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MEMOIRS
OF
COUNT GRAMMONT,
BY
COUNT A. HAMILTON.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH,
WITH
Motes any Illustrations,
SECOND EDITION, REVISED.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
09.5 che be 36
18. Earl of Chesterfield...... Mh aia ee 4 S6
Re PERE OLY OF ies oe cosce cub ees Re 0 OS
20. Lady Southesk......... Ry Ls)
21. Lady Robarts.........- a ae 112
. Miss Brooks, afterwards Lady Whit- |
DIGKE SES Volvos wins re
. Sir John Denham..... cho, PR et hal EY
Lady Denham, .... -.< os 47a
. Miss ge ape sD Kirk. . 209
. Miss Price. 20, tables via v 00 wie gs eee
VOLUME III.
, Miss Bagot. -:...00 is to face the Title.
MissTemolas ptatetlia ee
. Sir Charles Lyttelton’.233 .viamweee ane
. Miss Jennings....... oo ee aibeats, ates
. Dutchess of Cleveland See Me
. Lord Rochester...... SULT Sey.
. Summer: Hull... i civas cae wee eee ee ee
. Prince Rupert... ..0.5 0 scssumeens fue
. Mrs..Hughes. «6. 0% be ea Oe
. Tom Rilieree” Pea Ps ice sf
. Countess of Shrowsbagie Poteet ey ae
. Nell Geshe diet eae bxowdapi
. Mrs. Davis.isseeu o ia: pW eke ete eae eee
. Miss Stewart); 4...0. eee nein o alate EP
Of the Publishers of this Work may still be had a
few Copies of the last Quarto Edition of
MEMOIRES DU COMTE DE GRAMMONT,
Par le C, ANTOINE HAMILTON.
Edition Orneé de LX XIX Portraits, gravés d'apres
les Tableaux Originaux. Price 4/, 4s, in boards.
ADVERTISEMENT
a TO
THE QUARTO EDITION,
Turse Memoirs, in which, as it has
been truly said, ‘ with an easy and
exquisite pencil, the author ‘ has
painted the chief characters of the
Court of Charles the Second, as they
were -with great truth and spirit de-
scribed to him, by Count Grammont,’
have long been the object of admira-
tion, by those who were enabled to
read them in their original language.
By some strange fatality, it has hap-
pened that the English reader has
been deprived of the pleasure he might
vi ADVERTISEMENT TO
have received from the work, owing
to the inelegance and inaccuracy of
the only two translations which have
hitherto appeared ; translations, if they
may be so called, which, besides other
faults, are deformed with every species
of offence against grammar, and in
many places, even against common
sense. | PRLES: #
The Author, Count Anthony Ha-
milton, was of the same family, which
makes so distinguished a figure in the
present Memoirs. He was born in
Ireland, but passed the greater part of
his life in France. On the accession
of James II. he obtained, though a
Papist, a regiment of Infantry in Ire-
land, and was made governor of
Limerick. At the revolution he ad-
~ hered to the fortune of his dethroned
Sovereign, and followed him to France,
where he became a Lieutenant Gene-
THE QUARTO EDITION. vii
val, and died at St. Germains, the 21st
of April, 1720, aged seventy-four years,
deservedly regretted by all who knew
him. Though naturally serious, he
had at times.a disposition to gaiety, |
and in his less severe moments, did not
lose sight of decency and morality.
Voltaire praises his writings, which
he says ‘ have all the humour without
‘the burlesque of Scarron.’ By a let-
ter from him to Mr. Pope, printed in
that gentleman’s works, we learn that
our author had translated THE Art oF
Criticism into French. It does not
however appear to have been pub-
lished.
On the present republication, the
undertakers of it presume they may,
without impropriety, remark, that the
translation is entirely new, and, as
they hope, freed from the blemishes
of the two former. Some notes and
Vili ADVERTISEMENT.
illustrations are added by another
hand. In selecting the portraits,
which embellish this work, they have
had such assistance from many fami-
lies, as they cannot but gratefully
remember and acknowledge. ‘The
typography, they presume, will do
no discredit to the English press. In
. every thing which concerns the work,
they have spared no expense, and
trust with confidence to the aegis
and justice of the public.
ADVERTISEMENT
TO
THE PRESENT EDITION.
Tue quarto edition of this translation
of the ‘ Memorrs or Count Gran-
‘mont, having been long out of print,
and the eagerness with which copies
of it continue to be sought after, being
a sufficient proof that a new edition
cannot be unacceptable to the public,
the proprietors have been induced to
bring one forward in a less expensive
and more convenient form.
Respecting the execution of it,
they beg leave to observe, that it
x ADVERTISEMENT TO ©
would have enhanced the price too
much, if they had given all the por-
traits which embellished the former
edition; they have therefore made a
selection of those which were con-
sidered most interesting. As credit
was taken for the typographical exe-
cution of the last edition, they trust
the present will be found, in- that
respect, to have much higher claims:
to approbation.
The translation has been through-
out carefully revised, and, it is hoped,
will be found improved; a few ad-
ditions have been likewise made to
the notes. 9
One slight deviation from the ar-
rangement of the former editions it is
THE PRESENT EDITION. <7
proper to notice. For the purpose of
effecting an equal division of the vo-
lumes, the ninth and tenth chapters
are divided into three, in consequence
of which, what was formerly the
eleventh, now becomes the twelfth
chapter.
Lonpon, May 1808.
Pew ix ue ‘
MEMOIRS
OF
COUNT GRAMMONT.
CHAPTER I.
As those who read only for amuse-
ment are in my opinion more worthy of
attention than those who open a book
merely to find fault, to the former I
address myself, and for their enter-
tainment commit the following pages
to press, without being in the least
concerned about the severe criticisms
of the latter. I farther declare, that
the order of time and disposition of the
facts, which give more trouble to the
writer than pleasure to the reader,
shall not much embarrass me in these.
VOL. I. B
2 MEMOIRS OF
memoirs. It being my design to con-
vey a just idea of my hero, those cir-
cumstances which most tend to illus-
trate and distinguish his character shall
find a place in these fragments just as
they present themselves to my imagi-
nation, without paying any particular
attention to their arrangement.
For, after all, what does it signify
where the portrait is begun, provided
the assemblage of the parts forms a
whole which perfectly expresses the
original? The celebrated Plutarch, who
treats his heroes as he does his readers,
commences the life of the one just as
he thinks fit, and diverts the attention
of the other with digressions into an- —
tiquity, or agreeable passages of litera-
ture, which frequently have. no refer-
ence to the subject: for instance, he ~
tells us, that Demetrius Poliorcetes
was far from being so tall as his father
COUNT GRAMMONT. 4
Antigonus; and afterwards, that his
reputed father Antigonus was only his
uncle; but this is not until he has begun
his life with a short account of his
death, his various exploits, his good
and bad qualities; and at last, out of
compassion to his failings, brings for-
ward a comparison between him and
the unfortunate Mark Antony.
In the life of Numa Pompilius he
begins by a dissertation upon his pre-
ceptor Pythagoras; and, as if he
thought the reader would be anxious
to know whether it was the ancient
philosopher, or one of the same name,
who, after being victorious at the
Olympic games, went full speed into
Italy to teach Numa philosophy, and
instruct him in the arts of govern-
ment; he gives himself much trouble
to explain this difficulty, and, after all,
leaves it undetermined. What I have
4 MEMOIRS OF ©
said upon this subject is not meant to
reflect upon this historian, to whom,
of all the ancients, we are most ob-
liged; it is only intended to authorize
the manner in which I have treated a
life far more extraordinary than any of
those he has transmitted to us. It is
my part to describe a man, whose in-
imitable character throws a veil over
those faults which I shall neither pal-
liate nor disguise; a man, distinguished
by a mixture of virtues and vices so
closely linked together, as in appear-
ance to form a necessary dependence,
glowing with the greatest beauty when
united, shining with the brightest
lustre when opposed.
It is this indefinable brilliancy,
which in war, in love, at play, and
in the various stages of a long life,
has rendered the Count de Gram-
mont the admiration of the age in |
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COUNT GRAMMONT. 5
which he lived. By this he became
the delight of every country wherein
he has displayed his engaging qualities
and his inconstancy: where the liveli-
ness of his wit gave birth to those ad-
mirable bon mots, which have been
transmitted to posterity with universal
applause; of those who have been en-
riched by his magnificence and pro-
fusion; or finally, of those in which
he has enjoyed his presence of mind in
the most imminent perils, wlnle his
facetiousness in the most trying cir-
cumstances of warfare has proved him
possessed of firmness and courage
which fall to the lot of few. I. shall
not attempt to draw his portrait: his
person has been described by Bussi
and St. Evremond, authors more en-
tertaining than faithful. The former
has represented the Chevalier Gram-
mont as artful, fickle, and even some-
what treacherous, in his amours, and
6 MEMOIRS OF
indefatigable and cruel in his jealousies.
St. Evremond has used different co-
lours to express the genius and describe
the general manners of the Count;
whilst both, in their different pictures,
have done greater honour to themselves
than justice to their hero.
It is, therefore, to the Count him-
self we must listen, in the agreeable
relation of the sieges and _ battles,
wherein he distinguished himself un-
der another hero; and it is on him we
must rely for the true representation
of passages the least glorious of his
life, and for the sincerity with which
he relates his address, vivacity, frauds,
and the various stratagems he prac-
tised either in love or gaming. These
express his true character, and to him-
self we owe these memoirs, since I
only hold the pen, while he directs it
to the most remarkable and secret pas-
sages of his life.
'ARDIN
rout wn Onymnal LAMMLrée ¢ Philip Srabiyt 3
¢
aE Yo
COUNT GRAMMONT. 7
CHAPTER II.
Ix those days affairs were not managed
in France as at present: Louis XIII.
then sat upon the throne, but the Car-
dinal de Richlieu governed the king-
dom; great men commanded small
armies, and small armies did great
things: the fortune of great men de-
pended solely upon ministerial favour,
and blind devotion to the will of the
minister was the only sure method of
advancement. Vast designs were then
laying im the heart of neighbouring
states the foundation of that formidable
greatness to which France has now —
risen: the police was somewhat neg-
lected; the highways were impass-
able by day, and the streets by night;
but robberies were committed else-
8 MEMOIRS OF
where with greater impunity. Young
men, on their first entrance into the
world, took what course they thought
proper: whoever would, was a Che-
valier, and whoever could, an Abbé,
I mean a beneficed Abbé: dress made
no distinction between them ; and, I
believe, the Chevalier Grammont was
both the one and the other at the une
Gfirrinos 24
This was his first campaign, and
here he displayed those attractive
graces which so favourably prepossess,
and require neither friends nor recom-
mendations to procure a favourable re-
eption in any company. The siege was
already formed when he arrived, which
saved him some needless risks; for a
volunteer cannot rest at ease, until he
has stood the first fire: he went there-
fore to reconnoitre the generals, having
no occasion to reconnoitre the place,
COUNT GRAMMONT. 9
Prince Thomas commanded the army;
and as the post of Lieutenant-General
was not then known, Du Plessis Pra-
lin and the famous Viscount Turenne
were his Major Generals. Fortified
places were treated with some respect,
before a Power which nothing can
withstand had found means to destroy
them by dreadful showers of bombs,
and by destructive batteries of a hun-
dred pieces of cannon. Before these
furious storms which drive governors
under ground and reduce their gar-
risons. to powder, repeated sallies
bravely repulsed, and vigorous attacks
nobly sustained, signalized both the
art of the besiegers and the courage of
the besieged; consequently sieges were
of some length, and young men had
an opportunity of gaining some know-
ledge. Many brave actions were per-
formed on each side during the siege
10 MEMOIRS OF
of Trino: a great deal of fatigue was
endured, and considerable losses sus-
tained ; but fatigue was no more con-
sidered, hardships were no more felt
in the trenches, gravity was at an end
with the generals, and the troops were
no longer dispirited, after the arrival
of the Chevalier Grammont. Plea-
sure was his pursuit, and he made it
universal.
Among the officers in the army,
as in all other places, there are men
of real merit, or pretenders to it.
The latter endeavoured to imitate the
Chevalier Grammont in his most shin-
ing qualities, but without success; the
former admired his talents and courted
his friendship. Of this number was
Matta: He was agreeable1n his person,
but still more by the natural turn of his
wit; he was plain and simple in his
manners, but endued with a quick dis-
COUNT GRAMMONT. II
cernment and refined delicacy, and
full of candour and integrity in all his
actions. The Chevalier Grammont
was not long in discovering his ami-
able qualities; an acquaintance was
soon formed, and was succeeded by
the strictest intimacy. |
Matta insisted that the Chevalier
should take up his quarters with him;
to which he only consented, on condi-
tion of equally contributing to the ex-
pence. As they were both liberal and
magnificent, at their common cost they
gave the best designed and most luxu-
rious entertainments that had ever yet
been seen. Play was wonderfully pro-
ductive at first, and the Chevalier re-
turned in a hundred different ways that
which he obtained only by one. The
generals, being entertained by turns,
admired their magnificence, and were
dissatisfied with their own officers for
12 MEMOIRS OF
not keeping such good tables and at-
tendance. The Chevalier had the talent
of setting off the most indifferent things
to advantage; and his wit was so gene-
rally acknowledged, that it was a kind ©
of disgrace not to submit to his taste.
To him Matta resigned the care of fur-
nishing the table and doing its ho-
nours; and charmed with the general
applause, persuaded himself that no-
thing could be more honourable than
their way of living, and nothing more
easy than to continue it; but he soon
perceived that the greatest prosperity
is not the most lasting. Good living,
bad economy, dishonest servants, and
ill-luck, all uniting together to discon-
cert their house-keeping, their table
was going to be gradually laid aside,
when the Chevalier’s genius, fertile in
resources, undertook to support his for-
mer credit by an expedient, of which
the reader will presently hear.
COUNT GRAMMONT. 13
They had never yet conferred about
the state of their finances, although
the steward had acquainted each sepa- -
rately, that he must either receive mo-
ney to continue the expences, or give
in his accounts. One day, when the
Chevalier came home sooner than
usual, he found Matta fast asleep in
an easy chair, and being unwilling to
disturb his rest, he began musing on
his project. Matta awoke without his
perceiving it; and having for a short
time, observed the deep fit of musing
in which he was buried, and the pro-
found silence between two persons,
who had never held their tongue for a
moment when together before, he
broke it by a sudden fit of laughter,
which increased in proportion as the
other stared at him. ‘A merry way of
‘waking, and ludicrous enough,’ said
the Chevalier; ‘ What is the matter,
14 MEMOIRS OF
‘and what do you laugh at? ‘ Faith,
‘Chevalier, said Matta, ‘I am laugh-
“ing ata dream I had just now, which
‘is so natural and diverting, that I
‘must,make you laugh at it also. I
‘was dreaming that we had dismissed
‘our maitre d’hétel, our cook, and
‘our butler, having resolved, for the
‘remainder of the campaign, to live
‘upon others as others have lived upon
‘us: this was my dream. Now tell
‘me, Chevalier, on what were you
‘musing?’ ‘ Poor fellow!’ said the Che-
valier, shrugging up his shoulders,
‘you are knocked down at once, and
‘ thrown into the utmost consternation
‘and despair at some silly stories
‘which the maitre d’hétel has been -
‘telling you as well as me. What!
‘ after the figure we have made in the
‘face of the nobility and foreigners in
‘the army, shall we give it up, and
COUNT GRAMMONT. 1S
‘like fools and beggars sneak off, upon
‘ the first failure of our money! Have
‘ you no sentiments of honour! Where
‘is the dignity of France? ‘ And where
‘is the money? said Matta; ‘ for my
“men say, the Devil may take them,
‘if there be ten crowns in the house;
‘and I believe you have not much
“more, for it is above a week since I
‘have seen you either pull out your
* purse, or count your money, an
‘amusement you were very fond of
‘in prosperity.’ ‘ I own all this,’ said
the Chevalier, ‘ but yet I will force
‘you to confess, that you are but a
‘mean-spirited fellow upon this occa-
‘sion. What would have become of
‘you if you had been reduced to the
“situation I was in at Lyons, four days
‘before I arrived here? I will tell you
‘the story.’
16 - MEMOIRS OF
CHAPTER III.
«'T'uss,’ said Matta, ‘ smells strongly
‘of romance, except that it should
‘have been your Squire’s part to tell
‘your adventures.’ ‘ True,’ said the
‘ Chevalier; ‘ however, I may acquaint
‘you with my first exploits without
‘ offending my modesty; besides, my
‘ Squire’s style borders too much upon
‘the burlesque for an heroic narra-
‘ tive.
‘You must know then, that upon
‘my arrival at Lyons’—Is it thus you
begin, said Matta? Pray give us your
history a little farther back, the most
minute particulars of a life like yours
are worthy of relation; but above all,
the manner in which you first paid
your respects to Cardinal Richlieu: I
COUNT GRAMMONT. 17
have often laughed at it. I dispense
however, with the relation of your
juvenile exploits, your genealogy,
name and quality of your ancestors,
for these are subjects with which you
must be utterly unacquainted.
‘Poh! said the Chevalier, ‘ you
‘jest with a very bad grace, you
‘believe that every one is as igno-
‘rant as. yourself ;—you think that I
‘am a stranger to the Mendores and
‘the Corisandes. So, perhaps I don’t
‘know, that it was my father’s own
‘fault that he was not the son of
‘Henry IV. The king would by all
‘means have acknowledged him for
‘his son, but the cross-grained fellow
‘ would never consent to it. See what
‘ theGrammonts would have been now,
‘but for his obstinacy! They would
‘have had precedence of the Cesars
VOL. I. C
18 MEMOIRS OF
‘de Venddme. You may laugh, if
‘you like, yet it is as true as the gos-
‘pel: but let us come to the point.
‘I was sent to the college of Pau,
‘with the intention of being brought
‘up to the church; but as I had quite
‘ different views, I made no manner
‘of improvement: play was so much
‘in my head, that both my tutor and
‘the masters lost their Latin in en-
‘ deavouring to teach it me. Old Bri-
‘non, who served me both as valet-
‘de-chambre and governor, in vain
‘threatened to acquaifit my mother.
‘TI only studied when I pleased, that
‘is to say, seldom or never: however,
‘I was treated as is customary with
‘scholars of my quality; I was raised
‘to all the dignities of the class,
‘ without having deserved them, and
‘left college nearly in the same state
‘in which I entered it; nevertheless,
COUNT GRAMMONT. 19
‘ T was thought to have as much know-
‘ledge as was requisite for the ab-
‘bacy, which my brother had solicited
‘for me. He had just married the
‘niece of a minister, to whom every
‘ one cringed: he was desirous to pre-
“sent me to him. I felt but little 1e-
‘ egret at quitting the country, and great
‘impatience to see Paris. My brother
‘having kept me some time with him,
‘in order to polish me, let me loose
‘upon the town to shake off my rustic
‘air, and learn the manners of the
‘world. Iso thoroughly acquired them,
‘that I could not be persuaded to lay
‘them aside when I was introduced at
‘court in the character of an Abbé.
‘You know what kind of dress was
‘then in fashion. All that they could
‘obtain of me was to put a cassock
‘over my other clothes, and my bro-
‘ther, ready to die with laughing at
20 MEMOIRS OF
“my ecclesiastical dress, made others
‘laugh too. I had the finest head of
‘hair in the world, well curled and
‘powdered, above my cassock, and
‘under were white buskins and gilt
‘spurs. The Cardinal, who had a
‘quick discernment, could not help
‘laughing. This elevation of senti-
‘ment gave him umbrage; and he
‘foresaw what might be expected
‘from a genius that already laughed
‘at the shaven crown and cowl.
‘When my brother had taken me
‘home; well, my little parson, said
‘he, you have acted your part to ad»
‘miration, and your party-coloured
‘dress of the ecclesiastic and soldier
‘has greatly diverted the court; but
‘ this is not all: you must now choose,
‘my little knight. Consider then,
‘ whether it is not more desirable, by
‘sticking to the church, to become.
COUNT GRAMMONT. 21
*possesssed of great revenues, and
‘lead an easy life, than with a small
‘patrimony, to risk the loss of a leg
‘or an arm, and become the fructus
‘ bel of an ungrateful court, to arrive
‘im your old age at the dignity of a
‘ Major General, with a glass eye and
‘a wooden leg. I know, said I, that
‘ there is no comparison between these
‘two situations, with regard to the
* conveniences of life; but, as a man
‘ought to secure his future state in
‘ preference to all other considerations,
‘Tam resolved to renounce the church
‘for the salvation of my soul, upon
‘condition, however, that I keep my
‘abbacy. Neither the remonstrances
‘nor authority of my brother, could
‘induce me to change my resolution ;
‘and he was forced to agree to this
‘last article in order to keep me at the
“academy. You know that I am the
‘most adroit man in France, so that I
99 MEMOIRS OF
‘soon learned all that is taught at such
‘ places, and, at the same time, I made
‘ myself master of that which gives the
‘finishing stroke to a young fellow’s
‘ education,and makes hima gentleman,
‘viz. all sorts of games, both at cards
‘and dice; but the truth is, I thought,
‘at first, that I had more skill in them
‘than I really had, as experience
‘proved. When my mother knew
‘the choice I had made, she was in-
‘ consolable, for she believed, that had
‘I entered into the church I should
‘ have been a saint; but now she was
‘certain that I should either be a
‘devil in the world, or be killed in
‘the wars. Indeed I burned with
‘impatience to be a soldier; but being
‘ yet too young, I was forced to make
‘a campaign at Bidache before I made
‘one in the army. When I returned
‘to my mother’s house, I had so much
COUNT GRAMMONT. 93
‘the air of a courtier, and a man of
‘the world, that she began to respect
‘me, instead of chiding me for my
‘infatuation towards the army. I be-
‘came her favourite, and finding me
‘inflexible, she only thought of keep-
‘ing me with her as long as she could,
‘while my little equipage was pre-
‘paring. The faithful Brinon, who
‘was to attend me as valet-de-cham-
“bre, was likewise to discharge the
‘ office of governor and equerry, being,
‘perhaps, the only gascon who was
‘ever possessed of so much gravity
‘and ill-temper. He passed his word
‘for my good conduct and morals,
‘and promised my mother that he
‘would give a good account of my
‘person in the dangers of the war.
‘T trust he will keep his word better
‘as to this last article, than he has
‘ yet done to the former.
24 MEMOIRS OF.
‘My equipage was sent away 4
‘week before me. ‘This was so much
‘time gained by my mother to give
‘me good advice. At length, after
‘having solemnly enjoined me to have
‘the fear of God before my eyes, and
‘to love my neighbour as myself, she
‘ suffered me to depart, under the pro-
‘tection of the Lord and the sage
‘Brinon. At the second stage we
‘quarrelled. He had received four
‘hundred louis d’ors for the expenses
“of the campaign: I wished to have
‘the keeping of them myself, which
‘he strenuously opposed. Thou old
‘ scoundrel, said I, is the money thine,
- or was it given thee for me? Thou
‘ supposest I must have a treasurer, and
‘receive no money without his order.
‘I know not whether it was from a
‘ presentiment of what afterwards hap-
‘pened, that he grew melancholy ;
COUNT GRAMMONT. 95
‘ however it was with the greatest re-
‘ luctance, and most poignant anguish,
‘that he found himself obliged to
‘yield. One would have thought
‘ that I had wrested his very soul from
‘him. I found myself more light and
‘merry after I had eased him of his
‘load; he, on the contrary, appeared
‘so overwhelmed with grief, that it
‘seemed as if I had laid four hun-
‘dred pounds of lead upon his back,
‘instead of taking away four hun-
‘dred louis. He went on so hea-
‘vily, that I was forced to whip his
‘horse myself, and turning to me,
‘now and then, Ah! Sir, said he, my
‘Lady did not think it would be so.
‘ His reflections and sorrows were re-
‘newed at every stage; for, instead
‘of giving a shilling to the postillion,
‘JT gave him half-a-crown.
‘Having, at last, reached Lyons,
26 ~ ~MEMOIRS OF
‘two soldiers stopped us at the gate
‘of the city, to carry us before the
‘governor. I took one of them to —
“conduct me to the best inn, and de-
‘livered Brinon into the hands of the
‘other, to acquaint the commandant
‘with the particulars of my journey,
‘and my future intentions.
‘ There are as good taverns at
‘Lyons as at Paris; but my soldier,
‘according to custom, carried me to
‘a friend of his own, whose house he
‘extolled, as having the best accom-
‘modations, and the greatest resort
‘of good company in the whole city.
‘The master of this hotel was as big
‘as a hogshead; his name Cerise; a
‘Swiss by birth, a poisoner by pro-
‘fession, and a thief by custom. He
‘ shewed me into a tolerably neat room,
‘and desired to know, whether’ I
‘chose to sup by myself or at the
COUNT GRAMMONT. | 97
‘ordinary. I preferred the latter, on
‘account of the good company which
‘ the soldier had boasted of. :
‘ Brinon, who was quite out of
‘temper at the many questions which
‘ the governor had asked him, returned
‘more surly than an old ape; and
‘seeing that I was dressing my hair,
‘in order to go down stairs: What are.
‘you about now, Sir? said he. Are
‘you going to tramp about the town?
‘No, no: have we not had tramping |
‘enough ever since the morning? Eat
‘a bit of supper, and go to bed be-
‘times, that you may get on horse-
‘back by day-break. Mr. Comptrol-
‘ler, said I, I shall neither tramp
‘about the town, nor eat alone, nor
‘go to bed early. I intend to sup
‘with the company below. At the
‘ordinary! cried he, I beseech you,
‘Sir, do not think of it! Devil take
28 _ MEMOIRS OF
‘me, if there be not a dozen brawling
‘fellows playing at cards and dice,
‘who make noise enough to drown
‘the loudest thunder! I was grown
‘insolent since I had seized the money ;
‘and being desirous to shake off the
‘ yoke of my governor, Do you know,
‘Mr. Brinon, said I, that I don’t like
‘a blockhead to set up for a reasoner;
‘do you go to supper, if you please,
*‘ but take care that I have i ic
‘ready before day-break.
‘The moment he had mentioned
‘cards and dice I felt the money burn
‘in my pocket. I was somewhat sur-
‘prised, however, to find the room.
‘where the ordinary was served filled
‘ with odd-looking creatures. My host,
‘after presenting me to the company,
‘assured me, that there were but
‘eighteen or twenty of those gentle-
‘men who would have the honour to
COUNT GRAMMONT. 99
‘sup with me. I approached one of
‘the tables where they were playing,
‘and thought I should have died with
‘laughing: I expected to have seen
‘good company and deep play; but I
‘only met with two Germans playing
‘at backgammon. Never did two
‘ country boobies play like them; but
‘ their figures beggared all description.
