
" ' I have had her described to me as a very dis-
interested person ; it is her idea to settle down on a
modest scale by marrying ; and there are plenty of
people whom she has persuaded a good way towards
this end.'
" My lord, with a burst of laughter proposed I
should accompany him to the Play, & to this I willingly
agreed. He found occasion to approach Roxaline &
pay court to her. Afterwards he went to see her,
and the declaration of his love was accompanied by a
rich present. With the air and the tone of a Queen
she refused both, and assured him that had he known
her better he would not have sought the way to her
heart by liberalities which would not have any effect
with her.
" My lord replied with much respect & politeness,
though he was exceedingly disconcerted to find her so
dignified as to decline his gift ; a woman interested
being surely a much easier quarry than one who is not.
" He came to me to give an account of what had
passed.
" ' You must admit/ I said, * that I have a suffi-
ciently good memory, & if you will take my advice
you will not approach her again.'
" ' It is too late,' he cried. * I love her with far
too fervent a passion to renounce all the delights I
have promised myself in my eventual intimacy with
her. I may find more difficulty in my way than I
looked for when she first attracted me, but love &
perseverance can overcome everything.'
" ' You may add to that,' replied I, ' your worth,
& the many fine qualities that you have. Roxaline
will do you justice. I only wished to advise you for
the best.'
" We separated.
" As time passed on I noticed that I saw less of
271
MEMOIRS OF THE
him than formerly ; not that there was any coldness
between us, but he was so attached to the girl that he
could not leave her without pain, & as I had affairs
that called me elsewhere than into her neighbourhood
it happened that my lord & I rarely met.
" But one evening he called on me, & it struck me
that his air and manner alike were those of a man much
annoyed, which as a matter of fact he was. He told
me that Roxaline treated him with an even greater
obduracy than on the first day that he had seen her.
But half an hour before she had declared that she would
not receive him any more at her house unless he would
marry her.
" ' Judge,' he said, ' of the embarrassment into which
she plunges me. I love her as my life ; I cannot
exist without seeing her, but the condition she imposes
is so inexorable that sooner than agree I would
die. Therefore I conjure you to advise me what to
do.'.
" ' The situation is most unfortunate,' I observed.
c Were your honour less dear to me I would immedi-
ately decide for the marriage.'
" ' You do not then decide for it ? ' he interrupted.
" c Assuredly no, 9 I replied. ' And you yourself,'
I continued, * what are your views ? '
" * I have already expounded them,' he replied.
6 I would sooner run my sword through my body.'
" I embraced him, admonishing him to remember
this resolution. c Because,' I said, ' it would indeed
be a lovely sight to see Roxaline your wife & the
second countess in England.'
" 4 Do not let us ever speak of such a thing,' he
replied with a shudder. * She never shall be that
her life through.'
" For eight days I remained without seeing him ;
then one day as I was walking in St. James's Park, I
272
COURT OF ENGLAND
met him, he was with two men of ruffianly aspect. On
catching sight of me he quitted them & came across.
" * Hallo ! ' said I, ' how waggeth your lovelorn
case ? '
" < Well,' he replied. < At least I think so. I will
confess everything to you, so that you may know both
my situation and my intention. For three months I
have been doing everything to touch Roxaline's heart,
and labour, care, and generosity have alike been useless.
Her humour, as uncertain as though she were in fact
the Sultana whose name she bears, hath not permitted
her to accord me one mark of tenderness. I cannot
pursue this affair as though I were dealing with a
person of quality, & I have resolved that this evening,
as she leaves the Theatre, I will carry her off. I shall
take her into the country, & when she is at my place
I shall easily find a way to bring her to reason. Those
men you saw me speaking to are to assist me in exe-
cuting this plan.'
" I was so astonished that at first I could not speak.
" c Why are you silent ? ' he demanded. ' Is it
because you disapprove ? '
" ' I am too fond of you,' I said at last, ' to approve
of such a violent & unfair action. One should never
wish anything of a woman but what she is willing to
accord. Is it possible that you would obtain the
remotest gratification or enjoyment from the use of
privileges which you had seized in order to ravish her
against her will ? Believe me that a love that is
tender and sincere brings with it a thousand blisses
for the heart & mind ; but the indulgence of a fierce
& brutal passion is, to an honest man, so immediately
succeeded by such stinging remorse that he is com-
pletely robbed of the enjoyment which he had pro-
mised himself ' '
" ' Is it possible that you think me capable of such
s 273
COURT OF ENGLAND
repentance ? ' demanded my friend. ' It is more
characteristic of the weakness of woman, than the
courage of a man. All I care for is to satisfy myself,
and when I have done that, I shall not trouble my
head any further about this actress?
" < You labour under a great delusion,' I replied, ' if
you think you will obtain any satisfaction from her
whom you love, against her will. Force may make
you master of her person, but unless you command her
heart how miserable you will be ! Believe me, my
lord, it is better to spend your time about her, better
to sigh & shed tears at her knees, than to anger her
by conduct so opposed to that of a real lover.'
" What I said on this subject made so strong an
impression on his mind that he relinquished his plans.
He assured me he would abandon them & renew his
entreaties & assiduities. In addition, he prayed me
to go and see her, and say what I could for him. I
was delighted to agree to do so, for it appeared that
the affability with which he had taken my advice
well-merited that I should do all I could for him.
" I hastened to betake myself to the house of the
girl ; the more I knew her the more I admired her
worth and wit. I was not long in confirming my pre-
vious notion that it was her wish to marry, & that she
did not want a lover, however desirable. Although
I had the more respect for her I profoundly pitied my
poor infatuated friend."
274
CHAPTER XXXIX
^HUS eight months passed away without
any relaxation upon the part of the
Actress. Nothing was more affable than
her friendship, but that is as far as it
went.
" Whenever his lordship attempted the least famili-
arity she would forbid him to see her, telling him that
unless he was prepared to marry her those principles
of honesty & virtue which he had hitherto found in
her would never alter.
" In the end he gave in, binding her by a thousand
oaths to keep it a secret from me, as I, being so opposed
to his taking such a step, would not omit a single
argument that might deter him. She promised all
he wished ; but her joy was so great that it was im-
possible to hide it, & she could not resist confiding
in me, at the same time praying me, in the name of
God, not to interfere & spoil her life.
" ' In truth, beautiful Roxaline,' I replied, < I do
not consider my lord wise to go against my advice
in this ; but I am not his father, neither am I his
tutor ; I am only his friend, & not in a position to
control his actions. It is indeed easiest for me to be
silent, & make no comment on what he is doing for
you.'
" The Contract was drawn up, and it was arranged
between them that no one save those absolutely in-
dispensable to the marriage should be taken into their
275
MEMOIRS OF THE
confidence. He proposed they should go into the
country for its celebration ; but, as though she had
a presentiment of what was about to happen, she told
him she would much prefer not to leave London. After
some dispute he consented to this, and married her
in his own house.
" The ceremony over he pressed eagerly toward the
summit of his bliss. It seemed to him that never did
a man know such joy.
" The night passed ; it was morning & she was
asleep. He pushed her, rather rudely, & said : * Wake
up ! Wake up, Roxaline, it is time for you to go ! '
" She turned, & stared at him. ' Why do you call
me Roxaline, my lord,' said she, ' have I not the honour
to-day of being the Countess of Oxford ? '
" * Indeed you have not,' he replied. ' I have not
married you ! And to explain the mystery, know
that it was my Groom of the Chambers in disguise,
who, last evening, read the ceremony at our pretended
marriage ! '
" ' Traitor ! ' she screamed, & flung herself at his
neck, seeking, in the access of her despair, sufficient
strength to strangle him, * Traitor ! thou shalt die by
my hand ! '
" Seeing her so overwhelmed with rage, my lord
flung off her arms & promptly escaped from the room.
She sprang from the bed ; on the table was his sword ;
she drew it from its scabbard, & rushed after him
as far as the great Salle, of which he slammed & locked
the door. Then Roxaline, unable to get at the object
of her fury, turned upon herself. She tore out her
hair, she clawed her face, she uttered shrieks of lamenta-
tion. She made such a piteous outcry that her
* husband's ' heart might well have been softened.
Finally, he not appearing, she decided to kill herself,
and turned towards her own bosom the sword she had
276
COURT OF ENGLAND
drawn against the perfidious lord. She struck home
with such force that she would have certainly ended
her life, had not her hand (so little skilled in offices
of this nature,) trembled in making the pass, so that
the sword slipped aside, and gave her, what was indeed
a severe flesh wound, but not a vital one.
" She fell, bathed in her own blood. My lord, who
had been observing her from a spot where he could
not be seen l was touched with compassion and
quickly summoned assistance. They immediately
carried her home, & it was at the moment of her
arrival there, that, impatient to know what was pass-
ing, I arrived.
" What did I feel when having followed her in I
saw her exhausted & apparently dying & supported
by many persons who laid her gently on her bed.
" ' Ha ! my lord/ she cried faintly, catching sight
of me, * come and learn from my own lips of my
misfortune & the perfidies of a monster no longer
worthy to see the light of day ! '
" With sobs and tears she related what had hap-
pened ; I was touched with a genuine pity.
" As she was reciting all this with the greatest
vehemence, she happened to turn her head to where the
bust, in wax, of My Lord Oxford, his recent gift, was.
She felt such a return of her wrath, that, notwith-
standing her weakness, she threw herself from the bed
to go & shatter it to pieces. I restrained her with
difficulty, & to prevent a recurrence of her paroxysm
at a sight which, in truth, could not help being painful
to her, I caused one of my people to take the case
away. He carried it to my lodging with the portrait
in it, and this it is that you now see.
1 He probably stood on a chair in the " great Salle," and looked
through the skylight, so common in those days. See the frontispieces
to contemporary plays, Etherege, Behn, &c.
277
MEMOIRS OF THE
" To complete this little story in a few words, it only
remains for me to tell you that Roxaline persisted that
the marriage was valid, but the influence of my friend
prevailed over the good cause of the Actress. Parlia-
ment contented itself with condemning him not to
marry, unless he had her consent, & also to endow her
with a considerable pension. Further, he was also
compelled to recognise as his a son that was born. 1
" Since this all happened our friendship has not been
so ardent ; but he has since told me that he would not
have kept the bad turn he intended playing that poor girl
from me, except that he knew I should be so strongly
opposed to it that we should have quarrelled."
" I know nearly all that you have just related,"
said the Duke of Buckingham, "and I swear that the
behaviour of My Lord Oxford appeared to me so
wicked that I have always been one of those who
blamed him most."
" For me," said My Lord Arran, " I praise him
for having anticipated on his part the infidelity that
Roxaline would have displayed. Were one wise one
would act in the same way with all women "
My Lord Saint Albans laughingly twitted him
for his anger with Emilie & the Duke of Monmouth.
He told him that he railed too much against the
sex, & should curb his resentment.
Whilst he was still speaking a valet-de-chambre of
the Duke of Buckingham came and interrupted.
He handed his master a missive that Esther had
just brought from My Lady Norwich.
At the sight of it the Duke changed colour ; he
was dying to read it, but his pride forbade. After
all that he had said about his Mistress he feared the
two lords would banter him.
1 On the death of his father this son unsuccessfully claimed the
title. He died June 4, 1 708. Dictionary of National Biography, vol. viii.
278
COURT OF ENGLAND
My Lord Saint Albans guessed easily from whom
the note came. " Believe me," he said, " when I
counsel you not to let your anger predominate over
the dictates of your heart. Mine tells me that letter
probably justifies her. Would you not be delighted
were the lady so to explain herself as to satisfy you
in every way you could wish ? J!
" I do not know what I desire at present," said the
Duke with a self-conscious air which betrayed more of
love than of anger. " But whatever it contains I had
perhaps better see in what manner this little ingrate
endeavours to justify her reception of me."
He only found these words in the note :
Your eyes have betrayed to me all your anger ; why did
not you see my embarrassment ? You know something of
my complaint against you, and I wish you to realise that for
which you must praise me. Do not fail, were it at the peril of
your life, to wait for me at your place to-night.
" Ha, I breathe at last ! " cried the Duke. " I
confess with shame that I have really suffered under
her indifference & anger. At the bottom of my heart
I have always loved her, & it made me miserable to
attempt to hate one so dear to me."
" How lucky you are," interrupted My Lord Arran,
" you can still allow yourself to be beguiled by the
woman you love."
" Eh ! but I hope that will be your fate," said My
Lord Saint Albans.
" If it were my fate I should not have seen with
my own eyes the Duke of Monmouth descending from
Emilie's window," retorted the young man. " Is it
possible to condone such outrageous conduct, & should
I not merit the most abject disgrace could I make up
my mind to overlook it ? ?:
" Mon Dieu" exclaimed My Lord Saint Albans," you
speak badly for your future peace. When the weakness
279
COURT OF ENGLAND
is so great as to overcome one's reason one is obliged
to ignore what one knows, hide what one sees, feign
to be content."
" Yes," cried my lord impatiently, " Yes, one
must be a fool, ridiculous, besotted, and a bubble
to allow oneself to made a laughing-stock by a scoundrel
& to kiss the hand that stabs one. Your maxims &
mine," he continued, " are very different ; instead
of that benevolence, which you seek to arouse in me,
I shall take a diametrically opposite course, & if I
have not been successful in making myself loved I
still have it in my power to make myself feared ! "
Saying these words he made to leave the room but the
Duke cried so comically : " Adieu ! adieu ! ! adieu ! ! !
Signer Matamore, 1 the terror of the beautiful, the
fear of all husbands ! " that My Lord Arran notwith-
standing his vexation was compelled to laugh.
They separated nearly all together. His Grace of
Buckingham took himself with diligence to his lodging
to await the hour of his rendezvous ; My Lord Arran
returned to his own house overcome with a mortal
sadness ; whilst My Lord Saint Albans retired to
prepare for the hour when he would make his court.
1 This legendary character figures constantly in the plays, farces
and poems of the seventeenth century. Like Don Juan and Don
Quixote to whom he may be compared, he originally hailed from
Spain, but, unlike them, his origin is unknown beyond the fact that the
word Matamore is a corruption of Tueur de Maure, which dates it at
the time of the struggle of the Spaniards and the Moors. As Juan was
the libertine, and Quixote the idealist, so Matamore was the conventional
figure of a ranting, roaring, boasting solder, who defied both God and
man. Paul Scarron, Madame de Maintenon's husband, wrote several
plays and farces round Matamore. The allusions in contemporary
and modern literature are numerous. Cf. Larousse : Grand Diction-
naire Universal, Tome x ; Maurice Sand : Masques et Bouffons,
1839, Tom. i, p. 191 ; Victor Fourvel : Curiosites Thedtrales, 1860 ;
G. Vapereau: Dictionnaire Universel des Literatures, 1876, p. 377,
&c. &c.
280
CHAPTER XL
ON leaving his basket the Duke of Monmouth
proceeded to the lodging of My Lord Grey. 1
The supper was finished & my lord re-
proached his guest for being so late.
" Ha," said the Duke, " if you knew what hindered
my coming, far from scolding, you would sympathise
with me." Thereupon he took him aside & told
him all that had passed in the Chamber of the Maids
of her Royal Highness.
My Lord Grey could not refrain from punctuating
various points of the narrative with laughter, so much
so that the Duke was on the point of becoming seriously
angry.
" Surely one does not ridicule the mishaps of one's
friends ! " he exclaimed. " Here am I at cross pur-
poses with three Mistresses, and in mortal dread of
the King finding it all out. Could anything be more
disturbing ? ' :
u Were you not a faithless trifler," replied My Lord
Grey, " this should cure you of embarking in similar
adventures, but you flutter without ceasing, like a
Butterfly."
" You do well," said the Duke, " to thus reproach
me, & if I were less engaged it would not be long
1 Ford, Lord Grey, b. 1655, d. June 24, 1701, was the eldest son of
Ralph, second Baron Werk. Was " out " in 1685, but turned " King's
evidence." In the reign of William and Mary he was advanced to the
dignity of Earl of Tankerville.
28l
MEMOIRS OF THE
before I should be equal with you over it. But at
such a time I cannot jest." He continued his dis-
course, and from time to time as he spoke, the recur-
ring thought of the basket and its manipulation, was
too much for My Lord Grey, and caused him to break
forth into repeated bursts of laughter.
u I tell you it is no laughing matter," reiterated
the Duke, "you must think of a means of calming
Madam Betty Felton of calming Emilie of calming
Filadelphe ! "
" You set me a task more difficult than you realise,"
replied the other, " though there is nothing that I
would not do to serve you. I will see Emilie, & speak
also to her companion ; but Lady Betty I must leave
to you to settle."
" Very well," said the Duke, " you undertake to
make the girls listen to reason, and I will go to the
third Lady forthwith."
" What, without having anything to eat ! " ex-
claimed Lord Grey. " Wait a moment "
" I do not know how to," cried the Duke. " I
want to make my peace with Lady Betty whilst her
husband is away ; I can sup afterwards."
They told him when he arrived at Lady Betty's
she was ill, and he at once went up to her room where
he found her in bed. Kneeling down at her side,
he took her hand & pressed it for some time between
his own in a dire uncertainty as to what to say. Finally,
he asked what ailed her, and if nothing could be done
to afford her any relief.
" You can do everything necessary, my lord," she said,
with a languorous air which but rendered her still more
attractive, " you can allay my suffering entirely if you
wish it. But how can I believe the promises of one
who is faithless, & who no longer loves me ? "
" I avow to you, Madam," said he, " that I have
282
COURT OF ENGLAND
already reproached myself for having even in appear-
ance given you cause for complaint ; I should have
foreseen it ; but sometimes things occur that are so
unlocked for that it is impossible to circumvent
them. Such were the events of this evening which
probably hurt you, & yet I swear that there has never
been a man more innocent than I. It was by chance
that I entered the chamber of the Maids of her
Highness. But when Filadelphe was taken ill, and
Emilie went to her succour, I felt that, however
indifferent I might be to the former, I ought not to
leave her. Barely was she recovered from a long swoon
than the Gouvernante arrived; her strictness causing
them equal alarm they shut me up in their Closet. Then
you came. That was a new embarrassment, from which
they could think of no other way to free themselves,
than to lower me from the window "
" A little more credulity on my part," interrupted
Madam Betty, " and a little more custom on yours
to speak the truth, & I might be persuaded to believe
the story you are telling me,' but my lord it cannot be
denied you love one of those girls. I have not for-
gotten in what tender & passionate manner you spoke
to Emilie. It is useless for you to tell me she does
not appeal to you But then a little application on
my part & I shall know all your sentiments."
" You would be wiser, Madam, not to wish to con-
sult anyone save myself," said the Duke, " and if you
sink to the level of a spy you will find such behaviour
will but alienate my heart. Believe me that no one
but yourself would doubt me an instant."
Save for a sigh My Lady Betty maintained a pro-
found silence, but the sigh was sufficiently loud to
convey something of her thoughts to the Duke. It
made him very angry. His behaviour to his Mis-
tresses was despotic in the extreme, and it appeared
283
MEMOIRS OF THE
to him that it was their place to believe everything
that, either from a politic motive or from inclination,
he said, nor should they seek to penetrate further.
Madam Betty Felton had no spirit to answer fur-
ther ; she felt ill, as I have already said, & his presence
was a pain. Perceiving this he left her, & having
returned to his home, he was obliged to pass the rest
of the night in endeavouring to arrange his love-
affairs, which, it must be admitted, were in a suffi-
ciently parlous state.
The next day having been to make his court, 1 he
retired into his Closet, there to await My Lord Grey
who had promised to bring him an answer. At an early
hour he came .
" Divine," said he, as soon as they were alone,
" what I have to tell you "
" In sooth," returned the Duke, " I can advance
nothing. Emilie is so uncertain, or I might be able
to know what to expect from her ; whilst Filadelphe
is so prim that her views are even less easy to
forecast."
" Chance giving me an opportunity by which I
did not hesitate to profit," continued My Lord Grey,
" I spoke to both privately. Neither wished to enter
into any explanation & I am charged but to tell you
on behalf of Emilie that she must speak to you.
Filadelphe also admitted that she would not be sorry
to see you but that she is hedged about by so many
spies that she conjures you, an you have any con-
sideration for her, to be extraordinarily careful, and
rather to allow a week to pass without looking at her,
than deliver her to the fury of Emilie."
The Duke assured Lord Grey that he would most
exactly follow the orders of his two Mistresses.
1 It appears to have been the custom for the men of the Court to
wait upon the King every morning at his levee to enquire about his
health, and to ascertain if their services were required.
284
THE LADY ELIZABETH FELTON
From a miniature at Ickivorth
COURT OF ENGLAND
" Do you think they are angry with me ? " he asked.
" I was not able to penetrate their sentiments,"
replied the other, " their deportment was too elabo-
rately studied. Still, it did occur to me that Emilie
was restless and depressed."
" I care for her more than I do for the other,"
said the Duke with a sigh.
" From the way you sigh," observed My Lord Grey,
" this appears to annoy you."
The Duke made no reply, & for a while he fell into
a reverie. Then, rousing himself, he looked at his
companion ;
" I will confess to you," he said at last, " that I
have never experienced real pleasure in the possession
of a heart which I may consider I have absolutely
made my own."
" What then appeals to you ? " demanded the other :
" Your taste is singularly bizarre."
" The care I give to my latest Love," replied his
friend, " her disdain ; the eagerness she awakes in me ;
the hopes, the fears, the doubts, in fact all that goes
to the commencement of a liaison ! This is my
condition where Filadelphe is concerned. I think
she has a certain liking for me, but as her virtue & her
sense are alike opposed she endeavours to check it,
though her heart takes my part, & despite herself
she loves me. It is this which attracts me ; it is this
which flatters my vanity."
" Ha ! my lord, you do not yet know the real thing ;
you are only moved by non-essentials, by trifles and
badinage. Had you experienced a grande tendresse
you would know that all the happiness of life lies in
being loved by the object of your affection ; that
any uncertainty as to possessing the heart of your
Mistress would reduce you to despair ; that whatever
might threaten your peace of mind would cause you
hideous alarm. Judge by the sentiments that I depict,
285
COURT OF ENGLAND
& by your own, the difference between the genuine
& the counterfeit."
" Then I declare," cried His Grace interrupting him,
" if it be true that really to know love one must be
seriously engaged all I have hitherto experienced is a
counterfeit."
" I plainly see it," acquiesced his lordship, " your
hour has yet to dawn. Someday you will confess to
me perhaps more than you would now desire."
With which prophecy (which time has sufficiently
verified, though of this I have no right to speak)
he went out. 1
The Duke was preparing to wait upon her Royal
Highness the Duchess of York when he was informed
that the Prince de Neuburg had just arrived, and that
it was the King's orders that he should forthwith
attend him to beg he would that evening be present
at the Queen's ball. He could take no other course
than to obey. He and the Prince were already
acquainted, having met in the States of the latter's
father, the Due de Neuburg, where Monmouth
had sojourned sometimes during his travels. 2 The
young Prince, well born, & of a rank which the Duke
himself held at the English Court, now received him
with all the kindness he could wish.
1 Readers of Macaulay and other works of imaginative literature
dealing with this period will already be sufficiently acquainted with
the tragic romance of the last years of Monmouth's life.
2 This meeting must have taken place during the campaign of 1672.
Charles II. and the father of the Prince were well acquainted, the
English sovereign having visited the second named in the autumn of
1654 wne n he was magnificently entertained. Cf. Green's Princesses
vol. vi, p. 219. Two years later upon the death of his wife, the Duke
made an offer for Mary, Princess Royal, Charles II.'s favourite sister,
who had accompanied her brother in 1654, but she refused him. Strick-
land's Last Four Princesses of the House of Stuart, p. 104. In 1655
it was said the Duke of Neuburg was about the only friend of influence
Charles II. had. He interested himself in endeavouring to persuade
the Pope to help the English King. Clarendon, xiv, p. 120.
286
1
CHAPTER XLI
Prince de Neuburg 1 did not fail to wait
on the King at an early hour that evening,
& remained sometime with his Majesty
ere the Ball commenced. In person well
made, he had a beautiful head, agreeable manners,
and danced with much good grace. As he spoke
several languages he found no difficulty in joining in con-
versation with anyone he wished, and of all those who
came to the Ball Miledy . . . was the one who pleased
him most. The melancholy into which My Lord Arran's
bad conduct had plunged her had resulted in a languor
which but rendered her eyes the more sweet & touch-
ing ; her skin's pallor was not in the least insipid ;
while her lips remained the colour of coral and a cer-
tain carelessness that was visible in her attire, such
as is common in women who are regardless as to whe-
ther they please, suited her so well that she eclipsed
those who had taken the utmost pains in their adorn-
i John William Joseph, fourth child of seventeen and eldest son
of Philip William (1615-1690), Duke of Neuburg. (The latter succeeded
his father in 1653, and, in 1685 became Elector of the Lower Palatine
upon the death, without issue, of his kinsman Charles, son of Charles-
Louis, the elder brother of Prince Rupert.) John William Joseph
was born at Dusseldorf, where a statue of him still stands in the Market
place, on April 19, 1658 ; he married (l) 1678, Mary Anne Josepha
(d. 1689), daughter of the Emperor Ferdinand III. and (2) Mary Ann
Louisa (d. 1691), daughter of Cosmo III. of Florence. There was no
issue of either marriage. In 1690 he became, on the death of his father,
the twenty-first Palsgrave, which office he held until his death, June 8,
1716.
287
MEMOIRS OF THE
ment. Her rank was so distinguished at the Court
that it was unlikely that her single name would pass
unremarked by the Foreign Prince, &, approaching
her, he made her the usual compliments. She replied
with much civility, and he passed the rest of the
evening in entertaining her with marked zeal.
This did not displease her. However indifferent a
pretty woman may be, she is flattered at being singled
out before others, & this tribute to her charms was too
great a solace to Miledy ... for her to make any effort
to check it. She had a further reason to encourage
him, for My Lord Arran was at the ball, & it was her
desire to spur him into some feeling of jealousy. She
had noticed his chagrin, and readily guessed that
something was vexing him. He made no attempt to
address Emilie, and that charmer was surely never less
attractive than she appeared upon this occasion. When
her eyes, for once neither bright nor animated, fell
upon Miledy . . . , & she at the same time recalled
the incident of the inkhorn, her desire for vengeance
was so strong that she had much trouble to control
herself. When, on the other hand, they encountered
those of My Lord Arran they fell abashed, & the colour
flooding her face bore witness to her secret confusion
at the thought of His Grace of Monmouth & his
basket.
That nobleman would certainly have profited by
the opportunity which the ball accorded him to place
himself by Emilie, had it not happened that Filadelphe
was so near that there was no possibility of his saying
anything that he did not wish her to hear. Had he
been able to address Filadelphe he would have been
content, but Emilie's presence forbade that, and the
finishing touch was put to his embarrassment upon
his discovering that both My Lord Arran &
Madam Betty Felton, who had come to the ball
288
COURT OF ENGLAND
solely to be the better informed of his philanderings,
were both observing him closely.
From this disagreeable situation the Duke was
drawn by the arrival of Nelly Gwyn. 1 There are few
people who do not know that she was an Actress
whom the King loved more for her wit than the
attractions of her person ; not but what she had a
very pretty figure, & her spirits were such that it was
difficult to remain long in her company without
sharing her gaiety. She was in a masque 2 disguised
as a Shepherdess, and accompanied by many Ladies
and men of quality 3 similarly at tired. As soon as she,
entered & had danced the contre danse, (which she
did very well, although her manners were as singular
in dancing as they were in everything else that she
did) she cried out : that the heat of the room was
unbearable, and that they must have some air, that
of a truth the season was unsuitable for such amuse-
ments, & it was most uncomfortable to stay shut up
with so many people, & so many candles.
The Queen, who was but poorly entertained by the
ball, now re-entered her own apartments ; the Maids
of her Royal Highness (who had come with their
1 Eleanor Gwyn, born February 2, 1650, the daughter of a fruiterer,
who had a shop at the corner of Drury Lane and the Coal Yard (now
Macklin Street), was first an orange girl and subsequently an actress.
She became the King's mistress 1668, and was the mother of two children
(i) Charles, b. May 8, 1670 ; created Duke of St. Albans, 1684 ; d. 1726,
having married, 1676, Diana, heiress of De Vere, twentieth Earl of
Oxford, (2) James, b. December 15, 1671, died in Paris, September
1686. She died of apoplexy November 1687, and is buried in the
Church of St. Martin's in the Fields, Charing Cross. Peter Cunning-
ham's Story of Nell Gwyn, 1852. (Upon inquiry at the church we
are informed that the site of the grave has not been identified.)
2 Or, as we should say, in fancy dress.
* The ' grand old word ' of gentleman was evidently discredited as
early as 167-. The play bill of Calisto, the famous masque per-
formed 1674-75 by the ladies of the Duchess of York refers to the
" persons of quality of the men who danced,"
T 289
MEMOIRS OF THE
Gouvernante, because her Highness did not then go
out) rose also to retire ; but the King told them
they might come into the Park with the other Ladies.
The Prince de Neuburg accompanied his Majesty,
& all the Court, followed by the Violins, repaired
to the bowling green, where they arranged themselves
some on seats, some on the grass ; while in many
places there was dancing. The night was vivid, they
needed no lights, the flutes & hautboys took up the
strain of the Violins and this unpremeditated Fete
was delightful in every respect.
Order no longer reigning all could speak easily
without fear of remark.
Having seen My Lord Arran passing behind the
palisade, against which she was leaning, Miledy
slipped out of one of the wickets of the bowling green
which opened into, the Alley in which he was, & they
found theftnselves face to face. My lord was much
surprised ]t this encounter, & hesitated if to turn
back ; insensibly he had, during the progress of the
ball, come to regard her more favourably than he had
for a long while.
" Ha, Madam ! how happy this moment would
seem were you still to me what you have been," he
said.
" Could such a thing be possible, ingraU ! " she
cried. " Could I overlook all your ill behaviour ;
the indifference with which you listened to my re-
monstrances when in her Highness's Barge ; the
contempt with which you spoke of me to my face in
the Queen's Gallery ; the answer you made to a
letter which should have touched you to the core ?
With what industry have you laboured to convince
me of your unfaith ! And your care is rewarded,
you have succeeded ! I shall never pardon you- "
" You will never pardon me ! " he exclaimed as,
290
COURT OF ENGLAND
approaching her, he took her hand. " Is it possible
that you intend to carry out a resolve so contrary to
all your previous declarations ? Do you imagine
that, even when I felt most weakness for Emilie, I
was capable of renouncing your love ? "
" You were capable of any perfidy," interrupted
Miledy ... " You would have plunged a dagger into
my bosom to win a smile from her. It is easy to see
that there is some misunderstanding between you,
apparently it is her fault more than yours ; she has
found the trick to make you ever submissive and
Eatient ; you endure her frivolity, nor do you love
er the less even when you behold a rival preferred
to you. With a silence, that one cannot sufficiently
praise "
" Ha, Madam, this is too much ! " cried my lord,
" You insult me ! I was prepared to re-enter your
bonds once more ; fires all but extinguished were
ready to flame again ; but when you add irony to
your reproaches "
" I disdain no weapon whereby I may be avenged,"
said she. " An outraged heart no longer studies
moderation "
She would have continued in this strain had not a
noise near by abruptly silenced her, and almost im-
mediately she perceived the Duke of Monmouth with
Emilie.
Being equally impatient to speak, they had stolen
together into an arbour, intent on settling their
differences.
" Yonder are two people," said Miledy ... to My
Lord Arran, " who probably do not desire that you
should overhear their conversation. But notwithstand-
ing that, your interest is too great for you to be able
to deny yourself the pleasure of listening to them."
" It is a pleasure I would willingly forego," replied
* 291
MEMOIRS OF THE
he, " did I not read in your eyes your intense dislike of
me. My respect for you is too great for me to force
on you any longer the society of a creature you cannot
endure."
" Say rather," she retorted, that it is your curiosity
that torments you beyond control." With which
parting shot she withdrew.
She had not been mistaken in her notion that My
Lord Arran wished to listen to the Duke & his Mistress.
Maintaining a profound silence, he cautiously ap-
proached the place where they were ; his attention
was redoubled when he observed the Duke was on his
knees on the ground.
". . . With my own eyes," Emilie was saying,
" with my own eyes, you wretch, you allowed me to
read in yours a love as violent as if you had never
loved anyone save her ! My proud rival affected a
swoon solely that she might touch you the more
intimately. No longer did my presence inspire you
with anything save a weak regard. Just Heaven can
I have seen a thing and doubt it all my life ! "
" Your suspicions would cause me cruel embarrass-
ment had they any foundation," said the Duke, " but
I swear to you that I have given you no reason for
complaint. I showed pity for an apparently dying
girl ; would you have wished me to let her expire
& trust her to your mercy ? It was not my fault you
would not aid her "
" Yes, you should have left her," cried Emilie,
" you should have remembered the pain that / was
suffering. You could have obliterated all my jealousy
had your behaviour been other than it was. You
might have known that, if you freed me from all my
anger with regard to you, at the same time you ensued
to Philadelphe all the tenderness of which I was capable.
But that is the crucial point, one cannot trust any
292
COURT OF ENGLAND
one. What was necessary you wished to do yourself.
No one else's assistance was required to bring back
the colour to her lips. Perhaps you will recall the
marks of tenderness you chose to give her "
" They were of such little moment to me," he said,
" that I have quite forgotten them."
" Ah traitor," she cried, " I know too well what I
should believe ! And still notwithstanding all, wil-
lingly would I belie my clearest visions, my resentment,
even my reason ! could I flatter myself that I was
ever dear to you."
" You are my beloved, Emilie," he replied, " dearer
than anything, and some day my conduct will convince
you of it."
The conversation at this point became so tender &
was punctuated by such ardent caressing as to reduce
My Lord Arran to raging fury. Indeed he could no
longer have restrained his indignation had not his
attention suddenly been diverted by the opportune
arrival of the King.
293
H
CHAPTER XLII
IS Majesty passed quite close. Nelly was
with him, and the Prince of Neuburg
who gave his hand to Miledy . . . followed.
He seemed to be completely absorbed in
her, & she listened to him with far greater attention
than one usually gives to a man whom one has only
known a few hours.
Of a truth it is difficult to conceive a state more
aggrieved & desperate than that in which My Lord
Arran now found himself. On one side he could hear
Emilie & the Duke of Monmouth, on the other he
saw Miledy ... & the Foreign Prince ; whilst he found
himself deserted ; a prey alike to his anger & his
jealousy. Feeling he could no longer stay in a place
where it seemed that all those about him breathed
only joy and love he started off with the intention
of quitting alike the Alley & the bowling green. In
passing through a clump of trees, where it was so dark
that the moonlight could not dissipate the shadow,
he was arrested by profound sighs uttered with so
much intensity that it appeared that the Lady who
thus lamented must be on the point of expiring.
My Lord felt a sudden sympathy ; it occurred to
him that in the state he was himself it would be some
alleviation to meet with a person with whom he
could make moan in company. He thought also he
might perhaps comfort her who appeared so affected,
and approaching quietly he heard her speak thus :
294
COURT OF ENGLAND
" Ah unhappy that I am ! Why must it be that my
heart loves a man so, flighty so light ! What can I
look for from this fatal weakness ? He loves Emilie
I shall die of my woe ! " For the moment she was
silent, & then resumed her soliloquy with greater
vehemence : " Is it possible that I can beguile myself,
& that the tendernesses of this ingrate have greater
influence over me than all that I have just heard him
whisper to my rival ? Curiosity too fatal for my
life's repose, how dearly art thou going to cost me !
I was in a fool's paradise ; I cannot now doubt it ;
& yet I am in despair at being undeceived."
My Lord Arran had recognised the voice of Fila-
delphe, he did not at first approach any nearer being
under the impression that she was with one of her
Friends. After a time, hearing no answering voice
he eventually came to the conclusion that the violence
of her anguish was the only reason for her exclamations
and moving forward he found he was right. She was
alone, prostrate on the grass at the foot of a tree ;
some sound he made caused her to turn her head.
Perceiving him so near her apprehensions that he had
overheard her were extreme. She remembered her
imprudence in revealing the secret of her passion,
whilst my lord had no difficulty in conveying to her
what was passing in his mind.
" Fear nothing, Filadelphe," he said, " all the good
you wish this man, whom I have so much reason to
hate, will not make me betray your tenderness ; I
know how to keep silent, & I am capable of sympa-
thising with you in your troubles."
" I shall find them greatly augmented," said she,
" by the annoyance you will cause me if you attempt
to avenge yourself on the Duke ; but I do not think
you will do any such thing. Possibly you have heard
how little he troubles himself on my account ? He
295
MEMOIRS OF THE
loves Emilie alone, and if he has said anything at all
marked to me it was with the intention of deceiving
me."
" Why then do you wish him well ? " demanded my
lord, " knowing him to be an impostor and a scoun-
drel ? '
" My heart my cowardly heart," was her reply,
" does not consult my reason. I loved him ere I
ever realised the influence his presence & his conver-
sation exercised over me. But my lord," continued
she, " to assuage my misery suffer me to console my-
self with the belief that you will forget all the extrava-
gances that I have just uttered."
" Rest assured, beautiful Filadelphe, that I on
my part promise inviolable secrecy. I am a man of
honour, & I swear that if you are sufficiently weak
to continue to love him " And as he reached
these words he perceived the Duke standing not ten
paces away.
" What is all this ? " demanded the new comer
regarding him angrily and clapping his hand to his
sword hilt as he spoke.
Without replying my lord went to meet him,
adopting, the while, the same attitude of menace ;
& notwithstanding the respect due to the King's
house their fury would have blazed out in a manner
fateful to one or the other had not Filadelphe coura-
geously flung herself between them, conjuring them
the while to realise their rash imprudence.
The Duke of Buckingham who was passing near,
hearing angry voices which he could not distinguish,
now arrived on the scene. Grasping the situation
he joined his entreaties to those of Filadelphe, & being
the intimate friend of the Duke, & the uncle of my
lord, he importuned them both so forcibly that at
length they agreed to promise him not to attack each
296
MARGARET BLAGGE (" FILADELPHE ")
From an engraving by Humphreys of the painting at H'ootfon
COURT OF ENGLAND
other without first giving him ample warning of their
proposed encounter.
Filadelphe was about to retire, but the Duke of
Monmouth pressed her with so much insistence to
accord him a moment's attention, that whatever
reasons she might have to refuse this favour, she
found herself so little able to mask her curiosity
that she consented to stay.
" Am I not," he demanded, " the most unhappy of
lovers ? I care but ,for you, Filadelphe, but you
will not believe me, you think that Emilie alone
occupies me, you wish me ill without reason. But
you may fully believe that if I betray any further
interest in her it will be to prevent her discovering
my real feelings with regard to you, and her furious
jealousy from causing you annoyance."
" You play your role very naturally," she replied,
" though so little truth enters into your fiction. It
is easy to believe that you may have some inclination
for me ; for though you do not make much fuss
about any one affair your love is so ephemeral that
you desire to have several intrigues at once. But
you will find it very difficult to efface from my mind
the barbarous things you have just said to Emilie
about me. I shall not trouble to enlighten myself
any further as to your sentiments, & I avow were it
in my power to know even less of you than I do I
should be pleased, for since I have been acquainted
with you, you have caused me so much suffering that
it would have killed me, had I not been reserved for
further trouble."
" Filadelphe ! " cried the Prince, " how unjust you
are ! I fear, notwithstanding the kind things you
have betrayed, you are making up your mind to hate
me ; and of all evils this would be the worst."
" Heaven be praised ! " she replied, smiling sadly.
