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Royalty Restored or London under Charles II
Chapter XIV
by Molloy, J. Fitzgerald
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The kingdom in peril.--The chancellor falls under his majesty's
displeasure.--The Duke of Buckingham's mimicry.--Lady
Castlemaine's malice.--Lord Clarendon's fall.--The Duke of Ormond
offends the royal favourite.--She covers him with abuse.--Plots
against the Duke of York.--Schemes for a royal divorce.--Moll
Davis and Nell Gwynn.--The king and the comedian.--Lady
Castlemaine abandons herself to great disorders.--Young Jack
Spencer.--The countess intrigues with an acrobat.--Talk of the
town.--The mistress created a duchess.
At this time the kingdom stood in uttermost danger, being brought
to that condition by his majesty's negligence towards its
concerns. The peril was, moreover, heightened from the fact of
the king being impatient to rid himself of those who had the
nation's credit at heart, and sought to uphold its interests. To
this end he was led in part by his own inclinations, and
furthermore by his friends' solicitations. Foremost amongst
those with whose services he was anxious to dispense, were the
chancellor, my Lord Clarendon, and the lord lieutenant of
Ireland, his grace the Duke of Ormond.
The king's displeasure against these men, who had served his
father loyally, himself faithfully, and their country honestly,
was instigated through hatred borne them by my Lady Castlemaine.
From the first both had bewailed the monarch's connection with
her, and the evil influence she exercised over him. Accordingly,
after the pattern of honest men, they had set their faces
against her.
Not only, as has already been stated, would the chancellor refuse
to let any document bearing her name pass the great seal, but he
had often prevailed with the king to alter resolutions she had
persuaded him to form. And moreover had his lordship sinned in
her eyes by forbidding his wife to visit or hold intercourse with
her. These were sufficient reasons to arouse the hatred and
procure the revenge of this malicious woman, who was now
virtually at the head of the kingdom. For awhile, however,
Charles, mindful of the services the chancellor had rendered him,
was unwilling to thrust him from his high place. But as time
sped, and the machinations of a clique of courtiers in league
with the countess were added to her influence, the chancellor's
power wavered. And finally, when he was suspected of stepping
between his majesty and his unlawful pleasures--concerning which
more shall be said anon--he fell.
At the head and front of the body which plotted against Lord
Clarendon, pandered to Lady Castlemaine, and, for its own
purposes--politically and socially--sought to control the king,
was his grace the Duke of Buckingham. This witty courtier and
his friends, when assembled round the pleasant supper table
spread in the countess's apartments, and honoured almost nightly
by the presence of the king, delighted to vent the force of their
humour upon the chancellor, and criticize his influence over the
monarch until Charles smarted from their words. In the height of
their mirth, if his majesty declared he would go a journey, walk
in a certain direction, or perform some trivial action next day,
those around him would lay a wager he would not fulfil his
intentions; and when asked why they had arrived at such
conclusions, they would reply, because the chancellor would not
permit him. On this another would remark with mock gravity, he
thought there were no grounds for such an imputation, though,
indeed, he could not deny it was universally believed abroad his
majesty was implicitly governed by Lord Clarendon. The king,
being keenly sensitive to remarks doubting his authority, and
most desirous of appearing his own master, would exclaim on such
occasions that the chancellor "had served him long, and
understood his business, in which he trusted him; but in any
other matter than his business, he had no more credit with him
than any other man." And presently the Duke of Buckingham--who
possessed talents of mimicry to a surpassing degree--would arise,
and, screwing his face into ridiculous contortions, and shaking
his wig in a manner that burlesqued wisdom to perfection, deliver
some ludicrous speech brimming with mirth and indecencies,
assuming the grave air and stately manner of the chancellor the
while. And finally, to make the caricature perfect, Tom
Killigrew, hanging a pair of bellows before him by way of purse,
and preceded by a friend carrying a fireshovel to represent a
mace, would walk round the room with the slow determined tread
peculiar to Lord Clarendon. At these performances the king, his
mistress, and his courtiers would laugh loud and long in chorus,
with which was mingled sounds of chinking glasses and flowing
wine. ["Came my lord chancellor (the Earl of Clarendon) and his
lady, his purse and mace borne before him, to visit me"--
Evelyn's "Diary."]