‘ The fellow near whom I stood, was
‘short, thick, and fat, and as round
‘as a ball, with a ruff and a prodigious
‘high-crowned hat. Any one, at a
‘ moderate distance, would have taken
‘him for the dome of a church, with
‘the steeple on the top of it. I in-
‘quired of the host, who he was. A
‘merchant from Basle, said he, who
‘comes hither to sell horses; but from
‘the method he pursues, I think he
‘ will not dispose of many; for he does
‘nothing but play. Does he play
30 MEMOIRS OF
‘deep? said I. Not now, said he;
‘they are only playing for their rec-
‘ koning, while supper is getting ready;
© but he has no objection to play as —
‘deep as any one. Has he money?
‘said I.: ‘As for that, réplied the
‘treacherous Cerise, would to God
‘you had won a thousand pistoles of
‘him, and I went your halves; we
‘should not be long without our
‘money. I wanted no farther en-
‘couragement to meditate the ruin of
‘the high-crowned hat. I went nearer
‘him, in order to take a closer survey;
‘never was such a bungler, he made
‘blots upon blots; God knows, I be-
‘gan to feel some remorse at winning
‘of such an ignoramus, who knew so
‘little of the game. He lost his rec-
‘koning; supper was served up; and
‘I desired him to.sit next me. It was
‘a long table, and there were at least
COUNT GRAMMONT. 82
‘five and twenty in company, not-
‘ withstanding the landlord’s promise.
‘The most execrable repast that ever
‘was served up being finished, the
‘crowd insensibly dispersed, except
‘the little Swiss, who still kept near
‘me, and the landlord, who placed
‘himself on the other side of me.
‘They both smoked like dragons; and
‘the Swiss was continually saying, in
‘bad French, I ask your pardon, Su,
‘for my great freedom; at the same
‘time blowing such whifis of tobacco
‘in my face as almost suffocated me.
‘ Mr. Cerise, on the other hand, de-
‘sired to take the liberty of asking
‘me, whether I had ever been in his
‘country? and seemed surprised I had
‘so genteel an air, without having tra-
‘velled into Switzerland.
‘ The little chub I had to en-
‘counter was full as inquisitive as the
32 MEMOIRS OF
‘other. He desired to know whether
‘I came from the army in Piedmont;
‘and having told him I was going
‘thither, he asked me, whether I had
‘a mind to buy any horses? that he
‘had about two hundred to dispose of,
‘and that he would sell them cheap.
‘I began to be smoked like a gammon
‘of bacon; and being quite wearied
‘out, both with their tobacco and
‘their questions, I asked my com-
‘panion, if he would play for a single
‘pistole at backgammon, while our
‘men were supping; it was not with-
‘out great ceremony that he consent- _
‘ed, at the same time asking my par-
‘don for his great freedom.
‘I won the game: I gave him his
‘revenge, and won again. We then
‘played double or quit; I won that
‘too, and all in the twinkling of an
‘eye; for he grew vexed, and suffered
COUNT GRAMMONT. 85
‘ himself to be taken in, so that I be-
“gan to bless my stars for my good
‘fortune. Brinon came in about the
‘end of the third game, to put me to
‘bed. He crossed himself with great
‘fervour; but paid no attention to the
‘signs I made him to retire. I was
‘ forced to rise to give him that order
‘in private. He began to reprimand
‘me for disgracing myself by keeping
‘company with such a_low-bred
‘wretch. It was in vain that I told
‘him, he was a great merchant, that
‘he had a great deal of money, and
‘that he played like a child. He a
‘merchant! cried Brinon. Do not
‘believe that, Sir. May the devil
‘take me, if he is not some conjurer.
‘ Hold your tongue, you old fool, said
‘T; he is no more a conjurer than you
‘are, and that is decisive; and, to
‘prove it to you, I am resolved to
VOL. I. D
34 MEMOIRS OF
‘win four or five hundred pistoles of
‘him before I go to bed. With these
‘words I turned him out, strictly en-
‘joining him not to return, or in sets
‘manner to disturb us.
‘The game being finished, tier little
‘ Swiss unbuttoned his pockets, to pull
‘out a new four pistole piece, and
‘presenting it to me, he asked my
‘pardon for his great freedom, and
‘seemed as if he wished to retire.
‘ This was not what I wanted. I told
‘him we only played for amusement ;
‘ that J had no design upon his money;
‘and that, if he pleased, I would play
‘him a single game for his four pis-
‘toles. He raised some objections;
‘but consented at last, and won back
‘his money. I was piqued at it. I
‘ played another game ; fortune chang-
‘ed sides; the dice ran for him, hé
‘made no more blots, I lost the
COUNT GRAMMONT. 35
‘ame; another game, and double or
‘quit; we doubled the stake, and
‘ played double or quit again.—I was
‘vexed; he, like a true gamester,
“took every bet I offered, and won
‘all before him, without my getting
‘more than six points in eight or ten
‘eames. I asked him to play a single
‘ogame for one hundred pistoles ; but
‘as he saw I did not stake, he told
‘me it was late; that he must go and
‘look after his horses; and went away,
‘still asking my pardon for his great
‘freedom. The cool manner of his
‘refusal, and the politeness with
‘which he took his leave, provoked
‘me to such a degree, that I could
‘almost have killed him. I was so
“confounded at losing my money so
‘fast, even to the last pistole, that I
“did not immediately consider the
36 MEMOIRS OF
‘miserable situation to which I was
‘ reduced. |
_ *I durst not go up to my cham-
‘ber for fear of Brinon. Luckily
‘however, being tired with waiting
‘for me, he had gone to bed. ‘This
‘was some consolation, though but
‘of short continuance. As soon as I
‘was laid down, all the fatal conse-
‘quences of my adventure presented
‘themselves to my imagination. =f
“could not sleep. I saw all the hor-
‘rors of my misfortune, without being
‘able to find any remedy; in vain did
‘IT rack my brain; it supplied me with
‘no expedient. I dreaded nothing so
‘much as day-break: however, it did
‘come, and the cruel Brinon along
‘with it. He was booted up ‘to the
‘middle, and cracking a cursed whip,
‘which he held in his hand: Up,
COUNT GRAMMONT. — S7
“Monsieur le Chevalier, cried he,
‘opening the curtains, the horses are
‘at the door, and you are still asleep.
“We ought by this time to have rid
“two stages; give me money to pay
“the reckoning. Brinon, said I, ina
‘dejected tone, draw the. curtains.
‘What! cried he, draw the curtains!
“Do you intend then to make your
‘ campaign at Lyons? you seem to have
‘ taken a wonderful liking to the place.
‘ And for the great merchant, you have
* stripped him, I suppose. No, no, Mon-
‘sieur le Chevalier, this money will
‘never do you any good. This wretch
‘has, perhaps, a family; and it is his
‘children’s bread that he has been
_£ playing with, and that you have won.
“Was this an object to sit up all night
‘for? What would my lady say, if she
“knew what a life you lead? Mr, Bri-
‘non, said I, pray draw the curtains.
38 _. MEMOIRS OF
‘ But instead of obeying me, one would
‘have thought that the devil: had
‘ prompted him to say the most point-
‘ed and galling things to a person un-
‘der such misfortune. And how much
‘ have you won? said he: five hundred
‘ pistoles?) what will the poor man
‘do? Recollect, Monsieur leChevalier,
‘what I have said: this money will —
‘never thrive with you. It is, per-
‘haps, but four hundred? three? two?
‘Well, if it be but one hundred louis
‘dors, continued he, seeing that I
‘shook my head at every sum which
‘he had named, there is no great mis-
‘ chief done; one hundred pistoles will
‘not ruin him, provided you have
‘won them fairly. Friend Brinon,
‘said I, fetching a deep sigh, draw
‘the curtains; I am unworthy to see
‘ day-light. Brinon was much affected
‘at these melancholy words: but: I
COUNT GRAMMONT. 39
* thought he would have fainted, when
“I told him the whole adventure. He
- © tore his hair, made grievous lamenta-
‘tions, the burden of which still was,
‘what will my lady say? And, after
‘having exhausted his unprofitable
“complaints, what will become of you
‘now, Monsieur le Chevalier, said he?
‘what do you intend to do? Nothing,
‘said I, for I am fit for nothing. Af-
‘ter this, being somewhat eased after
‘ making him my confession, I thought
‘upon several projects, to none of
‘which could I gain his approbation.
‘I would have had him post after my
‘ equipage, to have sold some of my
‘clothes. I was for proposing to the
‘horse-dealer, to buy some horses of
‘him at a high price on credit, to sell
‘again cheap. Brinon laughed at all
‘ these schemes, and after having had
‘ the cruelty of keeping me upon the
40 - MEMOIRS OF
‘rack for a long time, he at last ex-
‘tricated me. Parents are always
‘stingy towards their poor children ;
‘my mother intended to have given
‘me five hundred louis d’ors, but she
“had kept back fifty, as well for some
“little repairs in the abbey, as to pay
‘ for praying for me. Brinon had the
‘ charge of the other fifty, with strict
‘injunctions not to speak of them,
‘unless upon some urgent necessity. —
‘ And this, you see, soon happened.
‘Thus you have a brief account of
‘my first adventure, Play has hitherto
‘favoured me; for, since my arrival,
‘TI have had, at one time, after paying
‘all my expenses, fifteen hundred louis
‘dors. Fortune is now again become
‘unfavourable: we must mend her,
¢ Our cash runs low; we. must, there-
‘ fore, endeavour to recruit.’
Nothing is more easy, said Matta;
COUNT GRAMMONT. 4A]
it is only to find out such another dupe
asthe horse-dealer at Lyons; but now
I think on it, has not the faithful
Brinon some reserve for the last ex-
tremity? Faith the time is now come,
and we cannot do better than to make
use of it, .
Your raillery would be very sea-
sonable, said the Chevalier, if you
knew how to extricate us out of this
difficulty. You must certainly have
an overflow of wit, to be throwing it
away upon every occasion as you do
now. What the devil! must you al-
ways be bantering, without consider-
ing what a critical situation we are
reduced to, Mind what I say, I will
go to-morrow to the head quarters, I
will dine with the Count de Cameran,
and I will invite him. to supper.
Where? said Matta. Here, said the
49 _ - MEMOIRS OF
Chevalier. You are mad, my poor
friend, replied Matta. This is some
such project as you formed at Lyons:
you know we have neither money nor
credit; and, to re-establish our cir-
cumstances, you intend to give a
supper. |
Stupid fellow! said the Chevalier, —
is it possible, that, so long as we have
been acquainted, you should have
learned no more invention? The Count
de Cameran plays at quinze, and so
do I; we want money; he has more
than he knows what. to do with; I
will bespeak a splendid supper, he
shall pay for it. Send your maitre
@hodtel to me, and trouble yourself no
further, except in some. precautions,
which it is: necessary to take on such
an occasion.. What are they? said
Matta. . I will tell you, said the Che-
COUNT GRAMMONT. 4$
valier; for I find one must explain to
you things that are as clear as noon-
day.
You command the guards that are
here, don’t you? As soon as night
comes on, you shall order fifteen or
twenty men under the command of
your serjeant La Place, to be under
arms, and to lay themselves flat on
the ground, between this place and
the head quarters. What the devil!
cried Matta, an ambuscade? God for-
give me, I believe you intend to rob
the poor Savoyard. If that be your
intention, I declare I will have no
share in it. Poor fellow! said the
Chevalier, the matter is this: it is
very likely that we shall win his money,
The Piedmontese, though otherwise
good fellows, are apt to be suspicious
and distrustful. He commands the
horse; you know you cannot hold
4.4, MEMOIRS OF
your tongue, and are very likely to
let slip some jest or other that may
vex him. Should he take it into his
head that he is cheated, and resent
it, who knows what the consequences
may be? for he is commonly at-
tended by eight or ten horsemen.
Therefore, however he may be pro-
voked at his loss, it is proper to be in
such a situation as not to dread his
resentment.
Embrace me, my dear Chevalier,
said Matta, holding his sides and
laughing, embrace me, for thou art an
incomparable fellow. What a fool was
I to think, when you talked to me of
taking precautions, that nothing more
was necessary than to prepare a table
and cards, or perhaps to provide some -
false dice. I should never have thought
of supporting. a man who plays at
quinze by a detachment of: foot: I
COUNT GRAMMONT. 45
must, indeed, confess that you are al-
ready a great soldier.
The next da¥ every thing happen-
ed as the Chevalier de Grammont had
planned it: the unfortunate Cameran
fell into the snare. ‘They supped in
the most agreeable manner possible:
Matta drank five or six bumpers to
drown a-few scruples, which. made
him somewhat uneasy. The Cheva-
lier de Grammont shone as usual, and
almost made his guest die with laugh-
ing, whom he was soon after to make:
very serious; and the good-natured
Cameran eat like a man, whose affec-
tions were divided between good cheer
and the love of play; that is to say, he
hurried down his victuals, that he
might not lose any of the precious
time which he had devoted to quinze.
Supper being finished, the serjeant
46 _ MEMOIRS OF
La Place posted his ambuscade, and
the Chevalier de.Grammont engaged ~
his man. The perfidy of Cerise, and.
the high-crowned hat, were still fresh
in remembrance, and enabled him to
get the better of a few grains of re-
morse, and conquer some scruples
which arose in his mind. Matta, un-
willing to be a spectator of violated
hospitality, sat down in an easy chair,
in order to fall asleep, while the Che-
valier was stripping the poor count of
his money.
They only staked three or Sang
pistoles at first, just for amusement;
but Cameran having lost three or four
times, he staked high, and the game
became more serious. He continued
to lose, and became outrageous; the
cards flew about the room, and the ex-
clamations awoke Matta.
As his head was heavy with sleep,
COUNT GRAMMONT. AT
and hot with wine, he began to laugh
_ at the passion of the Piedmontese, in-
stead of consoling him. Faith, my
poor Count, said he, if I was in your
place, I would play no more. Why
so? said the other. I don’t know,
said he, but something tells me that
your ill-luck will continue. I-will try
that, said Cameran, calling for fresh
ceards.. We shall see, said Matta, and
fell asleep again : it was but for a short
time. All cards were equally unfor-
tunate for the loser. He held none but.
tens or court cards; and if by chance
he had quinze, he was sure to be the.
younger hand, and therefore lost it.
Again he stormed. Did not I tell you
so? said Matta, starting out of his’
sleep. All your storming is in vain}
as long as you play, you will lose:
Believe me, the shortest follies are the
48 MEMOIRS OF
best. Leave off, for the devil take
me, if it is possible for you to win.
Why? said Cameran, who began to be
impatient. Do you wish to know?
said Matta; Why, faith, it is, because
we are cheating you. |
The Chevalier de Grainnueees pro-
voked at so ill-timed a jest, more es-
pecially as it carried along with it
some appearance of truth; Mr. Matta,
said he, do you think it can be very
agreeable for a man, who plays with
such ill-luck as the Count, to be pes-
tered with your insipid jests? For my,
part, I am so weary of the game, that
I would desist immediately, if he was
not so great a loser. Nothing is more
dreaded by a losing gamester, than
such a threat; and the Count, in a
softened tone, told the Chevalier, that
Mr, Matta might say what he pleased,
COUNT GRAMMONT, 49
if it did not offend him; that, as to
himself, it did not give him the small-
est uneasiness.
The Chevalier de Grammont gave
the Count far better treatment than
he himself had experienced from the
Swiss at Lyons; for he played upon
credit as long as he pleased; which
Cameran took so kindly, that he lost
fifteen hundred pistoles, and paid them
the next morning. As for Matta, he
was severely reprimanded for the in-
temperance of his tongue. All the
reason he gave for his conduct was,
that he made it a point of conscience,
not to suffer the poor Savoyard to be
cheated, without informing him of it;
besides, said he, it would have given
me pleasure to have seen my infantry
engaged with his horse, if he had been
inclined to mischief.
This adventure having recruited
VOL. I. E
50 MEMOIRS OF
their finances, fortune favoured them
during the remainder of the campaign,
and the Chevalier de Grammont, to
prove that he had only seized upon the
Count’s effects by way of reprisal, and
to indemnify himself for the losses he
had sustained at Lyons, began from
this time to make that. use of his
money, that he has been known to do —
since upon all occasions. He found
out the distressed, in order to relieve
them; officers, who had lost their
equipage in the war, or their money
at play; soldiers, who were disabled
in the trenches; in short, every ene
felt the influence of his benevolence :
but his manner of conferring a favour
exceeded even the favour itself.
A man, possessed of such amiable
qualities as these, must meet with suc-
cess in all his undertakings. The sol-
diers knew his person, and adored him.
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the Chevalier’s — was sure to
inspire it. He was much pleased with
this visit, and, by way of acknow-
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make restitution, ai d le y
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Grammont went to visit him at a an
54 MEMOIRS OF
I know very well, that during a more
glorious reign, and with armies ever
victorious, his intrepidity and address
have been the cause of taking others
since, even under the eye of his mas-
ter, as we shall see in the sequel of
these memoirs.
COUNT GRAMMONT. Sy)
CHAPTER IV.
Murrrary glory constitutes at most
but a half of the accomplishments
which distinguish heroes. Love must
give the finishing stroke, and adorn
their character by the difficulties they
encounter, the temerity of their enter-
prizes, and finally, by the lustre of
success.’ We have examples of this,
not only in romances, but also in the
genuine histories of the most famous
warriors, and the most celebrated con-
querors. |
The Chevalier de Grammont and.
Matta, who did not think much of
these examples, were, however, of
opinion, that it would be very agree-
able to refresh themselves after the
fatigues of the siege of Trino, by
Bly MEMOIRS OF
forming some other sieges, at the ex-
pense of the beauties and the hus-
bands of Turin. As the campaign had
finished early, they thought they
should have time to perform some
exploits, before the bad weather ob-
liged them to repass the mountains.
They sallied forth, therefore, not
unlike Amadis de Gaul, or Don Ga-
laor, after they had been dubbed
knights, eager in their search after
adventures in love, war, and .enchant-
ments. They were greatly superior
to those two brothers, who only knew
how to cleave in twain giants, to
break lances, and to carry off fair
damsels behind them on_ horseback,
without saying a single word to them;
whereas our heroes were adepts at
cards and dice, of which the others
were totally ignorant.
They went to Turin, met with an
COUNT GRAMMONT. 57
. agreeable reception, and were greatly
distinguished at court. Could it be
otherwise? They were young and
handsome ; they had wit at command,
and spent their money freely. In
what country will not a man succeed,
possessing such advantages? As Turin
was at that time the seat of gallantry
and of love, two strangers of this de-
scription, who were always cheerful,
brisk, and lively, could not fail to
please the ladies of the court.
Though the men of Turin were
extremely handsome, they were not,
however, possessed of the art of pleas-
ing. They treated their wives with
respect, and were courteous to stran-
gers. Their- wives, still more hand-
some, were full as courteous to stran-
gers, and less respectful to their hus-
bands.
people livel AC
manners and customs of ancient a.
valry.
The ladies had each a professed
lover, for fashion’s sake, besides vo-
MADAME ROYALE,
DAUGHTER or Wlunky yr” ow LRANCE.
PubJuly.t.1606.b yJohn White Fleet S&. John Scott.442, Strand ,
COUNT GRAMMONT. 59
lunteers, whose number was unlimit-
ed. The declared admirers wore their
mistresses’ liveries, their arms, and
sometimes even took their names.
_ Their office was, never to quit them
in public, and never to approach
them in private; to be their squires
upon all occasions, and, in justs and
tournaments, to adorn their lances,
their housings, and their coats, with
the cyphers and the colours of their
dulcineas.
Matta was far from being averse to
gallantry; but would have liked it
more simple than as it was practised
at Turin. The ordinary forms would
not have disgusted him; but he found
here a sort of superstition in the cere-
monies and worship of love, which he
thought very inconsistent: however,
as he had submitted his conduct in that
matter to the direction of the Cheva-
60 MEMOIRS OF
lier de Grammont, he was obliged to
follow his example, and to conform to
the customs of the country.
They enlisted themselves at the
same time in the service of two beau-
ties, whose former squires gave them
up immediately, from motives of po-
liteness. ‘The Chevalier de Grammont
chose Mademoiselle de Saint Germain,
and told Matta to offer his services to
Madame de Senantes. Matta consent-
ed, though he liked the other better ;
but the Chevalier de Grammont per-
suaded him, that Madame de Senantes
was more suitable for him. As he had
reaped advantage from the Chevalier’s
talents in the first projects they had
formed, he resolved to follow his’ in-
structions in love, as he had done his
advice in play.
Mademoiselle de Saint Germain was
in the bloom of youth; her eyes were
COUNT GRAMMONT. 6]
small, but very bright and sparkling,
and like her hair were black ; her com-
plexion was lively and clear, though
not fair: she had an agreeable mouth,
two fine rows of teeth, a neck as hand-
some as one could wish, and a most |
delightful shape; she had a particular
elegance in her elbows, which how-
ever she did not shew to advantage ;
her hands were rather large and not
very white; her feet, though not the
smallest, were well shaped. She trusted
to Providence, and used no art to set
off those graces which she had received
from nature; but notwithstanding her
negligence in the embellishment of her
charms, there was something so lively
in her person, that the Chevalier de
Grammont was caught at first sight;
her wit and humour corresponded with
her other qualities, being quite easy
62 MEMOIRS OF
and perfectly charming; she was all
mirth, all life, all complaisance and
politeness, and all was natural, and al-
ways the same without any variation.
The Marchioness de Senantes was
esteemed fair, and she might have en-
joyed, if she had pleased, the reputa-
tion of having red hair, had she not
rather chosen to conform to the taste
of the age in which she lived, than to
follow that of the ancients: she had
all the advantages of red hair without
any of the inconveniences ; a constant
attention to her person served as a cor-
rective to the natural defects of her
complexion. After all, what does it
signify, whether cleanliness be owing
to nature or to art? it argues an in-
vidious temper, to be very inquisitive —
about it. She had a great deal of wit,
a good memory, more reading, and a
COUNT GRAMMONT. 63
still greater inclination towards tender-
ness.
She had a husband, whom it would
have been criminal even in chastity to
spare. He piqued himself upon being
a Stoic, and gloried in being slovenly
and disgusting in honor of his pro-
fession. In this he succeeded to ad-
miration ; for he was very fat, so that
he perspired almost as much in winter
asinsummer. Erudition and brutality
seemed. to be the most conspicuous
features of his character, and were dis-
played in his conversation, sometimes.
together, sometimes alternately, but
always disagreeably: he was not jea-
lous, and yet he was troublesome; he
was very well pleased to see attentions
paid to his wife, provided more were
paid to him.
As soon as our adventurers had. de-
clared. themselves, the Chevalier de
64: . . MEMOIRS OF ~
Grammont arrayed himself in green
habiliments, and dressed Matta in blue,
these being the favourite colours cf
their new mistresses. They entered
immediately upon duty: the Chevalier
learned and practised all the cere-
monies of this species of gallantry, as
if he always had been accustomed to
them; but Matta commonly forgot one
half, and was not over perfect in prac-
tising the other. He never could re-
member, that his office was to promote
the glory, and not the interest, of his
mistress.
The Duchess of Savoy gave the
very next day an entertainment at la
Venerie, where all the ladies were in-
vited. The Chevalier was so agree-_
able and diverting, that he made his
mistress almost die with laughing.
Matta, in leading his lady to her coach,
squeezed her hand, and at their return
COUNT GRAMMONT. 65
from the promenade he intreated her to
take pity on his sufferings. This was
proceeding rather too precipitately, and
although Madame de Senantes was not
destitute of the natural compassion of
her sex, she nevertheless was shocked
at the familiarity of this treatment.
She thought it necessary in conse-
quence to shew: some degree of re-
sentment, and pulling away her hand,
which he had pressed with still greater
fervency upon this declaration, she
went up to the royal apartments with-
out even looking at her new lover.
Matta, never thinking that he had
offended her, suffered her to go, and
went in search of some company to
sup with him: nothing was more easy
for a man of his disposition; he soon
found what he wanted, sat a long time
at table to refresh himself after the
fatioues of love, and went to bed,
VOL. I. F
66 MEMOIRS OF
completely satisfied that he had per-
formed his part to perfection.
During all this time the Chevalier
de Grammont acquitted himself to-
wards Mademoiselle de Saint Germain.
with universal applause; and without
remitting his assiduities to her, he found
means to shine, as they went along, in
the relation of a thousand entertaining
anecdotes, which he introduced in the
general conversation. Her Royal
Highness listened to him with plea-
sure, and even the deserted Senantes
appeared to attend to him. He per-
ceived this, and quitted his mistress to
enquire what she had done with Matta.
I! said she, I have done nothing with
him; but, I don’t know what he would
not have done with me, if I had been -
obliging enough to listen to his most
humble solicitations; she then told
_ him in what manner his friend had
COUNT GRAMMONT. 67
treated her the very second day of
their acquaintance.
The Chevalier could not forbear
laughing at it: he told her Matta was
rather too unceremonious, but yet she
would like him better as their inti-
macy improved, and for her consola-
tion he assured her, that he would
have spoken in the same manner to
her Royal Highness herself; however,
he promised to give him a severe re-
primand. He went the next morning
into his room for that purpose; but
Matta had. gone out early in the
morning on a shooting party, in which
he had been engaged by his compa
nions of the preceding evening. At
his return he took a brace of par-
tridges and went to his mistress. Be-
ing asked whether he wished to see the
Marquis, he said no: and the Swiss
telling him his lady was not at home,
68 MEMOIRS OF
he left his partridges, and desired him
to present them to his mistress from
him. |
The Marchioness was at her toilet,
and was decorating her head with all
the grace she could devise to captivate
Matta, at the moment he was denied
admittance: she knew nothing of the
matter; but her husband was at the
bottom of it. He had taken it in dud-
geon, that the first visit was not paid
to him, and as he was resolved that it —
should not be paid to his wife, the Swiss
had received his orders, and had almost
been beaten for receiving the present
which had been left. The partridges
however were immediately sent back ;
and Matta, without inquiring into the
cause, was glad to have them again.
He went to court without ever chang-
ing his clothes, or in the least con-
sidering he ought not to appear there
COUNT GRAMMONT. 69
without his mistress’s colours. He
found her becomingly dressed; her
eyes appeared to him more than usually
sparkling, and her whole person alto-
_ gether divine. He began immediately
to be much pleased with himself for his
-complaisance to the Chevalier de Gram-
mont; however he could not help re-
marking that she looked but coldly
upon him. This appeared to him a
very extraordinary return for his ser-
vices, and, imagining that she was
unmindful of her weighty obligations
to him, he entered into conversation
with her, and severely reprimanded
her for having sent back his partridges
with so much indifference.