297
COURT OF ENGLAND
" Heaven be praised, if for once in your life you are
sincere ! It is more than I dare to hope, & as my trust
where you are concerned is great, even as my doubts
are innumerable ; you cannot look to destroy these
last at once. Adieu ! I will retire. A while back
our Gouvernante thought I was ill, & I took advantage
of this to get away from her. I assured her that I
was going to bed, but in passing through the ob-
scurity of this wood the solitude & my troubles pressed
me so strongly to stop & complain that I was not able
to deny myself and "
" The result is my own gain," said the Prince,
trying to stop her. " My happy Fortune arranged
this moment that I might assure you that I am yours
alone. If you have heard any words contrary to this
truth, self-interest alone dictated them."
" I have never entered into any engagement of
affection," said Filadelphe, " but I am convinced that
if one really loved, one could not deceive oneself to
the point you do, and I distrust a policy that compels
one to deny what is inconvenient."
" You are right, Mistress," he interrupted hastily.
" These are reproaches I fully deserve. But I intend
to break all other ties, &, if the question arises, to
explain my sentiments for you, if I am free of Emilie
you "
" No, my lord, no ; do not do this thing you
threaten," cried Filadelphe. " I am quite content.
All I desire is to make up my mind to take care of my
good name, nothing else in the world is so sacred
to me ; & I declare that it is dearer to me if the
only thing dearer than yourself. Continue to pay
your court to Emilie ; speak of me but rarely ; never
seek me. Time may, if you attend to this, pay you
with interest, for regarding my wishes." With these
words she withdrew.
298
CHAPTER XLIII
DAWN was breaking when the Duke of
Monmouth rejoined the Prince de
Neuburg. A little later he accompanied
him home, where they separated.
My Lord Arran, more grieved than he had ever
been before, realised but too well that if he returned
alone to his lodging he would but become the prey
of a thousand unhappy thoughts. It was his desire
to find some one to whom he might make complaint ;
and as the Duke of Buckingham had been present
at the Interview between himself & his Grace of
Monmouth, he prepared to set out for his Apartments,
preferring this to going elsewhere. He did not have
to wait long on his arrival, the Duke, who found a
greater entertainment in private pleasures than in
public Fetes, had contented himself with putting in
an appearance at the entertainment given by the
King to the German Prince after which he returned
home.
" I am delighted to see you here," he said. " Surely
the same impulse animates us. You desire to speak
of your troubles, whilst, on my part, I am anxious
to recount the most agreeable adventure that has
ever occurred to me in all my life."
" Yet our position is very different," replied his
nephew, " for you have only joyful things to engage
you, & I only mournful ones. Which of the two is to
speak first ? ''
299
MEMOIRS OF THE
" It shall be you, my poor friend," said the Duke
obligingly, " then my recital may perhaps efface
to some extent the unhappy thoughts of which
you are the victim."
" Never," said My Lord of Arran, " was lover so
ill-used as I ! In a fit of anger against Emilie I came
to the Ball but to flout her, & I was not even able
to speak to her ! She carefully avoided me, and all
I could do was to keep her in sight so as to prevent
her conversing with the Duke of Monmouth. But
it happened that while I thus occupied myself with
persecuting them by my presence I happened to catch
sight of Miledy ... It seemed to me that she was
more beautiful than any other Person in the room.
Probably you noticed her dress ? It was simple rather
than magnificent ; it was even a little negligent, but
to my thinking this negligence was studied. I was ex-
tremely embarrassed by her presence ; I dared not
leave my place ; to have done so would have been to
permit the Duke of Monmouth to have the pleasure
of speaking to the faithless Emilie ; but, on the other
hand, I could not see Miledy . . . , with an air so
touching, and eyes so tender, without desiring to
approach her, & whisper that my flame for her would
easily rekindle at the first encouragement. In a be-
wildered manner I rehearsed in my mind all the reasons
I had to praise her, & to complain of Emilie ; I thought
of the terms in which I might sue for the pardon of
the one, & those I should employ in upbraiding the
other. Hope encouraged me, despair whispered I
might lose both Mistresses ; & I cursed myself for my
ingratitude to my first flame. Lost in these different
reflections my jealousy of Emilie gave way to my love
for Miledy ... & this last received, owing to my
doubts, a new impetus. For what, My Lord Duke, was
my burning anger and rage, when, after some moments
300
COURT OF ENGLAND
of distraction, of which Miledy . . . alone was the
cause, I turned to look for Emilie only to find her
vanished & the Duke of Monmouth had also dis-
appeared !
" That you may realise to the full my anxiety in
regard to Miledy ... I will confess it was caused by the
Prince de Neuburg. In the ball room he had markedly
attached himself to her, & now in the bowling green he
no sooner finished dancing with another than he
immediately resumed his place at her side ; he flung
himself at her feet, pretending to find the grass cool ;
then sitting up he allayed the heat, of which she com-
plained, with a fan ; he supplied her with Portuguese
Oranges & sweet Citrons, pretending to eat what she
had touched ; in short all those little things which
persons who are indifferent do not even see & which
are an outrage, as you know, in the eyes of a lover.
What added to my annoyance was that every time I
looked at her she appeared to make herself even more
gracious to the Prince. I found it harder to endure
than a blow from a dagger."
" Ha, my lord ! " cried the Duke, "you are indeed
angry "
" Do not interrupt me, I conjure you," pleaded
the other, "for I would finish the recital of my weak-
nesses as soon as may be. I confess her coquettish
trifling was nearly reducing me to despair when I
became aware as I have already explained that
Emilie had profited by my preoccupation to escape
my vigilance.
" My uncertainty was pitiful. Though it was my
desire to follow the fugitive Emilie, I also wished to
study the proceedings of Miledy . . . and the Foreign
Prince ; & my heart, thus divided against itself by
these different interests, did not know upon what to
determine. Eventually I followed Emilie.
301
MEMOIRS OF THE
" But I had still to find her, when I beheld Miledy
. . . coming towards me. She was alone &, without
presumption, I had every reason to conclude she was
looking for me. This notion awoke a thousand secret
happinesses which I did not dare to admit until better
informed as to her sentiments. I mentioned some-
thing of mine, but I found her cold and offhand.
When she had made me all the reproaches she could
think of she hurriedly departed.
" After this disagreeable experience I preferred to
stay where I was rather than follow her. Then I
summoned all my strength to go & play the eaves-
dropper upon the fickle Emilie. What was she not
saying to the Duke of Monmouth ! Their conversa-
tion was divided between reproaches, tenderness, &
tears, until they eventually gave me the impression
of a great mutual passion.
" You cut a sad figure then, my dear nephew,"
observed his Grace of Buckingham.
" I was just about to enter the Garden-house in
which they were hidden, when the King, with Nelly
& a party of the Court, came down the alley where
I was. It was no time to make a scene, & I fled from
a place so fatal to my repose, resolved to find another
more a-tune to my choler, when I heard Filadelphe
in the wood. Attracted by her complaints & sobs I
approached and listened some time. I confess that,
be it by a feeling of pity, a desire for vengeance, or
by that natural leaning which causes us to love those
who are amiable, I was so touched at her grief that I
wished with all my heart to have it in my power to
reconcile her with the Duke of Monmouth. I spoke
to her of his inconstancy ; I pointed out all the mis-
fortunes that she might expect in an affair so little
likely to bring her peace ; I represented his changing
moods, & I was insensibly leading up to speaking of
302
COURT OF ENGLAND
myself, when chance conducted him so near us
that he overheard something of our conversation.
He and I were about to settle our differences when
you interrupted us."
" I praise Heaven, my lord, that I did," broke in
the Duke, " I should think but little of your love if
your anger had led to such a culmination. The
King, annoyed at such a want of respect might have
made you pay dearly for your irregular conduct.
It is not always possible to yield to one's chagrin,
& already you have had too many temptations to draw
your sword indecently against My Lord the Duke
of Monmouth "
" Say rather, it is indecent to draw it in the pre-
cincts of the Palace ! l For the rest I hold the Duke
is honoured by my desire to measure my blade with
his ! "
" Do not let us get angry," said the Duke of
Buckingham. " You know I am older than you ;
& being your wife's uncle places me in a position
to speak both as a friend, & a relation."
" You do me a great honour," said my lord, " to
consider me in that light, but you must also admit
that I am the most unfortunate of men ! "
" No doubt," said the Duke. " I have never seen
love affairs less propitious than yours. You would be
happier entirely cured."
" Time alone," replied the other, " can free me
of all the chimeras which torment me, & I think I
shall go to Ireland & stay a while with my father.
By this means I shall forget Miledy . . . , learn
to detest Emilie, and give no further thought to
Filadelphe "
The Duke began to laugh. " A Lover whose heart
is so divided," said he, " hath no occasion to fly. When
1 See Appendix B.
30?
COURT OF ENGLAND
one loves in several directions it is only a question of
a game, for a love of trifling rather than a serious
passion is the dominant influence."
" Ha, what is that you say ? " demanded my lord.
" What is that you say ! I feel that I was born to
love, & whenever my heart is engaged it is always too
ardently for my repose. But," he continued, "after
having so shamefully abused your patience by recount-
ing my humiliations, you must now tell me the reason
for the joyous light I read in your own eyes."
" You will remember," began the Duke, " the mis-
sive from My Lady Norwich, which they brought me
at My Lord Saint Albans ? I left you both hurriedly,
& shutting myself up in my Closet, I commanded the
same valet-de-chambre who had brought the letter,
to allow no one save my Mistress herself, or those
that come from her, to enter."
304
CHAPTER XLIV
" "1^ IWT ANY hours passed. I was informed that
^L / 1 the King was asking for me. I would
^L/ not go, and told them to say I was
JL ^ *- out. Night fell. You know with what
impatience one awaits the person one loves ; without
exaggeration the hours appeared to me more pro-
tracted than the longest days. At last a man dressed
as a postboy entered my Closet; he had an English
bonnet pulled over his eyes & wore jackboots ; in his
hand he carried a crop-whip. He presented me with
a letter from My Lady Norwich, which I will read
to you.
Everything opposes itself to my desire to see you. I had
flattered myself that Esther would be sufficiently clever to
arrange for me to leave here without being observed but with
all her talent she is no match for my Jaloux. He guards
me with more care than he would a state prisoner for
whom he was responsible. I avow to you that I am in
despair ! I fear everything, I hope for little, & the only thing
that consoles me in my misery is the thought that you are
sensible of it, & will omit nothing for its alleviation.
" The reading of this note occasioned me the
utmost anxiety. I had assured myself of a pleasure
of which I was now frustrated, and I feared that in
trying to serve her against her husband I might cause
such a dreadful disturbance in the Court that in the
end I should lose her. I mused profoundly on these
things while the postboy continued to wait. At last
u 305
MEMOIRS OF THE
I asked him if he could deliver my reply to her who
had intrusted him with the letter. He said ' No,'
because he was going into Wales to take some orders
from the King.
" * Very well, my friend,' said I, c thou must go
where thou wilt.' I handed him a few guineas, and he
turned to the door ; but as he doffed his bonnet to
salute me I saw some long hair fall out, it reached
to his knees and appeared to be of the most beautiful
colour in the world. 1 In attempting to push it aside
he revealed a little hand whiter than snow, and a
charming face Why do you laugh, my lord ? Have
you still to divine that it was My Mistress ? I declare
that the surprise augmented still more my pleasure
in seeing her. By my joy, my eagerness, & my
agitated incoherent discourse I showed her this, &
proved to her, in the full, the emotion I felt. My
resentment was effaced by her presence ; I forgot
all about the reproaches which I had intended to heap
upon her. It was she who first referred to the bad
reception that she had previously given me. She
told me that her jealous & suspicious husband had kept
ward in the Closet hard by her Room from where he
could hear & see (without being perceived himself)
all that she said, all that might happen to her, all
that she did.
" ' Would you have wished me to expose you to that
madman's fury ? ' she asked. ' He was quite capable
of hurling himself on you, and taking the lowest advan-
tage of the opportunity you gave him in coming alone
& disguised to his house. There is no desire that would
not have been slain by so distracting a preoccupation.
1 La Comtesse de Comminges, wife of the French Ambassador
(1662-65) had also hair " the finest colour in the world," whatever
hue that may be ! Cf. J. J. Jusserand's French Ambassador at the
Court of Charles 77. , p. 38.
306
COURT OF ENGLAND
I assure you that the danger quenched all my eagerness.
I hardly dared to allow my eyes to rest on you ; I
trembled when I spoke to you ; every instant I ex-
pected him to recognise you. I far rather preferred
that you should think me cold, ungrateful & disdainful
than run the risks of an encounter with my husband.'
" c It is not on account of your care for me that I
remonstrate my dearest one,' I said, * because I do
not think your husband would have attacked me with-
out thinking twice, but I am glad for your own sake
that you were careful, & you ought to know that you
are of far greater import than what only touches me
directly.'
" She went on to explain that to leave the house
she had been compelled to disguise herself in the
manner in which I saw her ; and, most amusingly,
the servants had given her a packet of letters that
had come for her husband, that she might give them
to him if she saw him. Nothing could have been more
opportune, for as she went out she met him returning
with My Lord Grey. Without any diffidence she
advanced, handed them to him & made good her
escape.
" ' You were lucky in getting away,' I said. ' But
good heavens, have you taken any steps for a safe
return ? '
" ' I have no fears,' she replied. * Esther will say
I am ill and that I am asleep ; this will prevent him
entering.'
" f Alas Madam ! ' I exclaimed, ' is that enough ?
I fear we shall pay dearly for the pleasures of this
reconciliation.'
" ' Would you have had me leave you a moment
longer in the error that was angering you against
me ?'
" ' I could endure everything,' I interrupted,
307
MEMOIRS OF THE
6 even death rather than see you exposed to the smallest
trouble.'
" * Ha, my lord,' she cried, * have no fear ; do not
spoil your present happiness by profitless forebodings.
Whatever happens rests with Heaven, but place some
reliance to our good fortune.' Her strength was to
me such an ample proof of her love that my timidity
should have been to her an equal proof of mine.
Still, I endeavoured to obey her, nor did I add any-
thing further to our conversation that could alarm her.
" I must confess to you, my lord, that a reconcilia-
tion of this sort has something in it very affecting for
a delicate heart, & that the hours that had seemed
so long when I was awaiting her were, now that she was
with me, all too short. Her presence healed all the
wounds that jealousy had inflicted ; I forgot the
passion of the King, the Duke of Monmouth & My
Lord Russell ; a hundred times she declared that I
alone was worthy of her esteem, & it gave me too
much pleasure to think it, for me to resign myself
to a state of mind in which I might believe the con-
trary.
" At length the moment for parting arrived, and
at the break of day we separated. To set my doubts
at rest I begged of her, when she was safely back
again, to signify it by putting a riband at her window.
Soon after I passed adown the street & remarked
this riband, 1 and then, the most satisfied man in the
1 Lord and Lady Norwich lived at Arundel House, Strand. It was
there, according to his D iary, that on September 19,1667, Evelyn obtained
from Lord Norwich for the University of Oxford, the gift of the Arun-
delian Marbles. The house was pulled down in 1678, the family migrat-
ing subsequently to St. James's Square. The memory of Arundel House
survives in Arundel, Surrey, Howard, and Norfolk Streets. Peter
Cunningham's Handbook of London, 1849. It is very unlikely, on
account of the Duchess, that Buckingham's assignation with his
beloved took place at the Cockpit. York House, his father's official
308
COURT OF ENGLAND
world, I proceeded to Whitehall & was in time to see
something of the Fete. This is the state of my affairs,
and by them you may realise that the situation be-
tween a Lover & his Mistress is never so desperate
but that its eventual issue may be a happy one. At
My Lord Saint Albans' I swore by my life that I would
not see her ; you remember my anger & the transport
in which I denounced her ? My God, could my folly
have been greater ! I showed you her letters. I told
you things about her that should have been buried
in eternal silence. Fortunately I uttered my com-
plaints to two honourable men who will worthily
keep my secret. Where should I be had I confided this
trust in a questionable quarter, if the lady's honour
were endangered by my suspicions & extravagances ?
Profit by my example," he continued more quietly,
" and know always that a gentleman should not at
any time, or for any reason, betray the confidence of
a woman, whether he has reason to praise her or
condemn her."
" You speak very calmly, My Lord Duke," cried
My Lord Arran, " your situation & mine being
so different I am not astonished that our views should
also be so. Ton have only cause for satisfaction ;
I have only cause for grief."
" If you desire to re-open matters with Miledy ..."
exclaimed his Uncle, " and you will permit me to
arrange it for you, I shall be much deceived if I
cannot satisfactorily adjust things."
residence, had been pulled down a couple of years before and the land
sold: York Street, Buckingham Street, Villiers Street, &c., Strand,
commemorate it. Wallingford House, his birthplace, was let, but he had
an establishment in Upper Thames Street (Blackfriars), " where he
sometimes resided upon a peculiar humour." Stripe. He maintained
this place as late as 1679. ^ return to Whitehall from it he would have
to pass down the Strand and go by Arundel House, just as is recounted
above.
39
COURT OF ENGLAND
" I could not think of such a thing," said my lord.
" She hath every right to complain, & when I recall
to mind the hard things I said to her, under the im-
pression that I was speaking to Emilie, & when I add
to it all that the Prince of Neuburg does to please
her, & her affability to him, I am not in the least
astonished at her holding me at a distance as she
does."
" If the Prince is going to make a long stay in
London," observed the Duke, " I will not promise
that for the satisfaction of a complete vengeance on
you she may not make a change, but in promoting
him to your place she will not forget you, and at the
outside it will be a flirtation of a few weeks, which
will terminate. She has loved you & I am certain
she does not hate you. Will you make one more
effort through me ? ?:
My lord mused awhile, but eventually he prayed
the Duke to act in this negotiation as for himself.
310
CHAPTER XLV
THE King had decided to honour the Prince
of Neuburg by an excursion to Hampton
Court & at the ball the party had been
arranged. The following evening every-
thing was in readiness for them to proceed thither by
water. Barges were in waiting, dressed with flags both
striped & embroidered, & hung with brocaded tapestries
of rose colour & silver, their decks spread with Persian
carpets, with a gold ground. When all the Court
had taken its place an advance was made up the grand
River Thames which is perhaps unique, & is also
the most beautiful in the world. The air resounded
with agreeable Symphonies, Trumpets, Tymbals,
Flutes, Violins, The Voice, Theorbos, Violas, and
Harpsichords. All these made up the varied enter-
tainments that were heard turn by turn, & the music
was so well harmonised that no one could find it dis-
tracting. The Foreign Prince much admired the
beauty of the Town & the great Houses on the river
banks with their Balconies, at this hour crowded
with beautiful Ladies, who delighted in seeing his
Majesty in all his pomp, & in listening to the warlike
clashing of the Tymbals & the gentler music of the
Violins.
London from the Thames furnishes the finest
panorama that can be imagined, & I do not know
where one can find a sight to surpass it in any City in
Europe.
MEMOIRS OF THE
The Duke of Monmouth, noticing that the Prince
de Neuburg spoke more frequently with Miledy . . .
than with any of the other Women, kindly arranged
that he should be placed near her, & as she was per-
suaded that if anything could bring My Lord Arran
again to her feet it would be jealousy, the recaller
of fugitive love, the awakener of the heart, she
pretended to have eyes for no one save this Prince,
& to listen to him with that delight one exhibits for
those who attract & appeal to one. On his part he
neglected nothing that would induce her to lend a
favourable ear to his gallantries, & he was sufficiently
prepossessing to flatter himself that he would not
meet with any rebuke.
Presently he said : " Do not consider me too pre-
suming, Madam, if I profit by this moment to tell
you of the ascendancy you have gained over my heart.
I ought, (I know,) to endeavour by my care & atten-
tion to serve you, & prove my attachment ere saying
anything, but the short time I shall be in this Country
is not long enough for me to dare to hope to succeed
by such a method. Therefore Madam, I think it better
that I conjure you to alleviate my pain, & agree to
this offer which I now make you of a heart which
hath never before experienced such a strong impression
as that which you have made upon it."
" I should be much honoured," she replied, " were
I sure that what you say is genuine. But what have
I to prove this ? No man has any scruple in deceiving
the Ladies, by long experience we are warned that
they are dangerous & only pretend to engage themselves
& do not really do so."
" Ah Madam, what is that you say ? " he sighed
interrupting her. " Is it possible that you can imagine
that with a person so charming as yourself a man
would only think of being loved ? You will find the
devotion is on my side, & were I sufficiently the master
312
COURT OF ENGLAND
of my destiny to stay with you as I should wish,
you would find that I was ever faithful. Alas ! why
were you not born in my country, or why must I
be banished from yours ? ' :
" Regret nothing, Seigneur," said she, " I do not
deserve this attachment, & you would perhaps be very
unhappy were you to expect too much from me."
" Oh I implore you, tell me the reason ? " he ex-
claimed.
" It is," she replied, " that I am gentle, equable,
& always in a good temper, save with those who seek
to put themselves on an intimate footing ; with them
I am strange, capricious & domineering ; they seem
like slaves to me ; I mistrust them, & mistrust myself ;
so much so that, even when I am pre-disposed in their
favour, I banish them."
" I am prepared to face all this, Madam," said the
Prince, " only consent to let me serve you ; perhaps
it may be my good fortune to please you ; perhaps
a star more benign than that of the unhappy ones
you treat so cruelly will favour me."
" This betrays vanity," said the lady smiling, " but
is not unbecoming in a Prince. Very well, Seigneur,
I will accept you as my Knight."
" And I proclaim you my Lady," he replied joy-
fully. Then, turning his head, he spoke with emphasis
this verse from the Tragedy of the Cid :
" e Paroisssz Navarrois^ Mores & Castillians? 1
1 Play by Corneille (1606-84), produced 1636.
RODRIGO [inspired with love for CLUM^NE]
Est-il quelque enemy qu'a presentie me dompte" ?
Parroissez Navarrois, Mores & Castillons
Et tout ce que 1'Espagne a nourry de vaillans
Vnissez nous ensemble & faites vne armee
Pour combarre vne main de la sorte animee
Soignez tout vos efforts contra vn espour si doux
Pour en venir a bout, c'est trop peu que de vous.
Le Cid, Act 5, Scene I. 1637 (first edition).
313
MEMOIRS OF THE
The Duke of Buckingham & My Lord Arran who
were sitting opposite to each other were too distant
to overhear the conversation of the Prince de Neuburg
& Miledy . . , but these words happened to reach
them; both gentlemen spoke excellent French. My
lord trod on the Duke's foot.
" We cannot doubt," he observed, " that the young
Prince is prepared to challenge all the lovers Miledy . . .
has hitherto had. Ah ! if I could only muster my
courage I would gladly join their ranks, & show him
that at least in England he is not the Cid."
" Here is an excellent opening for a quarrel," ob-
served the Duke. " Yet surely an amorous man uses,
in the commencement of a passion, different language
from those in full possession of their senses. But
there, do not disquiet yourself, I will look after your
interests so that you will have ample reason for
contentment."
Whilst they were speaking together Nelly, who was
in the Barge, was making a thousand sallies to the
Ladies & the Gallants. One of her schemes, which
was previously arranged, proved very amusing. She
suggested to the King that they might stop awhile,
the better to enjoy the beauty of the evening & the
music ; this done she had some fishing tackle pro-
duced ; it was all painted and gilded, the Nets were
silk, the Hooks gold. Every one commenced to fish,
& the King was one of the most eager. 1 He had
1 His Majesty was an enthusiastic angler.
" One of his favourite amusements was fishing, & the Thames at
Datchet one of his places of resort. Lord Rochester alludes to his
passion for the sport in one of his minor poems, and amongst his household
expenses is an allowance to his cormorant keeper for his repairing yearly
into the northern parts of England * to take haggard cormorants for
the King's disport in fishing.'" Cunningham's Nell Gwyn, 1852,
p. 92, quoting, Audit Office Enrollments (MSS.), v 322.
" Little was done to-day [at Windsor] but going a fishing. At night
3H
COURT OF ENGLAND
already thrown his line many times & was surprised
at not catching anything. The Ladies rallied him,
but calling out that they must not tease, he trium-
phantly showed his line to the end of which half a
dozen fried Sprats were attached by a piece of silk !
They burst into laughter in which all the Court
joined, but Nelly said it was only right that a great
king should have unusual Privileges ! A poor Fisher-
man could only take Fish alive but his Majesty caught
them ready to eat ! The Prince de Neuburg re-
marked that six Sprats would hardly suffice, & he
would endeavour to catch one or two more to add
to them ; thereupon he threw his line & soon it
appeared to be heavy. " Ah Sire," he cried, recover-
ing it, " we shall soon have good cheer."
A little Purse was attached to the hook, & on opening
this he found a gold Box embellished with stones
within which was a Portrait of Miledy . . . The
Prince gave a great cry of joy whilst the King, who
had no idea that Nelly had stationed some divers in
the river to attach the little Fish and the Portrait,
was much diverted.
" It was Cleopatra who fastened a Sardine to the
hook of Mark Antony, but you are cleverer than she,"
he said to Nelly, " for you give Portraits which cause
infinitely greater pleasure."
" They are Presents which do not cost her much,"
said Miledy ... (a little embarrassed). " To explain
the Duchess of Portsmouth come. In the morning I was with the
King at Mrs. Nells." Henry Sidney, first Earl of Romney's Diary,
1679, vol. i, p. 20.
" We have all been sadly alarmed with the King's being sick, but he
is now very well again, and I hope will continue so, if he can be kept
from fishing when a dog would not be abroad." Ibid. 1680, vol. ii,
P. 57-
See also State Poems, 1697, p. 43 ; Reresby's Memoirs, 1735, p. 100,
&c. &c.
315
MEMOIRS OF THE
what I mean she sent to me this morning to say she de-
sired to have her picture done, & would I send my por-
trait that she might see the attitude & the drapery. You
see, Sir, the usage she is pleased to make of it."
" Nothing at all events could be more favourable
for me," said the Prince, addressing Nelly, " & I do
not know how to thank you enough, Madam."
" I should be happy to deserve your gratitude,"
she replied, " yet Seigneur, you attribute to me a good
office I never designed. It is surely the Naiads of the
River who are endeavouring to earn your favour by
these attentions, & if Miledy . . . desires me to give
proof that I have her Portrait at home I will forthwith
send for it." Whilst all this gaiety took place, and
the light-hearted manner in which they spoke rendered
every thing agreeable, My Lord Arran alone appeared
in the deepest melancholy. With keen disapproval
he realised what an occasion was furnished to the
Prince de Neuburg to say a thousand pretty nothings
to Miledy, & his vivid imagination persuaded him
to his torment that she and Nelly had a secret under-
standing to adopt this means to furnish the Prince
with the Portrait. Although Miledy . . . said very
seriously that it was her wish that it should immediately
be handed over to her, my lord did not believe she
meant it, & his jealousy more than ever rekindled
those fires in his heart that all her goodness, & all her
tenderness, had been powerless to awaken.
The Duke of Buckingham, who read his trouble in
his eyes, would not allow him to remain a prey to such
mournful reflections. Approaching closer he said
in a low voice, " You are as I predicted : uneasy,
dreary, confused, & enamoured. No longer do you
pay any attention to Emilie ; for the last quarter of
an hour she has been talking to Monmouth without
your even perceiving it."
316
COURT OF ENGLAND
" Ha, my lord, is she worth troubling about ? '
demanded the other. " The little coquette is more
fitted to play divers roles in a Theatre than to command
the heart of an honest man. I assure you I am en-
tirely cured of that, and bitterly do I reproach myself
for my previous weakness when she was concerned."
The Barges were continuing to advance gently
towards Hampton Court when suddenly those aboard
saw approaching two others whose ornate magnificence
surprised them all ; they were in every way so very
singular as to arouse intense curiosity. The first
Barge was full of most proper men dressed like the
Ancient Paladins of whom we still see pictures ; in
their midst was one similarly attired but with a Breast-
plate, & attended by a Squire who carried his Helmet
which was adorned with white feathers. There was
also a green and gold Pavilion & in it the Statuette
of a Lady on a Pedestal of black & white marble
which some Lover of Sculptury had skilfully carved.
In the other Barge were Maidens dressed as Nymphs
with Quivers on their shoulders & Arrows in their
hands ; a Lady dressed as Diana was distinguished
amongst them on account of the magnificence of her
clothing and the brilliancy of her Gems as well as
their antiquity. She had no other beauty that she
valued so much as they, and probably never was
such an ancient Diana as she seen before !
317
l
CHAPTER XLVI
King, and those surrounding him were
not long in recognising that he who was in
armour in the first Barge was the Duke of
Newcastle, 1 whilst his wife who appeared
as the chaste Diana 2 occupied the second one ; but
the Prince de Neuburg, who was not so well informed,
concluded they were either a troup of Masqueraders,
or Actors who had been performing in some place
near London. He was still of this mind when My
Lord of Monmouth said : " Yonder, Seigneur, are
a pair as eccentric as any in this world. He whom
you behold in the centre of the Gentlemen is the Duke
of Newcastle, one of the greatest Nobles in England ;
he commands more than an hundred thousand
crowns rent, and like many another rich man of quality
took offence at some trifle & withdrew from the
Court to live a life of seclusion. He has a magnificent
castle in Northumberland ; it is naturally fortified
by woods, and rivers, & is in a most impregnable
situation. Solitude obliged him to give himself up
to reading ; the Duchess did the same ; in fact they
read day and night ; & as their study was indiscriminate
it happened that it chiefly consisted of romances
1 William Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle, b. 1592, d. December 25,
1676, was the King's tutor.
* Margaret, daughter of Sir Thomas Lucas, Maid of Honour to
Henrietta Maria (1643-45), m. April 1645, d. January 7, 1675. They
are both buried in Westminster Abbey.
318
COURT OF ENGLAND
& adventures of Knights Errant ; of these they became
so fond that they began to re-enact them, creating
anew in their county some of the wonders that the
heroes of old, such as Amadis of Gaul I & the Knights
of the Round Table wrought in the World."
" What an extraordinary story ! " cried the Prince
de Neuburg.
" If you doubt me," continued Monsieur de
Monmouth, " anyone of the Court will confirm what
I say, particularly the Duke of Albemarle who married
their daughter." 2
" I have no wish to hear the story from any lips
save yours," said the young Prince, " &, apart from that,
my own eyes are sufficient to tell me that one does not
dress like that without some extraordinary reason."
" Reason? Reason hath little to do with it ! " ex-
claimed the Duke. " Her Grace of Newcastle pretends
to be an Amazon ; she rides with her Demoiselles,
who are the daughters of good Houses, but meagrely
provided with this world's goods ; she takes them to
live with her, & takes upon herself to provide for them
1 "Amandus Abneus Salvinus, Roman general, who about 285
commanded in Gaul under Diocletian with Aubeus Pomponius Abbanuz,
both having for their adherents only peasants and bandits, had the
audacity to cause themselves to be proclaimed emperors." Biographic
Universelle.
* Elizabeth, eldest daughter, b. February 22, 1654, m. (i) 1669,
Christopher Monck, second Duke of Albemarle [b. 1652, d. at Jamaica,
where he was Governor-General, 1688] ; (2) 1691, Ralph Montagu,
first Duke of Montagu [he died 1709]. She evidently inherited many of
her parents' peculiarities for she was known as the " Mad Duchess."
She died without issue at Montagu House, the site of the British Museum,
in 1734.
" After the death of her first husband she publicly announced her
determination to marry none but a Sovereign Prince ... in order to
flatter her insane fancies he (Lord Montagu) courted her as Emperor of
China. . . . She was indulged in her phantasies and to the last was
served on the knee as a Sovereign Princess." Jesse's Court of England,
1846, vol. iv, p. 453.
319
MEMOIRS OF THE
as long as they enter with a becoming spirit into
her romantic fantasies. On his side the Duke repre-
sents the Knight errant ; he finds his wife reposing
after the chase in a wood beside the river ; he falls
in love ; he confides in his faithful squire ; on her part
she is possessed of an invisible island, or an enchanted
Palace, or she is Medea, or Armida, but in any case
she is utterly ravished at the attractive appearance
of the gallant stranger ! Although she is ' promised
to a Prince her neighbour, who is not a little valiant
being the size of a giant ' she declares to her Nurse
that she will * wed no one save the Knight she saw in
the Wood.'
" Then there follow all the gallantries, or to speak
plainly, extravagances, that may be imagined. They
have pleasure fetes, combats ; and a thousand other
absurdities which eventually culminate in the Nuptials
of these good people. But the ceremony is no sooner
concluded than they plague themselves to invent a
fresh Romance ; nor are the Actors or the dresses
missing. They are both fabulously wealthy and they
spend their wealth in this way."
" I could listen all day, my lord," cried the Prince
de Neuburg, " and with the least encouragement I
would set out for this castle & witness in person
what must be one of the greatest comedies ever
presented."
They were still speaking when they observed a little
boat shoot out from the side of the Duke's Barge ;
it contained his Equerry & two rowers. It approached
his Majesty's Barge, which expressly halted.
" Sir," said the Equerry, " the Duke of Newcastle
my Master humbles himself profoundly before your
royal Majesty, at the same time saluting the illustrious
Court that is in attendance. He begs to know if
there is here any Knight who will declare that the
WILLIAM, DUKE OF NEWCASTLE, WITH HIS DUCHESS
(MARGARET LUCAS)
from a print by A. Bange
COURT OF ENGLAND
beauty of his Lady is more perfect than the one whose
Portrait is under that splendid Pavilion. With your
Majesty's sanction I will conduct such an one in all
safety to my Lord the Duke, in order that they may
in an open field, discover which of the two knows
best how to defend the beauty of her whom he serves."
Notwithstanding the solemnity his Majesty had
preserved during this harangue he could not restrain
several peals of laughter at its close. Recovering his
gravity he said : " Go tell your Master that from so
far off it is impossible to distinguish the features of
the Portrait he praises so highly, but that if he will
send it to us we shall be the better able to judge if
he be right or wrong, & after that we will reply to
his challenge."
At these words the Equerry drew a copy from his
pocket, saying it was taken from the lovely original
which the Duke his Master so adored. Every one
recognised the old Duchess of Newcastle, painted as
a Shepherdess with a crown of flowers, in the same
manner as Astrea is depicted. At the sight of this
the King burst out laughing, & had he dared, the
Equerry would have joined him.
" A very lovely person," commented his Majesty.
"I am sure no one will dispute it ; that all will
acquiesce."
" This affair ought not to pass so tranquilly," said
the Prince de Neuburg, " & I desire, Sire, to proclaim
the beauty of a Lady. Here is her portrait, & I
declare myself her champion." So saying he pro-
duced that of Miledy ... & placed it beside the
other ; " That your Majesty may decide," continued
he, " which is the most perfect."
"Oh the Shepherdess ! " cried the King. " In an
encounter of this nature, Prince, we must see to it
that justice triumphs over favour, & as your cause
x 321
MEMOIRS OF THE
is worthless, I condemn you to confess immediately
that you are in the wrong, & that only blind infatua-
tion renders you excusable."
The Equerry retired to tell his Master all that had
passed. Never did a man experience greater satis-
faction ; he informed his Duchess, who felt a joy so
great that she could not hide it, and as her galley
sailed close by the Royal one she held herself so proudly,
& considered herself so completely triumphant over
the ladies who surrounded his Majesty, as to cause
the highest entertainment to the entire Court. 1
" Are you aware that there is no woman who does
more to preserve her beauty than she whom we have
just seen ? " asked the Duke of Buckingham of the
Prince de Neuburg. " A Quack, as extravagant as
she is herself, persuaded her to get a man, make
him very fat, and then distil him, saying that the
extract would prove more efficacious in rejuvenating
her than the Waters of the Fountain of Youth. She
never doubted that this secret was good ; at all events
it was rare, and immediately she sought out a young
man of healthy complexion. He was shut up and
nourished on every luxury to be obtained ; he did
nothing at all save eat and sleep. This unfortunate
individual grew so fat as to be a painful sight, & the
Duchess never omitted, every time she went to see
him, to say, < Well, my friend, art still getting fatter ? '
1 Though the foregoing is a fair specimen of the vagaries in which the
Newcastle couple indulged we must reluctantly admit that this par-
ticular happening is post-dated for the purpose of introducing the hero
and heroine at this point. It could not have been the Prince of Neuburg
who desired to take up the Duke's challenge for he did not arrive in
England until some five months after the Duchess's death. These
facts with the presence of Margaret Blagge (Filadelphe) and the inte-
resting condition of her mistress confirm the theory set forth in the
Preface that Madame d'Aulnoy had an experience of the English Court
extending to months.
322
COURT OF ENGLAND
At last he was seized with curiosity to know why she
took such an interest in his embonpoint & made en-
quiries of him who had charge of his dietary.
" ' Why/ replied the man, ' as soon as thou hast
become fully plump they will cut thee into pieces
& throw thee into an Alembic ; what is thus brewed
will be used to rejuvenate her Grace.'
" On hearing this the poor prisoner felt he would
die of terror, & from that day forward he rapidly
grew so thin that he soon resembled a skeleton rather
than a man who was still alive. When she saw him
in such a pitiful case she gave him back his liberty,
& was looking out for another to fatten, when the
King was informed of her design. His Majesty
counselled her to run the risk of growing old rather
than incur his displeasure, * for,' he said, ' he would
never, if she persisted, pardon so cruel a proceeding.' " 1
" I declare one would have to witness these follies
before one could believe them," said the Prince, "&
nothing could be more entertaining than the way
you have just recited all this to me."
Each in turn contributed anecdotes about the ducal
pair until we* reached Hampton Court.
Said Nelly : " One example was when she harnessed
eight Bulls to a Coach that she had built ; it was
such a size that there were hardly any streets through
which it could pass. She desired to go to Hyde
Park to display her new equipage, but hardly had
the Bulls started than a crowd of astonished people
surrounded her with loud outcries ; this so enraged
the animals that they kicked the Carriage to pieces
& the lady's life was in danger. Since then she has
1 Madame d'Aulnoy repeats this anecdote in French Court
Memoirs.
* This " we " is interesting as the only direct allusion made in the book
to the personal presence of the writer.
3*3
MEMOIRS OF THE
never been tempted to allow herself to be drawn by
Bulls."
" That is a very amusing incident," observed the
Duchess of Richmond, " but you will agree with me
it does not rival the occasion at Whitehall. The
Duchess of Newcastle comes to Court very rarely,
& as she amuses the Queen, her Majesty charged me
to persuade her to attend the Circle. Knowing
she had just come back from the Country I made the
suggestion for her Majesty, asking her if she would
come.
" ' I shall be delighted to do myself the honour,'
she replied, * but I must beg that the Queen will
treat me with especial distinction/
" ' I have no doubt she will,' I replied.
" ' Well, Madam, then ask her,' said she, ' if she
consents to my Nymphs holding my train all the while
I am at the Circle. In France duchesses enjoy the
Tabouret ; we in England are excluded. At all events
we should have permission to have our trains borne.'
" I eagerly promised I would speak of it, being
anxious enough to neglect nothing to secure her
attendance.
" * Assuredly,' she said, * it is a mutual cause you
plead. It will make you famous in the centuries
to come when it is read in History that it was a Duchess
of Richmond, a daughter of the brave Duke of Buck-
ingham, who obtained this prerogative from the Queen
of England ! '
" When I reported this conversation to her Majesty
she laughed with all her heart, but she nevertheless
refused to grant so great a privilege. When I told
this to the Duchess of Newcastle she was very annoyed.
" * Well,' said she, * I shall do it all the same. You
will see I am a woman of spirit.'
" Two days later she arrived at the Circle. She
COURT OF ENGLAND
was attired in a robe of black velvet, bordered with
gold, all incrusted with precious stones ; the train
was so long that the nine Demoiselles at the end of
it did not get any further than the Outer Room ;
it went right through the Apartment and looked like
a Comet. 1 I will leave you to picture if this crea-
tion did not rejoice the whole world, & if there was
anyone amongst them who did not desire promptly
to imitate it.'
