YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

MEMOIRS OF
COUNT GRAMMONT.

BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND '
EDINBURGH AND LONDON

if,. I'', (' OvIMM'.', AIN'T (>r.NT"F, rt.\MI[,TO,T

jHemoirs

OF

ount

rammont

ANTHONY HAMILTON
A NEW EDITION
EDITED, WITH NOTES, BY
SIR WALTER SCOTT
WITH SIXTY-FOUR PORTRAITS ENGRAVED BY
EDWARD SCRIVEN
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. I.

NEW YORK
SCRIBNER & WELFORD
743 & 747 BROADWAY
1885

LIST OF PORTRAITS.

VOL. I.

IIOTOUNT ANTHONY HAMILTON
%§8m PHILIBERT, COUNT DE GRAMMONT
CARDINAL RICHELIEU
MARESCHAL DE TURENNE
PRINCE DE CONDE .
ANNE OF AUSTRIA .
CARDINAL MAZARIN
JAMES, DUKE OF YORK
PRINCE D'AREMBERG
LOUIS THE FOURTEENTH
OLIVER CROMWELL .
DUKE OF GLOUCESTER
PRINCESS OF ORANGE
ANNE HYDE, DUCHESS OF YORK
EARL OF CLARENDON
COUNTESS OF OSSORY
EARL OF ST. ALBANS
DUCHESS OF CLEVELAND

Frontispiece i
5
2753
60 6365 66 78
8287 S3 90
92 9699
101

vi LIST OF PORTRAITS
MISS BROOK (LADY WHITMORE)
CATHERINE OK BRAGANZA
QUEEN DOWAGER .
ST. EVREMOND
MRS. MIDDLETON .
MARY KIRK (MISS WARMESTRE)
MRS. HYDE
JACOB HALL .
COUNTESS OF SHREWSBURY
MISS HAMILTON
MISS PRICE .
DUCHESS OF NEWCASTLE
LORD WILLIAM RUSSELL .
MISS STEWART (DUCHESS OF RICHMOND)
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM .
EARL OF ARLINGTON
COUNTESS OF CHESTERFIELD

PAGE 102103105107"3 114
117 118121124
134137141145
146

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

OF

ANTHONY HAMILTON.

||J? Anthony Hamilton, the celebrated author of
the Grammont * Memoirs, much cannot now
be with certainty known. The accounts pre
fixed to the different editions of his works,
down to the year 1805, are very imperfect; in that year a
new, and, in general, far better edition than any of the pre
ceding ones, was published in Paris, to which a sketch of
his life was also added ; but it contains rather just criticisms
on his works, than any very novel or satisfactory anecdote
concerning himself. It is not pretended here to gratify
literary curiosity as fully as it ought to be, with regard to
this singular and very ingenious man; some effort, however,
may be made to communicate a few more particulars relative
to him, than the public has hitherto, perhaps, been acquainted
with. Anthony Hamilton was of the noble family of that name :
* For uniformity's sake the writer of this sketch has followed the
Memoirs in the spelling of this name ; but he thinks it necessary to
observe that it should be Gramont, not Grammont.

viii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF
Sir George Hamilton, his father, was a younger son of James,
Earl of Abercorn, a native of Scotland. His mother was
daughter of Lord Thurles, and sister to James, the first Duke
of Ormond ; his family and connections therefore, on the mater
nal side, were entirely Irish. He was, as well as his brothers
and sisters, born in Ireland, it is generally said, about the year
164G ; but there is some reason to imagine that it was three
or four years earlier. The place of his birth, according to the
best family accounts, was Iloserea, in the county of Tipperary,
the usual residence of his father when not engaged by military
or public business* It has been always said, that the family
migrated to France when Anthony was an infant ; but tliis is
not the fact : " Sir George Hamilton," says Carte, " would have
accompanied his brother-in-law, the Marquis of Ormond, to
France, in December, 1650: but, as he was receiver-general in
Ireland, he stayed to pass his accounts, which he did to the
satisfaction of all parties, notwithstanding much clamour had
been raised against him." When that business was settled,
he, in the spring of 1651, took Lady Hamilton and all his
family to France, and resided with Lord and Lady Ormond,
near Caen, in Xormandy,y in great poverty and distress, till
the Marchioness of Ormond, a lady whose mind was as exalted
as her birth, went over to England, and, after much solicita-

* In September, 1646, Owen O'Xeale took Jtoscrea, and. as Carte
says, " put man, woman, and child to the sword, except Sir George
Hamilton's lady, sister to the Marquis of Ormond, and some few
gentlewomen whom he kept prisoners." Xo family suffered more in
those disastrous times than the house of Ormond. Ladv Hamilton died
in August, ItiSO, as appears from an interesting and affecting letter of
her brother, the Duke of Ormond, dated Carriek, August £5th He
had lost his noble son, Lord Ossory, not three weeks before.
t Hence possibly Voltaire's mistake in stating that Hamilton was
born at Caen, in his Catalogue des Ecrivains elu Steele de Louis XIV.

ANTHONY HAMILTON. ix
tion, obtained two thousand pounds a-year from her own
and her husband's different estates in Ireland. TMs favour
was granted her by Cromwell, who always professed the great
est respect for her. The Marchioness resided in Ireland, with
the younger part of her family, from 1655 till after the Resto
ration ; while the Marquis of Ormond continued for a con
siderable part of that period with his two sisters, Lady Clan-
carty and Lady Hamilton, at the Feuillatines, in the Faubourg
St. Jacques, in Paris.
It appears from a letter of the Marquis to Sir Eobert South
well, that, although he himself was educated in the Protestant
religion, not only his father and mother, but all his brothers
and sisters, were bred, and always continued, Roman Catholics.
Sir George Hamilton also, according to Carte,* was a Roman
Catholic ; Anthony, therefore, was bred in the religion of his
family, and conscientiously adhered to it through life. He
entered early into the army of Louis XIV., as did his brothers
George, Richard, and John, the former of whom introduced the
company of English gens d'armes into France, in 1667, accord
ing to Le Pere Daniel, author of the History of the French
Army, who adds the following short account of its establish
ment : Charles II., being restored to his throne, brought over
to England several catholic officers and soldiers, who had
served abroad with him and his brother, the Duke of York,
and incorporated them with his guards ; but the parliament
having obliged him to dismiss all officers who were Catholics,
the king permitted George Hamilton to take such as were
willing to accompany him to France, where Louis XIV. formed
* That historian states that the king (Charles I.) deprived several
papists of their military commissions, and, among others, Sir George
Hamilton, who, notwithstanding, served him with loyalty and unvary
ing fidelity.

x BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF
them into a company of gens d'armes, and being higlily pleased
with them, became himself their captain, and made George
Hamilton their captain-lieutenant* Whether Anthony be
longed to this corps I know not ; but this is certain, that he
distinguished himself particularly in his profession, and was
advanced to considerable posts in the French service.f
Anthony Hamilton's residence was now almost constantly
in France. Some years previous to this he had been much in
England, and, towards the close of Charles II. 's reign, in Ire
land, where so many of his connections remained.}; When
James II. succeeded to the throne, the door being then opened
to the Roman Catholics, he entered into the Irish army, where
we find him, in 1686, a lieutenant-colonel in Sir Thomas New-
comen's regiment. That he did not immediately hold a higher
rank there, may perhaps be attributed to the recent accession
of the king, his general absence from Ireland, the advanced
age of his uncle, the Duke of Ormond, and, more than all, per
haps, to his Grace's early disapprobation of James's conduct
in Ireland, which displayed itself more fully afterwards, espe
cially in the ecclesiastical promotions.
Henry, Earl of Clarendon, son to the lord-chancellor, was
at that time lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and appears, notwith
standing his general distrust and dislike of the Catholics, to
have held Anthony Hamilton in much estimation : he speaks
of his knowledge of, and constant attention to, the duties of
* They were composed of English, Scotch, and Irish.
t It is not to be forgotten that, at this time, John Churchill, after
wards Duke of Marlborough, sowed under Marshal Tureune, in the
same army.
X Hamilton had throe sisters : the Countess of Grammont; another
married to Matthew Fordo, l-isq., of the county of 'Wexford; and
another to Sir lKmogh t >T>iien, ancestor to the present Sir Edward
U'lirici),— a brauch of the Thomond family.

ANTHONY HAMILTON. xi
his profession; his probity, and the dependance that was to be
placed on him, in preference to others of the same religious
persuasion, and, in October, 1686, wrote to the Earl of Sunder
land respecting him, as follows : " I have only this one thing
more to trouble your lordship with at present, concerning
Colonel Anthony Hamilton, to get him a commission to com
mand as colonel, though he is but lieutenant-colonel to Sir
Thomas Newcomen, in regard of the commands he has had
abroad : and I am told it is often done in France, which makes
me hope it will not be counted an unreasonable request. I
would likewise humbly recommend to make Colonel Anthony
Hamilton a privy-councillor here."* Lord Clarendon's recom
mendations were ultimately successful : Hamilton was made
a privy-councillor in Ireland, and had a pension of £200 a
year on the Irish establishment ; and was appointed governor
of Limerick, in the room of Sir William King, notwithstand
ing he had strongly opposed the new-modelling of the army
by the furious Tyrconnel. In the brief accounts which have
been given of his life, it is said that he had a regiment of in
fantry ; but, though this is very probable, there is no mention
whatever of his commanding a regiment in the lists published
of King James's army, which are supposed to be very accu
rate : he is indeed set down among the general officers. Lord
Clarendon, in one of his letters to the lord-treasurer, states,
" That the news of the day was, that Colonel Russell was to
be lieutenant- colonel to the Duke of Ormond's regiment, and
that Colonel Anthony Hamilton was to have Russell's regi
ment, and that Mr. Luttrell was to be lieutenant-colonel to
Sir Thomas Newcomen, in the place of Anthony Hamilton."y
It is not known whether Anthony was present at the battle
" Chapel-Izod, July 11, 1686.
+ Dublin Castle, October 23, 1686.

xii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF
of the Boyne, or of Aughrim : his brother John was killed at
the latter ; and Richard, who was a lieutenant-general, led on
the cavalry with uncommon gallantry and spirit at the Boyne :
it is to be wished that his candour and integrity had equalled
hi.s courage ; but he acted with great duplicity ; and King
William's contemptuous echoing back his word to him, when
he declared something on Ids honowr, is well known * He is
frequently mentioned by Lord Clarendon, but by no means
with the same approbation as his brother. After the total
overthrow of James's affairs in Ireland, the two brothers finally
quitted these kingdoms, and retired to France. Richard lived
much with the Cardinal de Bouillon, who was the great pro
tector of the Irish in France, and kept (what must have been
indeed highly consolatory to many an emigrant of condition)
a magnificent table, which has been recorded in the most glow
ing and grateful terms, by that gay companion, and celebrated
lover of good cheer, Philippe de Coulanges, who occasionally
mentions the " amiable Richard Hamilton "f as one of the car
dinal's particular intimates. Anthony, who was regarded par
ticularly as a man of letters and elegant talents, resided almost
entirely at St. Germain : solitary walks in the forest of that
place occupied his leisure hours in the morning ; and poetical
pursuits, or agreeable society, engaged the evening : but much
of his time seems to have rolled heavily along; his sister,
Madame de Grammont, living more at court, or in Paris, than
always suited his inclinations or his convenience. His great
resource at St. Germain was the family of the Duke of Ber
wick (son of James II.): that nobleman appears to have been
amiable in private life, and his attachment to Hamilton was
steady and sincere. The Duchess of Berwick was also his
» This anecdote has been erroneously xecorded of Anthony.
t So Coulanges calls him.

ANTHONY HAMILTON. xiii
friend. It is necessary to mention this lady particularly, as
well as her sisters : they were the daughters of Henry Bulkeley,
son to the first viscount of that name : their father had been
master of the household to Charles : their mother was Lady
Sophia Stewart, sister to the beautiful Duchess of Richmond,
so conspicuous in the Grammont Memoirs. The sisters of the
Duchess of Berwick were Charlotte, married to Lord Clare *
Henrietta, and Laura. They all occupy a considerable space
in Hamilton's correspondence, and the two last are the ladies
so often addressed as the Mademoiselles B. ; they are almost
the constant subjects of Hamilton's verses ; and it is recorded
that he was a particular admirer of Henrietta Bulkeley ; but
their union would have been that of hunger and thirst, for both
were very poor and very illustrious : their junction would, of
course, have militated against every rule of common prudence.
To the influence of this lady, particularly, we are indehted for
one or two of Hamilton's agreeable novels : she had taste
enough to laugh at the extravagant stories then so much in
fashion, " plus arabes qu'en Arabie,"f as Hamilton says ; and
he, in compliance with her taste, and his own, soon put the
fashionable tales to flight, by the publication of the Quatre
Facardins, and, more especially, La Fleur d'Epine. Some
of the introductory verses to these productions are written with
peculiar ease and grace ; and are highly extolled, and even
imitated, by Voltaire. La Harpe praises the Fleur d'Epine,
as the work of an original genius : I do not think, however,
that they are much relished in England, probably because very
ill translated. Another of his literary productions was the
* (O'Brien) ancestor to Marshal Thomond. Lord Clare was killed at
the battle of Ramillies.
t They were wretched imitations of some of the Persian and Arabian
tales, in which everything was distorted, and rendered absurd and pre
posterous.

xiv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF
novel called Le Belier, which he wrote on the following occa
sion : Louis XIV. had presented to the Countess of Grammont
(whom he highly esteemed) a remarkably elegant small country
house in the park of Versailles: this house became so fashion
able a resort, and brought such constant visitors* that the
Count de Grammont said, in his usual way, he would present
the king with a list of all the persons he was obliged to enter
tain there, as more suited to his Majesty's purse than his own:
the countess wished to change the name of the place from the
vulgar appellation of Le Moulineau into that of Pentalie : and
Hamilton, in his novel, wrote a history of a giant, an enchant
ment, and a princess, to commemorate her resolution. It has
however happened that the giant Moulineau has had the ad
vantage in the course of time ; for the estate, which is situated
near Meudon, upon the Seine, retains its original and popular
designation. About the year 1704, Hamilton turned his attention to col
lecting the memoirs of his brother-in-law, the Count de Gram
mont, as we may conjecture, from the epistle beginning
" Honneur des rives eloignees "j being written towards the
close of the above year : it is dated, or supposed to be so, from
the banks of the Garonne. Among other authors whom
Hamilton at first proposes to Grammont, as capable of writing
his life (though, on reflection, he thinks them not suited to it),
* Le bel air de la cour est d'aller k la jolie maison, que le roi a donnee
a. la Comtcsse de Gramont dans le Pare de Versailles. C'est tellement
la mode, que c'est une honte de n'y avoir pas ete. La Comtesse de
Gramont se porte tres-bien : il est certain que le roi la traite a mer-
veille. Paris, le 5 Aout, 1703."— Lettre de Madame de Coulanges d,
Madame de Crignan.
t A translation of this epistle, which is a complete sketch of the
Grammont Memoirs, is subjoined to this Biographical Sketch of the
Author.

ANTHONY HAMILTON. xv
is Boileau, whose genius he professes to admire ; but adds that
his muse has somewhat of malignity ; and that such a muse
might caress with one hand and satirize him with the other.
This letter was sent by Hamilton to Boileau, who answered
him with great politeness ; but, at the same time that he highly
extolled the epistle to Grammont, he, very naturally, seemed
anxious to efface any impression which such a representation
of his satiric vein might make on the Count's mind, and ac
cordingly added a few complimentary verses to him : this let
ter is dated, Paris, 8th February, 1705. About the same time,
another letter was written to Hamilton on the subject of the
Epistle to Grammont, by La Chapelle, who also seemed desi
rous that his life should be given to the public, but was much
perplexed which of the most celebrated ancients to compare
the count to. Mecffinas first presented himself to his imagi
nation : absurdly enough, in my opinion ; for there was not a
trace of similitude between the two characters. This, however,
afforded him some opportunity, as he thought, of discovering
a resemblance between Horace and Hamilton, in which he
equally failed. Petronius is then brought forward, as affording
some comparison to the Count ; — a man of pleasure, giving up
the day to sleep, and the night to entertainment ; but then,
adds La Chapelle, it will be suggested that, such is the per
petual activity of the Count of Grammont's mind, he may be
said to sleep neither night nor day ; and if Petronius died, the
Count seems determined never to die at all. (He was at this
time about eighty-five years of age.) It may well be supposed
that all this, though now perfectly vapid and uninteresting,
was extremely flattering to Grammont ; and the result was,
that he very much wished to have his life, or part of it, at
least, given to the public. Hamilton, who had been so long
connected with him, and with whose agreeable talents he was
VOL. i. b

xvi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF
now so familiarized, was, on every account, singled out by him
as the person who could best introduce him historically to the
public. It is ridiculous to mention Grammont as the author
of his own Memoirs : his excellence, as a man of wit, was en
tirely limited to conversation. Bussy Rahutin, who knew him
perfectly, states that he wrote almost worse than any one. If
this was said, and very truly, of him in his early days, it can
hardly be imagined that he would, when between eighty and
ninety years of age, commence a regular, and, in point of style,
most finished composition. Besides, independent of eveiything
else, what man would so outrage all decorum as to call him
self the admiration of the age ? for so is Grammont extolled
in the Memoirs, with a variety of other encomiastic expres
sions ; although, perhaps, such vanity has not been without
example. Hamilton, it is true, says that he acts as Grammont's
secretary, and only holds the pen, whilst the Count dictates to
him such particulars of his life as were the most singular, and
least known. This is said with great modesty, and, as to part
of the work, perhaps with great truth : it requires, however,
some explanation. Grammont was more than twenty years
older than Hamilton ; consequently, the earlier part of his hfe
could only have been known, or was best known, to the latter
from repeated conversations, and the long intimacy which sub
sisted between them. Whether Grammont formally dictated
the events of his younger days, or not, is of little consequence:
from his general character, it is probable that he did not. How
ever, the whole account of such adventures as he was engaged
in, from his leaving home to his interview with Cardinal Maza-
rin (excepting the character of Monsieur de Senantes, and
Matta, who was well known to Hamilton), the relation of the
siege of Lerida, the description of Gregorio Brice, and the in
imitable discovery of his own magnificent suit of clothes on

ANTHONY HAMILTON. xvii
the ridiculous bridegroom at Abbeville ; all such particulars
must have been again and again repeated to Hamilton by
Grammont, and may therefore be fairly grounded on the
count's authority. The characters of the court of Charles II.,
and its history, are to be ascribed to Hamilton : from his resi
dence, at various times, in the court of London, his connection
with the Ormond family, not to mention others, he must have
been well acquainted with them. Lady Chesterfield, who may
be regarded almost as the heroine of the work, was his cousin-
german* But, although the history altogether was written
by Hamilton, it may not perhaps be known to every reader
that Grammont himself sold the manuscript for fifteen hundred
livres ; and when it was brought to Fontenelle, then censor of
the press, he refused to license it, from respect to the character
of the Count, which, he thought, was represented as that of a
gambler, and an unprincipled one too. In fact, Grammont, like
many an old gentleman, seems to have recollected the gaieties
of his youth with more complaisance than was necessary, and
has drawn them in pretty strong colours in that part of the
work which is more particularly his own. He laughed at poor
Fontenelle's scruples, and complained to the chancellor, who
forced the censor to acquiesce : the license Was granted, and the
Count put the whole of the money, or the best part of it, in his
pocket, though he acknowledged the work to be Hamilton's.
This is exactly correspondent to his general character : when
money was his object, he had little, or rather no delicacy.
The History of Grammont may be considered as unique :
there is nothing like it in any language. For drollery,
knowledge of the world, various satire, general utility,
united with great vivacity of composition, Gil Bias is
* She was born at the castle of Kilkenny, July, 1640, as appears from
Carte's life of her father, the Duke of Ormond.

xviii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF
unrivalled: but, as a merely agreeable book, the Memoirs
of Grammont perhaps deserve that character more than any
which was ever written : it is pleasantry throughout, and
pleasantry of the best sort, unforced, graceful, and engaging.
Some French critic has justly observed, that, if any book
were to be selected as affording the truest specimen of perfect
French gaiety, the Memoirs of Grammont would be selected
in preference to all others. This has a Frenchman said of the
work of a foreigner : but that foreigner possessed much
genius, had lived from his youth, not only in the best society
of France, but with the most singular and agreeable man that
France could produce. Still, however, though Grammont
and Hamilton were of dispositions very different, the latter
must have possessed talents peculiarly brilliant, and admirably
adapted to coincide with, and display those of his brother-
in-law to the utmost advantage. Gibbon extols the " ease
and purity of Hamilton's inimitable style ;" and in this he
is supported by Voltaire, although he adds the censure, that
the Grammont Memoirs are, in point of materials, the most
trifling ; he might also in truth have said, the most improper.
The manners of the court of Charles II. were, to the utmost,
profligate and abandoned : yet in what colours have they
been drawn by Hamilton ? The elegance of his pencil has
rendered them more seductive and dangerous, than if it had
more faithfully copied the originals. From such a mingled
mass of grossness of language, and of conduct, one would
have turned away with disgust and abhorrence ; but Hamil
ton was, to use the words of his admirer, Lord Orford,
"superior to the indelicacy of the court," whose vices he
has so agreeably depicted ; and that superiority has sheltered
such vices from more than half the oblivion which would
now have for ever concealed them.

ANTHONY HAMILTON. xix
The Count de Grammont died in 1707. Some years after
the publication of his Memoirs, Hamilton was engaged in a
very different work : he translated Pope's Essay on Criticism
into French, and, as it should seem, so much to that great
poet's satisfaction, that he wrote a very polite letter of thanks
to him, which is inserted in Pope's Correspondence. Hamil
ton's Essay was, I believe, never printed, though Pope
warmly requested to have that permission : the reign of
Louis XIV. had now ceased; and, for several years before
his death, the character of the old court of that prince had
ceased also : profligacy and gaiety had given way to devotion
and austerity. Of Hamilton's friends and literary acquaint
ance few were left : the Duke of Berwick was employed in
the field, or at Versailles : some of the ladies, however, con
tinued at St. Germain; and in their society, particularly
that of his niece, the Countess of Stafford (in whose name
he carried on a lively correspondence with Lady Mary Wort-
ley Montague), he passed much of his time. He occasion
ally indulged in poetical compositions, of a style suited to
his age and character ; and when he was past seventy, he
wrote that excellent copy of verses, Swr I' Usage de la Vie
clans la Vieillesse ; which, for grace of style, justness, and
purity of sentiment, does honour to his memory.
Hamilton died at St. Germain, in April, 1720, aged about
seventy-four. His death was pious and resigned. From his
poem, entitled Reflections,* he appears, like some other authors,
* Voltaire, upon slight evidence, had imputed to him, at an earlier
period, sentiments of irreligion similar to his own :
Aupres d'eux le vif Hamilton,
Tou jours arme d'un trait qui blesse,
Medisait de l'humaine espece,
Et meme d'un peu mieux, dit-on.
But whether Voltaire had any better foundation for insinuating this

xx BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF
to have turned his mind, in old age, entirely to those objects
of sacred regard, which, sooner or later, must engage the atten
tion of every rational mind. To poetry he bids an eternal
adieu, in language which breathes no diminution of genius,
at the moment that he for ever recedes from the poetical
character. But he aspired to a better. The following lines
are interesting, for they evidently allude to his own situation ;
and may every one, who, from a well-directed, or mistaken,
but pure and generous zeal, is, through the course of a long
life, assailed by the temptations of poverty, find that con
solation in an innocence of manners, which Hamilton so weD
invoked, and, it is to be hoped, not altogether in vain :
" Fille du ciel, pure Innocence !
Asile contre tous nos maux,
Vrai centre du parfait repos !
Heureux celui, dont la Constance,
Vous conservant dans l'abondance,
Ne vous perd point, dans les travaux
D'une longue et triste indigence !"
Whatever were Hamilton's errors, his general character
was respectable. He has been represented as grave, and even
dull, in society ; the very reverse, in short, of what he appears
in his Memoirs: but this is probably exaggerated. Un
questionably, he had not the unequalled vivacity of the
Count de Grammont in conversation ; as Grammont was, on
the other hand, inferior, in all respects, to Hamilton when
the pen was in his hand ; the latter was, however, though
reserved in a large society, particularly agreeable in a more

charge than the libertine tone of Hamilton's earlier works, joined to his
own wish to hold up a man of genius as a partisan of his own opinions,
must remain doubtful ; while it is certain that Hamilton, in his latter
years, sincerely followed the Christian religion.

ANTHONY HAMILTON. xxi
select one. Some of his letters remain, in which he alludes
to his want of that facility at impromptu which gave such
brilliancy to the conversation of some of his brother wits
and contemporaries. But, while we admit the truth of this,
let it be remembered, at the same time, that when he wrote
this, he was by no means young ; that he criticised his own
defects with severity ; that he was poor, and living in a court
which itself subsisted on the alms of another. Amidst such
circumstances, extemporary gaiety cannot always be found.
I can suppose, that the Duchess of Maine, who laid claim to
the character of a patroness of wit, and, like many who
assert such claims, was very troublesome, very self-sufficient,
and very exigeante, might not always have found that general
superiority, or even transient lustre, which she expected in
Hamilton's society : yet, considering the great difference of
their age and situation, this circumstance will not greatly
impeach Ms talents for conversation. But the work of real
genius must for ever remain ; and of Hamilton's genius, the
Grammont Memoirs will always continue a beauteous and
graceful monument. To that monument may also be added,
the candour, integrity, and unassuming virtues of the
amiable author.

EPISTLE TO THE COUNT DE GRAMMONT,

BY ANTHONY HAMILTON,
IN HIS OWN AND HIS BROTHER'S NAME.*
Oh ! thou, the glory of the shore,
Where Corisanda f saw the day,
The blessed abode of Menodore ;
Thou, whom the fates have doom'd to stray
Far from that pleasant shore away,
On which the sun, at parting, smiles,
Ere, gliding o'er the Pyrenees,
Spain's tawny visages he sees,
And sinks behind the happy isles ;
Thou, who of mighty monarchs' court
So long hast shone unerring star,
Unmatch'd in earnest or in sport,
In love, in frolic, and in war !
To you, sir, this invocation must needs be addressed ; for
* It is dated from Grnmmont's villa of Someat, upon the banks of the
Garonne, whore it would seem Philibert and Anthony Hamilton were
then residing.
+ Oorisande and Menadaure were both ancestresses of the Count de
Grammont, and celebrated for beauty.

EPISTLE TO THE COUNT DE GRAMMONT. xxiii
whom else could it suit ? But you may be puzzled even to
guess who invokes you, since you have heard nothing of us
for an age, and since so long an absence may have utterly
banished us from your recollection. Yet we venture to flatter
ourselves it may be otherwise.
For who was e'er forgot by thee ?
Witness, at Lerida, Don Brice,*
And Barcelona's lady nice,
Donna Ragueza, fair and free ;
Witness too Boniface at Breda,
And Catalonia and Gasconne,
From Bordeaux walls to far Bayonne,
From Perpignan to Pueycreda,
And we your friends of fair Garonne.
Even in these distant and peaceful regions, we hear, by daily
report, that you are more agreeable, more unequalled, and more
marvellous than ever. Our country neighbours, great news
mongers, apprized by their correspondents of the lively sallies
with which you surprise the court, often ask us if you are not
the grandson of that famous Chevalier de Grammont, of whom
such wonders are recorded in the History of the Civil Wars ?
Indignant that your identity should be disputed in a country
where your name is so well known, we had formed a plan of
giving some faint sketch of your merits and history. But who
were we, that we should attempt the task ? With talents
naturally but indifferent, and now rusted by long interruption
of all intercourse with the court, how were it possible for us
to display taste and politeness, excelling all that is to be
* Don Brice is celebrated in the Memoirs, but Donna Eagueza does
not appear there.

xxiv EPISTLE TO THE
found elsewhere, and which yet must be attributes of those fit
to make you their theme ?
Can mediocrity avail,
To follow forth such high emprize ?
In vain our zeal to please you tries,
Where noblest talents well might fail :
Where loftiest bards might yield the pen,
And own 'twere rash to dare,
'Tis meet that country gentlemen
Be silent in despair.
We therefore limited our task to registering all the remark
able particulars of your life which our memory could supply,
in order to communicate those materials to the most skilful
writers of the metropolis. But the choice embarrassed us.
Sometimes we thought of addressing our Memoirs to the
Academy, persuaded that as you had formerly sustained a
logical thesis * you must know enough of the art to qualify
you for being received a member of that illustrious body, and
praised from head to foot upon the day of admission. Some
times, again, we thought, that, as, to all appearance, no one
will survive to pronounce your eulogium when you are no
more, it ought to be delivered in the way of anticipation by
the reverend Father Massillon or De La Rue. But we con
sidered that the first of these expedients did not suit yom
rank, and that, as to the second, it would be against all form
to swathe you up •while alive in the tropes of a funeral
sermon. The celebrated Boileau next occurred to us, and we
believed at first he was the very person we wanted ; but a
moment's reflection satisfied us that he would not answer our
purpose. * I presume, when he was educated for the church.

