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Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tiiis book is in 
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 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924086366923 
 
CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 3 1924 086 366 923 
 
In compliance with current 
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 Library produced this 
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 FROM" AN" OKIG-INAL TICTIT 
 
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THE 
 
 LETTERS AND WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 EDITED BT HER GHEAT-GBAND30N 
 
 LORD WHARNCLIFFE. 
 
 THIRD EDITION, WITH ADDITIONS AND COEBECTIONS DERIVED FROM THE 
 ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPTS, ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES, 
 
 AND A NEW MEMOIR 
 
 Bt W. mot THOMAS. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HENET G. BOHN, TOEK STEEET, COVENT GAEDEN. 
 
 MDCCCLXl. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS COERESPONDENCE. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To Lady . No date. — Hopes of a visit — Expressions of love . . 1 
 
 To the Bishop of Salisbury, July 20, 1710. — Lady Mary's translation of 
 Epictetus — Fears of not understanding her author — Education of women — 
 Atheism among ladies .......... 2 
 
 To Mrs. Anne Justice, Aug. 7. — Endeavours to make solitude agreeable — Her 
 shares in the lottery, and fears of being unlucky 5 
 
 From . No date. — Eegrets at not seeing Lady Mary .... 6 
 
 To Lady , Jan. 13, 1716. — The Marriage of Mrs. D with a curate 
 
 — Love and ecclesiastical history — The sweets of the conjugal state — 
 Philosophy and pedantry — Nature and art — Dr. Blackbeard ... 6 
 
 From Mr. James Craggs, July 25, 1720. — Insertion of Lady Mary's name in 
 the South Sea scheme subscription-list ....... 9 
 
 From Sarah Duchess of Marlborough, Sept. 25, 1722. — Death of Lord Sun- 
 derland — Uncommon misfortunes ........ 9 
 
 To the Honourable Miss Calthorpe, Dec. 7, 1723. — Lady Mary's knight- 
 errantry at an end — Lady Holdernesse and Mr. Mildmay . . .10 
 
 From Dr. Young, Feb. 1724. — Effects of cold and intemperance — Theatrical 
 literature — Determination to suppress his play . . . . .11 
 , From Lady Pembroke. No date. — Flattering testimony to Lady Mary's 
 abilities . . . 11 
 
 From the same. No date. — The art of making common circumstances agree- 
 able, and learned things inslructive . 13 
 
 From Dr. Young, March 1, 1726. — Lady Mary's present to Mr. Savage — 
 The Wycombe election 13 
 
 From the same. No date. — The justice of Lady Mary's criticism — Bubb 
 Dodington and the players ......... 13 
 
 From John Lord Hervey, Oct. 8, 1728. — The company at Bath — The Duchess 
 of Marlborough, Congreve, and Lady Rich — Pandora's box personified . 14 
 
 From the same, Oct. 28, 1728. — A speech for the Duchess of Marlborough — 
 Excuse for a dull letter — Boileau and Blackmore — Happiness of temper- 
 Manner of living at Twickenham . . . . . . . .15 
 
 To Dr. Arbuthnot, Oct. 17, 1730. — Surprising intelligence — Sincere and 
 hearty thanks — Horrid villany . .17 
 
 To the same, Oct. 1730. — Impudence of Pope — Gratification of his malice — 
 Swift 17 
 
 From Henry Fielding. No date. — A new play — Hopes of a light censure . 19 
 
 From the same, Sept. 4, 1731.— Anxieties — The play of the Modern Husband 19 
 
 a2 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 From Sarah Duchess of Marlborough, Sept. 18, 1731- — Arrangements for 
 the marriage of her granddaughter, Lady Diana Spencer, -with Lord John 
 Russell 20 
 
 To Dr. Arbuthnot, Jan. 3, 1735. — Perusal of Pope's last lampoon — The cha- 
 racter of Sappho — Pope's malice — His abuse of James Moore Smythe — 
 Congreve and Pope's rhyme ......... 20 
 
 From Lord Peterborough. No date. — Unwillingness to interfere in the quar- 
 rel between Pope and Lady Mary — Poetesses and scribblers — Mrs. Cent- 
 livre, Mrs. Havwood, Sirs. Manley, and Mrs. Behn ..... 22 
 
 To the Earl of Strafford, July 17, 173G.— A request 22 
 
 To the same, July 29, 1736.— Satisfactory result 23 
 
 LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFEET AND OTHERS. 
 1738—1762. 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, July 26, 1738.— English politics— Mists and 
 fof^s — Epidemical dulness ......... 24 
 
 To the same, 1738. — Provence and Lapland — Monsieur Chloe — Mr. "West In 
 the happy state of honeymoon ........ 25 
 
 To the same, Sept. 1738. — Marriage of Lady Betty Finch to Mr. Murray — 
 Lord To-\vns!iend and his lady — Miserable life of Lady Sundon — The fugs 
 and spleen of England .......... 26 
 
 To the same, Oct. 1738. — Lady Sophia Keppel's marringe with Captain 
 Thomas — Lady Frances Montagu and Sir Roger Burgoyne — Hard condi- 
 tion of the fair sex — Lady Hervey and the Duchess of Manchester — The 
 Duchess of Richmond at Goodwood — French strollers and the French am- 
 bassador . . . . . . , . . . . ' . 28 
 
 To the same, Oct. 1738. — Riots at Kingswood and Bristol — the king's birth- 
 day — Lady Pembroke and Lady Cowper — Gallantry at Bath — Tlte Earl of 
 Ciiestertield — The new Northern actress, Madame de Walmoden — The pro- 
 ductions of modern authors ......... 30 
 
 To the same, 1738, — The Spitalfields style of writing — News from the Island 
 of Love — The will of the Duchess of Northumberland — Lord and Lady 
 Townshend — The Tunbridge battles ....... 31 
 
 To the same, 1738. — Lady Belle Finch — Lord Morpeth at Caen — Lady Harriet 
 Herbert and Beard the singer ......... 33 
 
 To tlie same, Jan. 1739. — Lady Anne Lnmley's marriage — Its tragic de'noii- 
 ment — The candidates fur her place as lady of the bedchamber — Mrs. 
 Bridgeman — Necessity of attention to trifles — Lady Vane's liaison with 
 Lord Berkeley ........... 35 
 
 To the same, March, 1739. — Dearth of news — A debate in the House of Lords 
 —Exclusion of the fair sex — Intrepidity of the ladies — Success of the 
 Amazons ............ 37 
 
 To the same. May 2, 1739.— Thoughts of visiting Italy— Death of Lord 
 Halifax — Serious illness of Lady Stafford . . .... 39 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, July 25, 1739.— Visit to the Duchess of Montague 
 — Ariival at Dartford .......... 40 
 
 To the same, July 26, 1739. — Journey to Dover . . . . . .41 
 
 To the same, July 27, 1739. — On shipboard— Arrival at Calais . . .41 
 
 From Mr. Wortley Montagu, Aug. 13, 1739. — Conjugal solicitude . . 42 
 
 To Mr. "Wortley Montagu, -Aug. 18, 1739. — Improvement in health — State of 
 France — Safety of the roads there — The English at Dijon . . .42 
 
 From Mr. AVortley Montagu, Aug. 16, 1739. — Benefits of travelling — Pro- 
 posed journey to the north — State of the weather in England . . .43 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Sept. 10, 1739. — Passing the Alps— Meeting with 
 Lord Carlisle at Pont Beauvoisin — State of health of Lord Morpeth — Rome 
 and Venice — The Pretender — A letter from Lady Pomfret — Mr. Villette, the 
 English resident at Turin ......... 44 
 
CONTENTS. V 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To the Countess of Porafret, Sept. 11, 1739.— The Apennines— Fooliah qua- 
 rantines — Lord Lempster and Lord Fielding ...... 45 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Sept. 25, 1739.— Arrival at Venice— Restoration 
 to heaUh— The pleasures of Milan — The Great Canal atVenice . . 46 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, Oct. 10, 1739.— A serious impediment— Lawa 
 and customs of Venice — Universal liberty ...... 47 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Oct. 14, 1739. — A dinner at the Spanish ambas- 
 sador's — An agreeable general acquaintance — The Procurator Grimani and 
 the Abb^ Conti — The Signora Pisani Mocenigo . . . . .48 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, Nov. 6, 1739. — The pleasures of conversation — 
 Low prices of places of amusement — The mask and domino — The gondola . 49 
 
 To the same, Nov. or Dec. 1739. — The capriciousness of fortune — Change of 
 scene in England — Antiquarians and virtuosi ...... 50 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Dec. 11, 1739. — Repetition of civilities— Grimani 
 — Arrival of the Princess of Holstein and the Prince of Wolfenbuttel . 52 
 
 To the same, Dec. 25, 1739. — Coldness of the weather — Celebration of high 
 mass on Christmas-eve — The Electoral Prince of Saxony — Count Wacker- 
 barth — Mr. Pelham*3 misfortune ........ 53 
 
 To the same, Jan. 25, 1740. — Change in the customs of Venice — The Princess 
 of Campo Florida's assembly — Public entry of the Neapolitan ambassador 
 into Venice ............ 54 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, Feb. 17, 1740. — Severity of the winter — Carnival 
 amusements — Dr. Clarke and Lady Sundon ...... 55 
 
 To the same, Feb. 1740. — Predestination and free will— Boys and their go- 
 vernors — Men and manners — The spirit of patriotism . . . ,56 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, March 29, 1740. — Letters from her son — Enter- 
 tainments to the Prince of Saxony— Concert at the Hospital of the Incu- 
 rabili — Faustina and Cuzzoni ......... 57 
 
 To the same, April 19, 1740. — Departure of Lord Granby for Constantinople 
 — Arrival of Lord Fitzwilliam — Intimacy with the ladies of Venice — The 
 regatta . . . . . . - . . . . . .59 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, April, 1740. — Entertainments in honour of the 
 Prince of Saxony — The feast of the Ascension — Lord Scarborough and the 
 Duchess of Manchester — Visit from a Greek — Departure of Prince Beau- 
 veau and Lord Shrewsbury — Too much diversion — The force of destiny . 59 
 
 To the same, April, 1740 — Little circumstances overrule interests and in- 
 clinations — Squandering of time — The Ducliess of Manchester . . 62 
 
 To the same, May 17, 1740. — Sir Henry Englefield — State of the weather at 
 Florence and Venice — Freedom and slavery ...... 63 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, June 1, 1740. — A description of the regatta at 
 Venice ............. 64 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, June 4, 1740. — Lady Mary and her domestics — 
 The Prince of Saxony and his governor ...... .66 
 
 To the same, June, 1740. — Custom and subjection — Desire to leave Venice — 
 Solitude abroad more difficult than at home ...... 68 
 
 To the same, June 29, 1740. — Determination to visit Florence — Mr. Mackenzie 
 • — Lady Sophia Fermor and the Florentine beauties . . . . .69 
 
 To the same, July, 1740. — Impatience to visit her ladyship — Pleasures in 
 prospect ............ 69 
 
 To the same, Aug. 12, 1740. — Departure from Venice . . . . .7 
 
 To the same, Aug. 16, 1740. — Arrival at Bologna — Preparation for the 
 passage of the Apennines ......... 70 
 
 To the Countess of ■. No date. — State of the roads between Bologna and 
 
 Fierenzuola — The monastery of La Trappe — Folly the lot of humanity — ■ 
 The story of Bouthillier de Ranee — The burning mountains near Fieren- 
 zuola — The situation of Florence — Beauty and magnificence of its public 
 buildings — A visit to the gallery — The Venus de Medicis — The statues of 
 Antinous and Adrian — Raphael's cartoons — The grand-duke's collection — 
 Envy at the productions of the ancients — The wasp of Twickenham . . 70 
 