In this manner was the old man's power undermined; but a
circumstance which hastened his fall occurred in the early part
of 1667. In that year Lady Castlemaine had, for a valuable
consideration, disposed of a place at court, which ensured the
purchaser a goodly salary. However, before the bargain could
finally be ratified, it was necessary the appointment should pass
the great seal. This the chancellor would not permit, and
accompanied his refusal by remarking, "he thought this woman
would sell every thing shortly." His speech being repeated to
her, she, in great rage, sent him word she "had disposed of this
place, and had no doubt in a little time to dispose of his." And
so great was the malice she bore him, that she railed against him
openly and in all places; nor did she scruple to declare in the
queen's chamber, in the presence of much company, "that she hoped
to see his head upon a stake, to keep company with those of the
regicides on Westminster Hall."
And some political movements now arising, the history of which
lies not within the province of this work, the king seized upon
them as an excuse for parting with his chancellor. The monarch
complained that my Lord Clarendon "was so imperious that he would
endure no contradiction; that he had a faction in the House of
Commons that opposed everything that concerned his majesty's
service, if it were not recommended to them by him; and that he
had given him very ill advice concerning the parliament, which
offended him most."
Therefore there were rumours in the air that the chancellor's
fall was imminent; nor were the efforts of his son-in-law, the
Duke of York, able to protect him, for the friends of my Lady
Castlemaine openly told his majesty "it would not consist with
his majesty's honour to be hectored out of his determination to
dismiss the chancellor by his brother, who was wrought upon by
his wife's crying." It therefore happened on the 26th of August,
1667, as early as ten o'clock in the morning, Lord Clarendon
waited at Whitehall on the king, who presently, accompanied by
his brother, received him with characteristic graciousness.
Whereon the old man, acknowledging the monarch's courtesy, said
he "had no suit to make to him, nor the least thought to dispute
with him, or to divert him from the resolution he had taken; but
only to receive his determination from himself, and most humbly
to beseech him to let him know what fault he had committed, that
had drawn this severity upon him from his majesty."
In answer to this Charles said he must always acknowledge "he had
served him honestly and faithfully, and that he did believe never
king had a better servant; that he had taken this resolution for
his good and preservation, as well as for his own convenience and
security; that he was sorry the business had taken so much air,
and was so publicly spoken of, that he knew not how to change his
purpose." To these words of fair seeming the troubled chancellor
replied by doubting if the sudden dismissal of an old servant who
had served the crown full thirty years, without any suggestion of
crime, but rather with a declaration of innocence, would not call
his majesty's justice and good nature into question. He added
that men would not know how to serve him, when they should see it
was in the power of three or four persons who had never done him
any notable service to dispose him to ungracious acts. And
finally, he made bold to cast some reflections upon my Lady
Castlemaine, and give his majesty certain warnings regarding her
influence.
At this the king, not being well pleased, rose up, and the
interview, which had lasted two hours, terminated. Lord
Clarendon tells us so much concerning his memorable visit, to
which Pepys adds a vivid vignette picture of his departure. When
my lord passed from his majesty's presence into the privy garden,
my Lady Castlemaine, who up to that time had been in bed, "ran
out in her smock into her aviary looking into Whitehall--and
thither her woman brought her nightgown--and stood joying herself
at the old man's going away; and several of the gallants of
Whitehall, of which there were many staying to see the chancellor
return, did talk to her in her birdcage--among others Blaneford,
telling her she was the bird of paradise."
A few days after this occurrence the king sent Secretary Morrice
to the chancellor's house, with a warrant under a sign manual to
require and receive the great seal. This Lord Clarendon at once
delivered him with many expressions of duty which he bade the
messenger likewise convey his majesty. And no sooner had Morrice
handed the seals to the king, than Baptist May, keeper of the
privy purse, and friend of my Lady Castlemaine, sought the
monarch, and falling upon his knees, kissed his hand and
congratulated him on his riddance of the chancellor. "For now."
said he, availing himself of the liberty Charles permitted his
friends, "you will be king--what you have never been before."
Finally, the chancellor was, through influence of his enemies,
impeached in the House of Commons; and to such length did they
pursue him, that he was banished the kingdom by act of
parliament.