COUNT DE GRAMMONT. xxv
Sovereign of wit, he sits alone,
And joys him in his glory won ;
Or if, in history to live,
The first of monarchs' feats he give,
Attentive Phoebus guides his hand,
And Memory's daughters round him stand ;
He might consign, and only he,
Thy fame to immortality.
Yet, vixen still, his muse would mix
Her playful but malicious tricks,
Which friendship scarce might smother.
So gambols the ambiguous cat,
Deals with one paw a velvet pat,
And scratches you with t'other.
The next expedient which occurred to us was, to have your
portrait displayed at full length in that miscellany which lately
gave us such an excellent letter of the illustrious chief of your
house. Here is the direction we obtained for that purpose :
Not far from that superb abode
Where Paris bids her monarchs dwell.
Retiring from the Louvre's road,
The office opes its fruitful cell,
In choice of authors nothing nice,
To every work, of every price,
However rhymed, however writ,
Especially to folks of wit,
When by rare chance on such they hit.
From thence each month, in gallant quire,
Flit sonneteers in tuneful sallies,
All tender heroes of their allies,
By verse familiar who aspire

xxvi EPISTLE TO THE
To seize the honour'd name of poet.
Some scream, on mistuned pipes and whistles,
Pastorals and amorous epistles ;
Some, twining worthless wreath, bestow it
On bards and warriors of their own,
In camp and chronicle unknown.
Here, never rare, though ever new,
Riddle, in veil fantastic screening,
Presents, in his mysterious mask,
A useless, yet laborious task,
To loungers who have nought to do,
But puzzle out his senseless meaning.
'Tis here, too, that in transports old,
New elegies are monthly moaning ;
Here, too, the dead their lists unfold,
Telling of heirs and widows groaning ;
Telling what sums were left to glad them,
And here in copper-plate they shine,
Shewing their features, rank, and line,
And all their arms, and whence they had them.
We soon saw it would be impossible to crowd you, with
propriety, into so miscellaneous a miscellany: and these various
difficulties at length reconciled us to our original intention of
attempting the adventure ourselves, despite of our insufficiency
and of calling to our assistance two persons whom we have
not the honour to know, but some of whose compositions have
reached us. In order to propitiate them by some civihties,
one of us (he who wears at his ear that pearl, which, you used
to say, his mother had hung there out of devotion,) began to
invoke them, as you shall hear.
0 ! thou of whom the easy strain
Enchanted by its happy sway,

COUNT DE GRAMMONT. xxvii
Sometimes the margin of the Seine,
Sometimes the fair and fertile plain,
Where winds the Maine her lingering way ;
Whether the light and classic lay
Lie at the feet of fair Climene ;
Or if, La Fare, thou rather choose
The mood of the theatric muse,
And raise again, the stage to tread,
Renowned Greeks and Romans dead;
Attend ! — And thou, too, lend thine aid,
Chaulieu ! on whom, in raptur'd hour,
Phcebus hreath'd energy and power ;
Come both, and each a stanza place,
The structure that we raise to grace ;
To gild our heavy labours o'er,
Your aid and influence we implore.
The invocation was scarce fairly written out, when we
found the theatric muse a little misplaced, as neither of the
gentlemen invoked appeared to have written anything falling
under her department. This reflection embarrassed us ; and
we were meditating what turn should be given to the passage,
when behold ! there appeared at once, in the midst of the
room, a form that surprised without alarming us : — it was that
of your philosopher, the inimitable St. Evremond.* None of
the tumult which usually announces the arrival of ghosts of
consequence preceded this apparition.
* "With whom, as appears from the Memoirs, the Count, while residing
in London, maintained the closest intimacy. St. Evremond was de
lighted with his wit, vivacity, and latitude of principle : He called him
his hero ; wrote verses in his praise ; in short, took as warm an interest
in him as an Epicurean philosopher can do in any one but himself.

xxviii EPISTLE TO THE
The sky was clear and still o'erhead,
No earthquake shook the regions under,
No subterraneous murmur dread,
And not a single clap of thunder.
He was not clothed in rags, or tatter'd,
Like that same grim and grisly spectre,
Who, ere Philippi's contest clatter'd,
The dauntless Brutus came to hector :
Nor was he clad like ghost of Laius,
Who, when against his son he pled,
Nor worse nor better wardrobe had,
Than scanty mantle of Emaeus :
Nor did his limbs a shroud encumber,
Like that which vulgar sprites enfold,
When, gliding from their ghostly hold,
They haunt our couch, and scare our slumber.
By all this we saw the ghost's intention was not to frighten
us. He was dressed exactly as when we had first the pleasure
of his acquaintance in London. He had the same air of mirth
sharpened and chastened by satirical expression, and even the
same dress, which undoubtedly he had preserved for this visit,
Lest you doubt it —
His ancient studying-cap he wore,
Well tann'd, of good Morocco hide j*
The eternal double loop before,
That lasted till its master died :
In fine, the self-same equipage,
As when, with lovely Mazarin,
* One of St. Evreinond's peculiarities was, that, instead of a wig, the
universal dress of the time, he chose to wear his own grey hair, covered
with the leathern cap described in the text.

COUNT DE GRAMMONT. xxix
Still boasting of the name of Sage,
He drowned, in floods of generous wine,
The dulness and the frost of age,
And daily paid the homage due,
To charms that seem'd for ever new.
As he arrived unannounced, he placed himself between us
without ceremony, but could not forbear smiling at the respect
with which we withdrew our chairs, under pretence of not
crowding him. I had always heard that it was necessary to
question folks of the other world, in order to engage them in
conversation ; but he soon showed us the contrary ; for, casting
his eyes on the paper which we had left on the table, — " I
approve," said he, " of your plan, and I come to give you some
advice for the execution ; but I cannot comprehend the choice
you have made of these two gentlemen as assistants. I admit,
it is impossible to write more beautifully than they both do ;
but do you not see that they write nothing but by starts, and
that their subjects are as extraordinary as their caprice ?
Love-lorn and gouty, one soft swain
Rebels, amid his rhymes profane,
Against specific water-gruel;
Or chirrups, in his ill-tim'd lay,
The joys of freedom and tokay,
When Celimena's false or cruel :
The other, in his lovely strain,
Fresh from the font of Hippocrene,
Rich in the charms of sound and sense,
Throws all his eloquence away,
And vaunts, the live-long lingering day,
The languid bliss of indolence.
" Give up thoughts of them, if you please ; for though you

xxx EPISTLE TO THE
have invoked them, they won't come the sooner to your
succour : arrange, as well as you can, the materials you had
collected for others, and never mind the order of time or
events : I would advise you, on the contrary, to choose the
latter years of your hero for your principal subject: his
earlier adventures are too remote to be altogether so interest
ing in the present day. Make some short and light observa
tions on the resolution he has formed of never dying, and upon
the power he seems to possess of carrying it into execution*
That art by which his life he has warded,
And death so often has retarded,
'Tis strange to me,
The world's envy
Has ne'er with jaundiced eye regarded:
But, mid all anecdotes he tells
Of warriors, statesmen, and of belles,
With whom he fought, intrigued, and slept,
That rare and precious mystery,
His art of immortality,
Is the sole secret he has kept.
" Do not embarrass your brains in seeking ornaments, or
turns of eloquence, to paint his character : that would resemble
strained panegyric; and a faithful portrait will be his best praise.
Take care how you attempt to report Iris stories, or bons mots :
The subject is too great for you.f Try only, in relating his
* The Count de Graruniont, in his old age, recovered, contrary to
the expectation of his physicians, and of ail the world, from one or two
dangerous illnesses, which led him often to say, in his Lively manner,
that he had formed a resolution never to die. This declaration is the
subject of much raillery through the whole epistle.
t Bussi-Kabutin assures us, that much of the merit of Grammont's
bons mots consisted in his peculiar mode of delivering them, although his

COUNT DE GRAMMONT. xx.xi
adventures, to colour over his failings, and give relief to bis
merits. 'Twas thus, by easy route of yore,
My hero to the skies I bore*
reputation as a wit was universally established. Few of those which
have been preserved are susceptible of translation ; but the following
may be taken as a specimen :
One day when Charles II. dined in state, he made Grammont remark,
that he was served upon the knee ; a mark of respect not common at
other courts. " I thank your majesty for the explanation," answered
Grammont ; " I thought they were begging pardon for giving you so
bad a dinner." Louis XIV., playing at tric-trac, disputed a throwwith
his opponent. The bystanders were appealed to, and could not decide
the cause. It was referred to Grammont, who, from the farther end of
the gallery, declared against the king. " But you have not heard the
case," said Louis. "Ah, sire," replied the Count, " if your majesty had
bat a shadow of right, would these gentlemen have failed to decide in
your favour ?"
* St. Evremond, whose attachment to Grammont amounted to enthu
siasm, composed the following epitaph upon him, made, however, long
before the Count's death, in which he touches many of the topics which
he here is supposed to recommend to Hamilton.
Here lies the Count de Grammont, stranger !
Old Evremond's eternal theme :
He who shared Conde's every danger,
May envy from the bravest claim.
Wouldst know his art in courtly life ?
It match'd his courage in the strife.
Wouldst ask his merit with the fair ! —
Who ever liv'd his equal there 2
His wit to scandal never stooping
His mirth ne'er to buffoon'ry drooping :
Keeping his character's marked plan,
As spouse, sire, gallant, and old man.
But went he to confession duly ?
At matins, mass, and vespers steady ?
Fervent in prayer ? — to tell you truly,
He left these cares to my good lady.
VOL. I. c

xxxii EPISTLE TO THE
For your part, sketch how beauties tender,
Did to his vows in crowds surrender :
Show him forth-following the banners
Of one who match'd the goddess-born :
Show how in peace his active manners
Held dull repose in hate and scorn :
Show how at court he made a figure,
Taught lessons to the best intriguer,
Till, without fawning, like his neighbours,
His prompt address foil'd all their labours.
Canvas and colours change once more,
And paint him forth in various light :
The scourge of coxcomb and of bore ;
Live record of lampoons in score,
And chronicle of love and fight ;
Redoubted for his plots so rare,
By every happy swain and fair ;
Driver of rivals to despair ;
Sworn enemy to all long speeches ;
Lively and brilliant, frank and free ;
Author of many a repartee :
Remember, over all, that he
Was most renown'd for storming breaches.
Forget not the white charger's prance,
On which a daring boast sustaining,
He came before a prince of France,
Victorious in Alsace campaigning/

*£*

^"e may once more see a Turenne ;
Conde himself may have a double ;
But to make Grammont o'er again,
Would cost dame Nature too much trouble.
* Grammont had promised to the Dauphin, then commanding the
army in Alsace, that he would join him before the end of the campaign
in ounted on a white horse.

COUNT DE GRAMMONT.
Tell, too, by what enchanting art,
Or of the head, or of the heart,
If skill or courage gain'd his aim ;
When to Saint Albans' foul disgrace,
Despite his colleague's grave grimace,
And a fair nymph's seducing face,
He carried off gay Buckingham.*
Speak all these feats, and simply speak —
To soar too high were forward freak —
To keep Parnassus' skirts discreetest ;
For 'tis not on the very peak,
That middling voices sound the sweetest.
Each tale in easy language dress,
With natural expression closing ;
Let every rhyme fall in express ;
Avoid poetical excess,
And shun low miserable prosing :
Doat not on modish style, I pray,
Nor yet condemn it, with rude passion ;
There is a place near the Marais,
Where mimicry of antique lay
Seems to be creeping into fashion.
This new and much-admired way,
Of using Gothic words and spelling,
Costs but the price of Rabelais,
Or Ronsard's sonnets, to excel in.

* Grammont is supposed to have had no small share in determining
the Duke of Buckingham, then Charles the Second's favourite minister,
to break the triple alliance ; for which purpose he went to France with
the Count, in spite of all that the other English ministers, and even
his mistress, the celebrated Countess of Shrewsbury, could do to prevent
him.

xxxiv EPISTLE TO THE
With half a dozen ekes and ayes,
Or some such antiquated phrase,
At small expense you'll lightly hit
On this new strain of ancient wit.
We assured the spirit we would try to profit by this last
advice, but that his caution against falling into the languor of
a prosing narration appeared to us more difficult to follow.
" Once for all," said he, " do your best ; folks that write for the
Count de Grammont have a right to reckon on some indulgence.
At any rate, you are only known through him, and, apparently,
what you are about will not increase the public curiosity on
your own account. I must end my visit," he continued, "and
by my parting wishes convince my hero that I continue to in
terest myself in his behalf."
Still may his wit's unceasing charms
Blaze forth, his numerous days adorning ;
May he renounce the din of arms,
And sleep some longer of a morning :
Still be it upon false alarms,
That chaplains come to lecture o'er him ; *
Still prematurely, as before,
That all the doctors give him o'er,
And king and court are weeping for him.
May such repeated feats convince
The king he lives but to attend him ;
And may he, like a grateful prince,
Avail him of the hint they lend him :
* Do Grammont having falling seriously ill, at the age of seventy-
five, the king, who knew his free sentiments in religious matters, sent
Dangeau to give him ghostly advice. The Count, finding his errand,
turned to his wife, and cried out, " Countess, if you don't look to it,
Dangeau will cheat you of my conversion."

COUNT DE GRAMMONT. xxxv
Live long as Grammont's age, and longer,
Then learn his art still to grow younger.

Here ceas'd the ghostly Norman sage,
A clerk whom we as well as you rate
The choicest spirit of his age,
And heretofore your only curate :
Though not a wight, you see, his spectre
Doth, like a buried parson's, lecture.
Then off he glided to the band
Of feal friends that hope to greet you,
But long may on the margin stand,
Of sable Styx, before they meet you
No need upon that theme to dwell,
Since none but you the cause can tell ;
Yet, if, when some half century more,
In health and glee, has glided o'er,
You find you, maugre all your strength,
Stretch' d out in woeful state at length,
And forc'd to Erebus to troop,
There shall you find the joyous group,
Carousing on the Stygian border !
Waiting, with hollo and with whoop,
To dub you brother of their order :
There shall you find Dan Benserade,
Doughty Chapelle and Sarazine,
Voiture and Chaplain, gallants fine,
And he who ballad never made,
Nor rhymed without a flask of wine.
Adieu, sir Count, the world around
Who roam'd in quest of love and battle,
Of whose high merits fame did tattle,
As sturdy filter, knight renown'd.

xxxvi EPISTLE TO THE COUNT DE GRAMMONT.
Before the warfare of the Fronde,
Should you again review Gironde,
Travelling in coach, by journeys slow,
You'll right hand mark a sweet chateau,
Which has few ornaments to show,
But deep, clear streams, that moat the spot,
'Tis there we dwell, — forget us not !
Think of us then, pray, sir, if, by chance, you should take
a fancy to revisit your fair mansion of Semeat. In the mean
while, permit us to finish this long letter ; we have endeavoured
in vain to make something of it, by varying our language and
style — you see how our best efforts fall below our subject. To
succeed, it would be necessary that he whom our fictions con
jured up to our assistance were actually among the living.
But, alas !
No more shall EvTemond incite us,
That chronicler whom none surpasses,
Whether his grave or gay delight us ;
That favourite of divine Parnassus
Can find no ford in dark Cocytus :
From that sad rivers's fatal bourne,
Alone De Grammont can return.

.PilTO.'lBKKT ('"MTE T>X. GT;A5I?]05T.

MEMOIRS

OF

COUNT GRAMMONT.

CHAPTER I.
S those who read only for amusement 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 further declare, that the order of time and disposition of the
facts, which give more trouble to the writer than pleasure to
the reader, shall not much embarrass me in these Memoirs. It
being my design to convey a just idea of my hero, those cir
cumstances which most tend to illustrate and distinguish his
character shall find a place in these fragments just as they
present themselves to my imagination, without paying any
particular attention to their arrangement. For, after all, what
does it signify where the portrait is begun, provided the as
semblage 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 di-
YOL. I. A

2 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
gressions into antiquity, or agreeable passages of literature,
which frequently have no reference to the subject; forinstanoe,
he tells us that Demetrius Poliorcetes was far from being so
tall as his father, Antigonus ; and afterwards, that his reputed
father, Antigonus, was only his uncle ; but this is not until he
has begun his life with a short account of his death, his various
exploits, his good and bad qualities ; and at last, out of com
passion to his failings, brings forward a comparison between
him and the unfortunate Mark Antony.
In the Life of Numa Pompilius, he begins by a dissertation
upon his preceptor 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 victo
rious 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 said upon this subject is not meant to reflect
upon this historian, to whom, of all the ancients, we are most
obliged ; 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 inimitable character casts a veil over those faults which
I shall neither palliate nor disguise ; a man distinguished by
a mixture of virtues and vices so closely linked together as in
appearance 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, in
gaming, and in the various stages of a long life, has rendered
the Count de Grammont the admiration of his ao-e and the
delight of every country wherein he has displayed his engaging

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 3
wit, dispensed his generosity and magnificence, or practised
his inconstancy: it is owing to this that the sallies of a
sprightly imagination have produced those admirable bons-
rnots which have been with universal applause transmitted to
posterity. It is owing to this that he preserved his judgment
free and unembarrassed in the most trying situations, and en
joyed an uncommon presence of mind and facetiousness of
temper in the most imminent dangers of war. I shall not at
tempt to draw his portrait : his person has been described by
Bussi and St. Evremond* authors more entertaining than faith
ful. The former has represented the Chevalier Grammont as
artful, fickle, and even somewhat treacherous in his amours,
and indefatigable and cruel in his jealousies. St. Evremond
has used other colours to express the genius and describe the
general manners of the Count ; whilst both, in their different
* Voltaire, in the age of Louis 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 severely punished for
the use he made of his : he was sent to the Bastile in 1664. The
Amours of the Gauls 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 remem
brance to ruin Bussi, the reputed author of it.
Que Deodatus est heureux,
De baiser ce bee amoureux,
Qui d'une oreille a l'autre va !
See Deodatus with his billing dear,
Whose amorous mouth breathes love from ear to ear !
" His works were not good enough to compensate 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 Louis XIV." Bussi died 1693. Of St.
Evremond, see note, postea.

4 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
pictures, have done greater honour to themselves than justice
to their hero.
It is, therefore, to the Count we must listen, in the agreeable
relation of the sieges and battles wherein he distinguished
himself under another hero ; and it is on him we must rely
for the truth 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 practised either in love or
gaming. These express his true character, and to himself we
owe these memoirs, since I only hold the pen, while he directs
it to the most remarkable and secret passages of his life.

•(' A.I'iTrp iLF" A1!, lil. i'IITjXIEF

CHAPTER II.

N those days affairs were not managed in France
as at present. Louis XIIL* then sat upon
the throne, but the Cardinal de Richelieu +
governed the kingdom; great men commanded
little armies, and little armies did great things ; the fortune
of great men depended solely upon ministerial favour, and
* Son and successor of Henry IV. He began to reign 14th May,
1610, and died 14th May, 1643.
t Of this great minister Mr. Hume gives the following character :—
" This man had no sooner, by suppleness and intrigue, gotten possession
of the reins of government, than he formed at once three mighty pro
jects ;— to subdue the turbulent spirits of the great ; to reduce the
rebellious Huguenots ; and to curb the encroaching power of the house
of Austria. Undaunted and implacable, prudent and active, he braved
all the opposition of the French princes and nobles in the prosecution
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, acquired,
by means of his administration, learning, order, discipline, and renown.
That confused 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." (History of England, vol. iv., p. 232.) Car
dinal Richelieu died 1642.

6 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
blind devotion to the will of the minister was the only sure
method of advancement. Vast designs were then laying in
the heart of neighbouring states the foundation of that for
midable greatness to which France has now risen : the pohce
was somewhat neglected ; the highways were impassable by
day, and the streets by night ; but robberies were committed
elsewhere with greater impunity. Young men, on their first
entrance into the world, took what course they thought proper.
Whoever would, was a chevalier, and whoever could, an abbe:
I mean a beneficed abbe' : dress made no distinction between
them ; and I believe the Chevalier Grammont was both the
one and the other at the siege of Trino.*
This was his first campaign, and here he displayed those
attractive graces which so favourably prepossess, and require
neither friends nor recommendations in any company to pro
cure a favourable reception. 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 therefore to reconnoitre the generals, having no oc
casion to reconnoitre the place. Prince Thomasf commanded
the army; and as the post of lieutenant-general was not
then known, Du Plessis Pralin j and the famous Viscount
* Trino was taken 4th May, 1639.
t Of Savoy, uncle of the reigning duke. He died 1656.
% Afterwards Marechal and Duke de ChoiseuL He retired from the
army in 1672. Monsieur Henault, in his History of France, under that
year, says, " Le Marechal du Plessis ne fit pas cette campague a cause
de son grand age ; il dit au roi, qu'il portoit envie k ses enfans, qui
avoient l'honneur de servir sa majeste, que pour lui il souhaitoit la mort,
puisqu'il n'etoit plus bon a rien : le roi l'embrassa, et lui dit : ' M. le
Marechal, on ne travaille que pour approcher de la reputation que
vous avez acquise : il est agrdable de se reposer apres tants de vie-
toires.'"

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 7
Turenne* were his majors general. 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 hundreds of
pieces of cannon. Before these furious storms which drive
governors under ground and reduce their garrisons to powder,
repeated sallies bravely repulsed, and vigorous attacks nobly
*This great general was killed July 27, 1675, by a cannon-shot, near
the village of Salzbach, in going to choose a place whereon to erect a
battery. — " No one," says Voltaire, "is ignorant of the circumstances of
his death ; but we cannot here refrain from a review of the principal of
them, for the same reason that they are still talked of every day. It
seems as if one 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 misfortune 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 are 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 Louvois 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 Guesciin, above whom he was eleva
ted by the voice of the public, as much as the age of Turenne was
superior to the age of the constable."
In former editions, the quotation from Voltaire was yet longer. It is
more germane to the present matter to observe, that it appears, from the
Memoirs of St. Hilaire, where Voltaire found his anecdote, that Count
Hamilton was present at the death of Turenne. Monsieur de Boze had
twice sent to Turenne, to beg him to come to the place where the battery
was to be erected, which Turenne, as if by presentiment, declined.
Count Hamilton brought the third anxious request from De Boze ; and
in riding to the place where he was, Turenne received his death-blow.
The horse of Montecuculi, the opposite general, was, in the course of
the same day, killed by a cannon-shot.

S MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
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
knowledge. Many brave actions were performed on each
side during the siege of Trino ; a great deal of fatigue was en
dured, and considerable losses sustained ; but fatigue was no
more considered, 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 Gram
mont. Pleasure 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
shining qualities, but without success; the former admired
his talents and courted his friendship. Of this number was
Matta :* He was agreeable in his person, but still more by
*Matta, or Matha, of whom Hamilton has drawn so striking a picture,
is said to have been of the house of Bourdeille, which had the honour
to produce Brantome and Montresor. The combination of indolence
and talent, of wit and simplicity, of bluntness and irony, with which he
is represented, may have been derived from tradition, but could only
have been united into the inimitable whole by the pen of Hamilton.
Several of his bons-mots have been preserved; but the spirit evaporates
in translation. " Where could I get this nose," said Madame D'Albret,
observing a slight tendency to a flush in that feature. " At the side
board, Madame," answered Matta. When the same lady, in despair at
her brother's death, refused all nourishment, Matta administered this
blunt consolation : " If you are resolved, madame, never again to
swallow food, you do well ; but if ever you mean to eat upon any
future occasion, believe me, 3'ou may as well begin just now. " Madame
Caylus, in lier Souvenirs, commemorates the simple and natural humour
of Matta as rendering him the most delightful society in the world.
Mademoiselle, in her Memoirs, alludes to his pleasantoy in conversation,
and turn for deep gaming. When the Memoirs of Grammont were
subjected to the examination of Fontenelle, then censor of the Parisian

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. g
the natural turn of his wit ; he was plain and simple in his
manners, but endued with a quick discernment and refined
delicacy, and full of candour and integrity in all his actions.
The Chevalier Grammont was not long in discovering his
amiable 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 condition
of equally contributing to the expense. As they were both
liberal and magnificent, at their common cost they gave the
best designed and most luxurious entertainments that had
ever yet been seen. Play was wonderfully productive at
first, and the Chevalier restored by a hundred different ways
that which he obtained only by one. The generals, being en
tertained by turns, admired their magnificence, and were dis
satisfied with their own officers for not keeping such good
tables and attendance. The Chevalier had the talent of
setting off the most indifferent things to advantage ; and his
wit was so generally acknowledged, that it was a kind of dis
grace not to submit to his taste. To him Matta resigned the
care of furnishing the table and doing its honours ; and,
charmed with the general applause, persuaded himself that
nothing could be more honourable than their way of living,
press, he refused to license them, on account of the scandalous conduct
imputed to Grammont in this party at quinze. The count no sooner
heard of this than he hastened to Fontenelle, and having joked him for
being more tender of his reputation than he was himself, the license was
instantly issued. The censor might have retorted upon Grammont the
answer which the count made to a widow who received coldly bis
compliments of condolence on her husband's death : " Nay, madame,
if that is the way you take it, I care as little about it as you do." He
died in 1674. " Matta est mort sans confession," says Madame Main-
tenon, in a letter to her brother. Tome I., p. 67.

io MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
and nothing more easy than to continue it ; but he soon per
ceived that the greatest prosperity is not the most lasting.
Good living, bad economy, dishonest servants, and ill-luck,
all uniting together to disconcert their housekeeping, their
table was going to be gradually laid aside, when the Cheva
lier's genius, fertile in resources, undertook to support his
former credit by the following expedient.
They had never yet conferred about the state of their
finances, although the steward had acquainted each, separately,
that he must either receive money to continue the expenses,
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 bis rest, he began
musing on his project. Matta awoke without his perceiving
it ; and having, for a short time, observed the deep contem
plation he seemed involved in, and the profound silence be
tween two persons who had never held their tongues for a
moment when together before, he broke it by a sudden fit of
laughter, which increased in proportion as the other stared at
him. " A merry way of waking, and ludicrous enough," said
the Chevalier ; " what is the matter, and whom do you laugh
at V " Faith, Chevalier," said Matta, " I am laughing at a
dream I had just now, which is so natural and diverting, that
I must make you laugh at it also. I was dreaming that we
had dismissed our maitre-d'hotel, our cook, and our confec
tioner, 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 Chevalier, 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'hotel has been telling you as well as me. What1

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. n
after the figure we have made in the face of the nobility and
foreigners in the army, shall we give it up, and 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 1" 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 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 occasion. What would have become of you
if you had been reduced to the situation I was in at Lyons,
four days before I arrived here ? I will tell you the story."

CHAPTER III.

^^'31 HIS." 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 narrative.
" You must know, then, that upon my arrival at Lyons — "
" Is it thus you begin ? " said Matta. " Pray give us your
history a little further 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
Richelieu : I have often laughed at it However, you may
pass over the unlucky pranks of your infancy, your genealogy,
name and quality of your ancestors, for that is a subject with
which you must be utterly unacquainted."
" Pooh ! " said the Chevalier ; " you think that all the world
is as ignorant 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 traitor would never consent to it. See

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 13
what the Grammonts would have been now, but for this cross-
grained fellow ! They would have had precedence of the
Cassars de Vendome* You may laugh if you like, yet it is
as true as the gospel : but let us come to the point.
" I was sent to the college of Pau,f with the intention of
being brought up to the church ; but as I had quite different
views, I made no manner of improvement : gaming was so
much in my head, that both my tutor and the master lost
their labour in endeavouring to teach me Latin. Old Brinon,
who served me both as valet-de-chambre and governor, in vain
threatened to acquaint my mother. I only studied when I
pleased, that is to say, seldom or never : however, they treated
me as is customary with scholars of my quality ; I was raised
to all the dignities of the forms, without having merited them,
and left college nearly in the same state in which I entered
it ; nevertheless, I was thought to have more knowledge than
was requisite for the abbacy 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 present me to him. I
felt but little regret to quit 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.
I so thoroughly gained them, that I could not be persuaded
to lay them aside when I was introduced at court in the cha
racter of an Abbe. You know what kind of dress was then the
* Caesar, Duke de Vendome, was the eldest son of Henry IV., by the
celebrated Gabrielle d'Estrees. He died in 1665.
t Pau was the capital of the principality of Bearne, and lies on an
eminence on the Gave Bearnois, being indeed small and well built, and
formerly 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 five
convents and two hospitals.

14 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
fashion. All that they could obtain of me was to put a, cas
sock over my other clothes, and my brother, ready to die with
laughing at my ecclesiastical habit, made others laugh too. I
had the finest head of hair in the world, well curled and pow
dered, above my cassock, and below were white buskins and
gilt spurs. The Cardinal, who had a quick discernment, could
not help laughing. This elevation of sentiment gave him um
brage ; 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 httle
parson,' said he, ' you have acted your part to admiration, and
your parti-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, by sticking
to the church, you will possess great revenues, and have
nothing to do ; or, with a small portion, you will risk the loss
of a leg or arm, and be the fructus belli of an insensible court,
to arrive in 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, I am re
solved 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 soon learned
all that is taught at such places, and, at the same time, I also
learnt that which gives the finishing stroke to a young fellow's
education, and makes him a gentleman, viz. all sorts of games,
both at cards and dice ; but the truth is, I thought, at first,

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. iS
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 inconsolable ; for she reckoned, that had I been a clergy
man 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. And 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 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 became
her favourite, and finding me inflexible, she only thought of
keeping me with her as long as she could, while my little
equipage was preparing. The faithful Brinon, who was to
attend me as valet-de-chambre, 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 behaviour and morality, and
promised my mother that he would give a good account of my
person in the dangers of the war ; but I hope he will keep his
word better as to this last article than he has done as to the
former. " My equipage was sent away a 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 neigh
bour as myself, she suffered me to depart, under the protection
of the Lord and the sage Brinon. At the second stage we
quarrelled. He had received four hundred louis d'or for the
expenses of the campaign : I wished to have the keeping of
* A principality belonging to the family of the Grammonts, in the
province of Gascony.