■^ CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Sept. 11, 1740— Amiability of Lord and Lady 
 Pomfret — The opera at Florence 76 
 
 To the same, Oct. 22, 1740.^Arrival at Kome — Unsociableness of Naples . 76 
 
 To the Conntess of Pomfret, Oct. 22, 1740. — Sir Francis Dashwood— Settled 
 in lodgings — Splendid ceiling painted by Zucchero — A lost letter . . 77 
 
 To Mr. "Wortley Montagu, Nov. 1, 1740. — The buildings, paintings, and an- 
 tiquities of Eome — The beauty of the weather 78 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, Nor. 11, 1740. — Stoppage of letters — Intention 
 to visit Naples — The magnificence of Eome — Mrs. D'Arcie — Arrival of the 
 Abbe Niccoliui — Lord Elcho and Lord Lincoln 78 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Nov. 12, 1740.— A statue of Antinous for sale — 
 The weather in Eome — Extraordinary reports .80 
 
 To the same, Nov. 23, 1740. — Disagreeable journey to Naples — Present state 
 of Eome — Want of specie — Paper-money for everything — Poverty of the 
 Pope's dominions — Flourishing state of Naples ...... 80 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, Nov. 25, 1740. — Purchase of a chaise — A brealj 
 down — Visit to the opera — Lady AYalpole's memoirs — Spanish honour and 
 Spanish formality . 81 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Dec. 6, 1740. — Softness of the climate — Grandeur 
 of the equipages — Observation of Spanish customs — Uncertainty of the 
 affairs of Europe ........... 83 
 
 To the same, Dec. 12, 1740. — Discovery of ruins at Portici — State of the 
 weather — Uncertainty of correspondence ....... 83 
 
 To the same, Dec. 27, 1740. — Hercolana — Difficulty of visiting it — Mount 
 Vesuvius — Spanish customs of the court — The new opera-house . . 84 
 
 To the same, Jan. 13, 1741, — Eeturn to Eome — Unsuccessful efforts to \'iew 
 the ruins of Hercolana — Prince de Zathia — Barbarity of the court — Lord 
 Strafford and Lord Lincoln — Marriage of Lady Frances Clifford to Count 
 Mahony .,...,,...... 85 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, Jan. 20, 1741. — Miscarriage of letters — News 
 from Venice — Irresolution — Intention to visit Leghorn — The Abbd 
 Niccolini ............ 86 
 
 To the same, Feb. 15, 1741. — Mr. Sturgis — Marriage of Lady Margaret 
 Hastings — Engagement of Lady Lucy Manners to Mr. Pawlet — Marriage 
 of Miss Henshaw to Captain Strickland — Prince Couteau . . . .87 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Feb. 25, 1741. — Arrival at Leghorn — The court of 
 Eome — Cardinal Valenti and the Duchess of Salviati — Tragical history of 
 the Princess Sobieski — English travellers in Eome . . ... 88 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, March 3, 1741. — Endeavours to please . . 90 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, April 11, 1741. — English politics the jest of all 
 nations— ^Spanish gold — Hatred of the people to the Spanish government 
 — A sham plot — The court of Turin — Preparations for war — Coldness of 
 the weather ............ 90 
 
 To the same, July 15, 1741. — Apprehensions for his health — Eesidence at 
 Genoa — Death of Lord Oxford ........ 92 
 
 To the same, July 29, 1741. — State of politics — Departure of Lord Lincoln 
 and Mr. Walpole 92 
 
 To the same, Aug. 15, 1741. — A letter from her son — A visit from Mr. Birtles 
 —WiU of Lord Oxford 92 
 
 To the same, Aug. 25, 1741. — Alteration in the manners of Italy — Introduc- 
 tion of French customs — Cheapness of houses — Wedding dinners . . 94 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, Oct. 2, 1741. — Visit from Lord Lempster — Lady 
 Walpole at Verona — Civilities of Geneva — Melancholy history of Mrs. 
 Goldsworthy ............ 95 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Oct. 12, 1741. — Arrival at Geneva — Character of 
 its inhabitants ,..,.,..... 97 
 
 To the same, Nov. 5, 1741. — Sharpness of the air of Geneva — Simplicity of 
 the republic — Dearness of living — Eeports of English affairs . . .97 
 
CONTENTS. VU 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Not. 30, 1741.— Landing of the Spaniards in Italy 
 — The English ministry and foreign affairs — Dulness of employ^ . .98 
 
 To the Conntess of Pomfret, Dec. 8, 1741. — Eesidence at Chambery — Peace 
 and unbounded plenty — Burgundy at a penny a quart — No coin but copper 
 — Houses built after the old English fashion 98 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Dec. 22, 1741. — Opening of letters — Sociable 
 company — Long life of the inhabitants — Eiding after the fashion of the 
 Duchess of Cleveland 100 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, March 4, 1742. — Downfal of Sir Robert Walpole 
 — Prospect of war in Italy — Death of Sir William Leman — The Marquis 
 of Beaufort and family .......... 100 
 
 From Mr. Wortley Montagu, March 22, 1742. — Advice regarding their son — 
 Domestic affliction of Lord and Lady Bute . . . . . .102 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, April 23, i742. — Eeceipt of several letters — Wil- 
 lingness to see her son — Arrival at Lyons — Eeport of the French visiting 
 Chambery — Sorrow for her daughter's loss 106 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, April 25, 1742. — Weakness and falsehood of her 
 son's conduct — Lord Carteret — The English working the mines of Savoy . 108 
 
 To the same, May 2, 1742. — A letter from her son — Comments upon his con- 
 duct — Proposal to meet him at Valence ....... 109 
 
 To the same. May 6, 1742. — Tricks of her son — His commission in the army 
 — Leaves Lyons for Avignon — The roads filled with French troops . . 110 
 
 To the same, May 23, 1742. — Letter from her son — His character uncharged 
 and unchangeable . . . . . . . . . . .111 
 
 To the same. May 30, 1742. — Answer to her son's letter — Agrees to meet him 
 at Valence 112 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, June 1, 1742. — Change of situation — The terrors 
 of war — The protection of the Holy See — Death of the Duchess of 
 Cleveland — Hostilities between the Spaniards and Sardinians — Miss Ha- 
 milton ■ 112 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, June 10, 1742. — An account of a two days' inter- 
 view with her son . 114 
 
 To the same, July 19, 1742. — The Duke of Ormond — Insignificance of his 
 residence — A letter from her son . . . . . . . .117 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, Nov. 4, 1742. — Desire for tea-table chat — The 
 Duke of Cleveland and Miss Gage — Illness of Lady Walpole — Mrs. Golds- 
 worthy and Lady Abergavenny ........ 117 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, April 24, 1743. — Infectious distemper pervading 
 Europe — Arrival of Mr. Bosville and his lady — The Duke of Berwick . 119 
 
 To the same, June 1, 1743. — Unhealthy state of London — Mrs. Bosville's visit 
 to Turin 120 
 
 To the same, Oct. 18, 1743. — Extravagance of her son — His vanity and in- 
 discretion — Lady Carlisle — Illness of the Duke of Argyll .... 120 
 
 To the same, Nov. 20, 1743.— Behaviour of her son at Montelimart . . 121 
 
 To the same, Dec 20, 1743. — A letter for her son — The Ehoue and Durance 
 — Charming prospect — Donation of a mill and grounds — Building of a 
 dome — Patching up an inscription ........ 122 
 
 To Mrs. Forster. No date. — Melancholy reflections — Poor Morel — The root 
 of all evil " 123 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Jan. 12, 1744. — Continual trouble of her son — Sir 
 J. Cope — Parental indulgence ........ 124 
 
 To the same, Feb. 17, 1744. — The nobility of Avignou^Wholesomeness of 
 the climate — Longevity of the inhabitants — The Duchess of Crillon's 
 assembly — Don Philip 125 
 
 To the same, March 25, 1744. — Imprisonment of the Protestants of Nismes 
 — Lady Mary's good offices — Interview with the Duke of Eichelieu — Satis- 
 factory result — The Pretender's party in England — Intentions of the 
 French — Letter to Sir Robert Walpole — Cold thanks . . . .126 
 
via CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOK 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, April 13, 1744. — Stoppage of the post — Indiffer- 
 ence to politics — Hostilities with France — Mrs. .Hay — Miss Frances Leve- 
 son Gower's silly match .......... 128 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagn, May 6, 1744. — Beauty of Lady Sophia Fermor — 
 Lord Carteret's choice — Agreeable employment ..... 129 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, June 1, 1744 — Accouchement of the Duchess of 
 Portland — Lady Sophia's marriage — Lady John Sackville — Impertinence 
 of Mrs. Hay 130 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montague, June 12, 1744. — Return to England of Lady 
 Mary's domestics — The government of Avignon — Don Philip — Temple to 
 Diana — Beautiful landscape ......... 131 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, Jiily 2, 1744. — Amusements conducive to health 133 
 
 To the Countess of Pomfret, July 12, 1744. — Difficulty of corresponding on 
 account of the war — Lord and Lady Carteret — Lady Charlotte Fermor — 
 Friendship in France — The rock of Douse — The Durance and Khone — 
 Lord Burlington — Marriage of Lady Mary Grey— Death of the Marquis 
 of Beaufort 134 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, Aug. 10, 1744. — Bulstrode, the seat of the Duke 
 of Portland — Marriage of Miss Evelyn Leveson Gower to Lord Gowran — 
 Death of Pope— The lottery 136 
 
 To the same, Sept. 14, 1744. — The good air of 'Welbeck — Death of Lady 
 Euston — Brutal behaviour of her husband — Pity for Lady Burlington — 
 The charming Duchess of Portland . . . . . . . .13 7 
 
 To the same, Oct. 15, 1744. — Cessation of correspondence between Dover and 
 Calais— Pope's will 138 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Oct. 29, 1744. — Illness of Lady Oxford— Letter 
 from her son — Unusual rains ......... 138 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, Oct. 29, 1744. — Letter from Mr. Wortley Mon- 
 tagu — Concern for her ladyship's health — The Bath waters — Lady Peter- 
 borough .- . 13 9 
 
 To the same, June 1, 1745. — Joy after long silence — Travelling in pursuit of 
 health — Destruction of Thoresby by fire ....... 140 
 
 To Mr. "Wortley Montagu, June 8, 1745. — Carelessness of Lord Oxford re- 
 specting his collection of manuscripts — The Harleian MSS. in the British 
 Museum — Downfal of Lord Granville ....... 141 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, July 25, 1745. — Agreeableness of her ladyship's 
 letters — The good effects of change of air and exercise — The battle of Fon- 
 tenoy — Successes of the French in Flanders — The Duke of Kingston's 
 losjes by fire 142 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Jan. 10, 1746. — Miss Fielding's works — The 
 waters of Pyrmont — Interruption of correspondence — Impatient to leave 
 Avignon on account of the war — Her plate and jewels — -The Duke of Riche- 
 lieu and court promises .142 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, Feb. 7, 1746. — Uneasiness at her ladyship's 
 silence — The late Duke of Ormond's household — Certificate of good be- 
 haviour to one of his servants — A letter sent by him .... 144 
 
 To the same, Feb. 15, 1746. — Miscarriage of letters — Proofs of friendship — 
 
 The late Duke of Ormond's affairs — Hatred of injustice .... 144 
 To the same, April 11, 1746. — Delays of the post — General wish for peace — 
 The late Duke of Ormond's servant — Doubtful fate of the letter sent by 
 
 him 146 
 
 To the same, June 3, 1746. — Gratitude for past favours — Stoppage and open- 
 ing of letters — Marriage of the Duchess of Manchester — Invmdation in 
 Avignon ............ 146 
 