1 In A True Relation of My Birth, Breeding, and Life, published
1656, the Duchess confesses that she always took a delight in a singularity,
even in accoutrements of habits (edition 1886, p. 312), and this is
confirmed by Pepys, April 4 and May I, 1667.
CHAPTER XLVII
WHILST the Duchess of Richmond was
still speaking the Barge arrived at the
place where it was intended to disem-
bark. While she & Nelly were enter-
taining the Prince de Neuburg the Duke of
Buckingham approached Miledy . . .
" You are a terrible coquette, you will certainly
in the end be the cause of some one being hanged,"
he observed, with an air of mock gravity which in-
clined to real seriousness.
Miledy . . . shrugged her shoulders, &, with a some-
what contemptuous movement of her head in the
direction of the King's favourite, replied :
" Nelly, a woman of pleasure, is not less of a coquette
than I ; but I am somewhat vindictive & it is my
desire to punish certain ingratitude."
" Ah Madam," cried the Duke, " you have succeeded
but too well. My poor Nephew suffers bitterly for
the wrath he has incurred, & regrets it from the bottom
of his heart."
" He is not of sufficient worth to be capable of such
a repentance," she exclaimed. " I have reason to
imagine, however, that he has quarrelled with Emilie,
and he thinks that if he makes her jealous she may
reinstate him in her favour."
" He certainly does not design to use you as a pre-
text, "said the Duke, "& I greatly fear that in your desire
to spite him you will spite yourself at the same time."
326
COURT OF ENGLAND
" Your charity is very well meaning, my lord,"
replied Miledy with a smile, " but despite it, you will
have a difficulty in deceiving me. I have a prejudice
against that graceless fellow that nothing will alter."
" I have not undertaken to justify him," said he,
" I am quite prepared for you to realize his culpa-
bility, to remember his inconstancy, & to recall the
manner in which he sacrificed a happily established
love for a new craze for your Rival ; in a word, to
bring before your mind all the inequalities of his
behaviour. But when you have done this, when you
have fully weighed all your charges against him,
reflect as well that it is Arran himself, who was once
so dear to you, that is concerned ; that he has come
back tender and submissive, miserable at having
vexed you ; and that, to make you forget all that is
passed, there is nothing he is not prepared to do to
propitiate you. Trust me, Madam, and before you
give him a definite conge consult your heart."
" You are very importunate," she said, " and as I
am to consult my heart you must give me time to
question it."
" No, Madam," cried the Duke, " my honour is
involved, I have promised to take him back his pardon
signed by you. Should you delay, other obstacles
might arise. I do not know that all the world is as
anxious as I am for this reconciliation."
" You have promised what is not in your power to
achieve," she said, " and I do not undertake to guaran-
tee the new Treaty you make. Is it possible that a
Minister of State can have so rashly pledged himself ? "
" Let us speak to him," the Duke interrupted,
casting her a shrewd glance ; " you must agree that
his manner is that of a man who is deeply concerned."
" That is quite true," she acquiesced, " though
probably Emilie is the cause.' ?
327
MEMOIRS OF THE
" Assuredly no, Madam," said My Lord Arran,
approaching her, " Emilie has no longer any right
over my heart, you alone possess it ; it is you alone
whom it acknowledges as its Sovereign."
" Eh," she said, " since when have you heard secrets
uttered so far away, & uttered so low that we could
hardly hear each other."
" Let me speak rather, Madam, of the unhappiness
I have experienced in displeasing you," he replied,
" of my regret and all the efforts I shall make in the
future to efface the bad impression I have given you."
" I shall make no reply until you satisfy my curiosity
in telling me by what way you overheard me."
"His Grace of Buckingham can instruct you better
than I," he replied, " for it was he who furnished
the means."
" As you wish to know," said the Duke, " I must
explain that a man came to me some while ago to
propose to make in my Laboratory that which we
alchemists call the GREAT WORK, vulgarly known as
the PHILOSOPHER'S STONE. 'Tis a dream that had
always fascinated me, and the c Philosopher's Stone '
I now wish for, is the cure of my desire to find the
real one "
" May I interrupt you my lord," broke in Miledy . . .
" to ask you if the wish to make gold is not caused
through supreme avarice ? r
" That aspect of the Stone has no attraction for
me," he replied. " I wished to find it, & to know
the secret because of the rarity ; if I discovered it
I should prevent myself becoming poor ; but save
for that, I should use it only for the enrichment of
others. This man who now came to me seemed
outwardly wise and moderate ; he had a good memory,
& spoke little but well ; he appeared quite disinterested,
but the drugs he required were very expensive. He
328
COURT OF ENGLAND
purchased these and made a commencement. The
preparations were very tedious, meanwhile he lived
at my house & put me off with a lot of fairy tales l
which a man less eager than I about the discovery
would have listened to with a much shorter patience.
In the end even my forbearance was exhausted by
the constant delays with which he fed my eagerness,
and I repeatedly told him I would listen no more to
his pretences, & that he had better make the Gold
or jump out of the window. This alternative appeared
somewhat violent, but he foresaw that he was engaged
in a very delicate matter, & eventually he came to
the conclusion that a frank avowal of his ignorance
would pacify me better than all the specious reasons
he still had to advance. He threw himself before me,
and after a preamble, during which I realised his
embarrassment, he asked my pardon ; & while he
confessed that his science was but mediocre, & not
sufficient to enable him to make the Philosopher's
Stone, he offered, if I wished it, to make me a Horn
to put in the ear, so small that it would be hidden by
the hair ; & that, with this, provided I held myself
at a certain distance, & that the wind blew on my side,
I should be able to hear whatever was said no matter
how softly it was uttered.
" This proposition calmed me a little ; I told him
to get to work promptly ; & I do not think he lied in
this respect as he did in regard to the other article.
When My Lord Arran pressed me to sue for his favour
I promised to do so, and at the same time I gave
him my Horn, that he might have a means of over-
hearing us ! "
" An unpardonable betrayal," cried Miledy . . .
" How ill at ease I should be had I said something
intended for no ears save yours ! "
1 Literal.
329
COURT OF ENGLAND
" I should not have guarded the secret less scrupu-
lously than my Uncle, Madam," said my lord, " & I
am glad to have heard something of what was said ;
/ shall never betray it."
Miledy . . . heard this graciously, but he had too
fully lost her regard for her to accord him her pardon
so promptly ; she desired he should suffer. " You
must have a very poor opinion of me," she said, glancing
at him with all the indifference she could assume,
" if you think I am capable of so lightly overlooking
your offences. Are you not aware that the greater
the love the greater the hate, when there is a just
reason for it ? '
He certainly would agree to nothing so prejudicial
to him ; he was about to endeavour to prove to her
that she treated him with unmerited severity, when
they became aware that his Majesty was landing,
& hastened to follow him. The Prince de Neuburg
pressed forward, eager to join Miledy & give his hand
to her rather than the Duchess of Richmond & Nelly
Gwyn.
330
CHAPTER XLVIII
IT was already late when they arrived at the
Chateau. The King had ordered illumina-
tions which were superb. After a grand sup-
per they went into the Grounds and were
pleasantly surprised to see, right under a Star which
shone over several Alleys, a fully equipped Theatre,
where the Actors proceeded to give a very agreeable
Performance.
The King placed Nelly at his side, the Prince
de Neuburg ensconced himself next Miledy . . . ,
whilst My Lord Arran took up a position behind
her.
Perceiving that Madam Betty Felton & Emilie
were casting furious glances at one another, the Duke
of Monmouth deemed it would be wisest to withdraw,
in order to remove the reason for their discord. Not
having his dear Mistress, the Duke of Bucking-
ham sought out My Lord Saint Albans, & they
retired a little distance so as to be able to converse
freely.
" I am delighted to find an opportunity of satisfying
my curiosity," said My Lord Saint Albans. " Tell
me, have you seen Lady Norwich ? "
" Yes, my lord, I have seen her," was the reply,
" & I am quite happy. Ha, how mad one is to think
when one is really in love that it is possible to cure
oneself ! I swear to you that my bonds are stronger
than ever, & my uneasy spirit, which caused me so much
331
MEMOIRS OF THE
suffering, is at this moment in the sweetest & most
agreeable of moods." l
" My compliments," said My Lord of Saint Albans.
" I hope that My Lord Arran may soon be equally
happy ; at present I find him wretched."
" Do you know why ? Because he is jealous,"
said the Duke, answering his own question, " and when
one is possessed of that Demon there is no sense in
the wisest head."
" He deserves pity," said the other, " and after all
that has passed he ought to be cured of his love for
Emilie."
" What ! " cried the Duke, " do you think he sighs
for her ? "
" For whom then ? " demanded my lord.
" Why for Miledy . . . / " responded his friend.
"Ah!" cried My Lord Saint Albans. "Ah,
how happy I am ! What a joy this is ! In truth I
feel sorry for Emilie, but look at Miledy . . . !
What a triumphant air she has."
" There is nothing that makes a lady so attractive,"
said the Duke, " as to recover a truant lover. Still,
the Prince de Neuburg is a great embarrassment to
her at this moment ; I am sure that she wishes him in
Germany."
" I doubt it," said St. Albans, " the attentions of
a man of his rank are never to be despised. Look at
her eyes as she turns them on him, do you call that
indifference ? ' :
" Ah you reduce me to despair, my lord ! " cried
His Grace of Buckingham, " when you so pertinently
1 This reconciliation was of brief duration, it lasted six weeks ! In
the collected works of Buckingham, 1806, vol. i, p. 5, we find a long poem
by him dated July 12, 1675, entitled " The Lost Mistress : a Complaint
against the Comtess of ." The verses are merely conventional
They have been supposed hitherto to refer to a dispute with the Countess
of Shrewsbury.
COURT OF ENGLAND
point out that ambition & frivolity are ever paramount
in the heart of Woman."
" It is not always the case," said his friend. " For
instance, I do not think you have anything to fear
from your Mistress. As for Miledy . . . , she knows
what she is doing."
It was his impression that her inclination was
favourable to My Lord Arran, but that she was re-
solved on his punishment, & the Prince de Neuburg
provided a means.
" You may laugh at me," this young man was saying
to the pretty Miledy . . . , " but I cannot help telling
you that I am reproaching myself most bitterly for
having allowed the Duke of Newcastle to pass without
taking up his challenge. Fortune, which placed your
Portrait in my hands, & caused you to honour me by
accepting me as your Lover, at least engaged me
to defend your beauty."
" Neither implicate you seriously," said Miledy
. . . " We no longer live in a time when romance
triumphs over reason, or when one cuts one's throat for
a Woman."
" But," he objected, " do not men love now as
they loved of old ? And if they have the same
emotions why should they not express them the same
way ? For me, I know well how happy I should be
were I to be able to compel the Duke of Newcastle
to admit that your charms are the greatest he has ever
known."
" And for my part," said she, " I know well how
great would have been my embarrassment at being
the heroine of such an unusual proceeding. If it
had been done with a view to pleasing me it would
have but ill-succeeded."
They did not speak so low but that a man, as
interested as My Lord Arran was, might overhear
333
MEMOIRS OF THE
them, even if he had not in addition the Duke of
Buckingham's little Horn which was a great aid to
him. He was exceedingly anxious to join in the
conversation partly to interrupt, but also to heap
ridicule on the Prince for desiring to fight a man
who had made himself, by his extraordinary exploits,
so notorious, but his respect for Miledy . . . was too
great, & he did not venture to say anything for
fear of displeasing her.
Never had Emilie passed a worse half -hour than she
did during the progress of the Play. She had come
with one of her relations, who had begged permission
of her Highness to bring her. The Duke of Mon-
mouth had avoided her neighbourhood, & Madam
Betty Felton had fixed him with such a stony stare
that he did not dare even to console Emilie by a sym-
pathetic glance. On his side he was nearly as ennuied
as his Mistresses were, & for consolation he turned
to My Lord Grey.
" I really must decide between them," he said ;
" there is nothing so inconvenient as to be placed
between two people who have an equal right to ask
for an account of your actions ; it is impossible
to favour one without offending the other, and
this is naturally not the case when one loves one
only."
" Quite true," acquiesced Lord Grey, " but with a
single Mistress when she is say ill, she is unable
to come to you without exciting the husband's sus-
picion ; you cannot go to her, and consequently you
are much alone. But when one is entangled with
three or four one is certain to find one of them
wherever one goes, & if they happen to be all present
together, well the pleasure ought to be proportion-
ately greater."
' You preach these maxims to me but you do not
334
COURT OF ENGLAND
practise them yourself, I know your ways, perhaps
more than you realise or would wish."
" Oh ! " said my lord, " what is there to know of a
man entirely absorbed by his family ; who still plays
the lover to his wife, & whose only pleasure is the
society of his father-in-law, and his mother-in-law."
" Truly," said the Duke with a mischievous twinkle
in his eyes, " My Lord Berkeley 1 is the man who in
all the world pleases you most, My Lady Berkeley
enchants you but there is still the daughter, 2 of whom
you do not speak ; she is a little miracle of beauty &
grace ; what is your reply to that ? ' 3
" My reply," responded My Lord Grey somewhat
embarrassed, " is that she is a child to whom I have
paid some little attention. But were she not my
sister-in-law I probably should not know she was in
existence."
" Do not let us say anything more about it," said
the Duke, " one should never ask one's friends ques-
tions they do not care to answer." He turned the
conversation to other topics, & confided in my lord
that he did not think he would be much longer at
the Court ; that he was very anxious to get away
from the idle profitless life he was living ; for he con-
sidered he was made for better things than incessantly
running after women, & that if he could obtain from
1 George, ninth Lord Berkeley, b. 1627, m. August n, 1646, Elizabeth
Massingbird (b. ?, d. 1708). He was created Earl Berkeley 1676, and
died 1698. Mary, fourth daughter, b. ?, m. Lord Grey 167-, d.
1719.
2 Henrietta, fifth daughter, b. 1664. In August 1682 she eloped with
Lord Grey, her brother-in-law, from " The Durdans," near Epsom.
For this abduction he appeared before the King's Bench the following
November. The trial ended in a fight in Court ! Though found
guilty, Grey displayed his characteristic skill at wriggling out of a
difficult position at the expense of another and got off. Lady
Henrietta died 1710.
335
MEMOIRS OF THE
the King the Command of the English service in
France nothing would give him greater satisfaction.
The Play being finished, the King retired & the
Court followed suit.
The next day all the Ladies came down in Ama-
zonian habits ; so debonnaire was their appearance
that the Prince de Neuburg exclaimed repeatedly
that nowhere in this world was beauty so great as in
England.
The King mounted his horse & was followed by a
large concourse, but Miledy . . . feigned a headache
expressly that she might see what My Lord Arran
would do. He accompanied the King to the Meet
but as soon as the hounds had got away, so that all
could disperse without remark, he hurriedly re-traversed
the road to Hampton Court.
He had been somewhat delayed, and Miledy . . .,
worried & uncertain, had wandered restlessly to and
fro. She blamed herself for having wavered in his
favour, telling herself that surely by now she should
be convinced as to his baseness.
But what were her feelings when he suddenly
entered her Chamber ! Her joy was so intense that
she could not hide it, her eyes & heart alike betrayed
her, & notwithstanding all her resolutions she found
it impossible not to forgive her repentant Lover.
She promised him, to convince him of her indiffer-
ence to the Prince de Neuburg, that after the morrow
she would return to Whitehall. It is easy to picture
the happiness with which this delicate attention
inspired My Lord Arran, & to imagine all the things
he said to convince her that she was not treating the
foreigner badly.
When the hunting party returned, the King at
once demanded news of Miledy . . . He was told her
336
COURT OF ENGLAND
headache was as bad as ever ; at which the Foreign
Prince was so much upset, that, anxious to please
him, his Majesty led him up to her room.
After some moments of general conversation his
Majesty retired, remarking that he left his guest in
good company, & begging Miledy . . . & some
other Ladies who were present to see that he was
entertained.
" Do you imagine, Madam," said the Prince,
drawing nearer to her & speaking in a voice too low
for the others to hear " that I enjoyed myself at
the Chase knowing you were ill ? To be away from
you during the short time I am in England reduced
me to a despair that is difficult to imagine."
" Your manner is so earnest, Seigneur," she replied,
" that I think I must answer you in the same way :
as long as it was only the question of a joke that might
entertain you, I listened with pleasure to all the pretty
things you said, but now I am speaking seriously,
& I must confess that I do not think we should pass
this evening in a manner that might cause people
to think you had a greater interest in me than any
other Lady of our Court."
The Prince was exceedingly astonished, & hardly
realised all that was meant, but he had sufficient pride
to be able to respond to her with dignity :
" I think you intend me to take this rebuke in its
fullest meaning, Madam ? Perhaps it was presump-
tion for me to flatter myself that I could really please
a person of your critical taste. I suppose you looked
on me as a poor Traveller soon to be exiled ? Well
Madam, so let it be. This moment will be the last
time in all my life that I shall say these words c I
love you.' ' With which he rose up, &, making a
profound reverence to all the ladies, retired.
They one and all looked at each other in surprise,
Y 337
MEMOIRS OF THE
and Miledy appeared more so than any which cer-
tainly should not have been the case, knowing as she
did the meaning of his departure. Though she
wished to surrender her heart without reservation
to My Lord Arran, & it was to please him she had
spoken as she had done to the Prince, it had not been
her intention that he should interpret her orders so
drastically as he had done.
The King had proposed to stay at Hampton Court
several days, but the following morning news reached
him that the Queen was very ill, & he hurried back
to London. One cannot say that their married life
was perfect but if her Majesty had not the good fortune
to be the sole possessor of his heart, he displayed
towards her as much respect & every deference as could
possibly be found in a union that was ideal. Upon
this occasion the eagerness & concern he exhibited
contributed more than anything else to her recovery.
The Prince de Neuburg, entertained by various
amusements, did not further experience Miledy . . .'s
coldness, but he decided to hasten his departure.
When he mentioned this to the King the latter pressed
him to stay at least for the festivities in connection
with his birth and restoration ; the Glorious 29th of
May. The prospective attractiveness of this cele-
bration was too inviting for the Prince to refuse.
Meanwhile the Duke of Monmouth had repeatedly
sought an opportunity to converse with Filadelphe,
but Madam Betty Felton had followed him closely
with the one aim of exasperating him.
" Is it possible my lord," she asked once, " is it
possible that you can be near a woman like myself
& still be so discontented ? "
" How can I be otherwise," he retorted, " when I
remember your jealousy & suspicion, & how you
338
^ O V
is
-J -t^
HI
- G H S
o >
ci 5
COURT OF ENGLAND
follow me about, & hold me responsible for a look
a sigh or any other trifle ? "
" Ha, my lord," she cried, " you are too fortunate
in having nothing of greater moment to charge against
me. What revolts you should rather redound to
my credit in your estimation, were your heart delicate
enough to appreciate the worth of mine. But one
should not love with the kind of love you bestow ;
you only want flirtation, not a serious devotion. I
swear I shall not accommodate myself to that humour,
& I shall be obliged if you will let me know what your
real sentiments are ? 5:
" Well, then, since you ask me," said the Duke
angrily, " I will tell you that if you make any further
endeavour to proceed contrary to my interests, or to
annoy the people I respect, I shall break it off alto-
gether ! "
" And to this I consent, you ungrateful fellow,"
she cried. " Yes, consent with a far greater pleasure
than that with which I first listened to your vows !
Offer your allegiance where you will, I resign all
the prerogatives you give me over your heart, & annul
all those you had over mine ! Love Emilie ! Love
Filadelphe ! But whatever else you do, pray do not
love me ! ! " With which words she rose to leave
her place. The Prince, much surprised, caught her
by the dress. She was completely pre-occupied by
her anger, & never noticed that he, having felt a
Case, apparently a Miniature, in her pocket, deftly
abstracted it. At that moment it was impossible
for him to leave the Queen's apartment, where every
one was assembled, and examine it, his impatience
to do so was so great & the jealousy that tormented
him was but little suited to a man so faithless as he.
This is not surprising for emotions of this class are
less the result of egotism than instinct. We may
339
MEMOIRS OF THE
wish to change ourselves but we do not like such
faithlessness in others. The Duke of Monmouth
was to prove this & not for the first time.
The King's Birthday was celebrated with much
grandeur & magnificence. All the ladies & gentlemen
appeared, it was the. custom, in unusual finery.
The Prince de Neuburg forced himself to seem to
share in the universal joy, and only Miledy, who was
able to see him in another light from that in which
the rest beheld him, discerned how hollow his gaiety
really was. My Lord Arran was triumphant alike
over his rival & over Emilie ; he tasted with unalloyed
rapture all the sweetness which accompanies recon-
ciliations, and after intense suffering nothing was
lacking to complete his happiness but the departure of
the Prince de Neuburg. Upon this point also he was
shortly satisfied.
The Prince took leave of the King & departed
without saying adieu to the dangerous Miledy . . . He
proceeded to Oxford to view that famous University,
one of the most important in England. He was re-
ceived with the same distinctions that had been
accorded to the Prince of Tuscany ; 1 they bestowed
1 Creations, A.D. 1675. June 2. The most illustrious Prince
John William Prince of Neuburg (son of the Duke of Neuburg Count
Palatin of the Rhine, Duke of Bavaria, Giuliers, Cleve, and of Mons,
Count or Earl of Valdentia, Spinhim la Mark, Ravensberg and Moers,
lord in Ravenstein, &c.) was actually created doctor of the civil law.
He was conducted bareheaded in his doctor's robes, from the apodyterium
into the convocation house, with the beadles marching before, and the
king's professor of law with him, the vice-chancellor then, with the
doctors and masters standing bare. And being come to the middle of
the area, the said professor presented him with a short speech, which
being done, the vice-chanc, created him with another. Afterwards
he was conducted to his seat of State on the right hand of the vice-
chancellor, and then the dep. orator, who stood on the other side near
to the registrary's desk, complimented him with another speech in the
name of the university. All which being done, he was conducted by
34
COURT OF ENGLAND
upon him the title of Doctor of Laws & presented
him with a Volume all enriched with miniatures
setting forth the History of the University. As he
turned the pages of this book he was struck by one
so painfully like unto the Portrait of Miledy . . . that
he could not doubt that it was a copy. 1 He sighed
over it a long time & commiserated himself on a fatality
that renewed a memory he desired absolutely to banish.
Closing the book he placed it with the portrait at the
bottom of his case & quitting England 2 went to find
elsewhere the remedy he required to effect his cure.
Permit me, my dear Cousin, to leave off at this
point. Do you find my Memoirs of interest I will
inform you further as to the termination of adventures
of which you now read the commencement. My
the vice-chancellor, doctors, and masters to the Theatre, where being
placed in another seat of state on the right hand of the vice-chancellor's
chair, he was entertained by the music professor with vocal and instru-
mental music, from the music gallery. This prince was then about
eighteen years of age, and had taken a journey into England, purposely to
pay his r aspects to the lady Mary, the eldest daughter of James, duke of
York. And after he had seen most of the rarities in the public library,
several of the colleges, physic garden, &c., the vice-chancellor, Dr.
Bathurst, Dr. Hill, and other doctors, made a present to him at his
departure of Hist. & Antiquitates Univ. Oxon., with cuts, in two
volumes, very fairly bound. Wood's Athence Oxonienses. Ed. by Bliss,
vol. iv. Fasti Oxonienses^ pp. 349-50.
1 This Work properly styled Oxonia Illustrate (fol.), first published
1674, contains forty-four architectural plates drawn by David Loggan
(1630-93) and engraved by Robert White (1645-1704). To a limited
edition of this first issue there is also a title-page of the King attended
by symbolic figures and a frontispiece of Britannia. Both plates (White,
Sculpt.), which are very fine, were by Adrian Henny or Hennin or
Hennim of whom very little is known save that he was a pupil of
Poussin and died 1710. The Britannia, obviously the portrait here
referred to, is reproduced opposite.
a He sailed on June 27 " in one of his Majesty's yachts," from Dover
to Dieppe. Cal. Dom. S.P. 1675-76, p. 184.
COURT OF ENGLAND
future recital will be more serious than the previous
one ; it will deal with scenes that are as affecting as
they are tragic. But I cannot make up my mind
to continue until I hear from you what you think
of this.
342
'
APPENDIX A
LUCY WALTER
SOME EVIDENCE FOR A BRIEF FOR THE DEFENCE
LUCY WALTER was the mother of the Duke of
Monmouth. Beyond this fact everything that
is told of her and that is little enough is
either uncorroborated or the subject of dis-
pute. When one considers the stream of books
and pamphlets that the press for two hundred years has
been continually pouring forth, in which every tiny bit of
tittle-tattle concerning King Charles's seraglio is repeated
over and over again the delicacy with which his earliest
engagement is treated, both by contemporary and modern
writers, is nothing short of amazing. From Wood's Fasti l
we learn that the King repudiated Lucy's daughter,
born, according to the usually accepted account, in 1651,
the Spring after his departure for Scotland, it is certain
he did not at the Restoration publicly acknowledge her ;
but beside this, and the current abuse with which political
rancour induced all parties freely to bespatter one another, the
definite accusations modern writers lay to Lucy's charge in the
majority date from as late as the year 1776 when Macpherson
edited the extracts made by Thomas Carte from the papers
in the Scotch College at Paris. These, ere publication, he
collated with the originals, introducing sundry reflections
of his own, so that, as Charles Fox pointed out just over a
hundred years ago, " in many cases it is impossible to determine
whether the observations are made by the exiled Prince himself,
or by him who gives the extracts." 2
1 Fasti II, 269, vol. iv.
2 History of the Early Part of the Reign of James II. , by C. J. Fox,
pp. 178 and 1 80. Cassell's edition.
343
APPENDIX A
If the passages that refer to Lucy are genuine we must not
forget they are from the pen of her son's bitterest enemy
and rival. Apart, however, from their palpable rancour,
they are hopelessly inaccurate as to chronology and other data,
as we shall show. Yet even in these critical days the substance
of them is accepted with a touching faith, and the gutter press
of the Restoration period is ransacked for corroboration ; for
Jacobite and Whig had united to hate the friendless mother of
the son who failed, the man who " had to be out of the way
before men could unite with the Prince of Orange." *
Lucy was not of the era immortalised by Grammont and
Lely ; she is a shadowy ghost in comparison to the rosy beauty
they have made so vivid for us : the intriguing Portsmouth,
the giggling Stewart, the arrogant Cleveland, the vulgar
Gwyn, not to speak of the plain little nonentity of a queen her
successor, who, if outraged as a woman, was at least permitted
to retain her dignity and reputation inviolate. Lucy's were
the days of want and penury, when the young King's life was
almost as sad as her own ultimate fate.
In his History of England, which appeared one hundred and
ninety years ago (the volume forming, apparently, the first
published attempt by one not an actor in them, to put the
events of the reigns immediately preceding, into some more
enduring form than the pamphlet), Dr. Laurence Eachard
thus comments on Lucy ; he was, it may be observed, far from
being an enthusiastic admirer of her son, and, in regard to her,
it is evident he merely voices the opinion of the moderates of
his time.
" Not long before his (Charles II.) departure (for Paris)
on the ninth of April, his eldest and beloved Son was born
at Rotterdam, who for several years went by the name of
James Crofts and was afterwards made Duke of Monmouth.
His Mother was Mrs. Lucy Barlow alias Walters of Pembroke-
shire in Wales, a person who is said to have had no other Crime
but her yielding to the charms of the young Prince, who had so
strong a passion for her that it gave occasion for many to
believe that he was really married to her though the wiser
Part of the World were afterwards convinc'd to the contrary."
An examination of between seventy and eighty lives of
1 Robert Fergusson : Ferguson the Plotter, 1888, p. 242.
p. 6 74 .
344
APPENDIX A
King Charles and histories of England have proved that
information regarding Lucy is almost exclusively derived from
the Macpherson papers afore-mentioned, and a few brief pas-
sages in Evelyn's diary. Apparently they are not contemporary
impressions but written in after years, when party feeling ran
high, and Evelyn's sympathies were with the party opposed
to Monmouth. They are exceedingly wide of the mark.
There are also divers comments of Clarendon who is either
wilfully vague or who, though it is difficult to credit it,
speaks only from hearsay. In any case his dates are all
wrong.
These things are repeated over and over again with wearisome
reiteration, and with never an attempt either to verify or
test them. They were crystallised into one, in the first few
pages of Roberts's Life of Monmouth, published 1844.
Some few years back Mr. Allan Fea formed the intention of
editing a new edition of Roberts, and though he eventually
abandoned the idea and produced an original work, his
King Monmouth, 1901, largely reflects the tone and attitude
of Roberts, which is antagonistic alike to Monmouth and his
mother.
Upon proceeding further in our search for information
in regard to Lucy we find that the British Museum provides
but two entries under her name, Fergusson's Letter and a
slight sketch included in a privately printed volume 1 containing
some half dozen Notes on the lives of the originals of some
paintings at Althorp. In the last, upon our subject, we get
yet again, Macpherson, Evelyn, Clarendon, &c., da capo,
but certain genealogical errors are amended. Mr. Thomas
Seccombe's short biography in the Dictionary of National
Biography once more repeats the unsubstantiated charges
of the biased trio, while for authorities the editors are reduced
to advancing Masson's Life of Milton, which is no authority
at all, and such irrelevant matter as an article in the Gentleman's
Magazine written as a Supplement to a view of Cunningham's
Nell Gwyn and founded on Rochester's Panegyrick on that
same person : it is quoted because of an alleged piece of
impertinence on her part, as recorded by Rochester.
(" ' 111 bred thou art,' says Prince (Monmouth) ; Nell does
reply : ' Was Mrs. Barlow better bred than I ? ' ")
1 G. S. Steinman's Altkorp Memoirs, 1869.
345
APPENDIX A
To this second query there is but one answer : " Mrs.
Barlow's " birth and ancestry were such as few need blush
for. In a note the enquiring reader is referred to Evelyn and
Macpherson.
The Birth and Genealogy of Lucy. The actual birth-
place has hitherto been disputed owing to a confusion that
arose through her brother being given as her father, for
the former also had a daughter Lucy. This brother, Richard
Walter, is again frequently confounded with his grand-
son Sir Richard Walter of the Great House, Rhosmarket ;
the mistakes were first perpetrated in Fenton's Pembrokeshire.
Hence Rhosmarket has been traditionally given as Lucy's
native village, and her father variously as the elder and the
younger Richard. The mistake has now been set right 1 and
as Lucy's father, William Walter, is always described as <c of
Roche Castle," and his name has never been associated with
Rhosmarket, 2 it seems that the former place may fairly claim
the honour. Roche Castle (now Roach) is a high lonely
fortress on the road to St. Davids, it is visible all over the county
of Pembroke, and commands magnificent views. Built in the
twelfth century, the family to which it gave its name have
for many generations been settled in the West of Ireland,
whither they crossed with Strongbow. William Walter,
Lucy's father, was born subsequent to Lewis Dwynn's Heraldic
visitation of Wales in 1609 ; at least he is not mentioned
therein. He was the son of Roland Walter of Roche Castle,
whose grandfather, Morus, was sheriff of Haverfordwest in
1565, and three times mayor. The mother of Roland was
Jane Laucharne, on the maternal side a grand-daughter of
Sir Rhys ap Thomas, K.G. She had in her veins the blood of
the Wirots, the Wogans, the Perrots, the Whites, the Owens,
and the Pictons.
1 Steinman and King Monmoutb.
8 In Lucy's youth and girlhood the property of John Barlow. After
Roche was burned the Walters may have found a temporary home there
but there is nothing to prove it. All Barlow's property was subsequently
granted to the rebel general, his kinsman Laucharne. The family
recovered it at the Restoration, John Barlow's grandson being created
a baronet. The last heiress in the direct line married the Honable.,
subsequently Sir William Hamilton, whose second wife was associated
with Nelson.
346
APPENDIX A
Four generations before the birth of William, the heiress
of his family, Anne, 1 the daughter of Robert Walter of Roche
Castle (her brother Joseph apparently d.s.p.), married Richard,
son of Sir John Holmes, of Colchester, by Margaret Harcourt.
Richard Holmes, settling in Pembrokeshire, appears to have
adopted his wife's name, though the Holmes arms, Ermine a
griffon segreant within a bordure engrailed azure, 2 were
retained. Anne's father traced his descent to Tydwal, son of
Rhodri Mawr (the great), the Welsh Alfred, who, through his
mother, was fifth in descent from Cadwaldr the last British
King. Sir Ellidir Ddu, the knight of the Sepulchre ; Ednynt
Vaughan ; his father-in-law, " the good Lord Rhys," and other
mediaeval celebrities figure in the pedigree of the Walters,
who, through various marriages, could claim the blood of
Rhodri Mawr over and over again.
William Walter married Elizabeth Prothero, daughter of
John Prothero, of Hawksbroke, Carmarthen, Esquire, by
Elenor Vaughan of Golden Grove. Elenor Vaughan was,
through her mother, Catherine, second daughter of Rhys,
heir of Sir Rhys ap Thomas, K.G., by his wife Lady Catherine
Howard, daughter of the great Surry, second Duke of Norfolk
(present creation) the second cousin of Queen Elizabeth.
Possibly on account of this, Elenor's elder brother was created
Earl of Carbery. Lady Catherine Howard was not only the aunt
of Queen Anne Boleyn, that " brown girl " whose misfortunes
were as great as those of her kinswoman Lucy Walter, to whom
oddly enough she bore a strong resemblance, 3 but of Queen
Catherine Howard, her namesake, the daughter of her brother
Edmund.
The following extract from Miss Strickland's Life of Queen
Catherine Howard can be aptly applied to Lucy.
" Although she was his subject, the lineage of this lady was,
in some respects, not inferior to his own. Through her Royal
ancestress Queen Adelicia, Katharine Howard was descended
1 Steinman's Altborp Memoirs.
2 The engrailed azure bordure points to illegitimacy somewhere
and a differencing of the Walter arms (per pale argent and gu. a chevron
engrailed az.). This is supported by Anne Walter retaining her maiden
name.
1 According to a portrait, the property of Lord Zouche, exhibited
in Brighton about eight years ago.
347
APPENDIX A
of the imperial race of Charlemagne (see Queens, vol. i, quoting
Howard Memorials). Margaret Brotherton, the grand-daughter
of Edward I. and Marguerite of France (Granddaughter of
St. Lewis), transmitted the mingled blood of the Plantagenets
and the Kings of France to her descendants, by Thomas Mow-
bray, the heir of the Albinis and the Warrens, and thus united
in a blended line, the posterity of Henry 1st and his two
queens, Matilda the good, and Adelicia the fair." 1
The great grandson of Margaret Brotherton was the first
Duke of Norfolk, of the present creation. It was because
his second and fifth wives were in direct legitimate descent
from Edward I. and St. Louis, though it was more than once
through the female line, that Henry VIII. was of the opinion
he was not demeaning his dignity by marriage with them,
and in their heraldic achievements both ladies gave much
prominence to the Royal quartering of de Brotherton. Queen
Anne Boleyn upon being created Marchioness of Pem-
broke, had a special grant in which the arms of France and
England were differenced, whilst Catherine Howard displayed
them in one of her numerous quarterings in their original form.
When party feeling ran high in later years, and the Duke
of York and his friends were stirring up the filth of the gutter
in the hope of finding the wherewithal to besmirch Monmouth's
dead mother's name and status, his real maternal ancestry was
a matter of legitimate gratification to the Duke.
Lucy's childhood is a blank. Supposing her father to have
been born in the latter part of the year 1609 2 she could not
have made her appearance much before the year 1630, and the
date is often given, though upon no known authority, as 1632.
Her brother Richard was High Sheriff of Pembrokeshire in
1655, so unless he was the eldest child he achieved this honour
at an early age.
The steep streets of the little old world market town of
Haverfordwest, and the gorse gold windswept countryside
are alike silent as to those early days. No traditions linger
there, no spot is hallowed by the association of her name, nor
1 Miss Strickland's Lives of the Queens of England, vols. ii and iii, 1854
edition.
2 Unless Dwynn compiled his material some years before he arranged
it. He gives no dates.
348
APPENDIX A
can the present representatives of the family l who still live
within a short distance of Roche's romantic old keep throw
any light on the subject, and application to the present owner,
Lord St. Davids, by whom the castle has been restored and made
habitable, only brought kindly worded disappointment.
Roche Castle was reduced to a ruin by the Roundheads
in 1644. With that part of Wales it was generally under the
command of the Earl of Carbery, Lucy's great uncle, who
appointed his younger brother, Sir Henry Vaughan, captain of
the troops in Pembrokeshire, the rebel force was led by Sir
Roland Laucharne, who was also Lucy's near relative.
Only one writer alludes to its being held by the Walter family,
" ardent Royalists " at the time. Oddly enough, many people
misled by Fenton's Pembrokeshire, make no mention of its
association with the castle. The tedious Roberts offers the
suggestion that the result of these misfortunes was Lucy's
moral downfall, as alleged by Clarendon, Evelyn, and
Macpherson. It is possible the family migrated to London.
The mother was certainly living there later, and her (second ?)
son, Justus, is described as of the Temple. Though their
home was a ruin the head of the Walter family continued to
describe himself as "of Roche Castle " until the time of Sir
Richard of Rhosmarket. 2
Where did Lucy first make the acquaintance of Charles II. ?
In Wales, according to various writers and persistent local
tradition, and it must be admitted that the crux of her defence
largely rests on the assumption that they knew each other
before he quitted England in March 1646. Definite proof
we have not, though the authorities for the statement influenced
by no ulterior motive, are surely as reliable as Macpherson,
1 Presumably descended from Sir Richard of Rhosmarket's younger
brother William, seven years his junior, being born in 1682.
2 Sir Richard's son Joseph married Dorothy, daughter of John
Barlow of Laurreny, Pern., Esq., and had two daughters. Bridget the
elder married Benjamin Stokes of Haverfordwest, and Roche remained
in the hands of her descendants until purchased in the present century
by Lord St. Davids from Mrs. Stokes Rees of Cuffern. Joseph's younger
daughter, Thomasina Walter, married John Jones of Brawdy, their
daughter and ultimate heiress, Mary Maud, married William Henry
Leech, who took the name of Jones. The line still exists in Mr. Frederick
Jones of Sunderland and Brawdy, shipbuilder. Lucy Walter's aunt,
Frances Prothero, also married a Jones of Brawdy.
349
APPENDIX A
Clarendon, and Evelyn. Mme. d'Aulnoy, as has been seen,
states that he first saw her in Wales " where she then was."
Dr. Smyth Stuart, who claimed to be a great-grandson of
Charles and Lucy asserts, but gives no proof, that they were
married both " at her father's house and afterwards ... in
Germany." 1 Mr. H. Thornhill Timmins, in Nooks and Corners
of Pembrokeshire > p. 107, states as follows : " Presently we pass
Ros&market, a primitive looking village where in the days of
the Stuarts dwelt a certain fair maid named Lucy Walters.
Here at the age of seventeen ' that brown beautiful bold but
insipid creature,' as Evelyn calls her, was discovered by the gay
Prince Charlie who was so fascinated by the young lady's charms
that he bore her away with him in his cavalcade." 2
Finally there is a local history of Haverfordwest, by
Christopher Cobbe Webbe, published 1881 in honour of the
visit to St. Davids of the late Duke of Edinburgh, in which the
following passage occurs :
"It is an historical question of great doubt [I am quoting
the words of a gentleman who devoted a considerable amount
of research to the matter] whether Lucy Walter was not lawfully
wedded to Charles II. There were some very singular cir-
cumstances connected with the Court intrigues which favoured
the supposition. That Charles when questioned on the subject
gravely denied it is quite true : but his Majesty was not
distinguished by a very strict regard for the truth. It is a
matter of fact that the reigning house had lasting and grave
doubts on the subject. It is further recorded that Catherine
of Portugal, the wife of Charles, had a firm conviction of
the legitimacy of the unhappy Monmouth. . . .