1 6 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
them myself, which he strenuously opposed. 'Thou old scoun
drel,' said I, ' is the money thine, or was it given thee for me ?
You suppose I must have a treasurer, and receive no money
without his order. I know not whether it was from a pre
sentiment of what afterwards happened that he grew melan
choly ; however, it was with the greatest reluctance, and the
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 trust ; he, on the contrary, appeared so overwhelmed
with grief, that it seemed as if I had laid four hundred pounds
of lead upon his back, instead of taking away these four hun
dred louis. He went on so heavily, 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 reflec
tions and sorrows were renewed at every stage; for, instead
of giving a shilling to the post-boy, I gave him half-a-
crown. " Having at last reached Lyons, 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 delivered 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 accommodations,
and the greatest resort of good company, in the whole town.
The master of this hotel was as big as a hogshead, his name
Cerise ; a Swiss by birth, a poisoner by profession, and a thief
by custom. He showed me into a tolerably neat room, and
desired to know whether I pleased to sup by myself or at the
ordinary. I chose the latter, on account of the beau monde
which the soldier had boasted of.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT: 17
" Brinon, who was quite out of temper at the many questions
which the governor had asked him, returned more surly than
an old ape ; and seeing that I was dressing my hair, in order to
go downstairs : ' 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 betimes, that you may get on
horseback by day-break.' ' Mr. Comptroller,' said I, ' I shall
neither tramp about the town, nor eat alone, nor go to bed
early. I intend to sup with the company below.' ' At the
ordinary !' cried he ; ' I beseech you, sir, do not think of it !
Devil take me, if there be not a dozen brawling fellows play
ing 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 a 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 post-horses ready before daybreak.' The mo
ment he mentioned cards and dice, I felt the money burn in
my pocket. I was somewhat surprised, however, to find the
room where the ordinary was served filled with odd-looking
creatures. My host, after presenting me to the company, as
sured me that there were but eighteen or twenty of those
gentlemen who would have the honour to sup with me. I ap
proached 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
loobies play hke them ; but their figures beggared all descrip
tion. The fellow near whom I stood was short, thick, and
fat, and as round as a ball, with a ruff, and prodigious high-
vol. 1. B

1 8 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
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 inquired 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 deep ?' said I.
' Not now,' said he ; ' they are only playing for their reckon
ing, 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,' replied 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 further
encouragement to meditate the ruin of the high-crowned hat.
I went nearer to him, in order to take a closer survey ; never
was such a bungler ; he made blots upon blots ; God knows,
I began to feel some remorse at winning of such an ignora
mus, who knew so little of the game. He lost his reckoning;
supper was served up ; and I desired him to sit next me. It
was a long table, and there were at least five-and-twenty in
company, notwithstanding the landlord's promise. The most
execrable repast that ever was begun being finished, all 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 dragoons ; and the
Swiss was continually saying, in bad French, ' I ask your par
don, sir, for my great freedom,' at the same time blowing such
whiffs of tobacco in my face as almost suffocated me. Mr.
Cerise, on the other hand, desired he might 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 in Switzerland.
" The little chub I had to encounter was full as inquisitive as

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 19
the 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 companion if he would play for a single
pistole at backgammon, while our men were supping ; it was
not without great ceremony that he consented, at the same
time asking my pardon for his great freedom.
" I won the game ; 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 himself
to be taken in so that I began to bless my stars for my good
fortune. Brinon came in about the end of the third game, to
put me to bed, he made a great sign of the cross, but paid no
attention to the signs I made him to retire. I was forced to
rise to give him that order in private. He began to reprimand
me for disgracing myself by keeping company with such 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, old fool,' said I; 'he is
no more a conjurer than you are, and that is decisive ; and, to
prove it to you, I am resolved to win four or five hundred
pistoles of him before I go to bed. With these words I turned
him out, strictly enjoining him not to return, or in any man
ner to disturb us.
" The game being done, the 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

20 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
as if he wished to retire. This was not what I wanted. I
told him we only played for amusement ; that I had no design
upon his money ; and that, if he pleased, I would play him a
single game for his four pistoles. He raised some objections ;
but consented at last, and won back his money. I was piqued
at it. I played another game ; fortune changed sides ; the
dice ran for him, he made no more blots. I lost the game ;
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 games.
I asked him to play a single game 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 re
fusal, and the politeness with which he took his leave, pro
voked 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
miserable situation to which I was reduced.
" I durst not go up to my chamber for fear of Brinon. By
good luck, however, he was tired with waiting for me, and had
gone to bed. This was some consolation, though but of short
continuance. As soon as I was laid down, all the fatal con
sequences of my adventure presented themselves to my imagi
nation. I could not sleep. I saw all the horrors of my mis
fortune, without being able to find any remedy ; in vain did I
rack my brain ; it supplied me with no expedient. I feared
nothing so much as daybreak ; however, it 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,
Monsieur le Chevalier,' cried he, opening the curtains ; ' the

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 21
hoTses are at the door, and you are still asleep. We ought by
this time to have ridden two stages; give me money to pay the
reckoning.' ' Brinon,' said I, in a dejected tone, ' draw the
curtains/ ' What !' cried he, ' draw the curtains ! Do you
intend, then, to make your campaign at Lyons ? you seem to
have taken a liking to the place. And for the great merchant,
you have stripped him, I suppose ? No, no, Monsieur le Che
valier, 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 V ' M. Brinon,' said I, ' pray
draw the curtains.' But instead of obeying me, one would have
thought that the devil had prompted him to use the most
pointed and galling terms to a person under such misfortunes.
' And how much have you won ?' said he ; ' five hundred pis
toles ? what must the poor man do ? Recollect, Monsieur le
Chevalier, what I have said, this money will never thrive with
you. It is, perhaps, but four hundred ? three ? two ? well if it
be but one hundred louis d'or, continued he, seeing that I
shook my head at every sum which he had named, there is no
great mischief done ; one hundred pistoles will not ruin him,
provided you have won them fairly.' ' Friend Brinon,' said I,
fetching a deep sigh, * draw the curtains ; I am unworthy to
see daylight.' Brinon was much affected at these melancholy
words, but I thought he would have fainted, when I told him
the whole adventure. He tore his hair, made grievous lamen
tations, 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 V said he, ' what
do you intend to do ?' ' Nothing,' said I, ' for I am fit for no
thing. After this, being somewhat eased after making him my

22 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
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 rack for a long time, he at last extricated me.
Parents are always stingy towards their poor children; my
mother intended to have given me five hundred louis d'or, 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, I have had,
at one time, after paying all my expenses, fifteen hundred
louis d'or. Fortune is now again become unfavourable : we
must mend her. Our cash runs low ; we must, therefore, en
deavour to recruit."
" Nothing is more easy," said Matta ; " it is only to find out
such another dupe as the horse-dealer at Lyons ; but now I
think on it, has not the faithful Brinon some reserve for the
last extremity ? Faith, the time is now come, and we cannot
do better than to make use of it."
" Your raillery would be veiy seasonable," said the Chevalier,
" if you knew how to extricate us out of this difficulty. You
must certainly have an overflow of wit, to be throwing it away
upon every occasion as at present. What the devil ! will you
always be bantering, without considering what a serious situ
ation we are reduced to. Mind what I say, I will go to
morrow to the head-quarters, I will dine with the Count de

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 23
Cameran, and I will invite him to supper." " Where ?" said
Matta. " Here," said the Chevaher. " 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 circumstances, 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-d'h6tel to me, and trouble your
self no further, except in some precautions, which it is neces
sary to take on such an occasion." " What are they ?" said
Matta. " I will tell you," said the Chevalier ; "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 sergeant 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 forgive me, I believe you intend to rob the
poor Savoyard. If that be your intention, I declare I will have
nothing to say to it." " Poor devil !" 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 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 might be ? for he is commonly attended
by eight or ten horsemen. Therefore, however he may be

24 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
provoked 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 not to be matched.
What a fool I was to think, when you talked to me of taking
precautions, that nothing more was necessary than to prepare
a table and cards, or perhaps to provide some false dice ! I
should never have thought of supporting a man who plays at
quinze by a detachment of foot : I must, indeed, confess that
you are already a great soldier."
The next day everything happened as the Chevaher Gram
mont 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 Chevalier de Gram
mont shone as usual, and almost made his guest die with
laughing, whom he was soon after to make very serious ; and
the good-natured Cameran ate like a man whose affections
were divided between good cheer and a 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 done, the sergeant La Place posted his ambus
cade, 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 remorse, and conquer some scruples which arose in
his mind. Matta, unwilling to be a spectator of violated hos
pitality, sat down in an easy chair, in order to fall asleep,
while the Chevalier was stripping the poor Count of his
money. They only staked three or four pistoles at first, just for
amusement ; but Cameran having lost three or four times, he

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 25
staked high, and the game became serious. He still lost, and
became outrageous ; the cards flew about the room, and the
exclamations awoke Matta.
As his head was heavy with sleep, and hot with wine, he
began to laugh at the passion of the Piedmontese, instead of
consoling him. " Faith, my poor Count," said he, " if I were in
your place, I would play no more." " Why so ?" said the other.
" I don't know," said he, " but my heart tells me that your ill-
luck will continue." " I will try that," said Cameran, calling for
fresh cards. " Do so," said Matta, and fell asleep again. It was
but for a short time. All cards were equally unfortunate 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 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 Grammont was provoked at so ill-timed a
jest, more especially 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 pestered with your insipid jests ? For my part, I am so
weary of the game, that I would desist immediately, if he was
not so great a loser." Nothing is more dreaded by a losing
gamester, than such a threat ; and the Count, in a softened
tone, told the Chevalier that Mr. Matta might say what he
pleased, if he did not offend him ; that, as to himself, it did
not give him the smallest uneasiness.
The Chevalier de Grammont gave the Count far better

26 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
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 se
verely reprimanded for the intemperance 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 en
gaged with his horse, if he had been inclined to mischief.
This adventure having recruited their finances, fortune
favoured them the remainder of the campaign, and the Che
valier de Grammont, to prove that he had only seized upon
the Count's effects by way of reprisal, and to indemnify him
self for the losses he had sustained at Lyons, began from this
time to make the same use of his money, that he has been
known to do since upon all occasions. He found out the dis
tressed, 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 one felt the
influence of his benevolence : but his manner of conferring a
favour exceeded even the favour itself.
Every man possessed of such amiable qualities must meet
with success in all his undertakings. The soldiers knew his
person, and adored him. The generals were sure to meet him
in every scene of action, and sought his company at other
times. As soon as fortune declared for him, his first care was
to make restitution, by desiring Cameran to go his halves in
all parties where the odds were in his favour.
An inexhaustible fund of vivacity and good humour gave
a certain air of novelty to whatever he either said or did. I
know not on what occasion it was that Monsieur de Turenne,

1X1 AT.K "R X >r II A l, "D 'W, T 1'El 3" 75 it'.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. ,27
towards the end of the siege, commanded a separate body.
The Chevalier de Grammont went to visit him at his new
quarters, where he found fifteen or twenty officers. M. de
Turenne was naturally fond of merriment, and the Chevalier's
presence was sure to inspire it. He was much pleased with
this visit, and, by way of acknowledgment, would have en
gaged him to play. The Chevalier de Grammont, in returning
him thanks, said, that he had learned from his tutor, that
when a man went to see his friends, it was neither prudent to
leave his own money behind him, nor civil to carry off theirs.
" Truly," said Monsieur de Turenne, " you will find neither
deep play nor much money among us ; but, that it may not be
said that we suffered you to depart without playing, let us
stake every one a horse."
The Chevalier de Grammont agreed. Fortune, who had
followed him to a place where he did not think he should
have any need of her, made him win fifteen or sixteen horses,
by way of joke ; but, seeing some countenances disconcerted at
the loss, " Gentlemen,'' said he, " I should be sorry to see you
return on foot from your general's quarters ; it will be enough
for me if you send me your horses to-morrow, except one,
which I give for the cards."
The valet-de-chambre thought he was bantering. " I speak
seriously," said the Chevalier, " I give you a horse for the cards ;
and, what is more, take whichever you please, except my own."
"Truly," said Monsieur de Turenne, " I am vastly pleased with
the novelty of the thing ; for I don't believe that a horse was
ever before given for the cards."
Trino surrendered at last. The Baron de Batteville* who
* This officer appears to have been the same person who was after
wards ambassador from Spain to the court of Great Britain, where in

28 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
had defended it valiantly, and for a long time, obtained a
capitulation worthy of such a resistance. I do not know whether
the Chevalier de Grammont had any share in the capture of
this place ; but 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 master, as we shall see in the sequel of these
memoirs.

the summer of 1660, he offended the French court, by claiming prece
dence of their ambassador, Count d'Estrades, on the public entry of
the Swedish ambassador into London. On this occasion the court of
France compelled its rival of Spain to submit to the mortifying circum
stance of acknowledging the French superiority. To commemorate this
important victory, Louis XIV. caused a medal to be struck, repre
senting the Spanish ambassador, the Marquis de Fuente, making the de
claration to that king, " No concurrer con los ambassadores des de
Francia," with this inscription, "Jus prsecedendi assertum," and under
it, "Hispaniorum excusatio coram xxxlegatis principum, 1662." Avery
curious account of the fray occasioned by this dispute, drawn up by
Evelyn, is to be seen in that gentleman's article in the BiograpkiaBritan-
nica. 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 officer of note,- and at that time was governor of
St. Sebastian, 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 reserva
tion and more jollity than the ministers of that crown used to do, and
drew such of the court to his table and conversation as he observed
to be loud talkers, and confident enough in the king's presence. —
Continuation of Clarendon, p. 84.

CHAPTER IV.

Hi

|ILITARY glory is at most but one 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 enterprises, 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 conquerors.
The Chevalier de Grammont and Matta, who did not think
much of these examples, were, however, of opinion, that it
would be very agreeable to refresh themselves after the fatigues
of the siege of Trino, by forming some other sieges, at the
expense of the beauties and the husbands of Turin. As the
campaign had finished early, they thought they should have
time to perform some exploits before the bad weather obliged
them to repass the mountains.
They sallied forth, therefore, not unlike Amadis de Gaul or
Don Galaor after they had been dubbed knights, eager in
their search after adventures in love, war, and enchantments.
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

30 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
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 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 liberally. 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 description, 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 pleasing. They
treated their wives with respect, and were courteous to
strangers. Their wives, still more handsome, were full as
courteous to strangers, and less respectful to their husbands.
Madame Royale* a worthy daughter of Henry IV. ren
dered her little court the most agreeable in the world. She
inherited such of her father's virtues as compose the proper
ornament of her sex; and with regard to what are termed
the foibles of great souls, her highness had in no wise de
generated. The Count de Tanes was her prime minister. It was not
* Christina, second daughter of Henry IV., married to Victor Ama-
deus, 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 Bloyale, 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,
with which possibly the admonitions of his father-confessor might
concur, this place became so odious to him, that, upon the death of
Madame Eoyale, he bestowed it on the hospital." She died in 1663.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 31
difficult to conduct affairs of state during his administration.
No complaints were alleged against him; and the princess,
satisfied with his conduct herself, was, above all, glad to have
her choice approved by her whole court, where people lived
nearly according to the manners and customs of ancient
chivalry. The ladies had each a professed lover, for fashion's sake,
besides volunteers, whose numbers were unlimited. The de
clared admirers wore their mistresses' liveries, their arms, and
sometimes even took their names. Their office was, never to
quit them in public, and never to approach them in private ;
to be their squires upon all occasions, and, in jousts and tour
naments, 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 ceremonies and worship of
love, which he thought very inconsistent : however, as he had
submitted his conduct in that matter to the direction of the
Chevalier 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 beauties, whose former squires gave them up immediately
from motives of politeness. The Chevalier de Grammont
chose Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain, and told Matta to
offer his services to Madame de Senantes. Matta consented,
though he liked the other better ; but the Chevalier de Gram
mont persuaded 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 instructions in love, as he had done his
advice in play.

32 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain was in the bloom of youth ;
her eyes were small, but very bright and sparkling, and, hke
her hair, were black ; her complexion was lively and clear,
though not fair : she had an agreeable mouth, two fine rows
of teeth, a neck as handsome as one could wish, and a most
delightful shape ; she had a particular elegance in her elbows,
which, however, she did not show to advantage ; her hands
were rather large and not very white ; her feet, though not of
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 em
bellishment 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 and perfectly charming; she was
all mirth, all life, all complaisance and politeness, and all was
natural, and always the same without any variation.
The Marchioness de Senantes* was esteemed fair, and she
might have enjoyed, if she had pleased, the reputation 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 corrective 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 invidious temper to be very
inquisitive about it. She had a great deal of wit, a good
memory, more reading, and a still greater inclination towards
tenderness. She had a husband whom it would have been criminal even
* Lord Orford says, the family of Senantes still remains in Piedmont,
and bears the title of Marquis de Carailles.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 33
in chastity to spare. He piqued himself upon being a Stoic,
and gloried in being slovenly and disgusting in honour of his
profession. In this he succeeded to admiration ; for he was
very fat, so that he perspired almost as much in winter as in
summer. Erudition and brutality seemed to be the most
conspicuous features of his character, and were displayed in
his conversation, sometimes together, sometimes alternately,
but always disagreeably : he was not jealous, 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 declared themselves, the
Chevaher de Grammont arrayed himself in green habiliments,
and dressed Matta in blue, these being the favourite colours
of their new mistresses. They entered immediately upon
duty : the Chevalier learned and practised all the ceremonies
of this species of gallantry, as if he always had been accus
tomed to them ; but Matta commonly forgot one half, and was
not over perfect in practising the other. He never could
remember that his office was to promote the glory, and not
the interest, of his mistress.
The Duchess of Savoy gave the very next day an enter
tainment at La Venerie* where all the ladies were invited.
* 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 describing the palace as it then was, he adds,—
" The palace garden at present consists only of hedges and walks, where
as formerly it had fine water- works and grottoes, besides the fountain of
Hercules and the temple of Diana, of which a description may be seen
in the Nouveau Theatre de Piedmont. But now nothing of these re
mains, being gone to ruin, partly by the ravages of the French, and
VOL. I. c

34 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
The Chevalier was so agreeable and diverting, that he made
his mistress almost die with laughing. Matta, in leading his
lady to the coach, squeezed her hand, and at their return from
the promenade he begged of her to pity 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 herself obliged to show some
degree of resentment, and pulling away her hand, which he
had pressed with still greater fervency upon this declaration,
she went up to the royal apartments without 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 fatigues of love, and went to bed
completely satisfied that he had performed his part to perfec
tion. During all this time the Chevalier de Grammont acquitted
himself towards Mademoiselle de Saint Germain with univer
sal applause ; and without remitting his assiduities, 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 heard them with
pleasure, and the solitary Senantes likewise attended to them.
He perceived this, and quitted his mistress to inquire what
she had done with Matta.
" I !" said she, " I have done nothing with him ; but I don't
partly by the king's order that they should be demolished, to male
room for something else ; but those vacuities have not yet, and probably
will not very soon be filled up,''

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 35
know what he would have done with me if I had been oblig
ing enough to listen to his most humble solicitations."
She then told him in what manner his friend had 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 intimacy more improved, and for her con
solation he assured her that he would have spoken in the
same manner to her Royal Highness herself; however, he
would not fail to give him a severe reprimand. He went the
next morning into his room for that purpose ; but Matta had
gone out early in the morning on a shooting party, in which he
had been engaged by his supper companions in the preceding
evening. At his return he took a brace of partridges and
went to his mistress. Being asked whether he wished to see
the Marquis, he said no ; and the Swiss telling him his lady
was not at home, 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 knew every particular. He
had taken it in dudgeon 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 examining into the cause, was glad to have them
again. He went to court without ever changing his clothes,
or in the least considering he ought not to appear there with
out his lady's colours. He found her becomingly dressed;
her eyes appeared to him more than usually sparkling, and her

36 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
whole person altogether divine. He began from that day to
be much pleased with himself for his complaisance to the
Chevaher de Grammont ; however, he could not help remark
ing that she looked but coldly upon him. This appeared to
him a very extraordinary return for his services, and, imagin
ing that she was unmindful of her weighty obligations to him,
he entered into conversation with her, and severely repri
manded her for having sent back his partridges with so much
indifference. She did not understand what he meant ; and highly offended
that he did not apologize, after the reprimand which she con
cluded him to have received, told him that he certainly had
met with ladies of very complying dispositions in his travels,
as he seemed to give to himself airs that she was by no means
accustomed to endure. Matta desired to know wherein he
could be said to have given himself any. " Wherein ?" said
she : " the second day that you honoured me with your atten
tions, you treated me as if I had been your humble servant
for a thousand years ; the first time that I gave you my hand
you squeezed it as violently as you were able. After this
commencement of your courtship, I got into my coach, and
you mounted your horse ; but instead of riding by the side of
the coach, as any reasonable gallant would have done, no
sooner did a hare start from her form, than you immediately
galloped full speed after her ; having regaled yourself, during
the promenade, 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 by soliciting me to sur
render niy reputation in terms polite enough, but very exphcit.
And now you talk to me of having been shooting of partridges
and of some visit or other, which, I suppose, you have been
dreaming of, as well as of all the rest."

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 37
The Chevaher de Grammont now advanced, to the inter
ruption of this whimsical dialogue. Matta was rebuked for
his forwardness, and his friend took abundant pains to con
vince him that his conduct bordered more upon insolence than
familiarity. Matta endeavoured to exculpate himself, but suc
ceeded ill. His mistress took compassion upon him, and con
sented to admit his excuses, for the manner, rather than his
repentance for the fact, and declared that it was the intention
alone which could either justify or condemn, in such cases ;
that it was very easy to pardon those transgressions which
arise from excess of tenderness, but not such as proceeded from
too great a presumption of success. 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 relieve it ; that
he was yet a novice in the arts of sohcitation ; that he could
not possibly think her more worthy of his affection, after a
month's service, than at the present moment ; and that he
entreated her to cast away an occasional thought upon him
when her leisure admitted. The Marchioness was not offended,
she saw very well that she must require an implicit conformity
to the established rule of decorum, when she had to deal with
such a character ; and the Chevalier de Grammont, after this
sort of reconciliation, went to look after his own affair with
Mademoiselle de St. Germain.
His concern was not the offspring of mere good nature, nay,
it was the reverse; for no sooner did he perceive that the
Marchioness looked with an eye of favour upon him, than this
conquest, appearing to him to be more easy than the other, he
thought it was prudent to take advantage of it, for fear of
losing the opportunity, and that he might not have spent all
his time to no purpose, in case he should prove unsuccessful
with the little St. Germain.

38 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
In the mean time, in order to maintain that authority which
he had usurped over the conduct of his friend, he, that very
evening, notwithstanding what had been already said, repri
manded him for presuming to appear at court in his morning
suit, and without his mistress's badge ; for not having had the
wit or prudence to pay his first visit to the Marquis de Senan
tes, instead of consuming his time, to no purpose, in mquiries
for the lady ; and, to conclude, he asked him what the devil
he meant by presenting her with a brace of miserable red par
tridges. " 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 non
sensical whimsies : my life on it, in one fortnight your equal
in foppery and folly will not be found throughout the confines
of Turin ; but, to reply to your questions, I did not call upon
Monsieur de Senantes, because I had nothing to do with him,
and because he is of a species of animals which I dislike, and
always shall dislike : as for you, you appear quite charmed
with being decked out in green ribands, with writing letters
to your mistress, and filling your pockets with citrons, pista
chios, and such sort of stuff, with which you are always cram
ming the poor girl's mouth, in spite of her teeth : you hope to
succeed by chanting ditties composed in the days of Corisande
and of Henry IV., which you will swear yourself have made
upon her : 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, provided you can make
Mademoiselle de St. Germain laugh, you are satisfied : as for
my part, I am persuaded, that women here are made of the
same materials as in other places ; and I do not think that
they can be mightily offended, if one sometimes leaves off

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 39
trifling, to come to the point : however, if the Marchioness is
not of this way of thinking, she may e'en provide herself else
where ; 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
gallantry to the test. But Matta proceeded upon a wrong
plan; he had conceived such an aversion for her husband,
that he could not prevail upon himself to make the smallest
advance towards his good graces. He was given 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 as he was lamenting his ill-fortune to her one day : "Have
the goodness, madam," said he, " to let me know where you
live : there is never a day 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," continued she, " that he is
a man whose acquaintance any one would very impatiently
covet for his conversation : on the contrary, I agree that his
humour is fantastical, and his manners not of the pleasing
cast ; but there is nothing so savage and inhuman, which a
little care, attention, and complaisance may not tame into
docility. I must repeat to you some verses upon the subject :
I have got them by heart, because they contain a little advice,
which you may accommodate, if you please, to your own
case."

40 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
EONDEATJ.
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,
And iv'ry teeth, and scented hair ;
That trinkets, and the pride of dress,
Can only give your scheme success. Keep in mind.
Has thy charmer e'er an aunt 1
Then learn the rules of woman's cant,
And forge a tale, and swear yon 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 encumbered with a mate,
A dull, old dotard should he be,
That dulness 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 exqui
site a monster for me. Why, what a plaguey odd ceremony
do you require of us in this country, if we cannot pay our com
pliments to the wife without being in love with the husband!"
The Marchioness was much offended at this answer ; and as
she thought she had done enough in pointing out to him the
path wliich would conduct liim to success, if he had deserved
it, she did not think it worth while to enter into any farther
explanation ; since he refused to cede, for her sake, so trifling

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 41
an objection : from this instant she resolved to have done with
him. The Chevalier de Grammont had taken leave of his mistress
nearly at the same time : the ardour of his pursuit was extin
guished. It was not that Mademoiselle de Saint Germain was
less worthy than hitherto of his attentions : on the contrary her
attractions visibly increased : she retired to her pillow with a
thousand charms, and ever rose from it with additional beauty :
the phrase of increasing in beauty as she increased in years
seemed to have been purposely made for her. The Chevaher
could not deny these truths, but yet he could not find his account
in them : a httle less merit, with a little less discretion, would
have been more agreeable. He perceived that she attended
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 without scruple ; but then he also discovered that
she did not wish to proceed any farther. He had exhausted
every species of address upon her, and all to no purpose : her
attendant was gained : her family, charmed with the music of
his conversation and his great attention, were never happy
without him : in short, he had reduced to practice the advice
contained in the Marchioness's song, and everything conspired
to deliver the little Saint Germain 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 the favour he desired
would cost her nothing ; and that since these treasures were
rarely comprised in the fortune a lady brings with her in
marriage, she would never find any person, who, by unremit
ting tenderness, unwearied attachment, and inviolable secrecy,
would prove more worthy of them than himself. He then told
her no husband was ever able to convey a proper idea of the
sweets of love, and that nothing could be more different than

42 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
the passionate fondness of a lover, always tender, always affec
tionate, yet always respectful, and the careless ^difference of
a husband. Mademoiselle de Saint Germain, not wishing to take the
matter in a serious hght, that she might not be forced to resent
it, answered, that since it was generally the custom in her
country to marry, she thought it was right to conform to it,
without entering into the knowledge of those distinctions, and
those marvellous particulars, wliich she did not very well un
derstand, 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 enter
taining to her, nor could be serviceable to him. Though no
one was ever more facetious than Mademoiselle de Saint Ger
main, she yet knew how to assume a very serious air, when
ever occasion required it. The Chevaher de Grammont 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
hide the designs he had upon the Marchioness de Senantes.
He found this lady much disgusted at Matta's want of com
plaisance; and his seeming contempt for her erased every
favourable impression which she had once entertained for him.
While she was in this humour, the Chevaher told her that
her resentment was just ; he exaggerated the loss which his
friend had sustained; he told her that her charms were a thou
sand times superior to those of the little Saint Germain, and
requested that favour for himself which his friend did not
deserve. He was soon favourably heard upon this topic; and
as soon as they were agreed, they consulted upon two measures
necessary to be taken, the one to deceive her husband, the

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 43
other his friend, which was not very difficult : Matta was not
at all suspicious : and the stupid Senantes, towards whom the
Chevalier had already behaved as Matta had refused to do,
could not be easy without him. This was much more than
was wanted ; for as soon as ever the Chevalier was with the
Marchioness,herhusbandimmediately joined them out of polite
ness ; 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 entirely ignorant that he was
disgraced, continued to serve his mistress in his own way.
She had agreed with the Chevalier de Grammont, that to all
appearance everything should be carried on as before; so that
the court always believed that the Marchioness only thought
of Matta, and that the Chevalier was entirely devoted to
Mademoiselle de Saint Germain.
There were very frequently httle lotteries for 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 httle Saint Germain very seldom received any
thing. There are meddling whisperers everywhere : remarks
were made upon these proceedings ; and the same person that
made them communicated them likewise to Mademoiselle de
Saint Germain. She pretended to laugh, but in reality was
piqued. It is a maxim religiously observed by the fair sex, to
envy each other those indulgences which themselves refuse.
She took this very ill of the Marchioness. On the other hand,
Matta was asked if he was not old enough to make his own pre
sents himself to the Marchioness de Senantes, without sending;
them by the Chevaher de Grammont. This roused him; for of
himself, he would never have perceived it: his suspicions, how-

44 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
ever, 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; a man serves
here without reward : he addresses himself to the husband
when he is in love with the wife, and makes presents to an
other man's mistress, to get into the good graces of his own.
The Marchioness is much obliged to you for  " " It is you
who are obliged," replied the Chevalier, " 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
attention : do you know that the people of this court have
such extraordinary 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 affairs that Matta should be acquainted with the
Marquis de Senantes, he plagued him so much about it, that at
last he complied. His friend introduced him, and his mistress
seemed pleased with this proof of complaisance, though she
was resolved that he should gain nothing by it ; and the hus
band, being gratified with a piece of civility which 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 dc Grammont answering for them both,
accepted the offer ; and as this was the only one Matta woidd
not have refused from the Marquis, he likewise consented.
The Marquis came to convey them in his carriage at the hour

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 45
appointed; but he found only Matta. The Chevaher had
engaged himself to play, on purpose that they might go with
out him: Matta was for waiting for him, so great was his
fear of being left alone with the Marquis ; but the Chevaher
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 inten
tion quickly to extricate Matta 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
therefore waited for the Chevaher de Grammont with inten
tions 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 sup
pose that this first opportunity would not have been lost, if
Mademoiselle de Saint Germain had not unexpectedly come
in, almost at the same time with the Chevaher.
She was more handsome and more entertaining that day
than she had ever been before; however, she appeared to them
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 havino-
passed above a long half hour in diverting herself with their
uneasiness, and in playing a thousand 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