 To the same, July 20, 1746. — The late Duke of Ormond's servant and Lord 
 Arran — Bad eyesight .......... 147 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Aug. 23, 1746. — Leaves Avignon — Scotch and 
 Irish rebels there — Return to Italj — Assumption of the character of a Ve- 
 netian lady — Count Palazzo — The Spanish army and Don Philip — The 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 PAOK 
 
 town of Scravalli — Difficulty of finding lodgings— Flight of the governor — 
 Entry of the victorious Germans — Visit from the Prince of Badin Dour- 
 lach and the principal officers — Delay from want of post-horses — The town 
 of Vogherra — An escort of hussars — Arrival at Brescia — Improvement in 
 
 health 148 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Nov. 24, 1746. — Severe attack of fever — Kindness 
 of the Countess of Palazzo — Milk diet — Lady Bristol . . . .150 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, March 1, 1747. — Convalescence — Death of Mrs. 
 Stanton — Terrible effects of arbitrary government — Dearness of provisions 
 — The carnival . . . . . . . . . . .151 
 
 To the same, July 1, 1747. — Pleasures of friendship — Marriage of Lord Coke 
 
 to Lady Mary Campbell 162 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, July 24, 1747. — Romantic beauty of Lovere — Re- 
 semblance to Tunbridge Wells — -The opera — Freedoms of the place — Diver- 
 sions on the water — Excellence of the provisions — Appointment of Sir 
 James Gray as Minister at Venice — Lord Holdernesse .... 163 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, Sept. 1, 1747. — Assurances of affection — Advan- 
 tages of air and quiet — Success as a physician ...... 155 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Dec. 17, 1747. — Letter from Lady Oxford — Con- 
 gratulations on tbe birth of a son — Decay of sight — Playing for a penny a 
 corner — Rural amusements — Dearth of news — Sir Francis Dashwood's 
 marriage ............ 156 
 
 To the same, Jan. 5, 1748. — Only two sorts of people in the world — Happi- 
 ness of youth the ignorance of evil — Removal from tbe world — Society in 
 England a hundred years ago— Visit from thirty horse of ladies — Expensive 
 hospitality — Great diversion ......... 157 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Feb. 2, 1748.— Conduct of the Duchess of Man- 
 chester — An ode on Charles Churchill — Sir Charles Hanbury Williams — 
 Mr. Dodington and the late Duchess of Argyll — Winter and spring — The 
 new opera at Brescia .......... 158 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Feb. 3, 1748.— Pity for the Duchess of Devonshire 
 — Lady Thanet's behaviour — Lady Burlington's choice for her daughter — ■ 
 Lord Hartington's fitness for matrimony — The carnival at Brescia — A visit 
 in masquerade ........... 160 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, April 24, 1748.— Sir Charles Hanbury Williams's 
 
 poetry — Tar-water and Ward's drops — Infatuation for universal medicines 
 
 ^ — Credulity of mankind — Miracles and relics, recipes and physicians — 
 
 Soul verszis body — Lord Sandwich — Lord and Lady Bute — Sir Robert 
 
 Walpole's maxim — An Irish conquest at Avignon ..... 161 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, April 27, 1748.— Letter from Lady Bute— The 
 
 Duchess of Portland and family — Irregularity of the post . . . 162 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, May 10, 1748. — Public calamities and the pleasures 
 of the town — Young's tragedy of the " Revenge" — Private theatricals — 
 Petition to erect a theatre in Lady Mary's saloon — Surprising performances 
 — Farming affairs ........... 163 
 
 To the same, July 10, 1748. — Lady Mary's farm-house — Description of the 
 place — Italian and French vineyards — A rustic garden — Manner of life — 
 Enjoyment of retirement ......... 165 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, July 17, 1748. — Vexation at the miscarriage of 
 letters — Satisfaction at her daughter's conduct — Intimacy with people of 
 different opinions — The Duchesses of Marlborough and Montague — Lord 
 Bute's love for his wife — The Princess of Wales — Cultivation of the tea- 
 plant ............. 167 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, July 26, 1748. — Lady Mary's fondness for her 
 farm — Gardening the next amusement to reading — Advantages of inter- 
 course with the Prince and Princess of Wales . . . . • .169 
 
 To the same, Sept. 1748. — Natural wants — Artificial necessities — The folly 
 of war — Departure of Sir James Gray — Compliments to Lady Rich — Igno- 
 rance of English affairs — Expectation of a letter from her granddaughter . 170 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOE 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, Nov. 29, 1748. — Joy at hearing from her ladyship 
 — The Duchess of Portland's affection — A shell of a palace . . . 171 
 
 To Mr. "Wortley Montagu, Dec. 25, 1748. — Eegulation of correspondence — 
 Extraordinary visit from the Duchess of Guastalla — Her treaty of mar- 
 riage with the King of Sardinia — Lady Mary's fame for gardening — Signor 
 Gonzagna 172 
 
 To the Conntess of Oxford, Feb. 2, 1749.— Eclief from great anxiety — Yaried 
 amusements — The new court of Parma . . . -. . . • 174 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Feb. 19, 1749.— Thoughts on the education of 
 children — Vices oftea hid under the name of virtues — Test of sincerity — 
 Moderation of fondness for children— Preparation for disappointments — 
 False notions of mothers — Lady Frances Meadows — The Duchess of Marl- 
 borough's Memoirs — Lord Chesterfield's "Apology for a late Resignation" 174 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, March 6, 1749. — The only safe method of corre- 
 sponding — Mildness of the winter — Fear of wanting ice in the summer — 
 Malignant fevers — Method of paying physicians — Fortunes made by doc- 
 tors in England — Sir Charles Wyndham . 177 
 
 To the same, April 24, 1749. — An inscription in the old church of Gottolengo 
 — Antiquity of its foundation — History of the place— Don Philip's entry 
 into Parma ............ 178 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, April 2G, 1749. — Fits of ague— State of the 
 weather — The Princess of Wales — The Duchess of Portland . . . 180 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, May 7, 1749. — Congratulations on the birth of her 
 fourth daughter — Amusements in retirement — Colin Campbell's book of 
 Architecture — Kebuilding of Thoresby ....... 180 
 
 To the same. May 27, 1749. — The marriage of Mr. Mackenzie — Generosity 
 and prudence of the Duchess of Argyll — Interested matches generally un- 
 fortunate — A melancholy spring — The new-fashioned game of brag — The 
 rage for play 181 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, July 14, 1749. — ^Interruption of correspondence — 
 The Sanitk — Fictitious quarantines — Lord Bolingbroke's book — Opinion of 
 his writings — The inundations of the rivers 183 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, Aug. 20, 1749. — The waters of Lovere — Caenwood 
 House, Hampstead — Love of retirement ....... 183 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Aug. 22, 1749. — The fair of Bergamo — The Duchess 
 of Portland and Lady Middlesex — Lord Bute's improvements round Caen- 
 wood House — The fame of English paper-hangings ..... 1§4 
 
 To the same, Oct. 1, 1749. — Fondness for reading — Fielding's "Joseph An- 
 drews " — Lady Mary's domestics— Improvement in health . . . 185 
 
 To the same, Nov. 30, 1749. — An agreeable letter — Signora Laura Bono — 
 Making love extempore — Critical situation — Discretion of Lady Laura's 
 chambermaid 187 
 
 To the Countess of Oxford, March 2, 1750. — Freedom from illness — Mis- 
 fortunes of the family — The late Duchess of Marlborough . . . 191 
 
 To the same. May 24, 1750. — Severe illness — Marriage of Lady N. Pawlet . 193 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, May 28, 1750. — Anxiety for her daughter's con- 
 stitution — The rage for play 193 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, June 22, 1750. — -Sir John Eawdon's advancement 
 — Irish patents and Monmouth-street finery — Sir John's unlimited com- 
 plaisance — A distinction without a difference — Mademoiselle de la Touche 
 — Hot weather 194 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Sept. 3, 1750.— The post in Italy— Discovery of 
 a remarkable piece of antiquity .196 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Oct. 17, 1750. — A great rambler — Residence at 
 Salo — Magnificence of the palace — Variety of prospects, and beauty of the 
 scenery — Colossal statues of Venus, Hercules, and Apollo — Salo unknown 
 to English travellers — A visit from Count Martinenghi — The Duke of 
 Mantua's delightful retreat at Madema — Sarah Fielding's works — Extra- 
 ordinary success of "Pamela" 197 
 
CONTENTS. XI 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Nov. 20, 1750. — Opening of letters— Differences 
 ■with the Church — Lord Bate's good fortune ...... 200 
 
 To the Countess of Bate, Dec. 24, 1750. — Taste for light reading— Her hus- 
 band's health — The Duchess of Montague's misfortune — Age and ugliness 
 as inseparable as heat and fire — Philosophy of the Princess of Moldavia . 201 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Feb. 11, 1751. — Impassability of the roads on 
 account of the snow — The tradition in Herodotus — Two months' confine- 
 ment withia doors 202 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, March 2, 1761. — Interruption of correspondence — 
 Mr. Anderson and his pupil — Melancholy reflections — Thoughts of being 
 an old woman — Pleasures for every state . 203 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montague, May 24, 1751. — Desire for nevfs of her son — 
 Anxiety from doubt — Continuation of good spirits- — A prisoner on account 
 of the weather — Hearing and memory unimpaired — Freedom from head- 
 ache 204 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, June 19, 1751. — Fondness for baubles — Lady Orford 
 a joyful widow — News of the world an amusement in solitude — Insensi- 
 bility and ingratitude — Proposed statue to Lady Mary — Reasons for declin- 
 ing the honour — Introduction of English housewifery — Death of Fre- 
 derick Prince of Wales .205 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, June 20, 1751. — Lady Orford's folly— Her cha- 
 racter — Invitation to a meeting of free-thinkers — Introduction of tar-water 
 into Italy — Its only merit — The Roman law concerning last testaments — 
 Tenderness for her daughter 207 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, July 23, 1751.— Regret for the Duchess of Mon- 
 tague — Lady Orford's marriage with Mr. Shirley — Mortifications of ladies 
 of pleasure — Return of a distemper — Benefits of the waters of Lovere — Dis- 
 agreeableness of a journey thither — The waters at Islington . . . 208 
 
 To the same, Nov. 1, 1751. — Congratulations on her safe delivery of a son — 
 Fears for Wortley Montagu's health — Parental love .... 209 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Nov. 10, 1752.— The air of Hungary— The old 
 woman of Lovere . . . . . . . . . . .210 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Deo. 8, 1751. — Wrong notions concerning Italy — 
 The tour of Europe — Laws, customs, and manners of Italy — Liberty of the 
 Italian women — Divorce in Genoa . . . . . . . .212 
 
 To the same. No date. — Concern for her health — The influence of the nur- 
 sery — Advice for the management of a family — Ignorance and idleness the 
 fountains of vice . 214 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Jan. 29, 1752. — The use of Turkish wheat— Health 
 and manners of the Continent — Mortality in Brescia and London con- 
 trasted 216 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Feb. 16, 1752.— Smollett's " Peregrine Pickle" — 
 Lady Vane's Memoirs — Her two marriages — Good fortune otMr. Shirley — 
 " The Parish Girl" and " Pompey the Little" — A wise physician — Daily 
 diet — "Leonora" — The Life of Mrs. Philips 21G 
 
 To the same, March 1, 1752. — " The Adventures of Mr. Loveill" — Sir John 
 Rawdon — " Memoirs of Harriet Stuart" — Lady Belle Finch — Misfortunes 
 of court interest — " The Life and Adventures of Joe Thompson" — Mis- 
 chievous tendency of " Clarissa Harlowe" and " Pamela" — A guess at the 
 author of " Roderick Random" .220 
 
 To the same. No date. — Condolence on her afiiiction — Uselessness of grief — 
 Remembrance of the dead — Taste for reading . . . . . .223 
 
 To the same, Jan. 28, 1753. — The knowledge of arithmetic — Admiral Sand- 
 wich — Wise William — The Duke of Argyll — Woman's education — Errors 
 of young people — The use of learning for females — Ridiculous women — 
 Hazards of matrimony 224 
 
 To the same, March 6, 1753. — The power of study — The effects of an ig- 
 norant education — Earl Stanhope — Idleness the mother of mischief — 
 Woman's rights — Advice regarding the education of her grandchildren . 229 
 
XU CONTENTS. 
 