She did not understand what he
meant; and highly offended that he
did not apologize to her for his conduct
after the reprimand which she con-
cluded he had received, told him, that:
70 - MEMOIRS OF
he certainly had met with ladies of very
complying dispositions in his travels,
as he seemed to give himself airs that
she was by no means accustomed to
endure. Matta desired to know, where-
in he could be said to have given him-
self any. ‘Wherein?’ said she: ‘ the
‘second day that you honoured me
‘with your attentions, you treated me
‘as if I had been your humble ser-
‘vant for a thousand years: the first
‘time that I gave you my hand, you
“squeezed it as violently as you were
‘able. After this commencement of
‘ your courtship, I got into my carriage,
‘and you mounted your horse; but,
‘instead of riding by the side of it, as
“any reasonable gallant would have
‘ done, no sooner did a hare start from —
‘her form, than you immediately gal-
‘lopped full speed after her. Having
‘regaled yourself, during the prome-
COUNT GRAMMONT. 71
‘nade, by taking snuff, without ever
‘ deigning to bestow a thought on me,
‘ the only proof you gave me, on your
‘return, that you recollected me, was
‘to solicit me to surrender my repu-
‘tation, in terms polite enough, but
very explicit. And now you talk to
‘me of having been shooting of par-
‘tridges, and of some visit or other,
‘of which, I suppose, you have been
‘ dreaming as well as of all the rest.’
The Chevalier de Grammont now
advanced, to the interruption of this
whimsical dialogue. Matta was re-
buked for his forwardness, and his
friend took abundant pains to convince
him, that his conduct bordered more
upon insolence than familiarity. Matta
endeavoured to exculpate himself, but
with a very bad grace. His mistress,
however, took compassion upon him,
consented to admit his excuses for the
72 MEMOIRS OF
manner, rather than his repentance for
the fact, and declared, that it was the
intention alone, which could either jus-
tify or condemn, in such cases; that it
was very easy to pardon those trans-
eressions which arise from excess of
tenderness, but not such as proceeded
from too great a presumption of suc-
cess. Matta swore, that he only
squeezed her hand from the violence
of his passion, and that he had been
driven, by necessity, to ask her to re-
lieve it; that he was yet a novice in
the arts of solicitation; that he could |
not possibly think her more worthy of
his affection, after a month’s service,
than at the present moment; and he
intreated her to bestow an occasional
thought upon him when her leisure
admitted. ‘The Marchioness was not
offended: she saw very well, that she
must not require an implicit conformity
COUNT GRAMMONT. To
to the established rules of gallantry, .
when she had to deal with such a cha-_
racter; and the Chevalier de Gram-
mont, after this sort of reconciliation,
went to look after his own affair with
Mademoiselle de St. Germain.
__ His interference upon this occasion
was not the offspring of mere good
nature, nay, it was the reverse; for no
sooner did he perceive, that the Mar-
chioness looked with an eye of favour
upon him, than, thinking this con-
quest more easy than the other, he
thought it was prudent to take ad-
vantage of it, for fear of losing the
opportunity, and that he might not
spend all his time to no purpose, in
case he should prove unsuccessful with
the little Saint Germain.
Notwithstanding, in order to main-
tain the authority which he had usurp-
ed over the conduct of his friend, he,
a
74 MEMOIRS OF
that very evening, reprimanded him
for presuming to appear at court m
his morning dress, and without his
mistress’s badge; for not having had
the sense or prudence to pay his first
visit to the Marquis de Senantes, 1n-
stead of consuming his time to no. pur-
pose, in enquiries for the lady; and,
to conclude, he asked him, what the
devil he meant by presenting her with
a brace of miserable red partridges.
“And why not? said Matta: ‘ ought
‘they to have been blue too, to match
‘the cockade and sword-knots you
‘made me wear the other day? Plague
‘not me with your nonsensical whim-
‘sies: my life on it, in one fortnight
‘your equal in foppery and folly will |
‘not be found within the confines of
‘Turi. However, to reply to your
‘questions, I did not call upon Mon-
‘ sieur de Senantes, because I had no-
COUNT -GRAMMONT. 75
‘thing to do with him, and because
‘he is of a species of animals which [
‘detest, and always shall. As for you,
“ you appear quite charmed with being
‘decked out in green ribbands, with
‘writing billets dour to your mistress,
‘and filling your pockets with citrons,
‘ pistachios, and such sort of stuff, with
‘which you are always cramming the
‘poor girl’s mouth, in spite of her
‘teeth: you hope to succeed by chant-
‘ing ditties, composed in the days of
‘ Corrisande and of Henry IV. which
‘you will swear you have composed
‘in her praise: happy in practising the
‘ceremonials of gallantry, you have
‘no ambition for the essentials. Very
‘well: every one has a particular way
‘ of acting, as well as a particular taste ;
‘your's is to trifle in love; and, pro-
‘vided you can make Mademoiselle de
_*$t. Germain laugh, you are satisfied :
76 MEMOIRS: OF ?
‘as for my part, I am persuaded, that
‘women here are made of the same ma-
‘ terials as in other places, and Ido not
‘think that they can be mightily of-
‘fended, if one sometimes leaves off:
‘ trifling, to come to the point. How-
‘ ever, if the Marchioness is not of this:
‘way of thinking, she may e’en provide
‘herself elsewhere; for I can assure her,
‘that I shall not long act the part of
‘her squire.’
This was an unnecessary menace ; .
for the. Marchioness in reality liked
him very well, was nearly of the same
way of thinking herself, and wished
for nothing more than to put his gal-
lantry to. the test; but Matta proceed-
ed upon a wrong plan: he had con-
ceived such an aversion for her hus-
band, that he could not prevail upon
himself to make the smallest advance
towards his good graces. He was given
COUNT GRAMMONT. ih
to understand, that he ought to begin
-by endeavouring to lull the dragon to
sleep, before he could gain possession
of the treasure; but this was all to no
purpose, though, at the same time, he
could never see his mistress but in
public. This made him impatient, and
lamenting his ill-fortune to her one
day: ‘ Have the goodness, madam,’
said he, ‘ to let me know where you
‘live: not a day passes that I do not
‘call upon you, at least, three or four
‘times, without ever being blessed
*with a sight of you. ‘I generally
‘sleep at home,’ replied she, laughing ;
‘but I must tell you, that you will
‘never find me there, if you do not
‘first pay a visit to the Marquis: I am
‘not mistress of the house. I do not
‘tell you, that he is a man, whose
‘acquaintance any one would very im-
‘ patiently covet for his agreeable qua-
73 MEMOIRS OF
‘ities: on the contrary, I agree that
‘his humour is fantastical, and his
‘manners not of the most pleasing
‘cast; but there is nothing so savage
‘and uncouth, which a little care, at-
‘tention, and complaisance, may not
‘tame into docility. I must repeat to
‘ you some verses upon the subject: 1
‘have got them by heart, because they
‘contain a little advice, which you
‘may accommodate, if you please, to
‘ your own case.’
RONDEAU.
Keep in mind these maxims rare,
You who hope to win the fair; :
Who are, or would esteemed be,
The quintessence of gallantry.
That fopp’ry, grinning, and grimace,
And fertile store of common-place;
That oaths as false as dicers swear, x
And ivy’ry teeth, and scented hair;
COUNT. GRAMMONT. 79
That trinkets, and the pride of dress,
Can only give your scheme success,
Keep in mind.
Has thy charmer e’er an aunt!
Then learn the rules of woman’s cant,
And forge a tale, and swear you read it,
Such as, save woman, none would credit:
Win o’er her confidante and pages,
By gold, for this a golden age is;
And should it be her wayward fate,
To be incumbered with a mate,
_ A dull, old dotard should he be,
That dullness claims thy courtesy;
Keep in mind.
‘Truly,’ said Matta, ‘the song may
‘ say what it pleases, but I cannot put
‘it in practice: your husband is far too
exquisite a monster for me. Why,
‘ what a plaguy odd ceremony do you
‘require of us in this country, if we
‘cannot pay our compliments to the
‘wife without being in love with the
‘ husband.
80 MEMOIRS OF
The Marchioness was much of-
fended at this answer; and as she
thought she had done enough in point-
ing out to him the path*which would
conduct him to success, if he had been
worthy of it, she did not think it worth
while to enter into any farther expla-
nation; since he refused to wave, for
her sake, so trifling an objection: from
that instant she resolved to have don
with him. ‘
The Chevalier de Grammont had
taken leave of his mistress nearly at -
the same time: the ardour of his pur-
suit was extinguished. It was not
that Mademoiselle de Saint Germain —
was less worthy than hitherto of his
attentions: on the contrary, her at-
tractions visibly increased: she retired
to her pillow with a thousand charms,
and ever rose from it with additional —
beauty: the phrase of increasing in -
te ls ates — cx
a a OE
COUNT GRAMMONT. 81
beatity as she increased in years, seem-
ed to have been purposely made for
her. ‘The Chevalier could not deny
these truths, but yet he could not find
his account in them: a little less merit,
with a little less discretion, would have
been more agreeable. He perceived
that she listened to him with pleasure,
that she was diverted with his stories
as much as he could wish, and that she
received his billets and presents with-
out scruple; but at the same time he
discovered that she did not wish to pro-
ceed any farther. He had exhausted
every species of address upon her to
no purpose: her attendant was bribed:
her family, fascinated with the magic
of his conversation, and his great atten-
tion, were never happy without him:
in short, he had reduced to practice
eyery tittle of the advice contained in
the Marchioness’s song, and every thing
VOL. I, G
82 . MEMOIRS OF
conspired to deliver the little Saint Ger-
main into his hands, if the little Saint
Germain had herself been willing; but
alas! she was not inclined,- It was in
vain, he told her that the favour he
desired would cost her nothing; and
that as the treasures, the possession of
which he so eagerly coveted, were
rarely comprised in the fortune a lady —
brings with her in marriage, she would
never find any person, who, by unre-
mitting tenderness, unwearied attach-
ment, and inviolable secrecy, would
prove more worthy of them than him-
self. In vain did he tell her, that no
husband was ever able to convey a
proper idea of the sweets of love,
and that nothing could be more dif-
ferent than the passionate fondness of
a lover, always tender, always affec-
tionate, yet always respectful, and
the careless indifference of a hus-
band. Mademoiselle de Saint Germain,
COUNT GRAMMONT. 83
not wishing to take the matter m a
serious light, that she might not be
forced to resent it, answered, that
as it was generally the custom in
her country to marry, she thought it
was tight to conform to it, without
entering into the knowledge of those
distinctions, and those marvellous par-
ticulars which she did not very well
understand, and of which she did not.
wish to have any further explanation;
that she had submitted to listen to him
this one time, but desired he would
never speak to her again in the same
strain, since such sort of conversation
was neither entertaining to her, nor
eould be serviceable to him.
Though no one was ever more
facetious than Mademoiselle de Saint
Germain, she yet knew how to assume
a very serious air, whenever occasion
required it. The Chevalier de Gram-
84: - MEMOIRS OF
mont soon saw that she was in earnest;
and finding it would cost him a great
deal of time to effect a change in her
sentiments, he was so far cooled in this
pursuit, that he only made use of it to
conceal: the designs he had upon the
Marchioness de Senantes..
He found this lady much apis
with Matta, whose: want of complai-
sance and seeming contempt for her,
had erased every favourable impression
whichshe had once entertained for him.
While she was in this humour, the Che- -
valier told her, that her resentment was
just; he exaggerated the loss which his
friend had sustained; he told her that —
her charms were a thousand times su--
perior to those of the little Saint Ger-
main, and requested that favour for
himself which his friend had shewn
himself unworthy of. He was soon
favourably heard upon this topic; and.
~ coh - EN F ae 7
ee Se -
COUNT GRAMMONT. 85
as soon as they were agreed, they con-
sulted upon the measures necessary to
be taken, by the one to deceive her
husband, and by the other to outwit
his friend, neither of which was very
difficult: Matta was not at all suspici-
ous; and the stupid Senantes, towards
whom the Chevalier had already be-
haved, as Matta had refused to do, could
not be happy without him. This how-
ever was rather more than the Chevalier
wanted; for as soon as ever he was with
the Marchioness, her husband immedi-
ately joined them out of politeness; and
on no account would have left them
alone together, for fear they should
grow weary of each other without him.
Matta, who all this time was per-
fectly unconscious of his disgrace,
continued to serve his mistress in his
own way: she had agreed with the
Chevalier de Grammont, that to all
appearance every thing should be car-
86 MEMOIRS OF
ried on as before, that the court might
still believe, that the Marchioness
only thought of Matta, and that the -
Chevalier was entirely devoted to Ma- -
demoiselle de Saint Germain,
There were very frequently little -
lotteries of trinkets: the Chevalier de
Grammont always tried his fortune,
and was sometimes fortunate; and
under pretence of the prizes he had
won, he bought a thousand things
which he indiscreetly gave to the
Marchioness, and which she still more
indiscreetly accepted; the little Saint
Germain very seldom received any
thing. There are meddling whisperers
every where: remarks were made upon
these proceedings; and the same per-
son that made them, communicated
them likewise to Mademoiselle de
Saint Germain. She pretended to
laugh, but in reality was piqued. It is
ee a
COUNT GRAMMONT. 87
a maxim religiously observed by the
fair sex, to envy each other those in-
dulgences which themselves refuse.
She took this very ill of the Marchio-
‘ness. On the other hand, Matta was
asked, if he was not old enough to
make his own presents himself to the
Marchioness de Senantes, without
sending them by the Chevalier de
Grammont. ‘This roused him; for, of
himself, he would never have per-
ceived it: his suspicions, however,
were but slight, and he was willing to.
have them removed. ‘I must confess,’
said he to the Chevalier de Grammont,
‘that they make love here quite in a
“new style: aman serves here without
‘reward: he addresses himself to the
‘husband when he is in love with the
‘wife, and makes presents to another
‘man’s mistress, to get into the good
‘ graces of his own. The Marchioness
88 MEMOIRS OF
‘is much obliged to you for——‘ It is |
‘ you who are obliged, replied the Che-
‘valier, since this was done on your
‘account: I was ashamed to find you
‘ had never yet thought of presenting
‘her with any trifling token of your
‘regard; Do you know that the peo-
‘ ple of this court have such extraordi-
‘nary notions, as to think that it is
* rather owing to inadvertency that you
‘never yet have had the spirit to make
‘your mistress the smallest present?
¢ For shame! how ridiculous it is, that
‘ you can never think for yourself.
Matta took this rebuke, without
making any answer, being persuaded
that he had in some measure deserved
it: besides, he was neither sufficiently
jealous, nor sufficiently amorous, to
think any more of it; however, as it
was necessary for the Chevalier’s pur-
poses, that Matta should be acquainted
COUNT ‘GRAMMONT. 89
with the Marquis de Senantes, he
plagued him so much about it, that at
last he complied. His friend intro-
duced him, and his mistress seemed
pleased with this proof of complai-
-sance, though she was resolved that
he should gain nothing by it; and the
husband, being gratified with a piece
of civility ih he had long expected,
determined, that very evening, to give
them a supper at a little country seat
of his, on the banks of the river, very
near the city,
The Chevalier de Grammont an-
swering for them both, accepted the
offer; and as this was the only one
Matta would not have refused from the
Marquis, he likewise consented. The
Marquis came to convey them in his
carriage at the hour appointed ; but he
found only Matta. The Chevalier had
engaged himself to play, on purpose
90 | | MEMOIRS OF
that they might go without him:
Matta was for waiting for him, so
great was his fear of being left alone
with the Marquis; but the Chevalier
having sent to desire them to go on
before, and that he would be with
them as soon as he had finished his
game, poor Matta was obliged to set
out with the man, who, of all the
world, was most offensive to him. It
was not the Chevalier’s intention to
extricate him very quickly out of this
embarrassment: he no sooner knew
that they were gone, than he waited
on the Marchioness, .under pretence of
still finding her husband, that they
might all go together to supper.
The plot was in a fair way; and as
the Marchioness was of opinion that
Matta’s indifference merited no better
treatment from her, she made. no
scruple of acting her part in it: she
COUNT GRAMMONT. 91
therefore waited for the Chevalier de
‘Grammont with intentions so much
the more favourable, as she had for a
long time expected him, and had some
curiosity to receive a visit from him in
the absence of her husband. We may
therefore suppose that this first oppor-
tunity would not have been lost, if
Mademoiselle de Saint Germain had
not unexpectedly come in, almost at
the same time with the Chevalier.
She was more handsome and more
entertaining that day, than she had
ever been before; however, she ap-
peared to them both very ugly, and very
tiresome: she soon perceived that her
company was disagreeable, and being
determined that they should not be
out of humour with her for nothing,
after having passed above a long half
hour in diverting herself with their
uneasiness, and in playing a thousand
99, - MEMOIRS OF
monkey tricks, which she plainly saw
could never be more unseasonable, she
pulled off her hood, scarf, and all that
part of her dress which ladies lay aside,
when in a familiar manner they intend |
to pass the. day any where. The Che-
valier de Grammont cursed. her in his
heart, while she continued to torment
him for being in such ill-humour in
such good company: at last the
Marchioness, who was as much vexed
as he was, said rather drily, that she
was obliged to wait on her Royal High-
ness: Mademoiselle de Saint Germain
told her, that she would have the ho-
nour to accompany her, if it would not
be disagreeable: she took not the
smallest notice of her offer; and the
Chevalier, finding that it would be
entirely useless to prolong his visit
at that time, retired with a good
grace,
COUNT GRAMMONT. 93
As soon as he had left the house,
he sent one of his scouts to desire the
Marquis to sit down to table with his
company without waiting for him, be-
cause the game might not perhaps. be
finished so soon as he expected, but
that he would be with him before sup-
per was over. Having dispatched this
messenger, he placed a centinel at the
Marchioness’s door, in hopes that the
tedious Saint Germain might go out
before her; but this was in vain, for
his spy came and told him, after an
hour’s impatience and suspense, that
they were gone out together. Find-
ing there was no chance of seeing
her again that day, every thing falling
out so contrary to his wishes: he was
forced in consequence to leave the
Marchioness, and go in quest of her
husband.
While these things were going on
94 | MEMOIRS OF
in the city, Matta was not much better
diverted in the country: as he was pre-
judiced against the Marquis, all that
he said displeased him: he cursed the
Chevalier heartily for the téte-a-téte
which he had procured him; and he
was upon the point of going away,
when he found that he was to sit
down to supper without any other
company. |
However, as his host was very
choice in his entertainments, and had
the best wine, and the best cook in all
Piedmont, the sight of the first course
appeased him; and eating most vora-
ciously, without paying any attention
to the Marquis, he flattered himself
that the supper would end without mane
dispute; but he was mistaken.
When the Chevalier de Grammont |
first endeavoured to bring about ‘an
intercourse between the Marquis and
—
—* .
COUNT GRAMMONT. 95
Matta, he had given a very advan-
tageous character of the latter, to make
the former more desirous of his ac-
quaintance; and in the display of a
thousand other accomplishments, know-
ing what a veneration the Marquis had
for the very name of Learning, he had
assured him that Matta was one of
the best scholars in Europe.
The Marquis, therefore, from the
moment they sat down to supper, had
expected some stroke of learning from
Matta, to bring his own into play;
but he was much out in his reckoning:
no one had read less, no one thought
less, and no one had ever spoken so
little at an entertainment as Matta had
done: as he had no wish to enter into
conversation, he opened his mouth
only to eat, or to call for wine.
The other, being offended at a
silence which appeared to him affected,
96 MEMOIRS OF >:
and wearied with having uselessly”
attacked him upon other subjects,’
thought he might get something out
of him by changing the discourse. to.
love and gallantry; and therefore, to
begin the subject, he accosted him in °
this manner: 1 fines arbre '
‘Since you are my wife’s gallant—
‘I! said Matta, who wished to carry.
it discreetly: ‘ those who told you so,
‘ told a damned lie.’ ‘ Zounds, sir,’ said: ~
the Marquis, ‘youspeak ina tone which
‘does not at all become you; for 1...
‘would have you to know, notwith-
‘ standing your contemptuous airs, thato:
‘the Marchioness de Senantes is per-i ”
‘haps as worthy of your attentions as”
‘any of your French ladies, andothat. ©
‘I have known some. greatly your su-._
‘periors, who have thought it an ho-. ~
‘nour to serve her.’. ‘ Very well,’ said
‘ Matta, I thik she is. very. desery=»
>
ata ae
ee eee ee ee ee
oe ee oe ee
COUNT GRAMMONT. 07
ing, and since you insist upon it, I am
‘ her servant and gallant to oblige you.’
© You think perhaps,’ continued the
other, ‘ that the same custom prevails
‘in this country which does in your
‘own, and that the ladies have lovérs,
‘ with no other intentions than to grant
‘them favours: undeceive yourself. if
‘you please, and know likewise, that
‘even if such events were frequent in
‘ this court, I should not be at all un-
‘easy. ‘ Nothing can be more civil,’
said Matta, ‘ but wherefore would you
‘not be uneasyr’ ‘I will tell you why,’
replied he: ‘I am well acquainted with
‘the affection my wife entertains for
‘me; I am acquainted with her dis-
* cretion towards all the world; and,
‘what is more, I am acquainted with
‘my own merit.’
‘You havea most uncommon ac-
‘ quaintance then,’ replied Matta, ‘I
VOL. I. H
98 .. MEMOIRS OF
‘ congratulate you upon it; I have the
“‘ honour to drink it in a bumper.’ The
Marquis pledged him; but seeing ‘that
the conversation dropped on their
ceasing to drink, after two or three
healths, he wished to make a second
attempt, and attack Matta on his
strong side, that is to wigs on ae
learning.
He desired him, hea to tell
him, at what time he thought the
Allobroges came to settle in Piedmont.
Matta, who wished him and his Al-
_lobroges at the devil, said, that it
must be in the time of the civil wars,
‘I doubt that,- said the other.’ ‘ Just
‘as you. like,’ said Matta. ‘ Under
‘ what consulate? replied the Marquis:
‘under that.of the league,’ said Matta,
‘when the Guises brought the Lans-
‘quenets into France; but what the
‘ devil does that-signify? <0. 0+.
COUNT GRAMMONT. 99
The Marquis was tolerably warm,
and naturally savage, so that God
knows how the conversation would
have ended, if the Chevalier de Gram-.
mont had not unexpectedly come in
to appease them. It was some. time
before he could find out what their
debate was; for the one had forgotten
the questions, and the other the an-
swers, which had disobliged him, in
order to reproach the Chevalier with
his eternal passion for play, which
made him never to. be depended on.
The Chevalier, who knew that he was
still more culpable than they thought,
bore it all with patience, and condemned
himself even more than they desired.
This appeased them; and the entertain-
ment ended with greater tranquillity
than it had begun: the conversation
was again reduced to order; but the
Chevalier could not enliven it as he
100 _ MEMOIRS OF |
usually did: he was in very ill humour,
and as he pressed them every minute
to rise from table, the Marquis was of
opinion that he had lost a great deal.
‘Matta said, on the contrary, that he
had won; but for want of precautions
had perhaps made an unfortunate re-
treat, and asked him if he had not
stood in need of Serjeant La sain
with his ambuscade.
This piece of history was beyond
the comprehension of the Marquis,
-and being afraid that Matta might ex-
plain it, the Chevalier changed the
discourse, and was for rising from
table; but Matta would not consent
to it. This effected a reconciliation
between him and the Marquis, who
thought this was a piece of civility in-
tended for him; however, it was not
for him, but for his wine, to which
Matta had taken a prodigious liking.
COUNT GRAMMONT. 101
_ Madame Royale, who knew the cha-
racter of the Marquis, was charmed
with the account which the Chevalier
de Grammont gave her of the enter-
tainment and conversation: she sent
for Matta to know the truth of it from
himself: he confessed, that before the
Allobroges were mentioned, the Mar-
quis was for quarrelling with him, be-
cause he was not in love with his
wife,
_ Their acquaintance having begun
in this manner, all the esteem which
the Marquis had formerly expressed
for the Chevalier seemed to be trans-
ferred to Matta: he went every day to
pay Matta a visit, and Matta was
every day with his wife. This did not
at all suit the Chevalier: he repented
of his having chid Matta, whose assi-
duity now interrupted all his schemes;
and the Marchioness was still more
1o2 . “ oMEMOIRS OF.
embarrassed. Whatever wit a man
may have; it will never please where
his company is disliked; and she re-
pented that she had formerly been ~
guilty of some trifling advances to him.
Matta beyan to find charms in her
person, and might have found the same
in her conversation, if she had been
inclined to display them; but it is im-
possible to be in goed humour with
persons who thwart our designs. While
his passion was daily increasing for
her, the Chevalier de Grammont was
entirely occupied in endeavouring: to
find out some method, by which he
might accomplish his wishes; and this
was the stratagem which he put in
execution, to clear the coast, by re-
moving at one and the same time both
the lover and the husband. | 7
* He told Matta, that they must
invite the Marquis to supper at their
COUNT GRAMMONT. 103
lodgings, and that he would take upon
himself to provide every thing proper
for the occasion. Matta desired to
know if it was to play at quinze, and
assured him that he should take care
to render abortive any imtention he
might have to engage in play, and
leave him alone with the greatest
blockhead in all Europe. The Cheva-
her de Grammont did not entertain
any such thought, being persuaded
that it would be impossible to take
advantage of this opportunity, in
whatever manner he might take his
measures, and that they would seek
for him in every corner of the city
rather than allow him the. least repose.
His whole. attention was therefore em-
ployed in rendering the entertainment
agreeable, in finding out means of pro-
longing it, in order ultimately to kindle
some dispute between the Marquis and
104 “MEMOIRS -OF «—
Matta. For this purpose he: put him-
self in the best humour in the world,
and the wine produced. the same effect:
on the rest of the company. oll
‘The Chevalier de Gresnnitisiniies
pressed his concern, that he had not
been able to give the Marquis a little
concert, as he had intended in the
morning; for the musicians had been
all pre-engaged. Upon this the Mar-
quis undertook to have them at his
country-house the following evening,
and invited the same company to sup
with him. there. Matta asked what
the devil. they wanted with music,
and maintained, that it was of no:use
on such occasions, but for womem who
had something to say to their lovers,
while the fiddles prevented them from
being overheard, or for fools: who: had —
nothing to say, when the music ceased.
They ridiculed-all his arguments: the
COUNT ‘GRAMMONT. 105
party was:fixed for the next day, and
the music was voted by the majority
of voices. “The Marquis, to console
Matta, as well as to do honour to the
entertainment, toasted a great many
healths: Matta was more ready to
listen to his arguments on this topic
than in a dispute; but the Chevalier;
perceiving that a little would irritate
them, desired nothing more earnestly
than to: see them engaged in some
new controversy. It was in vain that
he had from time to time started some
subject of discourse with this inten-
tion; but having luckily thought of
asking what was his lady’s maiden
name, Senantes, who was a great ge-
nealogist, as all fools are who have
good memories, immediately began by
tracing’ out her family, by an endless
confused string of lineage. The Che-
valier ‘seemed to listen to him with
106 - MEMOIRS OF
great attention; and perceiving’ that
Matta was almost out of patience, he
requested him to attend to what the
Marquis was saying, for that nothing
could be more entertainmg. All this
may be very true, said Matta; but for
my part, I must confess, if I were
married, I should rather chuse to know
who was the real father of my chil-
dren, than who were my wife's grand-
fathers. The Marquis sneering at his
rudeness, did not leave off until he
had traced back the ancestors of his
spouse, from lime to line, as far as
Yolande de Senantes: after this, he
offered to prove, in less than half an
hour, that the Grammonts came ori-
ginally from Spain. Very well, said
Matta, and pray what does it signify
to us from. whence the Grammonts —
are descended? Do not you know, my
Lord Marquis, that it is better to
COUNT GRAMMONT. 107
know nothing at all, than to know too
much?