"There is another very remarkable circumstance connected
with the affair. Sometime antecedent to the middle of the
last century, under High Warrant from the Home Office,
the marriage register of the parish of St. Thomas, Haverford-
1 Destiny and Fortitude, an historical poem with notes by J. F. Smyth
Stuart, 1808, p. 36.
2 We have been favoured with the following communication from
Mr. Timmins :
" I am sorry that at this distance of time it is a decade since I was
in Pembrokeshire I cannot precisely specify my sources of information
which I managed to pick up as best I could at the various places I visited,
and by studying in the British Museum Library."
35
APPENDIX A
west, where the family of the Walters resided for some time,
was sent for to headquarters. No reason was assigned for the
requirement by those who applied for these documents, but
it was afterwards asserted and with considerable confidence,
by some who were likely to be well informed in the matter,
that the register contained the record of a marriage which
was solemnised a century before, which, if it had been proved,
would have been of some consequence as regards the succession
of the House of Brunswick. It is now of course only a romance
of history, but the register was never returned ! "
Personal enquiry at the Church of St. Thomas revealed
the story to be quite true. As the registers start from the
year 1714 it is quite probable that the preceding volume may
have lasted over half a century, for the town is very small
(present population 6000) and like most others in Wales
extraordinarily well equipped with religious buildings, besides
which every tiny hamlet of the sparsely populated countryside
has its church, so however ardent and representative the con-
gregations may be the registers with so many places to choose from
must of a necessity fill slowly. 1 Christopher Cobbe Webbe was
the pseudonym of the late Mr. John Brown. Mr. Llewellyn
Brigstocke, of Haverfordwest, his nephew, could not throw any
light on the statement. Subsequently we discovered the gen-
tleman referred to was the late John Pavin Phillips, of Haver-
fordwest, Esquire, from whom G. S. Steinman received the
particulars which enabled him in his Althorp Memoirs to give
for the first time Lucy's accurate descent. We were courteously
received by this gentleman's nephew, but Mr. Phillips does not
appear to have left any papers dealing with his investigations. 2
There is no historical proof that Charles II. was ever as far
west as Pembrokeshire either before or after his accession ; 3
1 The Roche registers do not go back to Lucy's times.
2 An amusing appendix to above traditions is the emphatic statement
of an old woman in a cottage near Roche, who declared that Lucy was
abducted by Edward VII.
a Mr. Fea quotes a tradition associating Charles in 1651 with
Carmarthenshire, the adjoining county. The Muscote family of
Langharne, Carmarthenshire . . . claim to have entertained the King
disguised as a scullery boy at Nash Court, near Presteign. The King
is said to have sent Mr. Muscote a fine carved oak chair which is still
carefully preserved (After Worcester Fight, p. Ix).
351
APPENDIX A
his only known visit to the Principality took place in 1642
when he was twelve years of age. He then visited Raglan
in Monmouth, where he was received with enthusiasm, and
on his way back passed through Radnorshire.
In March 1645 he parted with the King at Oxford and
proceeded to Bristol. In April he went to Bridgwater where
he was lodged (probably at the Castle) whh Colonel Wyndham
the Governor, whose wife had been his nurse. This woman
played a very intimate part in his life and her influence over
him was unique. Clarendon detested her and it is largely
from him that particulars of her come. He indicates, without
going into detail, that the Prince became very restless under the
grave admonishments of himself and his friends, and that
Mrs. Wyndham encouraged him in his rebellion.
It was largely to escape from these sad and broken men
that the Prince left Bristol. Though many enquiries have been
made not one has elicited a single anecdote of the boy's sojourn
with the Wyndham family. It is not even mentioned in the
exhaustive history in two volumes of the ancient borough
compiled by the present vicar (the Rev. H. A. Powell, M.A.),
and yet these Wyndhams must have had some especial claim
on Charles's generosity apart from the heroic part played by
Edmund's brother, Francis, and other members of the family,
in the preservation of his Majesty in 165 1, 1 for when in the
summer of 1649, they put in an appearance in Paris, Charles
immediately offered to raise Colonel Edmund to the considerable
dignity of Secretary of State, a proposal that excited Clarendon's
jealousy to such a degree that he prevented it. Notwith-
standing this set back, the Wyndhams accompanied Charles to
Jersey, where he was solemnly proclaimed September 1649.
A year after he was in Bridgwater, Charles, in the Channel
Islands, proved himself an expert in managing a small boat,
and passed many untrammelled hours on the water. Did he
acquire this taste in Somersetshire ? Did he sometimes drop
across the Severn to confer secretly with Lord Worcester at
Raglan ? It is very probable. After his sojourn in Bridg-
water the Prince returned for a short while to Bristol, whence
he proceeded to Devonshire and the West of England.
1 After Charles left Bridgwater Clarendon succeeded in causing
Edmund Wyndham to be denied access to their young master, poran's
Book of the Princes of Wales, p. 424.
352
APPENDIX A
If the Walter family emigrated to London about this time
they may have fallen in with the Prince of Wales on their
journey thither. They had relations (with whom they prob-
ably lodged) in Carmarthen, Glamorgan, Monmouth, &c. Or
if the meeting occurred in their journey through Somerset,
the excitable and romantic Mrs. Wyndham would certainly
have encouraged an acquaintance if only to spite Hyde.
Was it through the Middletons the train was laid ?
Charles I. was twice at Chirk Castle, Denbighshire, the
residence of the senior branch of this family. The head of it
at the time was Sir Thomas Middleton, who was leagued with
the popular party though subsequently returning to his alle-
giance. The Castle was seized and garrisoned for the King,
and Sir Thomas was compelled to make war on his own
home.
Lucy's brother Richard 1 married Barbara Middleton of
Middleton Hall, Carmarthen, and Sir Thomas's cousin. 2
1 His great-great-grand-uncle, William Walter, the brother of his
direct progenitor, Morus, who was three times Mayor of Haverfordwest,
married Alice, sister of Sir Hugh Middleton.
2 Unfortunately this branch now extinct is not dealt with in the
able article on the Middleton family in Misctllania Genologica et Heraldica
1897. From J. P. Neale's unpaged Views of Seats, item 68 Middleton
Hall vol. v, 1822, we extract the following : " David Middleton
one of the brothers of Sir Hugh Middleton, who built the new river, the
founder of the family, was the first to * settle ' in Carmarthen ; his
descendants, through several generations, maintained a high degree
of respectability in the county and allied themselves in marriage with
the house of Dynevor, Golden Grove, and Taliaris. The family
becoming extinct in the male line, and the surviving female branch
removing into Pembrokeshire, being married to one of the Barlows of
that county, the property was sold."
353
II
IN April 1646 the Prince of Wales having proceeded to
the West of England and afterwards to the Scilly
Islands, where he arrived on March I, was ordered by
the King, for greater safety, to cross over to Jersey,
where he in due course arrived and took up his residence
at Elizabeth Castle. His charming address and delightful
manner appear to have conquered all hearts, and, although
he still lacked a month to his sixteenth birthday, his tact,
and the savoirfaire with which he reconciled the many opposing
factions that found place about him, was entirely admirable.
Nor was his sojourn unconnected with romance. It is alleged
that he promptly entered into a liaison with Marguerite de
Carteret, the daughter of the Governor, and in the result a child
was born, who passed by the name of James de la Cloche, and
the mysterious secrecy of whose career is explained by the
fact that he was educated for the Catholic priesthood. 1 These
facts are not irrelevant to the story of Lucy as they illustrate
the trend of the Prince's thoughts at so early a period.
As a result of this escapade, the Prince, in June, was removed
to the immediate supervision of his mother the Queen at St.
Germains and the Louvre, where for the next two years she
kept him very strictly by the simple expedient of depriving
him of funds. 2 True, their Majesties' adopted sons, the Duke
of Buckingham aged nineteen and his posthumous brother a
year his junior, were also in Paris, and, on the dubious authority
1 See the Channel Islands, by E. F. Carey, 1904, The Valets Tragedy,
by Andrew Lang, 1903, an article by the same author in the Fortnightly
Review for August 1909, in which he proves Cloche to have used forged
papers, and for the latter's descendants, The English Historical Review,
1903 ; The Neapolitan Stuarts, by A. Francis Steuart.
8 A small grant was made him by the French King, but she confiscated
it saying it was not dignified for the heir of England to be a pensioner
on the bounty of a foreign sovereign. O. Airey's Charles 77.
354
APPENDIX A
of Burnet, did their best to counteract the pious counsels of
the Queen. Apart from their society the Prince, judging from
the detailed account of her Majesty's life as depicted in the
pages of Miss Strickland, must have found his days dull to
tears.
In England, meanwhile, his concerns were arousing much
interest and speculation there being a " persistent rumour " 1
that he had contracted a marriage ere quitting the country.
Even well-informed ministers shared the general apprehension,
as the following extraordinary communication from Hyde
shows : " I am far from being secure that the intelligence
from London of the Prince's marriage may not be true. We
were apprehensive of it before he went and spoke freely to him
our opinion of the fatal consequences of it." 2
At this point it may be as well to give verbatim the passages
from Roberts, so often before alluded to, by whom Lucy's
character and career are summed up, and whose verity as an
authority is still unchallenged. The estimate of the dis-
tinguished German historian, Leopold von Ranke, of this
garbled production, may be gauged from the following footnote
in his History.
" Roberts, who, however, I only quote when he had authentic
documents before him. Would that he had given them in
authentic form ! " 3 To prove the justice of this pronounce-
ment, in the notes will be found the original version of Roberts'
authorities.
" Before the memorable contest of the two great parties
in this kingdom had terminated in the triumph of the Parlia-
ment over the Royalists, and while the civil commotion still
prevailed in the realm with all its terrors, there arrived in
London a young person whose gentler sex disregarded the
alarms of civil strife in the desire to make her fortune.
" She was the daughter of Richard Walters 4 esq., of Haver-
1 Eva Scott : The King in Exile, 1905, p. 36.
* Clarendon : State Papers, vol. ii, p. 345 (The yth March 1647).
3 History of England, Leopold von Ranke, vol. iv, p. 250.
4 This inaccuracy was universal until set right by Steinman-am
Mr. John Pavin Phillips. MS. evidence to the contrary existed in
J. F. van Bassens' The Theatre of Europe, but this was not printed till
within the last fifteen years. The original book is the property of
" G. E. C.," Her. and Gen., vol. iv, p. 264.
355
APPENDIX A
fordwest, in Pembrokeshire, and assumed for this proceeding
the name of Barlow. . . . Eschewing the society of the
pious, she flew to that of the gay and became very profligate. 1
She had ' not much wit,' possessed little means and less grace,
but depended upon her personal charms.
" Little is known of this Welsh beauty, except what is
connected with her course of life. She attracted the attention
of the famous Colonel Algernon Sidney, of Cromwell's army,
who, being hastily summoned to join his regiment, left the fair
one and fifty broad pieces, the terms of his agreement with her. 2
" Having been induced, from whatever motive, to visit
Holland, Lucy Walters became the mistress of Colonel Robert,
commonly called the ' handsome Sidney,' Algernon's brother,
and lived with him for some time. 8
" King Charles II. then resided at the Hague and was at
that time as eminent for continence, as he afterwards became
1 We have not succeeded in tracing the smallest evidence in support
of this statement !
2 Compare this passage with Macpherson. " Colonel Algernon
Sidney who was a Colonel under Oliver Cromwell trafficed for her first ;
& was to have had her for fifty broad pieces. This I had from his own
mouth. But being commanded hastily out of London to his regiment
he missed her." The picture of Algernon Sidney " who died as he had
lived a sturdy asserter of the good old cause," such are reported to have
been among his last words, setting forth to discuss his early amorous
indiscretions either alleged or actual with the man whom he and his
party so violently and systematically assailed, is a notion too wildly
improbable for a moment's serious consideration ; and when, if point
was needed to the absurdity, the fair one concerned was the mother of
his confrere, whose legitimacy the major part of those with whom he
was allied were working tooth and nail to prove. This is palpably
one of Macpherson's interpolations. That Algernon Sidney was ever
sufficiently intimate with the Duke of York to hold discourse with
him on any subject whatever is open to the gravest doubt. From the
time of Sidney's return to England in 1667 after an absence of eight
years, he and this prince were openly hostile to one another. For an
unquestionable example of Sidney's method of referring to the King's son,
see below , p. 122.
* There is great confusion in this passage. " Handsome Sidney "
was not Robert who had a crooked nose, and like the blameless Algernon
an underhanging jaw at all, but his younger brother, Henry, who did not
in the least resemble him.
356
APPENDIX A
for the very opposite quality. Lucy Walters conceived the
ambitious design of captivating the exiled and youthful
monarch, in which she succeeded. 1 Lord Clarendon believed
that her visit to Holland was made with a design to obtain that
honour, which a groom of the bedchamber willingly preferred
her to. 2 Colonel Robert Sidney's remark upon his loss has
been recorded by James II., who attached full credit to the
truth of it.
" Lucy Walters or Barlow, now become Charles the Second's
mistress, gave birth at Rotterdam, April 9th, 1649, to James,
afterwards created Duke of Monmouth.
" Some said the child was Colonel Sidney's, whom he
chiefly resembled even to a wart in the face. James the Second
always believed this to be the truth ; Evelyn writes that
Monmouth resembled ' handsome Sidney ' more than the
King. ' The knowing world, as well as myself, had many
convincing proofs,' wrote James, ' to think he was not the
King's son, but Robert Sidney's.' It will be found that the
King believed the child to be his, and loved him with great
affection. Whether this fondness, which appeared in many
remarkable instances in later years, was genuine affection, or
from political motives is a question that will be entertained
in a future page."
Even if this sixteen to eighteen year old girl had already
become the hardened courtezan that Roberts, on the authority
of his own imagination, would lead us to think, surely the
very last step toward the end of captivating the Prince of
Wales was criminally to associate herself with the members
of a house of such uncertain loyalty as that of Sidney, and it
1 " She went to Holland when his (Algernon's) brother Robert Sidney
alighted on her and kept her for some time. The King being then at
the Hague heard of her and got her from him." Macpherson, p. 76.
2 "He Monmouth- was called by the name of Mr. Crofts . . .
but he was generally thought to be the King's son begotten upon a
private Welch woman . . . who had transported herself to the Hague
when the King was first there with the design to obtain that honour,
which a groom of the bedchamber willingly preferred her to." Con-
tinuation of the Life of Clarendon, vol. ii, 252. Who is this mysterious
Groom of the bedchamber ? Robert Sidney, despite the inference of
Roberts, is clearly not referred to. He was chamberlain to the Princess
of Orange.
357
.
APPENDIX A
is inconceivable that her own family, who clearly approved and
expedited her journey, should have countenanced such a
suicidal step. Lucy must have had both a legitimate and urgent
reason for quitting the country, and undertaking her difficult
and dangerous journey. 1 That it was both is proved by a
MS. extensively quoted in King Monmoutb^ where we learn
that Mrs. Gosffritt, Lucy's maternal aunt, to whom she had
confided the fact that she was married to Charles, was " putt
in prison about her said niece Mrs. Barlow's going beyond the
sea * and by the fact that Lucy travelled under an assumed
name. This was supplied by none other than her uncle by
marriage, the husband of another of her maternal aunts, John
Barlow, of Stetchbech, Pill Priory, Barlow Hall, Colchester,
and Rhosmarket, Esquire, Master of Ordnance and a J.P., an
ally of Lord Herbert of Cherbury and also of Lord Glamorgan,
a noted Royalist. A man of this standing, who bears in
history an honoured, unsullied name, would surely be the last
to lend himself to assisting his youthful kinswoman to adopt,
for no possible reason, a life of vice. For it is not as if the
means of William Walter were at such a desperate issue as has
been inferred. Though he appears to have been a Royalist
himself, his son Richard, in that he was Sheriff of Pembrokeshire,
1655, must have had republican leanings, and in 1648, have
been in the way to make his fortune. While Justus Walter,
another son, could the following year afford to take a valet
with him when he travelled abroad. 3 Madam Walter was
blessed with seven sisters, several of whom were married to
substantial burgesses, who were not of a rank to be affected
by the Civil Wars. It is thus inconceivable that her only
daughter should have been condemned to a life of shame.
And if, following Clarendon, we agree that the motive con-
nected with Lucy's journey concerned the Prince of Wales,
" and that it was undertaken either with the ambitious view of
becoming his wife or of occupying a more equivocal position,"
1 She could easily have practised a life of immorality in England.
The pockets of the triumphant republicans were far better plenished
than those of the almost destitute Cavaliers.
2 The information of Mr. William Disney of the Citty of West
Minister taken on oath before the Rt. Honble. the Earle of Essex
and Mr. Secretary Jenkins, Aprill 27th 1680. Add, MSS. B.M.
2809417. a See below, p. 400.
358
APPENDIX A
it is out of all reason that John Barlow would have allowed his
fair charge to have so lowered her market value as to get her
name scandalously associated with a lesser man. Interest,
if no higher motive, would have impelled him to keep her
immaculate.
Mr. Allan Fea theorises as follows :
" To return to Lucy Walter. Clarendon believed that her
object in going to Holland was with the express purpose of
enslaving the heart of Charles, but whether with the ambitious
view of becoming his wife, or of occupying a more equivocal
position, must be left in doubt. The Chancellor said the
latter was the case, but there is also evidence to support the
theory that some sort of compact was made. . . . However
this may have been when we take into consideration the date
of Charles's arrival in Holland and the date of Monmouth's
birth, it can only be said that if she put in an appearance at
the Hague after he came there her conquest must not only
have been very rapid, but Colonel Robert Sidney's possession
must have been equally brief. 1 On the face of these facts
is it not more probable that her ambitious designs led her
in the first instance to Paris, 2 that she had fallen in then
both with Sidney and Charles and that she followed the
latter to retain her influence over him " 3 knowing that he
was about to embark on the high seas ? Nor is there the
slightest evidence that Robert Sidney was at this, or any
other time, in Paris. Double duties held him fast at the
Hague, for not only was he Chamberlain to the Princess
Royal of England, consort to the Nassau heir, but he was
also an officer in the English regiment, which in the year
1572 Queen Elizabeth sent to the aid of the Dutch, and which
since then had continued in its service. Robert's great
uncle, Sir Philip Sidney, had commanded this regiment, and
his grandfather, Robert had highly distinguished himself under
his elder brother. Sir Philip was succeeded by his uncle,
" the Favourite," Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, who does
1 Much too brief for him to give an authoritative announcement
on her condition as reported by Macpherson.
2 Mr. Laws in his History of Little England Beyond Wales, 1888, first
started the idea that Lucy went originally to Paris. John Barlow crossed
over in March 1648.
8 Some Beauties of the Seventeenth Century, 1906, p. 132.
359
APPENDIX A
not appear to have shone at this conjuncture. 1 Sir Philip's
younger brother, Robert, was Leicester's heir ; 2 by another
creation he assumed his title, and throughout his life main-
tained a lively interest in the Dutch regiment with which his
family was so intimately associated. During the next fifty
years and more the regiment was constantly recruited from the
Sidney retainers, men of South Wales and Mid and West
Kent. To such an extent was this the case that when, after
its recall to England in 1665 on the outbreak of hostilities
with Holland, on the establishment of a permanent army,
the " Dutch regiment " was accredited to the south-east part
of England, and, under the title of the Kent Regiment (The
Buffs), still survives. It was therefore very natural that we
should find Robert Sidney, grandson of Robert Sidney first
Earl of Leicester, and a younger son serving in the regiment
so long associated with his family. 3 A weak Royalist himself,
with one son a fanatic, and one a republican, it is not surprising
that Lord Leicester was glad to have at least one of his family
beyond the reach of faction ; he had also a shrewd eye for the
main chance, a quality exemplified, at a later date, by his son
Henry, first Earl of Romney, and his grandson Lord Sunderland,
1 John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland
I
Lady Mary =
eldest
daughter
1551
= Sir Henry
Sidney
Lord Guilford
Dudley, m.
Lady Jane Grey
Lord Robert Dudley
Earl of Leicester,
Elizabeth's
" Favourite "
I
Sir Philip Sidney Robert Sidney,
soldier and poet Earl of Leicester,
grandfather of
Algernon Robert
and Henry Sidney
(first Earl of Romney),
and of Dorothy Lady
Sunderland,
" Saccharissa "
8 He was also the heir-at-law of Sir Philip's only child Elizabeth, who
died unmarried.
9 Historical Records of the Third Regiment o] Foot (The Buffs), 1839.
Famous Regiments, by W. H. D. Adams, 1864, pp. 76-94.
360
APPENDIX A
and the match that was in negotiation between the Princess
Royal and Prince William, of the Netherlands, about the
time Robert was despatched to Holland, foreshadowed advan-
tageous openings for well-connected English in the young
Princess's court. Robert, who never married, was gazetted
the first colonel of the Buffs, upon its being established as an
English regiment. He died two years after, at the age of forty-
five, not in 1674 as has been erroneously stated. There
is a portrait of him at Althorp, no doubt carried thither
by his sister Lady Sunderland, which has been said to resemble
Monmouth, but beyond the conventional pose of the fashion
of the day, the pose reproduced in so many portraits of the time, 1
we fail to distinguish any similarity, and the painting by Dobson
at Penshurst of Robert as a golden-haired, blue-eyed child,
thin lipped and neat featured, is an absolute refutation of the
canard.* Neither Algernon nor Robert had any trace of the florid
good looks of their younger brother Henry Sidney "le beau."
There is a theory in regard to the association in the mind of
the Duke of York of the name of Lucy Walter with that of
Robert and Algernon Sidney which so far has not been advanced
in print. And while anxious not to attach undue importance
to so vague and unsubstantiated a story, we give it for what
it is worth. Lucy Walter and the Sidneys were connections.
They had endless mutual cousins, and John Barlow was even more
closely associated with the Penshurst family. At the age of
twenty-one, while his father, Sir Henry Sidney, held at Ludlow
as Deputy (Lord Warden of the Marshes) the last Royal Court to
be permanently established in the Principality of Wales, Robert
Sidney, first Earl of Leicester of that ilk, stole a match with
Barbara Gamage, of Coety, Glamorgan. She was one of the
wealthiest heiresses of the day. Of Norman extraction, her
family had come into Wales at the time of the Conquest by
Edward L, and had subsequently intermarried with all the
leading native families. Lucy Walter, John Barlow and Barbara
Gamage 3 had alike a common ancestry. Any one who has
1 As the portrait of Edward Prodger in Hervey's West Stow Parish
Registers, p. 191.
2 Monmouth like the King had the slightly protruding lower lip of
Marie de' Medici, while Robert Sidney had an underhung jaw.
s Lucy and Robert Sidney were fourth and fifth cousins a dozen
times over.
361
APPENDIX A
the patience to wade through Dwynn's Heraldic Visitations
with its appalling Babel of English, old French, Latin, and
Welsh, will be rewarded by finding the same names figuring
indiscriminately in their several pedigrees, though the actual
blood-tie of cousinship between Lucy's grandfather and
Barbara is comparatively remote. These facts in themselves
would be of limited importance had not Barbara's dower
formed the greater part of the wealth of the ensuing Earls
of Leicester. This being drawn from South Wales the ties
binding them to the Principality were many. Lord Leicester
with his sons, Lord Lisle and Algernon, visited his Welsh
domain in 163-, and in 1642 the brothers passed through on
their way to Ireland and again on their return. Is it an unlikely
hypothesis that John Barlow or William Walter, having
evidently sufficient reasons for desiring to get Lucy abroad,
should have evoked the aid of their influential kinsmen, whose
power at the time was unique, Algernon being the republican
governor of Dover Castle, and his brother an officer in the
household of the sovereign's daughter ? The dissensions that
alienated so many families, who took opposite sides in the
unhappy struggle, then drawing to a close, do not appear to
have marred the domestic harmony of the Sidneys, who,
judging by their published letters, continued, despite different
views, a devoted family.
Knowing the duress in which Charles was kept, knowing
the character of his mother, noting that Clarendon and
Macpherson for once are in agreement, taking also into account
the date of the birth of Monmouth, we strongly incline to
the belief that Lucy journeyed straight to the Hague. Hen-
rietta, warned by the Jersey episode, and backed by the powerful
support of Anne of Austria, would have stopped at nothing
to nip an undesirable intrigue in the bud. Charles had, since
his arrival ample opportunity to estimate her character.
Spies were all about him. Until, upon pretext, he could regain
his freedom, he would never have dared to have Lucy with him. 1
A pretext was soon forthcoming.
In June 1648 a portion of the rebel fleet declared for the
King, and the sailors having overcome their officers and put
1 It is evident that he allowed her to live quietly at home until he
was on the point of reaching his majority at eighteen, on May 29, 1648,
and becoming to some extent his own master.
362
APPENDIX A
them ashore at Deal, clapped on sail and proceeded to Holland,
seeking the Duke of York, who, a short while before had, on
his escape from England, taken refuge with his sister, the
Princess Royal, to implore him to assume command. The
Princess was very reluctant to counsel her brother, a lad not
sixteen, to take so important a step. She suspected a trap,
and feared that the Duke would again find himself a prisoner ;
her husband shared her misgivings, but the Duke, burning to
distinguish himself, and doubtless on account of his long
imprisonment and recent association with his father, feeling
the wrongs of his family more vividly than anyone else, refused
to give way to either of his more experienced cousins Rupert
or Maurice of the Rhine. Eventually an express was sent to
Paris submitting the matter to the decision of the Queen.
Her reply was to despatch the Prince of Wales, to whom
York was compelled to yield precedence. The Prince of
Wales arrived at the eleventh hour, for, much dissatisfied at
the inaction to which they were condemned, the English
sailors were already regretting their precipitant revolt. The
arrival of Charles " restored their good humour but it was
evident nothing but action would preserve it." " Culpepper
laid the wavering loyalty of the sailors at the door of
James." 1
The incident created a feeling of distrust and jealousy
between the brothers which endured to the Restoration. 2
Altogether the Prince of Wales appears to have acted towards
his brother in an unnecessarily high-handed manner, it is
certain that such being his attitude he would have made
no confidant of the boy, and that all the humiliated and dis-
appointed York knew of his brother's private affairs, and
incidentally of Lucy, was but guess work and conjecture, and
were she associated with the Sidneys at all, it might be expected
he would put the worst interpretation on it. 3
To the Prince of Wales's arrival at the Hague various dates
are given, but it probably took place between July 10 and 20.
After strenuous and incessant labour he made ready to sail
1 Eva Scott : The King in Exile, p. 50.
2 Clarendon History, xi, 35. Nicholas Papers, i, 97.
8 Since this was written it has been suggested to us that, accepting
our argument, a scandal about Sidney might have been deliberately
fostered at the Hague, to hide graver issues.
363
APPENDIX A
I3th-23rd, though some authorities make his stay a little
longer. 1 On April 9 (according to the only authority and
presumably, as will be shown, N.S.) two hundred and seventy-
four days after his arrival the child, afterwards Duke of
Monmouth, was born.
1 The contemporary newspapers contradict each other in a most
bewildering fashion. See also The King in Exile, pp. 48. 50.
364
Ill
SO far we have endeavoured to deduce that the
Prince of Wales must have known Lucy prior to the
summer of 1648, that, judging from the date of
the birth of their son, and the character and
power of Henrietta Maria, Lucy was not with
the Prince in Paris, but re-united to him immediately after he
came of age and during his few days sojourn in the Nether-
lands, which brief time was far too occupied to admit of
his making fresh acquaintances, and finally, that her being
thus already known to him amply explains her leaving England
and the mystery surrounding her journey. We have also tried
to illustrate how utterly unreliable Macpherson is, and therefore
how little the following observations are worthy of credit.
" After her being with the King she proved so soon with
child and came so near the time that the world had cause to
doubt whose son Monmouth was ... he proved the likest
thing to him I ever saw even to the very wart on his face." 1
1 The usurper Cromwell was of another opinion. In his 1656 order
for the discharge of Lucy and her son from the Tower he remarks :
" The boy is generally believed to be his (the King's) being very like him."
Sir Henry Ellis (Historical Letters, Second series, vol. iii, p. 352) says
this was probably drawn up by Cromwell himself. Mr. Allan Fea,
King Monmouth, p. 1 6, states the order for discharge is made out in his
own writing. With regard to the oft-quoted wart it is not improbable
that Cromwell himself was responsible for it ; that it was the result of
prenatal influence and the outcome of the feelings of dread and horror
that Lucy Walter must have experienced in the later months of her
pregnancy at the very thought of that bold wicked man. It was on the
indentation of the chin immediately under the lower lip, precisely as
it is given in the various portraits of Cromwell and particularly in the
miniature by Cooper belonging to the Duke of Devonshire and repro-
duced facing p. 22 of the second volume of J. J. Foster's Stuarts in Art.
Court painters are courtiers and we only know of two portraits of
365
APPENDIX A
Let us now examine the evidence, weak in its individual
items, yet strangely persistent, that a marriage took place
on the Continent. Once more we get bewildering confusion.
In 1682 a novel appeared called The Perplex' d Prince by
S T . It is a poor production, relating under thin
disguises the supposed marriage of the King and Lucy. The
story was written by some one who was but little acquainted
with the secret history of his subject. Lucy is represented
as a maid of honour to Henrietta Maria, and as first meeting
the King subsequent to his arrival in Paris after the battle of
Worcester ; it is however correct in stating that her death
took place before the Restoration. In this book Charles is
represented as falling ill from the excess of his passion, and it is
not until he is at death's door his mother gives her countenance
and consent to his espousing her pretty maid of honour. 1
The description of Lucy, the records of her being so scanty,
is worthy of quotation. Apart from conventional exaggeration
it appears to be indirectly drawn from life or from the recol-
lection of one who knew her for alike we find illustrated
in it, the open ingenuous face as depicted in the various
paintings of her, and the shy reserve of the Little England
women which Evelyn mistook for stupidity. It also illustrates
the marked resemblance that her son must have borne to her,
and that has been preserved for all time in Dryden's charming,
if partial portrait, in which the King is commonly supposed to
have had a hand.
" Madam Lucilious was curiously shaped, had a round
vizage, a pleasant Countenance, and a graceful Bashfulness
which imbellished and gave an admirable lustre to her beauty,
Monmouth in which the blemish is insisted on. A head " after Lely "
in the 1903 edition of Grammont (this again did duty in Sir George
Arthur's History of the Life Guards) and a bust showing the influence
of Lely, the frontispiece of the second volume of Smeeton's Tracts
(1820). We do not know the whereabouts of either of the originals.
1 " Besides, my lord, as all who were abroad with his majesty at that
time knew the passion the King had for that person ; so some of us can
remember how, through immoderate love for her, being reduced to a
condition that his life was despaired of, and the late Queen, his mother,
receiving intelligence both of the disease and the cause of it she consented
to his espousing her," Ferguson : Letter to a person of honour concerning the
King's disavowing having been married to the Duke ofMonmouth's mother.
366
APPENDIX A
and every part of her was decked with some peculiar ornament ;
her Mind was richly fraught with the rarest qualities ; she had
a good Wit and a quick Apprehension, her conversation was
very moderate and serious, and yet pleasant and delightful ;
she spoke but seldom, but when she did her words were always
weighty and to the purpose, and withal so sweet and delectable,
that with a pleasing kind of Majick they enchanted every Ear
that heard them." The Perplex' d Prince, p. 17.
Dryden's lines read like a transcription :
What ere he did was done with so much ease
In him alone 'twas natural to please,
His motions all accompanied with grace
And paradise seemed open in his face.
Few words he said but easy those and meet
More slow than hybla drops and far more sweet.
In the statement of William Disney, before quoted, the
following passages occur.
" This informant further saith that one Mr. Gosffritt a
Dutch Merchant who lives in the Citty of London (whose
brother married Mrs. Barlow's Aunt) As he told the Informant
blaming Mrs. Barlow's mother for leaving her daughter
abroad in an ill way of living, he said the said Mother to Mrs.
Barlow reply'd her was mistaken for her said daughter was
married to the King.
" This Informant further saith that the said Mr. Gosffritt
told this Informant that one Mr. Geliot a merchant of Liege
had told him the said Mr. Gosffritt or some other person
who had told him the said Mr. Gosffritt that the King was
married to the Duke of Monmouth's Mother at Liege.
" This Informant further saith that it was reported that
one Mr. Hutton in Kings Street Westminster should say that
Sir Henry Pomeroy could give an account of the said marriage
but whether it was before or after the Duke of Monmouth was
born,this Informant could not say."
We cite these authorities, The Perplexed Prince and Disney,
first, as they contain statements which apparently Monmouth
himself was inclined to favour. We find them repeated in
Ferguson's audacious Letter to a person of honour concerning
the King's disavowing having been married, to the Duke of
367
APPENDIX A
MonmoutWs mother : " And is it not more surprising if
there had been no such marriage that Dr. Fuller, late Bishop
of Lincoln, should so often and in verbo sacerdotis declare to
diverse worthy persons, that he had married them ? Nay what
should so bias the innkeeper at Liege to make it the great
mystery with which he entertained his English guests, that
the marriage was celebrated and consummated in his house
and that both he and his wife were eye and ear witness
to it ? " *
A more detailed version of above appeared in metrical
form.
Heavens ! the weakness of my unkind Father
Better some peasant had begot me rather
He would not black himself, his Wife defame
And after marriage Bastard me proclaim.
. Pursue a Chace more of the Goose than Fox
Call'd the sham'd story of the blacken'd box
Deny the Truth long in the Ashes hid
Disowning now what Bishop Fuller did ;
How he performed the Marriage Office e'er
You could enjoy my wronged Mother dear
All other terms she scorned with her Soul,
The means were Us'd with her both fair and foul ;
Wittness yourself what Mother Queen did do,
Beside the offers that were made by you
When mighty passions brought you down so ill.
Your grief befool'd the French Physicians skill 2
1 Item 5.
2 This would seem to agree with Lucy having been first in Paris.
Is it possible this romantic seizure was really his more prosaic attack
of small pox in the autumn of 1648, and that face to face as he supposed
with death he put on an unassailable basis his youthful pact with the
expectant mother of his child, the girl whom few will have the temerity
to deny was the one great love of his life ? Henrietta was just the
type of woman to countenance momentarily this act of justice. Crazily
superstitious and bigoted, frantic with anxiety about her husband,
may she not have alike attributed the new dangers menacing him and
the fatal termination with which her son's illness was threatened to
some supernatural influence, and, as a sort of sop to heaven, consented
to the ratification of Charles's vows ? The only way to decipher
obscure history is to make the most ample allowance for the weaknesses
of its leading actors.
368
APPENDIX A
And at grim Death's approaches out did cry
O ! let me marry with her or I die :
'Twas then she yielded and became your Wife, etc. l
Determined to clear up the matter as far as lay in our power
we went to Liege and searched its archives. There is no
evidence that Charles II. was ever there. Peace was not
established between the Dutch and the Spanish until the
signing of the treaty of Munster on the fatal date of January 30,
1649, which concluded the Thirty Years War. The Dr. Fuller
here quoted was the compiler of Fuller's Worthies, who died
1661. He was not out of England during the critical years.
Another Bishop of Lincoln has been cited by Disney.
"This Informant further saith that it being a generall
known in the County of Lincoln that Dr. Tudor late Bp. of
Lincoln had married the King to Mrs. Barlow mother of the
Duke of Monmouth, and that the said Bp. had himself owned
the same at some visitation within his Diocesse. This Informant
desired one Mr. Walker of Bernards Inn to enquire of Mr.
Formory of Davys Inn (who married a neer relation of the
said Bp. Tudors) whether the said Bp. had ever discoursed
of any such thing or owned the doing of it. Mr. Formery (sic)
told Mr. Walker that haveing perposely inquired of the said
Bp. some time back before his death concerning the same, the
said Bp. did positively deny that ever he had married the said
Mrs. Barlow to the King and did clearly disown the same as
the said Mr. Walker told the said Informant. . . .
" This Informant farther saith that somebody (but he
cannot tell who) named one Dr. Clare to him as a person that
was said to have married the King to the said Mrs. Barlow, and
that Mr. Fabian Philips was said to have known the sayd Dr.
Clare and was a person likely to give an account of him.
" This Informant being asked whether any person did desire
him or employ him to make these enquiries, He saith that
no person did ever desire or employ him therein unless Col.
Mansell did but that he did it merely out of curiosity and
folly that he never did talke so much with any person in the
world concerning it as with Colonell Mansell."
Mr. Fea in King Monmoutb quotes the journal of John
1 State Poems, vol. iii, p. 213. The Obscure Prince, or the Black Box
boxed.
2 A 369
APPENDIX A
Patterson, Archbishop of Glasgow under date of February 20
(1696?) : " Sr J. Cooke told me that E. Newburgh told him
that he was witnes to K Ch marriage wth D. Monmouth
Mother and that Prodgers and Anoyr also werr so too." 1
Then we have the statement of Smyth Stuart that Charles II.
was twice married to Lucy " both at her father's house and at
Cologne in Germany." 2 The King was not at Cologne
until 1654, Macpherson says, " when the King went to Germany
she imposed on Sir H. de Vic the King's resident at Brussels
to go along with her to Cologne and ask leave to marry him
but all in vain." This passage is very obscure; some read it to
marry Charles, others Sir H. de Vic. 3
The version of the marriage to which most credence was
attached was the one involving the name of Dr. John Cosin,
who in 1648-49 was Protestant chaplain in the suite of the
Queen Mother, and subsequently created Bishop of Durham.
In 1680 there appeared a pamphlet entitled An Appeal from
the Country to the City, which violently attacked the Duke of
York and as eagerly championed the cause of Monmouth.
This is commonly ascribed to Ferguson, who however repudiated
it. It was afterwards affirmed by the Monmouth party that
the Duke of York and his friends, alarmed at the ascendancy
of the Protestant Duke, raised a false issue, by putting sedulously
about a story that the certificate of the marriage as solemnised by
Cosin was placed in a black box which the Bishop, who had died
some eight years before, had confided to his son-in-law, Sir
Gilbert Gerrard. When this story had become the talk of the
1 The original is preserved at Dysart House, Fife. This plethora
of possible clergy recalls to mind the numerous train of pretenders to the
dangerous honour of having, nearly a century and a half later, presided
at the espousals of Mrs. Fitzherbert and George IV. And to com-
plete the parallel the marriage ceremony in the latter case was per-
formed twice, by a clergyman and a priest.
2 His authority was probably tradition handed down from both his
father and mother. The former was Monmouth's only surviving child
by Lady Wentworth, the latter being the Duke's granddaughter. Her
father, Major-General James Crofts, was an illegitimate son of Mon-
mouth. See the notes to Destiny and Fortitude and Fea's Some Beauties
of the Seventeenth Century. Throughout his statement Smyth Stuart
says nothing about a meeting in Wales.
s SirH. de Vic was the uncle by marriage of Marguerite de Carteret,
having married her father's sister.