His grace the Duke of Ormond was the next minister whom my Lady
Castlemaine, in the strength of her evil influence, sought to
undermine. By reason of an integrity rendering him too loyal to
the king to pander to his majesty's mistress, he incurred her
displeasure in many ways; but especially by refusing to gratify
her cupidity. It happened she had obtained from his majesty a
warrant granting her the Phoenix Park, Dublin, and the mansion
situated therein, which had always been placed at service of the
lords lieutenants, and was the only summer residence at their
disposal. The duke, therefore, boldly refusing to pass the
warrant, stopped the grant. [According to O'Connor's
"Bibliotheca Stowensis," Lady Castlemaine soon after received a
grant of a thousand pounds per annum in compensation for her loss
of Phoenix Park.] This so enraged the countess, that soon after,
when his grace returned to England, she, on meeting him in one of
the apartments in Whitehall, greeted him with a torrent of
abusive language and bitter reproaches, such as the rancour of
her heart could suggest, or the license of her tongue utter, and
concluded by hoping she might live to see him hanged. The duke
heard her with the uttermost calmness, and when she had exhausted
her abusive vocabulary quietly replied, "Madam, I am not in so
much haste to put an end to your days; for all I wish with regard
to you is, that I may live to see you grow old." And, bowing
low, the fine old soldier left her presence. It may be added,
though the duke was deprived of the lord lieutenancy, the
countess's pious wish regarding him was never fulfilled.
It now occurred to those who had relentlessly persecuted the
chancellor, that though they were safe as long as Charles
reigned, his death would certainly place them in peril. For they
sufficiently knew the Duke of York's character to be aware when
he ascended the throne he would certainly avenge the wrongs
suffered by his father-in-law. Accordingly these men, prominent
amongst whom were the Duke of Buckingham, Sir Thomas Clifford,
Lords Arlington, Lauderdale, and Ashley, and Baptist May,
resolved to devise means which would prevent the Duke of York
ever attaining the power of sovereignty. Therefore scarce a year
had gone by since Lord Clarendon's downfall, ere rumours were
spread abroad that his majesty was about to put away the queen,
This was to be effected, it was said, by the king's
acknowledgment of a previous marriage with Lucy Walters, mother
of the Duke of Monmouth, or by obtaining a divorce on ground of
her majesty's barrenness.
The Duke of Buckingham, who was prime mover in this plot, aware
of the king's pride in, and fondness for the Duke of Monmouth,
favoured the scheme of his majesty's admission of a marriage
previous to that which united him with Catherine of Braganza.
And according to Burnet, Buckingham undertook to procure
witnesses who would swear they had been present at the ceremony
which united him with the abandoned Lucy Walters. Moreover, the
Earl of Carlisle, who likewise favoured the contrivance, offered
to bring this subject before the House of Lords. However, the
king would not consent to trifle with the succession in this vile
manner, and the idea was promptly abandoned. But though the
project was unsuccessful, it was subsequently the cause of many
evils; for the chances of sovereignty, flashing before the eyes
of the Duke of Monmouth, dazzled him with hopes, in striving to
realize which, he, during the succeeding reign, steeped the
country in civil warfare, and lost his head.
The king's friends, ever active for evil, now sought other
methods by which he might rid himself of the woman who loved him
well, and therefore be enabled to marry again, when, it was
trusted, he would have heirs to the crown. It was suggested his
union might, through lack of some formality, be proved illegal;
but as this could not be effected without open violation of truth
and justice, it was likewise forsaken. The Duke of Buckingham
now besought his majesty that he would order a bill to divorce
himself from the queen to be brought into the House of Commons.
The king gave his consent to the suggestion, and the affair
proceeded so far that a date was fixed upon for the motion.
However, three days previous, Charles called Baptist May aside,
and told him the matter must be discontinued.
But even yet my Lord Buckingham did not despair of gaining his
wishes. And, being qualified by his character for the commission
of abominable deeds, and fitted by his experience for undertaking
adventurous schemes, he proposed to his majesty, as Burnet
states, that he would give him leave to abduct the queen, and
send her out of the kingdom to a plantation, where she should be
well and carefully looked to, but never heard of more. Then it
could be given out she had deserted him, upon which grounds he
might readily obtain a divorce. But the king, though he
permitted such a proposal to be made him, contemplated it with
horror, declaring "it was a wicked thing to make a poor lady
miserable only because she was his wife and had no children by
him, which was no fault of hers."
Ultimately these various schemes resolved themselves into a
proposition which Charles sanctioned. This was that the queen's
confessor should persuade her to leave the world, and embrace a
religious life. Whether this suggestion was ever made to her
majesty is unknown, for the Countess of Castlemaine, hearing of
these schemes, and foreseeing she would be the first sacrificed
to a new queen's jealousy, opposed them with such vigour that
they fell to the ground and were heard of no more. The fact was,
the king took no active part in these designs, not being anxious,
now the Duchess of Richmond had accepted his love, to unite
himself with another wife. Whilst her grace had been unmarried,
the idea had indeed occurred to him of seeking a divorce that he
might be free to lay his crown at the feet of the maid of honour.
