BATH, 1663
Bath,August 20, 1663.
We arrived here with the Court last week, the physician having decided that the hot waters of this far-off and desolate spot would prove more beneficial to the Queen’s health than the cold waters of beautiful Tunbridge Wells. Bath has not the sunny elegance of the latter place, but the Court are doing their best to enliven this otherwise dreary spot. One of their chief occupations is to play at bowls, but you must not think that this game is confined, as in France, to artisans and lackeys. On the contrary, it is here a game of gentlefolk, and there is both skill in it and a certain art, and the places where these games are played are singularly charming and elegant. They are called “boulingrins.” They consist of small meadows, of which the grass is as smooth as abilliard table. As soon as the heat of the day is over everybody meets here, and many heavy wagers are made. I confess that I have lost considerable sums at this sport, but have been more successful at cock-fighting.
There is dancing every night at the King’s. Often a comedy is played, which is followed by a supper. As for music, it never ceases. The English are above all things a musical nation; their skill both in the art of singing and dancing far excelling that of our courtiers. For instance, the Chevalier de Grammont, who is reckoned one of our most accomplished dancers, is not sufficiently skilful to take part in the Royal dance.
The fashionable instrument is now the guitar, which was introduced here by an Italian, whose compositions so pleased the King that everybody became mad about this instrument, so that you see no one at the Court who does not play the guitar, whether or no they possess a talent for so doing. Some, such as the Earl of Arran, play as well as the Italian himself. Others extract but futile discord from this difficult instrument. It is a curious thing that the English, who have obtained an unexampled liberty in political matters, show themselves curiously slavish and lacking in initiativeand independence in matters of thought, pleasure, and recreation. Their political liberty is extraordinary; for instance, in their Parliament the members are not only allowed to speak their minds freely, but also to do a number of astonishing things, such as call the most important members of the State to the Bar! The Earl of Bristol remained free in the town after he had accused the Lord Chancellor of high treason! And even the populace considers that it has the right to speak of public affairs.
Not long ago, at the Stock Exchange, I heard a political speech quoted on every side, and even the boatmen in the barges discuss matters of State with the noble Lords whom they convey to the Houses of Parliament. On the other hand, in matters of pleasure and pastime the English are slaves of convention; everybody wishes to do what every one else is doing. The matter of the guitar-playing is an instance of this. As soon as some high personage makes a sport, an occupation, or a manner of dress fashionable, the crowd follow in abject obedience and perfect uniformity like sheep.
Indeed, we not long ago had a narrow escape from having a peculiarly tedious occupation forced upon us: the Duke of York fell in love with aScotch game calledgoff, which is played, so they say, in the more sterile regions of the extreme north of Scotland, where the inhabitants still feed on oats and wear scarcely any clothes. This game consists in hitting a hard ball about the size of a turkey’s egg into the dense heath with a kind of stick. Several hours are then spent in looking for the ball, and when, after much difficulty and discomfort, it has been found, the player immediately hits it as hard as he can into the distance and resumes the laborious search. This game would no doubt have become the fashion had not the King, who has a horror of introducing an element of seriousness into pastimes which are designed exclusively for recreation, remarked that such a game was fit only for very small children or for men who were so old that they had reached their second childhood. After that we heard no more of this intolerable sport.
Again, Prince Rupert, who is distinguished by his studious habits, his love of chemistry and mathematics and his awkward manners, attempted to introduce a game of cards called “Trump” or “Whist.” The most notable feature of this game is that it must be played in complete silence. It is not surprising, therefore, that it failed to find favourat Court, for the English love conversation above all things, and excel in repartee, apt quotation, and madrigal-making. But it is curious that although the Court is highly cultivated, and although the courtiers speak elegantly both in English and Latin, and make verses and madrigals in these languages, there appears at the present time to be no English literature at all. Our Ambassador tells me that among learned circles in London, although there are certain philosophers of merit, such as Hobbes, there remain but few traces of the art of letters for which England was once famous. The only writers whose memory still subsists to a certain degree are Bacon, Morus, Buchanan, and in the last century a certain Miltonius who acquired an evil notoriety by his scurrilous and seditious pamphlets. Letters have deserted England and given way to music and painting. The art of madrigal-making, which is cultivated at Court with assiduity and exquisite skill, belongs, of course, to music.
What has struck me most since I have been here is the beauty of the English women; they are all being painted at this moment by a painter called Lely; he is an accomplished artist, but he does not succeed in rendering the personality of the people he paints, and his pictures are all alike. Most ofthese ladies speak French not only with correctness but with elegance; some of them, such as Miss Stewart, for instance, speak French better than their own language. Others, on the other hand, are so unfamiliar with our manners and customs that they seem to imagine that a Frenchman must necessarily be half-witted, and address him in a kind of broken language such as nurses and mothers use to their babies.
Lady Hyde is remarkable, even in England, for her grace and her wit. Her hands are delicate and her feet astonishing. She is surrounded by the wits of the Court, and one evening after supper she organized a kind of tournament of wit. It was thus: we all sat round the gaming table, but instead of playing we had set before us counters made of mother-of-pearl, on each one of which a letter of the alphabet was worked in gold. These were placed face downwards and turned up in turn; each player who turned up a letter was obliged to compose a line of a sonnet beginning with the letter in question. The game would have proved highly successful had not Lord Rochester caused some annoyance by ending the sonnet, which had up till then been delicate and tender, with an unexpectedly crude and uncourtly expression, which,while it tickled the mirth of some of the company, offended our sensitive hostess.
Miss Stewart is childish and frivolous. She laughs at everything and everybody. She has a passion for those games which are usually played only by children of twelve and thirteen; such as, for instance, Blind Man’s Buff, and even when at cards the play is at its highest, she builds houses and castles with the cards, and forces everybody to join in the pastime. She is encouraged in her gaiety and her frivolity by the Duke of Buckingham, who sings agreeably, and has a wonderful talent for mimicking, not without a certain spice of malice, the voices and the tricks of his friends.
Play is everywhere high, and at every “boulingrin” there is a pavilion where refreshments are sold—liquors such as cyder, hydromel, sparkling ale, and Spanish wine. There is a race of men called “Rooks” who meet together to smoke and to drink. They are what we should call grooms in France, and they always have about them enough money to lend to those who have lost at play; they are themselves so skilful at games of hazard, especially at one particular game which is played with three cards, that no one who plays with them wins. The Chevalier de Grammont once tried hisluck with them at dice, and, strange to say, the first time he played he won. They begged him to continue the game. This he refused to do, in spite of the many well-turned compliments they paid to his prowess.
The English are somewhat concerned at this moment at the state of their Navy, which they say leaves much to be desired. There are many politicians who are in favour of building an increased number of ships, but it appears that this cannot be done without grievously taxing the rich, who are already overtaxed. The Duke of Buckingham told me yesterday that if the taxes were to be in any way increased he would be obliged to dismiss his gardener and his Groom of the Chambers. Besides which, he assured me that this agitation in favour of an increased Navy was entirely due to a foolish fear of the Dutch, a fear which he said was utterly groundless, for it was inconceivable that the Dutch could wish to invade England; moreover, if they did so they would be defeated by the English Navy, such as it was.