370
APPENDIX A
town a sudden enquiry was made into the matter, on April 26,
1680, and Sir Gilbert Gerrard and a number of other people
were submitted to an exhaustive examination, the result of
which was to prove conclusively that the black box was the
veriest myth. But the question of the marriage was left as
unsettled as before. That this issue would result had not
entered into the calculations of the York faction, but it was
rudely brought home to it, on May 15, by the publication of
Ferguson's daring challenge A Letter to a person of honour
concerning the black box. This has been described as " one
of the most bold and notable efforts that ever was made by
any faction mentioned in history." 1
"My Lord,
!< You are pleased to command me to give you some account
of the foundation of that report which hath arrived with you
concerning a black box, and withal to let you know how Sir
Gilbert Gerard acquitted himself at his appearance before the
king and council, in reference to that affair. As to the first
I must crave leave to distinguish betwixt what is material in
that business, and what is meerely. circumstantial, and serveth
only by way of parade. Your lordship* whose conversation
hath given you great advantages of knowing the reports of
the world in relation to the king's marriage with the Duke
of Monmouth's mother, can easily recollect that there was never
so much as a suggestion given out, till of late, of any such thing
as a black box ; nor of a writing importing a contract consigned
by the late Lord of Durham, (Dr. John Cosin) to the custody
of Sir Gilbert Gerard. And had there been any thing of that
consequence committed to and entrusted with him, he is both
a person of that honour and courage as to have dared to have
owned and justified it, and a gentleman of that discretion and
wisdom, that he would ere this have acquainted the parliament
with it, to whom both the cognizance and decision of a matter
of so grand importance do properly belong ; but in truth, the
whole referring to the black box is a mere romance, purposely
invented to sham and ridicule the business of the marriage,
which indeed hath no relation to it. For they who judged
it conducible to their present interest to have the Duke of
Monmouth's title to the crown not only discredited, but
1 J. Fergusson's Ferguson the Plotter, 1888, p. 46.
371
APPENDIX A
exposed, thought it necessary, instead of nakedly enquiring
whether he be the king's legitimate or only natural son, to
bring upon the stage a circumstance no way annexed with
it, supposing that this being found a fable, the marriage itself,
of the king with the duke's mother, would have undergone the
same censure. But by what I do perceive they were mistaken
in their measures, seeing most men know how to separate
what they endeavoured so artificially to have interwoven :
and all that I can apprehend they are like to get by it, is the
raising a devil they will not easily lay.
" For, my lord, it is in the first place apparant, that the
starting of this business is to be wholly ascribed to the Duke
of York, and those under whose conduct he regulates himself
and his concerns. Had any others been the first movers in
it, you may be sure they would never have ventured it before
the council as it is now influenced and moulded, but they would
have waited till the sitting of parliament, where they might
expect nothing but impartiality and justice,
" In the second place, the very intimation that any< beside
the Duke of York, doth so much as pretend a title to the crown,
will operate with many to a belief that it is not without reason
that he doth so. For the only way to undeceive men in a matter
of vain and groundless credulity, is to neglect and despise them ;
whereas all endeavours to convince them do but contribute
to the strengthening them in their faith. What will the people
say ? But that if the Duke of Monmouth was not the legi-
timate heir, would the papists, by whose inspirations the Duke
of York governs himself, so effectually bestir themselves as to
desire that an affair of so vast importance, and wherein the whole
kingdom is concerned, should be judged of by twenty or thirty
persons, who have neither legislative nor judicial power ?
" And in the third place, should they compass all that they
can propose to themselves from the board, yet it would no way
advantage the Duke of York, nor give the least prejudice
to the Duke of Monmouth, providing his claim be just, and can
be evidenced to be so, before the great representatives of the
nation. For, beyond all peradventure, these things, howsoever
resolved upon and determined at the council, will be called
over again by the parliament : nor will the opinion of the table
balance that great and wise body to judge otherwise, than as
their consciences, upon a hearing of the whole matter ? shall oblige
372
APPENDIX A
them. And of what little significancy the resolves of the council,
though stamped and enforced with the authority of a king, are
to the imposing a supreme ruler upon the nation when a legal
claim lies in opposition, we are sufficiently instructed by the
instance of Jane Gray ; though a lady of those endowments,
which few of either sex ever paralleled, and recommended
at that time to the nation by many inducements and
motives.
" In the fourth place the method of managing this affair
gives us more surprize than all the rest, and seems wholly
calculated to intricate matters, rather than clear them. For
your lordship, and all others who are masters of that sense
which you possess, would be ready to conceive that the main,
if not the only thing inquired into, should be, Whether the
king was really married unto Madam Walters, and whether
the Duke of Monmouth was born in lawful wedlock ? But
instead of this, all the mighty inquisition hath been, Whether
this or that person has heard of a Black Box, or of a contract
referring to the king's marriage with that lady, committed
to the keeping of Sir Gilbert Gerard. Now what is all this to
the reality of the marriage, seeing it might be transacted,
as most other marriages are, in verbis de presenti, and of which
no other proof can be expected besides the testimony of such
as were personally present ?
" Fifthly, The persons whom they have in this whole
matter summoned before them and examined, adds to the
suspicion and increaseth the astonishment. For people
who think congruously to the subject before them, had con-
ceived that the main scrutiny would have been either in
reference to the assurances given to the Countess of Weems,
concerning the legitimacy of the Duke of Monmouth before
she disposed her daughter in marriage to him, or else, that all
the examinations relating to this business would have been
principally confined to those who were beyond sea with the
king, when this marriage is supposed to have happened. But
all this seems to have been industriously waved ; and in the
room of these, a few persons have been brought before, and
interrogated by the council, who could never be supposed to
have heard otherwise of it, than by way of vulgar tattle. And
as I dare boldly affirm that there is no one person, who
is accustomed to the fellowship of the town, who has not
373
APPENDIX A
heard of such a marriage, so it is uncontroulably known that
there was, in Oliver's time, a letter intercepted from the
king to the said lady, then in the Tower, superscribed, To his
wife. Nor is it unknown with what homage the king's party
in England, at that time, paid their devotion and testified
their obedience to her. For as they addressed her upon the
knee, so by that, and many other symbols, they declared they
esteemed her for no less than the lawful wife of their king and
master."
The essay is so admirable we wish we could quote it in
extenso.
The High Tory party not being able to think of any effective
retort bore these home truths in more or less dignified
silence, and a month later Ferguson again returned to the
charge in A letter to a person of honour, concerning the
King disavowing having been married to the Duke of Mon-
mouttfs mother. 1 To both these pamphlets we have already
had occasion to refer. 2 The fact that Monmouth's opponents,
taking the bull by the horns, endeavoured to discredit Cosin
from the first, shows that with him lay their fears and he is
certainly the most likely man, particularly if the Queen-Mother
were a party to the match. Her patronage of the child,
the interest she took in him from the first, and her countenance
of Lucy are equally remarkable, and no less so is the fact that
she and her daughter Mary, of whom it is observed " an
intense consciousness of what she owed to her dignity had
always been one of her most marked characteristics," 3 and
who continually cut herself off from pleasures rather than
sacrifice her pride and precedence, should refer to his wife,
a term they " invariably used when speaking of Lucy Walter." 4
As late as 1654 tne Princess Royal wrote : " your Mothere says
the greatest thankfulness she can show for the honnour of your
1 On April 26 Charles had published one of his periodic denials.
2 Ferguson, who died a Jacobite, in his later days expressed hearty
regret for having written these pamphlets, but though then animated
by entirely different principles he makes no reference to their being
fallacious or exaggerated. J. Fergusson's Ferguson the Plotter, 1888,
p. 385, quoting his comments on the catalogue of his works now in the
Advocates' Library, Edinburgh.
8 Algernon Cecil : Five Stuart Princesses. Edited Rait, p. 195.
* Allan Fea : Some Beauties of the Seventeenth Century, p. 135.
374
APPENDIX A
kind remembrance is to have a special care for your wife," l
and then follow the usual innuendoes in regard to Lucy's
inconstancy in which Mary was such an adept.
We search in vain for any evidence that Henrietta extended
the remotest favour to Catherine Peg and her children, or to
any of the other women with whom her son, the King, consorted
at a later date.
Smyth Stuart inclines to the Cosin theory and mentions
him by name in his poem ; in his notes to it he points out
that the " public declaration was considered as confirming
rather than denying the fact ; 2 and the priest who per-
formed the ceremony was promoted to a bishopric to concea
it. The Duke of Monmouth was brought up under the
particular care of his grandmother Henrietta Maria, queen-
dowager at Paris, in a public and honourable manner, 3 and
never associated with the King's natural children.
" Charles loved the Duke of Monmouth's mother to a degree
of the most romantic excess." *
Mrs. Everett Green speaks of "an unproved though not
improbable legitimacy." 5 Charles Fox calls it a " con-
troverted fact." 6 Von Ranke obviously regards it as an open
question. " Lucy Walters the wife or as some say the
mistress of Charles II. and mother of the Duke of Mon-
mouth." 7
1 Clarendon State Papers II, p. 419.
3 It was clearly inspired by the Duke of York, whose friends after the
death of Charles II. went to the incredible absurdity of proposing to
make it an act of high treason even to affirm a belief in the legitimacy
of Monmouth. C. J. Fox : Early History, p. 106. CasselPs edition.
It only goes to show how much an enquiry was feared. See also
Commons Journal, 1685, p. 737, col. i.
3 " In Paris her (Lucy's) son had once been greeted as Prince of Wales."
Leopold von Ranke : History of England, translated 1875, vol. iv, p. 92.
The title of Prince of Wales had formerly needed a special creation,
but the custom had passed into abeyance, Charles II. was merely called
by that name. The formal creation was revived in 1688, and has
continued to be practised ever since.
* Destiny and Fortitude, pp. 50-51.
5 Lives of the Princesses, vol. v, p. 229. P. 106.
7 Report of the Annual Meeting of the Cambrian Archaeological
Society. Arcbaologia Cambrensis, vol. ix, Rep. 183.
375
APPENDIX A
We have already quoted Ferguson's statement of the
assurance given to Lady Wemyss as to her future son-in-law's
legitimacy, i Her brother-in-law, William Erskine, a son of
the Earl of Mar, was cup-bearer to the King and presided over
Lucy's latter days. 2 It was " particularly during her last
hours when in prospect of approaching judgement " that
Lucy so positively affirmed herself the wife of Charles. 3
Which brings one to the consideration of a Scotch marriage.
The point is beside the question in English law and has been
overlooked by modern writers. It was most ably argued at the
time in a lengthy pamphlet and we may say the writer proves
his case to the hilt.
" The Right of Primogeniture in succession to the Kingdoms
of England Scotland y Ireland as declared by the Statutes
2$.E 3. Cap. 5. and by Kenneth $rd and Malcolm the Second
Kings of Scotland as likewise H. J made by a Parliament of
Ireland, with all the objections answered and clear probation
made, that to compass or imagine the Death exile or disin-
heriting of the King's Eldest Son is High Treason.
" To which is added an answer to all objections against declaring
him a protestant successor with reasons shewing the fatal dangers
of neglecting the same.
" London. Printed for the Author 1681."
In the British Museum this work is catalogued under the name
of W. Laurence, and the general style is even more confident
than in Ferguson himself. Neither Lucy nor her son is men-
tioned by name but the date 1681 is that of the zenith of
Monmouth's career. The first twenty-two pages argue that
1 His Majesty's attitude in regard to the boy in those early days can
only be called criminal in its selfishness : his ordering him to keep his hat
on when dancing with the Queen ; his permitting him to wear royal
mourning, his creating his bride a duchess in her own right upon their
marriage, as if otherwise she was not of sufficient importance. If
Monmouth was but illegitimate why, there being a precedent, was not
Lady Isabella Bennet, who was also a great heiress, raised to similar
dignities or at least created a peeress when she married the Duke of
Grafton ?
Steinman quoting Bishop Rennet's Register and Chronicle. See also
King Monmouth, p. 22.
3 Ferguson : Letter concerning the Kings disavowing, S3c. Item 5.
376
APPENDIX A
a Scotch marriage was automatically achieved by consummation,
continued cohabitation, and common report that she was his
wife. Coming to detail, and replying to what was then evi-
dently held an unanswerable objection to the "not being of
the King's eldest son," namely that his mother was never
recognised as queen, The Right of Primogeniture asserts that
by the Act of Edward III. the words Madame sa Compagne
are wrongly translated as our Lady and Queen and should be
our Lady his Companion. By the law of the Saxons the King's
wife held no regal status.
Our author continues with a good deal of ingenuity :
" Now that this Lady Mother was Madame sa Compagne
which are both the words and the intentions of the statute, is
so known as need not to be proved by Witnesses. . . For she
had the honour to be Primus Amor, x the first Lady Companion
of the Prince, the Raies of Whose Favour cast upon her, made
the lustre of those graces rarely cojoined in the same person,
the more illustrious ; for she was a Virgin and not prepossessed
by another ; she was a Protestant and not a Papist ; She was a
Native and not a strange woman ; She was a subject and not
Imperious. In her were conjoined Beauty with Chastity
Greatness with Humility, Treasure with Frugality ; Fidelity
with Adversity. Though she did not reign with him to be
called Queen she suffered with him, and was partaker of all his
troubles ; no Bloudy Wars no Seas no Foreign countries could
fright her from him. But as if the Soul of that sacred Queen
Elenor the Companion of the famous Edward, in his Wars to the
Holy Land had transmigrated into her Body, she led the
pilgrimage of her life with him whithersoever he travelled ; and
though she had no Crown in her Life She was faithful to Death
and beyond Death, left him such a pledge of affection as is
hoped by God's mercy will endear her memory to all Protestants
1 If James de la Cloche was the King's son, which is doubtful, this
statement is inaccurate but Marguerite de Carteret was never publicly
associated with Charles as Lucy was, indeed her identity was unknown
until the present century and for a Scotch marriage to be established,
the man and woman must for some period have lived openly together.
There was probably some amour, " innocent " or otherwise, between
Charles and Marguerite, and her son got hold of some particulars and
endeavoured to trade on them.
377
APPENDIX A
in the three Kingdoms, which will evince to all except the
Malicious."
Now although this point seems over nice to us (in that if
Lucy was the King's lawful wife, her son was assuredly born
Duke of Cornwall and Rothesay), as a matter of fact it had
caused endless annoyance to Henrietta Maria, the gravest
aspersions had been cast upon her on account of her refusing
to be crowned. In 1652 Cromwell made this the excuse of
refusing to pay her dower, he said : " She has never been recog-
nised as Queen Consort of Great Britain by the people." 1
Many similar references are to be found in history. Charles II.
might have had a greater fellow feeling with his son than he
displayed, seeing that he had so often been within an ace of
being branded with the objectionable epithet of bastard
himself ; for years the extreme republicans made half-hearted
efforts to establish the irregularity of his birth.
The pamphlet not impertinently goes on to draw attention to
the fact that it was difficult for Charles, had he so desired
while out of England, to marry Lucy legally and according
to prayer book. For the prayer book had been abolished by the
rebels, so effectively, that a special law had to be passed after
the Restoration (12 Car. 2. 33) enacting "all marriages by
pretence or colour of Any Ordinance of Parliament since May
1642 shall be adjudged of the same force and effect as if
solemnised according to the Church of England," and further
an Act (29 Car. 2. 1677) for " naturalizing the children of his
Majesty's English subjects born in foreign countries during the
late troubles."
Our author drily remarks, " that even more necessary is an
act legitimatising children of British parents born out of
England between 1641-60 " ! Without going into the lengthy
parallel this author draws between the varying legal status of
the " King's Eldest Son " and Queen Elizabeth, we cannot resist
reprinting one of his lesser arguments, that the kingly office
is a priestly one, and if a clergyman may marry himself what is
to prevent a king doing the same thing ! 2
1 Carte's Life of Ormonde. Henrietta informed Mazarin with much
spirit that if she a daughter of France was not the wife of her children's
father, her disgrace was more shameful to France than to herself,
Mme. de Mottville, vol. iii, 192.
2 It was indeed the custom of the Ottoman Emperors.
378
APPENDIX A
All these theories would no doubt have been treated with the
greatest respect had the blue flag in 1685 proved victorious.
When Monmouth was preparing for his last agony on the
morning of July 15, 1685, his wife was visited in the Tower
by his uncle who breakfasted with her and handed her certain
papers. 1 According to the Memoirs of Sheffield Duke of
Buckingham they were on unwisely intimate terms. 2 From
that time she became very arrogant, and lived at Dalkeith
in great state, being attended by pages and served on the
knee in regal style. Lady Margaret Montgomerie, being
a cousin, and therefore privileged, was allowed to be seated
at table during meals, all the other guests had to stand. 3
Finally we are permitted to quote from a communication
we received from the late Sir Frederick Barnewell, Bart.,
dated May 26, 1905. " In reply to your letter the following
is all I can tell you on the subject of the supposed marriage
between Charles II. and Lucy Walter. A good many years
ago the late Sir Bernard Burke whom I knew very well and who
was intimate with the late Duke of Abercorn told me that he
(the duke) hiad told him that he had heard from the late Duke
of Buccleuch that he one day, looking through papers in the
muniment room at Dalkeith came across the marriage certificate
of Charles II. to Lucy Walters, that after considering the
matter for some time he decided to destroy it and thereon
threw it into the fire and it was burned. I think it was a great
mistake as it was a document of historical interest and I believe
the Duke of Abercorn was of the same opinion. This is the
story as I told it to our mutual friend Mr. W. H. Wilkins."
1 Stannier Clarke, p. 38, vol. ii (note). 2 P. 12.
8 Sir William Fraser's Scotts of Buccleuch, vol. i, p. 456.
" The Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth survived the catastrophe
of her husband for many years during which she was resolute in asserting
her right to be treated as a princess of the blood." Sir Walter Scott's
notes to Dry den, vol. ix, p. 57, 1808.
Dr. Johnson in his Life of Gay comments on her being " inflexible
in her demand to be treated as a princess." Lives of the Poets, vol. ii
p. 268, Ed. Hill, 1905.
In several of the charters granted to her as superior of the town of
Dalkeith she even adopted the somewhat imperial style of Mighty
Princess. The Scotts of Buccleuch, vol. i, 456.
Her will in the plural like a Royal proclamation is given at length. Ibid,
vol. ii, 325-8.
379
1
IV
Prince of Wales returned to Holland in
September. He had displayed the most gallant
bravery and advanced up the mouth of the
Thames, but, meeting with a repulse, following
the disaster of Preston and the fall of Col-
chester, he was faced with the alternative of sailing for
Scotland, which meant delivering himself as a bound victim
to the Presbyterians and sacrificing to the Covenant, or
returning to the Lowlands for supplies. Upon his arrival
there his nominal subordinates, despite his protests, shipped
Prince Rupert as a commander ; the latter being prepared to
lead them on a filibustering expedition.
Almost immediately Charles sickened with small pox. In
Mrs. Everett Green's Lives of the Princesses, vol. v, p. 150,
it is stated he was taken ill the following November, but
there is extant a letter to him by Charles I. written at the
beginning of that month expressing the hope that by the time
it reaches him he will be convalescent. 1
After his recovery he continued to live for some time
quietly at the Hague, enjoying the hospitality of his devoted
sister the Princess Royal, and it was while under her influence
and that of Lucy whom he loved so well, that he performed
the beautiful action of sending the cartes blanches to his
father's oppressors in the vain hope of preserving his life.
In this unpretentious, high-souled endeavour, it is difficult to
recognise the Charles of Whitehall of a generation later.
A significant little side-light on the position that Lucy
occupied in these early days is afforded by the Memoirs of
the Princess Sophia, Electress of Hanover, the mother of George I.
and the youngest sister of Prince Rupert. At that time she
was living in exile with her mother, the Queen of Bohemia, at
the Hague, and was on terms of intimacy with her first cousins
1 MS. Harl. 6988-134.
380
APPENDIX A
the children of the King of England. She was six months the
junior of the Prince of Wales of whom she says : " He and I
had always been on the best terms, as cousins and friends, and
he had shown a great liking for me with which I was much
gratified. One day, however, his friends Lord Gerit * and
Somerset Fox, 2 being in want of money, persuaded him to pay
me compliments on the promenade at the Vorhoot. 3 Among
other things he told me that I was handsomer than Mrs.
Berlo and that he hoped soon to see me in England. I was
surprised by this speech and learned afterwards that Somerset
Fox's object was to induce me to ask Lord Craven 4 for money
for the King, which he meant to share with his comrade Lord
Gerit. I was highly offended." 6 Not, it will be observed,
because her cousin chose to compare her high-born, and in-
tensely proud, self with a woman whom her enemies would
have us believe was of infamous repute, but because, by
flattery, he would have employed her to his ends. Looking
back from middle age it is evident it does not even occur to
Sophia, who invariably referred to the gently-born wife of
her husband's brother, as that little " clot of dirt," 6 and who
throughout her life was more than punctilious of her dignity
that her cousin, in discussing his mistress with a young girl,
not out of her teens, was acting with the grossest indecency.
If Lucy were of the character Macpherson, Evelyn, and
Clarendon would have us suppose, is it likely that Sophia,
though she might have been secretly aware of her existence,
would have permitted her name to be mentioned in her
presence, or that the shrewd Charles, fresh from the punctilious
Court of Anne of Austria, would seek her favour by such a
comparison ? Nor is her unconscious tribute to Lucy mini-
mised by the fact that Sophia when dealing with this period
of her life admits she freely speculated as to the possibility of
a match between herself and the Prince. The Lutheran
1 Charles Gerrard, fourth Baron Gerrard of Bromley, b. 1634, d. 1 ^7-
2 The name of Somerset Fox frequently occurs in the Cal. Dorn.
S.P. Car. II.
3 The " Mall " of the Hague.
* The cavalier servante of her mother, the Queen of Bohemia.
5 Memoirs of Sophia, Duchess of Hanover, 1681. Trans. 1888.
6 Cf. the early chapters of W. H. Wilkins' The Love of An Uncrowned
Queen.
381
APPENDIX A
Church allowed a plurality of wives to princes, a licence of
which Sophia's own brother Charles Louis took actual
advantage. 1 In 1 68 1, with the pretensions of her own line
possibly already maturing in her alert and active brain,
for the Duke of York and all who professed his religion were, in
England, at the height of their unpopularity ; one of his
daughters, being childless, after several years' marriage, and the
other unwed, it is not to be expected that Sophia would
therefore make any comment on the alleged legitimacy of
Monmouth, unless she had evidence to adduce to prove it a
fallacy, and obviously she had not, then for her very silence
is significant. Nor was the claim of the Duke, at this moment
in the zenith of his power, beneath her notice.
The murder of the King took place in January, and, on
the uncorroborated authority of a party pamphlet, his grandson,
destined to the same violent end, was born on April 9.2 This
publication is not accurate in other respects but the date is
quoted by all succeeding historians. From its general style
it was probably written up by some partisan of Monmouth
who strung together the fragmentary early memoirs of the
Duke with the detailed records (probably preserved by his
secretary) of his life after he came to England, together with
whatever other matter he succeeded in collecting elsewhere.
As the Reformed Calendar was in general use on the Continent
we may assume the date, probably supplied by Monmouth
himself, to be New Style. Amazing to relate, though Clarendon
was in attendance on his young master at the time, he either
knew nothing of the boy's birth, or deliberately misrepresented
it, for he describes him in July 1662 as " a youth of about ten
1 Cf. La vie et Amours de Charles Louis Electeur Palatine, 1697,
p. 99 onward where the menage a trois of Charles Louis, his Electress
Charlotte, daughter of William V., Landgrave of Hesse, whom he married
February 20, 1654, and Anne Suzanne, Baronne von Daguenfeld, is
decribed at length. The latter lady was buried with official honours
in the tomb of the Elector's predecessors.
* An historical account of the Heroic Life and magnanimous actions of
the Most Illustrious Protestant Prince James, Duke of Monmouth, containing
an account of his birth, education, Places, titles, with great and Martial
achievements, &c., fcfc. 1683. According to Wood's Fasti, vol. iv,
p. 269, the writer of this work and of the novel The Perflex'd Prince
before referred to, were identical.
382
APPENDIX A
or a dozen years of age," when, accepting April 9, 1649,
as the date of his birth, he was rising fourteen. 1 Pepys 2
states he was " a most pretty sparke of about fifteen." Accord-
ing to the Heroic Life the child was born in Rotterdam.
Clarendon says the Hague. If the former place was chosen,
it is easy to explain why it was selected. There had dwelt,
for some generations, a very large colony 50,000 by some
reports of Scotch weavers. Amongst these, perhaps better
than in any other place in Europe, could the birth of the
King's child be concealed. And if it took place there, it was so
effectually concealed, that the town does not possess the
slightest record of this interesting evenff
The improbable suggestion has been advanced that Mon-
mouth was the man in the Iron Mask, and in 1862 a contributor
to a Dutch periodical who had in contemplation a memoir
of the various claimants, was anxious to obtain some corrobora-
tion of the statement made in the Heroic Life that the Duke
was born in Rotterdam. 3 He was entirely unsuccessful, as
were his friends. The Scotch registers are still preserved
and we have had them specially searched but without
result. 4
By Saturday, April 14, the King was back at the Hague
to receive the Scottish Commissioners. As nothing came
of the negotiations, Lucy and Charles proceeded to Paris
where they arrived on July 29, and under the date of August 18
the famous and hackneyed passage in Evelyn's diary occurs :
" I went to St. Jermyn's to kiss her Majestie's hand ; in the
coach which was my Lord Wilmot's went Mrs. Barlow the
King's mistress and mother to the Duke of Monmouth, a brown,
beautiful, bold but insipid creature." The mention of the
Duke of Monmouth proves that Evelyn must have exercised
his wit in this oft-quoted alliterative phrase some fifteen years
after the occasion, if not at a much later date when inflamed
with party rancour. Perhaps he may have referred back and
amended his recollections on the fatal fifteenth of July 1685,
1 Clarendon, Life, vol. ii, 252.
2 September 10, 1662.
3 Unfortunately we have mislaid the reference.
* It is peculiar that none of the children of Charles I. were registered
with the exception of his successor. Fuller's Worthies, vol. iv.
p. 108.
383
APPENDIX A
when he wrote other comments on Lucy, stating that " she
was the daughter of some very mean creatures," and " died
miserably without anything to bury her," neither statement
being true. Evelyn's chronology is also at fault according
to Miss Strickland. She says that Queen Henrietta returned
to Paris in the summer " and was actually there August 18,
1649, when Anne of Austria and her young son Louis XIV.
made their grand (state) entry into the metropolis. After
giving an audience of forgiveness to the Frondeurs they paid
a state visit of condolence to Queen Henrietta. . . . The
young King of England, observes Madame de Motteville,
was there in his deep*mourning for his father : it was his first
formal state recognition at the Court of France." 1 Evelyn no
doubt paid his visit to the Queen Mother about this time, but
his record is from memory only.
We next find the King in Jersey early in September, and
the following spring in the Netherlands again. The date of his
departure for Scotland is variously given. According to old
documents and the contemporary newspapers of the period
it took place about the middle of June. His adventures are
foreign to this work. His brother-in-law, William II. of
Orange, died intestate of small pox in December 1650. Eight
days afterwards was born his only child, Monmouth's successful
rival, William III., King-Stadtholder.
During the King's absence Lucy presumably passed her time
in Paris. From the pitiable distress she exhibited at a later
date when bereft of her son, it is obvious that she was not
separated from him at this period, and " upon his Majesty's
going for Scotland in 1650 he was committed by his Majesty
to the care of his Illustrious Grandmother who lived then at
the Par-le-roy in Paris and was by her committed to the care
of one Goff belonging to her Majesty charging him to provide
a good careful nurse for him which he did accordingly, commend-
ing to her Majesty one Mrs. Miles a gentlewoman that belonged
likewise to her Majesty. 2
" The Beauty and Make of his Person and the dignity of his
Strickland's Queens, vol. v, 397.
The King equally left his brother James in the Queen's tutelage,
but he defied her, insisting on visiting the Duke of Lorraine at a very
short interval from his Majesty's departure. Clarendon 455, Nicholas
Papers, II, p. HI.
384
APPENDIX A
bearing and carriage even whilst an infant plainly discover'd
the greatness of his Birth and the largeness of his soul." *
The next thing of interest is the escape of the King. It
is significant how anxious he was to cross into South Wales.
Those must have been anxious days indeed for Lucy and the
Queen Mother. It is improbable that either heard of the
little fugitive party hunted hither and thither or gave a thought,
if they did so, to the personality of the mysterious Mr. Barlow,
who was one of its members. The King landed eventually
at Rouen, where he was succoured by a Mr. Samborne (or
Sandborn), a merchant. It is suggested, with every proba-
bility, by Mr. Allan Fea that he was a relative by marriage of
Mrs. Gosffritt, who, according to Disney, was put into prison
about Lucy's voyage abroad, for Samborne was the name of
her first husband. 2
The date of the birth of the child Mary, afterwards repudiated
by Charles, 3 is not known. The Dictionary of National
Biography states uncompromisingly, that it was May 5, 1651,
and this is given further publicity in King Monmouth. Having
consulted all the authorities quoted by the Dictionary of
NationaRBiography, without obtaining verification, we applied to
Mr. Thomas Seccombe, the author of the article, and have at
length been favoured with the following from that gentleman :
"It is so long ago since I wrote the article that I really
cannot verify the evidence at all without going to the Museum
and devoting some time to the matter, and circumstances quite
prevent my doing this. I suppose you have seen the references
(etc.) . . . the whole thing seems infinitely remote. If I
can follow it up a little later I will do so but at the moment
I am so pressed for time that I cannot go into it."
This is all very well. Mr. Seccombe has done his work, it
1 Heroic Life, quoted in The Protestant Martyrs or the Bloody Assizes
. . . containing . . . The Life and Death of James, Duke of Monmouth.
London. Printed at the Bible in Fetter Lane, 1688.
2 There was evidently a previous acquaintance. "Mr. Sandborn
a merchant for whom I sent came and answered for us." His Majesty's
Account of his preservation. And we know that this Sandborn, who was
in correspondence with the Court (at Bruges) as late as July 1657, ^ a d a
younger brother. Flanders Papers R.O.
8 Wood's Fasti, vol. iv, p. 269.
23 385
APPENDIX A
was accepted, and he may claim legitimately the transaction is
closed ; but how disgraceful that the editors should have
passed a definite statement of such importance for a woman's
reputation to a certain degree stands or falls by it unsupported
by a jot or tittle of proof. The Dictionary of National
Biography is accepted by many people as a reliable authority,
its assertions are received, even so painstaking a writer as
Mr. Fea bows to its dicta, and, as we have shown, gives them
currency, so its unsubstantiated allegations are fostered until they
become at length incorporated in the history of our country.
Although the King afterwards repudiated the girl he pro-
vided for her liberally. The fact that she was brought up
as a Roman Catholic and that she was christened Mary, 1 the
name by which Henrietta Maria was universally known,
points to her being born during the time her brother was
under the Queen's guardianship, and her mother under her
Majesty's influence.
According to Macpherson her birth did not take place until
after the return of the King. He also directly contradicts
Clarendon, who states that Lucy after her son was born
" lived for some years in France in the King's sight 2 and at
last lost his favour." 3
" She lived so loosely when he was in Scotland that when
after Worcester fight he came to France and she came thither
he would have no further commerce with her. She used in
vain all her little arts. She tried to persuade Doctor Cozens
that she was a convert and would quit her scandalous way of
life and had at the same time a child by the Earl of Carlington,
who grew up to be a woman, and was owned by the mother to
be hers, as like the Earl as possible." 4
There was no such title in existence as Earl of Carlington.
The name is generally read as Arlington. Mr. Fea conjectures
that Lord Carlingford (Viscount Taaffe) is intended. But
he did not arrive upon the Continent from Ireland till
1 The name of the boy, James, is also capable of explanation. England
had come with a James. The exiled King could have seen but little
happy omen in his own ill-fated name.
2 Mr. H. B. Wh^atley in his edition of Pepys, vol. ii, p. 376 note,
informs us that " Charles II. terminated his connection with her
(Lucy) on Oct. 3oth 1651." It is so interesting to know the exact
date. 3 Clarendon, vol. ii, 252. 4 Macpherson.
386
APPENDIX A
July 26, 1 65 1 . l It is just possible that Mary was born somewhat
over the nine months after the King left. Her mother had
no more children, and the fact that the child's date was open
to question maybe provided Charles, who had either tired of
her or, as is more probable, was coerced by his impatient
expatriated followers, with an excuse to repudiate her mother.
That the repudiation of Lucy upon this count did violence
to his own convictions is made sufficiently clear by the fact
that for years after the child was born he continued to throw
her mother as much as possible with the Princess Royal.
After Worcester Charles passed nearly three years in Paris.
His poverty was terrible. He wore patched shirts and mended
shoes. He was dependent on casual charity for the very bread
he ate. York could serve in the wars, Gloucester was still a
child, only the King must sit idle and face despair and humilia-
tion with no distraction.
We learn from the Clarendon State Papers * that though no
one is yet dead of starvation the Chancellor would not be
surprised to any day hear of such a calamity. In the summer of
1654 the King met his sister Mary at Spa. The States-General
about this time patched up a peace with the rebel government
in England and one item in the agreement was that the King
of England was forbidden the territory of the former. From
Spa the brother and sister proceeded to Cologne. All this time
there is no mention of Lucy's name. The Cromwellian spies
who faithfully reported to their employers in England the
comings and goings of their expatriated King and all the
tittle-tattle they could collect, make not the smallest reference
to her. Everything to her discredit is given on the authority
of the King's relations and friends. It is only to be expected
that they should have laboured strenuously to dissolve such a
connection by fair means or foul. An influential marriage
seemed at the time the King's only hope for obtaining the means
to subdue his rebellious subjects, yet he made no effort on his
own part to conclude one and for years no other woman save
Lucy figured in his life. 3
1 Carte's Life of Ormonde, vol. ii, p. 146. * Vol. iii, p. 179.
3 After the Restoration he recognised as his a daughter born abouti652.
But the mother a married woman was never openly associated with
him, and nobody knew anything about the matter at the time. The
lady continued her duties in the household of the Queen, the child being
accepted without question as the issue of the husband.
387
i
IE policy of temporarily separating Charles and
Lucy with the end of bringing about their
permanent estrangement was, from every worldly
view, admirable, and the King's friends, one and
all, combined toward that end. Yet had Clarendon
been gifted with imagination he might well have paused.
Despite the manifold afflictions he had suffered, despite
the loss of father, home, status, and prosperity ; the society
of the woman he loved had kept the King's life wholesome,
and his nature sweet, and now by the machinations of those
who loved him completely, the last tie was to be broken. Human
nature requires a gravity for everything, even for ideals. Flowers
cut from their roots die. The King's love for Lucy and ambi-
tion for their son were his last ideals, his last incentives
to virtue, and with them went all. For Lucy had been the
love of his youth, the companion of his darkest affliction, his
one solace when shuddering under the dire misfortune of his
father's loss. In after years Clarendon assigned his own
downfall to the marriage of his daughter with York ; he would
have been nearer the mark had he traced it to the repudiation
of Lucy. Fate had in store for him a very cruel retaliation.
Lucy's dismissal most certainly paved the way for the reign of
la Castlemaine !
To the Princess Royal, the King's sister, was assigned
initiatory action, and although she was a woman of breeding
and refinement, and must have writhed at this uncongenial
task, her love for her brother and an anxiety for his material
welfare, overcame every other consideration. So Mary set
about poisoning her brother's mind against Lucy. Only the
merest echoes of the part she played have come down to us
but, judging from subsequent troubles of Anne Hyde, it is
not difficult to reconstruct the drama. It is after Mary went
back to the Hague that allusions appear in her Letters to the
388
APPENDIX A
King concerning the inconstancy of his wife, and it is evident
that Lucy returned with her. There was a double reason
for the arrangement, the most urgent being that to succour
Lucy and her children was one of the few ways open to the
Princess to relieve the strained resources of the King, while
his not being able to advertise Lucy's true status, made it
natural that her presence should prove hurtful to the
Cause. That this was recognised to be the case, is a striking
comment on the young man's reputation for virtue.
Several years later a Cavalier wrote " the King by driving
out of Cologne a person who gave his enemies a subject for
discourse acquired without Grace from Heaven, and an advan-
tageous esteem among men." Mr. Kingstown, the writer of
these lines, either ignores, or was not aware of the fact that
the " person " found an asylum with the King's own sister.
Agnes Strickland, in her Lives of the Last Four Princesses of
the House of Stuart, is righteously indignant with Mrs. Everett
Green for having "started " the idea in her Lives of the Princesses,
vol. v, p. 229, that the lady referred to in Mary's letters was
Lucy Waters (sic). The culprit was really Dr. Stannier
Clarke in 1814. Modern writers, unable to reconcile Mary's
pride with the accounts of Lucy, as given in Macpherson,
have sought to substitute another name, suggesting for want
of a better Jane Lane ! l Not only is there not the tiniest
record of a flirtation between Charles and Jane but the
" Mothere " remains unaccounted for. Even Henrietta Maria
would not have been so criminally short-sighted as to coun-
tenance or instigate a sentimental association between his
Majesty and the gentlewoman to whom he was so romantically
indebted. 2 Miss Strickland suggests that the wife was " one
of the Princesses of the house of Orange to whom Charles
was long engaged and only prevented marrying by the worldly
policy of the Princess Dowager."
We have failed to find the record of such an engagement.
In March 1649 the Princess Dowager, Amelia of Solms, offered
the bereaved young King a loan of money to go to Ireland on
1 Mr. A. M. Broadley informs us that Jane Lane was about fifteen
years older than the King.
2 There exists direct evidence to the contrary. Cf. a letter from
Jane to the King. Lambeth MSS., 645-6. Printed verbatim in " The
Royal Miracle," 1912. $
389
APPENDIX A
the condition of his espousing her daughter l Albertine Agnes,
a girl of fifteen, subsequently the wife of her illegitimate
cousin the Duke of Nassau. But tempting as the offer was
for had he considered himself free to accept it, he would have
been able to avoid taking the loathed covenant the boy
who had sent the carte blanche was true to his secret wife.
Charles refused. 2
Between the years 1649 and 1658 Charles only made a few
fleeting and secret visits to his sister's country houses, Honsdrel-
dyke and Teyling, and on these occasions the fact of his presence
was jealously guarded from all the Dutch. After Lucy's death
the King in turn approached the Princess Dowager asking if
she was open to receive a proposal for one of her daughters,
" and if so which one," 3 a sentence from which it is indeed a
task to extract romance ! In reply the Princess invited the
exiled monarch to visit her on neutral ground at Tourhoot,
the private demesne of the Orange Family. Whether as has
been alleged on account of the remote chance of Charles
being restored, though his prospects had not been so bright
for years, Cromwell having died the previous September, or
whether investigation of the Lucy story showed the latter's
son as a standing menace to the child of any acknowledged
1 Somers' Tracts, vol. i, p. 75.
2 There is in the Bodleian a contemporary print of Ireland kneeling
entreatingly before the young sovereign while Scotland holds a pistol to his
head. We fear that the King's connection with Lucy must, to a certain
extent, be held responsible for his taking the covenant. Marriage would
undoubtedly have saved him from this course which he so hated.
Henrietta Maria did her utmost to force him into applying for the hand
of her niece, Mile, de Montpensier. In 1649, shortly after his accession
and the birth of Monmouth, the Queen Mother committed the unheard
of breach of propriety in the conduct of Royal persons of leaving her son
the King and her niece the Princess alone together for a quarter of an
hour. We have it on the authority of the latter that her laggard lover
did not open his mouth. Montpensier Memoires.
3 " Je vous prie s'il vous plaist de me faire scavoir si vous estes en-estat
de recevoir un proposition de ma part touchant vostre fille et qui,"
to quote his somewhat peculiar French. Carte's Life of Ormonde,
vol. ii, 154-7. Carte appends the following, which is his idea of a
translation. " I beseech you to let me know if the Princess Harriette (!)
be so far engaged that you cannot receive a proposition from me
concerning her."
39
APPENDIX A
queen of Charles succeeding his father we do not know, but the
marriage scheme fell through.
During the summer of 1655 Mary wrote thus to the
King :
" Your wife is resolving whether she will write or no : there-
fore I am to say nothing to you from her ; but will keep open
my letter as long as the post will permit, to expect what
good nature will work, which I find now does not at all ; for
it is now eleven of the clock and no letter comes."