And with such a view in mind he had consulted Dr. Sheldon,
Archbishop of Canterbury, as to whether the Church of England
"would allow of a divorce, when both parties were consenting, and
one of them lay under a natural incapacity of having children."
Before answering a question on which so much depended, the
archbishop requested time for consideration, which, with many
injunctions to secrecy, was allowed him. "But," says Lord
Dartmouth, who vouches for truth of this statement, "the Duke of
Richmond's clandestine marriage, before he had given an answer,
made the king suspect he had revealed the secret to Clarendon,
whose creature Sheldon was known to be; and this was the true
secret of Clarendon's disgrace." For the king, believing the
chancellor had aided the duke in his secret marriage, in order to
prevent his majesty's union with Miss Stuart, and the presumable
exclusion of the Duke and Duchess of York and their children from
the throne, never forgave him.
Though the subject of the royal divorce was no longer mentioned,
the disturbances springing from it were far from ended; for the
Duke of Buckingham, incensed at Lady Castlemaine's interference,
openly quarrelled with her, abused her roundly, and swore he
would remove the king from her power. To this end he therefore
employed his talents, and with such tact and assiduity that he
ultimately fulfilled his menaces. The first step he took towards
accomplishing his desires, was to introduce two players to his
majesty, named respectively Moll Davis and Nell Gwynn.
The former, a member of the Duke of York's troupe of performers,
could boast of goodly lineage, though not of legitimate birth,
her father being Thomas Howard, first Earl of Berkshire. She
had, early in the year 1667, made her first appearance at the
playhouse, and had by her comely face and shapely figure
challenged the admiration of the town. Her winsome ways,
pleasant voice, and graceful dancing soon made her a favourite
with the courtiers, who voted her an excellent wench; though some
of her own sex, judging harshly of her, as is their wont towards
each other, declared her "the most impertinent slut in the
world."
Now the Duke of Buckingham knowing her well, it seemed to him no
woman was more suited to fulfil his purpose of thwarting the
countess; for if he succeeded in awaking the king's passion for
the comedian, such a proceeding would not only arouse my lady's
jealousy, but likewise humble her pride. Therefore, when this
court Mephistopheles accompanied his majesty to the playhouse, he
was careful to dwell on Moll Davis's various charms, the
excellency of her figure, the beauty of her face, the piquancy of
her manner. So impressed was the monarch by Buckingham's
descriptions, that he soon became susceptible to her
fascinations. The amour once begun was speedily pursued; and she
was soon enabled to boast, in presence of the players, that the
king--whose generosity was great to fallen women--had given her a
ring valued at seven hundred pounds, and was about to take, and
furnish most richly, a house in Suffolk Street for her benefit
and abode. Pepys heard this news in the first month of the year
1668; and soon afterwards a further rumour reached him that she
was veritably the king's mistress, "even to the scorn of the
world."
This intrigue affected Lady Castlemaine in a manner which the
Duke of Buckingham had not expected. Whilst sitting beside
Charles in the playhouse, she noticed his attention was riveted
upon her rival, when she became melancholy and out of humour, in
which condition she remained some days. But presently rallying
her spirits, she soon found means to divert her mind and avenge
her wrongs, of which more shall be recorded hereafter.
Meanwhile, the poor queen, whose feelings neither the king nor
his courtiers took into consideration, bore this fresh insult
with such patience as she could summon to her aid, on one
occasion only protesting against her husband's connection with
the player. This happened when the Duke of York's troupe
performed in Whitehall the tragedy of "Horace," "written by the
virtuous Mrs. Phillips." The courtiers assembled on this
occasion presented a brilliant and goodly sight. Evelyn tells us
"the excessive gallantry of the ladies was infinite, those jewels
especially on Lady Castlemaine esteemed at forty thousand pounds
and more, far outshining ye queene." Between each act of the
tradgedy a masque and antique dance was performed. When Moll
Davis appeared, her majesty, turning pale from sickness of heart,
and trembling from indignation at the glaring insult thrust upon
her, arose and left the apartment boisterous with revelry, where
she had sat a solitary sad figure in its midst. As a result of
her intimacy with the king, Moll Davis bore him a daughter, who
subsequently became Lady Derwentwater. But the Duke of
Buckingham's revenge upon my Lady Castlemaine was yet but half
complete; and therefore whilst the monarch carried on his
intrigue with Moll Davis, his grace, enlarging upon the wit and
excellency of Nell Gwynn, besought his majesty to send for her.