46 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
anywhere. The Chevaher 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 Highness : Mademoiselle
de Saint Germain told her that she would have the honour to
accompany her, if it would not be disagreeable : she took not
the smallest notice of her offer ; and the Chevaher, finding
that it would be entirely useless to prolong his visit at that
time, retired with a good grace.
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, because the game might not perhaps
be finished as soon as he expected, but that he would be with
him before supper was over. Having despatched this messen
ger, he placed a sentinel 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 to
gether. He found there was no chance of seeing her again
that day, everything falling out contrary to his wishes; he
was forced therefore to leave the Marchioness, and go in quest
of the Marquis.
While these things were going on in the city, Matta was
not much diverted in the country: as he was prejudiced
against the Marquis, all that he said displeased him: he
cursed the Chevalier heartily for the tete-a-tete wliich 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 otlier company.
However, as his host was very choice in his entertainments..
and had the best wine and the best cook in all Piedmont, the

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 47
sight of the first course appeased him ; and eating most vo
raciously, without paying any attention to the Marquis, he
flattered himself that the supper would end without any dis
pute ; but he was mistaken.
When the Chevalier de Grammont was at first endeavouring
to bring about an intercourse between the Marquis and Matta,
he had given a very advantageous character of the latter, to
make the former more desirous of his acquaintance ; and in
the display of a thousand other accomplishments, knowing
what an infatuation the Marquis had for the very name of
erudition, he assured him that Matta was one of the most
learned men 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 reckon
ing ; no one had read less, no one thought less, and no one
had ever spoken so httle at an entertainment as he had done :
as he did not wish to enter into conversation, he opened his
mouth only to eat, or ask for wine.
The other, being offended at a silence which appeared to
him affected, and wearied with having uselessly attacked him
upon other subjects, thought he might get something out of
him by changing the discourse of love and gallantry; and
therefore, to begin the subject, he accosted him in this
manner :
" Since you are my wife's gallant  " " I !" said Matta. who
wished to carry it discreetly : " those who told you so, told a
damned he." "Zounds, sir," said the Marquis, "you speak
in a tone which does not at all become you ; for I would have
you to know, notwithstanding your contemptuous airs, that
the Marchioness de Senantes is perhaps as worthy of your
attentions as any of your French ladies, and that I have

48 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
known some greatly your superiors, who have thought it an
honour to serve her." " Very well," said Matta, " I think she
is very deserving, and since you insist upon it, I am her ser
vant and gallant, to oblige you."
" You think, perhaps," continued the other, " that the same
custom prevails in this country as in your own, and that the
ladies have lovers, 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 uneasy." " Nothing can be more civil,"
said Matta; "but wherefore would you not?" "I will tell
you why," replied he : "I am well acquainted with the affec
tion my wife entertains for me : I am acquainted with her
discretion towards all the world; and, what is more, I am
acquainted with my own merit."
" You have a most uncommon acquaintance then," rephed
Matta ; " I 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 say, on his
learning. He desired him, therefore, to tell him, at what time he
thought the Allobroges came to settle in Piedmont. Matta,
who wished him and his Allobroges at the devil, said, that
it must be in the time of the civil wars. "I doubt that,"
said the other. " Just as you hke," said Matta. " Under
what consulate ?" rephed 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 ?"
The Marquis was tolerably warm, and naturally savage, so
that God knows how the conversation would have ended, if

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 49
the Chevalier de Grammont had not unexpectedly come in to
to appease them. It was some time before he could find out
what their debate was ; for the one had forgotten the ques
tions, and the other the answers, which had disobliged him, in
order to reproach the Chevaher with his eternal passion for
play, which made him always uncertain. The Chevaher, who
knew that he was still more culpable than they thought, bore
it all with patience, and condemned himself more than they
desired: this appeased them; and the entertainment ended
with greater tranquillity than it had begun. The conversa
tion was again reduced to order ; but he could not enliven it
as he usually did. He was in very ill humour, and as he
pressed them every minute to rise from table, the Marquis
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 made perhaps an unfortunate retreat ; and asked him if
he had not stood in need of Serjeant La Place, with his am
buscade. This piece of history was beyond the comprehension of the
Marquis, and being afraid that Matta might explain it, the
Chevaher 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 intended for him ; however, it was
not for him, but for his wine, to which Matta had taken a pro
digious liking.
The Duchess, who knew the character of the Marquis, was
charmed with the account which the Chevaher de Grammont
gave her of the entertainment and conversation : she sent for
Matta to know the truth of it from himself : he confessed,
that before the Allobroges were mentioned the Marquis was
VOL. I. X)

30 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
for quarrelling with him, because 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 now directed towards Matta : he went every
day to pay Matta a visit, and Matta was every day with his
wife. This did not at all suit the Chevaher: he repented
of his having chid Matta, whose assiduity now interrupted
all his schemes; and the Marchioness was still more em
barrassed. Whatever wit a man may have, it will never please
where his company is disliked; and she repented that she
had been formerly guilty of some trifling advances towards
him. Matta began to find charms in her person, and might have
found the same in her conversation, if she had been inclined
to display them ; but it is impossible to be in good humour
with persons who thwart our designs. While his passion in
creased, the Chevalier de Grammont was solely occupied in
endeavouring to find out some method, by which he might
accomphsh his intrigue ; and this was the stratagem which he
put in execution to clear the coast, by removing, at one and
the same time, both the lover and the husband.
He told Matta, that they ought to invite the Marquis to
supper at their lodgings, and he would take upon himself to
provide everything proper for the occasion. Matta desired to
know if it was to play at quinze, and assured him that he
should take care to render abortive any intention he might
have to engage in play, and leave him alone with the greatest
blockhead in all Europe. The Chevalier de Grammont did
not entertain any such thought, being persuaded that it would
be impossible to take advantage of any such opportunity, in
whatever manner he might take his measures ; and that they

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 51
would seek for him in every corner of the city rather than
allow him the least repose : his whole attention was therefore
employed in rendering the entertainment agreeable, in finding
out means of prolonging it, in order ultimately to kindle some
dispute between the Marquis and Matta. For this purpose
he put himself in the best humour in the world, and the wine
produced the same effect on the rest of the company.
The Chevaher de Grammont expressed 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 Marquis 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 women 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 ended. They ridiculed all his arguments: the
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 hsten to his argu
ments 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 hew con
troversy. It was in vain that he had from time to time
started some subject of discourse with this intention; but
having lucidly thought of asking what was his lady's maiden
name, Senantes, who was a great genealogist, as all fools are
who have good memories, immediately began by tracing out
her family, by an endless confused string of lineage. The
Chevaher seemed to hsten to hrm with great attention ; and

52 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
perceiving that Matta was almost out of patience, he desired
him to attend to what the Marquis was saying, for that
nothing could be more entertaining. " All this may be very
true," said Matta ; " but for my part, I must confess, if I were
married, I should rather choose to inform myself who was the
real father of my children, than who were my wife's grand
fathers." The Marquis, smiling at this rudeness, did not leave
off until he had traced back the ancestors of his spouse, from
line to line, as far as Yolande de Senantes: after this he
offered to prove, in less than half an hour, that the Gram-
monts came originally from Spain. " Very well," said Matta,
" and pray what does it signify to us from whence the Gram-
monts are descended? Do not you know, sir, that it is
better to know nothing at all, than to know too much ?"
The Marquis maintained the contrary with great warmth,
and was preparing a formal argument to prove that an igno
rant man is a. fool ; but the Chevaher de Grammont, who was
thoroughly acquainted with Matta saw very clearly that he
would send the logician to the devil before he should arrive
at the conclusion of his syllogism : for which reason, inter
posing 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 hght, that it might
make the greater impression. Thus supper terminated peace
ably, owing to the care he took to suppress all disputes, and
to substitute plenty of wine in their stead.
The next day Matta went to the chase, the Chevaher de
Grammont to the bagnio, and the Marquis to his country
house. While the latter was making the necessary prepara
tions for his guests, not forgetting the music, and Matta
pursuing his game to get an appetite, the Chevalier was
meditating on the execution of his project.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 53
As soon as he had regulated his plan of operations in his
own mind, he privately sent anonymous intelligence to the
officer of the guard at the palace that the Marquis de Senantes
had had some words with Monsieur de Matta the preceding
night at supper ; that the one had gone out in the morning,
and the other could not be found in the city.
Madame Royale, alarmed at this advice, immediately sent
for the Chevaher de Grammont : he appeared surprised when
her highness mentioned the affair : he confessed, indeed, that
some high words had passed between them, but that he did
not believe either of them would have remembered 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 undertake to recon
cile them, and to obliterate all grievances : in this there was
no great difficulty. On inquiry at the Marquis's they were
informed that he was gone to his country-house : there cer
tainly he was, and there they found him ; the officer put him
under an arrest, without assigning any reason for so doing,
and left him in very great surprise.
Immediately upon Matta's return from hunting, her Royal
Highness sent the same officer to desire him to give her his
word that he would not stir out that evening. This compli
ment very much surprised him, more particularly as no reason
was assigned for it. He was expected at a good entertainment
he was dying with hunger, and nothing appeared to him more
unreasonable than to oblige him to stay at home, in a situation
like the present ; 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

54 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
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 : he said that he did not
beheve that he had offended him ; but that, since he was very
desirous of a quarrel, he desired the Chevaher to acquaint him,
if he felt the least displeasure on the present occasion, he
should, on the very first opportunity, receive what is called
satisfaction. The Chevaher de Grammont assured him that
no such thought had ever entered the mind of Matta ; that on
the contrary, he knew that he very greatly esteemed him;
that all this could alone arise 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 Mar
chioness, when speaking of Matta, that he was the best
swordsman in France ; for, in truth, the poor gentleman had
never fought without having the misfortune of killing his man.
The Marquis, being a httle pacified, said he was very much
obliged to him, that he would severely chide his wife for her
unseasonable tenderness, and that he was extremely desirous
of again enjoying the pleasure of his dear friend Matta's com
pany. The Chevaher de Grammont assured him that he would
use all his endeavours for that purpose, and at the same time
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 lodged, his next step was to secure
the other : he returned immediately to town : and as soon as

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 55
Matta saw him, "What the devil," said he, "is the meaning
;f this farce which I am obliged to act ? for my part, I cannot
understand the foolish customs of this country ; how comes it
that they make me a prisoner upon my parole ?" " How comes
it?" said the Chevaher de Grammont, "it is because you your
self are far more unaccountable than all their customs ; you
cannot help disputing with a peevish fellow, whom you ought
only to laugh at ; some officious footman has no doubt been
talking of your last night's dispute ; you were seen to go out
of town in the morning, and the Marquis soon after ; was not
this sufficient to make her Royal Highness think herself obhged
to take these precautions ? The Marquis is in custody ; they
have only required 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 kindness she has manifested to
wards you in putting you under arrest, 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 httle proba
bility that the matter should be settled this evening, you
would do well to order supper ; for I shall come back to you
immediately." Matta charged him not to fail to express to her Royal High
ness the grateful sense he had of her favour, though in truth
he as little feared the Marquis as he loved him ; and it is im
possible to express the degree of his fortitude in stronger
terms. The Chevaher de Grammont returned 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 quarrel,
waited upon him, and each offered him separately his services
against the unassisted and pacific Marquis. Matta having re-

56 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
turned them his thanks, insisted upon their staying supper,
and put on his robe de chambre.
As soon as the Chevaher de Grammont perceived that every
thing coincided with 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 permission of the company, and making use of a false
confidence in order to disguise a real treachery, he acquainted
him, after having sworn him several times to secrecy, that he
had at last prevailed upon the httle Saint Germain to grant
him an interview that night ; for which reason he would take
his leave, under pretence of going to play at Court ; he there
fore 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 point with discretion ; that he would make an apology
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 expedition
and secrecy imaginable ; so great was his fear lest his friend
should lose the present opportunity.
Matta then returned to the company, much pleased with
the confidence which had been placed in him, and with the
share he had in the success of this adventure. He put him
self into the best humour imaginable in order to divert the
attention of his guests ; he severely satirised those, whose rage
for gaming induced them to sacrifice to it every other consi
deration ; he loudly ridiculed the folly of the Chevaher upon
this article, and secretly laughed at the credulity of the Pied
montese, whom he had deceived with so much ingenuity.
It was late at night before the company broke up, and
Matta went to bed, very well satisfied with what he had done

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 57
for his friend ; and, if we may credit appearances, this friend
enjoyed the fruit of his perfidy. The amorous Marchioness
received him hke one who wished to enhance the value of the
favour she bestowed ; her charms were far from being neg
lected ; and if there are any circumstances in which we may
detest the traitor while we profit by the treason, this was not
one of them ; and however successful the Chevalier de Gram
mont was in his intrigues, it was not owing to him that the
contrary was not beheved ; but, be that as it may, being con
vinced that in love whatever is gained by address is gained
fairly, it does not appear that he ever showed the smallest
degree of repentance for this trick. But it is now time for us
to take him from the court of Savoy, to see him shine in that
of France.

CHAPTER V.

jjHE Chevaher de Grammont, upon his return to
France, sustained, with the greatest success, the
reputation he had acquired abroad: alert in
play, active and vigilant in love; sometimes
successful, and always feared, in his intrigues; in war ahke
prepared for the events of good or ill fortune ; possessing an
inexhaustible fund of pleasantry in the former, and full of
expedients and dexterity in the latter.
Zealously attached to the Prince de Conde * from inclina-
* Louis of Bourbon, Duke d'Enghien, afterwards, by the death of his
father in 1656, Prince de Conde. Of this great man Cardinal, de Retz
says, " He was born a general, which never happened but to Caesar, 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 charac
ter. 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 straight
bounds. He was not taught time enough the great and general maxima
which alone are able to form men to think always 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 continual 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
committed injuries ; that with the heart of an Alexander, he has, like
him. had his failings ; that with a wonderful understanding, he has

T\"J'.<I[3~ €Jf* HE ,r'UJS"]lJTE ,

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 59
tion, he was a witness, and, if we may be allowed to say it,
his companion, in the glory he had acquired at the celebrated
battles of Lens, Norlinguen, and Fribourg ;* and the details
he so frequently gave of them were far from diminishing their
lustre. So long as he had only some scruples of conscience, and a
thousand interests to sacrifice, he quitted all to follow a man,
whom strong motives and resentments, which in some manner
appeared excusable, had withdrawn from the paths of recti
tude : he adhered to him in his first disgrace, with a constancy
of which there are few examples ; but he could not submit to
the injuries which he afterwards received, and which such an
acted imprudently ; that having all the qualities which the Duke
Francis of Guise had, he has not served the state in some occasions so
well as he ought; and that having likewise having 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 uncommon, and only to be found in
persons of the greatest abilities." Memoirs, vol. i., p. 248, edit. 1723.
He 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 a place where the courtier never regards
anything but favour. He passed the remainder of his days, tormented
with the gout, relieving the severity of his pains, and employing the leisure
of his retreat, in the conversation of men of genius of all kinds, with
which France then abounded. He was worthy of their conversation ;
as he was not unacquainted with any of those arts and sciences in which
they shone. He continued to be admired even in his retreat ; but at
last that devouring fire, which, in his youth, had made him a hero, im
petuous, 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 Conde during the last two years of
his life. He died in 1686." Age of Lewis XI V., chap. 11. He was
aged 66 years.
* These were fought in the years 1648. 1645 and 1644.

(So MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
inviolable attachment so httle merited. Therefore, 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 Conde, he thought he had a
right to leave him to return again to his duty.
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
measures to conciliate the minds of the people. The pohcy of
the minister-)- was neither sanguinary nor revengeful: his
* Anne of Austria, daughter of Philip III. of Spain, widow of Louis
XIII., to whom she was married in 1615, and mother of Louis XIV.
She died in 1666. Cardinal de Eetz speaks of her in the following
terms. — " The queen had more than anybody whom I ever knew, of
that sort of wit which was necessary for her not to appear a, fool to .
those 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 Liberality ; more
of liberality than of self-interest ; more of self-interest ftian dis
interestedness : she was more tied to persons by habit than by affec
tion ; 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 firm
ness ; and more incapacity than of all the rest which I mentioned
before." Memoirs, vol. i., p. 247.
t Cardinal Mazarin, 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 Maza
rin. On his death, Louis XIV. and the court appeared in mourning,
an honour not common, though Henry IV. had shewn it to the memory
of Gabrielle d'Estre^s. Voltaire, who appears unwilling to ascribe much
ability to the cardinal, takes an opportunity, on occasion of his death, to
make the following observation. — "We cannot refrain from combatingthe
opinion, which supposes prodigious abilities, and a genius almost divine,

AH"H"JE. E^AXTTIFillCTHLTE

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 61
favourite maxim was rather to appease the minds of the dis
contented 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 handled, provided he
could amass much wealth, and to spin out the minority to the
greatest possible extent.
His avidity to heap up riches was not alone confined to the
thousand different means, with which he was furnished by his
authority, and the situation in which he was placed : his whole
pursuit was gain : he was naturally fond of gaming ; but he
only played to enrich himself, and therefore, whenever he
found an opportunity, he cheated.
As he found the Chevaher de Grammont possessed a great
deal of wit, and a great deal of money, he was a man accord
ing to his wishes, and soon became one of his set. The Cheva
lier soon perceived the artfulness and dishonesty of the Car
dinal, and thought it was allowable in him to put in practice
those talents which he had received from nature, not only in
his own defence, but even to attack him whenever an oppor
tunity offered. This would certainly be the place to mention
these particulars ; but who can describe them with such ease
and elegance as maybe expected by those who have heard his
own relation of them ? Vain is the attempt to endeavour to
transcribe these entertaining anecdotes : their spirit seems to
in those who have governed empires with some degree of success. It
is not a superior penetration that makes statesmen ; it is their charac
ter. 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 respect, is equal to Sejanus, Ximenes, Buckingham, Eichelieu, or
Mazarin ; but our conduct and our enterprises depend absolutely 'on
our natural dispositions, and our success depends upon fortune." Age
of Louis XIV., chap. 5.

62 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
evaporate upon paper ; and in whatever hght they are exposed
the delicacy of their colouring and their beauty is lost.
It is, then, enough to say, that upon all occasions where ad
dress was reciprocally employed, the Chevaher gained the
advantage ; and that if he paid his court badly to the minis
ter, he had the consolation to find, that those who suffered
themselves to be cheated, in the end gained no great advan
tage from their complaisance ; for they always continued in
an abject submission, while the Chevaher de Grammont, on a
thousand different occasions, never put himself under the least
restraint. Of which the following is one instance :
The Spanish army, commanded by the Prince de Conde and
the archduke* besieged Arras. The Court was advanced as
far as Peronne.f The enemy, by the capture of this place, would
have procured a reputation for their army of which they were
in great need ; as the French, for a considerable time past,
had evinced a superiority in every engagement.
The Prince supported a tottering party, as far 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 power it frequently happened that his great abili
ties were of no avail. The Spanish infantry had never re
covered itself since the battle of Rocroy ;% and he who had
ruined them by that victory, by fighting 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
* Leopold, brother of the Emperor Ferdinand the III.
t A little but strong town, standing among marshes on the river
Somme, in Picardy.
J This famous battle was fought and won 19th May, 1643, five days
after the death of Louis XIII.

¦r A W .1 ) II '.X A 11 , A 1 A 7, A K 3 M E „

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 63
of the generals, and the distrust attendant upon their counsels,
tied up his hands.
Nevertheless, the siege of Arras* was vigorously 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 hazard
ous to attempt its relief, the Prince de Conde being a man
who never neglected the smallest precaution for the security
of his lines ; and if hnes are attacked and not forced, the
•greatest danger threatens the assailants. For, the more furious
the assault, the greater is the disorder in the retreat ; and no
man in the world knew so well as the Prince de Conde" how
to make the best use of an advantage. The army, commanded
by Monsieur de Turenne, was considerably weaker than that
of the enemy ; it was, likewise, the only resource they had to
depend upon. If this army was defeated, the loss of Arras
was not the only misfortune to be dreaded.
The Cardinal, whose genius was happily adapted to such
junctures, where deceitful negotiations could extricate him out
of difficulties, was filled with terror at the sight of imminent
danger, or of a decisive event : he was of opinion to lay siege
* Voltaire observes, that it was the fortune of Turenne and Conde to
be always victorious when they fought at the head of the French, and
to be vanquished when they commanded the Spaniards. This was
Conde's fate before Arras, August 25, 1654, when he and the archduke
besieged that city. Turenne attacked them in their camp, and forced
their lines : the troops of the archduke were cut to pieces ; and Cond^,
with two regiments of French and Lorrainers, alone sustained the efforts
of Turenne's army ; and, while the archduke was flying, he defeated
the Marshal de Hoquincourt, repulsed the Marshal de la Ferte,
and retreated victoriously himself, by covering the retreat of the
vanquished Spaniards. The king of Spain, in his letter to him after
this engagement, had these words: " I have been informed that every
thing was lost, and that you have recovered everything."

64 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
to some other place, the capture of which might prove an in
demnification for the loss of Arras ; but Monsieur de Turenne,
who was altogether of a different opinion from the Cardinal,
resolved to march towards the enemy, and did not acquaint
him with his intentions until he was upon his march. The
courier arrived in the midst of his distress, and redoubled
his apprehensions and alarms ; but there was then no
remedy. The Marshal, whose great reputation had gained him the
confidence of the troops, had determined upon his measures
before an express order from the Court could prevent him.
This was one of those occasions in which the difficulties you
encounter heighten the glory of success. Though the general's
capacity, in some measure, afforded comfort to the Court, they
nevertheless were upon the eve of an event, which in one
way or other must terminate both their hopes and their fears :
while the rest of the courtiers were giving various opinions
concerning the issue, the Chevaher de Grammont determined
to be an eye-witness of it; a resolution which greatly sur
prised the court; for those who had seen as many actions
as he had, seemed to be exempted from such eagerness;
but it was in vain that his friends opposed his resolu
tions. The king was pleased with his intention ; and the queen
appeared no less satisfied. He assured her that he would
bring her good news ; and she promised to embrace him, if he
was as good as his word. The Cardinal made the same
promise : to the latter, however, he did not pay much atten
tion; yet he believed it sincere, because the keeping of it
would cost him no tiling.
He set out in the dusk of the evening with Caseau, whom
Monsieur de Turenne had sent express to their majesties.

¦JAMES DUKE CI YORK.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 65
The Duke of York* and the Marquis d'Humieres,f com
manded under the Marshal : the latter was upon duty when
the Chevalier arrived, it being scarce dayhght. The Duke of
York did not at first recollect him ; but the Marquis d'Hu-
mieres, running to him with open arms, " I thought," said he,
" if any man came from court to pay us a visit upon such an
occasion as this, it would be the Chevalier de Grammont.
Well," continued he, " what are they doing at Peronne ?"
"They are in great consternation," replied the Chevalier.
"And what do they think of us?" "They think," said he,
" that if you beat the Prince, you will do no more than your
duty ; if you are beaten, they will think you fools and mad
men, thus to have risked everything, without considering the
consequences." " Truly," 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 Grammont had ever any occasion for sleep ?"
rephed he: "Only order me a horse, that I may have the
honour to attend the Duke of York ; for, most hkely, he is
not in the field so early, except to visit some posts."
The advanced guard was only at cannon shot from that of
the enemy. As soon as they arrived there, " I should like,"
* Priorato, in his Memoirs of Cardinal Mazarin, mentions other
Englishmen besides the Duke of York being present ; as Lords Gerrard,
Barclay, and Jermyn, with others. Memoirs, 12mo, 1673, tome i.,
part 3, p. 365.
-f Louis de Crevans, Marechal of France. He died 1694. Voltaire
says of him, that he was the first who, at the siege of Arras, in 1658,
was served in silver in the trenches, and had ragouts and entremets
served up to his table.
VOL. I. E

66 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
said the Chevalier de Grammont, " to advance as far as the
sentry which is posted on that eminence : I have some friends
and acquaintance in their army, whom I should wish to in
quire after: I hope the Duke of York will give me per
mission." At these words he advanced. The sentry, seeing
him come forward directly to his post, stood upon his guard :
the Chevalier stopped as soon as he was within shot of him.
The sentry answered the sign which was made to him, and
made another to the officer, who had begun to advance as
soon as he had seen the Chevaher come forward, and was
soon up with him ; but seeing the Chevaher de Grammont
alone, he made no difficulty to let him approach. He desired
leave of this officer to inquire after some relations 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 ahghted
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 Cheva
lier. " 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 Chevaher de Gram
mont desires to speak to them :" and, after having despatched
one of his guard towards them, he returned. " Sir," said the
Chevalier de Grammont, " may I take the liberty to mquire
how I came to be known to you ?" " Is it possible," said the
other, "that the Chevaher de Grammont should forget La
Motte, who had the honour to serve so long in his regiment ?"
" What ! is it you, my good friend, La Motte ? Truly, I was
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 triolets :

TMlv^iA D'AJBLTEMas-J.^^.TJ

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 67
and I am afraid your affairs are not in so flourishing a con
dition as they were the campaign after I had given you the
company you mention." They were talking in this manner,
when the Duke d'Arscot, followed by the gentlemen above
mentioned, came up on full gallop. The Chevaher de Gram
mont was saluted by the whole company before he could say
a word. Soon after arrived an immense number of others of
his acquaintance, 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 surprised him: he
hastened that way ; and the Marquis d'Humieres acquainted
him with the arrival of the Chevalier de Grammont, who
wished to speak to the sentry before he went to the head
quarters : he added, that he could not comprehend how the'
devil he had managed to assemble both armies around him,
for it was hardly a minute since he had left him. " Truly,"
said Monsieur de Turenne, " he is a very extraordinary man ;
but it is only reasonable that he should let us now have
a httle of his company, since he has paid his first visit to the
enemy." At these words he despatched an aide-de-camp, to
recal the officers of his army, and to acquaint the Chevaher
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 Condd, being
informed of this peaceable interview, was not the least sur
prised at it, when he heard that it was occasioned by the
arrival of the Chevalier de Grammont. He only gave Lussan
orders to recal the officers, and to desire the Chevalier to meet
him at the same place the next day; which the Chevaher

68 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
promised to do, provided Monsieur de Turenne should ap
prove of it, as he made no doubt he would.
His reception in the king's army was equally agreeable as
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 in a time so critical as
the present: the questions which he asked him about the
court were not so much for information, as to divert himself
with his manner of relating their different apprehensions and
alarms. The Chevaher de Grammont advised him to beat
the enemy, if he did not choose to be answerable for an en
terprise which he had undertaken without consulting the
Cardinal. Monsieur de Turenne promised him he would
exert himself to the utmost to follow his advice, and assured
him, that if he succeeded, he would make the queen keep her
word with him ; and concluded with saying, that he was not
sorry the Prince de Conde' had expressed a desire to see him.
His measures were taken for an attack upon the lines: on
this subject he discoursed in private with the Chevaher de
Grammont, and concealed nothing from him except the time
of execution : but this was all to no purpose ; for the Cheva
lier had seen too much, not to judge, from his own know
ledge, and the observations he had made, that from the situa
tion of the army, 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 which Monsieur
de Lussan had described to him the evening before. As soon
as he ahghted : " Is it possible," said the Prince, embracing
him, " that this can be the Chevaher de Grammont, and that
I should see liim in the contrary party ? " " It is you, my
lord, whom I see there," rephed the Chevaher, " and I refer

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 69
it to yourself, whether it was the fault of the Chevaher de
Grammont, or your own, that we now embrace different in
terests." " 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 was your motive for
coming here, you, whom I thought at Peronne with the
court." " Must I 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 a 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,
as 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 service, though the being taken
prisoner at that time could not have been so dangerous to
me as now."
From this conversation, they passed to more entertaining
subjects. The Prince asked him many questions concerning
the court, the ladies, play, and about his amours ; and return
ing insensibly to the present situation of affairs, the Chevalier
having inquired 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 opportunity
not only of seeing those whom he inquired after, but likewise
the disposition of the quarters and entrenchments. To this he
* Henry, Duke of Montmorency, who was taken prisoner first Sep
tember, 1692, and had his head struck off at Toulouse in the month
of November following.

70 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
consented, and the Prince having shown him all the works
and attended him back to their rendezvous, " Well, Chevaher,
said he, " when do you think we shall see you again ?" " Faith,"
rephed he, "you have used me so handsomely, that I shall
conceal nothing from you. Hold yourself in readiness an hour
before daybreak ; for, you may depend upon it, we shall attack
you to-morrow morning. I would not have acquainted you
with this, perhaps, had I been entrusted with the secret, but,
nevertheless, in the present case you may beheve me." " You
are still the same man," said the Prince, again embracing
him. The Chevaher 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 Chevaher, 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 shown me all the civihty
imaginable," rephed the Chevaher ; " and, to convince me he
did not take me for a spy, he led me round the lines and en
trenchments, and showed me the preparations he had made for
your reception." " And what is his opinion ?" said the Mar
shal. " He is persuaded that you will attack him to-night,
or to-morrow by daybreak ; for you great captains," continued
the Chevalier, " see through each other's designs in a wonder
ful manner."
Monsieur de Turenne, with pleasure, received this commen
dation from a man who was not indiscriminately accustomed
to bestow praise. He communicated to liim the disposition of
the attack ; and at the same time acquainted 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 advan-

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 71
tage 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 former without any re
freshment, he consigned him to the Marquis d'Humieres, who
provided him with a supper and a lodging.
The next day the lines of Arras were attacked, wherein
Monsieur de Turenne, being victorious, added additional lustre
to his former glory ; and the Prince de Conde, though van
quished, lost nothing of his former reputation.
There are so many accounts of this celebrated battle, that to
mention it here would be altogether superfluous. The Cheva
lier de Grammont, who, as a volunteer, was permitted to go into
every part, has given a better description of it than any other
person. Monsieur de Turenne reaped great advantage from
that activity which never forsook the Chevalier either in peace
or war ; and that presence of mind which enabled him to carry
orders, as coming from the general, so very apropos, that
Monsieur de Turenne, otherwise very particular in such mat
ters, thanked him, when the battle was over, in the presence
of all his officers, and despatched him to court with the first
news of his success.
All that is generally necessary in these expeditions, is to be
accustomed to hard riding, and to be well provided with fresh
horses, but he had a great many other obstacles to surmount.
In the first place, the parties of the enemy were dispersed over
all the country, and obstructed his passage. Then he had
to prepare against greedy and officious courtiers, who, on
such occasions, post themselves in all the avenues, in order
to cheat the poor courier out of his news. However, his
address preserved him from the one, and deceived the
others. He had taken eight or ten troopers, commanded by an

72 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
officer of his acquaintance, to escort him half way to Bapaume,*
being persuaded that the greatest danger would lie between
the camp and the first stage. He had not proceeded a league
before he was convinced of the truth of what he suspected, and
turning to the officer who followed him closely, " If you are
not well mounted," said he, " I would advise you to return to
the camp ; for my part, I shall set spurs to my horse, and make
the best of my way." " Sir," 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," rephed the Cheva
lier, "for those gentlemen there seem prepared to pay us a
visit." " Don't you see," said the officer, " they are some of
our own people who are grazing their horses ?" " No/' said
the Chevaher ; " but I see very well that they are some of the
enemy's troopers." Upon which, observing to him that they
were mounting, 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 Enghsh horse ; but hav
ing entangled himself in a hollow way where the ground was
deep and miry, he soon had the troopers at his heels, who, sup
posing him to be some officer of rank, would not be deceived,
but continued 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, swift as the wind on even ground,
proceeded but very indifferently in bad roads ; the trooper pre
sented his carbine, and cried out to him, at some distance;
" Good quarter." The Chevaher de Grammont, who perceived
* 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 particular governor of its own, a royal and forest court. In 1641
the French took it from the Spaniards.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 73
that they gained upon him, and that whatever efforts his horse
made in such heavy ground, he must be overtaken at last,
immediately quitted the road to Bapaume, and took a cause
way 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 intention, and think
ing that he only waited to surrender, immediately exerted
every effort, that he might take him before the rest of his com
panions, who were following, could arrive, and by this means
almost killed his horse.
One minute's reflection made the Chevaher 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 scoundrels who had not been in
it, and, instead 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
displeasing, made a sign to him to lower his piece ; and per
ceiving his horse to he in wind, he lowered his hand, rode off
like lightning, and left the trooper in such astonishment that
he even forgot to fire at him.
As soon as he arrived at Bapaume, he changed horses ; the
commander of this place showed him the greatest respect, as
suring him that no person had yet passed ; that he would keep
the secret, and that he would retain all that followed him, ex
cept the couriers of Monsieur de Turenne.
He now had only to guard against those who would be

74 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
watching for him about the environs of Peronne, to return 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-
boury, had boasted of this to the Cardinal before his departure.
Wherefore, to elude this snare, he hired two well-mounted
horsemen at Bapaume, and as soon as he had got a league from
that place, and after giving them each 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 who should ask them any
questions, " that all was lost, that the Chevaher de Grammont
had stopped at Bapaume, having no great inclination 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 country since the defeat."
Everything succeeded to his wish : the horsemen were in
tercepted by Gaboury, whose eagerness had outstripped the
two marshals"; but whatever questions were asked them, they
acted their parts so well, that Peronne was already in con
sternation, and rumours of the defeat were whispered among
the courtiers, when the Chevaher de Grammont arrived.
Nothing so 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 Ma
jesties received it with that transport of joy 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 action wliich deserved a
handsome reward, or whether it was from a return of that
insolence which always accompanied him in prosperity,
appeared at first not to pay any attention to what he said, and

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 75
being afterwards informed that the hnes had been forced, that
the Spanish army was beaten, and that Arras was relieved :
" Is the Prince de Cond£ taken ?" said he. " No," rephed the
Chevalier de Grammont. " He is dead then, I suppose ?" said
the Cardinal. "Not so, neither," answered the Chevalier,
" Fine news indeed !" said the Cardinal, with an air of con
tempt ; 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 questions,
and the conclusion he had drawn from them.
The court was filled with the Cardinal's spies : the Cheva
lier, as is usual on such an occasion, was surrounded by a
crowd of courtiers and inquisitive 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 perhaps have told him to his face.
" Faith, gentlemen," said he, with a sneer, " there is nothing
like being zealous and eager in the service of kings and great
princes : you have seen what a gracious reception his Majesty
has given me ; you are likewise witnesses in what an obliging
manner the queen kept her promise with 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 Mazarin."-f-
* 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 Chevalier de Grammont, Rouville, Bellefonds, and some other
courtiers, attended in the cardinal's suite, a degree of flattery which
astonished everybody who knew him. I was informed that the Cheva
lier wore a very rich orange-coloured dress on that occasion." Lettres
de Maintenon, tome i. p. 32.
t Peter Mazarin was father to the Cardinal. He was a native of
Palermo in Sicily, which place he left in order to settle at Bonie, where
he died in the year 1654.

76 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
This was sufficient to terrify all those who were sincerely
attached to 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 ut
most mahgnancy, to make a merit of their vigilance with a
powerful and absolute minister. Of this the Chevaher de
Grammont was thoroughly convinced ; yet whatever detri
ment he foresaw might arise 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 expected.
The next day, when the Chevaher de Grammont was present
while their Majesties were at dinner, the Cardinal came in,
and coming up to him, everybody making way for him out of
respect : " Chevaher," said he, " the news which you have
brought is very good, their Majesties are very well satisfied
with it ; and to convince you it is more advantageous to me
than the death of Peter Mazarin, if you will come and dine
with me we will have some play together ; for the queen will
give us something to play for, over and above her first
promise." In this manner did the Chevalier de Grammont dare to
provoke a powerful minister, and this was all the resentment
which the least vindictive of all statesmen expressed on the
occasion. It was indeed very unusual for so young a man to
reverence the authority of ministers no farther, than as they
were themselves respectable by then' merit ; for this, his own
breast, as well as the whole court, applauded him, and he en
joyed the satisfaction of being the only man who durst pre
serve the least shadow of hberty, in a general state of servi
tude ; but it was perhaps owing to the Cardinal's passing over

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 77
this insult with impunity, that he afterwards drew upon him
self some difficulties, by other rash expressions less fortunate
in the event.
In the mean time the court returned : the Cardinal, who
was sensible that he could no longer keep his master in a
state of tutelage, being himself worn out with cares and sick
ness, and having amassed treasures he knew not what to do
with, and being sufficiently loaded with the weight of public
odium, he turned all his thoughts towards terminating, in a
manner the most advantageous for France, a ministry wliich
had so cruelly shaken that kingdom. Thus, while he was
earnestly laying the foundations of a peace so ardently wished
for, pleasure and plenty began to reign at court.
The Chevaher de Grammont experienced for a long time a
variety of fortune in love and gaming : he was esteemed by
the courtiers, beloved by beauties whom he neglected, and a
dangerous favourite of those whom he admired ; more succes-
ful in play than in his amours ; but the one indemnifying him
for want of success in the other, he was always full of hfe and
spirits ; and in all transactions of importance, always a man
of honour.
It is a pity that we must be forced here to interrupt the
course of his history, by an interval of some years, as has
been already done at the commencement of these memoirs.
In a life where the most minute circumstances are always
singular and diverting, we can meet with no chasm which
does not afford regret ; but whether he did not think them
worthy of holding a place among his other adventures, or that
he has only preserved a confused idea of them, we must
pass to the parts of these fragments which are better ascer
tained, that we may arrive at the subject of his journey to
England.

78 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
The peace of the Pyrenees* the king's marriage,t the
return of the Prince de Conde, J and the death of the Car
dinal, gave a new face to the state. The eyes of the whole
nation were fixed upon their king, who, for nobleness of mien,
and gracefulness of person, had no equal ; but it was not then
known that he was possessed of those superior abilities, which,
filling his subjects with admiration, in the end made him so
formidable to Europe. Love and ambition, the invisible
springs of the intrigues and cabals of all courts, attentively
observed his first steps : pleasure promised herself an absolute
empire over a prince who had been kept in ignorance of the
necessary rules of government, and ambition had no hopes of
reigning in the court except in the minds of those who were
able to dispute the management of affairs ; when men were
surprised to see the king on a sudden display such brilliant
abilities, which prudence, in some measure necessary, had so
long obliged him to conceal.
An application, inimical to the pleasures which generaUy
attract that age, and which unlimited power very seldom
refuses, attached him solely to the cares of government : all
admired this wonderful change, but all did not find their
account in it: the great lost their consequence before an
absolute master, and the courtiers approached with reverential
awe the sole object of their respects and the sole master of
their fortunes : those who had conducted themselves hke
petty tyrants in their provinces, and on the frontiers, were
now no more than governors : favours, according to the king's
* This treaty was concluded 7th November, 1659.
f Louis XIV. with Maria Theresa of Austria. She, was born 20th
September, 1638, married 1st June, 1660, and entered Paris 26th
August following. She died at Versailles 30th Jul}-, 1633, and was
buried at St. Denis.
Jllth April.— See De Lct:'s Memoirs, vol. iii. p. 119.

L'Oiriy TH1E F rsTJTRTF/EITTEL

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 79
pleasure, were sometimes conferred on merit, and sometimes
for services done the state ; but to importune, or to menace
the court, was no longer the method to obtain them.
The Chevaher de Grammont regarded 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
himself, or that he should give up so many hours of pleasure,
to devote them to the tiresome duties, and laborious 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. Dis
daining 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 arbitrary power of the one, nor gave his approbation to the
artifices of the other ; he had never received anything from
Cardinal Richelieu but an abbey, which, on account of his
rank, could not be refused him; and he never acquired
anything from Mazarin but what he won of him at play.
By many years' experience under an able general he had
acquired a talent for war ; but this during a general peace was
of no further 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 endeavour
ing to gain the good opinion of his master, in making the best
use of those advantages which nature had given him for play,
and in putting in practice new stratagems in love.
He succeeded very well in the two first of these projects,
and as he had from that time laid it down as the rule of his
conduct to attach himself solely to the king in all his views of
preferment) to have no regard for favour unless when it was
supported by merit, to make himself beloved by the courtiers

80 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
and feared by the minister, to dare to undertake anything in
order to do good, and to engage in nothing at the expense 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 successful, in love unfortunate ; or, to speak more
properly, his restlessness and jealousy overcame his natural
prudence, in a situation wherein he had most occasion for it.
La Motte Agencourt 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 the king to cast his eye upon a
young lady of the court to inspire her with hopes, and often
with tender sentiments ; but if he spoke to her more than
once, the courtiers took it for granted, and those who had
either pretensions to, or love for her, respectfully withdrew
both the one and the other, and afterwards only paid her
respect ; hut the Chevaher de Grammont thought fit to act
quite otherwise, perhaps to preserve a singularity of character,
which upon the present occasion was of no avail.
He had never before thought of her, but as soon as he found
* These two ladies at this period seem to have made a distinguished
figure in the annals of gallantry. One of their contemporaries mentions
them in these terms : " In this case, perhaps, I can give a better
account than most people ; as, for instance, they had raised a report,
when the queen-mother expelled Mademoiselle de la Motte Agen
court, that it was on his score, when I am assured, upon very good
grounds, that it was for entertaining the Marquis de Bichelieu against
her majesty's express command. This lady, who was one of her maids
of honour, was a person whom I was particularly acquainted with; and
that so much, as 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 Comte de Roclifort, 1696, p. 210. See
also Anquetil, Louis XVI. sa Cour et le Begad, tome i. p. 46.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 81
that she was honoured with the king's attention, he was of
opinion that she was likewise deserving of his. Having
attached 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 complained of him : and then it was that he
perceived that if love renders all conditions equal, it is not so
between rivals. He was banished the court, and not finding
any place in France which could console him for what he most
regretted — the presence and sight of his prince — after having
made some slight reflections upon his disgrace, and bestowed
a few imprecations against her who was the cause of it, he
at last formed the resolution of visiting England.

VOL. I.

CHAPTER VI.
jjURIOSITY to see a man equally famous for his
crimes and his elevation, had once before in
duced the Chevaher de Grammont to visit
England. Reasons of state assume great privi
leges. Whatever appears advantageous is lawful, 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 splendid embassies to Cromwell.
This man, whose ambition had opened him a way to sove
reign power by the greatest crimes, maintained himself in it
by accomplishments which seemed to render him worthy of it
by their lustre. The nation, of all Europe the least submis
sive, patiently bore a yoke which did not even leave her the
shadow of that liberty of which she is so jealous ; and Crom
well, master of the Commonwealth, under the title of Protector,
feared at home, but yet more dreaded abroad, was at his
highest pitch of glory when he was seen by the Chevalier 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 man
ners, instead of the luxury which the pomp of courts displays

iHTVE'"R f I'i© M'WT?, 3,71,

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 83
all taken together, presented nothing but sad and serious
objects in the finest city in the world; and therefore the
Chevaher acquired nothing by this voyage but the idea of
some merit in a profligate man, and the admiration of some
concealed beauties he had found means to discover.
Affairs wore quite a different appearance at his second voyage.
The joy for the restoration of the royal family still appeared
in all parts. The nation, fond of change and 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 Chevaher de Grammont arrived about two years after
the restoration. The reception he met with in this court soon
made him forget the other ; and the engagements he in the
end contracted in England lessened the regret he had in
leaving France.
This was a desirable retreat for an exile of his disposition
* Bishop Burnet confirms this account. "With the restoration of the
king," says he, " a spirit of extravagant joy spread over the nation, that
brought on with it the throwing off the very professions of virtue and
piety. All ended in entertainments and drunkenness which overrun the
three kingdoms to such a degree, that it very much corrupted all their
morals. Under the colour of drinking the king's health, there were
great disorders, and much riot everywhere : and the pretences of religion,
both in those of the hypocritical sort, and of the more honest, but no
less pernicious enthusiasts, gave great advantages, as well as they fur
nished much matter to the profane mockers of true -piety."— History of
his own Times, vol. i. p. 127, 8vo. edit. Voltaire says, King Charles " was
received 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.

84 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
Everything flattered his taste, and if the adventures he had in
this country were not the most considerable, they were at
least the most agreeable of his life. But before we relate
them it will not be improper to give some account of the
Enghsh court, as it was 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 ill-
fortune to the last extremity that he submitted to the decrees
of Providence.
All those who were either great on account of their birth
or their loyalty had followed him into exile ; and all the young
persons of the greatest distinction having afterwards joined
him, composed a court worthy of a better fate.
Plenty and prosperity, which are thought to tend only to
corrupt manners, found nothing to spoil in an indigent and
wandering court. Necessity, on the contrary, wliich produces
a thousand advantages whether we will or no, served them for
education ; and nothing was to be seen among them but an
emulation in glory, politeness, and virtue.
With this little court, in such high esteem for merit, the
King of England returned two years prior to the period we
mention, to ascend a throne which, to all appearances, he was
to fill as worthily as the most glorious of his predecessors.
The magnificence displayed on this occasion was renewed at his
coronation* * There is some reason to believe that the Count de Grammont, whose
circumstances at his first arrival at the court of Britain were inferior to
his rank, endeavoured to distinguish hiiuself by his literary acquire
ments. A scarce little book, in Latin and French, upon the coronation,
has been ascribed to him with some probability. The initials subscribed

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 85
in different places of the work are P. D. O, which may correspond to
Philibert de Cramont, in which manner the family name was often
spelt ; and the dedication seems to apply accurately to the count's
circumstances. The full title runs : —
"Complementum Fortunatarum Insularum, sive Galathea Vaticinans;
being part of an epithalamium upon the auspicious match of the most
puissant and most serene Charles II., and the most illustrious Catharina,
Infanta of Portugal ; with a description of the Fortunate Islands.
Written originally in French, by P. D. C, Gent.,* and since translated
by him into Latin and English. With the translations also of the
Description of S. James's Park, and the late Fight at S. Lucar, by Mr.
Edmund Waller ; the Panegyric of Charles the Second, by Mr. Dryden ;
and other pieces relating to the present times. London, printed by
W. G., 1662.
It is dedicated to James Boteler, Earl of Ossory, Viscount Thorle,
afterwards Duke of Ormond, previous to his going to Ireland,f which
dedication concludes thus ; "The utmost height of my ambition, and
the utmost scope of my design at present, my lord, is only since I have
no other means left me to provide for my attendance upon your lordship
and the heads of your honourable family, in this your journey, that
you will be pleased to accept of me, in this slender garb, being every
way otherwise disappointed by the frowns of fortune, and so unfit to
pretend admittance in so splendid a train ; unless it be
Nelle scorta di Febo, che a vos s'inchina,
Tutta ridente, tutta di scherzi piena.
But, my lord, my own words on another occasion :
 Si, quelque jour, la Fortune
Met en plus grande liberie'
Mon Genie persecute
Des rigueurs de cette importune, —
Peut-etre d'un burin plus sure
Et d'un vers rempli de douceur —
D'Ormond j'entreprendrai l'image ;

* The state of his fortune at this period not allowing the splendour of
a French nobleman, he was only considered a private gentleman, and
this he hints at in the dedication that follows.
t Philibert, Count Grammont married the Duke of Ormond's sister.

86 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
Et dans les beaux exploits de tous ses descendana
La depeindrai si bien que la plus fiere rage
Respectera ses traits jusqu'k la fin des temps.
This is the vow, this is the serious wish of him, my lord, who desires,
for no better end, to be once again restored to the state of his former
fortune, than to become thereby more ready and capable to wait here
after on your lordship otherwise than by his pen, and so declare, by some
more real deed than poetical expressions, how unfeignedly he is,
My lord, Your lordship's
Most true and most devoted servant,
P. D. C.
The contents of this book consist chiefly of poetry of a complimentary
nature. The following well-known lines of Waller's, on Westminster
Abbey, he has given with much taste : —
" From hence he does that antique pile behold,
Where royal heads receive the sacred gold ;
It gives them crowns, and does their ashes keep ;
There made like gods, like mortals there they sleep."
" Passant plus outre il voit la chapelle oil nos rois
Kecoivent for sacree, et leur gardant les loix ;
La terre aussi sacree egalement leur donne
La droit de sepulture et la droit de couronne."
The contents of the volume are : —
A Song of the Sea Nymph Galatea, upon the marriage of Charles IL
and the Princess Infanta of Portugal, (15 stanzas of ten lines each).
The same in Latin.
The same in French.
St. James's Park, by Waller, in English, French, and Latin.
Of the late War with Spain, 1657, and our Victory at St. Lucar, near
Cadiz, by the same, in English and French.
On his sacred Majesty's Coronation, by Dryden, English and French.
The Fortunate Islands, being part of a larger poem written formerly
in French, upon the happy inauguration of Charles IL— By P. D. C;
and since by him translated in English and Latin. Dedicated to his
dear friend Edmund Waller, Esq., with a specimen of an English
version. Another dedication : " To Prince Bupert, as a monument of his

lh'lf KiK Ol'' .(i.l,('3('F,ST'KK.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 87
The death of the Duke of Gloucester* and of the Princess
devoted respects and due esteem of his Highness's celebrated virtues and
great experience in sea voyages ; and as a deserved acknowledgment of
his Highness's indefatigable endeavours in promoting English planta
tions, P. D. C. humbly dedicates this Pindaric Rapture : being part of
his poem of the Fortunate Islands, formerly written in French, and
addressed to the King's Majesty upon the solemnity of his auspicious
coronation." — 25 Stanzas of ten lines each.
The same in Latin.
The King's excursion on the Thames, July anno 1661 ; An extem
pore Ode, " To the great and illustrious William, Earl of Devonshire,
the noble and judicious Msecenas of polite literature ; P. D. C. dedi
cates it in obedient and grateful testimony," &c.
A short Ode of about 60 lines.
If we are correct in imputing this work to Grammont, he must have
been in England at the time of the Coronation, which agrees tolerably
with the vague expression in the text that he arrived about two years
after the Restoration. For this ceremony did not take place 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;
the whole show as Lord Clarendon observes, being the most glorious
in the order and expence, that had ever been seen in England. The pro
cession 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 Claren
don, p. 29. Rennet's Register, 411.
* This event took place September 3rd, 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 brothers:
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
firmness of mind. Attached to the religion, and a friend to the con
stitution of his country, he was most regretted, when his family regarded
these the least. The vulgar, who crowd with eminent virtues and
great actions the years which fate denies to their favourites, foresaw
future misfortunes in his death ; and even the judicious supposed that
the measures of Charles might have derived solidity from his judgment

88 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
Royal * which followed soon after, had interrupted the course
of this splendour by a tedious mourning, which they quitted
at last to prepare for the reception of the Infanta of Portugal.y

and promising parts. The king lamented his death with all the vehe •
mence 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 par
ticular 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 accomplish
ments, necessary to make a great prince. Macpherson's History of
Great Britain, cb . 1 . Bishop Burnet's character of this young prince
is also very favourable. See History of his Oion Times, vol. i. p. 238.
* Mary, eldest daughter of Charles L, born November 4th, 1631,
married to the Prince of Orange, 2nd May, 1641, who died 27th October,
1650. She arrived in England, September 23rd, and died of the small
pox, December 24th, 1660, — according to Bishop Burnet, not much
lamented. " She had lived," says the 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 beheve anything she had a mind
to, upon a conversation with the queen-mother of France, fancied the
King of France might be inclined 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 support. 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 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.
t " 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 Portuguese of quality, and two or three Portuguese women.
What made this necessary was, that the Earl of Sandwich did not
marry her by proxy, as usual, before she came away. How this hap-

I-H&IS 'CESS of ©38. A>' C&TR

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 89
It was in the height of the rejoicings they were making for
this new queen, in all the splendour of a brilliant court, that
the Chevaher de Grammont arrived to contribute to its mag
nificence and diversions.
Accustomed as he was to the grandeur of the court of
Prance, he was surprised at the pohteness and splendour of
the court of England. The king was inferior to none,* either
in shape or air ; his wit was pleasant ; his disposition easy
and affable ; his soul, susceptible of opposite impressions, was
compassionate to the unhappy, inflexible to the wicked, and
tender even to excess; he showed great abilities in urgent
affairs, but was incapable of application to any that were not
so : his heart was often the dupe, but oftener the slave, of his
engagements. The character of the Duke of Yorkf was entirely different :
pened, 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
II.'s Journal. — Macpherson's State Papers, vol. i. In the same col
lection is a curious letter from the King to Lord Clarendon, giving his
opinion of the queen after having seen her.
* Charles II. was born 29th May, 1630, and died 6th February,
1684-5. His character is very amply detailed, and accurately depicted
by George Saville, Marquis of Halifax, in a volume published by his
granddaughter, the Countess of Burlington, 8vo., 1750. See also
Burnet, Clarendon, and Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham.
t 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 magni
fied by Monsieur Turenne, that till his marriage lessened him, he
really clouded the king, and passed for the superior genius. He was
naturally candid and sincere, and a firm friend, till affairs and his
religion wore out all his first principles and inclinations. He had a

90 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
he had the reputation of undaunted courage, an inviolable
attachment for his word, great economy in his affairs, hauteur,
apphcation, arrogance, each in their turn : a scrupulous ob
server of the rules of duty and the laws of justice ; he was
accounted a faithful friend, and an implacable enemy.
His morahty and justice, struggling for some time with
prejudice, had at last triumphed, by his acknowledging for
his wife Miss Hyde,* maid of honour to the Princess Royal,

great desire to understand affairs : and in order to that he kept a con
stant journal of all that passed, of which he showed me a great deal.
The Duke of Buckingham gave me once a short but severe character
of the two brothers. 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 deter
mined by those whom he trusted : but he was obstinate against all
other advices. He was bred with high notions of kingly authority,
and laid it down for a maxim, that all who opposed the king were
rebels in their hearts. He was perpetually in one amour or other,
without being very nice in his choice : upon which the king once said,
he believed his brother had his mistress given him by his priests for
penance. He was naturally eager and revengeful : and was against
the taking off any, that set up in an opposition to the measures of the
court, and who by that means grew popular in the house of com
mons. He was for rougher methods. He continued many years
dissembling his religion, and seemed zealous for the church of Eng
land, but it was chiefly on design to hinder all propositions, that
tended to unite us among ourselves. 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
understand all the concerns of the sea very particularly."
* Miss Anne Hyde, eldest daughter of Lord Chancellor Clarendon.
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 servauts opposed it. The king at last consented, and
the Duke of York privately married her, and soon after owned the
marriage. Her want of birth was made up by endowments ; and her

'A?-T HXDIE, , ID ttt ,('3-jT/ S g OT Y.DTiK

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 91
whom he had secretly married in Holland. Her father,*
from that time prime minister of England, supported by this
new interest, soon rose to the head of affairs, and had almost
ruined them : not that he wanted capacity, but he was too
seK-sufficient. The Duke of Ormondf possessed the confidence and esteem

carriage afterwards became her acquired dignity." Again. "When
his 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 refused, and dis
suaded him from it, yet at last he opposed it no more; and the duke
married her privately, owned it some time after, and was ever after a
true friend to the chancellor for several years." — Macpherson's State
Papers, vol. i.
* Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, " for his comprehensive know
ledge of mankind, styled the chancellor of human nature. His charac
ter, at this distance of time, may and ought to be impartially considered.
Designing or blinded contemporaries heaped the most unjust abuse upon
him. The subsequent age, when the partisans of prerogative were at
least the loudest, if not the most numerous, smit with a work that
defied then- martyr, have been unbounded in their encomium." — Cata
logue of Noble Authors, vol. ii. p. 18. Lord Orford, 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.
t James Butler, Duke of Ormond, born 19th October, 1610, and died
21st July, 1688. Lord Clarendon, in the Continuation of his Life,
observes, 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
courage and constancy, that when the king was murdered, and he
deserted by the Irish, contrary to the articles of peace which they had

92 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
of his master : the greatness of his services, the splendour 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 grand
steward of the household, first lord of the bed-chamber, and
lord-lieutenant of Ireland. He exactly resembled the Mar
shal de Grammont, in the turn of his wit and the nobleness
of his manners, and like him was the honour of his master's
court.

made with him, and when he could make no longer defence, he refused
all the conditions which Cromwell offered — who would have given him
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
Burnet says of him, " he was a man every way fitted for a court ; of a
graceful appearance, a lively wit, and a cheerful 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 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, in whose
name he had treated with them, was bound to perform all the articles
of the treaty. He had miscarried so in the siege of Dublin, that it
very much lessened the opinion of his military conduct. Yet his con
stant attendance on his master, his easiness to him, and his great suffer
ing for him, raised him to be lord-steward of the household, and lord-
lieutenant of Ireland. He was firm to the Protestant religion, and so
far firm to the laws, that he always gave good advices ; but when bad
ones were followed, he was not for complaining too much of them." —
History of His Own Times, vol. i., p. 230.

""KATKT, ©If -(MX.AiRlEmU) © BT .

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 93
The Duke of Buckingham* and the Earl of St. Albansf were
the same in England as they appeared in France : the one full
of wit and vivacity, dissipated, without splendour, an immense
estate upon which he had just entered : the other, a man of
no great genius, had raised himself a considerable fortune
from nothing, and by losing at play, and keeping a great table,
made it appear greater than it was.
Sir George Berkeley,! afterwards Earl of Falmouth, was the
* " The Duke of Buckingham is again one hundred and forty thou
sand pounds in debt ; and by this prorogation his creditors have time
to tear all his lands to pieces." — Andrew Marvell's Works, 4to. edit.,
vol. i. p. 406.
f Henry Jermyn, Earl of St. Albans, and Baron of St. Edmond'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-chamberlain of his
majesty's household. He died January 2, 1683. Sir John Reresby
asserts that Lord St. Alban's was married to Queen Henrietta. " The
abbess of an English 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
he 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. Madame
Baviere, in her letters, says, " Charles the First's widow made a clandes
tine marriage with her chevalier d'honneur, Lord St. Alban's, who
treated her extremely ill, so that, whilst she had not a faggot to warm
herself, he had in his apartment a good fire and a sumptuous table.
He never gave the queen a kind word, and when she spoke to him he
used to say, Que me veut cettefemme ?" Hamilton hints at his selfish
ness a little lower.
J This Sir George Berkeley, as he is here improperly called, was
Charles Berkley, second son of Sir  Berkley, of Bruton, in Glou
cestershire, and was the principal favourite and companion of the Duke
of York in all his campaigns. He was created Baron Berkley of Rath-
down, and Viscount Fitzharding of Ireland, and Baron Bottetort and
Earl of Falmouth in England, 17th March, 1664. He had the address

94 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
confidant and favourite of the King : he commanded the Duke
of York's regiment of guards, and governed the Duke himself
He had nothing very remarkable either in his wit, or his
person ; but his sentiments were worthy of the fortune which
awaited him, when, on the very point of his elevation, he was
killed at sea. Never did disinterestedness so perfectly cha
racterise the greatness of the soul : he had no views but what

to secure himself in the affections equally of the king and his brother
at the same time. Lord Clarendon, who seems to have conceived, and
with reason, 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 quality, which they did not wish
their best friends without. He was young, and of an insatiable ambi
tion; and a little more experience might have taught him all things which
his weak parts were capable of." — Clarendon's Life, p. 34, 267. Bishop
Burnet, however, is rather more favourable. " Berkley," 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. 137. He lost his life in the action at Southwold Bay, the 2nd June,
1665, by a shot, which, at the same time, killed Lord Muskerry and
Mr. Boyle, as they were standing on the quarter-deck, near the Duke
of York, who was covered with their blood. " Lord Falmouth," as
King James observes, " died not worth a farthing, though not expen
sive." — Macpherson's State Papers, vol. i. "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. Even his death did not save him from Marvell's satire.
Falmouth was there, I know not what to act,
Some say, 'twas to grow duke too by contract j
An untaught bullet, in its wanton scope,
Dashes him all to pieces, and his hope :
Such was his rise, such was his fall unpraised, —
A chance shot sooner took him than chance raised ;
His shattered head the fearless duke disdains,
And gave the last first proof that he had brains.
Advice to a Painter, p. i.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 95
tended to the glory of his master : his credit was never em
ployed but in advising him to reward services, or to confer
favours on merit : so polished in conversation, that the greater
his power, the greater was his humility ; and so sincere 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 Icing's court during his exile, and were far from diminish
ing its lustre after his return. The Earl of Arran* had a sin
gular address in all kinds of exercises, played well at tennis
and on the guitar, and was pretty successful in gallantry : his
* 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 everything suitable to his birth, and the
great affection his parents had for him. As he grew up, he distin
guished himself by a brave and excellent disposition, which determined
him to a military 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 Cloghgrenau, Viscount Tullogh, in the county of Catherlough, and
Earl of Arran, with remainder to his brother. In September, 1664,
he married Lady Mary Stuart, only surviving daughter 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 Kilkenny. He distinguished himself in reducing
the mutineers at Carrick-Fergus, and behaved with great courage in the
famous sea-fight with the Dutch in 1673. In August that year, he was
created Baron Butler of Weston, in the county of Huntingdon. He
married, in the preceding June, Dorothy, daughter of John Ferrars of
Tamworth 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 London, and was interred in Westminster Abbey,
leaving an only daughter, Charlotte, who was married to Charles, Lord
Cornwallis.

96 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAM AWN T.
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,f their 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 for
tune, and procure success in love : he was a most assiduous
* Thomas, Earl of Ossory, eldest son of the first, and father of the
last Duke of Ormond, was born at Kilkenny, 8th July, 1634. At the
age of twenty-one years he had so much distinguished 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 elegantly ; reads Italian fluently ; is a
good historian ; and so well versed in romances, that if a gallery be
full of pictures and hangings, 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 midnight : he is temperate, courteous, and excellent in
all his behaviour." His death was occasioned by a fever, 30th July,
1680, to the grief of his family and the public.
t Lord Orford, in a note on this passage, mentions George Hamilton,
and the author of this present work, as the persons here intended to be
pointed out ; and towards the conclusion of the volume has attempted
to disentangle the confusion occasioned by the want of particularly
distinguishing to which of the gentlemen the several adventures belong
in which their name occurs. The elder Hamilton, however, here de
scribed, was, I conceive, neither George nor Anthony, but James Hamil
ton, their brother, 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. This gentleman was a great favourite of king Charles IL,
who made him a groom of his bedchamber, and colonel 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, soon after he
was brought home, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. George
Hamilton was afterwards knighted, made a count in France, and mare-
chal-du-camp in that service. He married Miss Jennings, hereafter
mentioned, and died, according to Lodge, 1667, leaving issue by her,
three daughter.

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MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 97
courtier, had the most hvely wit, the most pohshed 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 gallantry. It is not at all surprising, that with these
quahties he succeeded my Lord Falmouth in the King's favour ;
but it is very extraordinary that he should have experienced
the same destiny, as if this sort of 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 fortune.
This, however, did not happen till some years afterwards.
The beau Sydney * less dangerous than he appeared to be,
* Eobert 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 in
clined to have considered Henry Sydney, his younger brother, who was
afterwards created Earl of Rumney, and died 8th April, 1704, as the
person intended. There are some circumstances which seem particu
larly to point to him. Burnet, speaking of him, 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. ii., p. 494.
In the Essay on Satire, by Dryden and Mulgrave, he is spoken of
in co very decent terms.
" And little Sid, for simile renown'd,
Pleasure has always sought, but never found :
Though all his thoughts on wine and women fall,
His are 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 :
VOL. L G

98 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
had not sufficient vivacity to support the impression which
his figure made ; but httle Jermyn was on all sides successful
in his intrigues. The old Earl of St. Albans, his uncle, had
for a long time adopted him, though the youngest of ah 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. What we uncharitably take for sin,
Are only rules of this odd capuchin ;
For never hermit, under grave pretence,
Has lived more contrary to common sense."
These verses, however, have been applied to Sir Charles Sedley, whose
name was originally spelt Sidley. Robert Sydney died at Pens-
hurst, 1674.
* To what a miserable state the queen was reduced may be seen in
the following extract from 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 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 anything ; 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 Conde
meant in her letter. What she spoke about was, that some days after
my visiting the Queen of England, I remembered the condition 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. Posterity 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
monstrous than this ; and the little concern I have met with about it
in most people's minds, has obliged me to make, I believe, a thousand

HE'.XKT JERMYBT EAII OT STAIBAS'S

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 99
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 equi
page and magnificence ; and these two articles often produce
as much success in love as real merit : there is no necessity
for any other example than the present ; for though Jermyn
was brave, and certainly a gentleman, yet he had neither bril
liant actions, nor distinguished rank, to set him off; and as
for his figure, there was nothing advantageous in it. He was
little: his head was large and his legs small; his features
were not disagreeable, but he was affected in his carriage and

times, this reflection, — that examples of times past move men beyond
comparison more than those of their own times. We accustom our
selves to what we see ; and I have sometimes told you, that I doubted
whether Caligula's horse being made a consul would have surprised us
so much as we imagine."— Memoirs, vol. i., p. 261. As for the relative
situation of the king and Lord Jermyn, (afterwards St. Albans,) Lord
Clarendon says, that the " Marquis of Ormond was compelled to put
himself in prison, with other gentlemen, at a pistole a-week for his
diet, and to walk the streets a-foot, which was no honourable custom in
Paris, whilst the Lord Jermyn kept an excellent table for those who
courted him, and had a coach of his own, and all other accommodations
incident to the most full fortune : and if the king had the most urgent
occasion for the use but of twenty pistoles, as sometimes he had, he
could not find credit to borrow it, which he often had experiment of."
— History of the Rebellion, vol. iii., p. 2.
* Henry Jermyn, younger son of Thomas, elder brother of the Earl
of St. Albans. He was created Baron Dover in 1685, and died with
out children, at Cheveley, in Cambridgeshire, April 6, 1708. His corpse
was carried to Bruges, in Flanders, and buried iu the monastery of the
Carmelites 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." — St. Evremond' s Works, vol. ii., p. 223.

ioo MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
behaviour. All his wit consisted in expressions 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 Boyal was the first who was taken with him :*
Miss Hyde seemed to he following the steps of her mis
tress : this immediately brought him into credit, and his re
putation was established in England before his arrival. Pre
possession in the minds of women is sufficient to find access
to their hearts : Jermyn found them in dispositions so favour
able 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 weakly sustained : the prejudice
remained: the Countess of Castlemaine,7 a woman hvely
* It was suspected of this princess to have had a similar engagement
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.
t This lady, who makes so distinguished a figure in the annals of
infamy, was Barbara, daughter and heir of William Villiers, Lord Vis
count Grandison, of the kingdom of Ireland, who died in 1642, in
consequence of wounds received at the battle of Edgehill. 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
3'ear of King Charles II. he was created Earl of Castlemaine in the
kingdom of L-eland. She had a daughter, born in February, 1661,
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,
which was supposed to be Mr. Churchill's, afterwards Duke of Marl
borough, 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 Nonsuch, 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,

DUCHESS OF CX.E^TEX.AITD.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. roi
and discerning followed the delusive shadow; and though
undeceived in a reputation which promised so much, and per
formed so little, she nevertheless continued in her infatua
tion : she even persisted in it, 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 anywhere without seeing them : those of
the greatest reputation were this same Countess of Castle-
maine, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland, Lady Chesterfield,
Lady Shrewsbury* the Mrs. Eoberts, Mrs. Middleton, the
and she soon after married a 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 resource to law for her
protection. Fortunately it was discovered that Fielding had already a
wife living, by which means the duchess was enabled to free herself
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
Bays, " she was a woman of great beauty, but most enormously vicious
and ravenous ; foolish, but imperious ; very uneasy to the king, and
always carrying on intrigues with other men, while yet she pretended
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 him
self, nor capable of minding business, which, in so critical a time, re
quired great application. — History of his Own Times, vol. i. p. 129.
* 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 Buckingham, March 16,
1667. She afterwards re-married with George Rodney Bridges, Esq.,
second son of Sir Thomas Bridges of Keynsham, in Somersetshire
knight, and died April'20, 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; after
which she went to bed with him, stained with her husband's blood.

102 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
Misses Brooks* and a thousand others, who shone at court
with equal lustre; but it was Miss Hamilton and Miss
Stewart who were its chief ornaments. The new queen gave
but little additional brilhancy to the court,-f- either in her
person or in her retinue, which was then composed of the
Countess de Pane"tra, who came over with her in quality of
lady of the bedchamber ; six frights, who called themselves
maids of honour, and a duenna, another monster, who took
the title of governess to those extraordinary beauties.
* One of these ladies married Sir John Denham, and is mentioned
hereafter. t Lord Clarendon 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 education : and
they desired, and indeed had conspired so far to possess the queen them
selves, that she should neither learn the English language, nor use their
habit, nor depart from the manners and fashions of her own country in
any particulars : which resolution," they told, " would be for the dignity
of Portugal, and would quickly induce the English ladies to conform to
her majesty's practice. And this imagination had made that impression,
that the tailor who had been sent into Portugal to make her clothes
could never be admitted to see her, or receive any employment. Nor
when she came to Portsmouth, and found there several ladies of honour
and prime quality to attend her in the places to which they were
assigned by the king, did she receive any of them till the king himself
came ; nor then with any grace, or the liberty that belonged to their
places and offices. She could not be persuaded 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 conformed, 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 a short time
after their arrival in England, they were ordered back to Portugal.

&11SS UliOrj'Kli aflci-vK-io-ils iLA.IjT TOUTM f)i|ii

(' AT I1A1N lbv E, of 15HACA3 ZA ,

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 103
Among the men were Francisco de Melo, brother to the
Countess de Paneira; one Taurauvddez, 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 additional name of
Peter of the Wood. He was so enraged at this, that, after
many fruitless complaints and ineffectual menaces, poor Pedro
de Silva was obhged to leave England, while the happy duke
kept possession of a Portuguese nymph more hideous than
the queen's maids of honour, whom he had taken from him,
as well as two of his names. Besides these, there were six
chaplains, four bakers, a Jew perfumer, and a certain officer,
probably without an office, who called himself her highness's
barber. Katharine de Braganza was far from appearing with
splendour in the charming court where she came to reign;
however, in the end she was pretty successful* The Cheva-
* Lord Clarendon 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 humour 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 religious who resided there ; and, without doubt, in her inclina
tions, 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 conversa
tion in a court that was to be upon the matter new formed, and reduced
from the manners of a licentious age to the old rules and limits which
had been observed in better times ; to which regular and decent confoi-
mity the present disposition of men or women was not enough inclined
to submit, nor the king enough disposed to exact."— Continuation vf
Lord Clarendon's Life, p. 167. After some struggle, she submitted to the

104 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
lier 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 wanted no
interpreter : they all spoke French enough to explain them
selves, and they all understood it sufficiently to comprehend
what he had to say to them.
The queen's court was always very numerous ; that of the
duchess was less so, but more select. This princess* 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 grandeur in all her actions made her be con
sidered as if born to support the rank which placed her so
near the throne. The queen dowager returned after the mar
king's licentious conduct, and from that time lived upon easy terms with
him, until his death. On the 30th March, 1692, she left Somerset-house,
her usual residence, and retired to Lisbon, where she died, 31st Decem
ber, 1705, N. S.
* " The Duchess of York," says Bishop Burnet, "was a very extra
ordinary woman. She had great knowledge, and a lively sense of
things. She soon understood what belonged to a princess, and took
state on her rather too much. She wrote well, and had begun the
duke's life, of which she showed me a volume. It was all drawn from
his journal ; and he intended to have employed me in carrying it on.
She was bred in great strictness in religion, and practised secret con
fession. Morley told me he was her confessor. She began at twelve
years old, and continued under his direction till, upon her father's dis
grace, he was put from the court. She was generous and friendly, but
was too severe an enemy." — History of his Own Times, vol. i., p. 237.
She was contracted to the duke at Breda, November 24, 1659, and
married at Worcester-house, 3rd September, 1660, in the night, be
tween eleven and two, by Dr. Joseph Crowther, the duke's chaplain ;
the Lord Ossory giving her in marriage. — Rennet's Register, p. 246.
She died 31st March, 1671, having previously acknowledged herself to
be a Roman Catholic— See also her character by Bishop Morley.—
Rennet's Register, p. 385, 390.

io5 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
who agreeably indemnified them for what they had suffered
from the folly of the former.
He first of all made his court to the king, and was 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
beheve he was out of his own country. Everything which
could agreeably engage a man of his disposition, presented
itself to his different humours, as if the pleasures of the court
of France had quitted it to accompany him in his exile.
He was every day engaged for some entertainment ; and
those who wished to regale him in their turn, were obliged to
take their measures in time, and to invite him eight or ten
days before hand. These importunate civilities became tire
some 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 always reserved to himself the liberty
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 assistance of one or two servants,
who were excellent caterers and good attendants, but under
stood cheating still better.
The company, at these little entertainments, was not nume
rous, but select : 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 : that was the cele
brated Saint Evremond, 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 diffeient
reasons.

- '../¦,..¦.. A

IiikX

,ST.F, v:iUrM'P3 D

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 107
Happily for them both, fortune had, some time before the
arrival of the Chevaher de Grammont, brought Saint Evre
mond* to England, after he had had leisure to repent in Hol
land of the beauties of that famous satire.
* Charles de St. Denis, Seigneur de Saint Evremond, was born at
St. Denis le Guast, in Lower Normandy, on the 1st 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 himself on several occasions. At the time of the Pyrenean
treaty, he wrote a letter censuring the conduct of Cardinal Mazarin,
which occasioned his being banished France. He first took refuge
in Holland; but, in 1662, he removed into England, where he con
tinued, with a short interval, during the rest of his life. In 1675,
the Duchess of Mazarin came to reside in England ; and with her St.
Evremond passed much of his time. He preserved his health and
cheerfulness to a very 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 eyebrows,
a handsome mouth, and a sneering physiognomy. 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 opera
tion should be attended with 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 grey hair, which he chose to wear rather than a peri
wig." St. Evremond was a kind of Epicurean philosopher, and drew
his own character in the following terms, in a letter to Count de Gram
mont. " He was a philosopher equally removed from superstition and
impiety ; a voluptuary who had no less aversion from debauchery than
inclination for pleasure : a man 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 everything, envied by those
who have nothing, 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 con-
veniencies of a long life : when he was old, he could hardly endure
economy, being of opinion that want is little to be dreaded when a man

10S MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
The Chevalier was from that time his hero : they had each
of them attained to all the advantages which a knowledge of
the world, and the society of people of fashion, could add to
the improvement of good natural talents. Saint Evremond,
less engaged in frivolous pursuits, frequently gave httle lec
tures to the Chevalier, and by making observations upon the
past, endeavoured to set him right for the present, or to in
struct him for the future. " You are now," said he, " in the
most agreeable way of hfe a man of your temper could wish
for : you are the dehght of a youthful, sprightly, and gallant
court : the king has never a party of pleasure to wliich 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 brought

has but little time left to be miserable. He was well pleased with
nature, and did not complain of fortune. He hated vice, was indulgent
to frailties, and lamented misfortunes. He sought not after the failings
of men with a design to expose them ; he only found what was ridicu
lous in them for his own amusement : he had a secret pleasure in dis
covering this himself, and would, indeed, have had a still greater in
discovering this to others, had not he been checked by discretion. Life,
in his opinion, was too short to read all sorts of books, and to burden
one's memory with a multitude of things, at the expense of one's judg
ment. He did not apply himself to the most learned writings, in order
to acquire knowledge, but to the most rational, to fortify his reason : he
sometimes chose the most delicate, to give delicacy to his own taste, and
sometimes the most agreeable, to give the same to his own genius. It
remains that he should be described, such as he was, in friendship and
in religion. In friendship he was more constant than a philosopher, and
more sincere than a young man of good nature without experience.
With regard to religion, his piety consisted more in justice and charity
than in penance or mortification. He placed his confidence in God,
trusting in His goodness, and hoping that in the bosom of His provi
dence he should find his repose and his felicity." — He was buried in
Westminster Abbey.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 109
hither, as you have done in other places, you have doubled it,
trebled it, multiplied it almost beyond your wishes, notwith
standing the exorbitant expenses you are imperceptibly led
into. This, without doubt, is the most desirable situation in
the world : stop here, Chevalier, and do not ruin your affairs
by returning 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 matter as yourself.
Play boldly : entertain the court with your wit : divert the
king by your ingenious and entertaining stories ; but avoid all
engagements which can deprive you of this merit, and make
you forget you are a stranger and an exile in this delightful
country. * " Saint Evremond and Bussi-Rabutin, who have also written on the
life of the Count de Grammont, agree with Hamilton in representing
him as a man less fortunate in love than at play ; not seeking for any
other pleasure in the conquest of a woman but that of depriving an
other of her ; and not able to persuade any one of his passion, because
he spoke to her, as at all other times, in jest : but cruelly revenging
himself on those who refused to hear him ; corrupting the servants of
those whom they did favour, counterfeiting their handwriting, inter
cepting their letters, disconcerting their rendezvous ; in one word,
disturbing their amours by everything which a rival, prodigal, in
defatigable, and full of artifice, can be imagined to do. The straitest
ties of blood could not secure any one from his detraction. His
nephew, the Count de Guiche, was a victim : he had in truth, offended
the Count de Grammont, by having supplanted him in the affection of
the Countess de Fiesque, whom he loved afterwards for the space of
twelve years. Here was enough to irritate the self-love of a man less
persuaded of his own merit.''
Hamilton does not describe the exterior of the count, but accuses
Bussi-Babutin of having, iu the following description, given a more
agreeable than faithful portrait of him : " The chevalier had laughing
eyes, a well-formed nose, a beautiful mouth, a small dimple in the chin,
which had an agreeable effect on his countenance, a certain delicacy in
his physiognomy, and a handsome shape, if he had not stooped."

no MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
"Fortune may grow weary of befriending you at play.
What would have become of you, if your last misfortune had
happened to you when your money had been at as low an ebb
as I have known it ? Attend carefully 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
consoles himself for his banishment. I know you well, my
dear Chevalier : if you take it into your head to seduce 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 produc
tive to you 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 thousand splendid qualifications
which distinguish you here: generous, benevolent, elegant,
and polite ; and for your engaging "wit, inimitable. Upon a
strict examination, perhaps, all this would not be found liter
ally true ; but these are brilliant marks ; and since it is granted
that you possess them, do not show 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 httle philosophical monitor," said the Chevalier de
Grammont, " you talk here as if you were the Cato of Nor
mandy." " Do I say anything untrue ?" replied Saint Evre
mond : " 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 ; for the gaining her affec
tion is 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

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. m
which you have passed furnish me with a thousand examples ?
ShaU I mention your coup d'essai at Turin ? the trick you
played at Fontainebleau, where you robbed the Princess Pala
tine's courier upon the highway ? and for what purpose was
this fine exploit, but to put you in possession of some proofs
of her affection for another, in order to give her uneasiness
and confusion by reproaches and menaces, which you had no
right to use ?
" Who but yourself ever took it into his head to place him
self in ambush upon the stairs, to disturb a man in an in
trigue, 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 d'Olonne ?*
How many tricks, frauds, and persecutions, did you not prac
tise for the Countess de Fiesque,t who perhaps might have
* Mademoiselle de la Loupe, who is mentioned in De Retz's Memoirs,
vol iii., 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
History of the Amours 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
Baynier. There is a long character of her by St. Evremond, in his
works, vol. i., p. 17. The same writer, mentioning the concern of some
ladies for the death of the Duke of Candale, says,. " But his true mis
tress (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 the last. One amour is creditable to a lady ; and I know not whether
it be not more advantageous to their reputation than never to have
been in love."— St. Evremond's Works, vol. ii., p. 24.
t This lady seems to have been the wife of Count de Fiesque, who
is mentioned by St. Evremond, as " fruitful in military chimeras ;
who, besides the post of lieutenant-general, which he had at Paris
obtained a particular commission for the beating up of the quarters

ii2 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
been constant to you, if you had not yourself forced her to be
otherwise ? But, to conclude, for the enumeration of your
iniquities would be endless, give me leave to ask you, how
you came here 1 Are not we obhged to that same evil genius
of yours, which rashly inspired you to intermeddle even in
the gallantries of your prince ? Show some discretion then
on this point here, I beseech you ; all the beauties of the
court are already engaged; and however docile the English
may be with respect to their wives, they can by no means
bear the inconstancy of their mistresses, nor patiently suffer
the advantages of a rival : suffer them therefore to remain in
tranquillity, and do not gain their ill-will for no purpose.
" You certainly will meet with no success with such as are
unmarried : honourable views, and good landed property, are
required here ; and you possess as much of the one as the
other. 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 like so many Lu-
cretias : in France, the women are great coquettes before
marriage, and still more so afterwards ; but here it is a miracle
if a young lady yields to any proposal but that of matrimony :
and I do not beheve you yet so destitute of grace as to think
of that."
Such were Saint Evremond's lectures; but they were all
to no purpose : the Chevaher de Grammont only attended to
them for his amusement ; and though he was sensible of the
truth they contained, he paid httle regard to them : in fact,

and other rash and sudden exploits, which maybe resolved upon whilst
one is singing the air of La Barre, or dancing a minuet." — St. Evre
mond's Works, vol. i, p. 6. The count's name occurs very frequently
in De Retz's Memoirs.

AIB.S "AH I .1 ) 1 ) L'K.T O .3T ,

MEMOIRS O* COUNT GRAMMONT. 113
being weary of the favours of fortune, he had just resolved to
pursue those of love.
Mrs. Middleton was the first whom he attacked : she was
one of the handsomest women in town, though then httle
known at court : so much of the 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 expense. All this suited
the Chevaher de Grammont ; therefore, without trifling away
Ms time in useless ceremonies, he apphed to her porter for
admittance, and chose one of her lovers for his confidant.
This lover, who was not deficient in wit, was at that time
a Mr. Jones, afterwards Earl of Eanelagh:* what engaged
him to serve the Chevalier de Grammont, was to traverse the
designs of a most dangerous rival, and to relieve himself from
an expense which began to he too heavy upon him. In both
respects the Chevaher answered his purpose.
Immediately spies were placed, letters and presents flew
about : he was received as well as he could wish : he was per
mitted 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 in making returns. This induced him, without
giving up his pretensions to her, to seek his fortune else
where. Among the queen's maids of honour, there was one called
* Bichard, the first Earl of Ranelagh, was member of the English house
of commons, and vice-treasurer of Ireland, 1674. He held several
offices under King WiEiam and Queen Anne, and died 5th January,
1711. Bishop Burnet says, " Lord 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.
VOL. I. H

ii4 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
Warmestre :* she was a beauty very different from the other.
Mrs. Middletonf was well made, fair, and dehcate ; but had
m her behaviour and discourse something precise and affected.
The indolent languishing airs she gave herself did not please
everybody: people grew weary of those sentiments of deli
cacy, which she endeavoured to explain without understand
ing 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 tire
some, which lasted much longer than her heauty.
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 engage a lover, and promised everything which could
preserve him. In the end, it very plainly appeared that her
* Lord Orford observes, that there is a family of the name of War
minster settled at Worcester, of which five persons are interred in the
cathedral. One of them was dean of the church, and his epitaph
mentions his attachment to the royal family. Miss Warminster, how
ever, was probably 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, under the supposed character of a widow. It was not im
probable 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. 2. 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 Ghamber-
layne's Angliev Notitia, 1669, p. 301.
f Mrs. Jane Middleton, according to Mrs. Granger, was a woman of
small fortune, but great beauty. Her portrait is in the gallery at
Windsor.

MAEY JKITRK, ©thenrwife MISS "WAjK-MTE STEE,

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 115
consent went along with her eyes to the last degree of indis
cretion. It was between these two goddesses that the inclinations of
the Chevalier de Grammont stood wavering, and between
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 this was 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.
* Frances, Duchess of Richmond, daughter of Walter Stewart, son
of Walter, Baron of Blantyre, and wife of Charles Stewart, Duke of
Bichmond and Lennox : a lady of exquisite beauty, if justly repre
sented in a puncheon made by Roettikre, his majesty's engraver of
the mint, in order to strike a medal of her, which exhibits the finest
face that perhaps was ever seen. The king was supposed to be des
perately in love with her ; and it became common 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 with the Duke of Richmond, thereby to prevent 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. Whether he actually encouraged the Duke of Rich
mond's marriage, doth not appear ; but it is certain that he was so
strongly possessed of the king's inclination to a divorce, that, even after
his disgrace, he was persuaded the Duke of Buckingham had under
taken to carry that matter through the parliament. It is certain too
that the king considered him as the chief promoter of Miss Stewart's
marriage, 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 -&, 1667,
it appears that the report of the queen's intended divorce had not
then subsided in her native country. — History of the Revolutions of
Portugal, 1740, p. 352. The duchess became a widow in 1672, and

116 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
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 inclination, whether
from an indiscretion common to all those who think them
selves superior to the rest of mankind, or whether she de
signed, by this pastime, to divert the king's attention from
the commerce which she held 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 invited her
to all the entertainments she made for the king ; and, in con
fidence of her own charms, with the greatest indiscretion, she
often kept her to sleep. The king, who seldom neglected 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 whenever she thought fit, she
could triumph over all the advantages which these opportuni
ties could afford Miss Stewart ; but she was quite mistaken.
The Chevaher de Grammont took notice of this conduct,
without being able to comprehend it ; but, as he was atten
tive 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 showy 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

died October 15, 1702. See Burnet's History, Ludlow's Memoirs, and
Carte's Life of the Duke of Ormond. A figure in wax of this duchess
is still to be seen in Westminster-abbey.

'I'*A .11 Y'V) r,

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 117
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
wliich is so much admired, and which cannot be attained,
unless it be taken when young, in France. While her charms
were gaining ground in the king's heart, the Countess of
Castlemaine amused herself in the gratification of all her
caprices. Mrs. Hyde* was one of the first of the beauties who were
prejudiced with a blind prepossession in favour of Jermyn :
she had just married a man whom she loved : by this mar
riage she became sister-in-law to the duchess, brilliant by her
own native lustre, and full of pleasantry and wit. However,
she was of opinion, that so long as she was not talked of on
account of Jermyn, all her other advantages would avail
nothing for her glory: it was, therefore, to receive this
finishing stroke, that she resolved to throw herself into his
arms. She was of a middle size, had a skin of a dazzling white
ness, fine hands, and a foot surprisingly beautiful, 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 else.
Jermyn accepted of her at first ; but, being soon puzzled
what to do with her, he thought it best to sacrifice 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 consequence in
the end.
* Theodosia, daughter of Arthur, Lord Capel, first wife of Henry
Hyde, the second Earl of Clarendon.

118 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
Jacob Hall (the famous rope-dancer)* was at that time in
vogue in London ; his strength and agihty charmed in pubhc,
even to a wish to know what he was in private ; for he ap
peared, in his tumbling dress, to be quite of a different make,and
to haA'e 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 ap
peared stiU more handsome.
While satire thus found employment at her cost, there were
continual contests for the favours of another beauty, who was
not much more niggardly in that way than herself ; this was
the Countess of Shrewsbury.
The Earl of Arran, who had been one of her first admirers,
was not one of the last to desert her ; this beauty, less famous
for her conquests than for the misfortunes she occasioned,
placed her greatest merits in being more capricious than any
other. As no person could boast of being the only one in her
* " There was a symmetry and elegance, as well as strength and
agility, in the person of Jacob Hall, which was much admired by the
ladies, who regarded him as a due composition of Hercules and Adonis.
The open-hearted Duchess of Cleveland was said to have been in love
with this rope-dancer and Goodman the player at the same time. The
former received a salary from her grace." — Granger, vol. ii, part 2, p.
461. In reference to the connection between the duchess and the rope-
dancer, Mr. Pope introduced the following lines into his " Sober Advice
from Horace :"
" What push'd poor E — — s on th' imperial whore ?
Twas but to be where Charles had been before.
The fatal steel unjustly was apply'd,
When not his lust offended, but his pride :
Too hard a penance for defeated sin,
Himself shut out, and Jacob Hall let in."

,1 AC .0.13 HAjLX,

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 119
favour ; so no person could complain of having been ill re
ceived. 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 attempt which he made to take
her from the rest of her lovers was very ill-advised.
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 passionate. Lady Shrewsbury, inconsider
ately returning the first ogles of the invincible Jermyn, did
not at all make herself more agreeable to Howard ; that, how
ever, she paid httle 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 amusement, called Spring Garden.y was fixed upon
for the scene of this entertainment.
* Thomas Howard, fourth son of Sir William Howard. He married
Mary, Duchess of Richmond, daughter of George Villiers, Duke of
Buckingham, and died 1678. — See Madame Dunois' Memoirs of the
English Court, 8vo., 1708.
t This place appears, from the description of its situation in the
following extract, and in some ancient plans, to have been near Charing-
Cross, probably where houses are now built, though still retaining the
name of gardens. The entertainments usually to be met with there are
thus described by a contemporary writer : " The manner is, as the
company returns, (i.e. from Hyde Park,) to alight at the Spring Garden,
so called in order to the park, as our Tuileries is to the course : the
enclosure not disagreeable, for the solemness of the grove, the warbling
of the birds, and as it opens into the spacious walks at St. James's ;
but the company walk in it at such a rate, you would think all the
ladies were so many Atalantas contending with their wooers ; and, my
lord, there was no appearance that I should prove the Hippomenes, who
could with much ado keep pace with them : but as fast as they run,

i2o' jMEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
As soon as the party was settled, Jermyn was privately
informed of it. Howard had a company in the regiment of
guards, and one of the soldiers of his company played pretty
well on the bagpipes ; this soldier was therefore at the enter
tainment. Jermyn was at the garden, as hy chance; and,
puffed up with his former successes, he trusted to his vic
torious air for accomplishing this last enterprise ; he no sooner
appeared on the walks, than her ladyship showed 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 entertainment 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 ri<hculing the
music. Howard possessed but httle 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

they stay there so long as if they wanted not time to finish the race ;
for it is usual here to find some of the young company till midnight ;
and the thickets of the garden seem to be contrived to all advantages
of gallantry, after they have refreshed with the collation, which is here
seldom omitted, at a certain cabaret, in the middle of this paradise,
where the forbidden fruits are certain trifling tarts, neats' tongues,
salicious meats, and bad Rhenish, for which the gallants pay sauce, as
indeed they do at all such houses throughout England ; for they think
it a piece of frugality beneath them to bar-gain or account for what they
eat in any place, however unreasonably imposed upon." — Character of
England, 12mo., 1659, p. 56, written, it is said, by John Evelyn, Esq.
Spring Garden is the scene of intrigue in many of our comedies of this
period.

1 .©it X TE 8 S ¦0)1' M ILR V. w~;-i Ii VET-

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 121
Impetuosity, in order to satisfy his resentment elsewhere with
greater freedom.
Jermyn, without paying the least attention to his ill-
humour, pursued his point, continued talking to Lady
Shrewsbury, and did not leave her until the repast was ended.
He went to bed, proud of this triumph, and was awakened
next morning by a challenge. He took for his second Giles
Eawlings, 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 Eawlings.
In this duel fortune did not side with the votaries of love :
poor Eawlings was left stone dead ; and Jermyn, having re
ceived three wounds, was carried to his uncle's, with very
little signs of life.
While the report of this event engaged the courtiers accord
ing to their several interests, the Chevaher de Grammont was
informed by Jones, his friend, his confidant, and his rival, that
there was another gentleman very attentive to Mrs. Middle-
ton : this was Montagu* no very dangerous rival on account
of his person, but very much to be feared for his assiduity,
* Ralph Montagu, second son of Edward, Lord Montagu. He was
master of the horse to the queen, and, in 1669, was sent ambassador-
extraordinary to France ; on his return from whence, in January, 1672,
he was sworn of the privy-council. He afterwards became master of
the great wardrobe, and was sent a second time to France. He took a
very decided part in the prosecution of the popish plot, in 1678 ; but on
the sacrifice of his friend, Lord Russell, he retired to Montpelier during
the rest of King Charles's reign. He was active at the Revolution, and
6oon after created Viscount Monthermer, and Earl of Montagu. In
1705 he became Marquis of Monthermer, and Duke of Montagu. He
died 7th March, 1709, in his 73rd year, leaving behind him the charac
ter of a very indulgent parent, a kind and bcuntiful master, a very
hearty friend, a noble patron of m3n of merit, and a true assertor of
English liberty.

122 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
the acuteness 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 Chevaher's vivacity, in point of competition: vexation
awakened in him whatever expedients the desire of revenge,
malice, and experience, could suggest, for troubling the designs
of a rival, and tormenting a mistress. His first intention was
to return her letters, and demand 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 this moment ended ah his
resentment against Mrs. Middleton, and all his attachment 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 succeed he must act quite in a different manner to that
which he had been accustomed to.
The family of the Hamiltons, being very numerous, hved in
a large and commodious house, near the court : the Duke of
Ormond's family was continually with them ; and here persons
of the greatest distinction in London, constantly met : the
Chevaher de Grammont was here received in a manner agree
able 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 agreed that Miss Hamilton* was worthy of
* Elizabeth, sister of the author of these Memoirs, and daughter of
Sir George Hamilton, fourth son of James, the first Earl of Abercorn,

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 123
the most ardent and sincere affection : nobody could boast a
nobler birth, nothing was more charming than her person.

by Mary, third daughter of Thomas, Viscount Thurles, eldest son of
Walter, eleventh Earl of Ormond, and sister to James, the first Duke
of Ormond. She married Philibert, Count of Grammont, the hero of
these Memoirs, by whom she had two daughters : Claude Charlotte,
married, 3rd April, 1694, to Henry, Earl of Stafford ; and another, who
became superior, or abbess, of the Canonesses in Lorraine.

CHAPTEE VII.

jHE Chevaher de Grammont, never satisfied in
his amours, was fortunate without being be
loved, and became jealous without having an
attachment.
Mrs. Middleton, as we have said, was going to experience
what methods he could invent to torment, after having ex
perienced his powers of pleasing.
He went in search of her to the queen's drawing-room,
where there was a ball ; there she was ; but fortunately for
her, Miss Hamilton was there likewise. It had so happened,
that of all the beautiful women at court, this was the lady
whom he had least seen, and whom he had heard most com
mended ; this, therefore, was the first time that he had a close
view of her, and he soon found that he had seen nothing at
court before this instant ; he asked her some questions, to
which she replied ; as long as she was dancing, his eyes were
fixed upon her ; and from this time he no longer resented Mrs.
Middleton's conduct. Miss Hamilton was at the happy age
when the charms of the fair sex begin to bloom ; she had the
finest shape, the loveliest neck, and most beautiful arms in the
world ; she was majestic and graceful in all her movements ;
and she was the original after which all the ladies copied in

MI S ^ 1-LliyiILTfiIT

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 1:5
their taste and air of dress. Her forehead was open, white,
and smooth ; her hair was well set, and fell with ease into that
natural order wliich it is so difficult to imitate. Her com
plexion was possessed of a certain freshness, not to be equal
led by borrowed colours : her eyes were not large, but they
were lively, and capable of expressing whatever she pleased :
her mouth was full of graces, and her contour uncommonly
perfect : nor was her nose, which was small, delicate, and
turned up, the least ornament of so lovely a face. In fine, her
air, her carriage, and the numberless graces dispersed over her
whole person, made the Chevaher de Grammont not doubt
but that she was possessed of every other qualification. Her
mind was a proper companion for such a form : she did not
endeavour to shine in conversation by those sprightly sallies
which only puzzle; and with still greater care she avoided
that affected solemnity in her discourse, which produces
stupidity ; but, without any eagerness to talk, she just said
what she ought, and no more. She had an admirable discern
ment in distinguishing between solid and false wit ; and far
from making an ostentatious display of her abilities, she was
reserved, though very just in her decisions : her sentiments
were always noble, and even lofty to the highest extent, when
there was occasion ; nevertheless, she was less prepossessed
with her own merit than is usually the case with those who
have so much. Formed, as we have described, she could not
fail of commanding love ; but so far was she from courting it,
that she was scrupulously nice with respect to those whose
merit might entitle them to form any pretensions to her.
The more the Chevaher de Grammont was convinced of
these truths, the more did he endeavour to please and engage
her in his turn : his entertaining wit, his conversation, hvely,
easy, and always distinguished by novelty, constantly gained

126 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
him attention ; but he was much embarrassed to find that pre
sents, which so easily made their way in his former method of
courtship, were no longer proper in the mode which, for the
future, he was obliged to pursue.
He had an old valet-de-chambre, called Termes, a bold
thief, and a still more impudent har : he used to send this man
from London every week, on the commissions we have before
mentioned ; but after the disgrace of Mrs. Middleton, and the
adventure of Miss Warmestre, Mr. Termes was only employed
in bringing his master's clothes from Paris, and he did not
always acquit himself with the greatest fidelity in that em
ployment, as will appear hereafter.
The queen was a woman of sense, and used all her endea
vours to please the king, by that kind obhging behaviour
which her affection made natural to her : she was particularly
attentive in promoting every sort of pleasure and amusement
especially such as she could be present at herself.
She had contrived, for this purpose, a splendid masquerade,
where those, whom she appointed to dance, had to represent
different nations; she allowed some time for preparation,
during which we may suppose, the tailors, the mantua-makers,
and embroiderers, were not idle : nor were the beauties, who
were to be there, less anxiously employed; however, Miss
Hamilton found time enough to invent two or three httle
tricks, in a conjuncture so favourable, for turning into ridicule
the vain fools of the court. There were two who were very
eminently such : the one was Lady Muskerry,* who had
* Lady Margaret, only child of TJlick, fifth Earl of Clanricade, by
Lady Anne Compton, daughter of William, Earl of Northampton. She
was three times married : — 1. to Charles, Lord Viscount Muskerry,
who lost his life in the great sea-fight with the Dutch, 3rd June, 1665.
2. In 1676, to Robert Villiers, called Viscount Purbeck, who died in
1685. 3. To Robert Fielding, Esq. She died in August, 1698. Lord

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 127
married her cousin-german ; and the other a maid of honour
to the Duchess, called Blague*
The first, whose husband most assuredly never married her
for beauty, was made like the generahty of rich heiresses, to
whom just nature seems sparing of her gifts, in proportion as
they are loaded with those of fortune : she had the shape of a
woman big with child, without being so ; but had a very good
reason for linrping; for, of two legs uncommonly short, one
was much shorter than the other. A face suitable to this de
scription gave the finishing stroke to this disagreeable figure.
Miss Blague was another species of ridicule : her shape
was neither good nor bad: her countenance bore the ap
pearance of the greatest insipidity, and her complexion was
the same all over ; with two little hollow eyes, adorned with
white eye-lashes, as long as one's finger. With these at
tractions she placed herself in ambuscade to surprise unwary

Orford, by mistake, calls her Elizabeth, daughter of the Earl of Kildare.
— See Note on vol. ii., p. 210,
* It appears, by Chamberlayne's Anglice Notitia, 1669, that this lady,
or perhaps her sister, continued one of the duchess's maids of honour at
that period. The list, at that time, was as follows : — 1. Mrs. Arabella
Churchill. 2. Mrs. Dorothy Howard. 3. Mrs. Anne Ogle. 4. Mrs.
Mary Blague. The mother of the maids then was Mrs. Lucy Wise.
Miss Blague performed the part of Diana, in Crown's Calisto, acted at
court in 1675, and was then styled late maid of honour to the queen.
Lord Orford, however, it should be observed, calls her Henrietta Maria,
daughter of Colonel Blague. It appears she became the wife of Sir
Thomas Yarborough, of Snaith, in Yorkshire. She was also, he says,
sister of the wife of Sydney, Lord Godolphin. That nobleman married,
according to Collins, in his peerage, Margaret, at that time maid of
honour to Katherine, Queen of England, fourth daughter, and one of
the co-heirs of Thomas Blague, Esq., groom of the bedchamber to
Charles I. and Charles IL, colonel of a regiment of foot, and governor
of Wallingford during the civil wars, and governor of Yarmouth and
Languard Fort after the Restoration.

128 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
hearts ; but she might have done so in vain, had it not been
for the arrival of the Marquis de Brisacier. Heaven seemed
to have made them for each other : he had in his person and
manners every requisite to dazzle a creature of her character :
he talked eternaUy, without saying anything, and in his
dress exceeded the most extravagant fashions. Miss Blague
believed that aU this finery was on her account ; and the
Marquis believed that her long eyelashes had never taken
aim at any but himself: everybody perceived their inclina
tion for each other ; but they had only conversed by mute
interpreters, when Miss Hamilton took it into her head to
intermeddle in their affairs.
She was willing to do everything in order, and therefore
began with her cousin Muskerry, on account of her rank.
Her two darling foibles were dress and dancing. Magnifi
cence of dress was intolerable with her figure ; and though
her dancing was stiU more insupportable, she never missed a
baU at court : and the queen had so much complaisance for
the pubhc, as always to make her dance ; but it was impossi
ble to give her a part in an entertainment so important and
splendid as this masquerade: however, she was dying with
impatience for the orders she expected.
It was in consequence of this impatience, of which Miss
Hamilton was informed, that she founded the design of di
verting herself at the expense of this siUy woman. The
queen sent notes to those whom she appointed to be present,
and described the manner in which they were to be dressed.
Miss Hamilton wrote a note exactly in the same manner to
Lady Muskerry, with directions for her to he dressed in the
Babylonian fashion.
She assembled her counsel to advise about the means of
sending it : this cabinet was composed of one of her brothers

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 129
and a sister, who were glad to divert themselves at the ex
pense of those who deserved it. After having consulted some
time, they at last resolved upon a mode of conveying it into
her own hands. Lord Muskerry was just going out, when she
received it: he was a man of honour, rather serious, very
severe, and a mortal enemy to ridicule. His wife's deformity
was not so intolerable to him, as the ridiculous figure she
made upon aU occasions. He thought that he was safe in
the present case, not believing that the queen would spoU her
masquerade by naming Lady Muskerry as one of the dancers ;
nevertheless, as he was acquainted with the passion his wife
had to expose herself in pubhc, by her dress and dancing, he
had just been advising her very seriously to content herself
with being a spectator of this entertainment, even though the
queen should have the cruelty to engage her in it : he then
took the liberty to show her what httle similarity there was
between her figure, and that of persons to whom dancing and
magnificence in dress were aEowable. His sermon concluded
at last, by an express prohibition to sohcit a place at this en
tertainment, which they had no thoughts of giving her ; but
far from taking his advice in good part, she imagined that he
was the only person who had prevented the queen from doing
her an honour she so ardently desired ; and as soon as he was
gone out, her design was to go and throw herself at her Ma
jesty's feet to demand justice. She was in this very dis
position when she received the billet : three times did she
kiss it ; and without regarding her husband's injunctions, she
immediately got into her coach in order to get information of
the merchants who traded to the Levant, in what manner the
ladies of quality dressed in Babylon.
The plot laid for Miss Blague was of a different kind : she
had such faith in her charms, and was so confident of their
VOL. L 1

130 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
effects, that she could beheve anything. Brisacier, whom she
looked upon as desperately smitten, had wit, which he set off
with common-place talk, and with httle sonnets : he sung out
of tune most methodicaUy, and was continually exerting one
or other of these happy talents : the Duke of Buckingham did
all he could to spoil him, by the praises he bestowed both
upon his voice and upon his wit.
Miss Blague, who hardly understood a word of French,
regulated herself upon the Duke's authority, in admiring the
one and the other. It was remarked, that aU the words
which he sung to her were in praise of fair women, and that
always taking this to herself, she cast down her eyes in ac
knowledgment and consciousness. It was upon these obser
vations they resolved to make a jest of her, the first oppor
tunity. While these httle projects were forming, the king, who
always wished to oblige the Chevalier de Grammont, asked
him, if he would make one at the masquerade, on condition
of being Miss Hamilton's partner? He did not pretend to
dance sufficiently weU for an occasion like the present ; yet
he was far from refusing the offer : " Sire," said he, " of aU the
favours you have been pleased to show me, since my arrival,
I feel this more sensibly than any other ; and to convince
you of my gratitude, I promise you aU the good offices in my
power with Miss Stewart." He said this, because they had
just given her an apartment separate from the rest of the
maids of honour, which made the courtiers begin to pay
respect to her. The king was very weU pleased at this
pleasantry, and having thanked him for so necessary an
offer : " Monsieur le Chevalier," said he, " in what style do
you intend to dress yourself for the bah ? I leave you the
choice of aU countries." " If so," said the Chevaher, " I wiU

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 131
dress after the French manner, in order to disguise myself;
for they already do me the honour to take me for an English
man in your city of London. Had it not been for this, I
should have wished to have appeared as a Eoman ; but for
fear of embroiling myself with Prince Eupert,* who so
warmly espouses the interests of Alexander against Lord
Thanet,f who declares himself for Caesar, I dare no longer
think of assuming the hero : nevertheless, though I may
dance awkwardly, yet, by observing the tune, and with a
httle alertness, I hope to come off pretty weU ; besides, Miss
Hamilton wiU take care that too much attention shaU not be
paid to me. As for my dress, I shaU send Termes off to
morrow morning ; and if 1 do not show you at his return the
most splendid habit you have ever seen, look upon mine as
the most disgraced nation in your masquerade."
Termes set out with ample instructions, on the subject of
his journey : and his master, redoubling his impatience on an
occasion like the present, before the courier could be landed,
began to count the minutes in expectation of his return : thus
was he employed until the very eve of the baU ; and that was
* Grandson of James the First, whose actions during the civil wars
are well known. He was born 19th December, 1619, and died at his
house in Spring Gardens, November 22, 1682. Lord Clarendon says of
him, that " he was rough and passionate, and loved not debate : liked
what was proposed, as he liked the persons who proposed it ; and was
so great an enemy to Digby and Colepepper, who were only present in
the debates of the war with the officers, that he crossed all they pro
posed." — History of the Rebellion, vol. ii. 554. He is supposed t!o have
invented the art of mezzotinto. — See Note, post.
t This nobleman, I believe, was John Tufton, second Earl of Thanet,
who died 6th May, 1664. Lord Orford, however, imagines him to have
been Nicholas Tufton, the third Earl of Thanet, his eldest son, who died
24th November, 1679. Both these noblemen suffered much for their
loyalty.

1 32 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
the day that Miss HamUton and her httle society had fixed
for the execution of their project.
Martial gloves were then very much in fashion : she had
by chance several pairs of them : she sent one to Miss Blague,
accompanied with four yards of yellow riband, the palest
she could find, to which she added this note :
" You were the other day more charming than aU the fair
women in the world : you looked yesterday still more fair
than you did the day before : if you go on, what wiU become
of my heart ? But it is a long time since that has been a
prey to your pretty httle young wild boar's eyes* ShaU
you be at the masquerade to-morrow ? But can there be any
charms at an entertainment, at which you are not present ?
It does not signify : I shaU know you in whatever disguise
you may be : but I shaU be better informed of my fate, by
the present I send you : you wiU wear knots of this riband
in your hair ; and these gloves wiU kiss the most beautiful
hands in the universe."
This billet, with the present, was delivered to Miss Blague,
with the same success as the other had been conveyed to
Lady Muskerry. Miss Hamilton had just received an account
of it, when the latter came to pay her a visit : something
seemed to possess her thoughts very much ; when, having
stayed some time, her cousin desired her to walk into her cabi
net. As soon as they were there : " I desire your secrecy for
what I am going to teU you," said Lady Muskerry. " Do not
you wonder what strange creatures men are ? Do not trust
to them, my dear cousin : my Lord Muskerry, who, before our
* Marcassin is French for a wild boar : the eyes of this creature
being remarkably small and lively, from thence the French say, " Des
yeux marcassins," to signify little, though roguish eyes ; or, as we say,
pigs' eyes-

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 133
marriage, could have passed whole days and nights in seeing
me dance, thinks proper now to forbid me dancing, and says
it does not become me. This is not all : he has so often rung
in my ears the subject of this masquerade, that I am obliged to
hide from him the honour the queen has done me, in inviting
me to it. However, I am surprised I am not informed who
is to be my partner : but if you knew what a plague it is, to
find out, in this cursed town, in what manner the people of
Babylon dress, you would pity me for what I have suffered
since the time I have been appointed : besides, the cost which
it puts me to is beyond all imagination."
Here it was that Miss HamUton's inclination to laugh,
which had increased in proportion as she endeavoured to;
suppress it, at length overcame her, and broke out in an im
moderate fit : Lady Muskerry took it in good humour, not
doubting but it was the fantastical conduct of her husband
that she was laughing at. Miss HamUton told her that all
husbands were much the same, and that one ought not to be
concerned at their whims ; that she did not know who was to
be her partner at the masquerade ; but that, as she was named,
the gentleman named with her would certainly not fail to
attend her ; although she could not comprehend why he had
not yet declared himself, unless he likewise had some fantas
tical spouse, who had forbid him to dance.
This conversation being finished, Lady Muskerry went away
in great haste, to endeavour to learn some news of her partner.
Those who were accomphces in the plot were laughing very
heartUy at this visit, when Lord Muskerry paid them one in
his turn, and taking Miss HamUton aside : " Do you know,"
said he, "whether there is to be any baU in the city to
morrow ?" " No," said she ; " but why do you ask ?" " Be
cause," said he, " I am informed that my wife is making great

134 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
preparations of dress. I know very weU she is not to be at
the masquerade : that I have taken care of ; but as the devU
is in her for dancing, I am very much afraid that she wiU be
affording some fresh subject for ridicule, notwithstanding aU
my precautions : however, if it was amongst the citizens, at
some private party, I should not much mind it."
They satisfied him as weU as they could, and having dis
missed him, under pretence of a thousand things they had to
prepare for the next day, Miss HamUton thought herself at
liberty for that morning, when in came Miss Price, one of the
maids of honour to the Duchess* This was just what she
was wishing for : This lady and Miss Blague had been at va
riance some time, on account of Duncan,-)- whom Miss Price had
drawn away from the other ; and hatred stiU subsisted between
these two divinities.
Though the maids of honour were not nominated for the
masquerade, yet they were to assist at it ; and, consequently,
were to neglect nothing to set themselves off to advantage.
Miss HamUton had stiU another pair of gloves of the same
sort as those she had sent to Miss Blague, which she made a
present of to her rival, with a few knots of the same riband,
which appeared to have been made on purpose for her, brown
as she was. Miss Price returned her a thousand thanks, and
* Our author's memory here fails him : Miss Price was maid of honour
to the queen. Mr. Granger says, "there was a Lady Price, a fine
woman, who was daughter of Sir Edmond Warcup, concerning whom
see Wood's Fasti Oxon. ii., 184. Her father had the vanity to think
that Charles II. would marry her, though he had then a queen. There
were letters of his wherein he mentioned, that " his daughter was one
night and t'other with the king, and very graciously received by
him." — History of England, vol. iv., p. 338.
1 1 believe this name should be written Dongan. Lord Orford says,
of this house were the ancient Earls of Limerick.

MISS PBICE

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 135
promised to do herself the honour of wearing them at the ball.
" You wUl oblige me if you do," said Miss HamUton, " but if
you mention that such a trifle as this comes from me, I shaU
never forgive you ; but," continued she, "do not go and rob
poor Miss Blague of the Marquis Brisacier, as you already
have of Duncan : I know very weU that it is whoUy in your
power : you have wit : you speak French : and were he once
to converse with you ever so httle the other could have no pre
tensions to him." This was enough : Miss Blague was only
ridiculous and coquettish : Miss Price was ridiculous, coquet
tish, and something else besides.
The day being come, the court, more splendid than ever,
exhibited aU its magnificence at this masquerade. The com
pany were aU met except the Chevalier de Grammont : every
body was astonished that he should be one of the last at such
a time, as his readiness was so remarkable on every occasion ;
but they were stiU more surprised to see him at length appear
in an ordinary court-dress, which he had worn before. The
thing was preposterous on such an occasion, and very extra
ordinary with respect to him : in vain had he the finest point-
lace, with the largest and best powdered peruke imaginable :
his dress, magnificent enough for any other purpose, was not
at aU proper for this entertainment.
The king immediately took notice of it : " Chevalier," said
he, " Termes is not arrived then ?" " Pardon me, sire," said
he, "God be thanked!" "Why God be thanked?" said the
king ; " has anything happened to him on the road ?" " Sire,"
said the Chevaher de Grammont, " this is the history of my
dress, and of Termes, my messenger." At these words the
baU, ready to begin, was suspended : the dancers making a
circle around the Chevaher de Grammont, he continued his
story in the foUowing manner :

136 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
" It is now two days since this feUow ought to have been
here, according to my orders and his protestations : you may
judge of my impatience aU this day, when I found he did not
come : at last, after I had heartUy cursed him, about an hour
ago he arrived, splashed aU over from head to foot, booted up
to the waist, and looking as if he had been excommunicated :
' Very well, Mr. Scoundrel,' said I, 'this is just hke you, you
must be waited for to the very last minute, and it is a miracle
that you are arrived at aU.' ' Yes, faith,' said he, 'it is a
miracle. You are always grumbling : I had the finest suit in
the world made for you, which the Duke de Guise himself was
at the trouble of ordering.' ' Give it me then, scoundrel,' said
I. ' Sir,' said he, ' if I did not employ a dozen embroiderers
upon it, who did nothing but work day and night, I am a
rascal : I never left them one moment.' ' And where is it
traitor ?' said I : ' do not stand here prating, whUe I should be
dressing.' ' I had,' continued he, ' packed it up, made it tight,
and folded it in such a manner, that aU the rain in the world
could never have been able to reach it ; and I rid post, day
and night, knowing your impatience, and that you were not to
be trifled with.' — ' But where is it V said I. ' Lost, sir,' said
he, clasping his hands. ' How ! lost,' said I, in surprise. ' Yes,
lost, perished, swaUowed up : what can I say more V ' What !
was the packet-boat cast away then V said I. ' Oh ! indeed,
sir, a great deal worse, as you shaU see,' answered he : ' I was
within half a league of Calais yesterday morning, and I was
resolved to go by the sea-side, to make greater haste ; but, in
deed, they say very true, that nothing is hke the highway ;
for I got into a quicksand, where I sunk up to the chin.' 'A
quicksand,' said I, 'near Calais?' 'Yes, sir,' said he, 'and
such a quicksand that, the devU take me, if they saw anything
but the top of my head when they puUed me out : as for my

35 ur r :r-i :k, ,-s a >o t it th >\- .p a 3

s Til

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 137
horse, fifteen men could scarce get him out ; but the portman
teau, where I had unfortunately put your clothes, could never
be found : it must be at least a league under ground.'
" This, sire," continued the Chevalier de Grammont, " is the
adventure, and the relation which this honest gentleman has
given me of it. I should certainly have killed him, but I was
afraid of making Miss HamUton wait, and I was desirous of
giving your Majesty immediate advice of the quicksand, that
your couriers may take care to avoid it."
The Eing was ready to split his sides with laughing, when
the Chevaher de Grammont, resuming the discourse, " apro
pos, sire," said he, " I had forgot to tell you, that, to increase
my iE-humour, I was stopped, as I was getting out of my
chair, by the devU of a phantom in masquerade, who would
by aU means persuade me that the queen had commanded me
to dance with her ; and as I excused myself with the least
rudeness possible, she charged me to find out who was to be
her partner, and desired me to send him to her immediately •
so that your Majesty wiU do weU to give orders about it ; for
she has placed herself in ambush in a coach, to seize upon all
those who pass through WhitehaU. However, I must tell you,
that it is worth whUe to see her dress ; for she must have at
least sixty eUs of gauze and sUver tissue about her, not to
mention a sort of a pyramid upon her head, adorned with a
hundred thousand baubles,"
This last account surprised aU the assembly, except those
who had a share in the plot. The queen assured them, that
aU she had appointed for the baU were present ; and the king,
having paused some minutes : " I bet," said he, " that it is the
Duchess of Newcastle."* "And I," said Lord Muskerry,
* This fantastic lady, as Lord Orford properly calls her, was the
youngest daughter of Sir Charles Lucas, and had been one of the maids

138 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
coming up to Miss Hamilton, " wUl bet it is another fool ; for
I am very much mistaken if it is not my wife."
The king was for sending to know who it was, and to bring
her in : Lord Muskerry offered himself for that service, for the
reason already mentioned ; and it was very weU he did so.
Miss Hamilton was not sorry for this, knowing very weU that
he was not mistaken in his conjecture ; the jest would have
gone much farther than she intended, if the Princess of Baby
lon had appeared in aU her glory.
The baU was not very weU executed, if one maybe aUowed
the expression, so long as they danced only slow dances ; and
yet there were as good dancers, and as beautiful women in this
assembly, as were to be found in the whole world : but as their
number was not great, they left the French, and went to coun
try dances. When they had danced some time, the king
thought fit to introduce his auxiliaries, to give the others a
httle respite ; the queen's and the duchess's maids of honour
were therefore caUed in to dance with the gentlemen.
Then it was that they were at leisure to take notice of Miss
Blague, and they found that the bUlet they had conveyed to
her on the part of Brisacier had its effect : she was more yeUow
than saffron: her hair was stuffed with the citron-coloured
riband, which she had put there out of complaisance ; and, to
of honour to Charles the First's queen, whom she attended when forced
to leave England. At Paris she married the Duke of Newcastle, and
continued in exile with him until the restoration. After her return to
England, she lived entirely devoted to letters, and published many
volumes of plays, poems, letters, &c. She died in 1673, and was buried
in Westminster Abbey. Lord Orford says, there is a whole length of
this duchess at Welbeck, in a theatrical dress, which, tradition says, she
generally wore. She had always a maid of honour in waiting during
the night, who was often called up to register the duchess's conceptions.
These were all of a literary kind ; for her grace left no children.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 139
inform Brisacier of his fate, she raised often to her head her
victorious hands, adorned with the gloves we have before men
tioned : but, if they were surprised to see her in a head-dress
that made her look more wan than ever, she was very differ
ently surprised to see Miss Price partake with her in every
particular of Brisacier's present : her surprise soon turned to
jealousy ; for her rival had not faUed to join in conversation
with him, on account of what had been insinuated to her the
evening before ; nor did Brisacier faU to return her first ad
vances, without paying the least attention to the fair Blague,
nor to the signs which she was tormenting herself to make
him, to inform him of his happy destiny.
Miss Price was short and thick, and consequently no dancer,
the Duke of Buckingham, who brought Brisacier forward as
often as he could, came to desire him, on the part of the king,
to dance with Miss Blague, without knowing what was then
passing in this nymph's heart : Brisacier excused himself, on
account of the contempt that he had for country dances:
Miss Blague thought that it was herself that he despised ; and,
seeing that he was engaged in conversation with her mortal
enemy, she began to dance, without knowing what she was
doing. Though her indignation and jealousy were sufficiently
remarkable to divert the court, none but Miss HamUton and
her accomplices, understood the joke perfectly : their pleasure
was quite complete ; for Lord Muskerry returned, stiU more
confounded at the vision, of which the Chevaher de Grammont
had given the description. He acquainted Miss HamUton,
that it was Lady Muskerry herself, a thousand times more
ridiculous than she had ever been before, and that he had had
an immense trouble to get her home, and place a sentry at her
chamber door.
The reader may think, perhaps, that we have dwelt too long

140 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
on these trifling incidents ; perhaps he may be right. We
wiU therefore pass to others.
Everything favoured the Chevaher de Grammont in the
new passion which he entertained : he was not, however,
without rivals ; but, what is a great deal more extraordinary, he
was without uneasiness : he was acquainted with their under
standings, and no stranger to Miss HamUton's way of thinking.
Among her lovers, the most considerable, though the least
professedly so, was the Duke of York : it was in vain for him
to conceal it, the court was too weU acquainted with his cha
racter to doubt of his inclinations for her. He did not think
it proper to declare such sentiments as were not fit for Miss
HamUton to hear ; but he talked to her as much as he could,
and ogled her with great assiduity. As hunting was his
favourite diversion, that sport employed him one part of the
day, and he came home generaUy much fatigued ; but Miss
Hamilton's presence revived him, when he found her either
with the queen or the duchess. There it was that, not daring
to teU her of what lay heavy on his heart, he entertained
her with what he had in his head : telling her miracles of the
cunning of foxes and the mettle of horses ; giving her accounts
of broken legs and arms, dislocated shoulders, and other
curious and entertaining adventures ; after which, his eyes
told her the rest, tiU such time as sleep interrupted their con
versation; for these tender interpreters could not help some
times composing themselves in the midst of their ogling.
The duchess was not at all alarmed at a passion which her
rival was far from thinking sincere, and with which she used
to divert herself, as far as respect would admit her ; on the
contrary, as her highness had an affection and esteem for Miss
Hamilton, she never treated her more graciously than on the
present occasion.