This is dated from the Hague May 2. The Princess pro-
ceeded to her country house at Honsdreldyke, or as she spells it,
Hounslerdike, preparatory to paying another visit to her brother.
Lucy was with her, for under the date of June 21 Mary writes
as follows :
" I do now absolutely believe that Cromwell will have peace
with France and fall out with Spain which will be better
than nothing for some friends are better than none. The
States are sending our troops against the King of Sweden
before they know he is their enemy. I am more sorry for their
neighbourhood because it will be in my way to Cologne ;
but that cannot hinder me, for sure I shall not be denied a
convoy. I am not able to tell you positively the day I go from
hence, but next week I shall ; for there is nothing I am so
impatient for as the happiness of seeing you.
" Your wife desires me to present her humble duty to you
which is all she can say. I tell her it is because she thinks of
another husband and does not follow your example of being as
faithful a wife as you are a husband."
These letters are either an intolerable impertinence or a
jest of questionable taste, but for a man of tow like Charles
they were dangerous as a torch. It will be seen that Charles
had already thoughts of obtaining the countenance of the
King of Spain, his uncle by marriage, and therefore any
break in the relations between Spain and the Powers at home
was to be welcomed. Mary's aloofness from the action of
the adopted country is characteristic. As a clever observer
has stated, her situation and attitude during the last ten years
of her life resembled rather " an exiled Stuart Princess than
391
APPENDIX A
that of a Princess of Orange, mother to the heir of that splendid
house." i
The Earl of Lytton's collection at Knebworth and the
Mauritzhaus, a public picture gallery at the Hague, contain
silent testimony to the intimacy that at one time existed
between the Princess Royal and Lucy Walter. Lord Lytton
possesses what Mr. Fea describes as the most pleasing portrait
of her he has seen ; she wears a fanciful riding costume trimmed
with ermine and her hat is adorned with red and white feathers,
she holds a whip in her right hand. Her horse is in the back-
ground held by a black boy. Long brown hair falls over her
shoulders cavalier fashion and her large expressive eyes are
remarkably lifelike." 2 Lucy is not a girl here ; she is about
twenty-four.
In the Mauritzhaus is a replica of this picture, the horse,
the black boy, the costume, all are there, but the features
are those of the Princess Mary. 3 As we know by referring
to p. 316 of the present work, it was a common custom
for people to lend their friends and relations a successful
picture that the " drapery and pose " might be copied for
their own portrait.
The Princess arrived at Cologne at the end of July and stayed
with the King until the middle of November. As to Lucy's
movements, history is silent. As will be shown some arrange-
ment was arrived at between the brother and sister as to her
ultimate fate, during the time they were together. The
importance of this obscure matter must have secretly exceeded
all other issues and most cleverly was the matter hushed up.
Probably the Princess was glad to avoid taking part in the
ultimate engagement. Although but one reference appears in
her letters, her anxiety to escape to France in midwinter is
certainly remarkable. Her ostensible excuse was that she might
prevent an alliance between France and England by her personal
presence in Paris. She went much against the King's wish,
1 Court Life in the Dutch Republic, by the Baroness Susette Van
Zuyden Van Myvelt. 1906. P. 173.
2 King Monmoutb, p. 24, facing p. 10 of that work is a Kitcat detai 1
of the painting.
8 429(133), Portrait of Mary, Princess of England, wife of Prince
William II. of Orange (1631-1660) by J. Mytens. A nephew of Van
Dycke's predecessor as painter to the court of England.
39 2
APPENDIX A
for he feared that her visit to a Roman Catholic country
would prejudice the Royal Family in the eyes of the more
Puritan English, and, by a seeming overture to a country
hostile to them, annoy the Spaniards who were coquetting
with him, and with whom for the moment lay his brightest
hopes.
Some fiery letters passed between the brother and sister,
but Mary adhered to her determination, and on January 14
set out. When Mary had gone to Holland as a child-bride she
had been accompanied by her governess, Lady Stanhope.
This lady had several young daughters, who, time passing on,
found place among the Princess's entourage. Lady Stanhope
had married a Dutchman, John Poliander Van Kirchhoven,
Lord of Heenvleet, a descendant of the famous preacher.
M. Heenvleet, as he is usually called, was also in the Princess's
establishment, and a daughter, Walbrook, variously given as
his illegitimate daughter and his daughter by Lady Stanhope,
was the governess of the little Prince William. Despite
this and that she had recently married the Honourable
Thomas Howard, a brother of the Earl of Suffolk and Master
of the Horse to the Princess, Walbrook was chosen to
attend their mistress in place of her mother, who for
reasons that have nothing to do with Lucy, was anxious not to
visit Paris. Thomas Howard was also left behind. In a letter
from the Princess to the King dated January 3, is the following
passage :
" Tom Howard desires me to tell you that from hence he is
not able to do that he spoke to you of at Cologne ; but when
I am in France, he will have much better conveniency without
suspicion." 1
Tom Howard was to be one of the chief instruments in
effecting the break between Lucy and Charles. He appears
to have been the Princess's accredited agent. What makes the
matter more involved is that modern research has proved that
he was secretly in the pay of Cromwell, a fact of course utterly
unsuspected by either Mary or Charles.
Mary gone, his Majesty's advisers lost no time in, as it were,
fixing Lucy's place as a mere pensioner on the Bang's bounty,
by granting her in his name an annuity of five thousand livres.
1 Lambeth MSS. 9 646, Art. 33.
393
APPENDIX A
This is dated January 21, 1655 (the legal year at that time
commenced March i). Their next steps were systematically
to blacken her reputation.
Contrary to what is usually the case, valuable contemporary
evidence of this actually exists, in the writing of Daniel O'Neile,
the very last person in the world, we may remark in passing, to
whom the King would have entrusted the conduct of his
confidential affairs.
Daniel O'Neile, born 1612, was the nephew of Owen Roe
O'Neile, and the first Irishman to occupy any post of importance
about the English Court. He was the go-between in the
negotiations of his uncle and Ormonde and, throughout his
life, the jackal of Ormonde. Lady Stanhope took him for a
third husband. He was nicknamed Infallible Subtle.
As we shall have occasion to refer to these letters, and as
they form the stock pendant to Evelyn, Macpherson, and
Clarendon, we give them in extenso that they may be judged
beside our arguments. The originals, together with the
communications of the Princess already quoted, are preserved
at Lambeth, and were printed in the Thurloe State Papers.
Mr. Jenkins, the Librarian at Lambeth, informs us they were
given with many other documents, by Queen Mary to Arch-
bishop Tenison, and have been in the Lambeth Collection ever
since. They with the Jane Lane letter referred to, and
others from Henrietta Maria, &c., probably formed a package
that Queen Mary found among her uncle's effects. The
preservation of the O'Neile letters was probably an oversight.
Had the King desired to preserve gossip to Lucy's detriment
on the part of his servants, he would surely have selected
something more conclusive.
Archbishop Tenison attended Monmouth on the scaffold,
being amongst the pious brethren who, as one of our own
reviewers so tersely phrases it, " assembled there to harry his
soul into the next world," and the passages referring to Lucy in
the Princess's letters are underlined, in a different but not
modern ink. Probably Tenison, as others since him, have found
difficulty in reconciling the friendship of the Princess and the
allegations of O'Neile.
The O'Neile letters, in excellent preservation, are endorsed
in an unshaken hand, by Charles himself. They had no
influence, as will be shown, on his relations with Lucy.
m
APPENDIX A
" Mr. Daniel O'Neile to King Charles II.
" Hage, 8 Febr. 1656.
(Par. 2.)
" I have hetherto forborne giving your majestic any account
of your commands concerning Mrs. Barloe, because those,
that I imployed to hir, brought mee assurances from hir,
she would obey your majestie's commands. Of late I am tould
shee intends nothing less, and that shee is assured from Collen
your majestic would not have hir son from hir. I am much
troubled to see the prejudice hir being here does your majestic ;
for every idle actione of hers brings your majestic uppon
the stage ; and I am noe less ashamed to have soe much
importuned your majestic to have beeleved hir worthy of your
care. When I have the honour to wayt uppon your majestic,
I shall tell you what I have from a midwyf of this toune, and
one of hir mayds, which shee had not the discretions to use well
after knoweing so much of hir secrets." l
" Mr. Daniel O'Neile to king Charles II.
" Hage, I4th Feb. 1656.
" Before I took the liberty to writ any thing to your majestic
of Mrs. Barloe, I did sufficiently informe myself of the truth
of what I writ, since I had the opportunity to save her from
publick scandall att least. Hir mayd, whom she would have
killed by thrusting a bodkin into hir care ass shee was asleep,
would have accused hir of that, of miscarrying of two children
by phissick, and of the infamous manner of hir living with
Mr. Howard ; but I have prevented the mischief, partly
with threats, butt more with a 100 gilders I am to give hir
mayd. Hir last miscarriage was since Mrs. Howard went,
ass the midwyf says to one, that I imploy to hir. Doctor
Rufus has given hir phissick, but it was allwayes after hir
miscarrying ; and though hee knew any thing, it would bee
indiscreet to tell it. Therefore I would not attempt him,
and the rather, that I was sufficiently assured by those, that
were neerer. Though I have saved hir for this tyme, it's not
lykly shee'le escap when I am gon ; for onely the considera-
tione of your majestic has held Monsieur Heenuleit and
Monsieur Nertwicke, not to have hir banished this toune
and country for an infamous person, and by sound of drum.
1 lambeth MSS., 675-^6.
395
APPENDIX A
Therefore it were well, if your majestic will owen that chyld, to
send hir your positive command to deliver him unto whom your
majestic will appoint. I know it from one, whoe has read my
lord Taaf's letter to hir of the nth by this last post, that
hee tells hir, your majestic has noething more in consideratione
then hir sufferings ; and that the next monny you can gett or
borrow, shall be sent to suply hir. Whyle your majestic
incourages any to speake this language, shee'le never obey
what you will have. The onely way is to necessitat hir, if
your majestic can think hir worth your care. . . ." l
We are told by a descendant of Lucy's that these letters
put her out of court for ever and that, despite the King's
continued countenance. But surely they are but represen-
tative specimens of an age that spared not blood, or rank, or
affection, that ever imputed unspeakable motives, and brought
the vilest charges with a venom the lowest dregs of present day
society would hesitate to display. An era that would believe
in the preposterous warming-pan myth, and the thousand
monstrous and ridiculous charges that were brought against
the virtuous Mary of Modena, a crowned Queen of England, 2
would believe anything.
We will digress a little and show how a contemporary of
Lucy's fared.
When we reflect on the romance of Anne Hyde it is easy to
realise Lucy could not expect much mercy from the King's
advisers. Their cases present more than one parallel. Both,
as wife for a prince, were politically and socially " impossible."
Both discredited through the instrumentality of Mary, Anne
Hyde's name was associated at a later date with Henry Sidney,
the younger brother of Robert. And if Sir Charles Berkeley
could, cherishing a passion for Anne, bear false witness against
her, with the double view of pleasing the princess and obtaining
the reversion of the lady, may not Robert Sidney have done the
same thing ?
The Duke of York, who had already an illegitimate daughter
by a Dutch woman, named Marie van der Steen, was " con-
tracted " to Anne Hyde at her father's house at Breda,
1 Lambeth MSS., 675-6.
2 Amongst other things that she was the Pope's eldest daughter !
Sir F. Williamson's Correspondence, vol. ii, p. 63. Camd. Soc.
396
APPENDIX A
November 24, 1659. As in the King's case, this was not a
light fancy, for by his own or Macpherson's (?) showing, he
had been in love with her for three years. Anne was his
sister's maid of honour. Three months afterwards Mary,
discovering there was some amour or intrigue, promptly
dismissed the girl from her service. Such was the propriety
and reticence of the woman who received Lucy en belle sceur.
Jesse, in his Memoirs of the Court of England under the Stuarts,
observes " the obligation on the part of the Duke, had he
afterwards chosen to swerve from his promises, or had the King
refused his consent, would rather have been considered
binding in a tribunal of honour, than a court of law."
These remarks might apply equally to the King, assuming
he first knew Lucy in England, during his minority. Jesse
continues :
" Shortly after the Restoration, Miss Hyde proved to be
with child. It was naturally a crisis of great importance
both to herself and her family ; and indeed the probability
of her ever becoming Duchess of York appears at one time to
have been extremely remote. James had begun to weary of
her charms ; the match was not only unsuitable and incon-
gruous, but was likely to encounter the strongest opposition
in his family ; moreover his friends, among whom was Sir
Charles Berkeley, who possessed the most unbounded influence
over him, endeavoured by every argument and exertion, to
induce him to retreat from his engagement. Berkeley, whose
motives may possibly have been well intentioned, even went
so far as to persuade Lords Arran, Jermyn, and Talbot, three
other friends of the Duke, to affirm that Miss Hyde had en-
couraged them in their advances and that they had repeatedly
shared her favours." 1
Mary arrived in England in September and it was she who
instigated all this. She determined to save James as she had
saved Charles, from a permanent result of the imprudence of
his affections. Ferguson 2 tells us that Lucy "when in
travail with the said Duke (Monmouth) most positively
affirmed her marriage to the King." 3 It is to be hoped his
1 All " Men of honour," as M. de Grammont quaintly describes them.
2 Lambeth MSS., 675-6.
3 A letter to a person of hottour concerning the King disavowing
item 5.
397
A|PP|EiNjDIX A
Majesty saved her from the brutality Hyde did not hesitate
to mete out to his own daughter, if we may believe his account
of what took place when he was first made aware of Anne's
condition. He said, " with all imaginable earnestness ' That
as soon as he came home he would turn her out of the house as
a strumpet to shift for herself, and would never see her again,' '
and further " if it were true (that there was a marriage), he
was well prepared to advise what was to be done : that he had
much rather that his daughter should be the Duke's whore
than his wife : in the former case no one could blame him
from the resolution he had taken, for he was not obliged to
keep a whore for the greatest prince alive ; and the indignity
to himself he would submit to the good pleasure of God.
But if there were any reason to suspect the other, he was ready
to give a positive judgment in which he hoped their lordships
(the gentlemen who had " broken " the news) would concur
with him ; that the King should immediately cause the woman,
to be sent to the Tower, and cast into a dungeon, under so
strict a guard, that no person living should be admitted to come
to her ; and then that an act of Parliament should be imme-
diately passed for the cutting off of her head, to which he would
not only give his consent, but would very willingly be the first
man that should propose it." 1 He goes on to tell us that
it was the King's chance to be at his (Hyde's) house with the
committee of council, when she (Anne) fell in labour : of which
being advertised by her father the King directed him " to send
for the lady marchioness of Ormonde, the countess of Sunder-
land, and other ladies of known honour and fidelity to the
Crown, to be present with her," who all came and were present
with her until she was delivered of a son. The Bishop of
Winchester in the intervals of her greatest pangs, and sometimes
when they were upon her, was present, and asked her such
questions as were thought fit for the occasion ; ' Whose the child
was of which she was in labour,' whom she averred, with all
protestation to be the duke's ; * Whether she had ever known
any other man ; ' which she renounced with all vehemence,
saying that she was confident that the duke did not think she
had ; and being asked whether she was married to the duke
she answered she was and there were witnesses enough. . . ."
In a word, her behaviour was such as abundantly satisfied
398
Continuation of Lift, p. 324.
APPENDIX A
the ladies who were present of her innocence from the reproach ;
and they were not reserved in the declaration of it." * We
trust they were equally candid as to their opinion of Hyde !
These ladies would not have been present at all but for the
intervention of the King, it being evidently the Chancellor's
intention to confide his daughter entirely to the mercy of the
Bishop of Winchester. A man who could engineer such callous
brutality towards his own daughter whom a few months before
he had welcomed in England with " great joy having always
had a great affection for her ; and she being his eldest child,
he had more acquaintance with her than with any of his
children," 2 was not the man to let Lucy Walter stand in the
way of his master's Restoration. Even if we do not take
these coarse protestations of his at the value he would have us
s-et upon them, there remain his actions, and the words them-
selves must have had some appearance of probability for the
benefit of his contemporaries.
But whatever his feelings at the moment may have been,
his wrath swiftly gave place to ambition, and he threw himself
with great energy into the negotiations for the Portuguese
marriage.
1 Continuation of Life, p. 324. * Ibid.
399
VI
SEPARATED by necessity from the King, menaced by
his councillors, and deserted by Mary, Lucy's habitual
dignity does not appear to have deserted her. Her
action is that of innocence ; she immediately com-
municated with her nearest relative. This was her
brother Justus, for as the elder brother Richard was a Round-
head (he had just concluded his year of office as high sheriff of
Pembrokeshire) it is unlikely that she was on good terms with
him. Her father had died in 1650, her mother in August 1655.
As in 1648, Lucy was supported unhesitatingly by her kin.
Justus hastened to her sister's aid. We print for the first time
his " pass."
Justus Walter These are to will and require you to permit and
suffer Mr. Justus Walter and his serv fc to
transport themselves to Holland wh out let,
hindrance or molestation; they carrying nothing
with them prejudicial.
Given on the 27th of March 1656.
Laurence. President
To the Court of the Customs etc. 1
Shortly after Justus arrived Lucy made preparations to set
out for England. The visit is of great interest and the reason
has yet to be fathomed. It has been suggested by the ubiquitous
Roberts that she was returning to Pembrokeshire, and, Lingard
states definitely " she had promised to repair with her child to
her native country." 2 Beside the fact that the King would
1 Warrants of the Protector and Council Col. Dom. S.P. y vol. i, 73,
p. 580 (R.O.).
3 Lingard viii, f. 479. The assertion evidently evolved from his
" inner consciousness." As a pendant to this, Miss Scott, in Tke Travels
of the King, p. 341, states that Lucy " was taken to the Tower as a person
of ill-fame."
400
APPENDIX A
never have parted permanently with his idolised son, Lucy's
conduct in London, the secrecy of her movements, the fact
that she was in touch with the Cavaliers alike point to the fact
of the expedition having a political motive.
For nearly a year the Spaniards had been coquetting with
the exiled King. Extremes meet, and if the Republicans in
England, who approximated, in a way, to the modern socialist,
disliked a king, they detested a self -elevated dictator, under whose
usurpation they suffered all the disadvantages they saw in regal
sway without enjoying any of its ameliorations. So lively was
their discontent that in the spring of 1655 they threw in their
lot with the Royalists, a joint rising being premeditated. It
failed to mature and the conspirators fled with their lives.
Amongst their number was one Edward Sexby, a violent
republican, afterwards the author of the famous Killing, No
Murder, with its witty, ironic dedication to " his Highness the
Lord Protector " ; the pamphlet that cowed Cromwell to
the depth of his guilty soul. Sexby went to Brussels and was
the first to arouse the Spanish in the King's interest, but the
Viceroy would take no active steps while Cromwell lived.
Thereupon Sexby proceeded to Spain, returning at the
end of the year, by which time, owing to the projected
peace between France, with whom the Spanish were on
bad terms, and the rebel government in England, the
situation was more favourable and continued to improve.
Don Alonso de Cardenas, the Spanish ambassador, was
recalled from London in the autumn of 1655. He went to
Brussels.
In the spring of 1656 the Spanish offered the King of
England an asylum on their territory on condition of his
preserving an incognito, which he accepted, and, by a treaty
ratified the following June, everything was put in train for a
rising in England the ensuing winter. In May a new governor
of the Low Countries arrived, in the person of Don John of
Austria, son of Philip IV. by Maria Calderona, an actress.
Charles II., in his extremity, was compelled to treat this man
as an equal. Don John immediately appointed Don Alonso
de Cardenas Intendant of Affairs, though he continued to be
known as My Lord Ambassador. Thenceforward Charles was
busily enrolling his army.
Lucy and Charles were reunited in Antwerp. Thither she
2C 4OI
APPENDIX A
came from the Hague, where she had continued during the
spring and where no doubt, in the absence of Mary, she had
acted as Royalist agent, about five weeks after his Majesty had
arrived in Bruges from Cologne. Justus Walter escorted his
sister, who was attended by Thomas Howard. Evidence
of some carefully laid plan, at which we can only surmise, is
afforded by her having three weeks earlier sent one of her
ervants ahead to London with instructions to meet her
there.
Charles, who believed his movements secret, was, as usual,
tracked by the rebel spies.
" The 22nd of May Charles Stuart came to Antwerp ; he
lay at one Harvie's house. There met him Ormonde and
Hyde. He is now gone to a house he hath taken two leagues
off that town to be the more private." l
This Harvey was, and continued to be, an intimate
friend of Lucy. In addition to above, Thurloe also
received the following letter of advice from another of his
creatures.
" The twentieth day of this month I arrived at Antwar
where I mette with sume of my friends who advised me to
stay ther ; as giving me (to understand) that the rest of my
friends woulde be ther in a day or two ; upon the two and
twentyeth Day being Friday, C.S. with my lord of Rotchester
came hether ( : ) this morning I Vissetted them all when I
received very much kindnesse from them and delivered my
letters to my lord of Ormond ; I know all what was in them,
what was anything of bisinesse ; I shall give you an account
of them in time anough." [For what ? Presumably to cir-
cumvent some imminent negotiation. The degraded writer
continues :] " I believe ther is other bisinesse on hand now
then sekeing of money ; they are all here My ty ly (myste-
riously ?) on horses ; and have still designes to make friends
in England. 2 ... I believe I shall be employed in sume of
their businesses very shortly I know not now how you can write
1 Tburloe S.P. i, 728. The reason for taking the house was his meeting
with Don John. There were many difficulties before this interview
(which took place ultimately in Brussels) could be arranged.
2 In contradiction of the armed descent which was universally
looked for.
402
APPENDIX A
to me with safety, etc. etc. Jo : Halle. Saterday May 23rd
1656.
For the Right Hone Mr. Secretory Thirlo. Superscribed.
John Walls." *
Alas ! the supplementary communication of Mr. Walls is lost
to history.
Whatever the other " bisinesse " may have been we know it
was urgent, and that no time was to be lost, for the very next
day Lucy, having no doubt received her final instructions,
with her brother and Howard parted from the King and sailed
for England. 2
In London though by servants' evidence Lucy elected
to live in extraordinary secrecy, those of the King's friends
with whom she came in touch obviously regarded her as his
Majesty's wife, or, more properly, their Queen.
" During her abode about London, the cavalears, as the
loyalests were then called, carried themselves towards her with
a profound reverence and awful respect, treating her as a sacred
person and serving her on the knee." 3
The question is forced on us why the King's discarded
mistress, as historians would have us believe Lucy to be, should
have got in touch with the King's friends at all. And if she had
done so, would they not have received warning against her ?
Another person whose presence in London at this conjunc-
tion is not without interest is Robert Sidney. If his sojourn
there is more than a coincidence ; if he aided Lucy's journey,
as we submit he did in 1648, he had not time to be deeply
engaged in her present mission, for on June 3 he applied for his
return pass to proceed from Gravesend with his " servants and
nowssaries " to the Low Countries. 4 On account of his
brother Sidney had even greater facilities than Howard for
1 Flanders Papers, 1656, Item 433 (R.O.).
2 We wonder if Howard had yet succeeded in doing " that which
I spoke to you off at Cologne . . . without suspicion." On account of
his being a secret spy this double-dyed traitor was easily able to procure
passes into England.
3 The method of serving Royalty. Charles I. in his last hours was
affronted by this civility being denied him. Until the Restoration it
was the custom to drink the King's health kneeling. See ante, p. 379.
4 Dom S.P., 1655-6, vol. Ixxiii.
43
APPENDIX A
getting in and out of England. He had been over so late as
the previous July. 1 It must be recollected that at the time
England was as difficult of ingress or egress as a fortress.
Despite the care taken, Lucy's presence in London was ere
long discovered. The servant, Anne Hill, was first suspected.
She was arrested and examined June 26. Evidently under the
impression that her mistress had procured her imprisonment,
she retaliated by voicing the scandalous imputation in regard
to the birth of the child the King chose afterwards to repudiate.
In her second statement made a week afterwards it will be
noticed she forgets she has done so and contradicts it. Lucy,
Justus, and Howard were also apprehended.
According to tradition Lucy was incarcerated in the Cold-
harbour and in the Lanthorn Towers. 2 The former has
vanished, the latter burned down and rebuilt. Lucy, the maid,
and Howard, whose venality was probably a matter between
Thurloe and himself, were all examined without much result.
We give the evidence at length. Lucy's prevarication and
efforts to conceal the real state of affairs is rather the conduct of
one whose interests were identical with those of Charles, than
that of a repudiated woman, whose only impulse would be
revenge.
" The information of ANNE HILL, late servant to the
lady LUCY WALTER, 3 otherwise BARLOW, taken
upon oath the 26th day of June, 1656.
" WHO saith, that this informant was servant to the said
lady Walter in Holland about seven months, 4 and about six
1 Don. S.P., 1655-6, vol. Ixxiii.
* I am indebted for this information to the kindness of Mr. Arthur
Poyser, author of an interesting volume 'The Tower of 'London, published
in 1908.
3 These honorary designations were a politeness of the time. See
Flanders Papers, 1658-9, item 121. A letter addressed to : " The Lord
Edward Nicholas."
4 Is Anne Hill the same person whose life was attempted according
to O'Neile the previous February, or her colleague ? It is somewhat
surprising she should continue in such service, and still more, that when
afire with venom, as she obviously was when this statement was taken
down, she made not the slightest reference to the attempted murder of
herself or friend, and repeated none of O'Neile's charges against her
mistress.
404
APPENDIX A
weeks ago she left her said lady and came to England in a
Dutch ship, promising the said lady, when she sent for her,
to repaire to her, which she accordingly did about a week
ago ; and saith, that the said lady came lately out of Flushing,
hireing a boat to bring herself, two children, Mr. Justus
Walter her brother, and Thomas Howard, gentleman of the
horse, to the princess royal at the Hague, and this informant
saith, that she hath often heard, that one of the said children
her said lady had by Charles Stuart, and that the said lady
had no other means to maintain her, but what she hath from
the said Charles Stuart, although she lives in a costly and
high manner ; and saith, that for ought she perceives, the
said lady maintains her brother. And this informant further
saith, that the said lady, and her children, Mr. Walter, and
Mr. Howard, lie at a barber's house over against Somerset
House, but the name of the said barber or his sign this infor-
mant knows not. And this informant further saith, that she
hath several times heard the said lady say, she hoped, that the
said Charles Stuart would quickly have England ; and saith,
she knows no just cause, why the said lady should procure her
imprisonment, but supposes it was, because this informant
would discover the said lady ; and saith that the said lady
told her this informant, she was, a little before her coming
over, with the king, meaning Charles Stuart ; and this infor-
mant having conference with the said lady's brother about it,
he swore the said lady had been lately with the king, meaning
Charles Stuart, a night and a day together.
" The mark of Ann ( ) Hill " *
" Col Barkstead, lieut. of the tower, to secretary
Thurloe.
" YOURS together with his highness's warrants I received.
The lady saith, she had a son by Charles Stuart, which is dead ;
that the twoe children she now hath were by a husband she had
in Holland, whoe is alsoe dead. That she came over only to
looke after 1500 1. left her by her mother. That she came
from Flushing about 3 weeks since. That she hath not scene
C.S. this twoe yeares. That shee mett colonell Howard, as she
tooke shipping at Flushing. That she hath not as yet received
any of her petition. Mr. Justus Walter saith, he went out of
1 Tburloe State Papers, vol. v, pp. 160-1.
405
APPENDIX A
England about twoe months by past, and had a passe from the
councell to travell for Italy ; l but meeting with his sister
comeing over, he came with her : that before he went over,
he belonged to the Temple. All that I can gett from collonell
Howard is enclosed. I am,
" Sir, your affectionate friend and servant,
" Jo. BARKSTEAD.
" Tower Lond. June 28th, 1656." *
11 The examination of Thomas Howard esq., taken the
28th June, 1656.
" SAITH he did see Charles Stuart about a year since at
Cologne, 3 and not since. Saith he hath been 5 or 6 years
out of England. Saith he was ingaged for the late king at
Oxford, and commanded a regiment of horse for the said king,
and after Naseby fight went over into Holland, and there had
a troop of horse given him by the prince of Orange's grand-
father, which he now hath. That he is now and had ever since
the said time been master of the horse to the princess royal.
Saith he took shipping about 3 weeks since at Flushing, and so
came to England. Being asked, how he came into the company
of the lady Lucey Walter, alias Barlow, saith, he met her on
shipboard in the ship, in which he came over into England,
with whom he came over, and took lodgings at the same house
with her. Saith that since he was at Cologne with Charles
Stuart, he hath been in France with the princess royal, 4 on
whom he waited, and from Paris went to Havre de Grace,
intending for England, but by storm was driven to Rotterdam,
and from Flushing, whence he returned as aforesaid. Further
saith not.
" T. HOWARD." 5
The next thing of note is the order for Lucy's release. She
had guarded her secrets well, and probably the authorities
satisfied themselves that the worst service they could do their
King was to send his unacknowledged wife back to him. They
may have contemplated retaining the boy as hostage, for the
first order of her release dated July I, is phrased as follows :
1 His pass was for Holland direct. Why all this prevarication ?
2 Tburloe State Payers, vol. v, pp. 169. * Seven months.
This was a lie. 5 ^hurloe v, 169.
406
APPENDIX A
" Ordered by his Highness the Lord Protector and the
Council that Lucy Barlow now a prisoner in the Tower be
togeother with her child sent to Flandres and y* Sir John
Barkstead the Lie 1 of the Tower take care that same be down
accordingly." *
The following day Anne Hill underwent her second
examination.
" The further information of ANNE HILL, late servant
to the lady LUCY WALTER, otherwise BARLOW,
taken upon oath the 2d day of July, 1656.
" Middlesex.
" WHO saith, that in August last she came first into the
service of the said lady Lucy Walter, and went over with one
of her children into Holland to the Hague, 2 where the lady
then lived ; and saith, that Mr. Thomas Howard, gentleman
of the horse to the princess royal, did much frequent her
company there ; and saith she continued there seven months, 3
and then came over into England. And saith, that this
informant never heard, that the said lady had any husband in
Holland, or any other place, but that those children she had
were begotten by Charles Stewart ; and saith that Justus
Walter, her said lady's brother, told her this informant, that
the said lady, together with the said Thomas Howard, went
from the Hague to Flanders, and then immediately they came
from thence to Flushing, and so for England, as she hath heard
them say. And this informant further saith, that the said
lady told her, this informant, that the very same night, in which
she came to Antwerp or Brussels, Charles Stewart came
thither ; whereupon this informant asked her in these words,
Did your honour see him ? to which she answered, Yes, and he
saw your master too (meaning one of her children, which is
usually called Master). And this informant saith, she knows
not who came with the said lady into England, beside Thomas
Howard and Justus Walter aforesaid, neither anything further
of their actings beyond seas ; and saith, she heard the said
1 Dom S.P. Interregnum, 177, 213-19.
2 It is possible she went from Paris where the younger child Mary
may have been out to nurse the first years of her life according to custom.
Otherwise the passage is difficult to understand.
8 The previous August was eleven months before.
407
APPENDIX A
lady and her said brother confer together about a necklace of
pearl, which the said lady intimated to him she had bought ;
and that they discoursed it must cost about 1500 1. And the
informant saith, she heard the said lady say, she had bespoke
a coach, and that she would have it lined with red velvet,
and have gold fringe on it within three weeks ; and said,
although they lived but closely in their lodgings, yet very
plentifully in clothes and dyet, and had a coach to attend them
continually from week to week. And this informant saith,
while she lived with the said lady, she this informant was kept
up so privately, that she had not scarce liberty to come down
for a cup of beer, which she really believes was, that this infor-
mant might not have opportunity to discover them. And
saith, the said lady gave her a charge, not to tell who she was, but
to say she was a Dutch captain's wife, whose husband is dead ;
which she this informant observeth.
" The mark of Ann ( ) Hill." 1
Another fortnight went by before any steps were taken. A
contemporary newspaper supplies particulars. 2
" WHITEHALL
" July 1 6 His Highness by Warrant directed, Sir John Barkstead
Lieutenant of the Tower, hath given order for the release of
one that goes by the name of Lucy Barlow, who for some time
hath been a prisoner in the Tower of London. She passeth
under the character of Charles Stuart's wife or mistress, and
hath a young son whom she openly declareth to be his ; and it
is generally believed, the boy being very like him, and both
the mother and child provided for by him. When she was
apprehended she had one Master Howard in her company,
and the original of this Royal Transcript was found about her
sealed with Charles his Signet and signed with his own hand,
and Subscribed by his secretary Nicholas Which you have here
transcribed verbatim :
" CHARLES R.
" Wee do by these presents of our especial grace give and grant
unto Mrs. Lucy Barlow an annuity or yearly pension of five
Vol. v, p. 178.
2 Mercuris Politicus, July 10-17, ^SG. There is a copy in the British
Museum.
408
APPENDIX A
thousand livres to be paid to her or her Assignes in the city
of Antwerp or in such other convenient place as she shall
desire, at four several payments of equal portions ; the first
payment to begin from the first of July 1654 and so to continue
from three months to three months during her life with
assurance to better the same when it shall please God to restore
to us our Kingdoms.
" Given under our Sign Manual at our court at Collogn this
2 ist day of January 1655. And in the sixth year of our reign.
By His Majesties command
" Edward Nicholas."
" By this those that hanker after him may see they are
already furnished with an Heir apparent and what a pious
charitable Prince they have for their Master and how well he
disposeth of the collections and contributions which they make
for him here toward the maintenance of his concubines and
Royal issue. Order is taken forthwith to send away his Lady
of pleasure and the young Heir and set them on Shoar in
Flanders Which is no ordinary curtesie."
Monmouth's anxiety to live another twenty-four hours is
at last revealed. His first discharge from the Tower was
on Thursday, July 16, 1657, ^ s second discharge to his death
on St. Swithin's Day, Wednesday, July 15, 1685.
In a superstitious age, and historians speak of the super-
stition of the Duke, as though the failing were peculiar to him,
there would have been something particularly heartening in
the sunshine of the morning of Thursday, July 16, 1685,
something happily ominous of history repeating itself, so far
that Holland, where all his world lay, might once more receive
him a fugitive. Perhaps the James at Whitehall was aware of,
or had his attention called to, the coincidences of the anni-
versary, and determined to take no risk !
409
1
VII
forcible attempt at kidnapping, the mention
of the name Harvey, the fact that Lucy was at
the time living apart from Charles, their speedy
departure together to Paris before Monmouth
was two months old, above all, the curious name
of her residence so suspiciously like a misprint for Boscobel, alike
incline us to place the following incident from the Heroic Life
after Lucy's return from England. It is the sequence in which
it is there given and although Roberts places it immediately
after the birth, and Steinman and Fea follow his example,
all their authority is the use of the word " babe." 1
After stating that an English nurse was provided for the
boy, the Heroic Life continues : " he was for privacy 2 lodged at
the house of Mr. Claes Ghysen 3 living in Schiedam, about a mile
from Rotterdam, his mother lodging at the same time at the
house of Mrs Harvey mother of the famous doctor Harvey and
lived in an abundance of pomp and splendour having a gentleman
and other servants to attend her."
Steinman observes : " the author of this pamphlet the
Heroic Life gives Lucy Walter as a lodger to Mrs. Harvey
mother of the celebrated physician who died in 1605,"* and
1 The employment of the designation " babe " for Charles I. by
James I. when the former had reached young manhood has been much
ridiculed ; the common use to-day of the words boy and girl in con-
nection with adults of thirty and upwards may seem equally foolish to
posterity.
2 There was no question of privacy in 1649 when Lucy was openly
visiting Henrietta Maria.
3 There is no record of Claes Ghysen in the Town Documents of
Schiedam.
4 Charles II. was well acquainted with. Dr. Harvey. It was in his
company he witnessed the Battle of Edge Hill. Dr. Doran's Book of
the Princes of Wales, p. 423.
410
APPENDIX A
suggests that Mrs. John Harvey is intended. As we have
shown the King and Lucy ? stayed in this house in May
1656. Steinman quotes authorities, which we have verified,
to show that John Harvey had a house there. 1 The association
of the King and Lucy and the Harveys is of much interest.
It will be noted in the reference to the pension given on
p. 409 that Antwerp is assigned her head-quarters, and as late
as 1658 the King continued an intimate of this house. The
Princess Royal having made one of her periodic sojourns with
her brother, Stephen " ffox " comments as follows :
" Ant 4 Mar (March) 1658
" This is the day of seperation the Princesse being going back
to Breda the Kinge brings her to West Wessell . . . dines
there and returns later to supper at Mr. Harvey's who provides
an entertainment for his Maj tie ; both the Dukes go full to
Breda." *
The Heroic Life goes on to state in detail that Lucy setting
out to visit her child attended by the gentleman the latter
making an excuse quitted her company as for a moment and
hurrying ahead represented to Ghysen that he was sent by
the mother for the " babe," and carried both him and the nurse
away.
Lucy having waited till night was drawing on eventually set
out for Schiedam herself, " and being arrived and finding her
son gone, I want words wherewith to express her grief and
surprise ; she rent her apparel, tore the hair off her head, and
with whole showers of tears bewailed the greatness of her loss
and the deploreableness of her condition."
Adding Celtic excitement, the seventeenth century want of
control, Madame d'Aulnoy makes so vivid for us, the pamphlet
yet goes on to show Lucy was far from being the helpless,
feckless creature her detractors would have us believe. Where
many a woman would have been absolutely prostrate she :
" yet suffered not grief to prevail so far, as to make her incapable
of endeavouring to right herself, wherefore she presently gave
1 Ireland's History of Kent, vol. ii, 167. Berry's Pedigrees of Essex,
ff. 24-5. Manning and Bray's History of Surrey, vol. i, f. 402. On
p. 221, vol. iiiof the same work it states that Harvey became receiver
general to Catherine of Bragai^a.
2 Flanders Papers, 1658-9. Item 37 (R.O.).
APPENDIX A
order for the providing of horses," and " posted away to
Maeslandsluice ... she suspected that he (her boy) had been
carried thither in order to be transported to England." The
blow came from nearer home : it was undoubtedly the King's
first abortive effort to steal away their son. In 1649 it would
never have occurred to Lucy that the English would attempt
to possess themselves of him.
" Riding all night," Lucy reached her destination, " early in
the morning just as the Sieur Newport, one of the lords of the
State, and the Mayor of Maesland were taking boat for the
Heague ; those that were with her advised her to make appli-
cation to him as the likeliest person to assist her, telling her he
could speak English, whereupon she addressed herself to him in
that languish discovering to him the condition of herself and
son and the relation in which they stood to the King of
England." An abundance of people flocking about them the
Mayor " advised her to go into some house and make no noys
about it, least she thereby prevent the accomplishing of her
desire." This she consented to, once more revealing her
excellent common sense.
Systematic enquiries were set afoot and the Mayor ordered
that no ships were to go out of harbour, " till they were
searched. Notwithstanding which they could make no dis-
covery of him till about 10 or 12 days after when he was found
at Loosdymen where he had been all that time concealed,
and having to her inexpressible joy recovered him she took
him to a ... house at Boscal where they resided some
time."
Save for this incident history is silent in regard to Lucy for
over a year.