This request the king complied with readily enough, and she was
accordingly soon added to the list of his mistresses. Nell
Gwynn, who was at this period in her eighteenth year, had joined
the company of players at the king's house, about the same time
as Moll Davis had united her fortunes with the Duke of York's
comedians. Her time upon the stage was, however, but of brief
duration; for my Lord Buckhurst, afterwards Earl of Dorset, a
witty and licentious man, falling in love with her, induced her
to become his mistress, quit the theatre, and forsake the society
of her lover, Charles Hart, a famous actor and great-nephew of
William Shakespeare. And she complying with his desires in these
matters, he made her an allowance of one hundred pounds a year,
on which she returned her parts to the manager, and declared she
would act no more.
Accordingly in the month of July, 1667, she was living at Epsom
with my Lord Buckhurst and his witty friend Sir Charles Sedley,
and a right merry house they kept for a time. But alas, ere the
summer had died there came a day when charming Nell and his
fickle lordship were friends no more, and parting from him, she
was obliged to revert to the playhouse again.
Now Nell Gwynn being not only a pretty woman, but moreover an
excellent actress, her return was welcomed by the town. Her
achievements in light comedy were especially excellent, and
declared entertaining to a rare degree. Pepys, who witnessed her
acting "a comical part," in the "Maiden Queen," a play by Dryden,
says he could "never hope to see the like done again by man or
woman. So great performance of a comical part," he continues,
"was never, I believe, in the world before as Nell do this, both
as a mad girle, then most and best of all when she comes in like
a young gallant; and hath the motions and carriage of a spark the
most that ever I saw any man have. It makes me, I confess,
admire her." In the part of Valeria, in "Tyrannic Love," she was
also pronounced inimitable; especially in her delivery of the
epilogue. The vein of comedy with which she delivered the
opening lines, addressed to those about to bear her dead body
from the stage, was merry beyond belief. "Hold!" she cried out
to one of them, as she suddenly started to life--
"Hold! are you mad? you damned confounded dog!
I am to rise and speak the epilogue."
Before the year 1667 ended, she had several times visited his
majesty at Whitehall. The king was now no less assured of her
charms as a woman, than he had previously been convinced of her
excellence as an actress. In due time, her intimacy with the
monarch resulted in the birth of two sons; the elder of which was
created Duke of St. Albans, from whom is descended the family now
bearing that title: the second died young and unmarried.
Through influence of these women, my Lady Castlemaine's power
over the king rapidly diminished, and at last ceased to exist;
seeing which, as Burnet says, "She abandoned herself to great
disorders; one of which by the artifice of the Duke of Buckingham
was discovered by the king in person, the party concerned leaping
out of the window." The gallant to whom the worthy bishop refers
was John Churchill, afterwards the great Duke of Marlborough, at
this time a handsome stripling of eighteen summers. In his
office as page to the Duke of York, he frequently came under
notice of her ladyship, who, pleased with the charms of his
boyish face and graceful figure, intimated his love would not
prove unacceptable to her. Accordingly he promptly made love to
the countess, who, in the first fervour of her affection,
presented him with five thousand pounds. With this sum he
purchased a life annuity of five hundred pounds, which, as Lord
Chesterfield writes, "became the foundation of his subsequent
fortune." Nor did her generosity end here: at a cost of six
thousand crowns she obtained for him the post of groom of the
bedchamber to the Duke of York, and was instrumental in
subsequently forwarding his advancements in the army.
My Lady Castlemaine was by no means inclined to spend her days in
misery because the royal favour was no longer vouchsafed her; and
therefore, by way of satisfying her desires for revenge,
conducted intrigues not only with John Churchill and Harry
Jermyn, but likewise with one Jacob Hall, a noted acrobat. This
man was not only gifted with strength and agility, but likewise
with grace and beauty: so that, as Granger tells us, "The ladies
regarded him as a due composition of Hercules and Adonis." His
dancing on the tight rope at Bartholomew Fair was "a thing worth
seeing and mightily followed;" whilst his deeds of daring at
Southwark Fair were no less subjects of admiration and wonder.