 TAGB 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, March 16, 1753.— The death of the Doge of Venice 
 — His amiable character — London and Italian fashions . . . • 231 
 
 To the same, April 2, 1763. — The Duke of Kingston — Episcopal education 
 of Prince George — Concern for her native country — Church and State • 233 
 
 To the same, June 3, 1753. — Differences of opinion — The English at Kome — 
 The Abbe' Grant — Lady Charlotte de Eoussi — The study of simples — Mis- 
 carriage of letters ........... 234 
 
 To the same, July 23, 1753.— Death of Lady Carolina Brand — The manners 
 of the times — Untimely death of Lord Cornbury — The Ducliess of Queens- 
 berry ............. 236 
 
 To the same, Sept. 10, 1753. — Opinion of Lord Bute's character — First ideas 
 the best — Miss Pitt — Lady Ferrers and her daughter-in-law . . . 23D 
 
 To the same, Oct. 10, 1753. — The Cardinal Querini — Vexation and mortifica- 
 tion — A lady-professor of mathematics in the University of Bologna — The 
 burden of authority — English notions — Vulgar prejudices . . - 240 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Oct. 10, 1753. — Interruption of correspondence — 
 Discovery of its cause — Domestic affairs ....... 243 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Nov. 27, 1753. — Reformed London — Scandal re- 
 duced to a whisper — Parties at an end — English housewifery . . . 244 
 
 To the same. No date. — Visit to a nunnery — An agreeable community . 245 
 
 To the same, April 28, 1754. — Vexation — Delays of the post — The Duke of 
 Newcastle — Death of Mr. Pelham ........ 247 
 
 To the same, June 23, 1754. — Dangerous illness — Removal to Lovere — Sur- 
 prising cure — Character of her doctor — The Guelphs and Ghibelines — De- 
 scription of Lovere — Purchase of a residence — Lord Orrery's " Remarks on 
 the Life and Writings of Swift" — The Dean's love of flatterj' — Dr. Thomas 
 Sheridan — Comfort of religion — Character of Swift — Pope's love of money 
 — Lord Orrery's family . . . . . , . . . .248 
 
 To the same, July 20, 1754. — Lord Bolingbroke — The peace of Utrecht — 
 Removal of the Duke of Marlborough from the head of the army — Peace 
 ■with France — Madame de Sevign^ — Tillotson and Addison — Bolingbroke, 
 Swift, and Pope — The character of Atticus ...... 256 
 
 To the same, July 22, 1754. — The Cardinal Querini — His vanity — Mankind 
 everi'Tvhere the same — A mother's fondness — Precepts and practice . . 259 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Dec. 8, 1754. — An Italian Pamela — History of the 
 adventure — The Duchess of Bolton — Lavinia Fenton, the Folly of the 
 "Begg<ir's Opera" 262 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Dec. 19, 1754. — The writings of Lord Bolingbroke 
 ■ — Mr. Bayle — Success of Lord Orrery's extraordinary work — Death of the 
 Duke and Duchess of Bolton 268 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Jan. 1, 1755. — Compliments of the season — Mar- 
 riage of Lady Henrietta Wentworth — Smollett's translations — Church not 
 the place to make love in ......... 269 
 
 To the same, Jan. 23, 1755. — Instruction and amusement — Death of the Earl 
 of Drumlanrig — Dependency of mankind — Death of Cardinal Querini — His 
 charitable bequests — Statues to his honour ...... 271 
 
 To the same, March 1, 1755. — Pity for Lady Mary Coke — Excuse for Lord 
 Cornbury — The Duchess of Queensberi-j' — Lady Essex's resemblance to 
 Lord Clarendon — Love of flattery ........ 273 
 
 To the same, April 15, 1755. — Death of Lord Gower — Lord Montfort and 
 Lord Hertford — Miscarriage of letters — The Duchess of Manchester — Gay 
 and bis Laura — Congratulations on the birth of another son . . . 274 
 
 To the same, July 24, 1755. — Death of the Marquis Maffei — His tragedy 
 of " Merope," and his comedy of the " Ceremonies" — The Veronese nobility 
 — Their amusements .......... 277 
 
 To the same, Aug. 23, 1765. — ''The Rambler" a misnomer — Fielding's pic- 
 ture of himself and his first wife in the characters of Mr. and Mrs. Booth — 
 Hia humour and genius — Sarah Fielding's improvement in style — The 
 
CONTENTS. xni 
 
 PAGE 
 
 English Sappho — Originality oP Congreve and Fielding — Sage counsel — 
 The senseless tale of Henry and Emma ....... 279 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Sept. 22, 1756. — Death of Fielding— Similitude be- 
 tween him and Sir Richard Steele — " The Cry" and the ** Art of Tormenting" 
 ■ — A desire for Fielding's posthumous works — Pleasure of new story-books — 
 Grotesque figures in the " Stage Coach" — Conjugal happiness of the Duke 
 of Bedford — Pinchbeck's watches — Parson Adams in another profession — 
 Richardson a strange fellow ......... 282 
 
 To the same, Oct. 20, 1755. — Richardson's novel of "Sir Charles Grandison" 
 — Lucian and Plutarch — Controversial disputes — Criticism on Richardson's 
 works — Lord Denbigh and Lord Trentham — Richardson's project for an 
 English monastery ........... 285 
 
 To the same, Nov. 2, 1755. — Friendship of the Duke and Duchess of Portland 
 — Lady Dalkeith and Mr. Townshend — Lady Mary Coke's bitter experience 
 — Present for Lady Jane Stuart ........ 292 
 
 To the same, March 22, 1756. — Value of anj'thing from England — Lady Ox- 
 ford's legacy — An Italian adventure — The Marchionness Lyscinnia Benti- 
 voglio and her husband — Richardson's heroines ..... 293 
 
 To the same, April 1, 1756. — Politics in England — Miss Crawley's fortune — • 
 Debtor and Creditor in Italy — Mrs. Dunch's pension .... 296 
 
 To the same, May 19, 1756. — Mr. Prescot'a punctiliousness — An enlightened 
 age — The knowledge of mankind — The tribe of Clarissas and Harriets — 
 Earthquake panic ........... 298 
 
 To the same. May 30, 1756. — Death of Sir William Lowther— Ingratitude of 
 mankind ............ 299 
 
 To the same, Nov. 23, 1756. — Congratulations — Interest of prince and people 
 — Mr. Cunningham and his lady ........ 301 
 
 To the same, Dec. 28, 1756. — English merchandise at Venice — Beautiful fur- 
 niture — Court life — The affair of Minorca — Admiral Byng and Captain 
 Cunningham — General Blakeney ........ 302 
 
 From Mr. Wortley Montagu, Jan. 4, 1757. — Method taken for the safe de- 
 livery of letters — Lord Bute and the Prince of Wales — The King of France 
 and the Empress of Germany ......... 303 
 
 To the Counters of Bute, April 3, 1757. — Lodgings in Venice — Taste for 
 baubles — General Graham's health — Desire for new books — Lord Rose- 
 berry .... 305 
 
 To the same. May 30, 1757. — English travellers in Venice — Unavoidable 
 visits — Love of solitude — Queen Elizabeth's maxims — Mr. Villette . . 306 
 
 To the same, July 7, 1757. — Uneasiness and apprehensions — Accident to Mr. 
 Archer — Paternal care of Mr. Anderson — Sir Charles Hanbury Williams 
 — True and false felicity — Human vanity — Frugality the foundation of 
 generosity — The odious title of conqueror ...... 307 
 
 To the same, Sept. 30, 1757. — The Duchess of Marlborough's will — Active 
 scenes of life— The pleasures of second childhood — Forgetfulness of infir- 
 mities ....... 310 
 
 To the same, Oct. 8, 1757. — Mr. Prescot and Lady Oxford's legacy — Dis- 
 agreeable reflexion of the looking-glass — Pleasing amusements good for 
 the health 311 
 
 To the same, Oct. 9, 1757. — Breakfast with Lord Roseberry — Mr. Greville 
 and his curious book — The Earl of Chatham's probity and understanding — 
 The Duke of Kingston's hunting-seat at Thoresby — Family prejudices . 312 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Nov. 12, 1757. — News of her husband's indisposi- 
 tion — Experiments of physicians — The waters of Tunbridge . . . 314 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Jan. 20, 1758. — Political airs of the resident — Visit 
 from Mr. Robert Adam, the architect — A compound ministry . . . 314 
 
 To the same, Feb. 21, 1768. — Infirmities of age — Disobliging conduct of the 
 resident — Mistaken for a politician ........ 315 
 
 To the same, May 3, 1758.— Delays of the post — Mr. Hamilton — Illness of 
 
XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 General Graham — Extraordinary weather — The ceremony of the Ascension 
 
 — Magnificent weddings — Lord Mandeville • 316 
 
 To the Comitess of Bute, May 13, 1758. — Malice and persecution of the resi- 
 dent — Arrival of Sir James Steuart and lady — " The World" essay paper — 
 Lord Chesterfield and Horace Walpole — ^Marriage of Mr. Smith, the consul 
 at Venice — Lord Holdemesse . .317 
 
 To Sir James and Lady Frances Steuart, May, 1758. — Impositions upon the 
 English — The " Golden Asses" — Baron Talmua — The puns of Swift and 
 Pope 320 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, May 29, 1758.— Mr. Law and Mr. Oliver — Mr. 
 Murray's persecution — Retirement to Padua ...... 321 
 
 To Sir James and Lady Frances Steuart. No date. — Predestination — Philoso- 
 phers, ancient and modern . . 322 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, July 4, 1758. — Short-sightedness of human pru- 
 dence — Lady Selina Bathurst — Building castles in the air ... 323 
 
 To the same, July 14, 1758. — Agreeable news — State of parties — Indifference 
 to politics — Reputations of Swift and Bishop Burnet — Sir WjTidham 
 Knatchbull and his governor — Nomination of Mr. Maclsenzie to Turin — 
 Lord Bristol — Horace Walpole's works ....... 324 
 
 To the same, July 29, 1758. — Amiability of Lady Mackenzie — Death of Pope 
 Benedict XIV. — Election of Clement XIII. — Civilities from the late Pope 
 — The Czar Peter — Lady Irwin's conversation — The Duke of Kingston's 
 guardian 327 
 
 To the same, Aug. 21, 1758. — Lukewarmness of the English — The Cavalier 
 Antonio Mocenigo and Signer Zeno — Invitation to a wedding — Marriage 
 customs ............. S29 
 
 To Lady Frances Steuart, Sept. 4, 1758. — Melancholy ideas — Suffocating heat 
 — High spirits — Austerities of court life — Rusticity of manners . . 331 
 
 To Sir James Steuart, Sept. 5, 1758. — Sorrow for the illness of Lady Frances 
 — Hysterical complaints — Lady Stair — Dr. Sydenham, the English Hippo- 
 crates — Woman's weakness — Acquaintance with the Pope's family — Death 
 of his father and mother — Quarrelling with Fortune — The dignity of a poet 332 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Sept. 5, 1758. — Melancholy joy — Infancy and age 
 — Comfort in exile — Lord Feversham and his young wife — Lord Ranelagh 
 — Generosity of Signer Antouio^A visit from General Graham and Mr. 
 Hamilton — High estitoation of china in Padua ..... 335 
 