We wonder how she lived after quitting England and how
she fared. She appears to have continued to receive her
pension. We wonder if she and the King ever met, if her
mission to England was abortive or successful. The King's
friends talk in general terms of her " wild disgraceful courses,"
the Cromwellians as usual are absolutely silent, and we may be
sure they would have been only too glad to have had something
to say. 1 When one considers the harm, the enduring damage,
1 The invariably vague manner in which she is charged with profligate
conduct is not unlike the allegations of immorality with which John
Milton and others of a like fry presumed to assail the memory of the
412
APPENDIX A
which Lucy, even as the King's mistress, might have done the
Royalist Cause had she been so minded, the vengeance she
might have exacted, the scandal and shame with which she
might have covered Charles, 1 we can find but one standard
by which to compare her conduct, that of another woman of
gentle blood who trusted to her own ruth, an hundred and
thirty years later in an English prince being strong enough to
cleave for life to her ; a wife who had also a son and a daughter
involved in her ruin, and despite this " was faithful to death,
and beyond death." 2
If history is silent as regards Lucy it affords ample evidence
of the deterioration of his Majesty. Of his downward career,
once the divorce was effected, we have abundant proof. When
his advisers had insisted on his, to outward appearance, separating
himself from Lucy, and Mary had deserted him, he had
endeavoured to distract his mind by superintending the studies
of his brother Harry, but when in April he had removed to
Bruges his exigencies compelled him to leave Gloucester
behind. We find before long that he has a mistress established
in Bruges. This was probably Catherine Peg, whose son
Charles Fitz-Charles, afterwards Earl of Plymouth, was born
in 1657.3 Bruges was but fifty miles from Brussels and its
gay viceregal court of which, on pp. 167-169, Mme. d'Aulnoy
gives us such a vivid glimpse.
We are all vulnerable somewhere ; the Restoration Court
shows us where the King's danger lay. Whispers were speedily
circulating in London and in Paris as to his amours ; by 1657
Martyr King. To bring indefinite charges of crime with no particulars
and no data is frequently a surprisingly successful proceeding provided
always they are repeated often enough.
1 Picture Barbara Palmer under similar circumstances !
2 Maria Fitzherbert.
3 Catherine Peg may have been a Roman Catholic. Her son was
brought up in the Spanish Netherlands until he was about seventeen or
eighteen and was known as Don Carlos. The daughter she had sub-
sequently by the King, Charlotte Catherine, became a Benedictine
nun (Dame Cecilia), and died at Dunkirk in 175-. Catherine afterwards
married Sir Edward Green, and their daughter Justinia was a nun of
the same order but a different house. Her, & G^., vol. iii, 414-19.
Query : was Monmouth's sister whom the King repudiated, and who was
also a Roman Catholic, educated at the same place ?
413
APPENDIX A
the matter was notorious and Lady Byron * was described as
his seventeenth mistress. We have searched in vain, save
the one instance referred to on p. 71 for any lapse during the
time Lucy held her gentle sway.
In December 1656 Mary visited him at Bruges on her way
home from Paris, but with the passing of Lucy the old sympathy
between them vanished, their intercourse but gave rise to
mutual fret and discord. Mary had brought vile charges
against Lucy, and her brother in turn reproached her for light
conduct in regard to Jermyn's nephew. His own life not
being all it might, gave the Princess excellent subject for
retaliation and the whole winter an acrimonious correspondence
was kept up, while Charles to the horror of his advisers went
slowly and steadily to the devil.
It is easy to say he should never have yielded to the impor-
tunities with which he was assailed, that he, before all, as
the son of a man who had accepted a death of peculiar horror
rather than betray his principles, should have stood firm.
Principles like features skip a generation and if Charles was
the son of the Martyr King, he was grandson of the man who
light-heartedly found Paris worth a mass. Despite this we
must admit that the young English King, for all the passionate
sensuousness of his face (and notwithstanding the scandals
associated with his name !), was not a lover to rank with
Henri le Grand. For we know well if the latter would sacrifice
his conscience, even as Charles did when he went to Scotland,
we know also he would have condemned Sully to the Question,
before he would have allowed that solemn person to bully him
into putting away his Gabrielle. But alas ! even as we write
it is forced on us that the grandsire was conqueror, and his
descendant a penniless exile.
1 Eleanor Needham, daughter of Lord Kilmorey, m. 1638 at the age
of eleven Peter Warburton, Esq. He died in 1642. She married
secondly the first Lord Byron. After his death she became the mistress
of the King during his exile, and avarice being her ruling passion, she
contrived to extort from him in the midst of his distress upwards of
15,000. Lady Byron must have succeeded Catherine Peg, for the
King never consorted with more than one woman at a time. By an
.extraordinary coincidence an Eleanor Needham was to figure in the life
of his son Monmouth. She was the younger sister of the beautiful
Mrs. Middleton and bore the Duke four children.
4H
APPENDIX A
The tragedy draws to its close.
In the summer of 1656 a new factor appeared on the scene
in the person of George Digby, Earl of Bristol, then in his
forty-fifth year. This cavalier had taken service in the French
army when Charles left Paris in 1654, and had thoroughly
ingratiated himself with Mazarin. Upon peace being concluded
with England, an article being dismissal of the English Royalists,
Bristol joined the King at Bruges, having with him his private
secretary, Arthur Slingsby. With plenty of money in his
pockets he immediately loomed large in the penurious little
Court, undertaking various delicate offices for the Cause,
among other the final ruin of Lucy and the abduction of her
eldest child. This man of the world, instructed by Ormonde
and Hyde, at once realised that the King must at all costs
be set free from the last tie, and also that while Lucy kept
possession of her son she had an invaluable talisman in retaining
the interest of Charles, so they determined to separate
the two.
At last, in the late summer of 1657, an opening for her ruin
seemed to offer itself, for one of her retainers put himself within
reach of the civil law.
On August 20 Hyde wrote from Brussels to Nicholas, who was
in attendance on the King at Bruges.
" On Friday a kinsman or servant of Mrs. Barlow stabbed
Tom Howard through the arm with a very dangerous wound
and excaped, but Justice will be very severely prosecuted against
both mistress and man. John Mennes l is very solicitous in
it," he concludes. Whether any steps were taken we do not
know for Louis XIV. bombarded Brussels in 1695, and all the
records were burned. 2
1 Admiral Sir John Mennes (1599-1671), " Jack Mince," had served in
the Royalist army and in 1644 was appointed Governor of North Wales,
he commanded the Swallow on Charles's expedition to England (1648),
and afterwards under Rupert. He was one of the King's enforcedly
idle followers.
2 Just over a year afterward (in 1658) Tom Howard, back at the
Hague, was mixed up in a disreputable squabble in that town. Downing,
the English republican resident, wrote home to the effect that Howard
had entrusted all his secrets and papers to a " whoor " with whom he
consorted ; that somebody at the Hague became possessed in turn of
Howard's papers, who proceeded against him to the tune of 10,000
APPENDIX A
Hyde was exultant at the probable ruin of the helpless
obstacle in his path, but Bristol took a more serious view of
her claims. " You may be merry concerninge Mrs. Barlow,"
he wrote to him under date of September 2, 1657, " but I
am sure I cannot bee it enough to answere your levityes,"
but he still worked at his self-imposed task. All the autumn
the battle raged between this lonely defenceless woman, still
so young, and the united forces of the English and the
Spanish.
The King's resources were as usual parlous and no doubt
under the pretence of providing her with her pension " in
kind," Arthur Slingsby, Bristol's secretary, persuaded her to
lodge in his house for a time, he being newly married. Upon
taking this fatal step Lucy found herself a prisoner, her attempts
to escape being in vain. Slingsby's next proceeding was to
declare that she was in his debt, presumably for board and
lodging, and, on December 6, Don Alonso, the Governor's
Intendant, wrote to the King at Bruges, an account of the
attempt made the previous night to carry Mrs. Barlow to one
of the public prisons of the city and to separate her from her
son ; the whole street was gathered together scandalised by
the violence of the Colonel, who consented at length that the
lady and her son should stay in the Earl of Castlehaven's x
alleging his fear that should he succeed to his brother's earldom he would
be ruined. [He was more likely afraid that if his double dealing were
published to the world he would be equally discredited as either a
Royalist or Republican.] Downing cleverly got these documents into
his hands, and declares his intention of keeping them till he receive
instructions from home. Because, as he explains, " It is the same
Tom Howard that was in the toun " (Tower?) " and that Ch. Stuart's
letter to him refers to his journey." An attempt has been made to
enmesh Lucy with Howard's troubles. It is evident that Howard was a
thorough bad lot, as false to his republican retainers as he was to his
King, for Downing concludes, " I beleeve by some inclinings which I
have that he is desirous to go again into Englande. What if you should
let him have a pass if he shall desire it as about his private affairs and then
seeze him or otherwise as you think fit to let the business lye for a time
as to the making use of it against him. If it should be known I have given
you this account he would endeavour to have me killed." Despite these
statements no record is preserved at the Hague of Howard's law suit.
1 James Tuchet, third Earl of Castlehaven in the peerage of Ireland,
succeeded his father, who was beheaded on a charge of felony in 1631.
416
APPENDIX A
house for that night, Don Alonso " having been informed
of the occurrence which every one condemns has replaced
Mrs Barlow with her son in her house on her giving security
to await the knowlege of the King's will." l
Castlehaven in person was the bearer of the letter.
Egidio (or Giles) Mottet, Cadenas' secretary, states by the
same messenger that " he is so much ashamed of the proceedings
of Col Slingsby and his family against Madame Barlow and her
child, that he leaves the particulars to the Earl of Castlehaven
and Mons Barckclay 2 who have been wittnesses to it, and who
go this day to the Court. 3 The Lord Ambassador Cadanas
has written to the King about it, being forced by the
clamour of the people, who found this action most abominable
barborous and unnatural." 4 Mottet goes on to say that the
worse of all was that Slingsby had given out his proceedings
were by the King's orders which notion he Mottet had
endeavoured to dispel. In conclusion he asks his Majests
opinion.
Ormonde wrote in reply that the King took the proceedings
in the business of Mrs. Barlow " very kindly " but that his
orders to Slingsby had been to get the child in a quiet way
with purposes of advantages to them both, but never understood
it should be attempted with that noise and scandal and so had
written to the ambassador. Ormonde continues : the King
persists in his desire to have the child delivered in to such hands
as he shall appoint ; if Mottet can effect this it will be an
obligation to the King and a great charity to the child and to
the mother herself " If she shall now at length return to such
a way of life as may redeem in some measure the reproach of her
passed ways, if she consent not to this she will add to her
former follies a most unnatural one in reference to her child,
since neither of them will be further cared for or owned by
the King who will take any good office done to her as an injury
to him." 5
The writer continues for about another hundred words in
He was a Royalist general in Ireland, and died without issue in 1684.
He was a Roman Catholic.
1 Steinman's Althorp Memoirs, Addenda.
2 Subsequently Anne Hyde's " co-respondent."
3 At Bruges.
4 Steinmann's Altborp Memoirs, Addenda. 5 Ibid.
2V 417
APPENDIX A
the same strain, but as they are obviously his own opinions
we do not transcribe them.
The question immediately arises, why did not the King
take the same step in regard to this child that he did in the
case of the Duke of Gloucester ? When the latter was sub-
mitted to an organised religious persecution by his mother,
the King was compelled to claim his brother ds his subject,
ere Henrietta would relinquish him. The answer is im-
mediately forthcoming that it would have been a huge em-
barrassment to define who the boy was. Hence these despotic
methods.
The King, whose blood was now up, gave his erstwhile idol
a taste of that lamentable spirit that caused him to insist on
Queen Catherine countenancing that evil woman, Barbara
Palmer. He wrote personally to Don John giving his version
of the affair " since when," Slingsby assures his Majesty
some twelve days after, Cadenas had been " out of countenance
from the reproofs he has had from the court and the complaint
made against him by the Council of Brabant for interrupting
the course of justice. Slingsby now declared he had a civil
action against Mrs. Barlow and told Don Alonso that he would
proceed legally against Mottet and Castlehaven unless they
either paid the money he claimed from Mrs. Barlow or rendered
her up. Slingsby continues that he is informed Mrs. Barlow
is prepared to submit provided the child is neither with
O'Neile or himself ; he anticipates the next proposal will be
that Castlehaven or Mottet be the guardian, but is quite
certain the King will refuse any capitulation with her and will
have the child on his own terms. The Ambassador who has
found out her qualities (though at the time of writing she was
and had been ever since the fracas in the enjoyment of
Castlehaven's protection), will not let her go until she gives
the King satisfaction. Mr. O'Neile desires that certain letters
and papers concerning the King should be got out of her hands ;
she has said that if the King did not send her pension she would
post up all his letters to her ; ! suggests the King should write
a kind letter to Don Alonso desiring that her trunks may
be searched in Slingsby's presence for some suspicious
papers which she has had by her ever since she came out of
1 Apparently a fashionable threat ! Stt pp. 139, 149.
418
APPENDIX A
England and that all papers whatsoever may be put into his
hands." i
According to Disney quoting Gosffrett "Mr. Prodgerswent
for him who is now Duke of Monmouth and took him away
from his mother while she was seeking a paper ! . . . When
she miss'd him she immediately went in quest of him." Miss
Scott states that Lucy held out till January 1658 and then
" suddenly yielded," but gives no authority. 2
That the separation was completed by the spring we know
from the following letter endorsed :
"4th April 1658 N.S. Mr. Thos: Ross Mrs. Barlow
and (illegible)
Right Honble
" I most humbly thanke you for y rs of the first inst: ; by
Mr Roots w ch I saw this night at my arrivall from a place
whither Mr. Hall 3 sent mee : the employment was to take his
little son out of the hands he was in and bestow him (for a
short time) in another place both out of his mother's knowledge
or anyones else's but such as I took to help me and himself
and Mr Winkers younger brother : I confess I wondered when
I was sent to Mr. Hall and injoined this with injunction to
correspond with the party to whom he is ? Where notwith-
standing Mr. Hall tells me he shall not stay, and I am apt to
believe I am designed to be his tutor because pickt out at this
time to take charge of him, but this a few days will discover
for he cannot be safe from his mother's intrigues whereso(ever)
he is. It is a great pitty so pretty a child should be in such
hands as hitherto have neglected to teach him to read or tell
twenty though he hath a great deal of wit and a great desire
to learn." 4
It is fortunate notwithstanding these strictures that the
child's sojourn under Ross's care was but short. He might
have taught him his own appalling caligraphy. Much has been
written concerning the illiteracy of Monmouth, but if his
education was neglected, it was rather at its finishing than at
its commencement. At fourteen he wrote very much better
1 Some of these papers concerned Howard's negotiation in the
English visit. Information of William Disney, Add. MSS. t 28094, f. 7.
8 The Travels of the King, p. 350.
8 The King. 4 Flanders Papers R.O.
419
APPENDIX A
than does the average boy of to-day of that age, and though
the style differed slightly from the elegance of his adult hand
it was equally firm. There is a facsimile in The Scotts of
Buccleuch*
Macpherson 2 says : " His tutor Thomas Ross, a Scotsman,
put thoughts of legitimacy into his head ; and would have had
Bishop Cozens certify that he had married the King and Mrs.
Walters who refused it with indignity, and gave immediate
notice of it to the King who removed Ross from about him." 3
There is not any record of Ross being in Paris where Cosin,
as chaplain to Henrietta Maria, was. Proof to the contrary
is to be found among his letters in the Flanders Papers. He
continued in the Lowlands one of the numerous hangers-on of
the English Court. 4
' Vol. i, P . 417. 2 P. 75-
8 If this unfortunate child could understand what was meant by
legitimacy or illegitimacy in the summer of 1658 it is curious he could not
have comprehended it a few months before and have learned the truth
from his unfortunate mother's own lips, who had long anticipated their
violent separation.
* It may be as well to here record the fate of the disowned daughter.
Happy for the boy had he shared it instead of being the shuttlecock
of their father's love and their uncle's convictions. Mary was not
allowed to come to England until she had made an unimportant marriage
with an Irish gentleman named Sarsfield. In Cal. Dom. S. P., 1673,
it is recorded at intervals that allowance of six hundred a year was paid
to her [this was afterwards reduced to 400], and Monmouth and the
King interested themselves in re-establishing the husband in possession
of some lands he had formerly owned in Ireland. Shortly after he died
leaving three children, and a year later the widow married William
Fanshawe, a nephew of the famous Sir Richard Fanshawe and his ultimate
heir. By March 1683 the Fanshawes got into great difficulties, and
petitioned the King for aid, which was granted. All the documents of
the case are preserved at the R.O. in an uncatalogued bundle.
An excellent synopsis of the business with confirmatory passages
from other sources is given in King Monmouth, Appendix A, where Mrs.
Fanshawe' s autograph is reproduced. She wrote an excellent hand for
her time, rather like that of the King's sister the Princess Royal. Charles
continued firm in his decision not to recognise the tie between them,
"whether as a genuine belief or from a political motive," to adapt
Roberts, we do not know, and as the wife of a poor man, and the mother
of a large family, she was, of course, at his mercy.
She is last heard of alive in 1695, just ten years from the death of her
420
APPENDIX A
Much confusion has arisen over the matter of the boy's tutor
and it is of the greatest interest both on account of the change
of religion and the rumours of the marriage. We have already
quoted the statements of the Heroic Life that upon the King
going to Scotland 1650 the infant was committed to the care
of one Goff.
The pamphlet continues, " when he was about eight or nine
years old he was taken from Goif and committed to the care
of Mr. Rose (Ross) and sent to Julen a place about seven
leagues from Paris, there to be accommodated with learning."
It is possible that Monmouth went twice through the hands
of the first named. Dr. Stephen Goffe, born 1605, was
chaplain to Charles I. and an old and trusted friend of that
monarch and his Queen, between whom he was an emissary.
Quitting England in 1648, he became attached to the
establishment of the Prince of Wales. It was from his lips
Charles learned the dread news that he was King, Goffe
undertaking to address him by the ominous word Majesty. 1
When the King went to Scotland, his jailer-subjects per-
mitted him to take but the most meagre suite, and the majority
of his people gravitated to Henrietta Maria, Goffe with the
rest. As formal preceptor to the infant of whom her Majesty
was guardian, he was a person equally agreeable to her and to
the King. In January 1652, about four months after the
King's escape, Goffe became a Roman Catholic and was
professed an Oratorian.
With his early association with the frightened abducted
child and his mother it is very natural the Queen should now
have committed the boy to Goff e's tutorship, having in view the
double purpose of reassuring him, and procuring his conversion
to her faith. Goffe had already acted in a similar capacity to
the Duke of Gloucester, and although his proselytising efforts
were in that negotiation crowned with little success, it might
have been expected that in the case of the younger boy he
ill-fated brother. Cf. S. P. Dom. Charles II. f vol. 434 King Mon-
moutbj Appendix A. Steinman : Addenda and the Notes to Mr.H. C.
Fanshawe's edition of Anne Lady Fanskawe's Memoirs. In this volume
a complete pedigree of Mary's Fanshawe's descendants is given. The
Earl of Lucan is the present representative of her Sarsfield marriage.
No portrait is known to exist.
1 Ellis Letters, Second series, vol. iii, p. 347.
421
APPENDIX A
would have a comparatively free hand. Both Macpherson and
Algernon Sidney vouch for Monmouth having been in the
Oratorian College under Goffe.
Goffe at the earliest could not have been accessible as a
Catholic preceptor until 1664 when the boy left France.
Presumably he served some sort of a novitiate, even if ordained
immediately after he was received. There is a great difference
between a secular priest and the professed member of an
Order. The King treated his son as legitimate before the
Restoration, giving him the dignity, if not the acknowledgment,
of a prince by appointing a nobleman as his governor. This
was William Crofts of Little Saxham, Suffolk, who had long
been attached to the suite of the Queen Mother, and whom the
King now raised to the peerage under the date of May 18, 1658.
It is frequently stated that Crofts did not take up this post until
after the death of Lucy, and further that he was the successor
of Goffe and Ross : but his continued absences, particularly
after the Restoration, shows that his post was merely a formal
one ; and although the Rev. S. H. A. Hervey, whose conclusions
are always to be respected, and who has compiled what is
undoubtedly the best account of Crofts, 1 gives weight to the
report that Crofts' appointment was of the later date ; people
as widely different as the Duke of York (Macpherson) and
Algernon Sidney corroborate each other as to the part played
bj him in the Catholic training of Monmouth, though it is
quite possible that Algernon Sidney, who had in his head that
Crofts was Governor and knowing it occurred about the time
of the boy passing into his care, wrote loosely : he was not
giving evidence. In a letter to Saville under the date of
May 12, 1679, Algernon Sidney communicated as follows on
the exclusion agitation : "In the end it was ordered that a
bill should be drawn up to debar him (York) from the succession.
Not to trouble you with many particulars I will only recite
one. Which is that a gentleman moving the words should be
put in ' or ever had been a papist,' they were laid aside as
some believe in respect unto him who by the direction of the
late Lord Crofts, was brought up under the discipline of the
Peres de POratoire." 2 " Monmouth was bred a Roman
Catholic under the name of Crofts." 3
1 Little Saxham Parish Registers.
3 Sidney Letters, 1746, p. 68. Macpherson, 75.
422
APPENDIX A
According to Stannier Clarke, the boy reverted to Pro-
testantism by order of his father on the appointment of Ross
and on the authority of the Heroic Life he was sent to Julen
under the name of Crofts when he was eight or nine. Goffe,
who was the intimate friend of Lord Jermyn, would have reason
to work for the acknowledgment of the legitimacy, hoping to
train a Catholic Heir, an idea that would have an intense appeal
to Henrietta. Ross, a Protestant, would have no such reason
to influence him, for York and Gloucester were staunch in their
religion. If Stannier Clarke wrote Ross in error for Crofts
the whole thing becomes clear : Charles hearing what his mother
and Jermyn were contriving through Goffe, and not wishing to
wound her, handed the control of the boy to her most trusted
Protestant servant and had him removed seven leagues from
her influence. Crofts continued as governor till 1662, when his
interesting charge was brought to England and surrendered to
the King.
To return to Lucy.
But six months after her child was finally taken from her
she died. She lingered in the Low Countries all the summer.
It is probable it took her a long time to discover where her boy
was. One record exists.
" There was another combat between Madam Barlow who
bor Charles Stuart two children and Dr Floid. He got the
wors and is gon for Holland. Hee was one of Charles Stuart
his Chapplins." *
Macpherson, inaccurate to the last, states she died at Paris
after the Restoration, of the disease incident to her profession.
Without for one instant wishing to dispute the authority of
the (presumed) royal writer on this subject, we venture to
point out he was totally inaccurate in his chronology* We turn
to Steinman.
" Colonel Chester has met with an important document in
the form of an Administrative entry of the Prerogative
Court.
1 Thurloe State Papers, vol. vii, 837.
423
APPENDIX A
Lucy Walter Dec 1658
als Barlow On the six* day issued for the letters
of the ad'con to Anne Busfield wife
of John Busfield y e Aunt and next of
Kinne of Lucy Walter als Barlow
late of y e parts beyond the seas spinster
Dec'd to ad ter ye goods ch'lls &
debts of y e sayd Dec'd she being
first sworn truly to administer etc." fc5
Evelyn states she died miserably without anything to bury
her. But if that were so, would her relatives have troubled to
take out letters of administration ? l Macpherson is the sole
authority for the statement that she died in Paris. William
Erskine of the King's household was sent to superintend her
obsequies : previous to her death he disbursed her pension.
He told White Kennet 2 that the King " never had any
intention of marrying her," though how he knew it is difficult
to say, for in 1648 he was but a boy. He describes her as a
" very ill woman," and it is quite possible that betrayed,
abandoned, and flaming with truly Celtic fury at the wrongs
inflicted upon her, she proved by no means agreeable to
interview.
It was on her death-bed, Ferguson tells us, she so particularly
reiterated the fact of her marriage, and without doubt whatever
passed there, had a very marked influence on the marriage
negotiations that took place a year or two after between Lucy's
son and Erskine's niece the young Countess of Buccleuch.
On February 19, 1663, about six months after Monmouth
came to England, Alsopp, the King's brewer, visited Pepys the
diarist, and the conversation turned on " the Duke of Mon-
mouth's mother's brother, a Welchman who held a place at
Court and who talked very broadly about the King being
married to his sister." 3 From this it will be seen that the
1 Fea in King Monmouth surmises that, if alive, Lucy's brothers kept
out of the way until the Restoration.
2 White Kennet, "Weather Cock Kennet," as his contemporaries
unkindly dubbed him, started life as a rabid Tory, seceding to the Whigs
from interested motives after the Dutch invasion of 1688. He compiled
a register and chronicle of items of information that he happened across
from any source.
3 We append the following curious association of the name of Allsopp
424
APPENDIX A
question of Monmouth's legitimacy was not an artificial agita"
tion raised by politicians of a later date, but was spoken of from
his first coming to reside in England. David Walter and
William Walter figure in the printed lists of the restored
monarch's household. One of them was high in his confidence
and was constantly sent as a Special Messenger to the Duchesse
d'Orleans.
Although Justus is the only brother whose name is actually
associated with Lucy's career, there is nothing to show
she had not others ; we know, for instance, that there was
Richard.
Her father, William Walter, ignored Richard in his will ;
her mother makes no mention of Justus. There may have been
sons they both ignored. It has been suggested that the man
referred to was Lucy's nephew, but they must have at this
time been children, younger than Monmouth. We have been
unable to find out anything in regard to either William Walter
or David Walter. Again may not Justus have had a second
Christian name, and for sundry reasons, dropped the first ?
These are but conjectures, yet unless we take the opinion of her
biased opponents, all Lucy's life is but conjecture, for not a
single impartial historian, either contemporary or modern,
exists. We do not know if Lucy Walter was or was not the
wife of King Charles II. But this doubt is no excuse for the
persistent blackening of her character in other respects. Unless
it is that her claim was so overwhelming that, only, by thus
besmirching her reputation past recovery, an excuse sufficiently
strong for the repudiation of her, and of hers, could be found.
and a Richard Walter. " On February 19, 1657, Thomazine Harwood
petitioned for the exchange of Richard Walter, surgeon, prisoner at
Ostend, for Jacob Hollobus, prisoner at Chelsea, with the certificate of
Roger Allsopp that he has Hollobus prisoner." Cal. Dom. S. P., 1656-7.
8/88.
425
APPENDIX B
LORD ARRAN had need to pause ! The punish-
ment for fighting in the precincts of the Court,
and this embraced the demesne of the Royal
residence, was the loss of the right hand,
though in later days Royal clemency usually
commuted the extreme infliction to a colossal fine. In 1686
William first Duke of Devonshire was fined .30,000
because of a fracas in the withdrawing room at Whitehall.
Owing to the Revolution he escaped payment. 1 Similar
penalties were in force throughout Europe and in 1674
Graham of Claverhouse (Viscount Dundee) who had come
to blows with a compatriot at the Loo, the summer palace of
William of Orange, was compelled to flee the country not-
withstanding that he had just saved the Prince's life at risk of
his own. 2 The following is the contemporary official form for
the English ceremony of Mutilation.
" The King's Court or House where the King resideth, is
accounted a place so sacred that if any man presume to strike
another within the Palace where the King's Royal Person
resideth and by such Stroke only draw blood, his right hand
shal be striken off, & he committed to perpetual Prison &
fined. By the Antient Laws of England only striking in the
King's Court was punisht with death & loss of goods.
' To make the deeper impression and terrour into men's
minds for striking in the Kings Court it hath been ordered
that the Punishment for striking should be executed with
great Solemnity & Ceremony in brief thus. 1 ,
' The Sergeant of the Kings Woodyard brings to the place
of execution a Square Block, a Beetle Staple & Cords to fasten
1 Joseph Grove's Life, 1764, p. 188 ; LuttrelPs Brief Relation,
vol. i. p. 400, F. L. Bickley's Cavendish Family, 1911, pp. 167-8.
1 Memoirs of Sir Ewen Cameron, Maitland Club, 1842, pp. 274-5.
426
APPENDIX B
the hand thereto, the Yeoman of the Scullery provides a great
fire of Coals by the Block wherein the Searing Irons brought
by the Chief Farrier are ready for the Chief Surgeon to use.
Vinegar & Cold Water brought by the groom of the Saucery ;
the Chief Officiers of the Cellar & Pantry are to be ready, one
with a Cup of Red Wine & the other with a Manchet *
to offer the criminal after the Hand is cut off & the Stump
seared. The Sergent of the Ewry is to bring linnen to wind
about & wrap the Arm. The Yeoman of the Poultry a
Cock to lay to it. The Yeoman of the Chandry seared Clothes,
theJMaster Cook a sharp Dresser Knife which at the place of
Execution is to be held upright by the Sergeant of the Larder
till Execution be performed by an Officier appointed thereto
etc. After all he shall be imprisoned during life, & Fine &
Ransome at the Kings Will.
" In the King's Court not onely Striking is forbidden but
also all occasions for Striking and thereupon the Lawe Saith,
Nullas Citationes aut summonitiones licet facere infra Palatium
Regis apud Westm vel alibi ubi Rex residet." 2
1 A roll.
2 Chamberlayne's Anglics Notitia, 1st Ed. 1669, pp. 291-4.
427
APPENDIX C
THE EARL OF OXFORD AND THE ACTRESS
l
following is taken verbatim from Peter
Cunningham's Life of Nell Gwyn, 1852.
p. 191, the Appendix dealing with
Grammont's Memoirs. He quotes from
this work as follows :
" ' The Earl of Oxford fell in love with a handsome, graceful
actress, belonging to the Duke's Theatre, who performed
to perfection, particularly the part of Roxana, in a very fashion-
able new play, insomuch that she ever after retained that name,
This creature being both very virtuous and very modest, or,
if you please, wonderfully obstinate, proudly rejected the
addresses and presents of the Earl of Oxford. This resistance
inflamed his passion ; he had recourse to invectives, and even
to spells, but all in vain. This disappointment had such
effect upon him, that he could neither eat nor drink ; this
did not signify to him ; but his passion at length became so
violent, that he could not neither play nor smoke. In this
extremity, Love had recourse to Hymen. The Earl of Oxford,
one of the first peers of the realm, is, you know, a very handsome
man ; he is of the Order of the Garter, which greatly adds to an
air naturally noble. In short, from his outward appearance you
would suppose he was really possessed of some sense ; but
as soon as ever you hear him speak, you are perfectly convinced
of the contrary. This passionate lover presented her with a
promise of marriage, in due form, signed with his own hand ;
she would not, however, rely upon this, but the next day she
thought there would be no danger, when the earl himself
came to her lodgings attended by a clergyman, and another
428
APPENDIX C
man for a witness. The marriage was accordingly solemnised
with all due ceremonies, in the presence of her fellow-players
who attended as a witness on her part. You will suppose,
perhaps, that the new countess had nothing to do but appear
at court according to her rank, and to display the earPs arms
upon her carriage. This was far from being the case. When
examination was made concerning the marriage, it was found
to be a mere deception : it appeared that the pretended priest
was one of my lord's trumpeters, and the witness his kettle-
drummer. The parson and his companion never appeared
after the ceremony was over ; and as for the other witnesses,
they endeavoured to persuade her that the Sultana Roxana
might have supposed, in some part or other of a play, that she
was really married. It was all to no purpose that the poor
creature claimed the protection of the laws of God and man,
both which were violated and abused, as well as herself, by this
infamous imposition. In vain did she throw herself at the
king's feet to demand justice : she had only to rise up again
without redress ; and happy might she think herself to receive
an annuity of 1000 crowns, and, to resume the name of Roxana,
instead of Countess of Oxford.'
" Here is a good deal of confusion, to which further
confusion has been added by the annotators. Roxana
is a character in Lee's Rival Queens ; but the Rival
Queens was brought out at the King's Theatre, not
the Duke's ; and the actress seduced by the Earl of
Oxford belonged, Hamilton tells us, to the Duke's
Theatre. We are assured by the annotators, that the
actress thus seduced was Mrs. Marshall, who acted
Roxana in Lee's Rival Queens ; but Malone had
disposed of this belief in a note to one of Dryden's
Letters ; and it is very curious how Scott, who had
Malone's edition of Dryden pretty well by heart,
should have missed it when he was seeing his edition
of De Grammont through the press. After disposing
of Mrs. Marshall's claim, Malone makes a very near
guess when he names Mrs. Frances Davenport
nstead :
429
APPENDIX C
" * The person seduced probably was Mrs. Frances Davenport,
an eminent actress in the Duke of York's company, who was
celebrated for her performance of Roxolana in Davenant's
Siege of Rhodes, 1662, and in another Roxolana in Lord Orrery's
Mustapha in 1665. She acted in Dryden's Maiden Queen in
1668, but her name is not found in any of the plays performed
by the Duke of York's servants after they removed to Dorset
Gardens in 1671 ; and Downes, the prompter of that playhouse,
mentions it in his quaint language, that she was before that
time " by force of love crept from the stage."
" The editor of the last English edition l has had
some idea glimmering in his mind that Roxolana,
and not Roxana, was the lady seduced by the founder,
of the regiment, still distinguished from his colonelcy,
as the Oxford Blues. He inserts, without remark,
the following extract from Evelyn :
" c 9 Jan. 1 661-2. I saw the third part of the Siege of Rhodes.
In this acted y e faire and famous comedian, called Roxolana,
from y e part she performed ; and I think it was the last, she
being taken to be the Earl of Oxford's misse, as at that time they
began to call lewd women.' 2
" To this I must add that Pepys, as usual, comes in
to support the accuracy of his friend and fellow
memorialist :
" ' 18 Feb. 1661-2. To the Opera and saw 'The Law against
Lovers, a good play and well performed, especially the little
girls (whom I never saw act before) dancing and singing ; and
were it not for her, the loss of Roxolana would spoil the
house.
" ' 2 April, 1 662. To the Opera and there saw The Bondman
most excellently acted. . . . lanthe acting Cleron's part very
well now Roxolana is gone.
" ' 19 May, 1662. To the Opera, and there saw the second
part of the Siege of Rhodes, but it is not so well done as when
1 That of Bohn in 1846.
jjThe term was probably an abbreviation brought from the Low
Countries at the Restoration, from the Dutch meisje-van-fleizier.
G.D.G.
430
APPENDIX C
Roxolana was there, who, it is said, is now owned by my Lord of
Oxford.
" ' 27 Dec. 1662. With my wife to the Duke's Theatre, and
saw the second part of Rhodes done with the new Roxolana ;
which do it rather better in all respects for person, voice and
judgment, than the first Roxolana.'
" The new Roxolana " was Mrs. Betterton ; the old
Roxolana " Lord Oxford's misse," either Frances or
Elizabeth Davenport ; for there were two sisters of
that name on the stage of the Duke's Theatre at this
time. I suspect, however, that the old Roxolana was
the younger sister, Betty. The elder was on the stage
in 1668:
" * 7 April, 1 668. The eldest Davenport is, it seems, gone to
be kept by somebody, which I am glad of, she being a very bad
actor.' PEPYS.
" Now it appears from Lilly's Nativities in the
Ashmolean Museum, that the Earl of Oxford's son
by Roxolana was born iyth April, 1664, an( ^ Roxolana
herself 3rd March, 1642. Whenever a new edition of
De Grammont is again required (and a new one is very
much needed), I hope to see no more confusion in this
matter."
It will be seen from the foregoing that Mme.
d'Aulnoy was in error when she gave Ibrahim as
the play in which Lord Oxford's inamorata achieved
her ill-fated conquest. Ibrahim the Illustrious Bassa,
a tragedy in verse by Elkanah Settle, founded on
George Scudery's Ulllustre Bassa was not per-
formed until 1676 (at the Duke's Theatre), it was
printed the following year, and there are several
copies in the British Museum. The principal female
character was called Roxolana, and it is not surprising
that Mme. d'Aulnoy, a stranger, should be confused by
the similarity of the names if Evelyn as shown above
431
APPENDIX C
was. Roxolana in Settle's adaptation was "created "
by Mrs. Mary Lee.
Lord Oxford married Diana Kirk, the sister of Mary
Kirk, the " Emilie " of these Memoirs. Her reputation
was not unsullied nor did she succeed in bringing him
a son. It is a poetic justice that their only daughter
married the first Duke of St. Albans, the son of the
actress Nell Gwyn !
432
CHRONOLOGICAL BIBLIOGRAPHY
(B.N. signifies Bibliotheque Nationale, B.M. British Museum,
L.L. London Library)
Mtmoires de la Cour d'Angleterre
par Madame D . . .
Paris : C. Barbin
BN.
2 vols. 12
1695
Ditto
La Haye : Meyndert Wytwerf
B.N.
2 vols. in I
l6 9 S
2 COpS.
12
Ditto 2nd edition
B.M.
2 vols. in i
1695
2 COpS.
12
Ditto, ditto
L.L.
2 vols. in I
1695
12
Memoirs of the Court of England
by the Countess Dunnois
now made English by J.C.
London : B. Bragg, pp. 616
B.M.
2 vols. in i
1707
2 COpS.*
8
Ditto 2nd edition
B.M.
2 vols. in I
1708
2 COpS.
8
Mtmoires de la Cour d'Angleterre
par Madame D . . .
Paris : P. G. Le Mercier fils et Morin
B.N.
2 vols. in i
1726
I2 Q
Anecdote Secrette et Galante de la Cour
d'Angleterre
Amsterdam : L'Honore et Chastelain
B.N.
2 vols. in I
1727
(Meme ouvrage que le precedent)
12
One has MS. notes.
2E
433
INDEX
(b.n. fignifies biographical note)
A , Madam, 152
Airey Osmund, 354 n.
Anne of Austria, Regent of France,
liaison with Buckingham, 211-2,
362, 381, 384
Anne, Queen, b.n. 66, xiv, xxiii, 39,
66
Albemarle, Christopher, Duke of,
Elizabeth, Duchess of, 319 n.
Alcoforado Mariane, b.n. 209, 209-
10
Alvare, Don, arrives in England,
255-6 ; visits merchantman, 259-
6b. 253, 257, 258, 261, 262
Antwerp, 401, 402, 407, 409, 411
Argyle, Archibald Earl of, b.n. 174 ;
comes to London, ibid; visits
Tunbridge, 175 ; Buckingham's
envoy, 176-8; reproached by
him, 186-7; the fire, 188-9;
goes to Clievedon, 190-4 ; Dona
Maria, 195-226. 180
Arlington, Henry, Earl of, b.n. 166.
22, 93, 166, 386
Arlington, Isabella, Countess of,
93 n., 202 n.
Arundel, Henry, Earl of, 140 n.
Ashton, J., quoted, 9 .
Aulnoy, Jean Fra^ois, Baron d',
xi, xiii
Aulnoy, Marie Catherine, Baronne
d', biographical account, vii-
xiv ; her works, vii, xii, xiv,
xv. xviin.y xixn., xxiii n. t
5n., 7n., 10 n., 89 n., 130,
170n., 174 n., 243 n., 251 n.,
322 n., 323 n., 350. 411,
413, 431
Austria, Don John of, 401, 402 .,
418
Arran, James, Earl of, xxii, xxiii
Mary, Countess of, xxi, 68,
in, 137, 140 n.
Richard, Earl of, b.n. 10, xx,
xxi ; ducks his dog, 1 1 ; with
Miledy, 12-5 ; tablets of,
30-2, 38-9 ; in the gallery,
69-71 J at St. James's, 74 ;
Miledy's letter, 78-80; St.
Alban's call, 81-4; with
Emilie, 99-102 ; at Emilie's
window, 135-6; visits St.
Albans, 137-280; at the
ball, 288; dispute with
Miledy, 290-2 ; anger, 294 ;
discovers Filadelphe, 295 ;
altercation with Monmouth,
296 ; visits Buckingham,
299-310; jealousy, 314-6;
pleads his cause, 228-30 ;
435
INDEX
Arran, Richard, Earl of, recon-
jftciled to Miledy, 336-40. 9,
fa 66, 72, 88, 96, 120, 122, 124,
125, 287, 293, 312, 331, 333,
497
Arthur, Sir George, 366
BAILEY, Mr. A. R., xxv
Barnewell, Sir F., Bart., 379
Barillon, Paul de, 2, and n.
Barlow, John, 346, 358, 361, 362
family, 346, 349
Beerwaet or Beverweert, Mile, de,
202 and n.