The Marquis maintained the con-
trary with great warmth, and was pre-
paring to enter into a formal argu-
ment, to prove that an ignorant man
is a fool; but the Chevalier de Gram-
mont, who was thoroughly acquainted
with Matta, saw very clearly that he
would send the logician to the devil,
before he should ever arrive at the
conclusion of his syllogism. For which
reason, interposing as soon as they
began to raise their voices, he told
them, it was ridiculous to quarrel
about an affair in itself so trivial, and
treated the matter in a serious light,
that it might make the greater im-
pression. Thus supper terminated
peaceably, owing to the care he took
to prevent all disputes, and to ‘substi-
tute plenty of wine in their stead.
@
108 _ MEMOIRS OF
.. The next day Matta went to the
chase, the Chevalier de Grammont to
the bagnio, and the Marquis to his
country house: while the latter was
making the necessary preparations for
his guests, not forgetting the. music,
and Matta pursuing his game. to get
an appetite, the Chevalier was. medi-
tating on the execution of his project.:
As soon as he had regulated, his
plan of operations, he privately sent
anonymous intelligence to the officer
of the guard at the palace, that the
Marquis de Senantes had had some
words with Monsieur de Matta the
preceding night at supper, thatthe one
had gone out in the morning, and that:
the other could not be found in. the
Madam Royale, alarmed at this in-
information, immediately sent for the.
Chevalier de Grammont.—He_ appear-
COUNT GRAMMONT. 109
ed surprized when her highness men-
tioned the affair: he confessed indeed
that some high words had passed be-
tween them, but that he did not be-
lieve either of them would have re-
membered them the next day. He
said, that if no mischief had yet taken
place, the best way would be to secure
them both until the morning, and that
if they could be found, he would un-
dertake to reconcile them, and to ob-
literate all grievances: in this there
was no great difficulty. On enquiry
at the Marquis’s, they were informed
that he was gone to his country-house:
there certainly he was, and there they:
found him; the officer put him under
an arrest, without assigning any reason’
for so doing, and left pas in pieces
cere surprize. ;
Immediately upon Matta’s return
from hunting, her Royal Highness sent
dip” MEMOIRS OF ©
the same officer to desire him to give
her his word that he would not stir
out that evening. This compliment
very much surprized him, more par-
ticularly as no reason was assigned for
it. He was expected at a good enter-
tainment, he was dying with hunger,
and nothing appeared to him more un-
reasonable than to oblige him to stay
at home, in a situation like the pre-
sent; but he had given his word, and
not knowing to what this might tend,
his only resource was to send: for. his
friend; but his friend did not come to
him until his return from the country.
He had there found the Marquis in
the midst of his fiddlers, and very
much vexed to find, himself a prisoner
in his own house-on account of Matta,
whom he was waiting for in order to —
feast him: he complained of him bit-
terly to. the Chevalier de Grammont: _
COUNT GRAMMONT, Ebh
he said that-he did not believe that he
had offended him; but that since he
was very desirous of a quarrel, he de-
sired the Chevalier to acquaint him, if
he felt the least displeasure on the
present occasion, he should, on, the
very first opportunity, receive satis-
faction. The Chevalier de Grammont
assured him, that no such thought had
ever entered the mind of Matta; that
on. the contrary he knew, that he very
very greatly esteemed him; that all
this could alone rise from the extreme
tenderness of his lady, who being
alarmed upon the report of the servants
who waited at table, must have gone
to her Royal Highness, in order to
prevent any unpleasant consequences ;
that he thought this the more probable,
as he had often told the Marchioness,
when speaking of Matta, that he was
_ the best swordsman in France; for in
112 - MEMOIRS OF
truth the poor gentleman had never
fought without having the misfortane
of killing his man.
The Marquis, a little roe said,
he was very much obliged to him, that
he would severely chide his wife for
her unseasonable tenderness, and that
he was extremely desirous of again
enjoying the pleasure of his dear friend
Matta’s company.
The Chevalier de Grammont as-
sured him that he would use all his
endeavours for that purpose, and at
his departure gave strict charge to his
guard not to let him escape without
orders from the court, as he seemed
fully bent upon fighting, and they
would be responsible for him: there
was no occasion to say more to have
him strictly watched, though there
was no necessity for it.
One being thus safely i inh nds
_ COUNT. GRAMMONT. 113
hext step was to secure the other: he
‘returned immediately to town ;, and as
soon as Matta saw him: ‘ What the
* devil, said he, is the meaning of this
«farce which Iam obliged to act? for
“my part I ‘cannot understand. the —
‘ foolish:customs of this country: how
“comes it that they make me.a prisoner
‘upon my parole >. How comes it, said
‘the Chevalier de‘Grammont, it is be-
“cause you yourself are far more un-
‘accountable than all their customs :
‘you cannot ‘help disputing. with a
‘ peevish fellow, whom you ought'only
‘to Jaugh at: some officious footman
‘has no doubt been talking of your
‘Jast night’s dispute: you Were seen
“to igo out of town in: the ‘morning,
“and the Marquis soonafter: was not
‘this sufficient..to make: her Royal
‘ Highness think herself ‘obliged. to
‘take.these precautions? The. Marquis
VOL. I. I
lee MEMOIRS OF
‘is in custody; they have only re-
‘quired your parole; so far therefore,
‘from taking the affair in the sense
‘you do, I should send very humbly
‘to thank her highness for the kind-
‘ness which she has manifested to-
‘wards you, in putting you under ar-
‘rest, since it is only on your account —
‘ that she interests herself in the affair.
‘I shall take a walk to the palace,
‘where I will endeavour to unravel
‘ this mystery : in the mean time, as
‘ there is but little probability that the
‘matter will be settled this evening,
‘ you will do well to order supper; for
‘I shall come back to you immedi-
‘ ately.’ ds
Matta charged him not to fail to
express to her Royal Highness the;
grateful sense he had of her favour,
though in truth he as little feared the
Marquis, as he loved him; and it is
COUNT GRAMMONT. 115
impossible to express the degree of his
fortitude in stronger terms.
The Chevalier de Grammont re-
turned in about half an hour, with
two or three gentlemen whom Matta
had got acquainted with at the chase,
and who, upon the report of the quar-
rel, waited upon him, and each offered
him separately his services against the
unassisted and pacific Marquis. Matta
having returned them his thanks, in-
sisted upon their staying supper, and
put on his robe de chambre.
As soon as the Chevalier de Gram-
mont perceived that every thing went
on according to his wishes, and that
towards the end of the entertainment
the toasts went merrily round, he knew
he was sure of his man till next day:
then taking him aside, with the per-
mission of the company, .and-making
use of a false confidence in order to
116 - WEMOIRS OF >
disguise a real treachery, he acquainted —
him, after having sworn him’ several
times to secrecy, that he had at last
prevailed upon the little Saint Ger-
main.to grant him an interview that
night; for which reason he would take
his leave, under pretence of going to
play at court; he therefore desired
him fully to satisfy the company that
he would not have left them on any
other account, as the Piedmontese are
naturally mistrustful. Matta promised
he would manage this pomt with dis-
cretion; that he would make an apo-
logy for him, and that there was no
occasion for his personally taking
leave: then, after congratulating him
upon the happy posture of his affairs,
he sent him away with all the expedi-
tion and secrécy imaginable; so great
was his fear lest his friend should Jose
the present opportunity.
COUNT GRAMMONT. 117
_ Matta then returned to the com-
pany, much pleased with the con-
fidence which had been reposed in him,
and with the share he had in the suc-
cess of this adventure: he put himself
into the best humour imaginable in
order to divert the attention of his
- guests: he severely satirized those
whose rage for gaming induced them
to sacrifice to it every other consi-
deration: he loudly ridiculed the folly
of the Chevalier upon this article, and
secretly laughed at the credulity of the
Piedmontese, whom he had deceived
with so much ingenuity.
It :-was very late before the com-
pany broke up, and Matta went to
bed, very well satisfied with what. he
had done for his friend; and, if we
may credit appearances, this friend
enjoyed the fruit of his perfidy. The
amorous Marchioness received him
118 MEMOIRS OF.
like one who wished to enhance the
value of the favour she bestowed: her
charms were far from being neglected; —
and if there are some cases in which
we may detest the traitor, while we
profit by the treason, this is not to be
considered one of them. And how-
ever successful the Chevalier de Gram-
mont was in his intrigues, it was not
owing to him that the contrary was
not believed; be that however as it
may, being convinced, that in love
whatever is gained by address,’ is
gained fairly, it does not appear that
he ever shewed the smallest degree of
repentance for this trick. But it is
now time for us to take him from the
court of Savoy, to see him shine in
that of France. :
COUNT GRAMMONT. 119
CHAPTER V.
"Tue Chevalier de Grammont, upon
his return to France, sustained, with
the greatest success, the reputation he
had acquired abroad: alert at play,
active and vigilant in love ; sometimes
successful, and always feared, in his
intrigues ; in war alike prepared for
the events of good or ill fortune; pos-
sessing an inexhaustible fund of plea-
santry in the former, and full of ex- .
pedients and dexterity in the latter.
Zealously attached to the Prince
de Condé from inclination, he was a
witness, and, if we may be allowed
to say it, his companion, in the glory
he had acquired at the celebrated bat-
tles of Lens, Norlinguen, and Fri-
bourg ; and the details he so frequently
120 MEMOIRS OF | -
gave of them, were far from diminish-
ing their lustre.
So long ashe had only scruples of —
conscience, and some interests to Sa=
crifice, he quitted all to follow.a man,
whom strong motives and resentments,
which i some manner appeated ex-
cusablé, had withdrawn from the
paths of rectitude. © He: adhered to
him in his first disgrace, ‘with a cotis
stancy of which there are few ex-
amples; but he could not submit to
the injuries which ‘he afterwards °re:
ceived, and which ‘such an inviolable
attachment so little merited: There-
fore, without fearing any reproach for
a conduct which sufficiently justified
itself, as he. ‘had formerly deviated
from his duty, by entering into the
service: of the Prince de Condé, he
thought he had a right to leave him to
return again to-his duty. © |
COUNT GRAMMONT. 191
His peace was soon made at court,
where many, far more culpable than
himself, were immediately received |
into favour, when they desired it: for
the Queen, still terrified at the dangers
into which the civil wars had plunged
the state at the commencement of her
regency, endeavoured by lenient mea-
‘sures to conciliate the minds of. the
people. The policy of the: minister
was neither sanguinary nor revengeful :
his favourite maxims were, rather to
appease the minds of the discontented
by lenity, than to have recourse to
violent measures; to be content with
losing nothing by the war, without
being at the expense of gaining any
advantage from the enemy; to suffer
his character to be very severely han-
dled, provided he could amass much
wealth, and to spin out the minority
to the greatest possible extent.
122 MEMOIRS OF
_ His avidity to heap up riches did
not confine itself to the thousand dif-
ferent means, with which he was fur-
nished by his authority, and the situ-
ation in which he was placed: his
whole pursuit was gain: he was natu-
rally fond of gaming; but he only
played to enrich himself, and there-
fore, whenever he found an opportu-
nity, he cheated. :
‘As he found the Chevalier de
Grammont possessed of infinite wit,
and plenty of money, he was a man
according to his wishes, and soon be-
came one of his set. The Chevalier
soon perceived the artfulness and dis-
honesty of the Cardinal, and thought.
it was allowable in him to put in prac-
tice those talents which he had re-
ceived from nature, not only in’ his
own defence, but even to attack him
whenever an opportunity offered. This
COUNT GRAMMONT. 123
would certainly be the place to men-
tion these particulars; but who can
describe them with such ease and ele-
gance, as may be expected by those
who have already heard his own rela-
tion of them? Vain is the attempt to
endeavour to transcribe these enter-
taining anecdotes: their spirit seems
to evaporate upon paper ; and in what-
ever light they are exposed, the deli-
cacy of their colouring, and_ their
beauty, is lost. iF
It will be sufficient to say, that
upon all occasions where address was
reciprocally employed, the Chevalier
had the advantage; and that if he paid
his court badly to the minister, he had
~ the consolation to find, that those who
suffered themselves to be cheated, in
the end were badly repaid for their
complaisance ; for they always con-
tinued in a state of abject submission,
124 -' MEMOIRS OF
while the Chevalier de’ Grammont, on
a thousand ‘different occasions, never
put himself under the least restraint:
Of which the’ Bigs is one in-
stance :
~The Spanish’ army, ateelaniiteal big
the Prince de Condé and the Arch-
duke, besieged’ Arras.” ‘The court had
advanced’ as far as Peronne. The
enemy, by the’ capture of this place,
would have procured a ‘reputation for
their army, of which it stood in great
need ;.as the French, for'a considerable
time past, had evinced a superiority in
Pah engagement. a
The Prince supported a dehag
party, as much as their usual inactivity
and irresolution permitted him; but as
in the events of war it is necessary to
act independently on some occasions,
which, if once suffered to escape, can
never be retrieved; for want of this
COUNT GRAMMONT. 125
power it frequently happened that ‘his
great abilities were of no avail. The
Spanish infantry had never recovered
the defeat of Rocroy; and he who had
ruined them ‘by that victory, by fight-
ing against them, was the only man
who now, by commanding their army,
was capable of repairing the mischief
he had done them. But the jealousy
of the generals, and the distrust at-
tendant upon their counsels, tied up his
hands. ie
Nevertheless the siege ee Arras was
beens carried on. ‘The Cardinal
was. very sensible how dishonourable
it would be to suffer this place to be
taken under his nose, and almost in
sight of the king. On the other hand,
it was very hazardous: to attempt its
relief, the Prince de Condé being a
man who never neglected the smallest
precaution for the security of his lines:
196 MEMOIRS OF
and if lines are. attacked, and not —
forced, the greatest danger threatens
the assailants. For the more furious
the assault, the greater is the disorder —
in the retreat ; and no man in the world
knew so well as the prince how: to
make the best of an advantage. The
army, commanded by Monsieur de
Turenne, was considerably weaker
than that of the enemy; it was like- |
wise the only resource they had to de-
pend upon. If this army was defeated,
the loss of Arras was not the mia mis-
fortune to be dreaded. |
‘The Cardinal, whose talents were
well adapted to junctures where de-
ceitful negociations could extricate
him out of difficulties, was filled with
terror at the sight of imminent danger,
or of a decisive event: he was of opi- —
nion that it would be advisable to lay
siege to some other place, the capture
COUNT GRAMMONT. 127
of which might prove an indemnifica-
tion for the loss of Arras; but Mon-
sieur de Turenne, who differed entirely
from the Cardinal, resolved to march
towards the enemy, and did not ac-
quaint him with his intentions until
he was upon his march. The courier
arrived in the midst of the Cardinal’s
distress, and redoubled his apprehen-
sions and alarms; but there was then
no remedy.
The Marshal, whose great reputa-
tion had gained him the confidence of
the troops, had determined upon his
measures before an express order from
the court could prevent him. This
was one of those occasions, in which
the difficulties encountered heighten
the glory of success. Though the
general’s capacity, in some measure,
afforded comfort to the court, they
128 MEMOIRS (OF
soauloa were upon thie eve sof tn :
event,. which in one way or other mu: st 4 a
terminate both their. hopes. and - their ae
fears. ‘While the rest of ‘the courtiers: “ ;
were: giving various opinions concern- at
ing the issue, ‘the Chevalier:'de Gram-
mont determined ‘to bean eye-witness i
of it; a resolution which greatly sur-
prised ‘the court; for those, who had
seen as'many actions ashe had, seemed __
to be exempted from such. eagerness;
but it was in vain that - fiends OP:
posed: his resolutions. Bw
The king was ipleabed witie hiss ‘in-
tention; and the queen appeared ‘no
less satisfied. He assured her, thathe
would bring her good news; and she
promised to embrace him, if he was as
-goodas his word. . The Cardinal made
the same promise: to’the latter, how-
ever, he did not pay much attention ;
Jtlyester fc. F
LE MARES CHALDE HUMIERES.
: Pub, July,r.1006, by John White, Fleet 8° d&eJohn Scott. Strand 3
_ COUNT GRAMMONT. 129
yet he believed it sincere, because
the keeping of it would cost him
ae
__ He set out in the dusk of the even-
2 ing with Caseau, whom Monsieur de
_ Turenne had sent express to their Ma-
i _ jesties. The Duke of York, and the
Marquis d’Humiéres, commanded un-
_. der the Marshal: the latter was upon
duty when the Chevalier arrived, it
being scarce day-light. The Duke of
? York did not at first recollect him;
but the Marquis d'Humitres, running
to him with open arms, ‘I thought,’
said he, ‘if any man came from court
‘to pay us a visit upon such an occa-
‘sion as this, it would be the Cheva-
‘lier de Grammont. Well, what are
‘they doing at Peronne?’ ‘ They are
‘in great consternation,’ replied the
Chevalier. ‘And what do they think
‘of us?’ ‘They think,’ said Gram-
VOL. I. K
130 © ? MEMOIRS OF
mont, ‘ that if you beat. i Prince,
‘ you ‘all do no more than your daeey %e
‘if you are beaten, they will think —
‘you fools and madmen, thus to have ~
‘risqued every thing, without con-
‘sidering the consequences.’ ‘ Tru-
‘ly,’ said the Marquis, ‘ you bring
‘us very comfortable news: Will you
‘now go to Monsieur de Turenne’s ©
‘quarters, to acquaint him with it;
‘or will you choose rather to repose ~
‘yourself in mine? for you have been
‘ riding post all last night, and perhaps
‘did not experience much rest in
‘the preceding.’ ‘Where have you —
‘heard, that the Chevalier de Gram-
‘mont had ever any occasion for
‘ sleep?’ replied he: “ only order me
‘a horse, ‘that I may have the honour _
‘to attend the Duke of York; for,
‘most likely, he is not in the field so
‘ early, except to visit some posts.”
COUNT GRAMMONT. 131
The advanced guard «was only at
cannon shot from that of the enemy.
As soon as they arrived there, ‘ I
‘ should like,’ said the Chevalier de
-Grammont, ‘ to advance as far as the
“sentry which is posted on that emi-
‘nence: I have some friends and ac-
‘quaintance in their army, whom I
‘should wish to enquire after: the
‘ Duke of York will, Iam sure, grant
‘me permission. At these words,
he. advanced. The centinel, see-
ing him come. forward directly to
his post, stood upon his guard: the
Chevalier stopped as soon as he was
within shot of him. The centinel an-
swered the sign which was made to
him, and made another to the officer,
who had begun to advance as soon as
he had seen the Chevalier come. for-
ward, and was soon up with him;
but, seeing. the Chevalier de Gram-
152 MEMOIRS OF
mont alone, he made no difficulty to_
let him approach. He desired leave of
this officer, to enquire after some re-
lations he had in their army, and at
the same time asked, if the Duke.
d’Arscot was at the siege. ‘ Sir,’
said he, ‘ there he is, just alighted —
‘under those trees which you see on
‘the left of our grand guard: it is
‘hardly a minute since he was here
‘with the Prince d’Aremberg, his
‘brother, the Baron de ‘Limbec, and
‘Louvigny.’ ‘May I see them upon ©
‘parole?’ said the Chevalier. ‘ Sir,
said he, ‘if I were allowed to quit my
‘post, I would do myself the honour
‘of accompanying you thither; but I
‘ will send to acquaint them, that the
‘Chevalier de Grammont desires to
‘speak with them.’ And, after hav- .
ing dispatched one of his guard to-
wards them, he returned. ‘ Sir,’ said
eatin weyerreh sven vee ae we IRMreny be HV iP eehe MYT ate Dreamer shy neremn iene:
ed eet ee eee ere ere ts
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at een anne at Hite Sasa ty Aatel at yt at a%y tatata ta tat atat ot ata Ses at tea as etetet ess
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ate hate tet Al ahahaha at a atad tata iat atte
SAIN hat Ay tata
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Sis Meta a tat tate tN Mat Aint da aad SP teat at eA tete!
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LBERT, PIRINC] ‘MBER
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From a French Print
Pub, July 1.1806 by John White Fleet S¢ & John Scolt, Sirand,
COUNT GRAMMONT. 133
the Chevalier de Gremmont ‘may I
‘take the liberty to enquire, how I
‘came to be known to your ‘Is it
‘ possible,’ said the other, ‘ that the
“ Chevalier de Grammont can have for-
‘ gotten La Motte, who had the honour
‘to serve so long in his regiment?
‘What! is it you, my good friend La
‘Motte? I was indeed to blame for —
‘not remembering you, though you
‘are in a dress very different from
‘that which I first saw you in at
‘ Bruxelles, when you taught the ~
‘ Duchess of Guise to dance the trio-
‘lets; and I am afraid your affairs are
‘not in so flourishing a condition as
‘ they were the campaign after I had
‘given you the company you men-
‘tion. They were talking in this
manner, when the Duke d’Arscot, fol-
lowed by the gentlemen above men-
tioned, came up on full gallop. The
134, "MEMOIRS ‘OF
Chevalier de Grammont was saluted
by the whole company before he could
say a word. Soon after arrived an im-
mense number of others of his ac-
quaintance, with many people, out of
curiosity, on both sides, who, seeing
him upon the eminence, assembled
together with the greatest eagerness ;
so that the two armies, without design,
- without truce, and without fraud, were
going to join in conversation, if; by
chance, Monsieur de Turenne had not
perceived it at a distance. The sight
surprized him: he hastened that way;
and the Marquis d’ Humiéres acquaint-
ed him with the arrival of the Cheva-
lier de Grammont, who ' wished to
speak to the sentry before he went to
head quarters. He added, that he
could not comprehend how the devil
he had managed to assemble both ar-
mies around him, for it was hardly a
COUNT GRAMMONT. 135
minute since he had left him. ‘ Truly,’
said Monsieur de Turenne, ‘he is a
‘very extraordinary man; but it is
“only reasonable, that he should let
‘us now have a little of his company,
«since he has paid his first visit to the
‘enemy. At these words he dis-
patched an aid-de-camp, to recal the
officers of his army, and to acquaint
the Chevalier de Grammont with his
impatience to see him. —
This order arrived at the same time,
with one of the same nature, to the
_enemy’s officers. The Prince de Condé,
being informed of this peaceable inter-
_ view, was not in the least surprized at
it, when he heard that it.was occa-
_ sioned by the arrival of the Chevalier
de Grammont. He only gave Lussan
orders to recal the officers, and to de-
sire the Chevalier to meet him at the
same place the next day; which the
136 MEMOIRS OF 9 >
Chevalier promised to do, provided |
Monsieur de Turenne should approve
of it, as he made no doubt he would.
His reception in the royal army
was equally agreeable with that which
he had experienced from the enemy.
Monsieur de Turenne esteemed him
no less for his frankness than for the
poignancy of his wit: he took it very
kindly, that he was the only courtier
who came to see him im a time so cri- —
tical as the present. The quéstions
which he asked him about the court,
were not so much for information, as
to divert himself with his manner of
relating their different apprehensions
and alarms. The Chevalier de Gram- |
mont-advised him to beat the enemy,
if he did not chuse to be answerable
for an enterprize which he had under- |
taken without consulting the Cardinal.
Monsieur de Turenne promised him
COUNT GRAMMONT. ~137
he would exert himself to the utmost
to follow his advice, and assured him,
that if he succeeded, he would make
the queen keep her word with him;
and concluded with saying, that he
was not sorry the Prince de Condé
had expressed a desire to see him.
His measures were taken for an attack
upon the lines: on this subject he dis-
coursed in private with the Chevalier
de Grammont, and concealed nothing
from him except the time of execu-
tion. — But this was perfectly unneces-
sary; for the Chevalier had seen too
much, not to judge, from his own
_ knowledge, and the observations he
had made, that from the position he
had taken, the attack could be no
longer deferred.
»He set out the next day for his
rendezvous, attended by a trumpet;
and found the Prince at the place
138 ~ MEMOIRS OF ©
which Monsieur de Lussan had pointed
out to him the evening before. As
soon as he alighted: ‘Is it possible,’
said the Prince, embracing him, ‘ that
‘this canbe the Chevalier de Gram-
‘mont, and that I should see him in
‘the contrary party?’ ‘It is you, my
‘Lord, whom I see there,’ replied the
Chevalier, ‘and I appeal to yourself,
‘whether it is the fault of the Cheva-
‘ lier de Grammont, or your own, that
‘we now embrace different interests.’
‘I must confess, said the Prince,
‘that if ‘there are some who have
‘abandoned me like base ungrateful
‘wretches, you have left me, as I left
‘myself, like a man of honour, who
‘thinks himself in the right: but let
‘us forget all cause of resentment, and
‘ tell me what is your motive for com-
‘ing here, you, whom I thought at
‘Peronne with the court. ‘ Must I
COUNT ‘GRAMMONT. 139
~ tell you? said he: ‘ Why,: faith then,
*I came to save your life. I know
‘that you cannot help being in the
«midst of the enemy in the day of
‘battle; it is only necessary for your
‘ horse to be shot under you, and to be
‘ taken in arms, to meet with the same
- treatment from this Cardinal, which
‘your uncle Montmorency did from
- “the other. I come, therefore, to hold
‘a horse in readiness for you, in case
‘ of a similar misfortune, that you may
“not lose your head.’ ‘It is not the
“first time,’ said the Prince smiling,
‘that you have rendered me this ser-
* vice, though the being taken prisoner
‘at that time could not have been so
‘ dangerous to me as now.’
* From this conversation, they passed
to more entertaining subjects. The
Prince asked him many questions con-
cerning the court, the ladies, play, and —
140 MEMOIRS OF
his amours; and returning insensibly
to the present situation of affairs, the
Chevalier having enquired after some
officers of his acquaintance, who had
remained with him, the Prince told
him that. if he chose, he might go to
the lines, where he would have an op-
portunity not only of seeing those
whom he enquired after, but likewise
the disposition, of the quarters and en-
trenchments. To this he consented,
and the Prince, having shewn him all
the works, and attended him back to
their rendezvous, ‘ Well, Chevalier,’
said he, ‘ when do you think we shall
‘see you againr ‘ Faith,’ replied he;
‘you have used me so handsomely,
‘that I shall conceal nothing from
‘you. Hold yourself in readiness an
‘hour before day-break ; for, you may
‘depend upon it, we shall attack you
“to-morrow morning. I would not
COUNT GRAMMONT. 141
_~ have acquainted you with this, per-
“haps, ‘had I been entrusted with the
“secret; but, nevertheless, in the pre-
“sent case you may believe me.’ ‘You
‘ are stillthe same man,’ said the Prince,
again embracing him. The Chevalier
returned to Monsieur de Turenne’s
camp towards night: every preparation
was then making for the attack of the
lines, and it ‘was no longer a secret
among the troops.