 To Mr. Wortiey Montagu, Sept. 16, 1758.— Letter of congratulation — Lord 
 Bute's good character — Money in the hands of a fool .... 337 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Oct 1, 1758. — Fear for the miscarriage of letters — 
 Historj' of her own time — Diversion of solitary hours .... 338 
 
 To the same, Oct. 3, 1758. — Fine ladies — Smollett's romances — Shebbeare's 
 filthy politics — Visit from Lord Brudenell — General Graham and Colonel 
 Hamilton 339 
 
 To Lady Frances Steuart, Oct. 5, 1768. — Joy at her recovery from illness — 
 Death of the Hon. George Stewart — Rejoicings on the Pope's elevation — 
 Return of Sir James Steuart's disorder — Benefits of a warm climate . . 340 
 
 To Sir James Steuart, Oct. 13, 1768.— The critic and the friend— Absurd 
 customs of the Moravians — The Demon of Poesie ..... 342 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Oct. 31, 1758.— Death of Lord Carlisle— Horace 
 Walpole's character of Queen Elizabeth — Death of the Patriarch — Old 
 wives' tales ............ 343 
 
 To the same, Nov. 8, 1758. — A fair and foolish family — Colonel Otway and 
 Lord Mandeville — Defamation of character — Lady Delawarr — Dodsley's 
 Collection of Poems . 345 
 
 To Sir James Steuart, Nov. 14, 1758. — Mysteries of the Talmud— Repeal of 
 the Witch Act — Making the best of a bad bargain — The Bishop of Cloyne's 
 metaphysics ............ 345 
 
 To the same, Nov. 27, 1758. — Death of the Duke of Marlborough— News- 
 paper panegyrics — News from England 348 
 
CONTENTS. XV 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Dec. 5, 1758. — ^Vexation at Dodsley's impudence — 
 An agreeable English family — Arrival ofMr. Mackenzie at Turin — Venice 
 a retreat for old age ......•.,. , 351 
 
 To the same, Dec. 31, 1768. — The Earl of Northampton — Dinner at General 
 Graham's — Defectiveness of books of travel ...... 352 
 
 To Sir James Steuart, Jan. 13, 1759. — Day-dreams of happiness— Alexander 
 and Demosthenes — The queen of clubs and the knave of hearts — True 
 philosophy 353 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Jan. 24, 1759. — Joy at hearing from her husband 
 — Warmth of the season . . . . . . . . . 3 54 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, April 11, 1769. — Congratulations to the Duke and 
 Duchess of Portland on the marriage of Lady Elizabeth Bentinck — Per- 
 secution of Sir Wyndham KnatchbuU and his governor — A rake in read- 
 ing — All excesses blamable 354 
 
 To Sir James Steuart, May 4, 1759. — Juvenile dissipations of Mr. Steuart — 
 The fashion of suicide in Italy — Necessity of employment for the mind — 
 The principles of political economy ........ 35G 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, May 22, 1759. — Death of Lord Leicester — Building, 
 the weakness of old people — Vexations at Venice — Parting of Sir Wynd- 
 ham KnatchbuU and his governor ...,..,, 357 
 
 To the same, June 24, 1759. — The dishabille of the Venetian ladies — Lady 
 Waldegrave's good fortune— Arrival of Lord Fordwich — Lord Brudenell — 
 Invitation to General Graham — A visit from Mr. Hamilton . , . 359 
 
 To Sir James Steuart, July 19, 1759. — The Margrave of Baden Dourlach— 
 The tittle-tattle of Madame de S(Jvigne — Straws upon the water — An 
 amanuensis— Fear of blindness — Whitfield's pathetic lectures — A conversa- 
 tion — Smollett's Life of Lady Vane — Lord Viscount Bolingbroke's Gal- 
 licisms — Algarotti and Valsinura — Heroes, ancient and modem — Pindar 
 and Homer ............ 361 
 
 To.the Countess of Bute, Aug. 10, 1759. — Tears of joy — Venice regatta — 
 Lord Bute — Sir James and Lady Frances Steuart — A select circle of 
 friends . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3G7 
 
 To the same, Sept. 26, 1759. — Excessive heat— Invitation to a wedding — 
 Mr. Ferguson's reputation and fortune — Personal appearance of Mr. 
 Southwell 368 
 
 To the same, Nov. 9, 1759. — Bear and forbear — Death of General Wolfe — 
 Disappointments of youth — Lady Frances Erskine — Adventures of the 
 Three Graces in London 369 
 
 To Mr. Wortley Montagu, Nov. 23, 1759.— Swift's history of the last years 
 of Queen Anne — A delightful autumn . 370 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, No date. — Bad state of health of Lord Brudenell 
 — The pleasures of carnival time — Mr. Mackenzie at Turin — Proposed 
 jaunt to the Tyrol 371 
 
 To the same, Jan. 1760. — Wet weather during the carnival — Departure of 
 Mr. Southwell — Lord Brudenell on his way to England — Rome filled with 
 Britons — Happiness of the Duchess of Portland in her son-in-law — Defeat 
 of the French fleet — Bad state of health of General Graham . . . 372 
 
 To Sir James Steuart, Feb. 13, 1760. — An obliging and agreeable letter — 
 Interest in Sir James's aifairs — Salutary air of Venice — Dearth of books 
 from England 373 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Feb. 24, 1760. — Lady Louisa Kerr's flight — Diver- 
 sions at the carnival — The English in Italy — Lady Blount's circumstances 374 
 
 To Sir James Steuart, March 1, 1760. — Valuable and magnificent present — 
 Flattering opinion of his essay on " Political Economy" — Solidity of his re- 
 flections 375 
 
 To the same, April 7, 1760. — Pleasures of a re-perusal of his treatise — 
 Locke's dissection of the human mind ....... 377 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, April 25, 1760. — General Graham in London — 
 Weakness of humanity — Inclination to low spirits 378 
 
XVI CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, May 9, 1760. — Uneasiness at General Graham's 
 silence — Qu^et retirement at Venice — Political reasons for the resident's 
 conduct .. 4 ........ . . 379 
 
 To the same, Nov. 18, 1760. -Death of George the Second — Sir James 
 Steuart and the Act of Indemnity — Precarious health — General Graham's 
 infirmities . 379 
 
 To Sir James Steuart, Nov. 20, 1760.— Solicitude in his affairs . . . 380 
 
 To the Countess of Bute, Nov. 26, 1760. — Accession of George the Third — 
 Procurators Contarini and Morosini appointed ambassadors on the occasion 
 — Ridiculous conduct of Madame Capello in London and Eome— Declining 
 health of General Graham — Mr. Hamilton at St. Petersburg . . . 381 
 
 To Sir James Steuart, Jan 25, 1761. — Severe cold, and weakness of sight — 
 Difference of opinion regarding the civil list — Character of the young king 
 . — Prospects of prosperity and harmony — Hopes of Sir James's return tj 
 bis native country ........... 381 
 
 To the same, April 12, 1761. — No happiness without alloy — Hopes and fears 
 — Unwillingness to return to London — Common sense .... 383 
 
 To the same, July 22, 1761. — Indiscreet well-wishers — The spirit of old 
 Whiggism — Facetiousness of Giles Earle . ...... 384 
 
 To Sir James and Lady Frances Steuart, Oct. 1, 1761. — Departure for England 385 
 
 To Sir James Steuart, Nov. 20, 1761. — Arrival at Rotterdam — Wind and 
 tide — His Majesty of Prussia — Severe illness of a domestic — Maternal 
 fondness ............. 385 
 
 To the same, Dec. 12, 1761. — Detention at Rotterdam on account of the frost 386 
 
 To Lady Frances Steuart, Dec. 1761. — Excuses for a short letter — Dependence 
 on wind and weather .......... 387 
 
 To Sir James Steuart, Dec. 26, 1761. — Signs of Departure — Mr. Hamilton's 
 expectations of an act of grace — Prosperity of her family — Hopes of seeing 
 Sir James in London — Effects of the climate — The compliments of the 
 season . 387 
 
 To Lady Frances Steuart, Jan. 2, 1762. — Delays and disappointments — Good 
 will towards the Steuart family — Mr. Hamilton's pardon — Indiscretion of 
 Mr. Duff 388 
 
 To the same, March 5, 1762. — Miscarriage of letters — The calamities of war 
 — Innocent correspondence ......... 389 
 
 To the same, April 23, 1762. — Interest in the Steuart familj-'s affairs . . 390 
 
 To the same, July 2, 1762. — Declining health — Her heart in Sir James 
 Steuart's service . . . . .390 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. 
 
 Translation of the Enchiridion of Epictetus . . . . .391 
 
 EssATS 413 
 
 Poems ............. 429 
 
 General Index .......... 505 
 
THE LETTEES AND WOEKS 
 
 LAM MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE.! 
 
 TO LADY 
 
 Having (like other undeserving people) a vast opinion of 
 my own merits, and some small faith in your sincerity, I be- 
 lieved it impossible you should forget me, and therefore very 
 impudently expected a long letter from you this morning ; but 
 Heaven, which you know delights in abasing the proud, has, 
 I find, decreed no such thing ; and, notwithstanding my vanity 
 and your vows, I begin to fancy myself forgotten ; and this 
 ' epistle comes, in humble manner, to kiss your hands, and 
 petition for the scanty alms of one little visit, though never so 
 short : pray, madam, for God's sake, have pity on a poor pri- 
 soner — one little visit — so may God send you a fine husband, 
 continuance of beauty, &c. ; but if you deny my request, and 
 make a Jest of my tenderness (which, between friends, I do 
 
 think a little upon the ridiculous), I do vow never to ; 
 
 but I had better not vow, for I shall certainly love you, do 
 
 ^ The letters in this section, except where otherwise stated in notes, are printed 
 from the originals among the Wortley papers. — T. 
 
 2 I have not found the original of this letter. There is nothing to show to whom 
 it wag addressed — T. 
 
 VOL. II. B 
 
'■I . MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 what you will — though I beg you would not tell some certain 
 people of that fond expression, who will infallibly advise you 
 to follow the abominable maxims of, no answer, ill-treatment, 
 and so forth, not considering that such conduct is full as base 
 as beating a poor wretch who has his hands tied ; and mercy 
 to the distressed is a mark of divine goodness. Upon which 
 Godly consideration I hope you will afford a small visit to your 
 disconsolate. 
 
 TO THE BISHOP OF SALISBURY. 
 
 [with her translation of epiotetus.] 
 
