Lord David Dirry-Moir was passionately fond of open-air exhibitions, of shows, of circuses with wild beasts, of the caravans of mountebanks, of clowns, tumblers, merrymen, open-air farces, and the wonders of a fair.  The true noble is he who smacks of the people.  Therefore it was that Lord David frequented the taverns and low haunts of London and the Cinque Ports.  In order to be able at need, and without compromising his rank in the white squadron, to be cheek-by-jowl with a topman or a calker, he used to wear a sailor’s jacket when he went into the slums.  For such disguise his not wearing a wig was convenient; for even under Louis XIV. the people kept to their hair like the lion to his mane.  This gave him great freedom of action.  The low people whom Lord David used to meet in the stews, and with whom he mixed, held him in high esteem, without ever dreaming that he was a lord.  They called him Tom-Jim-Jack.  Under this name he was famous and very popular amongst the dregs of the people.  He played the blackguard in a masterly style:  when necessary, he used his fists.  This phase of his fashionable life was highly appreciated by Lady Josiana.

CHAPTER V.

QUEEN ANNE.

I.

Above this couple there was Anne, Queen of England.  An ordinary woman was Queen Anne.  She was gay, kindly, august—­to a certain extent.  No quality of hers attained to virtue, none to vice.  Her stoutness was bloated, her fun heavy, her good-nature stupid.  She was stubborn and weak.  As a wife she was faithless and faithful, having favourites to whom she gave up her heart, and a husband for whom she kept her bed.  As a Christian she was a heretic and a bigot.  She had one beauty—­the well-developed neck of a Niobe.  The rest of her person was indifferently formed.  She was a clumsy coquette and a chaste one.  Her skin was white and fine; she displayed a great deal of it.  It was she who introduced the fashion of necklaces of large pearls clasped round the throat.  She had a narrow forehead, sensual lips, fleshy cheeks, large eyes, short sight.  Her short sight extended to her mind.  Beyond a burst of merriment now and then, almost as ponderous as her anger, she lived in a sort of taciturn grumble and a grumbling silence.  Words escaped from her which had to be guessed at.  She was a mixture of a good woman and a mischievous devil.  She liked surprises, which is extremely woman-like.  Anne was a pattern—­just sketched roughly—­of the universal Eve.  To that sketch had fallen that chance, the throne.  She drank.  Her husband was a Dane, thoroughbred.  A Tory, she governed by the Whigs—­like a woman, like a mad woman.  She had fits of rage.  She was violent, a brawler.  Nobody more awkward than Anne in directing affairs of state.  She allowed events to fall about as they might chance.  Her whole policy was cracked.  She excelled in bringing