~ © Well, Monsieur le Chevalier, were
“they all very glad to see you?’ said
Monsieur de Turenne: ‘ the Prince,
‘no doubt, received you with the
‘ greatest kindness, and asked a great
‘number of questions.’ ‘ He _ has
‘shewn me all the civility imaginable,’
replied the Chevalier; ‘and, to con-
‘vince me he did not take me for a
“spy, he led me round the lines and
“entrenchments, and shewed me the
142 - _ MEMOIRS OF
‘ preparations he had made for your.
‘reception.’» ‘ And what is his opi-
‘nion,’ said the Marshal? ‘He is pers
‘suaded that you will attack him to-
‘night, or to-morrow by day-break ;
‘for you great captains see through
“each other's designs in a wonderful
‘ manner.’ . 5 PL
Monsieur de Turenne, with plea-
sure, received this commendation from
aman who was not indiscriminately _
accustomed to bestow praise: he eom-
municated to him the disposition of
the attack; and at the same time ac-
quainted him, that he was very happy
that a man, who had seen so many
actions, was to be present at this; and
that he esteemed it no small advantage
to have the benefit of his advice: but
as he believed that the remaining part
of the night would be hardly sufficient
for his repose, after having passed the
COUNT GRAMMONT. 143
former without any refreshment, he
consigned him to the Marquis de’ Hu-
miéres, who provided him with a sup-
per and a lodging.
The next day the lines of Arras
were attacked, wherein the victorious
Turenne added additional lustre to his
former glory; and the Prince de Condé,
though vanquished, lost nothing of his
former reputation. _
There are so many accounts of this
celebrated battle, that a description of
it here would be altogether super-
fluous. The Chevalier de Grammont;
who, as a volunteer, was permitted to
go every where, has given a better.
description of it than any other per-
son. Monsieur de Turenne reaped
great advantage from that activity
which never forsook the Chevalier
either in peace or war, and that pre-
sence of mind which enabled him to
144 MEMOIRS OF
carry orders, as coming from the ge-
neral, so very a-propos, that Monbieliy
de Turenne, otherwise very particular
in such matters, thanked him, when
the battle was over, in the presence
of all his officers, and dispatched him
to court with the first news of his
success. | 3
All that is generally necessary in
these expeditions, is to be accustomed
to hard riding, and to be well provided
with fresh horses: but in this instance
a great many other obstacles were to
be surmounted. In the first place, the
parties of the enemy were dispersed
all over the country, and obstructed
his passage. Then he had to prepare
against greedy and officious courtiers, —
who, on such occasions, post them-
selves in all the avenues, in order to
cheat the poor courier out of his
news. However, his address preserved
COUNT GRAMMONT. 145.
him from the one, and deceived the
others, — ¥iou ae
~ He had taken ejwht or ten troopers,
Midaiandiad by an officer of his ac-
quaintance, to escort him half way to
Bapaume; being persuaded that the
greatest danger would lie between the
camp and the first stage. He had not.
_ proceeded. a league before he was con-
vinced of the truth of his surmise.
Turning therefore to the officer, who
_ followed him closely, ‘if you are not
‘ well mounted,” said he, ‘1 would ad-
‘vise you to return to the camp; for
“my part, I shall set spurs to my horse
‘and make the best of my way.’ ‘ Sir,’
said the officer, ‘ I hope I shall be able:
‘to keep you-company, at whatever
‘rate you go, until you are out of all
‘danger. ‘I doubt that,’ replied the
Chevalier, ‘ for.yonder appear to be
‘some gentlemen preparing to’ pay us
VOL. I. L
146 MEMOIRS OF ,
‘a visit. ‘ Don’t you see,’ said the
officer, ‘ these are some of our own
‘ people who are grazing their horses.’
‘No,’ said the Chevalier; ‘ but I see
«very well that they are some of the
‘enemy’s troopers: upon which, ob-
serving to him that they were mount-
ing, he ordered the horsemen that
escorted him, to prepare themselves to
-make a diversion, and he himself set
off full speed towards Bapaume. |
He was mounted upon a very swift
English horse; but having entangled
himself in a hollow way where the
ground was deep and miry, he soon
had the troopers at his heels, who,
supposing him to be some officer of
rank, would not be deceived, but con-
tinued to pursue him without paying
any attention to the others. ‘The. best
mounted of the party began to draw
near him; for the English horses,
COUNT GRAMMONT. 147
swift as the wind on even ground,
proceeding but very indifferently in
bad roads, the trooper presented his
carbine, and cried out to him, at some
distance, good quarter. ‘The Cheva-
lier de Grammont, who perceived that
they gained upon him, and that what-
ever efforts his horse made in such
heavy ground, he must be overtaken
at last, immediately quitted the road
to Bapaume, and took a causeway to
the left, which led quite a different
way. As soon as he had gained it, he
drew up, as if to hear the proposal of
the trooper, which afforded his horse
an opportunity of recovering himself;
while his enemy, mistaking his inten-
tion, and thinking that he only waited
to surrender, immediately exerted every
effort, that he might take him before
the rest of his companions, who were
148 MEMOIRS OF
following, could arrive, and by this
means almost killed his horse.
One minute’s reflection made the
Chevalier consider what a disagreeable
adventure it would be, thus coming
from so glorious a victory, and the
dangers of a battle so warmly dis-
puted, to be taken by a set of scoun-
drels who had not been in it, and, in-
stead of being received in triumph,
and embraced by a great queen for the
important news with which he was
charged, to see himself stripped by the
vanquished.
During this short meditation, the
trooper who followed him was arrived
within shot, and still presenting his
carbine, offered him good quarter:
but the Chevalier de Grammont, to
whom this offer, and the manner in
which it was made, were equally dis-
COUNT GRAMMONT. 149
pleasing, made a sign to him to lower
his piece; and perceiving his horse to
be in wind, he lowered his hand, rode
off like lightning, and left the trooper
in such astonishment that he even for-
got to fire at him.
_ As soon as he arrived at Bapaume,
he changed horses: the commander of
this place shewed him the greatest re-
spect, assuring him that no person had
yet passed; that he would keep the
secret, and that he would detain all
that followed him, except the couriers
of Monsieur de Turenne.
He had now only to guard against
those who would be watching for him
about the environs of Peronne, to re-
turn as soon as they saw him, and
carry his news to court, without being
acquainted with any of the particulars.
He knew very well that Marshal du
Plessis, Marshal de Villeroy, and Ga-
150 ’- MEMOIRS OF
boury, had boasted of this to the Car-
dinal before his departure. | Where-
fore, to elude this snare, he hired two
well-mounted horsemen at Bapaume,
and as soon as he had got a league
from that place, gave each of them
two louis d’ors, to secure their fidelity.
He ordered them to. ride on before, to
appear very much terrified, and to tell
all those that. should ask them any
questions, that all was lost, that the
Chevalier de Grammont had stopped
at Bapaume, having no great inclina-
tion to be the messenger of ill news; —
and that as for themselves, they had
been pursued by the enemy’s troopers,
who were spread over the whole coun-
try since the defeat. 2
Every thing succeeded to his au
the horsemen were intercepted by Ga-
boury, whose eagerness had outstrip-
ped the two marshals; but whatever
COUNT GRAMMONT.: 151
‘questions were asked them, they acted
their parts so well, that Peronne was
already in consternation, and rumours
of the defeat were whispered among
the courtiers, when the Chevalier de
Grammont arrived. 3 |
Nothing so much enhances the
value of good news, as when a false
alarm of bad has preceded; yet, though
the Chevalier’s was accompanied with
this advantage, none but their Majes-
ties received it with the transport of
joy which it deserved.
The queen kept her promise to him
in the most fascinating manner: she
embraced him before the whole court;
the king appeared no less delighted ;
but the Cardinal, whether with the
view of lessening the merit of an ac-
tion which deserved a handsome re-
ward, or from a return of that inso-
lence which always accompanied him
2 bl
159 . MEMOIRS OF
in prosperity, appeared at first not to
pay any attention to what he said.
Being afterwards informed that the
lines had been forced, that the Spanish
army was beaten, and that Arras was
relieved: ‘ Is the Prince de Condé
‘taken? said he. ‘ No,” replied the
Chevalier de Grammont. ‘ He is killed
‘then, I suppose? said the Cardinal.
‘Not so neither,’ answered the Che- —
valier. ‘ Fine news indeed,’ said the
Cardinal, with an air of contempt; and
at these words he went into the queen’s
cabinet with their Majesties. And
happy it was for the Chevalier that he
did so, for without doubt he would
have given him some severe reply, in
resentment for those two fine ques-
tions, and the conclusion he had drawn
from them.
The court was filled with sie! spies
of his Eminence: the Chevalier, as is
COUNT GRAMMONT. 153
usual on such an occasion, was: sur-
rounded by a crowd of courtiers and
inguisitive-people, and he was very
glad to ease himself of some part of
the load which laid heavy on his heart,
within the hearing of the Cardinal’s
creatures, and which he would per-
haps have told him to his face.
‘Faith, gentlemen,’ said he, with a
sneer, ‘ there 1s nothing like being
‘zealous and eager in the service of
‘kings and great princes: you have
‘seen_what a gracious reception his
‘ Majesty has given me; you are like-
‘wise witnesses in what an obliging
‘manner the queen kept her promise
*to me; but as for the Cardinal, he
‘has received my news as if he gained
‘no more by it than he did by the
‘death of Peter Mazarine.’
This was sufficient to terrify all
those who were sincerely attached to
154 MEMOIRS OF
him; and the best established fortune
would have been ruined at some period
-by a jest much less severe: for it was
delivered in the presence of witnesses,
who were only desirous of having an
opportunity of representing it in its
utmost malignancy, to make a merit
of their vigilance with a powerful and
absolute minister. Of this the Che-
valier de Grammont was thoroughly
convinced; yet whatever detriment
he foresaw might arise to himself from
it, he could not help being much
pleased with what he had said.
The spies very faithfully discharged
their duty: however, the affair took a
very different turn from what they ex-
pected. The next day, when the
Chevalier de Grammont ‘was present
while their Majesties were at’ dinner,
the Cardinal came in, and coming up —
to him, every body making way for
COUNT GRAMMONT. 155
him out of respect: ‘ Chevalier, said
he, ‘ the news which you have brought
‘is very good, their Majesties are very
‘well satisfied with it; and to con-
‘vince you that I think it more ad-
‘vantageous to me than the death of
‘ Peter Mazarine, if you will come and
‘dine with me we will have a few
‘games together; for the queen will
‘give us something to play for over
“and above her first promise.’
In this manner did the Chevalier
de Grammont dare to provoke a power-
ful minister, and this was all the re-
sentment which this least vindictive
of all ministers expressed on the occa-
sion. It was indeed an uncommon
trait of grandeur in so young a man,
to reverence the authority of minis-
ters no farther, than as they rendered
themselves respectable by their merit:
for this, his own breast, as well as the
156 MEMOIRS OF
whole court, applauded him, and he
enjoyed the satisfaction of being the
only man who durst preserve some
shadow of liberty, in a state of general
servitude. To the Cardinal’s passing
over this insult with impunity, per-
haps it was owing that the Chevalier.
afterwards got himself into difficul-
ties, by some rash expressions less
fortunate in the event. | | |
In the mean time the court re-
turned: the Cardinal, at last sensi-
ble that he could no longer keep his
master in a state of tutelage; being
himself worn out with cares and in-
firmities, having amassed treasures he
knew not what to do with, and being
sufficiently loaded with the weight of
public odium, turned all his thoughts
towards terminating, in a manner the
most advantageous for France, an ad-
ministration which had so cruelly
COUNT GRAMMONT.. 157
shaken that kingdom. Thus, while
he was earnestly laying the foundations
of a peace most ardently wished for,
pleasure and magnificence began to
reign at court. |
The Chevalier de Grammont ex-
perienced for a long time many vicis-
citudes in love and at play: he was
esteemed by the courtiers, sought for
by beauties whom he neglected, and
a dangerous favourite of those whom
he admired; yet more favoured by
fortune than by the fair sex, but the
“one indemnifying him for want of suc-
cess with the other; he was always
full of life and spirits ; and in trans-
actions of importance, always the man
of honour.
It is a pity that we are here ob-
liged to interrupt the course of his his-
tory, by an interval of some years, as
has been already done at the com-
158 MEMOIRS OF
mencement of these memoirs: ih a4
life where the most minute circum-
stances are always singular and divert- __
ing, we can meet with no chasm which
does not afford regret; but whether
the Chevalier did not think them
worthy of holding a place among his
other adventures, or that he has only
preserved a confused recollection of
them, we must pass to the parts of
these fragments which are better as-
certained, that we may arrive at the
subject of his journey to England. _
The peace of the Pyrenees; the
king’s marriage, the return of the
Prince de Condé, and the death of the
Cardinal, gave a new face to the state.
The eyes of the whole nation were
fixed upon their monarch, who, for —
nobleness of mien, and gracefulness of
person, had no equal ; but it was not
then known that he was possessed of
Pe my
Skee
LOUIS. XIV.
From a beauitul print by Nanteuil.
Pub? July,/. 1808, by John White Meet S$, John Scott 442. Strand.
COUNT GRAMMONT. — 159
those superior abilities, which, filling
his subjects with admiration, in the end
made him so formidable to all Europe.
Love and ambition, the invisible springs
of the intrigues and cabals of all courts,
attentively observed his first steps:
pleasure promised herself an absolute
empire over a prince who had been
kept in ignorance of the necessary
| rules of government, and ambition
had no hopes of reigning in the court,
except in the minds of those who were
able to. dispute the management of af-
fairs; when men were surprized to see
the king on a sudden display those
shining talents, which prudence, in
some measure necessary, had so long
obliged him to conceal.
An application, inimical to the
pleasures which generally attract that
age, and which unlimited power very
seldom refuses, attached him solely to
160 MEMOIRS OF
the cares of government: all admired
this wonderful change, but-all did not —
find their account in it. The great
lost their consequence before an abso-
lute master; and the courtiers ap-
proached with reverential awe the sole
object of their respects, and the sole
master of their fortunes: those who
had conducted themselves like petty
tyrants in their provinces, and on the
frontiers, were now no more than go-
vernors: favours, according to the
king’s pleasure, were sometimes con-
ferred on merit, and sometimes. for
services done the state; but to impor-
tune, or to menace the court, was no
longer the method to obtain them:
The Chevalier de Grammont. re-
garded his master’s attention to the
affairs of state as a prodigy: he could
not conceive how he could submit, at
his age, to the rules he prescribed
COUNT GRAMMONT. 161
himself, or that he should give up so
many hours from pleasure, to devote
them to the tiresome duties, and labo-
rious functions of government; but he
blessed the Lord that henceforward no
more homage was to be paid, no more
court to be made, but to him alone, to
whom they were justly due. Disdain-
ing as he did the servile adoration
usually paid to a minister, he could
never crouch before the power of the
two Cardinals who succeeded each
other: he neither worshipped the ar-
bitrary power of the one, nor gave his —
approbation to the crooked policy of
the other: he had never received any
thing from Cardinal Richelieu but an
abbey, which, on account of his rank,
could not be refused him; and he
never got any thing from Mazarine but
what he won of him at play.
By many years service under an able.
VOL. I. M
162 MEMOIRS OF
general he had acquired a talent for
_ war; but this, during a period of general
peace, was of no farther service to him:
he therefore thought, that in the midst
of a court flourishing in beauties, and
abounding in wealth, he could not
employ himself better, than in endea-
vouring to gain the good opinion of
_his master, in making the best use of
those advantages which nature had
given him for play, and in putting in
_ practice new stratagems in love. |
He succeeded very well in the two
first of these projects, and as he had
from that time laid it down as the rule
of his conduct, to attach himself solely
to the king in all his views of prefer-
ment; to have no regard for favour
unless when it was supported by merit;
to make himself beloved by the cour-
tiers, and feared by the ministers; to
dare to undertake, any, thing in order
COUNT GRAMMONT. 163
to do good, and to engage in nothing
at the expence of innocence; he soon
became one in all the king’s parties of
pleasure, without gaining the ill-will
of the courtiers: In play he was suc-
cessful, in love unfortunate; or, to
speak more properly, his restlessness
and jealousy overcame his natural pru-
dence, in a situation wherein he had
- most occasion for it.
La Motte Houdancourt was one of
the maids of honour to the queen
Dowager, and; though no sparkling
beauty, she had drawn away lovers
from the celebrated Meneville: It was
sufficient in those days, for thé king
to cast his eye upon a young lady of
the court to inspire her with hopes,
and often with tender sentiments ; but
if he spoke to her more than once, the
courtiers took it for granted, and those
who had either pretensions to, or love
164 “MEMOIRS OF
for her, respectfully withdrew both
the one and the other, and afterwards.
only paid her respect; but the Cheva-
lier de Grammont thought fit to act
quite otherwise, perhaps to preserve a
singularity of character, which upon
the present occasion was of no service
to him. He had never before thought
of her; but as soon as he found that
she was honoured with the king's at-
tention, he was of opinion that she was
likewise deserving of his: having at-
tached himself to her, he soon became
very troublesome, without convincing
her he was much in love: she grew
weary of his persecutions; but he would
not desist, neither on account of her
ill treatment, nor of her threats. This
conduct of his at first made no great
noise, because she was in hopes that
he would change his behaviour; but
finding him rashly persist in it, she
COUNT. GRAMMONT. 165
complained of him: and then it was
that he perceived that if love renders
all conditions equal, it is not so be-
tween rivals. He was. banished the
court, and not finding any place in
France which could console him for
what he most regretted, the presence
and sight of his prince, after having
made some slight reflections upon his
disgrace, and bestowed a few impre-
cations upon her who was the cause
of it, he at last formed the resolution
of visiting England.
166 MEMOIRS OF
CHAPTER VI.
Courrosrry to see a man equally fa-
mous for his crimes, and his elevation,
had once before induced the Chevalier
de Grammont to visit England. Rea-
sons of state assume great privileges:
whatever appears advantageous is law-
ful; and every thing that is necessary,
is honourable in politics. While the
king of England sought the protection
of Spain in the Low Countries, and
that of the states general in Holland,
other powers sent aplendid ehabasaiys
to Cromwell. |
This man, whose ambition - iia
opened him a way to sovereign power
by the greatest crimes, maintained
himself in it by qualities whose lustre
seemed to render him worthy of it.
COUNT GRAMMONT. 167
_ The nation of all Europe the least sub-
missive, patiently bore a yoke which
did not even leave her the shadow of
that liberty of which she is so jealous;
and Cromwell, master of the common-
wealth, under the title of Protector,
_ feared at home, but yet more dreaded
abroad, was at his highest pitch of
glory when he was seen by the Cheva-
lier de Grammont; but the Chevalier
did not see any appearance of a court.
One part of the nobility proscribed,
the other removed from employments;
an affectation of purity of manners,
instead of the luxury which the pomp
of courts displays, all taken together
presented nothing but sad and serious
objects in the finest city in the world,
and therefore the Chevalier acquired
nothing by this voyage, but some idea
of the merit of a profligate man,
and the admiration of some. con-
168 _° MEMOIRS OF
cealed beauties he had found means to
discover. | | vy Meee
Affairs wore quite a different ap-
pearance at the period of his second
journey. The joy for the restoration
of the royal family still appeared in all
parts: the nation, fond of change and
of novelty, tasted the pleasure of -a
natural government, and seemed to
breathe again after a long oppression.
In short, the same people, who, by a
solemn abjuration had excluded even
the posterity of their lawful sovereign,
exhausted themselves in festivals and
rejoicings for his return. |
The Chevalier de Grammont arrived
about two years after the restoration:
the reception he met with in this court,
soon made him forget the one he had
left; and the engagements he subse-
quently contracted in England, lessen- .
ed the regret he had in leaving France,
COUNT GRAMMONT. 169
This was a desirable retreat for an
exile of his disposition: every thing
flattered his taste; and if the adven-
tures he had in this country were not
the most considerable, they were by
far the most agreeable of his life. But
before we relate them, it will not be
improper to give some account of the
state of the English court at that
period.. '
The necessity of affairs had exposed
Charles II. from his earliest youth, to
the toils and perils of a bloody war:
the fate of the king, his father, had
left him for inheritance nothing but
his misfortunes and disgraces: they
overtook him every where; but it was
not until he had struggled with his
il-fortune to the last extremity, that
he submitted to the decrees of Provi-
dence. |
The most distinguished for their
I
170 MEMOIRS OF
birth or their loyalty, who had fol-
lowed him into exile, and the flower
of the English youth who afterwards
attached themselves to his fortunes,
composed a court Bast of a better
fate.
Plenty and prosperity, which are
thought to tend only to corrupt man-
ners, found nothing to spoil in an in-
digent and wandering court, Adver-
sity, on the contrary, which produces
a thousand advantages in spite of our-
selves, served them for education; and
nothing was to be seen among them
but an emulation in glory, ps
and virtue.
With this little court, in such high
esteem for merit, the king of England
returned two years prior to the period
we are about to speak of, to ascend a
throne, which to all appearances he
was likely to fill as worthily as the
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_ COUNT GRAMMONT. 171
~ most glorious of his predecessors. The
magnificence displayed on this occa-
sion was renewed at his coronation.
_ The death of the duke of Gloucester,
and of the Princess Royal, which fol-
lowed shortly after, had interrupted the
~ course of this splendour, by a tedious
mourning, which the court quitted at
last to prepare for the reception of the
Infanta of Portugal, :
It was in the height of the rejoic-
ings they were making for this new
qucen, in all the splendour of a brilliant
court, that the Chevalierde Grammont
arrived to contribute to its magnifi-
cence and diversions. 3
Accustomed as he was to the gran-
deur of the court of France, he was
surprized at the politeness and splen-
dour of that of England. The king
was inferior to none, either in shape
or air; his wit was pleasant; his dis-
172 ~ MEMOIRS OF
position easy and affable; his soul,
susceptible of opposite impressions,
was compassionate to the unhappy, in-
flexible to the wicked, and tender even
to excess: he shewed great abilities in
affairs of importance, but was inca-
pable of application to any that were
not so: his heart was often the dupe;
but oftener the slave, of his attach-
ments.
The character of the Duke of York
was entirely different: he had the re-
putation of undaunted courage, an in-
violable regard for his word, great
economy in his affairs, hauteur, appli-
cation, arrogance, each in their turn:
a scrupulous observer of the rules of
duty, and the laws of justice; he was
accounted a faithful friend, and an im-
placable enemy.
His morality and justice, struggling
for some time with prejudice, had at
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From the Oriainal J
Publ, July.1. 1606 by John White.Fleet §¢ & John §cott.442,Strand.
COUNT GRAMMONT. 173
~ last triumphed, by his acknowledging
for his wife Miss Hyde, maid of ho-
nour to the Princess Royal, whom
he had secretly married in Holland.
Her father, at that time Chancellor of
England, supported by this new al-
_ liance, soon rose to the head of affairs,
and had almost ruined them: not that
_ he wanted capacity; but he was too
self-sufficient. |
The Duke of Ormond possessed the
confidence and esteem of his master: -
the greatness of his services, the splen-
dour of his merit and his birth, and the
fortune he had abandoned in adhering
to the fate of his prince, rendered him
worthy of it. Nor durst the courtiers
even murmur at seeing him high
steward of the household, lord cham-
berlain, and lord lieutenant of Ireland.
He exactly resembled the Marshal de
Grammont, in the turn of his wit and
_
174 MEMOIRS OF —
the robleness of his manners, and like
him was the honour of his master’s
court: | es detawict
The Duke of Buckingham and thé
Earl of St. Albans were the same in
England as they had appeared in
France: the one full of wit and viva-—
city, dissipated, without splendour, an
immense estate upon which he had
just entered: the other, a man of no
-gteat genius, had raised himself a-con-
siderable fortune from nothing, and
by losing at play, and keeping a great
table, made it appear greater than it
was. sing ae oe
Sir Charles Berkley, afterwards
Earl of Falmouth, was the confident
and favourite of the king: he com-
manded the Duke of York’s regiment
of guards, and governed the Duke
himself. He had nothing very re+
markable either in his wit, or his per-
COUNT GRAMMONT. 175
son; but his sentiments were worthy
of the fortune which awaited him,
when, on the very point of his eleva-
tion, he was killed at sea. Never did
disinterestedness so perfectly charac-
terize the greatness of the soul: he
had no views but what tended to the
glory of his master: his credit was
never employed but in advising him to
reward services, or to confer favours
on merit: so polished in his intercourse
with the world, that the greater his
power, the greater appeared to be his
humility; and so sincere and open in
all his proceedings, that he would never
have been taken for a courtier.
The Duke of Ormond’s sons and
his nephews had been in the king’s
court during his exile, and were far
from diminishing its lustre after his
return. ‘The Earl of Arran was singu-
larly adroit in all kinds of exercises,
176 MEMOIRS OF ©
played well at tennis, and on the guit-
tar, and was pretty successful in gal+
lantry: his elder brother, the Earl of
Ossory, was not so lively, but of the
most liberal sentiments, and of great
probity.
The elder of the Hamiltons, efi
cousin, was the man who of all the
court dressed best: he was well made
in his person, and possessed those
‘happy talents which lead to fortune,
and procure success in love: he was a
most assiduous courtier, had the most —
lively wit, the most polished manners,
and the most punctual attention to his
master imaginable: no person danced
better, nor was any one a more general
lover: a merit of some account in a
court entirely devoted to love and gal-
lantry. It is not at all surprizing, that
with these qualities he succeeded my —
Lord Falmouth in the king’s favour;
COUNT GRAMMONT. 177
but it is very extraordinary that he
should have experienced the same des-
tiny, as if this war had been declared
against merit only, and as if this sort
of combat was fatal to none but such
as had certain hopes of a splendid for-
tune. This however did not happen
until some years afterwards.
The handsome Sidney, less dan-
gerous than he appeared to be, had not
sufficient vivacity to support the im-
pression which his figure made; but
little Jermyn was on all sides success-
ful in his intrigues. The old Earl of
Saint Albans, his uncle, had for a long
time adopted him, though the youngest
of all his nephews. . It is well known
what a table the good man kept at
Paris, while the King his master was
starving at Brussels, and the Queen
Dowager, his mistress, lived not over
well in France.
Mol. 2 N
178 MEMOIRS OF
Jermyn, supported by his uncle's
wealth, found it no difficult matter to
make a considerable figure upon his
arrival at the court of the Princess of
Orange: the poor courtiers of the
King her brother could not vie with
him in point of equipage and magni-
ficence ; and these two articles often
produce as much success in love as real
merit. For the truth of this we need
no other example than the present;
for though Jermyn was brave, and
certainly a gentleman, yet he had
neither brilliant actions, nor distin-
guished rank to set him off; and as
for his figure, he had nothing to boast
of in it. He was diminutive in his
person, his head large, and his legs
small: his features were not disagree-
able; but he was extremely affected
in his carriage and behaviour. His
wit consisted entirely in expressions
COUNT GRAMMONT. 179
learnt by rote, which he occasionally
employed either in raillery, or in love.
