hess of Portsmouth out of the
king's favour, by setting up against her a rival who should be in
their interest. The Duchess of Mazarine was thought very fit for their
purpose, for she outshined the other, both in wit and beauty."

Charles de St. Denis, Seigneur de St. Evremond, was a soldier,
philosopher, and courtier, who had distinguished himself by his bravery,
learning, and politeness. Having fallen under the displeasure of the
French court, he had, in the year 1662, sought refuge in England, where
he had been welcomed with the courtesy due to his rank, and the esteem
which befitted his merits. Settling in the capital, he mixed freely in
the companionship of wits, gallants, and courtiers who constituted its
society; and delighted with London as a residence, he determined on
making England his country by adoption. An old friend and fervent
admirer of the Duchess of Mazarine, he had received the news of her
visit with joy, and celebrated her arrival in verse.

The reputation of her loveliness and the history of her life having
preceded her, the court became anxious to behold her; the king, mindful
of the relationship he had once sought; with the duchess, grew impatient
to welcome her. After a few days' rest, necessary to remedy the fatigue
of her journey, she appeared at Whitehall. By reason of her beauty, now
ripened rather than impaired by time, and those graces which attracted
the more from the fascination they had formerly exercised, she at once
gained the susceptible heart of the monarch. St. Evremond tells us her
person "contained nothing that was not too lovely." In the "Character
of the Duchess of Mazarine," which he drew soon after her arrival in
London, he has presented a portrait of her worth examining not only
for sake of the object it paints, but for the quaint workmanship it
contains. "An ill-natured curiosity," he writes, "makes me scrutinize
every feature in her face, with a design either to meet there some
shocking irregularity, or some disgusting disagreeableness. But how
unluckily do I succeed in my design. Every feature about her has a
particular beauty, that does not in the least yield to that of her eyes,
which, by the consent of all the world, are the finest in the universe.
One thing there is that entirely confounds me: her teeth, her lips, her
mouth, and all the graces that attend it, are lost amongst the great
variety of beauties in her face and what is but indifferent in her, will
not suffe