son to do, a pair of pistols handy, a
horse saddled, and Hounslow Heath not a hundred miles distance, he took
to the pleasant and profitable pastime of which Dick Turpin is the
patron saint. He was all but hanged for his daring robberies, but
unfortunately not quite so. He lived to suffer such indigence, that he
and another rascal had but one under-garment between them, and entered
into a compact that one should lie in bed while the other wore the
article in question. Naturally enough the two fell out in time, and the
end of Goodman--sad misnomer--was worse than his beginning: such was the
gallant whom the imperious Duchess of Cleveland vouchsafed to honour.

The life of the once beautiful Barbara Villiers grew daily more and more
depraved: at the age of thirty she retired to Paris, shunned and
disgraced. After numerous intrigues abroad and at home, she put the
crowning point to her follies by falling in love with the handsome
Fielding, when she herself numbered sixty-five summers.

Whether the Beau still thought of fortune, or whether having once tried
matrimony, he was so enchanted with it as to make it his cacoethes, does
not appear: the legend explains not for what reason he married the
antiquated beauty only three weeks after he had been united to the
supposed widow. For a time he wavered between the two, but that time was
short: the widow discovered his second marriage, claimed him, and in so
doing revealed the well-kept secret that she was not a widow; indeed,
not even the relict of John Deleau, Esq., of Whaddon, but a wretched
adventurer of the name of Mary Wadsworth, who had shared with Mrs.
Villars the plunder of the trick. The Beau tried to preserve his
dignity, and throw over his duper, but in vain. The first wife reported
the state of affairs to the second: and the duchess, who had been
shamefully treated by Master Fielding, was only too glad of an
opportunity to get rid of him. She offered Mary Wadsworth a pension of
L100 a year, and a sum of L200 in ready money, to prove the previous
marriage. The case came on, and Beau Fielding had the honour of playing
a part in a famous state trial.

With his usual impudence he undertook to defend himself at the Old
Bailey, and hatched up some old story to prove that the first wife was
married at the time of their union to one Brady; but the plea fell to
the ground, and the fine gentleman was sentenced to be burned in the
hand. His interest in certain quarters saved