This was the whole foundation of the
merit of a man so formidable in
amours.
The Princess Royal was the first
who was taken with him: Miss Hyde
seemed to follow the steps of her
mistress: this immediately brought
him into credit, and his reputation was
established in England before his ar-
rival. Prepossession in the minds of
women is sufficient to procure access
to their hearts: Jermyn found them
in dispositions so favourable for him,
that he had nothing to do but to
speak.
It was in vain they perceived that
a reputation so lightly established, was
still more feebly sustained; the infatu-
ation continued. The Countess of
Castlemaine, a woman lively and dis-
730). MEMOIRS OF
cerning, followed the delusive shadow,
and though undeceived in a reputation
which promised so much, and _ per-
formed so little, she nevertheless per-
sisted in her attachment, until she was
upon the point of embroiling herself
with the King; so great was this first
instance of her constancy.
Such were the heroes of the court.
As for the beauties, you could not look
round without seeing them in every
direction: those of the greatest repu-
tation were this same Countess of
Castlemaine, afterward Duchess of
Cleveland, Lady Chesterfield, Lady
Shrewsbury, Mrs. Roberts, Mrs. Mid-
dleton, the Miss Brooks, and a hun-
dred others, who shone at court with
equal lustre; but Miss Hamilton and
Miss Stewart were its chief orna-;
ments, The new Queen gave but
little additional brilliancy to the court,
COUNT GRAMMONT. 181
either in her person, or in her re-
tinue, which was then composed of
the Countess de Panétra, who came
over with her in quality of lady of the
bed-chamber ; six frights, who called
themselves maids of honour, and a
duentia, another monster; who: took
the title of governess to those extra-
ordinary beauties. ,
Among the men were Francisco de
Melo, brother to the Countess de Pa-
nétra; one Taurauvédez, who called
himself Don Pedro Francisco Correo
de Silva, extremely handsome, but a
greater fool than all the Portuguese
put together: he was more vain of his
names than of his person; but the
Duke of Buckingham, a still greater
fool than he, though more addicted to
raillery, gave him the nick-name of
Peter of the Wood. Poor Pedro was
so enraged at this, that after many
182 MEMOIRS OF
fruitless complaints and ineffectual me-
naces, he was at last obliged to quit
England, leaving to the happy Buck-.
ingham the possession of a. Portu-
guese nymph whom he had taken >
from him, as well.as two of his names, ~
and still more hideous than any of
the Queen’s maids of honour. Be-
sides these, there were six chaplains,
four bakers, a Jew perfumer, and a
certain officer, apparently without em-
ployment, who- called himself her
Highness’s barber. Katharine de Bra-
ganza was far from appearing with
splendor in the charming court where
she came to reign; however, in the
end she was pretty successful. The
Chevalier de Grammont, who had been —
long known to the royal family, and
to most of the gentlemen of the court,
had only to get acquainted with the
ladies; and for this he wantéd no in-
rata
Ry
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theirs:
Strand
Fi
CATHARINE of BRAGANZA.,
Pub July.1. 1808. by-John White Fleet StirScJohn Scott,442, Strand,
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COUNT GRAMMONT. | 183
terpreter: they all spoke French
enough to explain themselves, and
they all undersood it sufficiently to
comprehend what he had to say t
them. Bag af
The Queen’s court was always very
‘numerous: that of the Duchess was
less so, but more select. This Prin-
cess had a majestic air, a pretty good
shape, not much beauty, a great deal
of wit, and so just a discernment of
merit, that, whoever of either sex
were possessed of it, were sure to be
distinguished by her: an air of gran-
deur in all her actions made her be
considered as if born to support the
rank which placed her so near the
throne. The Queen Dowager returned
after the marriage of the Princess
Royal, and it was in her court that
the two others met.
The Chevalier de Grammont was
184: _ MEMOIRS OF
soon liked by all parties: those who
had not known him before, were sur-
prized to see a Frenchman of his dis-
position. The King’s restoration hav-
ing drawn a great number of foreigners
from all countries to the court, the
French were at first rather in disgrace ;
for, instead of any persons of distinction
having appeared among the first who
came over, there had only been some
insignificant puppies, each striving to
outdo the other in folly and extrava-
gance, despising every thing which
was not like themselves, and thinking
they introduced the bel ar, by treating
the English as strangers in their own
country. | ae
The Chevalier de Grammont, on
the contrary, was familiar with every
body: he gave into their customs, eat
of every thing, praised every thing, -
and easily habituated himself to their
COUNT GRAMMONT. 185
manner of living, which he looked
upon as neither vulgar nor barbarous;
and as he shewed a natural complai-
sance, instead of the impertinent affec-
tation of the others, the whole nation
was charmed with a man, who agree-
ably indemnified them for what they
had suffered from the folly of the
former. | 3
He first of all paid his court to the
King, and becameone of all his parties of
pleasure: he played high, and lost but
seldom: he found so little difference
in the manners and conversation of
those with whom he chiefly associated,
that he could scarcely believe he was
out of his own country. Every thing,
which could agreeably engage a man
of his disposition, presented itself to
his different humours, as if the plea-
sures of the court of France had
186 MEMOIRS OF
quitted it to accompany him in his
exile. | eu eoKpa
He was every ih engaged to some
entertainment; and those who wished
to regale him in their turn, were ob-
liged to take their measures in time,
and to invite him eight or ten days
before hand. ‘These importunate civi-
lities became tiresome in the long-run;
but as they seemed indispensable to a
man of his disposition, and as they
were the most genteel people of the
court who loaded him with them, he —
submitted with a good grace; but al-
ways reserved to himself the se: of
supping at home. —
His supper. hour depended upon
play, and was indeed very uncertain ;
but his supper was always served up
with the greatest elegance, by the as-
sistance of one or tio servants, who |
COUNT GRAMMONT. 187
were excellent caterers and good at-
tendants, but undersood cheating still
better.
The company, at these little enter-
tainments, was not numerous, but se-
lect: the first people of the court were
commonly of the party; but the man,
who of all others suited him best on
these occasions, never failed to attend:
this was the celebrated Saint Evre-
mond, who with great exactness, but
too great freedom, had written the
history of the treaty of the Pyrenees :
an exile like himself, though for very
different reasons. |
Happily for them both, fortune
had, some time before the arrival of
the Chevalier de Grammont, brought
Saint Evremond to England, after he
had had leisure to repent in Holland of
the beauties of that famous satire.
The Chevalier was from that time
188 MEMOIRS OF
his hero: they had each of them at-
tained to all the advantages which a
knowledge of the world, and the so-
ciety of people of fashion, could add
to the improvement of good natural
talents. Saint Evremond, less en-
gaged in frivolous pursuits, frequently
gave little lectures to the Chevalier,
and by making observations upon the
past, endeavoured to set him right for
the present, or to instruct him for the
future. ‘ You are now, said he, ‘ in
‘the most agreeable way of life a man
‘of your temper can desire: you are
‘the delight of a youthful, sprightly,
‘and gallant court: the King never
‘has a party of pleasure to which you
‘are not admitted. You play from
‘morning to night, or, to speak more
‘properly, from night to morning,
‘without knowing what it is to lose.
‘Far from losing the money you
COUNT GRAMMONT. 189
‘ brought hither, as you have done in
‘other places, you have doubled it,
‘trebled it; multiplied it almost be-
‘yond your wishes, notwithstanding
‘the exorbitant expences you are im-
‘ perceptibly led into. This, without
‘ doubt, is the most desirable situation
‘in the world: stop here, Chevalier,
‘and do not ruin your affairs, by re-
‘turning to your old sins. Avoid love,
‘ by pursuing other pleasures: love has
‘never been favourable to you. You
‘are sensible how much gallantry has
‘cost you; and every person here is
‘not so well acquainted with that mat-
‘ter as yourself. Play boldly: enter-
‘ tain the court with your wit: divert
‘the King by your ingenious and en-
‘ tertaining stories; but avoid all en-
‘ sagements which can deprive you of
‘this merit, and make you forget that
190 MEMOIRS OF
‘you are a stranger and an exile in
‘ this delightful country.
‘Fortune may grow weary of be-
‘friending you at play. What would
‘ have become of you, if your last mis-
‘ fortune had happened to you, when
‘ your money had been at as low an
‘ebb as I have known it? Attend care-
‘ fully then to this necessary deity, and
‘renounce the other. You will be
‘ missed at the court of France, before
‘ you grow weary of this; but be that
‘as it may, lay up a good store of |
‘money: when a man is rich, he con-
‘soles himself for his banishment. I
‘know you well, my dear Chevalier:
‘if you take it into your head to se-
‘duce a lady, or to supplant a lover,
‘your gains at play will by no means
‘suffice for presents and for bribes:
‘no, let play be as productive to you
COUNT GRAMMONT. 191
‘as it can be, you will never gain so
‘much by it, as you will lose by love,
‘if you yield to it.
‘ You are in possession of a thou-
‘sand splendid qualifications which
‘ distinguish you here: generous, be-
‘nevolent, elegant, and polite; and
‘for your engaging wit, inimitable.
‘Upon a strict examination, perhaps,
‘all this would not be found literally
‘true; but these are brilliant marks ;
‘and since it is granted that you pos-
‘sess them, do not shew yourself here
‘in any other light: for, in love, if
‘your manner of paying your addresses
‘can be so denominated, you do not in
‘ the least resemble the picture I have
‘just now drawn.’
‘ My little philosophical monitor,’
said the Chevalier de Grammont, ‘ you
‘talk here as if you were the Cato of
‘Normandy. ‘ Do I say any thing
192 MEMOIRS OF
‘untrue? replied Saint Evremond :’
‘Is it not a fact, that as soon as a
‘woman pleases you, your first care is
‘ to find out whether she has any other
‘ lover, and your second how to plague
‘her?—the gaining her affection 1s
‘the last thing in your thoughts. You
‘seldom engage in intrigues, but to
‘disturb the happiness of others: a
‘mistress who has no lovers, would
‘have no charms for you, and if she
‘has, she would be invaluable. Do
‘not all the places through which you
‘have passed furnish me with a thou- .
‘sand examples? shall I mention your
‘coup dessai at Turin? the trick you
‘played at Fontainbleau, where you
‘robbed the Princess Palatine’s courier
‘upon the high-way? and for what
‘ purpose was this fine exploit, but to
‘ put you in possession of some proofs
‘of her affection for another, in order
COUNT GRAMMONT. 193
‘to pive her uneasiness and confusion
‘by reproaches and menaces, which
“you had no right to make use of? |
‘Who but yourself ever took it
‘into his head to place himself in am-
‘bush upon the stairs, to disturb a
‘man in an intrigue, and to pull him
“back by the leg when he was half
‘way up to his mistress’s chamber?
‘yet did not you use your friend the
‘Duke of Buckingham in this manner,
‘when he was stealing at night to—
‘although you were not in the least
“his rival? How many spies did not
“you send out after dOlonne? How
‘many tricks, frauds, and persecutions,
‘did you not practise for the Countess
“de Fiesque, who perhaps might have
‘been constant to you, if you had not
‘yourself forced her to be otherwise ?
«But, to conclude, (for the enumera-
‘tion of your iniquities would be end-
VOL. I. eh, O-
194 | MEMOIRS OF
‘less), give me leave to ask you, why
‘you came here? Are not we obliged
‘to that same evil genius of yours,
‘which rashly inspired you to inter-
‘ meddle even in the gallantries of your
‘ Prince? Shew some discretion then
‘on this point in this place, I beseech
‘you: all the beauties of the court are
‘already engaged; and however easy
‘the English may be with respect to
‘their wives, they can by no means
‘bear the inconstancy of their mis-
- ‘tresses, nor patiently suffer the ad-
‘ vantages of a rival: suffer them there-
‘fore to remain in tranquillity, and
‘do not gain their ill-will for no pur-
* pose.
‘You certainly will meet with no
‘success with such as are unmarried :
‘honourable views, and good landed
‘ property, are required here; and you
‘have as little of the one as the other.
COUNT GRAMMONT. 195
‘ Every country has ‘its customs: in
¢ Holland unmarried ladies are of easy
‘access, and of tender dispositions ;
*‘ but as soon as ever they are married,
‘they become so many Lucretias: in
‘ France, the women are great co-
‘quettes before marriage, and_ still
‘ greater afterwards; but here it is a
‘ miracle if a young lady yields to any
‘ proposal but that of matrimony; and
‘I do not believe you yet so destitute
‘of grace as to think of that.’
Such were Saint Evremond’s lec-
tures; but they produced no effect:
the: Chevalier de Grammont only at-
tended to them for his amusement;
and though he was sensible of the
truth they contained, he paid little
regard to them: in fact, being weary
of the favours of fortune, he had just
resolved to pursue those of love.
Mrs. Middleton was the first whom
196 MEMOIRS OF
he attacked: she was one of the hand-
somest women in town, though then —
little known at court: so much of a
coquette as to discourage no one; and
so great was her desire of appearing
magnificently, that she was ambitious
to vie with those of the greatest for-
’ tunes, though unable to support the
expence. All this suited the Chevalier
de Grammont; therefore, without
trifling away his time in useless cere-
monies, he applied to her porter for
admittance, and chose one of her lovers
for his confidant. he
This lover, who was not deficient
in wit, was at that time a Mr. Jones,
afterwards Earl of Ranelagh: what en-
gaged him to serve the Chevalier de
Grammont, was to traverse the designs
of a most dangerous rival, and to re-
lieve himself from an expence which
began to lie too heavy upon him. In
COUNT GRAMMONT. 197
both respects the Chevalier answered
his purpose.
Immediately spies were placed,
letters and presents flew about: he
was received as well as he could wish:
he was permitted to ogle: he was
even ogled again; but this was all:
he found that the fair one was very
willing to accept, but was tardy m
making returns. ‘This induced him,
without giving up his pretensions to
her, to seek his fortune elsewhere.
Among the Queen’s maids of ho-
nour, there was one called Warmestre:
she was a beauty very different from
the other. Mrs. Middleton was well
made, fair and delicate; but had in
her behaviour and discourse something
precise and affected. The indolent
languishing airs she gave herself did
not please every body: people grew
weary of those sentiments of delicacy,
198 MEMOIRS OF
which she endeavoured to explain
without understanding them herself;
and instead of entertaining she became
tiresome. In these attempts she gave
herself so much trouble, that she made
the company uneasy, and her ambition ©
to pass for a wit, only established her —
the reputation of being tiresome,
which lasted much longer than as
beauty.
Miss Warmestre was brown: she
had no shape at all, and still less air;
but she had a very lively complexion,
very sparkling eyes, tempting looks,
which spared: nothing that might en-
gage a lover, and promised every thing
which could preserve him. In the
end, it very plainly appeared that her
consent went along with her eyes to —
the last degree of indiscretion. |
It was between these two goddesses
that the inclinations of the Chevalier
COUNT GRAMMONT. 199
de Grammont stood wavering, and be-
tween whom his presents were divided.
Perfumed gloves, pocket looking-
glasses, elegant boxes, apricot paste,
essences, and other small wares of love,
arrived every week from Paris, with
some new suit for himself; but, with
regard to more solid presents, such as
ear-rings, diamonds, brilliants, and_
bright guineas, all these were to be
met with of the best sort in London,
and the ladies were as well pleased with
them as if they had been brought from
abroad.
Miss Stewart’s beauty began at this
time to be celebrated. The Countess
of Castlemaine perceived that the King
paid attention to her; but, instead of
being alarmed at it, she favoured, as
far as she was able, this new inclina-
tion, whether from an_ indiscretion
common to all those who think them-
200 MEMOIRS OF
selves superior to the rest of mankind, —
or whether she designed, by this pas-
time, to divert the King’s attention
from her connection with Jermyn.
She was not satisfied with appearing
without any degree of uneasiness at a
preference which all the court began
to remark: she even affected to make
Miss Stewart her favourite, and in-
vited her to all the entertainments she
made for the King; and, in confidence
of her own charms, with the greatest.
indiscretion, she often kept her to
sleep. The King, who seldom neg-
lected to visit the Countess before she
rose, seldom failed likewise to find
Miss Stewart in bed with her. The.
most indifferent objects have charms
in a new attachment: however, the.
imprudent Countess was not jealous of |
this rival’s appearing with her, in such |
a situation, being confident, that
COUNT GRAMMONT. } } 201
whenever she thought fit, she could
triumph over all the advantages which
these opportunities could aftord Miss
Stewart; but she was quite mistaken.
The Chevalier de Grammont took
notice of this conduct, without being
able to comprehend it; but, as he was
attentive to the inclinations of the
King, he began to make his court to
him, by enhancing the merit of this
“new mistress. Her figure was more
shewy than engaging: it was hardly
possible for a woman to have less wit,
or more beauty: all her features were
fine and regular; but her shape was
not good: yet she was slender, straight
enough, and taller than the generality
of women: she was very graceful,
danced well, and spoke French better
than her mother-tongue: she was well
bred, ‘and possessed, in perfection,
that air of dress which is so much ad-
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COUNT GRAMMONT. 903:
_ She was of a middle size, had a
skin. of a dazzling whiteness, fine
hands, and a foot surprizingly beauti-
ful, even in England: long custom
had given such a languishing tender-
ness to her looks, that she never —
_ opened her eyes but like a Chinese ;
and, when she ogled, one would have
thought she was doing something
_ more.
: Jermyn ees of her at first;
but, being soon puzzled what to do
with her, he thought it best to sacri-
fice her to Lady Castlemaine. The
sacrifice was far from being displeasing
to her: it was much to her glory to
__ have carried off Jermyn from so. many
competitors ; but this was of no con-
sequence in the end.
Jacob Hall, the famous rope-dancer,
was at that time in vogue in London:
his strength and agility charmed in
40 - MEMOIRS OF |
public, even to a wish to know what
he was in private; for he appeared, in
his tumbling dress, to be quite of a
different make, and to have limbs very
different from the fortunate Jermyn.
The tumbler did not deceive Lady ~
Castlemaine’s expectations, if report
may be believed; and, as was intimated
in many a song, much more to the
honour of the rope-dancer than of the
Countess; but she despised all these
rumours, and only appeared still more
handsome. :
7 While satire thus found employ-
mént at her expence, there were con-
tinual contests for the favours of an-
other beauty, who was not much more —
niggardly in that way than herself:
this was the Countess of Shrewsbury.
The Earl of Arran, who had been
one of her first admirers, was not one
of the last to desert her: this beauty,
COUNT GRAMMONT. 905:
less famous for her conquests, than for
the misfortunes she occasioned, placed
her greatest merits in being more ¢a-
pricious than any other. As no person
could boast of having the exclusive
enjoyment of her favours, so no per-
son could complain of having been ill.
received.
Jermyn was displeased that she had
made no advances to him, without
considering that she had no leisure for
it: his pride was offended; but the at-
tempt which he made to take her from
the rest of her lovers, was very ill-ad-
vised.
Thomas Howard, brother to the
Earl of Carlisle, was one of them:
there was not a braver, nor a more
genteel man, in England; and though
he was of a modest demeanour, and his
manners appeared gentle and pacific,
no person was more spirited, nor more
206 - MEMOIRS OF -
passionate. Lady Shrewsbury, incon-
siderately returning the first ogles of
the invincible Jermyn, did not at all
make herself more agreeable to How-
ard: that,. however, she paid little
attention to; yet, as she designed to
keep fair with him, she consented to
accept an entertainment which he had
often proposed, and which she durst
no longer refuse. A place of amuse-
ment, called Spring Garden, was fixed
upon for the scene of this entertain-
ment. |
As soon as the party was settled,
Jermyn was privately informed of it.
Howard had a company in the guards,
and one of the soldiers of his company
played pretty well on the bagpipes: —
this soldier was therefore at the enter-
tainment. Jermyn was at the garden,
as by chance; and, puffed up with his
former successes, he trusted to his
COUNT GRAMMONT. 207
victorious air for accomplishing this
last enterprize: he no sooner appeared
on the walks, than her ladyship shewed
herself upon the balcony.
_ I know not how she stood affected
to her hero; but Howard did not fancy
him much: this did not prevent his
coming up stairs, upon the first sign
she made to him; and not content
with acting the petty tyrant, at an en-
tertainment not made for himself, no
sooner had he gained the soft looks of
the fair one, than he exhausted all his
common-place, and all his stock of low
irony, in railing at the entertainment,
and ridiculing the music.
Howard possessed but little raillery,
and still less patience: three times was
the banquet on the point of being
stained with blood; but three times
did he suppress his natural impetuosity,
908. - MEMOIRS OF
in order to satisfy his resentment else-
where with greater freedom.
Jermyn, without paying the least
attention to his ill-humour, pursued. —
his point, contmued. talking to Lady
Shrewsbury, and did not leave her
until the repast was ended. » ;
He went to bed, proud of this tri-
umph, and was waked next morning:
by a challenge: he took, for his second,
Giles Rawlings, a. man‘of intrigue, and
a deep player. Howard took Dillon,
who was dexterous and brave, much of
a gentleman, and, unfortunately, an_
intimate friend to Rawlings.
In this duel fortune did not side
with the votaries of love: poor Raw-
lings was left stone dead; and Jermyn,
having received three wounds, was
carried to his uncle’s, with very little
sions of life. |
COUNT GRAMMONT. 209
While the report of this event en-
gaged the courtiers, according to their
several interests, the Chevalier de
Grammont was informed by Jones,
his friend, his confident, and his rival,
that there was another gentleman very
attentive to Mrs. Middleton. This was.
Montagu, no very dangerous rival on
account of his person, but very much
to be feared for his assiduity, the acute-
ness of his wit, and for some other
talents, which are of importance, when
a man is once permitted to display
them.
There needed not half so much to
bring into action all the Chevalier’s
vivacity, in point of competition: jea-
lousy awakened in him whatever ex-
pedients the desire of revenge, malice,
and experience, could suggest, for
troubling the designs of a rival, and.
tormenting a mistress. His first inten-
VOL. I. ie
910° MEMOIRS OF
tion was to return her letters, and de-
mand his presents, before he began to.
tease her; but, rejecting this project,
as too weak a revenge for the injustice
done him, he was upon the point of
conspiring the destruction of poor Mrs.
Middleton, when, by accident, he met
with Miss Hamilton. From that mo-
ment ended all his resentment against
Mrs. Middleton, and all his attach-
ment to Miss Warmestre: no longer
was he inconstant: no longer were his
wishes fluctuating: this object fixed
them all; and, of all his former habits,
none remained, except uneasiness and
jealousy. | |
Here his first care was to please ;
but he very plainly saw, that, to suc-
ceed, he must act in a very different
manner to what he had done in former
instances.
The family of the Hamiltons, being
COUNT GRAMMONT. 911
very numerous, lived in a large and
- commodious house near the court: the
Duke of Ormond’s family was con-
tinually with them ; and here persons
of the greatest distinction in London
constantly met: the Chevalier de
Grammont was here received in a man-
ner agreeable to his merit and quality,
and was astonished that he had spent
so much time in other places; for,
after having made this acquaintance,
he was desirous of no other.
All the world agree, that Miss Ha-
milton was worthy of the most ardent
and sincere affection: nobody could
boast a nobler birth, nothing could be
more charming than her person.
NOT ES
ILLUSTRATIONS
TO THE
FIRST VOLUME.
ice
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
P.5. Bussi and St. Evremont.| Voltaire,
in the Age of Lewis XIV. ch. 24, speaking
of that monarch, says, ‘ even at the same
time when he began to encourage genius by
his liberality, the Count de Bussi was se-
verely punished for the use he made of his:
he was sent to the Bastile in 1664. THE
AMOURS OF THE GauULs was the pretence
of his imprisonment; but. the true cause was
the song, in which the king was treated with
too much freedom, and which, upon this
occasion, was brought to remembrance to
ruin Bussi, the reputed author of it.
Que Deodatus est heureux,
De baiser ce bec amoreux,
Qui d’une oreille a ]’autre va}
See Deodatus with his billing dear,
Whose amorous mouth breathes love from ear
to ear.
216 NOTES.
‘ His works were not good enough to com-
pensate for the mischief they did him. He
spoke his own language with purity; he had
some merit, but more conceit: and he made
no use of the merit he had, but to make
himself enemies.’ Voltaire adds, ‘ Bussi
was released at the end of eighteen months:
but he was in disgrace all the rest of his life,
in vain protesting a regard for Lewis XIV.’
Bussi died 1693. Of St. Evremont, see note
on p. 187.
P.7. Louis XIII.] Son and successor of
Henry IV. He began to reign 14th May,
1610, and died 14th May, 1643.
Ibid. Cardinal de Richelieu.| Of this
great minister Mr. Hume gives the follow-
ing character.—* This man had no sooner,
by suppleness and intrigue, gotten posses-
sion of the reins of government, than he
formed at once three mighty projects; to
subdue the turbulent spirits of the great, to
reduce the rebellious Hugonots, and to curb
the encroaching power of the House of Aus-
tria. Undaunted and implacable, prudent
and active, he braved all the opposition of
the French princes and nobles in the pro-
NOTES. 217
‘secution of his vengeance; he discovered
and dissipated all their secret cabals and
conspiracies. His sovereign himself he held —
in subjection, while he exalted the throne.
The people, while they lost their liberties, ac-
quired by means of his administration, learn-
ing, order, discipline, and renown. That con-
fused and inaccurate genius of government, -
of which France partook in common with
other European. kingdoms, he changed into
a simple monarchy; at the very time, when
the incapacity of Buckingham encouraged
the free spirit of the commons to establish in
England a regular system of liberty.’ (His-
tory of England, Vol. IV. p.232.) Cardinal
Richelieu died December 1642.
P.8. Siege of Trino.] Trino was taken
August 1643.
P.9. Prince [Thomas] Of Savoy, uncle
of the reigning duke. He died 1656.
Ibid. Asthe post of Lieutenant Generalwas
not then known. The author has here com-
mitted a mistake, for in the year 1638, while
the Duke of Weimar was besieging Brisac,
Cardinal Richelieu sent him two reinforce-
ments under the conduct of Turenne and the
218 ' NOTES.
Count de Guébriant, as LisurENANT-GE-
NERALS, a rank till that time not known in
France. —Memoires de Turenne.
Ibid. Du Plessis Praslin.] Afterwards
Maréchal and Duke de Choiseul. He re-
tired from the army in 1672. Monsieur He-
nault, in his History of France under that
year, says, ‘ Le Maréchal du Plessis ne fit
pas cette campagne a cause de son grand
age; il dit au roi, qu’il portoit envie a ses
enfans, qui avoient l’honneur de servir sa
majesté, que pour lui il souhaitoit la mort,
puisqu’il n’etoit plus bon a rien: le roi ’em-.
brassa, et lui dit: M. le Maréchal, on ne
travaille que pour approcher de la reputation
que vous avez acquis; il est pidect de se
reposer apres tant de victoires.’