Bental, 161
Berkeley, Sir Charles, 396, 397,
4*7
family, 335
Bibliography, 433
Birdcage Walk, 19
Black box, Tory myth, 369-73
Blagge, Margaret, see Filadelphe
Blanquefort, Marquis de, b.n. 46 ;
his lodging, 46-9, 50-61
" Blossac," Marquis de, ix, x, xi
Blue flag, 379
" Bourgueuse," Princesse de, charac-
ter in novel, 214-24
Bournonville, Ernestine, Duchesse
de, 168
Bridgewater, 352
Brigstocke, Mr. Llewellyn, 351
Bristol, 352
Bristol, the Marquess of, $xv
Digby, Earl of, 415, 416
Hervey family, Earls and Mar-
quesses of, I3O.
Broadley, Mr. A. M., authority
quoted, 389
Bruges, 415, 416, 417
Brussels, 167, 169, 407, 413, 415
Buccleuch, see Monmouth
436
Buckingham, George, 1st Duke of,
liaison with Anne of Austria,
21 1-2. 17 n., 42 n., 130 n.,
151 n., 230 n., 324
2nd Duke of, b.n. 17 ; unfortu-
nate contretemps, 17-21 ; in
the Park, 25-30; satirises
Monmouth, 28 n. ; with his
wife, 35 ; at Whitehall, 40-4 ;
Lady Norwich, 46-64 ; dis-
guised as sailor, 105-7 J ac ^~
ventures in 1648, 108-10 ;
disguised as Merry Andrew,
1 1 1-2 ; fascinates Ireton's
wife, 113-5; diverts the
King, 1 16-20 ; at St. Albans,
137-8; flouted by Lady
Norwich, 139-141 ; her
letters, 142-70; flirts with
Miledy, 154-8; leaves for
the Hague, 161 ; at Spanish
vice-regal court, 167 ; in
London, 171 ; advises with
Argyle, 174 ; arrives Tun-
bridge, 176 ; disguised as
sorcerer, 177 ; recognised by
sister, 178 ; quarrels with
Lady Norwich, 181 ; nearly
burnt alive, 189 ; leaves
Tunbridge, 190-6 ; Dona
Maria, 197 ; her portrait,
200; counsels for writing,
204 ; novel, 214 ; he returns
to London, 126-9 > infatua-
tion of George Porter, 230-
47 ; enormous income, 248 ;
river fete, 249 ; Don Alvare,
255 ; quarrels with Mendosa,
260 ; reconciled with Lady
Norwich, 261-5 5 his m i s ~
tresses, 266-8 ; receives
letter, 279 ; goes home, 280 ;
intervenes between Mon-
INDEX
mouth and Arran, 296 ;
visited by Arran, 299 ; ad-
vises him, 203-4 J reconciled
to Lady Norwich, 305-309 ;
promises his assistance, 310 ;
Blackfriars house, 308 n. ; on
the barge, 314-6 ; pleads for
Arran, 326-30 ; at Hampton
Court, 331-2. xv, xx, xxi,
xxii,l, 2, 45,354
Katherine, Duchess of, 42 n.
Mary, Duchess of, b.n. 17;
jealousy, 17-22 ; at the
King's, 26-7 ; with her
husband, 35 ; dogs him,
50-1 and 53-55 ; fete for
Dona Maria, 228-9, and
224-8. 308
Burghclere, the Lady, quoted,
42 n., 108 n., lion.
Busfield, Anne, 424
CADANAS, Don Alonso de, 401, 415,
417, 418
Callow, Rev. Dr., xxv
Cannon, R., quoted, 4
" Calisto " ; or the Chaste Nymph,
Crowne's Masque, xix, 8, 289
Cartcret family, 354
Marguerite de, 354. 370 n.,
377 n.
" Camille," character in novel,
214-24. 225, 253
Carey, Madame B., vii, xv, xx
Carte, Thomas, quoted, 378, 387, 390
Catherine, Queen, b.n. 254 ; strict
morality of, ibid. ; angry with
Dona Maria, 262 ; quits ball,
289 ; the Duchess of Newcastle,
324-5 ; illness, 338 ; belief in
legitimacy of Monmouth, 350.
xx, 31, 37, 39, 50, 145, 196, 256,
376, 418
Castlehaven, James, Earl of, 416,
b.n. ibid., 417, 418
Castlemaine, Roger, Earl of, 151
Chamberlayne, E., quoted, 5, 9, 256,
427
Chamilly, Marquis de, 209
" Chantillon," Duchesse de, xii
Chapman, Mr. Frederic, xxv
Charles I, King,8,2 1, 42, 108,110,114,
230,231,232,353,362,412,414
II, King, b.n. 21 ; judgment,
22-7 ; confides in his son,
41-6; visits Prince Rupert,
117-20 ; as an angler, 314-5 ;
judges miniatures, 320-32 ;
at Hampton Court, 331, 336,
337 ; relations with the
Queen, 338 ; the glorious
29th of May, 340; initial
acquaintance with Lucy
Walter, 349-53 ; intrigue
with Marguerite de Carteret,
354; persistent rumour of
marriage, 355 ; arrives in
Holland and quarrels with
York, 362-363 ; returns from
England, 380 ; sails for Scot-
land, 384; in Paris, 387;
Orange Princess, 390 ; allies
with Spain, 401 ; intrigue
with Catherine Peg, 413 ;
intrigue with Eleanor Need-
ham, 414 ; at Bruges, 415.
3, 4. 8. 13, 18, 19, 20, 39,
40, 48, 49, 50, 57, 62, 69, 82,
83, 90, 97, 104, 114, 155, 161,
172, 173, 174, 178, 187, 192,
211, 226, 230, 231, 232, 256,
265, 269, 270, 281, 286, 288,
289, 290, 293, 294, 305, 306,
311, 318, 326, 330
Louis, Elector Palatine, 382,
n. ibid., 287 n,
437
INDEX
Clarendon, Edward, Earl of, 352, n.
^.,358,388,396-9,415,416
his "History," "Life," and
" State Papers " quoted, 345,
355, 357. 363, 375, 3^3, 3%
386, 387
Henry, 2nd Earl, b.n. 57 ; his
lodging, 57, 61
Clarke, Dr. Stannier, 379, 389, 423
Cleveland, Barbara, Duchess of,
b.n. 151 ; relations with Bucking-
ham, 151-2. 22 n., 344, 388,
413 n., 418
Clievedon, 184, 190, 192, 196, 213,
221
Clifford, Thomas, Lord, 161, b.n.
ibid.
Cloche, James de la, alleged son of
Charles II, 354, 377
Cockpit, 1 8, n. ibid., 39 n.
Cologne, 370, 387, 389, 391, 392,
393, 400, 409
" Compliment," a, 9
Corneille, his play The Cid, 313, 314
Cosin, Dr. John, 370, 371, 375, 420
Courboyer, Marquis de, xiii
Craven, William, Lord, 381
Crofts, Katherine. See Miledy
William, Lord, xxiv, 422, 423
family, xxiii n.
Cunningham, Peter, quoted, xxiv,
18, 233, 289, 308, 314, 345, 428-
31
DAVID (Davis), Captain, b.n. 105,
105, 118
Davidson, Miss Lillias Campbell,
xxv, 256
Devonshire, William, 1st Duke of,
b.n. 243 ; adventure in Paris,
243 and n. ; lover of Olive
Porter, 244-5 ; fined thirty
thousand pounds, 426. xviii,2
438
Devonshire, William, 3rd Earl of,
b.n. 244 ; separates his son
and Olive Porter, ibid.
Disney, W., quoted, 358, 367,
419
Doran, Dr., quoted, 233. 352.
410
Dover, Lord, xxiii, 414
Downing, Sir George, 415 n.
Dryden, John, quoted, 367
Dumas, A., xiv
Dundee, James Graham, Viscount,
426
ELIZABETH, Queen, xiv, 176 ; Cousin
of Lucy Walter, 347; parallel
case to Monmouth, 378, 359
Ellis, Sir Henry, quoted, 365, 421
Mr. S. M. xxv, 17, 1 8
" Emilie," b.n. 8 ; on the barge,
8-15; keeps assignation, 66-9;
in mourning, ibid. ; returns home,
76-7 ; visited by Miledy,
92-97 ; ink-horn, 98-9 ; lies
about suicide, 100-2 ; snubbed
by Monmouth, 121-2 ; re-
proaches him, 1 24-6 ; his re-
venge, 127-8 ; gouvernante, 129 ;
embarrassing situation, 132-4;
Arran's discovery, 135-6; at the
ball, 288 ; reconciled to Mon-
mouth, 291-3. xvi, xviii, 20, 21,
31, 32, 36, 37, 38, 39, 65, 78, 79,
80, 82, 83, 84, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90,
91, 103, 116, 120, 265, 267, 282,
284, 285, 294, 295, 300, 301, 302,
303, 326, 331, 334, 339, 432
Esther, maid to Lady Norwich,
advises mistress, 33-4 ; describes
latter's escape, 56-60. 61, 106,
107, 159, 178, 305, 307
Estrees, Gabrielle d', Duchesse de
Beaufort, b.n. 138, 138, 414
INDEX
Evelyn, J., quoted, 75, 309, 345,
34 6 > 383, 394> 4H
FAIRFAX, Lord, 17
Fanshawe, Mr. C. H., xxv, quoted,
421
family, 420 n.
W., husband of Mary, daughter
of Charles II, 420
Fea, Mr. Allan, quoted, xxiv, 345,
34 6 > 3Si, 359. 365, 369, 37> 374'
376, 385, 392, 4io ? 424
" Feismouth," the Countess of,
35-7. 6 -3- W, 228
Felton, Lady Betty, b.n. 130 ; visits
St. James's, 131 ; sups with
the maids, 132 ; recognises
Monmouth, 134; saves his
life, 136-7; visited by him,
282-4 ; at the ball, 288 ; at
Hampton Court, 331; quarrel
with Monmouth, 338-40.
130, 334
Sir Thomas, 130 n.
Fenton's Pembrokeshire, 341, 349
Fergusson, Robert, quoted, 344,
37*-4> 376, 424
Ferguson, James, quoted, 366, 368,
37 I 374-
" Filadelphe," b.n. 75 ; in love with
Monmouth, 75 ; in disgrace, 76 ;
intervenes between militant
ladies, 93 ; love-letter, 94-7 ;
betrayed by Miledy, 120 ; courted
by Monmouth, 122-3 J faints,
126 ; the kiss, 127 ; the duenna,
129; supper, 132-3; aidsJMon-
mouth's escape, 134-6; her
despair, 295-7 ; dismisses her
lover, 298, 302, 303. 124, 125,
282-5, 288, 322, 338, 339
Fingal, Margaret Countess of,
b.n. 59 ; her lodging, 47, 50, 59
Firth, Mr. C. H., xxv
Fitzherbert, Maria, her marriage
with George IV, a parallel
case with that of Lucy
Walter, 370
her children, 413
Foster-brother, relation of Charles
II to children of 1st Duke of
Buckingham, 42, 119, 232
Foster, Mr. J. J., quoted, 365
Fox, C. J., 343, 373
George, and the pronoun
"you," 56 ji.
Somerset, 381
Fraiser, Sir Alexander, b.n. 173, 173,
245, 246, 247
Frazer, Sir William, quoted, 379, 420
Frowd, Miss Rose, xxv
GADBURY, J., astrologer, 173, b.n.
ibid.
" Gentlemen " officials in large
establishments, 258
George IV, King, his son and
daughter by Mrs. Fitzherbert, 41 3
Gerard, Sir Gilbert, 370-3
Gerrard, 4th Lord, 381
Gerolstein, Grande Duchesse de
opera, xiv
Ghysen Claes, 410
Gibbons roundhead soldier, 108
Gilbert, Lady, xxv
Gloucester, Henry, Duke of, 413,
418,421,423
Goffe or Gough, Dr. Stephen, 421,
422,423
Goloshes, early use of, 72
Gosfritt, 358, 367, 385
Grafton, Henry, Duke of, 22, b.n.
ibid. 23, 376 n.
Grant, Mr. F. G., xxv
Green, Mrs. Everett, quoted, 375,
380, 389
INDEX
Grey, Ford, Lord, b.n. 281 ; visited
by Monmouth, 281-2 ; his mis-
sion to St. James's, 284-6 ; his
morality, 334 ; intrigue with his
sister-in-law, 335 and n. 129,
134, 360, 373
Grimbergue, Marie Comtesse de,
b.n. 1 68 ; fascinates Buckingham,
168-9. 173 > 175 > 26 5
Guadagne, Marquise de, previously
Madame de Berneville, vii, x, xi,
xiii, xv.
Gwyn, Eleanor, b.n. 289 ; dances at
Court, ibid. ; plans fishing, 314-6 ;
anecdote of the Newcastles, 328.
294, 302, 326, 330, 331, 344, 432
HAGUE, 64, 161, 164, 165, 356, 362,
363, 380, 383, 388, 391, 392, 395,
401, 407, 415
Hamilton, A., quoted, xvi, xvii, xix,
71,203,397,429
Mr. S. G., xxv
Sir William and Lady (Emma),
346 n.
Hampton Court, xxiii, 12, 230 n.,
311, 317, 323, 331, 336, 338
Hanover, Sophia, Duchess of, 380-1
Harvey, John, 402, 410, 41 1
Hastings, Miss E. J., xxv
Haverfordwest, 346, 348, 349 n.,
35, 351
Henri IV, King of France and
Navarre, b.n. 138, 138, 414
Henrietta Maria, Queen, b.n. 233,
xxiii, 21 n., 81 n., 233-4, n. ibid.,
354, n. ibid., 355, 362, 363, 365,
366, 368, 370, 374, 375, 378, 383,
384, 385, 386, 387, 390, 410, 420,
421, 422, 423
Hervey, Rev. S. H. A., xxv
authority quoted, xxiv, 130,
361, 422
440
Hill, Anne, 404, n. ibid., 405, 407,
n. ibid., 408
Holland, Gazettes of, xir
Holland, Henry, Earl of, b.n. 108,
108-1 I
Howard, Queen Catherine, 347, 348
Howard, Thomas, " Northern Tom
Howard," brother of the
Earl of Carlisle, b.n. 234;
betrothed to Duchess of
Richmond, 234-6 ; marriage
postponed, 241-2. 238, 245,
246
Thomas, brother of the Earl of
Suffolk, 393, 402-8, 415, 416
Hughes, Margaret, mistress of Prince
Rupert, H9.
Hutchinson, the Rev. E. G., xxv
IRETON, Bridget, b.n. 113 ; infatua-
tion for Buckingham, 113-4
JACKSON, Mr. T. W., xxv
Jal, A., quoted, vii, xii, xv
James I, King, 17, 105
Jane, saints so named, 145
Jesse, G. H., quoted, 319, 497
Johnson, Dr., quoted, 379
Juan, Don, 280
Jusserand, J. J., quoted,xxiii,203,3o6
KEN NET, White, 378, 424
Kirke, Diana, 109, 432
family, 8
Mary, see Emilie
Knee, royalty served on, 319,379,403
L-AAMOizfeRE, Seigneur de, xiii
Lambeth Palace Library, 394
Lane, Jane, 389, 394
Lane, Mr. John, xviii, xxiv
Lang, Mr. Andrew, xxv, 354
Laurence, W., quoted, 376-8
INDEX
Leach family, 349
Lennox, Esme, Duke of, 140
Lescure, M., xii, xiii
Liege, 357, 358, 359
Lingard, 400
Long, Jane, 233 b.n., 233, 234, 235,
236, 240, 242
Loo Het, 426
Lorraine, Charles III, Duke of, in,
i6 7
Louis XIV, King of France, 244,
b.n. ibid., ix, 5 n., 415
Love-letters of a Portuguese nun,
211
Lucan, the Earls of, 421
MACPHERSON quoted, 343, 345, 349,
356, 357> 359> 362, 365, 37, 383,
386, 394, 420, 423, 424
Maestricht, storming of, 3
Maine, due de, 5 n.
Man in the Iron Mask, 383
Marlborough, Henrietta, Duchess
of, 75
John, Duke of, 3-4 n.
Sarah, Duchess of, xiv
Married men, gallantry of, per-
mitted in the peninsula, 251 and n.
Mary, daughter of Charles 1, 286 n.,
365, 387, 388, 391, 392, 393,
397, 413, 414
daughter of Charles II, 306,
413, 420 n.
daughter of James, Duke of
York, b.n. 66, 76, 126, 396
Matamore, legendary character, 280
and n.
Mazarin, Cardinal, 21 1, 348, 415
Hortense, Duchesse de, 2, b.n.
ibid.
Mendosa, Dona Maria, Buckingham
commissions her portrait, 200 ;
gifted woman, 202 ; Counsels for
good writing, 204-8 ; Novel, 213-
24 ; meets Buckingham, 227-8 ;
river fete in her honour, 249-50 ;
accepts Buckingham's addresses,
251-3 ; rated by the Queen, 254 ;
Don Alvare arrives, 255 ; Buck-
ingham displeases her, 257-8 ;
visits merchantman, 259-61 ; dis-
graced 262-3. xix, xx, 196, 197,
198, 199, 209, 210, 211, 225, 226,
264
Mennes, Sir J., 415 and n.
Middleton family, 353
Miledy . . . ; on the barge, 10-16 ;
at home, 35-9 ; in the gallery,
69-70 ; encounters duenna, 71-
3 ; warns Arran, 77-9 ; visited
by Monmouth, 86-90 ; visits
Emilie, 91-7 ; assaults her, 98-9 ;
in the Park, 102-3 ; w ^ tn Mon-
mouth, 1 20-1 ; at the ball,
288-8 ; reproaches Arran, 290-2 ;
flirts with Neuburg, 312-6 ; con-
versation with Buckingham, 326-
30; at Hampton Court, 331-4;
reconciled to Arran, 336-8. xxi-
xxiv, 68, 74, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85,
122, 124, 154, 156, 157, 266, 294,
300, 301, 302, 303, 321, 340
Mitchell, Miss A. E., xxv
Monmouth and Buccleuch, Anna,
Duchess of, b.n. 7 ; child
marriage, 7-8 ; lameness, 7 ;
in the Park, 20-1 ; at the
King's, 22-7. 10, 125, 424
and Buccleuch, James, Duke of,
b.n. 3 ; heroism, 3 ; dancing,
4-5 ; honours, 6 ; marriage,
7 ; flirts with Emilie, 8-16 ;
relations with his wife, 20-6 ;
Lady Norwich, 27-32 ; visits
Miledy . . ., 37-8 ; at the
King's, 39-49; conflicting
441
INDEX
Monmouth and Buccleuch, James,
Duke of (cont.)
emotions, 65 ; meets Emilie,
66-9 ; with Miledy . . .,
72-3 ; visits her, 86-90 ;
visits her again, 103 ; visits
Prince Rupert, 104 ; escapes
carriage accident, ibid. ; in-
dignation with Emilie, 116;
returns to Miledy . . ., 120 ;
Filadelphe, 121 ; Emilie and
Filadelphe, 122-8 ; awkward
predicament, 129; escape,
132-7; visits Lord Grey,
281 ; visits Lady Betty,
282-4 ; prospects, 284-6 ;
reconciled with Emilie, 292-
3 ; altercation with Arran,
296 ; dismissed by Fila-
delphe, 297-8 ; recounts
story of the Newcastles,
318-20 ; rallies Grey, 334-6 ;
quarrels with Lady Betty,
338-40 ; his birth, 364 ;
ward of Henrietta Maria,
384 ; in the Tower, 404-9 ;
attempt to kidnap him, 410 ;
taken from his mother, 419 ;
brought up as a prince, 375
and 422 ; early question of
legitimacy, 424. 2, 33, 38,
64, 75, 76, 77, 82, 83, 84, 85,
91, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99,
101, 117, 118, 119, 193, 195,
196, 197, 198, 201, 202, 208,
210, 213, 227, 228, 252, 253,
264, 265, 279, 288, 291, 294,
299, 300, 301, 302, 303, 308,
312, 331, 343, 345, 348, 350,
357, 365, 366, 367, 369, 370,
371, 372, 373, 374, 375, 376,
378, 379, 382, 383, 384, 386,
388, 390, 394, 397, 400, 414,
415, 416, 417, 418, 420, 421,
423, 425
Montague, the Duke of, 319
Monteray, Comte de, 164 n. ibid.
Mottet Egidio (Giles), 417, 418
Mozart, Wolfgang, his operas, xvi,
xvii
NEEDHAM, Eleanor, Lady Byron,
414
Eleanor, daughter of Sir Robert,
-, 4H
Nelson, Horatio, 1st Viscount, 346
OLDMIXON quoted, 4 n.
O'Neile, D., 394, 395, 396, 418
Opdam, J., 1 66, b.n. ibid.
Orleans, Henrietta, Duchess of, 425
Ormonde, James, Duke of, b.n. 146 ;
admirer of Lady Norwich,
145-8 ; repulsed by her,
165-6 ; as factor in career of
Lucy Walter, 394, 402, 417.
xxi, 13 n., 50 n., 93 n., 230 n.,
243 n.
the Marquess of, xxv
Orange, Amelia, Princess Dowager,
389-90
William II, Prince of, 359, 361,
363, 384
William III, Prince of, 66 n.,
161, 344, 384
Ossory, Amelia, Countess of, b.n. 93;
visits Duchess of York, 93 ; arbi-
trates between Miledy . . . and
Mrs. Wise, 94 ; her severe virtue,
209. 202
Oxford, Aubrey, Earl of, b.n. 269 ;
falls in love, 269-271 ; flouts idea
of marriage, 272 ; plans abduc-
tion, 273-4; mock marriage,
275-7 ; his son, 278. 228, 267,
285
INDEX
PANFILIA (Panfilio), character in
novel, 214-24
Park, St. James's, 16, 19, 20, 22, 25,
26, 27, 33, 41, 57, 91, 99, 192, 272,
290
Peg, Catherine, mistress of Charles
II, 345, 4 J 3
Pembrokeshire, 34, 40, 344, 346,
348, 349, 400
Pepys quoted, 7, 72, 313, 325, 386,
424, 430
Peterborough, Henry, Earl of, 108,
b.n. ibid., 109
Plymouth, Charles, Earl of, 413
Pope, Alexander, xix
Porter family, 230
George, b.n., 230 ; goes to
shoot " Papillon" 231 ;
amour with Jane Long, 233 ;
marriage, 234 ; meets the
duchess, 237 ; would kill
Howard, 242 ; Olive, 243 ;
at Dr. Fraiser's, 245 ; deli-
cate situation, 246-8
Olive, 243-4
Portland, the Duke of, xxv
Portsmouth, Louise, Duchess of,
3i5 -, 344
Posting up confidential letters, 139,
149
Poyser, Mr. Arthur, 404
Prideaux, Lieut.-Col., xii, xxv, 215
QUEEN of Hungry Water, 128 n.
Quixote, Don, 280
RACHE, Madame de, 168
Ranke, Leopold von, quoted, 355,
375
Rhosmarket, 346, 349, 350
Richmond, Frances, Duchess of,
*33> 344
Richmond, James, Duke of, I, ill,
140, 232
Mary, Duchess of, b.n. in ;
prisoner, 111-2; at Tun-
bridge, 178-81 ; go-between
brother and Lady Norwich,
146-8 ; child widow, 230 ;
Papillon, 232 ; marries ard
goes to France, 233 ; be-
trothed to Howard, 235 ;
meets Porter, 238 ; at Dr.
Fraiser's, 245-8 ; anecdote
of the Newcastles, 324-5.
xx, xxi, 1, 228, 326, 330
Ritchie, Lady, vii
Roberts, G., quoted, 345, 355, 357,
410
Roche (Roach) Castle, 346, 347, 349
Rochester, Henrietta, Countess of,
b.n. i, 165, 169, 183, 227, 228
John, Earl of, 345, 383, 402
Laurence, Earl of, I, b.n. ibid.
Ronquillo, Don Pedro, 2, b.n. ibid.
Ross, Thomas, 419-423
Rotterdam, 3, 381, 410
Roxaline ; her relations with Lord
Oxford, 269-78, appendix C.
Ruivigny and Raneval, Marquis de,
xxv
Rupert, Prince, b.n. 105 ; visited by
Monmouth, 104-7 ; his residence,
104 n. ; succeeds Prince of Wales
in his command, 1 14 n. and 380,
115, 117; visited by the King,
118-20. 230 n.
Russell, William, Lord, b.n. 47 ;
urges suit, ibid. ; discovers Buck-
ingham with his mistress, 54 ;
interview with prince, 63-4;
goes to Holland, 164. 46, 67, 60,
106-7, 171, 183, 205, 308
S.-T. quoted, 366, 367, 382
443
INDEX
Saint Albans, Henry Earl of, b.n.
8 1 ; visit to Arran, 81-4, and
90-1 ; in the Park, 102-3 > Wlt ^
Prince Rupert, 104-7 J relates
anecdote of Buckingham, 108-14 ;
as a philosopher, 115-7 ; at home
to Buckingham and Arran, 187-
229 ; relates infatuation of George
Porter, 230-48 ; relates infatua-
tion of Lord Oxford, 269-78 ; at
Hampton Court, 331-2. xxi-
iv, 2, 87, 88, 90, 120, 281, 299,
304, 497
Saint Albe, Marquis de, xii
Saint Evremond, Charles de, 2, b.n*
ibid., xxii, xxiii
Saint James's Palace, 16, 197*., 74,
100, 121, 130
Saint Swithin's Day, 3, 409
Samborne or Sandborn, 385
Sarsfield, William, husband of Mary,
daughter of Charles II, 420
Scarron, Paul, 280
Scott, Miss Eva, quoted, 355, 363,
400, 419
Sir Walter, 379
Seccombe, Mr. T., 385-6
Sexby, E., 401
Shepperd, Rev. Canon, xxv
authority quoted, xxiv, 142
Sheridan, R. B. B., xiv
Shrewsbury, Anna, Countess of,
b.n. 144, xviii, 144, 145, 156, 195,
.234.332-7
Sidney, Algernon, 356, n. ibid., 360,
361, 362
family, 359-362
Henry, " le beau," 356, 360,
36i, 39 6
Robert, 356, n. ibid., 357, 359,
360, 361, 362, n. ibid., 396,
43
Silva, Pedro de, xx
444
Sion Hill, 228, 248, 249, 250
Slingsby, Arthur, 416-8
Strachan, Mr. L. R. M., xxv
Strickland, the Misses, quoted, 9,
81, 91, 230, 347, 348, 355, 384,
389, 397
Steen, Marie van der, mistress of
James, Duke of York, 396
Steinman, G. S., quoted, 345, 346,
347, 351, 410-1, 417, 421, 423
Stuart, J. F. Smyth, 370, 375
Sunderland, Dorothy, Countess of,
360, 361, 398
Earl of, 360
TENISON, Archbishop, 361
Thun, Count, 2
Timmins, Mr. H. Thornhill, 394
Toulouse, Comte de, 5 n.
Townsend, Mrs. xxv
Tunbridge Wells, xx, 60, 173, 174,
192, 194, 264
UTRECHT, 161
VAUDEMONT, Princesse de, b.n. 167
167-8
Vernon family, b.n. 130, and 151
Vic, Sir H. de, 370, n. ibid.
Villiers, Lord Francis, b.n. 108 ; his
death, 108-9, 42 n.
family, 130, 151
WALTER, David, 425
Justus, 348, 400, 404, 405, 407
family, 346-9
* Lucy, xvi, xxiv, 4, 5 ; mystery
surrounding her career, 343-
5 ; genealogy and royal
descent, 346-8 ; first meeting
with Prince of Wales, 349-
54; goes abroad, 353-9;
Sidney kinsfolk, 360-2 ; son
born, 364 ; various traditions
INDEX
of continental marriage, 365-
79 ; daughter born, 385 ;
friendship with Princess
Royal, 392; latter's in-
trigues, 393 ; estranged from
King summons brother, 400 ;
in London, 403-9 ; cruel
persecutions, 410-8 ; death,
4 2 3-5
Walter, William, 425
Warming Pan, ridiculous myth, 396
Wemyss, the Countess of, 7, 373
Wentworth, Henrietta Maria, Lady,
xvi, 370
"Wharton," Grace and Philip,
quoted, 1 12
Whitehall, xvi, xviii, 1 6, 1 8, 19, 20,
46, 58, ill, 139, 199, 226, 239,
247, 259, 314
Williams, H. Noel, Mr., quoted, 74
Willcock, Dr., xxv, 174
Wilkins, W. H., 379
quoted, 202, 381
Windsor, 112
Wise, Lucy, b.n. 9 ; her virtue 9
and 66; attacks Miledy . . .,
71-2 ; reprimands Emilie, 74-6 ;
second encounter with Miledy,
92-4 ; inopportune return of,
129-30 ; friendship with Lady
Betty, 131-2. 85, 89, 290
Wood's Fasti quoted, 341, 343,
382, 385
Wyndham family, 352-3
YORK, Anne, Duchess of, I, b.n.
ibid. ; parallel case with that
of Lucy Walter, 396-9. xix, 1
James, Duke of, 66 ., 356, 357,
363, 372, 420
Mary Beatrice, Duchess of,
b.n. 9 ; river trip, 8-10 ;
enciente, 15 ; miscarries, 74 ;
better, 121. 35, 91, 93, 286,
397
445
TO MY KING EVER FAITHFUL
THE LOVE STORY OF MRS. FITZHERBERT
1782-1837
bound in purple cloth gilt demi 8vo illustrated by twelve old prints never
before reproduced.
Globe : Mr. Gilbert has fallen in love with the memory of Mrs.
Fitzherbert, and to the business of her justification he brings all the
enthusiasm and the partisanship of youth. He has done his work well,
because he has done it con amore. He has set himself to live the lives
of his characters, and especially of the heroine. His point of view is
essentially romantic and he has given us an exceedingly interesting book.
The central figure is Mrs. Fitzherbert herself. Mr. Gilbert has an artist's
right to depict his heroine as he chooses, and he has chosen to depict her
as a very perfect specimen of womanhood, a sort of modern Desdemona.
The author's grasp of his conception is exceedingly firm, and though the
lady's innermost emotions are handled with delicate reticence, the effect
is clear, and the reader's sympathy is retained throughout. With
George IV. Mr. Gilbert is less successful. He bids us regard him too
much with Mrs. Fitzherbert's own eyes, with the result that he is so
splendid in his youth that his subsequent falling away is almost incredible.
The treatment of the elderly roue in the latter part of the book is much
more successful, and the author's imagination serves him very happily
in the little touches where he describes his futile attempts to conciliate
Caroline to whom Mr. Gilbert does something less than justice. But
if he is hard on that unhappy Princess, he is positively cruel to George III.
and Queen Charlotte, though his cruelty is of excellent dramatic effect.
The minor characters the Dukes of York and Clarence, Mrs. Jordan,
and the rest are neatly sketched, with proper individuality and not a
little idealisation. The story is admirably told, with touches of real
dramatic power. The account of Mrs. Fitzherbert's last interview
with the querulous and gouty old King is one of the best bits of writing
we have come across for some time. The book is a work of art.
Taller : A vivid description of the famous love story of Mrs. Fitz-
herbert and George IV. written by that well-known authority on the
subject, Mr. George David Gilbert. Few royal romances of recent
447
APPENDIX
times have attracted a greater amount of public interest than the one
in question, and few certainly are more surrounded with contradictions
and mystery. Nevertheless, Mr. Gilbert has pictured from the mass of
evidence at his disposal a wonderfully interesting and pathetic narrative,
and one which is sure to find innumerable readers. A few years ago
this same author published under the title of In the Shadow of the Purple,
a romance dealing with the life of the same unfortunate lady. The
present volume, however, is a more elaborate and scholarly achievement
and one which sets all facts of the case which are at present known in a
most fascinating and interesting guise deserving of being read.
Court Journal: There is no better way of teaching history to the
ordinary than that of the romantic novel. Harrison Ainsworth showed
that long ago, and there are many who know no more of the Tower of
London or of Windsor Castle than he has taught them who can yet
discourse eloquently on both buildings. Mr. George David Gilbert
gives us To My King Ever Faithful. A series of pictures like a modern
pageant full of interest and very readable it will teach something of the
history of the period to most readers. Mr. Gilbert has clearly read much
and his picture of the Prince of Wales (George IV.) if a little flattering
cannot be regarded as otherwise than admirable. He puts the man
before us living and as he lived. He tells the story of a woman's love
and a prince's passion well, often vividly, and he always writes with
sympathy. He also writes very plainly, sometimes even calling a spade a
spade.
Daily Telegraph : Mr. Gilbert not only sets his heroine in an attractive
manner but he also comes forth as a warm apologist for her Royal
Consort. We are in his pages taken back to the days when people
divided their allegiance between the dimmed splendour of Windsor and
the ostentatious rivalry of Carlton House ... it is an ingenious piece
of work.
Daily Mail : Mr. Gilbert writes with an artist's appreciation of the
effects that can be gained by restraint.
Madame : The story is very clearly and cleverly told and should win
a very large audience.
Freeman's Journal: Mr. Gilbert has produced a work of unique
interest illustrated by plates from photographs of old prints. This is
not a " historical novel " of the ordinary sort. . . , The imaginative
artist and the historian combine in the execution of a narrative of rare
human interest.
448
APPENDIX
From Memoirs of the Court of England, 286.
" ' Then I declare,' cried Monsieur le Due (de Monmouth)
interrupting him, ' if it is true that to really know love one must
be seriously engaged all that I have hitherto known is a counterfeit.'
" * I plainly see it,' acquiesced the milord, * your hour has yet to
dawn. Some day you will confess to me perhaps more than you
would now desire.'
" With which prophecy (which time has sufficiently verified
though of this I have no right to speak) he went out."
Readers whose curiosity is aroused by these sentences should order
from the libraries the following work :
THE BATON SINISTER
(A STUDY OF A TEMPERAMENT AND A TIME)
1674-1686
The Morning Post: Excellent. Mr. Gilbert is a master of detail.
He paints a picture of the Court of King Charles II. in which the
characters live and move in the quaint style and in the very free manners
of the time ; yet there is nothing to leave a bad taste in the mouth.
The book has considerable literary merit.
Mr. Punch : A simple tale of woman's love and man's passion. Well
told and well written.
Pall Mall Gazette : An excellent romance. A thoughtful and sound
piece of writing. . . . Apart from all other interest, this story of
Monmouth and Lady Wentworth his " Sweet Henriette " is fitted with
a pathetic charm ; but the author has gone further. It is not often
that an author takes such undoubted pains to verify his facts while in
no way weakening the power of his narrative or lessening its beauty
as an artistic whole . . . indeed a very living book from whose pages
the dead seem to speak to us asking a gentler judgment.
Bookman: Henrietta Wentworth is a fine example of passionate,
single-hearted faithfulness and loyalty. The portrait of Monmouth
is drawn with strength and sympathy, the story of his love and pre-
tensions is marked by genuine historical knowledge and real feeling, the
whole forms a stirring and unaffected romance.
The Literary World : Mr. George Gilbert has given us pleasure with
both hands. The Sdton Sinister deals with the events leading up to the
campaign undertaken by the Duke of Monmouth in defence of what
he thought to be his rights, though more stress is laid upon his
love for Henrietta Wentworth than upon his prowess in the
field. When first she went to London, then to charm the Court,
this country-rose managed, but not at all easily, to resist the many graces
2F 449
APPENDIX
of the Duke. A few years later the case was different. The siege was
renewed ; the fortress (there never was a sweeter) fell. In our opinion
the most charming pages of a novel that is unusually rich in charm are
those in which Mr. Gilbert has described with not a little poetic detail,
the happy life led by the Duke and Henrietta in the heart of the country.
For a time they lived in paradise. It was a political snake that for them
ruined the paradise. Everybody knows what was the end of Monmouth's
story. That conclusion as described by Mr. Gilbert, makes very
sorrowful reading. . . . We most cordially hope that what we have said
will persuade our readers to give themselves up to the attractions offered
them by Mr. Gilbert, who has produced a novel that ought to make for
him friends both numerous and enthusiastic. Of late years there has
been no book so nicely balanced between the facts of history and the
graces of romance ; the story glows with colour.
Publishers' Circular: The picture of the Duke of Monmouth is
singularly vivid and arresting ; it is one that lives in the memory with
a certain wistfulness and an indescribable air of sadness which gives it
charm and makes it a memorable piece of work. Indeed this " Study
of a Temperament and a Time " is altogether remarkable ; it rises
to heights not often reached by the historical novelists of the day, and
on every page is evinced the careful work of a true artist.
To-day : Another book of a different sort which has struck us with
its strange merit is the Bdton Sinister. It is an unique historical novel
showing not merely wide and extraordinarily careful historical research
but artistic skill of no mean order. It is the story of the Duke of Mon-
mouth the son of Charles the Second. Much attention has been given
of late years to this " Protestant Duke " but I think it fair to say that no
one has presented him to the twentieth century mind with such masterly
skill as Mr. George Gilbert. Perhaps there is no more beautiful story
in English history than the love story of Monmouth and Lady Henrietta
Wentworth, and much of the charm of this remarkable book lies in the
fact that the author tells the story in the person of Lady Henrietta
herself. He has described the character and nature with a skill and
sympathetic appreciation entirely admirable. On the scaffold . . .
Monmouth at the great and supreme moment of his life had no thoughts
but for her who was his mistress in the eyes of man but his wife in the eyes
of God. ... It is this sweet woman who loved and was beloved who
tells the story. . . . The Bdton Sinister is a book for which I predict
a large demand for it has all the elements that go to make up a great
historical romance.
Gentlewoman : Extraordinarily vivid and moving. He possesses real
power, his Lady Wentworth is a true and stately figure and his hero
combines the charming traits of the Stuarts with real humanity and
tenderness.
450
APPENDIX
The Ladies 1 Field : Mr. Gilbert has written a novel which should give
him a very high place among contemporary writers. The care he has
bestowed upon the writing and Ijis conscientious study of the time are
evident in every chapter. . . . Lady Henrietta Wentworth is a very
bewitching personality. The characters of Charles II. and the Duke of
York are presented with dignity and restraint.
Madame : Mr. Gilbert sets forth a delightful and pathetic story of
the unfortunate young scion of Royalty. The book is full of the deepest
feeling . . . (it) represents the story of the life and happenings of
Henrietta Wentworth as told by herself and never for one moment does
the retailing of her misery and short lived happiness flag . , . to all
lovers of romance and history the book will be a treat indeecj, for from
start to finish it teems with a pathos and human interest seldom met
with.
The Glasgow Herald : Alike as a story and a historical study it must be
pronounced an intensely interesting piece of work.
Dublin Irish Times : His fine story. The life-like presentation of the
hero's personality.
Liverpool Mercury : A historical romance of the best kind ; realistic
yet full of imagination and poetry. The picture of the dissolute Court,
graphic in the extreme, and the glimpse of the neglected but faithful and
high-minded Queen Catherine of Bragan9a is altogether delightful.
The love story is pathetic and beautiful ; indeed it is not too much to say
that no master of historical fiction however great would need to be
ashamed to have written this romance.
Liverpool Courier: A capitally written story. A better or more
interesting historical novel could not be well imagined.
Newcastle Chronicle : Mr. Gilbert has read widely and has an intimate
understanding of the period with which he deals.
Birmingham Gazette: He makes of Monmouth a pathetically pic-
turesque figure and of his unhappy story a very charming and enter-
taining romance in which he sheds new light upon the character and
claims of the unfortunate Duke.
Dundee Advertiser: Some of the descriptions of scenes of Court
life are in the nature of a cinematograph exhibition, so vivid are they.
A843
1913
Aulnoy, Marie Catherine
Juxnelle de Berneville,
comtesse d 1
Memoirs of the court o
England in 1675
PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET
UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY
