WHITEHALL AT THE RESTORATION.

41

were to be seen riding laughingly forth from under its heavy portals. Again the love-song was to be heard by moonlight in the shady labyrinths of its Privy Gardens, and again the dance took place in its lighted galleries; the while the "merry monarch" sauntered among his witty courtiers, or toyed with his languishing mistress, as gay, as thoughtless, and as unconcerned as if the blood of his father had never dimmed the axe of the executioner within a few yards of him, or as if he himself had never been a wanderer on the face of the earth.

Yet wake once more the revel and the song;
Relight the halls for Pleasure's thoughtless throng!
Refill the bowl to Beauty's sparkling eyes!

"Live while we live!" the Merry Monarch cries.

Lo! at the word delicious music falls;

And flash the lamps upon the mirrored walls.
How sweet the odours and how rich the rooms
With dazzling jewels and with waving plumes!
While names that shine in History's page we trace,
Hyde's scornful frown, and Monmouth's angel-face ;
Portsmouth's dark eye, and Cleveland's haughty charms,
That lured a monarch to their snowy arms.

There shines the Star on graceful Villiers' breast;
There the grouped courtiers laugh at Wilmot's jest.

There glittering piles of thriftless gold entice

The wealthy dupe to cast the dangerous dice,

There floats young Beauty through the wanton dance,
With love becalmed in every languid glance;
While the soft love-song to some few apart
Steals with voluptuous sweetness o'er the heart.
Midst these the monarch glides from fair to fair,
Hints the light wishes, or breathes a bolder prayer.
But lo! the song is hushed, the guests are fled;
The monarch lies upon his funeral bed.
Behold how black the vault's contrasted gloom!
There are no Lords-in-Waiting in the tomb.
All whom his greatness raised, his witcheries won,
Are gone to supplicate the rising sun.

Of all who knelt to him, cringed, pandered, sued,
Folly's vain swarm, and Flattery's hollow brood,

42

RESTORATION OF CHARLES THE SECOND.

One, one alone, within her widowed power,

Is left to sorrow o'er their parting hour;

The one true friend who smoothed his closing scene

His slighted spouse, his own discarded Queen.-J. H. J.

The return of Charles the Second to Whitehall took place on the 29th of May, 1660, the day on which he completed his thirtieth year. In St. George's Fields, Southwark, he had been met by the Lord Mayor and aldermen in their scarlet gowns, by whom he was conducted under a rich canopy, where he was regaled with a magnificent banquet. From Southwark to Whitehall, the streets through which he passed were hung on each side with tapestry; bands of music were stationed at appointed places; the train-bands of the City, in rich dresses, lined the way, and the conduits flowed with excellent wine. When at length he entered the palace of his ancestors, it was amidst the roar of cannon and the acclamations of thousands. After dark, the sky was illumined with bonfires and fireworks, and the people regaled with a profusion of wine and food. At a late hour Charles stole from Whitehall to the house of Sir Samuel Morland at Lambeth, where he passed the first night of his almost miraculous restoration with Mrs. Palmer, afterwards the celebrated Duchess of Cleveland.

In the pages of Pepys and De Grammont will be found. many amusing particulars connected with the history of Whitehall in the days of the "merry monarch." Pepys, in particular, has bequeathed us a very graphic account of a Court entertainment which he witnessed in the old palace. "The room," he writes, "where the ball was to be, was crammed with fine ladies, the greatest of the Court. Byand-by comes the King and Queen, the Duke and Duchess. [of York], and all the great ones: and, after seating themselves, the King takes out the Duchess of York; and the Duke, the Duchess of Buckingham; the Duke of Monmouth,

CHARLES THE SECOND'S MISTRESSES.

43

my Lady Castlemaine, and so other lords, other ladies; and they danced a brantle. After that, the King led a lady a single coranto; and then the rest of the lords, one after another, other ladies: very noble it was, and great pleasure to see. Then to country-dances; the King leading the first, which he called for; which was, says he- Cuckolds all awry'—the old dance of England. Of the ladies that danced, the Duke of Monmouth's mistress, and my Lady Castlemaine, and a daughter of Sir Harry de Vic's were the best. The manner was when the King dances, all the ladies in the room, and the Queen herself, stand up; and indeed he dances rarely, and much better than the Duke of York."

From the pen of the same amusing writer we have a charming description of the return to Whitehall of a gay equestrian party, consisting of Charles, his Queen, la belle Stuart, afterwards Duchess of Richmond, and other courtiers. "I followed them," writes Pepys, " up into Whitehall, and into the Queen's presence, where all the ladies walked, talking and fiddling with their hats and feathers, and changing and trying one another's by one another's heads, and laughing. But it was the finest sight to me, considering their great beauty and dress, that ever I did see in all my life. But, above all, Miss Stuart, in this dress, with her hat cocked and a red plume, with her sweet eye, little Roman nose, and excellent taille, is now the greatest beauty I ever saw, I think, in my life." On horseback, Miss Stuart is said to have looked exquisitely beautiful; indeed, it was this charm which captivated George Hamilton, when he presented her with his heart and one of "the prettiest horses in England."

Such charms as those of la belle Stuart could scarcely fail to captivate the amorous monarch, "The King," writes.

Pepys in 1663, "is now besotted with Miss Stuart, getting her into corners; and will be with her half an hour together, kissing her, to the observation of all the world; and she now stays by herself, and expects it, as my Lady Castlemaine did use to do." The feeling of Charles for Miss Stuart seems to have approached nearer to what may be termed love than any other of his libertine attachments. Miss Stuart, however, had sense enough to prefer a substantial match to a splendid intrigue, and accordingly she readily listened to an offer of marriage which she received from Charles Stuart, fourth Duke of Richmond. The remaining scenes of the drama are laid at Whitehall. The Duchess of Cleveland, it seems, furious at seeing her influence over her royal lover eclipsed by a younger rival, determined to enlighten Charles as to the inconstancy of his new mistress. Accordingly, one night, in the course of a stormy interview, the Duchess bitterly taunted him with being the dupe of his rival, and the laughing-stock of the Court,-" Miss Stuart," she said jeeringly, "had doubtless dismissed him from her apartment on the ground of affected indisposition or some pretended scruples of delicacy; but, she added, he had only to return to her chamber, and he would find his happy rival, the Duke of Richmond, occupying his place." While Charles was hesitating how to act, the Duchess took him by the hand, and led him towards the spot. "Miss Stuart's chamber," writes De Grammont, "was in the middle of a little gallery, which led through a private door from the King's apartments to those of his mistresses. The Duchess of Cleveland wished him good night as he entered her rival's chamber, and retired in order to wait the issue of the adventure." The King, it appears, had his hand almost on the door-handle, when he was obstructed by Miss Stuart's waiting-maid, who attempted to oppose his entrance, telling him

her mistress had been ill, and had only just fallen asleep. Charles, however, insisted on forcing his way into the apartment. "He found Miss Stuart in bed," continues De Grammont, "but far from being asleep. The Duke of Richmond was seated at her pillow, and in all probability was less inclined to sleep than herself. The confusion of the one party and the rage of the other were such as may be easily imagined on such an occasion. The King, who of all men was the most mild and gentle, expressed his resentment to the Duke of Richmond in such terms as he had never before made use of. The Duke was speechless and almost petrified. He saw his master and his King justly irritated. The first transports which rage inspires on such occasions are dangerous. Miss Stuart's window was very convenient for a sudden revenge; the Thames flowing close beneath it. He cast his eyes upon it, and seeing those of the King more. inflamed with indignation than he thought his nature capable of, he made a profound bow, and retired without replying a single word to the torrent of reproaches and menaces that were poured upon him." The Duke, as may be readily supposed, retired from Court, but it was only to return privately a short time afterwards, and carry off his beautiful prize. It was on a stormy night in March, 1667, that Miss Stuart contrived to elope from her apartments at Whitehall. Having joined the Duke at a small inn in Westminster, they fled together on horseback into Surrey, where they were married the following morning by the Duke's chaplain. According to Bishop Burnet, nothing could exceed the violence of the King's rage on hearing of his mistress's flight. Within twelvemonths, however, the good-humoured monarch not only became reconciled to her as well as her husband, but he was once so intoxicated at a party at Lord Townshend's, as to boast to the Duke of Rich