Ibid. Viscount Turenne.] This great ge-
neral was killed July 27, 1675, by a cannon
shot, near the village of Saltzback, in going
to choose a place whereon to erect a bat-
tery.—* No one,’ says Voltaire, ‘ is ignorant
of the circumstances of his death; but we
cannot here refrain a review of the principal
of them, for the same reason that they are
still talked of every day. It seems as if one
NOTES. 219
could not too often repeat, that the same
bullet which killed him, having shot off the
arm of St. Hilaire, lieutenant general of the
artillery, his son came and bewailed his mis-
fortune with many tears: but the father,
looking towards Turenne, said, ‘ It is not I,
but that great man, who should be lamented.’
These words may be compared with the most
heroic sayings recorded in all history; and
the best eulogy that can be bestowed upon
Turenne. It is uncommon under a despotic
government, where people are actuated only
by their private interests, for those who have
served their country to die regretted by the
public. Nevertheless, Turenne was lamented
both by the soldiers and people; and Lou-
yois was the only one who rejoiced at his
death. ‘The honours which the king ordered
to be paid to his memory are known to
every one; and that he was interred at St.
Denis, in the same manner as the Constable
du Gueselin, above whom he was elevated
by the voice of the public, as much as the
age of T'urenne was superior to the age of
the constable.
‘ Turenne had not always been successful
290 NOTES.
in his wars: he had been defeated at Ma-
viendal, Retel, and Cambray: he had also
committed errors, and was himself so great
a man as to confess them, He never made
great and celebrated conquests, nor ever
gained those great and important victories,
by which nations are subjected: but having
always repaired his defeats, and done a great
deal with a little, he was regarded as the -
greatest general in Europe, at a time when
the art of war was more studied and better
understood than ever. Moreover, though
he was reproached for his infidelity in the
wars of the Fronde; though, at the age of
sixty years, love made him reveal the secrets
of the state; and though he had exercised
cruelties in the Palatinate, which did not ap-
pear necessary; yet he had always the hap-
piness to preserve the reputation of an honest,
wise, and moderate man; because his virtues
and his great abilities, which were peculiar
to himself, made those errors and weaknesses
pardonable in him, which he had in com,
mon with the rest of mankind. If he can
be compared to any one, we presume, that
among all the generals of the preceding
NOTES. 991
ages, Gonzalvo de Cordova, surnamed the
Great General, is the man whom he most
resembles.’—The Age of Lewis IV. ch. 11.
P. 10. Of this number was Matta.] He
died in 1674. ‘ Matta est mort sans confes-
sion,’ says Madame Maintenon in a letter to
her brother. Tome I. p. 67.
P.17. Cesars de Vendosme.| Cesar Duke
de Vendosme, was the eldest son of Henry IV.
by the celebrated Gabriel d’Estrees. He
died in 1665. |
P.18. The college of Pau.| Pau was ne
capital of the principality of Bearn, and lies
on an eminence on the Gave Rearnois, be-
ing indeed small and well built; and for-
merly the seat of a parliament, a bailiwick,
and a chamber of accounts. In the palace
here was born Henry IV. Exclusive of an
academy of sciences and liberal arts, there
was in it a college of Jesuits, with ey con-
vents, and two hospitals.
P. 22. Bidache.| A principality belong-
ing to the family of the Grammonts, in the
province of Gascogny.
P.53. The Baron de Batteville.| ‘This
officer appears to have been the same person
999 . NOTES.
who was afterwards ambassador from Spain
to the court of Great Britain, where, in the
summer of 1660, he offended the French
court, by claiming precedence of their am-
bassador, Count D’Estrades, on the public
entry of the Swedish ambassador into Lon-
don. On this occasion the court of France
compelled its rival of Spain to submit to the
mortifying circumstance of acknowledging
the French superiority. ‘To commemorate
this important victory, Lewis XIV. caused a
medal to be struck, representing the Spanish
ambassador, Marquis de Fuente, making the
declaration to that king, ‘ No concurrer con
los ambassadores de Francia,’ with this in-
scription, ‘ Jus precedendi assertum,’ and
under it, ‘ Hispanorum excusatio coram xxx
legatis principum, 1662.’ A very curious
account of the fray occasioned by this dis-
pute, drawn up by Mr. Evelyn, is to be seen
in that gentleman’s article in the Biographia
Britannica. Lord Clarendon, speaking of
Baron de Batteville, says he was born in
Burgundy, in the Spanish quarters, and bred
a soldier; in which profession he was an of-
ficer of note, and at that time was governor
NOTES. 293°
of St. Sebastian's, and of that province. He
seemed a rough man, and to have more of
the camp, but in truth, knew the intrigues
of a court better than most Spaniards; and
except when his passion surprised him, was
wary and cunning in his negotiation. He-
lived with less reservation and more jollity
than the ministers of that crown used to do;
and drew such of the court to his table and
conversation, who he observed were loud
talkers, and confident enough in the king’s
presence.—Continuation of Clarendon, p.84.
P.58. Madame Royale.| Christina, se-
cond daughter of Henry IV. married to Vic-
tor Amadeus, Prince of Piedmont, afterwards
Duke of Savoy. She seems to have been:
well entitled to the character here given of
her. Keysler, in his Travels, Vol. I. p. 239,
speaking of a fine villa, called La Vigne de
Madame Royale, near Turin, says, ¢ during
the minority under the regent Christina, both
the house and garden were often the scenes
of riot and debauchery. On this account,
in the king’s advanced age, when he was as
it were inflamed with an external flame of
religion, and with which possibly the admo-
224 NOTES.
nitions of his father confessor might concur,
this place became so odious to him, that
upon the death of Madame Royale he be-
stowed it on the hospital.’ She died in 1663.
P, 60. The Marchioness de Senantes.]
Lord Orford says, the family of Senantes
still remains in Piedmont, and bears the title
of Marquis de Carailles.
P. 64. La Venerie.| This place is thus
described by Keysler. ‘Travels, Vol. I.
p- 235.—* The palace most frequented by
the royal family is La Venerie, the court
generally continuing there from the Spring
to December. It is about a league from
Turin: the road that leads to it is well paved,
and the greatest part of it planted with trees
on each side: it is not always in a direct
line, but runs a little winding between fine
meadows, fields, and vineyards.’ After de-
scribing the palace as it then was, he adds,
‘ The palace garden at present consists only
of hedges and walks, whereas formerly it
had fine water-works and grottos, besides -
the fountain of Hercules and the temple of
Diana, of which a description may be seen
in the Nouveau Theatre de Piedmont. But —
NOTES. 995
now nothing of these remains, being gone to
ruin, partly by the ravages of the French,
and partly by the king’s order that they
should be demolished, to make room for:
something else; but those vacuities have not
yet, and are tana will not very soon be
filled up.’
~P.119. The Bias de Condé.| Lewis
of Bourbon, Duke d’Enguien, afterwards, by
the death of his father in 1646, Prince de
Condé. Of this great man Cardinal de Retz
says, ‘ he was born a general, which never
happened but to Cesar, to Spinola, and to
himself. He has equalled the first: he has
surpassed the second. Intrepidity is one of
the least shining strokes in his character.
Nature had formed him with a mind as great
as his courage. Fortune, in setting him out
in a time of wars, has given this last a full
extent to work in: his birth, or rather his
education, in a family devoted and enslaved
to the court, has kept the first within too
strait bounds. He was not taught time
enough the great and general maxims which.
alone are able to form men to think always
VOL, I. Q
ow
226 NOTES.
consistently. He never had time to learn
them of himself, because he was prevented,
from his youth, by the great affairs that fell
‘unexpectedly to his share; and ‘by the con-
tinual success he met with. This defect in
him was the cause, that with the soul in the
world the least inclined to evil, he has com-
mitted ‘injuries; that with the heart of an
Alexander, he has, like him, had his failings;
that with a wonderful understanding, he has
acted imprudently; that having all the qua-
lities which the Duke Francis of Guise had,
he has not served the state in some occa-
sions so well as he ought; and that having
likewise all the qualities of the Duke Henry
of Guise, he has not carried faction so far as
he might. He could not come up to the
height of his merit; which though it be a
defect, must yet be owned to be very un-
common, and only to be found in persons of
the greatestabilities.’ Memoirs, Vol. I. p.248,
edit. 1723. Hie retired from the army soon
after the death of Turenne to Chantilly, ‘ from
« whence, says Voltaire, ‘ he very rarely came
to Versailles, to behold his glory eclipsed in
NOTES. 297
a place where the courtier never regards any
thing but favour. He passed the remainder
of his days, tormented with the gout, re-
lieving the severity of his pains, and em-
ploying the leisure of his retreat, in the con-
versation of men of genius of all kinds, with
_ which France then abounded. He was
_ worthy of their conversation; as he was not
unacquainted with any of those arts and
sciences in which they shone. He conti-
nued to be admired even in his retreat; but
at last that deyouring fire, which in his youth
had made him a hero, impetuous and full of
passions, having consumed the strength of
his body, which was naturally rather agile
than robust, he declined before his time;
and the strength of his mind decaying with
that of his body, there remained nothing of
the great Condé, during the last two years
of his life: he died in 1686. Age of
Lewis XIV. chap. 11. He was aged 66
years, | :
P.119. Battles of Lens, Norlinguen, and
Fribourg.| These were fought in the years
1648, 1645, and 1644.
228 NOTES.
P. 121. The Queen.] Anne of Austria, —
daughter of Philip III. of Spain, widow of
Lewis XIII. to whom she was married in
1615, and mother of Lewis XIV. She died
in 1666. Cardinal de Retz speaks of her in
the following terms. ‘ The queen had more
than any body whom I ever knew, of that _
sort of wit which was necessary for her not
to appear a fool to those that did not know
her. She had in her more of harshness than
haughtiness; more of haughtiness than of
greatness; more of outward appearance than
reality; more regard to money than libe-
rality ; more of liberality than of self-interest ;
more of self-interest than disinterestedness:
she was more tied to persons by habit than
by affection; she had more of insensibility
than of cruelty; she had a better memory
for injuries than for benefits; her intention
towards piety was greater than her piety;
she had in her more of obstinacy than of
firmness; and more incapacity than of all
the rest which I mentioned vs taipt Me-
motrs, Vol. I. p. 247. ;
Ibid. The policy of the Minister.) Car-
NOTES. 229
dinal Mazarine, who during a few of the
latter years of his life governed France. He
died at Vincennes the 9th of March, 1661,
aged 59 years, leaving as heir to his name
and property the Marquis de la Meilleray,
who married his niece, and took the title of
Duke of Mazarine. On his death Lewis XIV.
and the court appeared in mourning, an ho-
nour not common, though Henry IV. had
shewn it to the memory of Gabrielle d’Etreés.
Voltaire, who appears unwilling to ascribe
much ability to the Cardinal, takes an op-
portunity, on occasion of his death, to make
the following observation.’ We cannot re-
frain from combating the opinion, which
supposes prodigious abilities, and a genius
almost divine, in those who have governed
empires with some degree of success. It is
not a superior penetration that makes states-
men; it is their character. All men, how
inconsiderable soever their share of sense
may be, see their own interest nearly alike.
A citizen of Bern or Amsterdam, in this re-
spect, is equal to Sejanus, Ximenes, Buck-
ingham, Richelieu, or Mazarine; but our
230 NOTES.
conduct, and our enterprizes, depend abso-
-Jutely on our natural dispositions, and our
success depends upon fortune. Age of
Lewis XIV. chap. 5.
P.124. The archduke.| Leopold, seater
of the Emperor Ferdinand III.
Ibid. Peronne.] A little but strong town,
standing among marshes on the river Somme,
in Picardy. |
P.125. The battle of Rocroy. | This famous
battle was fought and won 19th May, 1643,
_ five days after the death of Lewis XIII.
Ibid. The Siege of Arras.| Voltaire ob-
serves, that it was the fortune of Turenne
and Condé to be always victorious when
they fought at the head of the French, and
to be vanquished when they commanded the
Spaniards. This was Condé’s fate before
Arras, August 25, 1654, when he and the
archduke besieged that city. Turenne at-
tacked them in their camp, and forced their
lines: the troops of the archduke were cut
to pieces; and Condé with two regiments of
French and Lorrainers, alone sustained the
efforts of Turenne’s army; and while the
NOTES. 231
archduke was flying he defeated the Marshal
de Hoquincourt, repulsed the Marshal de la
Ferté, and retreated victoriously himself, by
covering the retreat of the vanquished Spa-
niards.. The King of Spain’s in his letter to
him after this engagement, contained these
words: ‘I have been informed that every
thing was lost, ahd that you have recovered
every thing.’
P. 129. The Duke of York.| Priorato, in
his Memoirs of Cardinal Mazarine, mentions
other Englishmen besides. the Duke of York
being present; as Gerard, Berkely, and Jer-
myn, with others. Memoirs, 12mo. 1673.
Tome I, pt. 3. p. 305. See ou the Duke of
York’s Memoirs.
Ibid. Marquis de Humieres.| Lewis de
Crevans, Marechal of France. He died
1694. Voltaire says of him, that he was the
first who at the siege of Arras, in 1654, was
served in silver in the trenches, and had ra-
gouts and entremets. served up to his table.
P. 139. Montmorency.| Henry Duke of
Montmorency, who was taken prisoner Ist
232 NOTES.
September, 1632, and had his head struck —
off at Thoulouse in the month of November |
following.
P. 145. Bapaume,| A fortified town in
Artois, seated in a barren country, without
rivers or springs; and having an old palace,
which gave rise to the town, with a parti-
cular governor of its own, a royal and forest
court. In 1641 the French took it from the
Spaniards, ‘i
P. 152. Without doubt he would have
given him some severe reply.| This spirit seems
not always to have attended him in his trans-
actions with the cardinal. On occasion of
the entry of the king in 1660, ‘ Le Che-
valier de Grammont, Rouville, Bellefonds,
and some other courtiers attended in the car-
dinal’s suite, a degree of flattery which asto-
nished every body who knew him. I was
informed that the Chevalier wore a very
rich olive-coloured dress on, that occasion.’
Lettres de Maintenon, Tome I. p. 32.
P. 153. Peter Mazarine,| Peter Maza-
rine was father to the cardinal. He was a
NOTES. 933
native of Palermo in Sicily, which place he
left in order to settle at Rome, where he
~ died in the year 1664.
P. 158. The peace of the Pyrenees.| This
treaty was concluded 7th November, 1659.
Ibid. The king’s marriage.| Lewis XIV.
with Mary Theresa of Austria. She was born
20th September 1638, married Ist June,
1660, and entered Paris 26th August fol-
lowing. She died at Versailles 30th July,
1683, and was buried at St. Denis.
Ibid. The return of Prince de Condé.]
11th April,—See De Retz’s Memoirs, Vol. III.
p- 119. .
P. 163. La Motte Houdancourt, Me-
neville.| These two ladies at this period seem
to have made a distinguished figure in the
annals of gallantry. One of their contem-
poraries mentions them in these terms: ¢ in
this case, perhaps, I can give a better ac-
count than most people; as for instance,
they had: raised a report, when the queen-
mother expelled Mademoiselle de la Motte
Agencourt, that it was on his score, when I
am assured upon very good grounds that it
934 NOTES.
was for entertaining the Marquis de Riche-
lieu against her majesty’s express command.
This lady, who was one of her maids of ho-
nour, was a person whom I was _ particu-
larly acquainted with; and that somuch, that
I was supposed to have a passion for her:
she was counted one of the finest women of
the court, and therefore I was not at all
displeased to have it thought so: for except
Mademoiselle de Meneville (who had her
admirers) there was none that could pretend
to dispute it.” Memoirs of the Count de
Rochford, 1696, p. 210. See also Anquetil
Louis XIV. sa Cour et le Regent, Tome I.
p. 46. | | vl
P.168. Exhausted themselves in festivals
and rejoicings for his return.| Bishop Burnet
confirms this account. - © With the restora-
tion of the king,’ says he, ¢ a spirit of extra-
vagant joy spread over the nation, that
brought on with it the throwing off the very
professions of virtue and piety. All ended
in entertainments and drunkenness, which
overrun the three kingdoms to such a de-
gree, that it very much corrupted all their
NOTES. 235 |
morals. Under the colour of drinking the
king’s health, there were great disorders, and
- much riot every where: and the pretences
of religion, both in those of the hypocritical
sort, and of the more honest but no less per-
nicious enthusiasts, gave great advantages,
as well as they furnished much matter to
the profane mockers of true piety.’—His-
tory of his own Times, Vol. I. p. 127. 8vo.
edit. Voltaire says, King Charles ‘ was re-
ceived at Dover by twenty thousand of his
subjects, who fell upon their knees before
him; and I have been told by some old men
who were of this number, that hardly any of
those who were present could refrain from
tears.’ Age of Louis XIV. chap. 5.
_ Ibid. The Chevalier Grammont arrived
about two years after the restoration.| Con-
sequently about the year 1602. The king
returned 290th May, 1660.
_ P.171. At his coronation.] The corona-
tion, however, was not until after the deaths
of the Duke of Gloucester and the Princess
of Orange. It was celebrated 22d and 23d
April, 1661, with uncommon magnificence ;
936 NOTES.
the whole show, as Lord Clarendon observes, |
being the most glorious in the order and ex- -
pence that had ever been seen in England.
The procession began from the Tower, and .
continued so long, that they who rode first
were in Fleet-street when the king issued
from the Tower. The whole ceremonial
took up two days. See Continuation of Cla--
rendon, p.29. Kennet’s Register, 411.
P. 171. The death of the Duke of Glou-.
cester.| This event took place September 3d, -
1660. He died of the small-pox. ‘ Though
mankind,’ as Mr. Macpherson observes, ‘ are
apt to exaggerate the virtues of princes who
happen to die in early youth, their praises.
seem to have done no more than justice to.
the character of Gloucester. He joined in
himself the best qualities of both his bro-
thers: the understanding and good-nature of
Charles, to the industry and application of
James. The facility of the first, was in him
a judicious moderation. The obstinacy of
the latter, was in Gloucester a manly firm-
ness of mind. Attached to the religion, and —
a friend to the constitution of his country,
NOTES. 237
he was. most regretted, when his family re-
garded these the least. The vulgar, who
crowd with eminent virtues and great actions
the years which fate denies to their favour-
ites, foresaw future misfortunes in his death;
and even the judicious supposed that the
measures of Charles might have derived soli-
dity from his judgment and promising parts.
The king lamented his death with all the
vehemence of an affectionate sorrow.’ The
Duke of York was much affected with the
loss of a brother, whose high merit he much
admired. ‘ He was a prince,’ says James,
‘ of the greatest hopes, undaunted courage,
admirable parts, and a clear understanding.’
He had a particular talent at languages.
Besides the Latin, he was master of the
French, the Spanish, the Italian, and Low
Dutch. He was, in short, possessed of all
the natural qualities, as well as acquired
accomplishments necessary to make a great
prince. _ Macpherson’s History of Great
Britain, ch. 1. Bishop Burnet’s charac-
ter of this young prince is also very favour-
238 NOTES.
able. See History of his own. Times, Vol. I.
Pp. 238, ;
P.171. Princess Royal.j Mary, eldest
daughter of Charles I. born November 4th,
1631, married to the Prince of Orange 2d
May, 1641, who died 27th October, 1650.
She arrived in England September 23d, and
died of the small-pox December 24th, 1660,
according to Bishop Burnet, not much la-
mented. ‘ She had lived,’ says that author,
‘in her widowhood for some years with
great reputation, kept a decent court, and
supported her brothers very liberally; and
lived within bounds. But her mother, who
had the art of making herself believe any
thing she had a mind to, upon a conver-
sation with the queen-mother of France,
fancied the King of France might be in-
clined to marry her. So she wrote to her to
come to Paris. In order to that, she made
an equipage far above what she could sup-
port. So she ran herself into debt, sold all
her jewels, and some estates that were in her
power as her son’s guardian, and was not
NOTES. 239
only disappointed of that vain expectation,
but fell into some misfortunes that lessened
the reputation she had formerly lived in.’
History of his own Times, Vol. I. p. 238.
She was mother of William III. :
P.171. The reception of the Infanta of
Portugal.| ‘ The Infanta of Portugal landed
in May (1662) at Portsmouth. The king
went thither, and was married privately by
_ Lord Aubigny, a secular priest, and almoner
to the queen, according to the rites of Rome,
in the queen’s chamber; none present but
the Portuguese ambassador, three more Por-
tuguese of quality, and two or three Por-
tuguese women. What made this necessary
was, that the Earl of Sandwich did not marry
her by proxy, as usual, before she came away. .
How this happened, the duke knows not,
nor did the chancellor know of this private.
marriage. ‘The queen would not be bedded
till pronounced man and wife by Sheldon,
bishop of London.’—Extract 2, from King
James Il’s Journal. Macpherson’s State Pa-
pers, Vol.I. In the same collection is a cu-
rious letter from the king to Lord Claren-
240 7 NOTES.
don, giving his opinion of the queen’ —
having seen her.
Ibid. The king was inferior to rib
Charles II. was born 29th May, 1630, and
died 6th February, 1684-5. His character
is very amply detailed, and accurately de-
picted by George Saville, Marquis of Ha-
lifax, in a volume published by his grand-
daughter the Countess of Burlington, 8vo.
1750. See also Burnet, Clarendon, and pee
field Duke of Buckingham.
P.172. The Duke of York.| James Duke
of York, afterwards King James II. He
was born 15th October, 1633; succeeded his
brother 6th February, 1684-5; abdicated the
crown in 1688; and died 6th September,
1701. Bishop Burnet’s character of him
appears not very far from the truth.—* He
was,’ says this writer, ‘ very brave in his
youth; and so much magnified by Monsieur
Turenne, that till his marriage lessened him,
he really clouded the king, and passed for
’ the superior genius. He was naturally can-
did and sincere, and a firm friend, till affairs
and his religion wore out all his first prin-
NOTES. : O41
ciples and inclinations. He had a great de-
sire to understand affairs: and in order to
that he kept a constant journal of all that
passed, of which he shewed mé a great deal.
The Duke of Buckinghani gave me once a
short but severe character of the two bro-
thers. It was the more severe, because it
was true: the king, he said, could see things
if he would; and the duke would see things
if he could. He had no true judgment, and
was soon determined by those whom he
trusted: but he was obstinate against all
other advices, He was bred with high no-
tions of kingly authority, and laid it down
for a maxim, that all who opposed the king,
were rebels in their hearts. He was perpe-
tually in one amour or other, without being
very nice in his choice: upon which the
king once said, he believed his brother had
his mistresses given him by his priests for pe-
nance. He was naturally eager and revenge-
ful, and was against the taking off any, that
set up in an opposition to the measures or
the court, and who by that means grew po-
VOU... R
242, ' NOTES.
pular in the house of commons. He was.
for rougher methods. He continued many
years dissembling his religion, and seemed |
zealous for the church of England. But it
was chiefly on design to hinder all proposi- |
tions, that tended to unite us among our-
selves. He was a frugal prince, and brought -
his court into method and magnificence, for
he had 100,000/. a year allowed him. He
was made high admiral, and he came to un-
derstand all the concerns of the sea very
particularly.’
P. 173. Miss Hyde.| Miss Anne Hyde,
eldest daughter of Lord Chancellor Claren-
don. King James mentions this marriage
in these terms.—‘ The king at first refused
_the Duke of York’s marriage with Miss Hyde.
Many of the duke’s friends and servants op-
posed it. The king at last consented, and
then the Duke of York privately married
her, and soon after owned the marriage.
Her want of birth was made up by endow- _
ments; and her carriage afterwards became
her acquired dignity.’ Again. ‘ When his
NOTES. 243
Sister, the princess royal, came to Paris to
see the queen-mother, the Duke of York
fell in love with Mrs. Anne Hyde, one of
her maids of honour. Besides her person,
she had all the qualities proper to inflame a
heart less apt to take fire than his; which
she managed so well as to bring his passion
to such an height, that, between the time
he first saw her and the winter before the
king’s restoration, he resolved to marry none
but her; and promised her to do it: and
though at first when the duke asked the king
his brother for his leave, he r¢fused, and dis-
suaded him from it; yet at last he opposed
it no more; and the duke married her pri-
-_vately, owned it some time after, and was
ever after a true friend to the chancellor for
several years.’ Macpherson’s State Papers,
Woy s
Ibid. Her father.| Edward Hyde, Earl
of Clarendon, ‘ for his comprehensive know-
ledge of mankind, styled the chancellor of
human nature. His character at this dis-
tance of time, may, and ought to be impar-
Q44, NOTES.
tially considered. His designing or blinded —
contemporaries heaped the most unjust abuse
upon him. The subsequent age, when the ©
partizans of prerogative were at least the
loudest, if not the most numerous, smit with
a work that deified their martyr, have been |
unbounded in their encomium.’ Catalogue
of noble Authors, Vol. II. p.18. Lord Or-
ford, who professes to steer a middle course, -
and separate his great virtues as a man, from
his faults as an historian, acknowledges that
he possessed almost every virtue of a minister,
which could make his character venerable.
He died in exile in the year 1674.
Ibid. The Duke of Ormond.| James But-
ler, Duke of Ormond, born 19th October,.
1610, and died 21st July, 1688. Lord Cla-
rendon, in the Continuation of his Life, ob-
serves, that * he frankly engaged his person
and his fortune in the king’s service, from the
first hour of the troubles, and pursued it
with that courage and constancy, that when
the king was murdered, and he deserted by
the Irish, contrary to the articles of peace
NOTES. 245
which they had made with him, and when
he could make no longer defence, he refused
all the conditions which Cromwell offered,
who would have given him all his vast estate
if he would have been contented to live
quietly in some of his own houses, without
further concerning himself in the quarrel,
and transported himself, without so much as
accepting a pass from his authority, in a
little weak vessel into France, where he
found the king; from whom he never parted
till he returned with him into England.
Having thus merited as much as a subject
can do from a prince, he had much more
credit and esteem with the king than any
other man.’ Continuation of the Life of
Lord Clarendon, p. 4. fol.edit. Bishop Bur-
net says of him, ‘ he was a man every way
fitted for a court. Of a graceful appearance,
lively wit, and acheerful temper. A man
of great expence; decent even in his vices,
for he always kept up the form of religion.
He had gone through many transactions in
Ireland with more fidelity than success. He
Bw sa
246 NOTES.
had made a treaty with the Irish, which was
broken by the great body of them, though
some few of them adhered still to him. But
the whole Irish nation did still pretend, that
though they had broke the agreement first,
yet he, or rather the king, 11 whose name he
had treated with them, was bound to per-
form all the articles of the treaty. He had
miscarried so in the siege of Dublin, that it
very much lessened the opinion of his mili-
tary conduct. Yet his constant attendance
on his master, his easiness to him, and his.
great suffering for him, raised him to be
lord steward of the household, and lord lieu-
tenant of Ireland. He was firm to the pro-
testant religion, and so far firm to the laws,
that he always gave good advices: but when
bad ones were followed, he was not for com-
~ plaining too much of pie > History tie
own Times, Vol. I. p. 230.