The countess was so charmed by the performance of this athlete in
public, that she became desirous of conversation with him in
private; and he was accordingly introduced to her by Beck
Marshall, the player. The countess found his society so
entertaining that she frequently visited him, a compliment he
courteously returned. Moreover, she allowed him a yearly salary,
and openly showed her admiration for him by having their
portraits painted in one picture: in which she is represented
playing a fiddle, whilst he leans over her, touching the strings
of a guitar.
Her amours in general, and her intimacy with the rope-dancer in
particular, becoming common talk of the town, his majesty became
incensed; and it grieved him the more that one who dwelt in his
palace, and was yet under his protection, should divide her
favours between a king and a mountebank. Accordingly bitter
feuds arose between her and the monarch, when words of hatred,
scorn, and defiance were freely exchanged. His majesty
upbraiding her with a love for the rope-dancer, she replied with
much spirit, "it very ill became him to throw out such reproaches
against her: that he had never ceased quarrelling unjustly with
her, ever since he had betrayed his own mean low inclinations:
that to gratify such a depraved taste as his, he wanted the
pitiful strolling actresses whom he had lately introduced into
their society." Then came fresh threats from the lips of the
fury, followed by passionate storms of tears.
The king, who loved ease greatly, and valued peace exceedingly,
became desirous of avoiding such harrowing scenes. Accordingly,
he resolved to enter into a treaty with his late mistress, by
which he would consent to grant her such concessions as she
desired, providing she promised to discontinue her intrigues with
objectionable persons, and leave him to pursue his ways without
reproach. By mutual consent, his majesty and the countess
selected the Chevalier de Grammont to conduct this delicate
business; he being one in whose tact and judgment they had
implicit confidence. After various consultations and due
consideration, it was agreed the countess should abandon her
amours with Henry Jermyn and Jacob Hall, rail no more against
Moll Davis or Nell Gwynn, or any other of his majesty's
favourites, in consideration for which Charles would create her a
duchess, and give her an additional pension in order to support
her fresh honours with becoming dignity.
And as the king found her residence in Whitehall no longer
necessary to his happiness, Berkshire House was purchased for her
as a suitable dwelling This great mansion, situated at the south-
west corner of St. James's Street, facing St. James's Palace, was
surrounded by pleasant gardens devised in the Dutch style, and
was in every way a habitation suited for a prince. This handsome
gift was followed by a grant of the revenues of the Post Office,
amounting to four thousand seven hundred pounds a year, which was
at first paid her in weekly instalments. On the 3rd of August,
1670, Barbara, Countess of Castlemaine, was created Baroness
Nonsuch, of Nonsuch Park, Surrey; Countess of Southampton; and
Duchess of Cleveland in the peerage of England. The reasons for
crowding these honours thick upon her were, as the patent stated,
"in consideration of her noble descent, her father's death in the
service of the crown, and by reason of her personal virtues."
Nor did his majesty's extravagant favours to her end here. She
was now, as Mr. Povy told his friend Pepys, "in a higher command
over the king than ever--not as a mistress, for she scorns him,
but as a tyrant, to command him." In consequence of this power,
she was, two months after her creation as duchess, presented by
the monarch with the favourite hunting seat of Henry VIII., the
magnificent palace and great park of Nonsuch, in the parishes of
Cheam and Malden, in the county of Surrey. And yet a year later,
she received fresh proofs of his royal munificence by the gift of
"the manor, hundred, and advowson of Woking, county Surrey; the
manor and advowson of Chobham, the hundred of Blackheath and
Wootton, the manor of Bagshot (except the park, site of the manor
and manor-house, and the Bailiwick, and the office of the
Bailiwick, called Surrey Bailiwick, otherwise Bagshot Bailiwick),
and the advowson of Bisley, all in the same county."
Her wealth, the more notable at a time when the king was in debt,
and the nation impoverished from expenditure necessary to
warfare, was enormous. Andrew Marvell, writing in August, 1671,
states: "Lord St. John, Sir R. Howard, Sir John Bennet, and Sir
W. Bicknell, the brewer, have farmed the customs. They have
signed and sealed ten thousand pounds a year more to the Duchess
of Cleveland; who has likewise near ten thousand pounds a year
out of the new farm of the country excise of Beer and Ale; five
thousand pounds a year out of the Post Office; and they say, the
reversion of all the King's Leases, the reversion of places all
in the Custom House, the green wax, and indeed what not? All
promotions spiritual and temporal pass under her cognizance."
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