 July 20, 1710.> 
 
 My Lord, — Your hours are so well employed, I hardly 
 dare offer you this trifle to look over ; but then, so well am I 
 acquainted with that sweetness of temper which accompanies 
 your learning, I dare ever assure myself of a pardon. You 
 have already forgiven me greater impertinences, and conde- 
 scended yet further in giving me instructions, and bestowing 
 some of your minutes in teaching me. This surprising 
 humility has all the effect it ought to have on my heart; 
 I am sensible of the gratitude I owe to so much goodness, and 
 how much I am ever bound to be your servant. Here is the 
 work of one week of my soHtude — ^by the many faults in it 
 your lordship wiU easily believe I spent no more time upon 
 it ; it was hardly finished when I was obliged to begin my 
 journey, and I had not leisure to write it over again. You 
 have it here without any corrections, with all its blots and 
 errors ; I endeavoured at no beauty of style, but to keep as 
 literally as I could to the sense of the author. My only in- 
 tention, in presenting it, is to ask your lordship whether I 
 have understood Epictetus ? The fourth chapter, particularly, 
 I am afraid I have mistaken. Piety and greatness of soul set 
 you above all misfortunes that can happen to yourself, and 
 the calumnies of false tongues ; but that same piety which 
 renders what happens to yourself indifferent to you, yet softens 
 
 ' So in Dallaway's edition ; but there is no date to the manuscript in this place. 
 A last leaf, however, is missing, and it is possible that Mr. Dallaway found this date 
 at the foot of the letter. — T. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. • 6 
 
 the natural compassion in your temper to the greatest degree 
 of tenderness for the interests of the Church, and the liberty 
 and welfare of your country : the steps that are now made 
 towards the destruction of both, the apparent danger we are 
 in, the manifest growth of injustice, oppression, and hypocrisy, 
 cannot do otherwise than give your lordship those hours of 
 sorrow, which, did not your fortitude of soul, and reflections 
 from religion and philosophy, shorten, would add to the national 
 misfortunes, by injuring the health of so great a supporter of 
 our sinking liberties. I ought to ask pardon for this digres- 
 sion : it is more proper for me in this place to say something 
 to excuse an address that looks so very presuming. My sex 
 is usually forbid studies of this nature, and folly reckoned 
 so much our proper sphere, we are sooner pardoned any ex- 
 cesses of that, than the least pretensions to reading or good 
 sense. We are permitted no books but such as tend to the 
 weakening and effeminating of the mind. Our natural de- 
 fects are every way indulged, and it is looked upon as in a 
 degree criminal to improve our reason, or fancy we have any. 
 We are taught to place all our art in adorning our outward 
 forms, and permitted, without reproach, to carry that custom 
 even to extravagancy, while our minds are entirely neglected, 
 and, by disuse of reflections, filled with nothing but the trifling 
 objects our eyes are daOy entertained with. This custom, so 
 long established and industriously upheld, makes it even ridi- 
 culous to go out of the common road, and forces one to find 
 as many excuses as if it was a thing altogether criminal not 
 to play the fool in concert with other women of quality, whose 
 birth and leisure only serve to render them the most useless 
 and most worthless part of the creation. There is hardly a 
 character in the world more despicable, or more liable to 
 universal ridicule, than that of a learned woman : those words 
 imply, according to the received sense, a tattling, impertinent, 
 vain, and conceited creature. I believe nobody will deny that 
 learning may have this effect, but it must be a very superficial 
 degree of it. Erasmus was certainly a man of great learning 
 and good sense, and he seems to have my opinion of it when 
 
 B 2 
 
4 MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 he says, Foemina qui ["sic] vere sapit, non videtur sibi sapere ; 
 contra, quae cum nihil sapiat sibi videtur sapere, ea demum bis 
 stulta est. The Abbe Bellegarde gives a right reason for 
 -women's talking over-much : they know nothing, and every 
 outward object strikes their imagination, and produces a mtd- 
 titude of thoughts, which, if they knew more, they would 
 know not worth their thinking of. I am not now arguing 
 for an equality of the two sexes. I do not doubt God and 
 nature have thrown us into an inferior rank ; we are a lower 
 part of the creation, we owe obedience and submission to the 
 superior sex, and any woman who suffers her vanity and folly 
 to deny this, rebels against the law of the Creator, and indis- 
 putable order of nature : but there is a worse effect than this, 
 which follows the careless education given to women of quality, 
 its being so easy for any man of sense, that finds it either his 
 interest or his pleasure, to corrupt them. The common me- 
 thod is, to begin by attacking their religion : they bring them 
 a thousand fallacious arguments their excessive ignorance 
 hinders them from refuting : and I speak now from my own 
 knowledge and conversation among them, there are more 
 atheists among the fine ladies than the loosest sort of rakes ; 
 and the same ignorance that generally works out into excess 
 of superstition, exposes them to the snares of any who have a 
 fancy to carry them to t'other extreme. I have made my 
 excuses already too long, and will conclude in the words of 
 Erasmus : — Valgus sentit quod lingua Latina non convenit 
 foeminis, quia parum facit ad tuendam illarum pitdicitiam, 
 quoniam rarum et insolitum est fceminam scire Latinam; 
 attamen consuetudo omnium malarum rerwm m.agistra. De- 
 corum est fceminam in Germania nata [sic] discere Gallice, ut 
 loquatur cum his qui sciunt Gallice ; cur igitur habetur inde- 
 corum discere Latine, ut quotidie confabuletur cum tot autoribus 
 tarn facundis, tarn eruditis, tarn sapientibus, tarn fides consul- 
 toribus? Certe mihi quantulumcunque cerebri est, malim in 
 bonis studiis consumere, quam in precibus sine mmte dictis, in 
 pemoctibus conviviis, in exhauriendis capacibus pateris, ^c.' 
 
 ' All that follows this word is now missing in the manuscript. — T. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 5 
 
 I have tired your lordship, and too long delayed to subscribe 
 myself 
 
 Your lordship's most respectful and obliged. 
 
 TO MRS. ANNE JUSTICE.^ 
 
 [Postmark, " Aug. 7."] 
 
 I AM very glad you direct yourself so well. I endeavour to 
 make my solitude as agreeable as I can. Most things of that 
 kind are in the power -of the mind ; we may make ourselves easy 
 if we cannot perfectly happy. The news you tell me very 
 much surprises me. I wish Mrs. B.^ extremely well, and hope 
 she designs better for herself than a stolen wedding with a 
 man who (you know) we have reason to believe not the most 
 sincere lover upon earth ; and since his estate [is] in such 
 very bad order, I am clearly of your opinion his best course 
 would be the army, for I suppose six or seven thousand pound 
 (if he should get that with his mistress) would not set him up 
 again, and there he might possibly establish his fortune, at 
 least better it, and, at worst, be rid of all his cares. I wonder 
 all the young men in England don't take that method, cer- 
 tainly the most profitable as well [as] the noblest. I confess I 
 cannot believe Mrs. B. so imprudent to keep on any private 
 correspondence with him. I much doubt her perfect happi- 
 ness if she runs away with him ; I fear she will have more 
 reason than ever to say there is no such thing. I have just 
 now received the numbers of the great lottery which is draw- 
 ing ; I find myself (as yet) among the unlucky, but, thank 
 God, the great prize is not come out, and there is room for 
 hopes still. Prithee, dear child, pray heartily for me if I win. 
 I don't question (in spite of aU owe disputes) to find myself 
 perfectly happy, my heart goes very much pit-a-pat about it, 
 but I've a horrid ill-boding mind that tells me I shan't win a 
 farthing ; I should be very glad to be mistaken in that case. I 
 
 ' From the origiaal, lately in the possession of Mr. Boone, of Bond-street. 
 There is little in the contents to fix the date, and the letter is without signature. 
 It is addressed " To Mrs. Anne Justice, at Mr. Justice's, on the Pavement at York, 
 Yorkshire, by way of London." — T. 
 
 ^ Perhaps Miss Banks, an earl}' Noftijighamshire frieiul. — T. 
 
6 MISCELLANEOUS CORKESPONDENCE. 
 
 hear Mrs. B. has been at the Spa; I wonder you don't 
 mention it. Adieu, my dear; pray make no more excuses 
 ahout long letters, and believe yours never seem so to me. 
 
 FROM ■ 
 
 I MIGHT be dead, or you in Yorkshire, for anything that I 
 am the better for yotxr being in town ; I have been sick 
 ever since I saw you last, and now have a swelled face, and 
 very bad ; nothing will do me so much good as the sight of 
 dear Lady Mary ; when you come this way let me see you, for 
 indeed I love you. 
 
 TO LADY .^ 
 
 Jan. 13, 1715-16. 
 
 1 FIND after all by your letter of yesterday, that Mrs. 
 D — — is resolved to marry the old greasy curate. She was 
 always High Church in an excessive degree, and you know 
 she used to speak of Sacheverel as an apostolic saint, who 
 was worthy to sit in the same place with St. Paul, if not a 
 step above him. It is a matter, however, very doubtful to me, 
 whether it is not still more the man than the apostle that Mrs. 
 
 D looks to in the present alliance. Though at the age of 
 
 forty, she is, I assure you, very far from being cold and ia- 
 sensible ; her fire may be covered with ashes, but it is not 
 extinguished. Don't be deceived, my dear, by that prudish 
 and sanctified air. Warm devotion is [sic] no equivocal mark 
 of warm passions ; besides, I know it is a fact, of which I have 
 proofs in hand, which I will tell you by word of mouth, that 
 our learned and holy prude is exceedingly disposed to use the 
 means supposed in the primitive command, let what will come 
 of the end. The curate, indeed, is very filthy. Such a red, 
 
 ' This note was published by Mr. Dallaway as from Pope ; but it bears no sig- 
 nature, and the handwriting has little resemblance to that of Pope. It is ad- 
 dressed " To the Eight Hon'''° the Lady Mary Wortley, in Charles-street, West- 
 minster." — T. 
 
 2 This letter was first published in the Additional Volume of 1767. Its authen- 
 ticity is extremely doubtful. It is useless to endeavour to ascertain who were the 
 persons referred to in initials, or to imagine a reason for suppressing their names 
 after fifty years, if the publisher had really possessed the original. — T. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 7 
 
 spongy, warty nose! Such a squint! In short, he is ugly 
 beyond expression ; and what ought naturally to render him 
 
 pecuharly displeasing to one of Mrs. D 's constitution and 
 
 propensities, he is stricken in years. Nor do I really know 
 how they will live. He has but forty-five pounds a year — she 
 but a trifling sum ; so that they are likely to feast upon love 
 and ecclesiastical history, which will be very empty food with- 
 out a proper mixtxire of beef and pudding. I have, however, 
 engaged our friend, who is the curate's landlord, to give them 
 
 a good lease ; and if Mrs. D , instead of spending whole 
 
 days in reading Collier, Hickes, and vile translations of Plato 
 and Epictetus, wiU but form the resolution of taking care of 
 her house and minding the dairy, things may go tolerably. 
 It is not likely that their tender loves will give them many 
 sweet babes to provide for. 
 
 I met the lover yesterday, going to the alehouse in his dirty 
 nightgown, with a book under his arm to entertain the club ; 
 
 and as Mrs. D was with me at the time, I pointed out to 
 
 her the charming creature : she blushed and looked prim ; 
 but quoted a passage out of Herodotus, in which it is said that 
 the Persians wore long nightgowns. There is really no more 
 accounting for the taste in marriage of many of our sex, than 
 there is for the appetite of your neighbom- Miss S — y, who 
 makes such waste of chalk and charcoal when they fall in her 
 way. 
 