P. 174. Disstpated without splendour an
immense estate upon which he had just en-
tered.| ‘The Duke of Buckingham is again
one hundred and forty thousand pounds in
NOTES. OAT
debt; and by this prerogation his creditors
have time to tear all his lands to pieces.’
Andrew Marvell’s Works, Ato edit. Vol. I.
p- 406. |
Ibid. The Earl of St. Alban’s.| Henry
Jermyn, Earl of St. Alban’s and Baron of
St. Edmund’s Bury. He was master of the
horse to Queen Henrietta, and one of the
privy council to Charles II. In July, 1660,
he was sent ambassador to the court of
France, and in 1671 was made lord cham-
berlain of his majesty’s household. He died
January 2d, 1683. Sir John Reresby as-
serts, that Lord St. Alban’s was married to
Queen Henrietta. ‘ The abbess of an Eng-
lish College in Paris, whither the queen used
to retire, would tell me,’ says Sir John, ¢ that
Lord Jermyn, since St. Alban’s, had the
queen greatly in awe of him: and indeed it
was obvious that be had great interest with .
her concerns; but that he was married to
her, or had children by her, as some have
reported, I did not then believe, though the
thing was certainly so.’ Memoirs, p. 4.
248 NOTES.
Ibid. Sir Charles Berkeley.] This Sir
Charles Berkeley was second: son of Sir
——— Berkley, of Bruton in Gloucester-_
shire, and was the principal favourite and -
companion of the Duke of York in all his
campaigns, He was created Baron Berk-
ley of Rathdown, Viscount Fitzharding of
Ireland, and Baron Bottetort and Earl of
Falmouth in England, 17th March, 1664.
He had the address to secure himself in the
affections equally of the king and his bro-
ther at the same time. Lord Clarendon,
who seems to haye conceived, and with rea-
son, a prejudice against him, calls him ‘a
fellow of great wickedness,’ and says, * he
was one in whom few other men (except the
king) had ever observed any virtue or qua-
lity, which they did not wish their best
friends without. He was young, and of an
insatiable ambition; and a little more expe-
rience might have taught him all things
which his weak parts were capable of.’ Cla-
rendon’s Life, p. 34, 267. Bishop Burnet,
however, is rather more favourable, ‘ Berk-
NOTES. 249
ley,’ says he, ‘ was generous in his expence:
and it was thought if he had outlived the
-lewdness of that time, and come to a more
sedate course of life, he would have put the
king on great and noble designs.’ History,
Vol. I. p. 187. He lost his life in the action
at Southwold Bay, the 2d June, 1665, by a
shot, which at the same time killed Lord
Muskerry and Mr. Boyle, as they were stand-
ing on the quarter-deck near the Duke. of
York, who was coyered with their blood.
‘Lord Falmouth,’ as King James observes,
‘ died not worth a farthing, though not ex-
pensive.’ Macpherson’s State Papers, Vol.1.
He was, however, lamented by the king with
floods of tears, to the amazement of all who
had seen how unshaken he stood on other
assaults of fortune.’ Clarendon’s Life, p. 269.
P.175. The Earl of Arran.] Richard
Butler, Earl of Arran, fifth son of James
Butler, the first Duke of Ormond. He-was
born 15th July, 1639, and educated with
great care, being taught every thing suitable
to his birth, and the great affection his pa-
250 NOTES.
rents had for him. As he grew up, he dis-
tinguished himself by a brave and excellent
disposition, which determined him to a mili-
tary life. When the duke his father was
first made lord lieutenant of Ireland after
the restoration, his majesty was pleased, by
his letter dated April 23, 1662, to create
Lord Richard, Baron Butler of Cloghgrenan,
Viscount Tullogh in the county of Cather-
lough, and Earl of Arran, with remainder to
his brother. In September, 1664, he married
Lady Mary Stuart, only surviving danghter of
James Duke of Richmond and Lennox, by
Mary, the only daughter of the great Duke
of Buckingham, who died in July, 1667, at
the age of eighteen, and was interred at Kil-
kenny. He distinguished himself in reduc-
ing the mutineers at Carrick-Fergus, and
behaved with great courage in the famous
sea-fight with the Dutch in 1673. In Au-
gust that yeat, he was created Baron Butler
of Weston, in the county of Huntingdon. He
married, in the preceding June, Dorothy,
daughter of Jolin Ferrars of Tamworth
NOTES. Q51
Castle, in Warwickshire, Esq. In 1682, he
_ was constituted lord deputy of Ireland, upon
his father’s going over to England, and held
that office until August, 1684, when the duke
returned. In the year 1686, he died at Lon-
don, and was interred in Westminster Ab-
bey, leaving an only daughter, Charlotte,
who was married to Charles Lord Cornwallis,
P.176. The Earl of Ossory.] Thomas Earl
of Ossory, eldest son of the first, and father
of the last Duke of Ormond, was born at
Kilkenny, sth July, 1634. At the age of
twenty-one years he had so much distin-
guished himself, that Sir Robert Southwell
then drew the following character of him,
‘ He is a young man with a very handsome
face; a good head of hair; well set; very
good-natured; rides the great horse very
well; is a very good tennis-player, fencer,
and dancer; understands music, and plays
on the guitar and lute; speaks French ele-
gantly; reads Italian fluently; is a good his-
torian; and so well versed in romances, that
if a gallery be full of pictures and hangings,
952 NOTES.
he-will tell the stories of all that are there
described. He shuts up his door at eight
o'clock in the evening, and studies till mid-
night; he is temperate, courteous, and ex-
cellent in all his behaviour.’ His death was
occasioned by a fever, 30th July, 1680, to
the grief of his family and the public. ~
Ibid. The elder of the Hamiltons. |
The elder Hamilton, here described, was I
conceive James Hamilton, eldest son of Sir
George Hamilton, fourth son of the Earl of
Abercorn, by Mary Butler, third sister to
James the first Duke of Ormond; brother
to George Hamilton afterwards mentioned,
and to Anthony Hamilton the author of
these memoirs, This gentleman was a great
favourite with King Charles Il. who made
him a groom of his bedchamber and co-
lonel of a regiment. In an engagement
with the Dutch he had ‘one of his legs
taken off by a cannon ball, of which wound
he died 6th June, 1673, and soon after was
brought home, and buried in Westminster
abbey. a ae
NOTES. 253
P.177. The handsome Sydney.] Robert
_ Sydney, third son of the Earl of Leicester, and
brother of the famous Algernon Sydney,
who was beheaded. This is Lord Orford’s
account; though, on less authority, I should
have been inclined to have considered Henry
Sydney, his younger brother, who was after-
wards created Earl of Romney, and died 8th
April, 1704, as the person intended. There
are some circumstances which seem particu-
larly to point to him. Burnet, speaking of
Aim, says, ‘ he was a graceful man, and had
lived, long in the court, where he had some
adventures that became very public. He was
a man of a sweet and caressing temper, had
no malice in his heart, but too great a love
of pleasure. He had been sent envoy to
Holland in the year 1679, where he entered
into such particular confidences with the
prince, that he had the highest measure of
his trust and favour that any Englishman ever
had.’ History of his own Times, Vol. I.
p- 494. tid
In the Essay on Satire, by Dryden and
254 — NOTES.
Howard, he is spoken of in no very decent
terms, | Biter
* And little Syd. for simile renown’d,
Pleasure has always sought, but never found:
Though all his thoughts on wine and women fall,
His ave so bad, sure he ne’er thinks at all.
The flesh he lives upon is rank and strong;
His meat and mistresses are kept too long,
But sure we all mistake this pious man,
Who mortifies his person all he can:
What we uncharitably take for sin,
Are only rules of this odd capuchin ;
For never hermit, under grave pretence,
Has liv’d more contrary to common sense.”
Robert Sydney died at Penshurst, 1674.
Ibid. The queen-dowager his mistress lived
not over well in France.| To what a miserable
state the queen was reduced may beseen in the
following extract from the Memoirs of Car-
dinal De Retz. ‘ Four or five days before the
king removed from Paris, I went to: visit the
Queen of England, whom I found in her >
daughter’s chamber, who hath been since
Duchess of Orleans. At my coming in she
.
NOTES. 255
said, ‘ You see I am come to keep Henrietta
company. The poor child could not rise to-
day for want of a fire.’ The truth is, that
the cardinal for six months together had not
ordered her any money towards her pension,
that no tradespeople would trust her for
any thing; and that there was not at her
lodgings in the Louvre one single billet.
You will do me the justice to suppose that
the Princess of England did not keep her
bed the next day for want of a faggot; but
it was not this which the Princess of Condé
meant in her letter. What she spoke about
was, that some days after my visiting the
Queen of England, I remembered the con-
dition I had found her in, and had strongly
represented the shame of abandoning her in
that manner, which caused the parliament
to send 40,000 livres to her majesty. Pos-
terity will hardly believe that a Princess of
England, grand-daughter of Henry the
Great, hath wanted a faggot, in the month
of January, to get out of bed in the Louvre,
and in the eyes of a French court. We
read in histories with horror of baseness less:
256 NOTES.
monstrous than this; and the little concern .
I have met with about it in most people’s —
ininds, has obliged me to make, I believe, a
thousand times this reflection: that exam-
ples of times past move men beyond compa-
rison more than those of their own times.
We accustom ourselves to what we see; and
I have sometimes told you, that I doubted
_ whether Caligula’s horse being made a con-
sul would have surprised us so much as we
imagine.’ Memoirs, Vol. I. p. 261. © .
P.178. Jermyn.| Henry Jermyn, younger
son of Thomas, elder brother of the Earl of
St. Alban’s. He was created Baron Dover
in 1685, and died without children at Cheve-
ley in Cambridgeshire, April 6th, 1708. His
corpse was carried to Bruges in Flanders,
and buried in the monastery of the Carme-
lites there. St. Evremond , who visited Mr.
Jermyn at Cheveley, says, “ we went thither,
and were very kindly received by a person,
who, though he has taken his leave of the
court, has carried the civility and good taste
of it -into the country. S¢#. Evremond’s
Works, Vol. IL. p. 223. :
yi NOTES. 9574
P.179. The princess royal wads the first
who was taken with him.] It was suspected
of this princess to have had a similar engage-
ment with the Duke of Buckingham, as the
queen with Jermyn, and that was the cause
she would not see the duke on his second.
voyage to Holland, in the year 1652.
Ibid. The Countess of Castlemaine | This
lady, who makes so distinguished a figure in
the annals of infamy, was Barbara, daughter
and heir of William Villiers, Lord Viscount
Grandison of the kingdom of Ireland, who
died in 1642, in consequence of wounds re-
ceived at the battle of Edge-hill. She was
married, just before the restoration, to Roger
Palmer, Esq. then a student in the Temple,
and heir to a considerable fortune. In the
13th year of King Charles II. he was created
Earl of Castlemaine in the kingdom of Ire-
land. She had a daughter, born in Fes,
bruary, 166%, while she cohabited with her
husband; but shortly after she became the
avowed mistress of the king, who continued
his connection with her until about the year
1672, when she was delivered of a daughter,
VOL. I. 8
958 NOTES.
‘which was supposed to be Mr. Churchill’s,
afterwards Duke of Marlborough, and which
the king disavowed. Her gallantries were
by no means confined to one or two, nor
were they unknown to his majesty. In the |
year 1670, she was created Baroness of Non-
such in Surrey, Countess of Southampton,
and Duchess of Cleveland during her natural
life, with remainder to Charles and George
Fitzroy, her eldest and third son, and their
heirs male. In July, 1705, her husband died, ~
and in November following she marrieda man
of desperate fortune, known by the name of
Handsome Fielding, who’ behaving in a
manner unjustifiably severe towards her, she
was obliged to have recourse to‘law for pro-
tection. Fortunately it was discovered that
Fielding had already a wife living, by which
means the duchess was enabled to free her-
,self from his authority. She lived about two
years afterwards, and died of a dropsy on
the 9th of October, 1709, in her 69th year.
Bishop Burnet says, ‘ she was a woman of
great beauty, but most enormously vicious
and ravenous; foolish, but imperious; very
NOTES. 259
uneasy to the king, and always carrying on
intrigues with other men, while yet she pre-
- tended she was jealous of him. His passion
for her, and her strange behaviour towards
him, did so disorder him, that often he was
not master of himself, nor capable of mind-
ing business, which in so critical a time re-
quired great application.’ History of his
own Times, Vol. 1. p. 129.
P.180. Lady Shrewsbury.| Anna Maria,
Countess of Shrewsbury, eldest daughter of
Robert Brudenel, Earl of Cardigan, and wife
of Francis, Earl of Shrewsbury, who was
killed in a duel by George, Duke of Buck-
ingham, March 16th, 1667. She afterwards
remarried with George Rodney Bridges, Esq.
second son of Sir Thomas Bridges, of Keyn-
sham, in Somersetshire, Knt. and died April
20th, 1702. By her second husband she had
one son, George Rodney Bridges, who died
in 1751. This woman is said to have been
so abandoned, as to have held, in the habit
of a page, her gallant, the duke’s horse,
while he fought and killed her husband;
260 NOTES.
after which she went to bed with him, stames :
with her husband’s blood. )
Ibid. The Miss Brooks.| One of fae
ladies married Sir John Denham, and is
mentioned hereafter. |
Ibid. The new Queen gave but little bast
tional brilliancy to the court.| Lord Claren- |
don confirms in some measure this account:
‘ There was a numerous family of men and
women, that were sent from Portugal, the most |
improper to promote that conformity in the
queen, that was necessary for her condition
and future happiness, that could be chosen:
the women, for the most part, old and ugly
and proud, incapable of any conversation
with persons of quality and a liberal educa-
tion. And they desired, and indeed had
conspired, so far to possess the queen them-
selves, that she should neither learn the Eng-
lish language, nor use their habit, nor depart _
from the manners and fashions of her own
country in any particulars; which resolu- —
tion,’ they told, ‘ would be for the dignity
of Portugal, and would quickly induce the
NOTES. 261
English ladies to conform to her majesty’s
practice. And this imagination had made
that impression, that the tailor who had
been sent into Portugal to make her clothes,
could never be admitted to see her, or re-
ceive any employment. Nor when she came
to Portsmouth, and found there several ladies
of honour and prime quality to attend her
in the places to which they were assigned by
the king, did she receive eny of them till
the king himself came; nor then with any
grace, or the liberty that belonged to their
places and offices.. She could not be per-
suaded to be dressed out of the wardrobe
that the king had sent to her, but would
wear the clothes which she had brought,
until she found that the king was displeased,
and would be obeyed; whereupon she con-
formed, against the advice of her women,
who continued their opiniatrety, without any
one of them receding from their own mode,
which exposed them the more to reproach.’
Continuation of Clarendon’s Life, p. 168.
In ashort time after their arrival in England;
they were ordered back to Portugal.
262 “NOTES.
P.182. Katharine de Braganza was far
from appearing with splendor in the charming
court where she came to reign; however in
the end she was pretty successful.| Lord Cla-
rendon says, ‘ the queen had beauty and wit
enough to make herself agreeable to him
(the king); and it is very certain, that at their
first meeting, and for some time after, the
king had very good satisfaction in her..———
‘Though she was of years enough to have
had more experience of the world, and of as
much wit as could be wished, and of a hu-
mour very agreeable at some seasons; yet
she had been bred according to the mode and
discipline of her country, in a monastery;
where she had only seen the women who
attended her, and conversed with the reli-
gious who resided there; and without doubt,
in her inclinations, was enough disposed to
have been one of that number. And from
this restraint she was called out to be a great
queen, and to a free conversation in a court
that was to be upon the matter new formed,
and reduced from the manners of a licen-
tious age, to the old rules and limits which
NOTES. 263
had been observed in better times ; to which
regular and decent conformity, the present
disposition of men or women was not enough
inclined to submit, nor the king enough dis-
posed to exact.’ Continuation of Lord Cla-
rendon’s Life, p. 167. After some struggle,
she submitted to the king’s licentious con-
duct, and from that time lived upon easy
terms with him, until his death. On the
30th of March, 1692, she left Somerset
House, her usual residence, and retired to
Lisbon, where she died 31st December, 1705.
N.S.
P. 183. This princess.] ‘ The Duchess of
York,’ says Bishop Burnet, ‘ was a very ex-
traordinary woman. She had great know-
ledge, and a lively sense of things. She
soon understood what belonged toa princess;
and took state on her rather too much. She
writ well; and had begun the duke’s life, of
which she shewed me a volume. It was all
drawn from his journal; and he intended to
have employed me in carrying iton. She
was bred in great strictness in religion, and
practised secret confession.—Morley told me _
264 NOTES.
he was her confessor. She began at twelve
-years old; and continued under his direction
till, upon her father’s disgrace, he was put
from the court. She was. generous and
friendly ; but was too severe an enemy.’
Ffistory of his own Times, Vol. 1. p. 237.
She was contracted to the duke at Breda,
November 24th, 1659; and married at Wor-
cester House, 3d September, 1660, in the
night, between eleven and two, by Dr. Jo-
seph Crowther, the duke’s Chaplain; the
Lord Ossory giving her in marriage. Ken-
mel’s Register, p. 246. She died 31st March,
1671, having previously acknowledged her-
self to be a Roman Catholic.—See also her
character by Bishap Morley. Fence ar
gister, p. 385. 390.
Ibid. The queen-dowager returned afien
the marriage of the princess royal.| Queen
Henrietta Maria arrived at Whitehall, 2d No-
vember, 1660, after nineteen years absence,
She was received with acclamations; and
bonfires. were lighted on the occasion both-
in London and Westminster, She returned
to France with her daughter, the princess
NOTES. 205
Henrietta, 2d January, 1660-1. She arrived
again at Greenwich, 28th July, 1662; and
continued to keep her court in England until
July, 1665, when she embarked for France,
‘and took so many things with her,’ says
Lord Clarendon, ¢ that it was thought by
many that she did not intend ever to return
into England, Whatever her intentions at
that time were, she never did see England
again, though she lived many years after.’
Continuation of Clarendon’s Life, p. 263.
She died at Colombe, near Paris, in August,
1669; and her son, the Duke of York, pro-
nounces the eulogium on her; ¢ She excelled
in all the good qualities of a good wife, of a
good mother, and a good Christian.’ Mac-
pherson’s original Papers, Vol. I.
P. 187. St. Evremond.| Charles de St.
Dennis, Seigneur de St. Evremond, was born
at St. Denis le Guast, in Lower Normandy,
on the Ist of April, 1613. He was educated
at Paris with a view to the profession of the
law; but he early quitted that pursuit, and
went into the army, where he signalized him-
self on several occasions. At the time of
266 NOTES.
the Pyrenean treaty, he wrote a letter cen-
suring the conduct of Cardinal ‘Mazarine,
which occasioned his being banished France.
He first took refuge in Holland; but in 1662:
he removed into England, where he conti-
nued, with a short interval, during the rest
of his life. In 1675, the Duchess of Maza-
rine came to reside in England; and with
her St. Evremond passed much of his time.
He preserved his health and cheerfulness to —
avery great age; and died 9th of September,
1703, aged ninety years, five months, and
twenty days. His biographer, Monsieur Des
Maizeaux, describes him thus: * M. de St.
Evremond had blue, lively and sparkling
eyes, a large forehead, thick eye-brows, a
handsome mouth, and a sneering physiog-
nomy. Twenty years before his death, a
wen grew between his eye-brows, which in
time increased to a considerable bigness.
He once designed to have it cut off, but as
it was no ways troublesome ‘to him, and he
little regarded that kind of deformity, Dr.
Le Fevre advised him to let it alone, lest
such an operation should be attended with
NOTES. : 267
dangerous symptoms in a man of his age.
He would often make merry with himself on
account of his wen, his great leather cap,
and his grey hair, which he chose to wear
rather than a periwig.’ St. Evremond was a
kind of Epicurean philosopher, and drew his
own character in the following terms, in a
letter to Count de Grammont, ‘ He was a
philosopher, equally removed from super-
stition and impiety; a voluptuary, who had
no less aversion from debauchery than incli-
nation for pleasure; aman, who had never felt
the pressure of indigence, and who had never
been in possession of affluence: he lived in
a condition despised by those who have
every thing, envied by those who have no-
thing, and relished by those who make their
reason the foundation of their happiness.
When he was young, he hated profusion,
being persuaded that some degree of wealth
was necessary for the conveniences of a long
life: when he was old, he could hardly en-
dure economy, being of opinion, that want
is little to be dreaded when a man has but
little time left to be miserable. He was well
268 NOTES.
pleased with nature, and did not complain of
fortune. He hated vice, was indulgent to
frailties, and lamented misfortunes. He
sought not after the failings of men with a
design to expose them; he only found what
was ridiculous in them for his own amuse-
ment: he had a secret pleasure in discover-
ing this himself; and would, indeed, have
had a still greater in discovering this to
others, had he not been checked by discre-
tion. Life, in his opinion, was too short to
read all sorts of books, and to burden one’s
memory with a multitude of things, at the
expence of one’s judgment. He did not ap-
ay
ply himself to the most learned writings, in
order to acquire knowledge; but to the most
rational, to fortify his reason. He some-
times chose the most delicate, to give deli-
cacy to his own taste; and sometimes the
most agreeable, to give the same to his own
genius. It remains that he should be de-
scribed, such as he was, in friendship and in
religion. In friendship he was more con-
stant than a philosopher, and more sincere
than a young man of good nature without
NOTES. 269
experience. With regard to religion, his
piety consisted more in justice and charity,
than in penance or mortification. He placed
hisconfidence in God, trusting in his goodness;
and hoping that in the bosom of his provi-
dence, he should find his repose and his feli-
- city.’— He was buried in Westminster abbey.
P. 193. D’Olonne.] Mademoiselle de la-
Loupe, who is mentioned in De Retz’s Me-
moirs, Vol. Lil. p.95. She married the
Count d’Olonne, and became famous for her
gallantries, of which the Count de Bussi
speaks so much, in his ‘ Amorous His-
tory of the Gauls.’ Her maiden name was
Catherine Henrietta d’Angennes, and she
was daughter to Charles d’Angennes, Lord
of la Loupe, Baron of Amberville, by Mary
du Raynier. There is a long character of
her by St. Evremond, in his works, Vol. I.
p- 17. The same writer, mentioning the con- _
cern of some ladies for the death of the Duke
of Candale, says, ‘ But his true mistress (the
Countess d’Olonne) made herself famous by
the excess of her affliction; and had, in my
opinion, been happy, if she had kept it on to
270 NOTES.
the last: one amour is creditable to a lady;
and I know not whether it be not more ad-
vantageous to their reputation than never to
have been in love.’ St. Evremond’s Works,
Vol. IL. p. 24.
Tbid. The Countess de Fiesque. ] This lady
seems to have been the wife of Count de
Fiesque, who is mentioned by St. Evremond,
as ‘ fruitful in military chimeras; who, be-
sides the post of lieutenant-general, which
he had at Paris, obtained a particular com-
mission for the beating up of the quarters,
and other rash and sudden exploits, which
may be resolved upon whilst one is singing
the air of La Barre, or dancing a minuet.’
St. Evremond’s Works, Vol. I. p.6. The
Count’s name occurs very frequently in De
Retz’s Memoirs.
4: (Bat OGs Mr. Jones, afterwards Earl of
Ranelagh.| Richard, the first Earl of Rane-
lagh, was member of the English house of
commons, and vice-treasurer of Ireland,
1674. He held several offices under King
William and Queen Anne, and died 5th Ja-
nuary, 1711. Bishop Burnet says, ‘ Lord
NOTES. 271
Ranelagh was a young man of great parts,
and as great vices: he had a pleasantness in
his conversation that took much with the
king, and had a great dexterity in business.’
History of his own Times, Vol. I. p. 373.
P. 197. Mrs. Middleton.| Mrs. Jane
Middleton, according to Mrs, Granger, was
a woman of small fortune, but great beauty.—
Her portrait is in the gallery at Windsor.
Ibid. Among the queen’s maids of ho-
nour there was one called Warmestre.| Lord
Orford observes, that there is a family of
the name of Warminster settled at Wor-
cester; of which five persons are interred in
the cathedral. One of them was dean of
the church, and his epitaph mentions his at-
tachment to the royal family. Miss War-
minster, however, was only a fictitious name:
the last Earl of Arran, who lived only a short
time after the period these transactions are
supposed to have happened, asserted, that
the maid of honour here spoken of, was Miss
Mary Kirk, sister of the Countess of Oxford;
and who, three years after she was driven
from court, married Sir Thomas Vernon,
272 . NOTES.
under the supposed character of a widow —
It was not improbable she then assumed the
name of Warminster. In the year 1669, the
following is the list of the maids of honour
to the queen: 1. Mrs. Simona Carew. @.
Mrs. Catherine Bainton. 3. Mrs. Henrietta
Maria Price. 4. Mrs. Winifred Wells. The
lady who had then the office of mother of
the maids was Lady Saunderson. See Cham-
berlayne’s Anglie Notitia, 1669, p. 301.
P. 201. Miss Stewart.] Frances, Duchess
of Richmond, daughter of Walter Stewart,
son of Walter, Baron of Blantyre, and wife
of Charles Stewart, Duke of Richmond and
Lenox. A lady of exquisite beauty, if justly
represented in a puncheon made by Roet-
tiere, his majesty’s engraver of the mint, in
order to strike a medal of her, which exhi-
bits the finest face that perhaps was ever
seen. The king was supposed to be despe-
rately in love with her, and it beeame com-
mon discourse, that there was a design on
foot to get him divorced from the queen, in
order to marry this lady. Lord Clarendon —
was thought to have promoted the match
NOTES. 273
with the Duke of Richmond, thereby to pre-
vent the other design, which he imagined
would hurt the king’s character, embroil his
affairs at present, and entail all the evils of a
disputed succession on the nation. Whe-
ther he actually encouraged the Duke of
Richmond’s marriage, doth not appear; but
it is certain that he was so strongly pos-
sessed of the king’s inclination to a divorce,
that even after his disgrace he was persuaded
the Duke of Buckingham had undertaken to
carry that matter through the parliament.
It is certain too that the king considered him
as the chief promoter of Miss Stewart’s mar-
riage, and resented it in the highest degree.
The ceremony took place privately, and it
was publicly declared in April, 1667. From
one of Sir Robert. Southwell’s dispatches,
dated Lisbon, December 2,, 1667, it appears
that the report of the queen’s intended di-
vorce had not then subsided in her native
country. History of the Revolutions of Por-
tugal, 1740, p. 352. The Duchess became
a widow in 1672, and died October 15th,
VOL, I. T
274 7 NOTES.
1702. See Burnet’s History, Ludlow’s Me-
moirs, and Carte’s Life of the Duke of Or-
mond. e v5. ad
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