This stately structure was given by Charles II., in 1672, to the Duke
and Duchess of Lauderdale: she, the supposed mistress of Cromwell; he,
the cruel, hateful Lauderdale of the Cabal. This detestable couple,
however, furnished with massive grandeur the apartments of Ham House.
They had the ceilings painted by Verrio; the furniture was rich, and
even now the bellows and brushes in some of the rooms are of silver
filigree. One room is furnished with yellow damask, still rich, though
faded; the very seats on which Charles, looking around him, saw
Clifford, Arlington, Buckingham, Ashley (the infamous Shaftesbury), and
Lauderdale--and knew not, good easy man, that he was looking on a band
of traitors--are still there. Nay, he even sat to Sir Peter Lely for a
portrait for this very place--in which, schemes for the ruin of the
kingdom were concocted. All, probably, was smooth and pleasing to the
monarch as he ranged down the fine gallery, ninety-two feet long; or sat
at dinner amid his foes in that hall, surrounded with an open
balustrade; or disported himself on the river's green brink. Nay, one
may even fancy Nell Gwynn taking a day's pleasure in this then lone and
ever sweet locality. We hear her swearing, as she was wont to do,
perchance at the dim looking-glasses, her own house in Pall Mall, given
her by the king, having been filled up, for the comedian, entirely,
ceiling and all, with looking-glass. How bold and pretty she looked in
her undress! Even Pepys--no very sound moralist, though a vast
hypocrite--tells us: Nelly, 'all unready' was 'very pretty, prettier far
than he thought.' But to see how she was 'painted,' would, he thought,
'make a man mad.'

'Madame Ellen,' as after her _elevation_, as it was termed, she was
called, might, since she held long a great sway over Charles's fancy, be
suffered to scamper about Ham House--where her merry laugh perhaps