 As marriage produces children, so children produce care 
 and disputes ; and wrangling, as is said (at least by old ba- 
 chelors and old maids), is one of the sweets of the conjugal 
 
 state. You tell me that our friend Mrs. is at length 
 
 blessed with a son ; and that her husband, who is a great phi- 
 losopher (if his own testimony is to be depended upon), insists 
 on her suckling it herself. You ask my advice on this matter ; 
 and to give it you frankly, I really think that Mr. 's de- 
 mand is unreasonable, as his wife's constitution is tender, and 
 her temper fretful. A true philosopher would consider these 
 circumstances, but a pedant is always throwing his system in 
 your face, and applies it equally to all things, times, and places, 
 
8 MISCELLANEOUS COKRESPONDENCE. 
 
 just like a tailor who would make a coat out of his own head, 
 without any regard to the bulk or figure of the person that must 
 wear it. All those fine-spun arguments that he has drawn 
 from Nature to stop your mouths, weigh, I must own to you, 
 but very little Tvith me. — This same Nature is indeed a spe- 
 cious word, nay, there is a great deal in it if it is properly un- 
 derstood and applied, but I cannot bear to hear people using 
 it to justify what common sense must disavow. Is not Nature 
 modified by art in many things ? Was it not designed to be 
 so"? And is it not happy for human society that it is so? 
 Would you like to see your husband let his beard grow, until 
 he woxild be obliged to put the end of it in his pocket, be- 
 cause this beard is the gift of Nature ? The instincts of Na- 
 ture point out neither tailors, nor weavers, nor mantua-makers, 
 nor sempsters, nor milliners ; and yet I am very glad that we 
 don't run naked like the Hottentots. But not to wander from 
 the subject — -I grant that Nature has furnished the mother 
 with milk to nourish her child ; but I maintain at the same 
 time, that if she can find better milk elsewhere, she ought to 
 prefer it without hesitation. I don't see why she should have 
 more scruple to do this, than her husband has to leave the 
 clear fountain, which Nature gave him, to quench his thirst, 
 
 for stout October, port, or claret. Indeed, if Mrs. was 
 
 a buxom, sturdy woman, who lived on plain food, took regular 
 exercise, enjoyed proper returns of rest, aiid was free from 
 violent passions (which you and I know is not the case), she 
 might be a good nurse for her child ; but as matters stand, I 
 do verily think that the milk of a good comely cow, who feeds 
 qviietly in her meadow, never devours ragouts, nor drinks 
 ratifia, nor frets at quadrille, nor sits up tiU three in the 
 morning elated with gain or dejected with loss, — ^I do think that 
 the milk of such a cow, or of a nurse that came as near it as 
 possible, would be likely to nourish the young squire much 
 better than hers. If it be true that the child sucks in the 
 mother's passions with her milk, this is a strong argument in 
 favour of the cow, unless you may be afraid that the young 
 squire may become a calf; but how many calves are there 
 
MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 9 
 
 both in State and Church, who have been brought up with 
 their mothers' milk ! 
 
 I promise faithfully to communicate to no mortal the letter 
 you wrote me last. What you say of the two rebel lords, I 
 believe to be true ; but I can do nothing in the matter. If 
 my projects don't fail in the execution, I shall see ' you before 
 a month passes. Give my service to Dr. Blackboard. He is 
 a good man, but I never saw in my life such a persecuting 
 face cover a humane and tender heart. I imagine (within 
 myself) that the Smithfield priests, who burned the Protestants 
 in the time of Queen Mary, had just such faces as the doctor's. 
 If we were Papists, I should hke him very much for my con- 
 fessor; his seeming austerity would give you and I a great 
 reputation for sanctity, and his good indulgent heart would 
 be the very thing that would suit us in the affair of penance 
 and ghostly direction. 
 
 , Farewell, my dear lady, &c. &c. 
 
 FROM MR. JAMES CRAGGS.' 
 
 Cockpit, July 25, 1720. 
 
 Madam, — I will not fail to insert your ladyship's name in 
 my list for the next South Sea subscription, though I am not 
 sure whether the directors will receive another from me.^ I 
 am, with great respect, madam. 
 
 Your ladyship's most obedient humble servant. 
 
 FROM SARAH DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH. 
 
 Windsor Lodge, Sept. 26 [1722]. "^ 
 
 Your letter (dear Lady Mary) is so extremely kind upon 
 the subject of poor dear Lord' Sunderland, that I cannot 
 help thanking you, and assuring you that I shall always return 
 
 ^ Mr. Craggs, "who was secretary of state, "was deeply implicated in the South Sea 
 scheme, and died before its detection. His father was censured by Parliament. — D. 
 
 2 The stock was at this moment at its highest point, being on the 1st of July 
 and 1st of August at " 950 with the dividend." On the 1st of September it had 
 fallen to 770 : on the Ist of October to 280.— T. 
 
 3 Her son-in-law, Charles Spencer, Earl of Sunderland, died April 19, 1722 ; 
 and his only child died two days later from inoculation for the small-pox, the 
 countess being at the time enceinte. — T. 
 
10 MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 your goodness to me in the best manner I can. It is a cruel 
 misfortune to lose so valuable a young man in aU respects, 
 though his successor has all the virtues that I could wish for, 
 but still it is a heavy affliction to me to have one droop so im- 
 timely from the only branch that I can ever hope to receive 
 any comfort from, in my own family. Your concern for my 
 health is very obliging, but as I have gone through so many 
 misfortunes,' some of which were very uncommon, it is plain 
 that nothing will kill [me] but distempers and physicians. 
 
 Pray do me the favour to present my humble service to 
 Mr. Wortley, and to your agreeable daughter ; and beheve 
 me as I am very sincerely, 
 
 Dear madam. 
 Your most faithful and most humble servant. 
 
 TO THE HONOURABLE MISS CALTHORPE.^ 
 
 London, Dec. 7 [1723]. 
 
 My knight-errantry is at an end, and I believe I shall, 
 henceforth, think freeing of galley-slaves, and knocking down 
 windmills, more laudable undertakings than the defence of 
 any woman's reputation whatever. To say truth, I have 
 never had any great esteem for the generality of the fair sex, 
 and my only consolation for being of that gender has been the 
 assurance it gave me of never being married to any one among 
 them. But I own at present I am so much out of humour 
 vnth the actions of Lady Holdernesse, that I never was so 
 heartily ashamed of my petticoats before. You know, I sup- 
 pose, that by this discreet match^ she renoimces the care of 
 her children, and I am laughed at by all my acquaintance for 
 my faith in her honour and understanding. My only refuge 
 is the sincere hope that she is out of her senses ; and taking 
 herself for Queen of Sheba, and Mr. Mildmay for King 
 
 ' The great Duke of Marlborough died June the 10th, 1722. This, andthefacts 
 above stated, explain the duchess's allusion to " uncommon misfortunes." — T. 
 
 2 Addressed " To the Honourable Mrs. Calthorpe, at Elvetham, near Hartford- 
 bridge, Hampshire." She was one of the daughters of Henry first Viscount Lon- 
 gueville, whose son was created Earl of Sussex.— T. 
 
 ^ See notes on the Letters to Lady Mar. — T. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. ] 1 
 
 Solomon. I do not think it quite so ridiculous. But the 
 men, you may well imagine^ are not so charitable : and they 
 agree in the kind reflection, that nothing hinders women from 
 playing the fool, but not having it in their power. The many 
 instances that are to be found to support this opinion ought to 
 make the few reasonable men valued,— -but where are the 
 reasonable ladies ? Dear madam, come to town, that I may 
 have the honour of saying there is one in St. James' s-place.' 
 
 FROM DE. YOUNG. 
 
 [About February, 1724.] 
 
 Madam, — A great cold and a little intemperance has given 
 me such a face as I am ashamed to show, though I much 
 want to talk with your ladyship. For my theatrical measures 
 are broken ; Mariamne brought its author above 1500Z., The 
 Captives above lOOOZ., and Edwin,^ now in rehearsal, has 
 already, before acting, brought its author above lOOOZ. Mine, 
 when acted, will not more than pay for the paper on which it is 
 written ; but the moment I get abroad I will wait on yoiu* 
 ladyship, and explain further. Only this at present, for the 
 reason mentioned, I am determined to suppress my play for 
 this season at least. The concern you showed for its success 
 is my apology for this account, which were otherwise very im- 
 pertinent. I am, madam. 
 
 Your ladyship's much obhged 
 
 And most obedient humble servant. 
 
 FROM lady PEMBROKE. 
 
 Madam, — My Lord Pembroke agrees with your ladyship, 
 that it is a great surprise to him to know that you are the 
 person that copied the inscription, but at the same time 
 desires I will assure you that it is the most agreeable one he 
 
 > Miss Calthorpe died in tbe year following tbe assumed date of tbis letter. 
 The Weekly Journal of Saturday, June 6, 1724, announces that " the Honourable 
 Mrs. Calthorpe, sister to tbe Earl of Sussex, died last "week in St. James's- 
 place."— T. 
 
 ' Mariamne was written by Pope's coadjutor, Fenton ; The Captives, by Gay ; 
 Edwin, a tragedy by George Jeffreys, was produced at the theatre in Lincoln's 
 Inn-fields in February, 1724.— T. 
 
12 MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 ever met with ; and, if you will give him leave, with the 
 utmost pleasure will wait on you this evening, betwixt six and 
 seven; and though I know nothing of inscriptions, yet I 
 cannot deny myself the satisfaction of going with him to the 
 most agreeable conversation in the world ; there being no one 
 more sensible of your merit than your ladyship's 
 
 Most obedient humble servant.^ 
 
 ' Mary Howe, daughter of Lord Viscount Howe, married to Thomas eighth 
 Earl of Pembroke, 1725, the Lord Pembroke who collected the statues and medals 
 at Wilton, and whose knowledge of classical antiquity might therefore make his 
 praise flattering to Lady Mary Wortley. He had been a principal member of the 
 Whig administrations under King William and Queen Anne, and the last person 
 who held the office of Lord High Admiral ; but now being old, and a great hu- 
 morist, distinguished himself chiefly by odd whims and peculiarities; one of 
 which was a fixed resolution not to believe that anything he disliked ever did or 
 could happen. One must explain this by instances. He chose that his eldest son 
 should always live in the house with him, while unmarried. The son, who was 
 more than of age, and had a will of hia own, often chose to live elsewhere. But 
 let him be ever so distant, or stay away ever so long, his father still insisted on 
 supposing him present, every day gravely bidding the butler tell Lord Herbert 
 dinner was ready ; and the butler every day as gravely bringing word that " his 
 lordship dined abroad." 
 
 Marrying for the third time at seventy-five, he maintained strict dominion over 
 a wife, whom other people thought safely arrived at years of discretion, and quite 
 fit to take care of herself. She had leave to visit in an evening, but must never, 
 on any account, stay out a minute later than ten o'clock, his supper hour. One 
 night, however, she stayed till past twelve. He declined supping, telling the ser- 
 vants it could not be ten o'clock, as their lady was not come home. When at last she 
 came in a terrible fright, and began making a thousand apologies, " My dear," said 
 he very coolly, " you are under a mistake, it is but just ten : — your watch, I see, 
 goes too fast, and so does mine ; we must have the man to-morrow to set them to 
 rights ; meanwhile, let us go to supper." 
 
 His example on another occasion might be worth following. Of all the Mede- 
 and-Persian laws established in his house, the most peremptory was, that any ser- 
 vant who once got drunk should be instantly discharged, no pardon granted, no 
 excuse listened to. Yet an old footman, who had lived with him many years, 
 would sometimes indulge in a pot of ale extraordinary, trusting to the wilful 
 blindness which he saw assumed when convenient. One fatal day even this could 
 not avail. As my lord crossed the hall, John appeared in full view ; not rather 
 tipsy, or a little disguised, but dead drunk and unable to stand. Lord P. went up 
 to him: "My poor fellow, what aUs you? you seem dreadfully ill, — let me feel 
 your ptilse. God bless us, he is in a raging fever, — get him to bed directly, and 
 send for the apothecary." The apothecary came, not to be consulted, for his lordship 
 was physician-general in his own family ; but to obey orders, — to bleed the patient 
 copiously, clap a huge blister on his back, and give him a powerful dose of physic. 
 After a few days of this treatment, when the fellow emerged weak and wan as the 
 severest illuess could have left him, " Hah, honest John," cried his master, " I am 
 truly glad to see thee alive ; you have had a wonderful escape though, and ought 
 to be thankful— very thankful indeed. Why, man, if 1 had not passed by and 
 spied the condition you were in, yon would have been dead before now. But 
 John ! John ! " (lifting up his finger), " no more of these fkvers." — W. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 13 
 
 FROM LADY PEMBROKE. 
 
 Madam, — My lord says, in reading your most ingenious 
 descriptions, he observed that your ladyship had the art of 
 making common circumstances agreeable ; as the lady^s care 
 of her lace in the storm, &c.^ You have also made learned 
 things instructive, as the copy of the Greek inscription ; the 
 which my lord desires that your ladyship will be pleased to 
 send him again by the bearer, that he may better understand 
 it than by one he has ; care will be taken to return it safe 
 again. Though this is my lord's letter, yet I must beg leave 
 to add to it, that I am, with the most unfeigned esteem, your 
 ladyship's 
 
 Most obedient humble servant. 
 
