She numbered amongst her friends and acquaintance the _habitués_ of her house at Chelsea, many of the noblest names in England; the Duke of Montagu, one of her warmest admirers; Lord Godolphin, the Duke of St. Albans, Mr. Villiers, etc. Most of these gentlemen seem at a loss “où passer leurs soirées” when she is absent from London. Lady Sandwich, a kindred spirit, Lady Anne Montagu, and many other members of the English aristocracy frequented her house. This was again in accordance with the exhortations of her counsellor, for he writes soon after her flitting to Chelsea: “Tout est triste à Londres; il n’est pas de même à Chelsea. Montrez vous de temps en temps, où laissez vous voir à Chelsea.” The picture that he draws of her charms, although in the high-flown language of the period, and of his nation, does not appear over-done when we look at Mignard’s beautiful portrait, of this undoubtedly beautiful woman. Her venerable adorer bids the young beauties of England tremble, at the name of Hortense; he describes her white teeth, her mouth a lovely opening flower, her pretty dimples, her bright dark eyes, (which were sometimes a source of great suffering to her), and her luxuriant hair; and in his description he begs you not to let the modelling of her dainty ear, escape your notice. He also assures her, that it is a pity to conceal her attractions in splendid robes, for that a simple _déshabille_ becomes her best. Surely she acted on this hint, when she sate to Mignard. The titles of Madame, or Duchesse, ought not to be given her in speaking to, or of her: “Vous êtes au dessus des titres, et il me semble qu’on ôte à votre mérite tout ce qu’on donne à votre qualité.” She did not disdain to dine with St. Evremond, but he was well aware how particular she was in her tastes, and provided for her accordingly. “Le mouton de Windsor cède au mouton de Bath, c’est la décision de Hortense; Bath aura donc la préférence. Si vous voulez du fruit, apportez en; le vin j’en ai de bon.” In one of her temporary absences, at Bath, or elsewhere, he went to Chelsea, and describes how melancholy, and deserted were the house, and household, her waiting maid Isabelle, her little Moorish page, the parrot Pretty, the lap-dog Chop, and Filis the canary bird; nothing is wanting to complete this picture of the English house of Hortense, Duchesse de Mazarin, in the country, which a contemporary and a compatriot designated as “un pays hérétique, l’objet du courroux du Ciel, et de la haine des hommes.” The beautiful exile had little to complain of, in the welcome she received in this vilified country.