After this anecdote one cannot give much credence to this lady’s humility:  Bridget was, however, a woman of powerful intellect, weakened by her extreme, and, to use a now common term, crochety opinions.  Like most esprits forts, she was easily imposed upon.  One day this paragon saw a mountebank dancing on a stage in the most exquisite style.  His fine shape, too, caught the attention of one who assumed to be above all folly.  It is sometimes fatal to one’s peace to look out of a window; no one knows what sights may rivet or displease.  Mistress Ireton was sitting at her window unconscious that any one with the hated and malignant name of ‘Villiers’ was before her.  After some unholy admiration, she sent to speak to the mummer.  The duke scarcely knew whether to trust himself in the power of the bloodthirsty Ireton’s bride or not—­yet his courage—­his love of sport—­prevailed.  He visited her that evening:  no longer, however, in his jack-pudding coat, but in a rich suit, disguised with a cloak over it.  He wore still a plaster over one eye, and was much disposed to take it off, but prudence forbade; and thus he stood in the presence of the prim and saintly Bridget Ireton.  The particulars of the interview rest on his statement, and they must not, therefore, be accepted implicitly.  Mistress Ireton is said to have made advances to the handsome incognito.  What a triumph to a man like Villiers, to have intrigued with my Lord Protector’s sanctified daughter!  But she inspired him with disgust.  He saw in her the presumption and hypocrisy of her father; he hated her as Cromwell’s daughter and Ireton’s wife.  He told her, therefore, that he was a Jew, and could not by his laws become the paramour of a Christian woman.  The saintly Bridget stood amazed; she had imprudently let him into some of the most important secrets of her party.  A Jew!  It was dreadful!  But how could a person of that persuasion be so strict, so strait-laced?  She probably entertained all the horror of Jews which the Puritanical party cherished as a virtue; forgetting the lessons of toleration and liberality inculcated by Holy Writ.  She sent, however, for a certain Jewish Rabbi to converse with the stranger.  What was the Duke of Buckingham’s surprise, on visiting her one evening, to see the learned doctor armed at all points with the Talmud, and thirsting for dispute, by the side of the saintly Bridget.  He could noways meet such a body of controversy; but thought it best forthwith to set off for the Downs.  Before he departed he wrote, however, to Mistress Ireton, on the plea that she might wish to know to what tribe of Jews he belonged.  So he sent her a note written with all his native wit and point.[4]

Buckingham now experienced all the miseries that a man of expensive pleasures with a sequestrated estate is likely to endure.  One friend remained to watch over his interests in England.  This was John Traylman, a servant of his late father’s, who was left to guard the collection of pictures made by the late duke, and deposited in York House.  That collection was, in the opinion of competent judges, the third in point of value in England, being only inferior to those of Charles I. and the Earl of Arundel.