LOUD -Wi I, I., i. a Itf TR ]r 5 S E jL ,

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 141
The two Eussells, uncle* and nephew.f were two other of
the Chevalier de Grammont's rivals : the uncle was full
seventy, and had distinguished himself by his courage and
fidehty in the civU wars. His passions and intentions, with
regard to Miss Hamilton, appeared both at once ; but his
magnificence only appeared by halves in those gallantries
wliich love inspires. It was not long since the fashion of high
crowned hats had been left off, in order to faU into the other
extreme. Old EusseU, amazed at so terrible a change, resolved
to keep a medium, which made him remarkable : he was stUl
more so, by his constancy for cut doublets, which he supported
a long time after they had been universally suppressed ; but,
what was more surprising than aU, was a certain mixture of
avarice and liberality, constantly at war with each other, ever
since he had entered the list with love.
His nephew was only of a younger brother's farnUy, but
was considered as his uncle's heir ; and though he was under
the necessity of attending to his uncle for an estabhshment,
and still more so of humouring him, in order to get his estate,
he could not avoid his fate. Mrs, Middleton showed him a
sufficient degree of preference; but her favours could not
secure him from the charms of Miss Hamilton : his person
would have had nothing disagreeable in it, if he had but left
it to nature ; but he was formal in aU his actions, and silent
even to stupidity ; and yet rather more tiresome when he did
speak. The Chevaher de Grammont, very much at his ease in all
* Russell, third son of Francis, the fourth Earl of Bedford, and
colonel of the first regiment of foot guards. He died unmarried, in
November, 1681.
t William, eldest son of Edward Russell, younger brother of the above
John Russel. He was standard-bearer to Charles IL. and died un
married, 1674. He was elder brother to Russell, Earl of Orford.

i42 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
these competitions, engaged himself more and more in his
passion, without forming other designs, or conceiving other
hopes, than to render himself agreeable. Though his passion
was openly declared, no person at court regarded it otherwise
than as a habit of gaUantry, which goes no farther than to do
justice to merit.
His monitor, Saint Evremond, was quite of a different
opinion; and finding, that, besides an immense increase of
magnificence and assiduity, he regretted those hours which
he bestowed on play; that he no longer sought after those
long and agreeable conversations they used to have together ;
and that this new attachment everywhere robbed him of
himself: "Monsieur le Chevalier," said he, "methinks that for some
time you have left the town beauties and their lovers in per
fect repose : Mrs. Middleton makes fresh conquests with im
punity, and wears your presents, under your nose, without
your taking the smaUest notice. Poor Miss Warmestre has
been very quietly brought to bed in the midst of the court,
without your having even said a word about it. I foresaw it
plain enough, Monsieur le Chevaher, you have got acquainted
with Miss HamUton, and, what has never before happened to
you, you are reaUy in love ; but let us consider a httle what
may be the consequence. In the first place, then, I beheve,
you have not the least intention of seducing her : such is her
birth and merit, that if you were in possession of the estate
and title of your family, it might be excusable in you to offer
yourself upon honourable terms, however ridiculous marriage
may be in general ; for, if you only wish for wit, prudence, and
the treasures of beauty, you could not pay your addresses to
a more proper person : but for you, who possess only a very
moderate share of those of fortune, you cannot pay your
addresses more improperly.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 143
"For your brother Toulongeon, whose disposition I am
acquainted with, wiU not have the complaisance to die, to
favour your pretensions : but suppose you had a competent
fortune for you both — and that is supposing a good deal — are
you acquainted with the dehcacy, not to say capriciousness,
of this fair one about such an engagement ? Do you know
that she has had the choice of the best matches in England ?
The Duke of Eichmond paid his addresses to her first ; but
though he was in love with her, stiU he was mercenary : how
ever, the king, observing that want of fortune was the only
impediment to the match, took that article upon himself, out
of regard to the Duke of Ormond, to the merit and birth of
Miss HamUton, and to her father's services ; but, resenting
that a man, who pretended to be in love, should bargain like
a merchant, and likewise reflecting upon his character in the
world, she did not think that being Duchess of Eichmond was
a sufficient recompense for the danger that was to be feared
from a brute and a debauchee.
" Has not httle Jermyn, notwithstanding his uncle's great
estate, and his own brilliant reputation, faUed in his suit to
her ? And has she ever so much as vouchsafed to look at
Henry Howard* who is upon the point of being the first duke
in England, and who is already in actual possession of aU the
estates of the house of Norfolk ? I confess that he is a clown,
but what other lady in all England would not have dispensed
with his stupidity and his disagreeable person, to be the first
duchess in the kingdom, with twenty-five thousand a year?
* This was Henry Howard, brother to Thomas, Earl of Arundel, who
by a special act of parliament, in 1664, was restored to the honours of
the family, forfeited by the attainder of his ancestor, in the time of
Queen Elizabeth. On the death of his brother, in 1667, he became
Duke of Norfolk, and died January 11, 1683-4, at his house in Arundel
Street, aged 55.

144 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
" To conclude, Lord Falmouth has told me himself, that he
has always looked upon her as the only acquisition wanting
to complete his happiness : but, that even at the height of the
splendour of his fortune, he never had had the assurance to
open his sentiments to her ; that he either felt in himself too
much weakness, or too much pride, to be satisfied with obtain
ing her solely by the persuasion of her relations ; and that,
though the first refusals of the fair on such occasions are not
much minded, he knew with what an air she had received the
addresses of those whose persons she did not like. After this,
Monsieur le Chevaher, consider what method you intend to
pursue : for, if you are in love, the passion wUl stiU increase,
and the greater the attachment, the less capable wUl you be
of making those serious reflections that are now in your
power." " My poor philosopher," answered the Chevaher de Gram
mont, " you understand Latin very weU, you can make good
verses, you understand the course, and are acquainted with
the nature of the stars in the firmament ; but, as for the lu
minaries of the terrestrial globe, you are utterly unacquainted
with them : you have told me nothing about Miss HamUton,
hut what the king told me three days ago. That she has
refused the savages you have mentioned is aU in her favour :
if she had admitted their addresses, I would have had nothing
to say to her, though I love her to distraction. Attend now
to what I am going to say : I am resolved to marry her, and I
wUl have my tutor Saint Evremond himself to be the first
man to commend me for it. As for an establishment, I shaU
make my peace with the king, and wUl solicit liim to make
her one of the ladies of the bed-chamber to the queen : this he
wUl grant me. Toulongeon wUl die, without my assistance*
* Count de Toulongeon was elder brother to Count Grammont, who,

am
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... '. :;/-

MISS STiKVART, a-fter-waT-la X^f'HJE S§ OIF "KICHMOiyD.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 145
and notwithstanding aU his care ; and Miss HamUton will have
Semeat,* with the Chevaher de Grammont, as an indemni
fication for the Norfolks and Eichmonds. Now, have you any
thing to advance against this project? For I wiU bet you
an hundred louis, that everything wUl happen as I have fore
told it."
At this time the king's attachment to Miss Stewart was so
pubhc, that every person perceived, that if she was but pos
sessed of art, she might become as absolute a mistress over his
conduct as she was over his heart. This was a fine opportu
nity for those who had experience and ambition. The Duke
of Buckingham formed the design of governing her, in order
to ingratiate himself with the king : God knows. what a go
vernor he would have been, and what a head he was possessed
of, to guide another ; however, he was the properest man in
the world to insinuate himself with Miss Stewart : she was
cluldish in her behaviour, and laughed at everything, and her
taste for frivolous amusements, though unaffected, was only
aUowable in a girl about twelve or thirteen years old. A
chUd, however, she was, in every other respect, except playing
with a doU : blind man's buff was her most favourite amuse
ment: she was bunding castles of cards, whUe the deepest
play was going on in her apartments, where you saw her sur
rounded by eager courtiers, who handed her the cards, or
young architects, who endeavoured to imitate her.
She had, however, a passion for music, and had some taste
for singing. The Duke of Buckingham, who buUt the finest
towers of cards imaginable, had an agreeable voice : she had
by his death, in 1679, became, according to St. Evremond, on that
event, one of the richest noblemen at court. — See St. Evremond' s Works,
vol. ii., p. 327.
* A country seat belonging to the family of the Grammonts.
VOL. I. K

146 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
no aversion to scandal : and the duke was both the father and
the mother of scandal, he made songs, and invented old women's
stories, with which she was delighted ; but his particular talent
consisted in turning into ridicule whatever was ridiculous in
other people, and in taking them off, even in their presence,
without their perceiving it : in short, he knew how to act aU
parts with so much grace and pleasantry, that it was difficult
to do without him, when he had a mind to make himself
agreeable ; and he made himseE so necessary to Miss Stewart's
amusement, that she sent aU over the town to seek for him,
when he did not attend the king to her apartments.
He was extremely handsome,* and stiU thought himself
* George Villiers, the second Duke of Buckingham, was born 30th
January, 1627. Lord Orford observes, " When this extraordinary man,
with the figure and genius of Alcibiades, could equally charm the
presbyterian Fairfax and the dissolute Charles ; when he alike ridi
culed that witty king and his solemn chancellor : when he plotted the
ruin of his country with a cabal of bad ministers, or, equally unprin
cipled, supported its cause with bad patriots, — one laments that such
parts should have been devoid of every virtue : but when Alcibiades
turns chemist ; when he is a real bubble and a visionary miser ; when
ambition is but a frolic ; when the worst designs are for the foolishest
ends, — contempt extinguishes all reflection on his character."
" The portrait of this duke has been drawn by four masterly hands.
Burnet has hewn it out with his rough chisel ; Count Hamilton touched
it with that slight delicacy that finishes while it seems but to sketch ;
Dryden caught the living likeness ; Pope completed the historical
resemblance." — Royal Authors, vol. ii., p. 78.
Of these four portraits, the second is in the text ; the other three will
complete the character of this extraordinary nobleman.
Bishop Burnet says, he " was a man of noble presence. He had a
great liveliness of wit, and a peculiar faculty of turning all things into
ridicule, with bold figures, and natural descriptions. He had no sort
of literature, only he was drawn into chemistry ; and for some years
he thought he was very near the finding the philosopher's stone, which
had the effect that attends on all such men as he was, when they
are drawn in, to lay out for it. He had no principles of religion.

at> tit" ik if, o ie' :r, i' c ii 1 it g :n a.i il

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 147
much more so than he reaUy was : although he had a great deal
of discernment, yet his vanity made him mistake some civUities

virtue, or friendship : — pleasure, frolic, or extravagant diversion was
all that he laid to heart. He was true to nothing ; for he was not true
to himself. He had no steadiness nor conduct : he could keep no
secret, nor execute any design without spoiling it. He could never fix
his thoughts, nor govern his estate, though then the greatest in England.
He was bred about the king, and for many years he had a great ascend
ency over him ; but he spake of him to all persons with that contempt,
that at last he drew a lasting disgrace upon himself. And he at length
ruined both body and mind, fortune and reputation equally. The mad
ness of vice appeared in his person in very eminent instances ; since at
last he became contemptible and poor, sickly, and sunk in his parts, as
well as in all other respects ; so that his conversation was as much
avoided as ever it had been courted." — History of His Own Times,
vol. i., p. 137.
Dryden's character of him is in these limes :
" In the first rank of these did Zimri stand ;
A man so various, that he seem'd to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome :
Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong ;
Was everything by starts, and nothing long.
But, in the course of one revolving moon,
Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ;
Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking,
Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Blest madman, who could every hour employ
With something new to wish or to enjoy !
Railing and praising were his usual themes,
And both, to show his judgment, in extremes;
So over violent, or over civil,
That every man with him was god or devil.
In squandering wealth was his peculiar art ;
Nothing went unrewarded but desert.
Beggar'd by fools, whom still he found too late ;
He had his jest, and they had his estate :
He laugh'd himself from court, then sought relief
By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief j

iSo MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
Lord Arlington* took up the project which the Duke of
Buckingham had abandoned, and endeavoured to gain posses
sion of the mind of the mistress, in order to govern the master.
A man of greater merit and higher birth than himself might,
however, have been satisfied with the fortune he had already
acquired. His first negotiations were during the treaty of the
Pyrenees : and though he was unsuccessful in his proceedings
for his employer, yet he did not altogether lose his time ; for
he perfectly acquired, in his exterior, the serious air and pro
found gravity of the Spaniards, and imitated pretty weU their
tardiness in business : he had a scar across his nose, which
was covered by a long patch, or rather by a smaU plaister, in
form of a lozenge.
Scars in the face commonly give a man a certain fierce and
* Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington, principal secretary of state, and
lord-chamberlain to King Charles II : a nobleman whose practices,
during that reign, have not left his character free from reproach. Mr.
Macpherson says of him, that he " supplied the place of extensive
talents by an artful management of such as he possessed. Accom
modating in his principles, and easy in his address, he pleased when
he was known to deceive ; and his manner acquired to him a kind of
influence where he commanded no respect. He was little calculated
for bold measures, on account of his natural timidity ; and that defect
created an opinion of his moderation, that was ascribed to virtue. His
facility to adopt new measures was forgotten in his readiness to acknow
ledge the errors of the old. The deficiency of his integrity was for
given in the decency of his dishonesty. Too weak not to be super
stitious, yet possessing too much sense to own his adherence to the church
of Rome, he lived a protestant in his outward profession, but he died
a catholic. Timidity was the chief characteristic of his mind ; and
that being known, he was even commanded by cowards. He was the
man of the least genius of the party : but he had most experience in
that slow and constant current of business, which, perhaps, suits affairs
of state better than the violent exertions of men of great parts."—
Original Papers, vol. i. Lord Arlington died July 28, 1685. See a
character of him in Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham's Works.

"IFAAIEAL ¦tfi.F AAFll.lI^'13-TO.I^.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 151
martial air, which sets him off to advantage ; hut it was quite
the contrary with him, and this remarkable plaister so weU
suited his mysterious looks, that it seemed an addition to his
gravity and self-sufficiency.
Arlington, under the mask of this compound countenance
where great earnestness passed for business, and impenetrable
stupidity for secrecy, had given himself the character of a great
pohtician ; and no one having leisure to examine him, he was
taken at his word, and had been made minister and secretary
of state, upon the credit of his own importance.
His ambition soaring stUl above these high stations, after
having provided himself with a great number of fine maxims,
and some historical anecdotes, he obtained an audience of Miss
Stewart, in order to display them ; at the same time offering
her his most humble services, and best advice, to assist her in
conducting herself in the situation to which it had pleased God
and her virtue to raise her. But he was only in the preface
of his speech, when she recoUected that he was at the head of
those whom the Duke of Buckingham used to mimic ; and as
his presence and his language exactly revived the ridiculous
ideas that had been given her of him, she could not forbear
'bursting out into a fit of laughter in his face, so much the
more violent as she had for a long time struggled to sup
press it.
The minister was enraged : his pride became his post, and
his punctilious behaviour merited aU the ridicule which could
be attached to it : he quitted her abruptly, with aU the fine
advice he had prepared for her, and was almost tempted to
carry it to Lady Castlemaine, and to unite himseE with her
interests ; or immediately to quit the court party, and declaim
freely in parliament against the grievances of the state, and
particularly to propose an act to forbid the keeping of mis-

iS2 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
tresses ; hut his prudence conquered his resentments ; and
thinking only how to enjoy with pleasure the blessings of
fortune, he sent to HoUand for a wife,* in order to complete
his fehcity.
HamUton was, of aU the courtiers, the best qualified to
succeed in an enterprise, in which the Duke of Buckingham
and Lord Arlington had miscarried: he was thinking upon
it; but his natural coquetry traversed his intentions, and
made him neglect the most advantageous prospects in the
world, in order unnecessarily to attend to the advances and
allurements thrown out to him by the Countess of Chester
field. This was one of the most agreeable women in the
world : she had a most exquisite shape, though she was not
very taU; her complexion was extremely fair, with aU the
expressive charms of a brunette; she had large blue eyes,
very tempting and aUuring ; her manners were engaging ; her
wit Evely and amusing ; but her heart, ever open to tender
sentiments, was neither scrupulous in point of constancy, nor
nice in point of sincerity. She was daughter to the Duke of
Ormond,-J- and HamUton, being her cousin-german, they might
be as much as they pleased in each other's company without
being particular ; but as soon as her eyes gave him some en
couragement, he entertained no other thoughts than how to
* This lady was Isabella, daughter to Lewis de Nassau, Lord
Beverwaert, son to Maurice, Prince of Orange, and Count Nassau.
By her, Lord Arlington had an only daughter, named Isabella, who
married, August 1, 1672, Henry, Earl of Euston, son to King Charles
IL, by Barbara, Duchess of Cleveland, created afterwards Duke of
Grafton ; and, after his death, to Sir Thomas Hanmer, Bart. She
assisted at the coronation of King George I., as Countess of Arlington,
in her own right, and died February 7, 1722-3.
t And second wife of the Earl of Chesterfield. She survived the
adventures here related a very short time, dying in July, 1665, at the
age of 25 years.

¦r to u i>' tie, a; s ¦roui' '('3;-i3iST':E,iinpi:ig,iLXD

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 153
please her, without considering her fickleness, or the obstacles
he had to encounter. His intention, which we mentioned
before, of establishing himself in the confidence of Miss
Stewart, no longer occupied his thoughts: she now was of
opinion that she was capable of being the mistress of her own
conduct : she had done aU that was necessary to inflame the
king's passions, without exposing her virtue by granting the
last favours ; but the eagerness of a passionate lover, blessed
with favourable opportunities, is difficult to withstand, and
stiU more difficult to vanquish; and Miss Stewart's virtue
was almost exhausted, when the queen was attacked with a
violent fever, wliich soon reduced her to extreme danger.
Then it was that Miss Stewart was greatly pleased with
herself for the resistance she had made, though she had paid
dearly for it: a thousand flattering hopes of greatness and
glory fiUed her heart, and the additional respect that was
universaUy paid her, contributed not a httle to increase them.
The queen was given over by her physicians :* the few Por
tuguese women that had not been sent back to their own
country fiUed the court with doleful cries; and the good
nature of the king was much affected with the situation in
which he saw a princess, whom, though he did not love her,
yet he greatly esteemed. She loved him tenderly, and think
ing that it was the last time she should ever speak to him,
* This happened in October, 1663. Lord Arlington, in a letter to
the Duke of Ormond, dated the 17th of that month, says, " the con
dition of the queen is much worse, and the physicians give us but little
hopes of her recovery ; by the next you will hear she is either in a
fair way to it, or dead : to-morrow is a very critical day with her :
God's will be done. The king coming to see her this morning, she
told him she willingly left all the world but him ; which hath very
much afflicted his majesty, and all the court with him." — Brown's
Miscellanea Aulica, 1702, p. 306.

154 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
she told him, that the concern he showed for her death, was
enough to make her quit hfe with regret ; but that not pos
sessing charms sufficient to merit his tenderness, she had at
least the consolation in dying to give place to a consort who
might be more worthy of it, and to whom heaven, perhaps,
might grant a blessing that had been refused to her. At
these words, she bathed his hands with some tears, which he
thought would be her last : he mingled his own with hers ;
and without supposing she would take him at his word, he
conjured her to live for his sake. She had never yet dis
obeyed him ; and, however dangerous sudden impulses may
be, when one is between life and death, this transport of joy,
which might have proved fatal to her, saved her life, and the
king's wonderful tenderness had an effect, for which every
person did not thank heaven in the same manner.
Jermyn had now for some time been recovered of his
wounds : however, Lady Castlemaine, finding his health in as
deplorable a condition as ever, resolved to regain the king's
heart, but in vain: for notwithstanding the softness of her
tears, and the violence of her passions, Miss Stewart whoUy
possessed it. During this period the court was variously en
tertained: sometimes there were promenades, and at others
the court beauties sallied out on horseback, and to make
attacks with their charms and graces, sometimes successfuUy,
sometimes otherwise, but always to the best of then abilities :
at other seasons there were such shows on the river, as the
city of London alone can afford.
The Thames washes the sides of a large though not a mag
nificent palace of the kings of Great Britain :* from the stairs
of this palace the court used to take water, in the summer
* This was Whitehall, which was burnt down, except the banquet-
ing-house, 4th January, 1698.— See Harleian Miscellany, vol. vi. p. 367.

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 155
evenings, when the heat and dust prevented their walking in
the park : an infinite number of open boats, filled with the
court and city "beauties, attended the barges, in which were
the Eoyal FamUy : collations, music, and fireworks, completed
the scene. The Chevalier de Grammont always made one of
the company, and it was very seldom that he did not add
something of his own invention, agreeably to surprise by
some unexpected stroke of magnificence and gallantry. Some
times he had complete concerts of vocal and instrumental
music, which he privately brought from Paris, and which
struck up on a sudden in the midst of these parties ; some
times he gave banquets, which hkewise came from France,
and which, even in the midst of London, surpassed the king's
coUations. These entertainments sometimes exceeded, as
others fell short of his expectations, but they always cost
him an immense deal of money.
Lord Falmouth was one of those who had the greatest
friendship and esteem for the Chevalier de Grammont: this
profusion gave him concern, and as he often used to go and
sup with him without ceremony, one day finding only Saint
Evremond there, and a supper fit for half a dozen guests, who
had been invited in form : " You must not," said he, address
ing himself to the Chevalier de Grammont, " be obliged to me
for this visit. I come from the king's coucher, where aU the
discourse was about you; and I can assure you that the
manner in which the king spoke of you, could not afford you
so much pleasure as I myself felt upon the occasion. You
know very weU, that he has long since offered you his good
offices with the Eing of France ; and for my own part," con
tinued he, smiling, " you know very weU that I would solicit
him so to do, if it was not through fear of losing you as soon
as your peace is made ; but, thanks to Miss HamUton, you

156 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
are in no great haste : however, I am ordered by the king,
my master, to acquaint you, that while you remain here,
until you are restored to the favour of your sovereign, he
presents you with a pension of fifteen hundred Jacobus's : it
is indeed a trifle, considering the figure the Chevaher de
Grammont makes among us ; but it wiE assist him," said he,
embracing him, " to give us sometimes a supper."
The Chevaher de Grammont received, as he ought, the
offer of a favour he did not think proper to accept : " I ac
knowledge,"- said he, " the king's bounty in this proposal, but
I am stiU more sensible of Lord Falmouth's generosity in it ;
and I request him to assure his Majesty of my perfect grati
tude : the king, my master, wiU not suffer me to want, when
he thinks fit to recall me ; and while I continue here, I wUl
let you see that I have wherewithal to give my Enghsh friends
now and then a supper."
At these words, he caUed for his strong box, and showed
him seven or eight thousand guineas in solid gold. Lord
Falmouth, willing to improve to the Chevaher's advantage
the refusal of so advantageous an offer, gave Monsieur de
Comminge,* then amhassador at the English court, an account
of it ; nor did Monsieur de Comminge faU to represent pro
perly the merit of such a refusal to the French court.
Hyde Park, every one knows, is the promenade of London :y
* This gentleman was ambassador in London, from the court of
France, during the years 1663, 1664, and 1665. Lord Clarendon,
speaking of him, describes him as something capricious in his nature,
which made him hard to treat with, and not always vacant at the
hours himself assigned ; being hypochondriac, and seldom sleeping
without opium. — Continuation of Clarendon's Life, p. 263.
t The writer already quoted gives this description of the entertain
ments of the place, at this period : —
" I did frequently, in the spring, accompany my lord N  into a

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 157
nothing was so much in fashion, during the fine weather, as
that promenade, which was the rendezvous of magnificence
and beauty : every one, therefore, who had either sparkling
eyes, or a splendid equipage, constantly repaired thither ; and
the king seemed pleased with the place.
Coaches with glasses* were then a late invention : the
ladies were afraid of being shut up in them : they greatly
preferred the pleasure of showing almost their whole persons,
to the conveniences of modern coaches : that which was made

field near the town, which they call Hyde Park ; the place is not un
pleasant, and which they use as our course ; but with nothing of that
order, equipage, and splendour; being such an assembly of wretched jades,
and hackney coaches, as, next a regiment of carmen, there is nothing
approaches the resemblance. This park was (it seems) used by the late
king and nobility for the freshness of the air, and the goodly prospect ;
but it is that which now (besides all other excises) they pay for here,
in England, though it be free in all the world besides; every coach
and horse which enters buying his mouthful, and permission of the
publican who has purchased it; for which the entrance is guarded
with porters and long staves." — A Character of England, as it was lately
presented to a Nobleman of France, 12mo, 1659, p. 54.
* Coaches were first introduced into England in the year 1564.
Taylor, the water poet, (Works, 1630, p. 240,) says, — "One William
Boonen, a Dutchman, brought first the use of coaches hither ; and the
said Boonen was Queen Elizabeth's coachman ; for, indeed, a coach was
a strange monster in those days, and the sight of them put both horse
and man into amazement." Dr. Percy observes, they were first drawn
by two horses, and that it was the favourite Buckingham, who, about
1619, began to draw with six horses. About the same time, he intro
duced the sedan. The Ultimum Vale of John Carleton, 4to, 1663,
p. 23, will, in a great measure, ascertain the time of the introduction of
glass coaches. He says, " I could wish her (i. e. Mary Carleton's) eoach
(which she said my lord Taff bought for her in England, and sent it
over to her, made of the new fashion, vyith glasse, very stately ; and
her pages and lacquies were of the same livery,) was come for
me," &c.

158 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
for the king not being remarkable for its elegance, the Cheva
her de Grammont was of opinion that something ingenious
might be invented, which should partake of the ancient
fashion, and hkewise prove preferable to the modern; he
therefore sent away Termes privately with all the necessary
instructions to Paris : the Duke of Guise was likewise charged
with this commission ; and the courier, having by the favour
of Providence escaped the quicksand, in a month's time
brought safely over to England the most elegant and mag
nificent calash that had ever been seen, which the Chevaher
presented to the king.
The Chevaher de Grammont had given orders that fifteen
hundred louis should be expended upon it ; but the Duke of
Guise, who was his friend, to oblige him, laid out two thou
sand. All the court was in admiration at the magnificence
of the present ; and the king, charmed with the Chevaher's
attention to everything which could afford him pleasure,
faded not to acknowledge it : he would not, however, accept
a present of so much value, but upon condition that the
Chevalier should not refuse another from him.
The queen, imagining that so splendid a carriage might
prove fortunate for her, wished to appear in it first, with the
Duchess of York. Lady Castlemaine, who had seen them in
it, thinking that it set off a fine figure to greater advantage than
any other, desired the king to lend her this wonderful calash
to appear in it the first fine day in Hyde Park : Miss Stewart
had the same wish, and requested to have it on the same day.
As it was impossible to reconcUe these two goddesses, whose
former union was turned into mortal hatred, the king was
very much perplexed.
Lady Castlemaine was with chUd, and threatened to mis
carry, if her rival was preferred; Miss Stewart threatened,

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT. 159
that she never would be with chUd, if her request was not
granted. This menace prevailed, and Lady Castlemaine's rage
was so great, that she had almost kept her word ; and it
was beheved that this triumph cost her rival some of her
innocence. The queen dowager, who, though she had no share in these
broUs, had no objection to them, and as usual being diverted
with this circumstance, she took occasion to joke with the
Chevaher de Grammont, for having thrown this bone of con
tention among such competitors ; and did not faU to give
him, in the presence of the whole court, those praises which
so magnificent a present deserved : " But how comes it," said
she, " that you have no equipage yourself, though you are
at so great an expense ? for I am told that you do not keep
even a single footman, and that one of the common runners in
the streets lights you home with a stinking link." " Madam,"
said he, " the Chevaher de Grammont hates pomp : my link-
boy, of whom you speak, is faithful to my service; and
besides, he is one of the bravest feUows in the world. Your
Majesty is unacquainted with the nation of link-boys : it is a
charming one, I can assure you : a man cannot step out in the
night without being surrounded by a dozen of them. The
first time I became acquainted with them, I retained aU that
offered me their services ; so that when I arrived at White-
haU, I had at least two hundred about my chair : the sight
was new ; for those who had seen me pass with this Ulumina-
tion, asked whose funeral it was. These gentlemen, however,
began fighting about some dozen shiUings I had thrown
among them then; and he whom your Majesty mentions
having beaten three or four of his companions, I retained him
for his valour. As for the parade of coaches and footmen, I
despise it : I have sometimes had five or six valets-de-chambre

160 MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.
at once, without having a single servant in hvery, except my
chaplain Poussatin." "How!" said the queen, bursting out
laughing, "a chaplain in your hvery! he surely was not a
priest ?" " Pardon me, madam," said he, " and the first priest
in the world for dancing the Biscayan jig." " Chevaher,"
said the king, "pray teU us the history of your chaplain
Poussatin."

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