 Friday evening. '■' 
 
 FROM DR. YOUNG. 
 
 March the 1st, 1725-6. 
 
 Madam, — I have seen Mr. Savage,^ who is extremely sen- 
 sible of the honour your ladyship did him by me. You was, 
 I find, too modest in your opinion of the present you pleased 
 to make him, if Mr. Savage may be allowed to be a judge in 
 the case. I am obHged to go down to-morrow to Wycombe 
 election, which is on Thursday ; as soon as I return, I will 
 wait on your ladyship with the trifle you [were] pleased to 
 ask, which I had done before, but I have been, and still am, 
 in all the uneasiness a cold can give. 
 
 I am, madam, with great esteem. 
 
 Your ladyship's • most obedient 
 
 And obliged humble servant. 
 
 FROM DR. YOUNG. 
 
 Madam, — The more I think of your criticisms, the more I 
 feel the just force of them : I will alter which [sic'\ are alterable ; 
 those that are not I beg you to make a secret of, and to make 
 
 1 See letter of October 31, O.S. [1718], among Letters during the Embassy. — T. 
 
 2 Richard Savage, the alleged son of the Countess of Macclesfield. The " pre- 
 sent" made to him by Lady Mary, to which the writer alludes, was no doubt the 
 customary fee for Savage's dedication to her of his Miscellanies, published in this 
 year. — T. 
 
14 MISCELLANEOUS COERESPONDENCE. 
 
 an experiment on the sagacity of the town, which I think may 
 possibly overlook what you have observed, for the players and 
 Mr. Dodington,! neither of whom were backward in finding 
 fault, or careless in attention, took no notice of the flaw in 
 D.'s [Demetrius's] honour, or Erixene's conduct,^ and I would 
 fain have their bHndness continue till my business is done ; 
 the players are fond of it, and as it has been said on a point of 
 a little more importance, si populus vult decipi, decipiatur. 
 I am, madam. 
 Your most obedient and most humble servant. 
 
 [Postscript.'] — ^Madam, — ^Your alteration in the fifth act will 
 be of exceeding advantage in more views than one. I will 
 wait on your ladyship with it as soon as I have done it, which 
 will be, I believe, Monday morning. But that I'm satisfied 
 you want no inducement to assist me as much as you can, I 
 should add that I have more depending on the success of this 
 particular piece than your ladyship imagines. 
 
 Friday noon. 
 
 FROM JOHN LORD HERVEY. 
 
 Bath, October 8 [1728]. 
 
 I HAD too much pleasure in receiving your ladyship's 
 commands to have any merit in obeying them, and should be 
 very insincere if I pretended that my inclination to converse 
 with you, could ever be a second motive to my doing it. I 
 came to this place but yesterday, from which you may imagine 
 I am not yet sufficiently qualified to execute the commission you 
 gave me ; which was, to send you a list of the sojourners and 
 inmates of this place ; but there is so universal an affinity and 
 resemblance among these individuals, that a small paragraph 
 will serve amply to illustrate what you have to depend upon. 
 The Duchess of Marlborough, Congreve, and Lady Eich, are 
 the only people whose faces I know, whose names I ever heard, 
 
 1 George Bubb Dodington, afterwards Lord Melcombe-Regis. — T. 
 
 2 This alludes to Young's tragedy of The Brothers. Its production was delayed, 
 and the play was finally withdrawn by the author upon his being appointed chap- 
 lain to George the Second in 1728. Dr. Johnson informs us that the tragedy was 
 then " in rehearsal," and that " the managers resigned it with some reluctance to 
 the delicacy of the new clergyman." — T. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 15 
 
 or who, I believe, have any names belonging to them ; the rest 
 are a swarm of wretched beings, some with half their limbs, 
 some with none, the ingredients of Pandora's box personifie, 
 who stalk about, half -living remembrancers of mortality ; and 
 by calling themselves human, ridicule the species more than 
 Swift's Yahoos. I do not meet a creature without saying 
 
 to myself as Lady did of her femme de chambre, Re- 
 
 gardez eel animal, considirez ce ndant, voila une belle dme pour 
 etre immortelle. This is giving you little encouragement to 
 venture among us, but the sincerity with which I have deh- 
 neated this sketch of our coterie at Bath, will at least persuade 
 you, I hope, madam, to beheve, I can give up my interest to 
 my truth, and induce you to believe I never strain the latter, 
 when I assure you, in the strongest terms, I am with the 
 greatest warmth and esteem, madam. 
 
 Your ladyship's most obedient humble servant. 
 I write from Lindsay's, in more noise than the union of 
 ten cockpits could produce, and Lady Rich teazing me at 
 every word to have done, and begin a quadrUle, which she 
 cannot make up without me. 
 
 FROM JOHN LORD HERVEY.^ 
 
 Bath, October 28 [1728]. 
 
 YoTJR suspicions with regard to the Duchess of Marl- 
 borough are utterly groundless ; she neither knew to whom I 
 was writing, nor that I ever had the pleasure of a letter from 
 you in my life. The speech you had cooked up for her was 
 delightful, exactly her style, and word for word what she would 
 infallibly have said, had she been in the situation you supposed. 
 How far I made free with your letter I will nakedly confess : 
 I read two or three things to her out of it, relating to the 
 coronation ; but upon my honour, without giving the least 
 hint from whence it came, and by a thing she said thi'ee days 
 afterwards, I found she guessed Lord Chesterfield to be my 
 correspondent. If I went further in this step than you would 
 
 ' Indorged by Mr. Wortley Montagu " Lord Hervey, from Bath."— T. 
 
16 MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 have me, give me absolution upon my confession of my 
 fault, and I will give you my word never to repeat it. This 
 preliminary article settled, I beg for the future our commerce 
 may be without any restraint ; that you will allow me the 
 liberty of communicating my thoughts naturally; and that 
 you would conclude yourself safe in doing so to me, till I 
 cease to have the least grain of natural, grateful, or political 
 honesty in my whole composition. I will not make the com- 
 mon excuse for a dull letter, of writing from a dull place ; it 
 is one I never allowed, and one I never will make use of : if 
 people have the gift of entertaining belonging to them, they 
 must be so, writing to you, be it from what place it will ; and 
 when they fail of being so, it is no more for want of materials, 
 than materials could make them so without genius. BoUeau 
 can write upon a Lutrin what one can read with pleasure a 
 thousand times, and Blackmore cannot write upon the Creation 
 anything that one shall not yawn ten times over, before one 
 has read it once. You see I am arguing fairly, though against 
 myself, and that if I am stupid I have at least candour enough 
 to own it an inherent defect, and do not (as ill gamesters com- 
 plain of their luck) impute the faults of my understanding to 
 accident or chance. I cannot say neither that my manner of 
 passing my time here is at all disagreeable, for you must 
 know I have an ungenteel happiness in my temper that gives 
 me a propensity to being pleased with the people I happen to 
 be with, and the things I happen to be doing. As to your 
 manner of living at Twickenham, I entirely disapprove it. 
 Nature never designed you to perform the offices of a groom 
 and a nursery-maid ; if you would be sincere, you must own, 
 riding is inverting her dictates in your search of pleasiure, or 
 you must confess yourself an example of the maxim which I 
 laid down, and you controverted so warmly two nights before 
 I left London. I have met with several accumulated proofs 
 since I saw you, that confirm me more and more in that faith ; 
 and begin to think it impossible I should change my religion, 
 unless you will be so good to take my conversion into your 
 own hands. I must tell you, too, that Thomas of Didymus 
 
MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 17 
 
 and I are so alike in our way of thinking, that *»«»****. 
 I must be confuted in the same manner that Daphne, in the 
 Aminta, says she was : "Mi mostrava piu I'ombre d'una breve 
 notte, che mille giorni di piii chiari soli : e la piu forte prova 
 di quell' argumento si trova nelle parole, no, ma in silenzio." 
 It is so long since I read this, that it is more than possible I 
 may quote it false ; but to speak in her Grace of Marl- 
 borough's style, you know what I mean. If you do not dislike 
 long letters, and an unstudied galimatias of tout ce qui se 
 trouve au bout de la plume (comme dit Madame de S^vigne), 
 let me know it ; and if you would not have me think it flattery 
 when you tell me you do not, encourage the trade, not only by 
 accepting my bills, but making quick returns. Adieu, I am 
 stayed for to dinner ; but if the omitting a respectful conclu- 
 sion with three or four half lines to express warmth, truth, 
 obedience, humihty, &c., shocks your pride, give me a hint of 
 it in your next, and I will take care never again to retrench 
 those fees, due to ladies of your wit, beauty, and quality. 
 
 TO DE. ARBUTHNOT.^ 
 
 Oct. 17 [1730?]. 
 
 Sir, — I have this minute received your letter, and cannot 
 remember I ever was so much surprised in my life ; the whole 
 contents of it being a matter of astonishment. I give you 
 sincere and hearty thanks for your intelligence, and the 
 obhging manner of it. I han^e ever valued you as a gentleman 
 both of sense and merit, and will join with you in any method 
 you can contrive to prevent or punish the authors of so horrid 
 a villany. I am with much esteem. 
 
 Your humble servant. 
 
 TO DR. AEBUTHNOT. 
 
 [October, 1730. ?] 
 
 Sir,— Since I saw you I have made some inquiries, and 
 heard more, of the story you was so kind to mention to me. I 
 am told Pope has had the surprising impudence to assert he 
 
 ' This and the other letters to Arbuthnot in this section are given from the ori- 
 ginals in the possession of W. H. Baillie, Esq. — T. 
 
 VOL. II. C 
 
18 MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 can bring the lampoon when he pleases to produce it, uiider 
 my own hand ; I desire he may be made to keep to this offer. 
 If he is so skilful in counterfeiting hands, I suppose he will not 
 confine that great talent to the gratifying his malice, but take 
 some occasion to increase his fortune by the same method, and 
 I may hope (by such practices) to see him exalted according 
 to his merit, which nobody will rejoice at more than myself. 
 1 beg of you, sir (as an act of justice), to endeavour to set the 
 truth in an open light, and then I leave to your judgment the 
 character of those who have attempted to hurt mine in so bar- 
 barous a manner. I can assure you (in particular) you named 
 a lady to me (as abused in this libel) whose name I never 
 heard before, and as I never had any acquaintance with Dr. 
 Swift,! ajjj an utter stranger to all his affairs and even his 
 
 • Although there is no date to this and the preceding letter, the affair to which 
 they relate may be inferred with something like certainty. Young's "Two 
 Epistles to Mr. A. Pope," published in 1730, were quickly followed by a scurrilous 
 and indecent poem, entitled " One Epistle to Mr. Alexander Pope, occasioned by 
 Two Epistles lately published." This poem attacks with great bitterness not only 
 Pope, but his friends Arbuthnot, Gay, and Swift, and concludes with what is per- 
 haps the earliest allusion in print to Swift's alleged liaison with Miss Vahhomrigh : 
 " So when Vanessa yielded up her charms, 
 The blest Cadenus languished in her arms. 
 High on a peg his linbrushed beaver hung, 
 * * * * * 
 
 Raptured he lies, deans, authors, are forgot. 
 Wood's copper pence and Atterbury's plot." 
 The libel was afterwards attributed to the joint labours of Pope's enemies, 
 Welsted and James Moore Smythe, and Pope is subsequently supposed to allude 
 to it in the line : 
 
 " Three thousand suns went dSwn on Welsted's lie." 
 But that he once suspected, or pretended to suspect. Lady Mary of having had a 
 hand in it, there can be little doubt. The attacks in the " One Epistle" were re- 
 plied to in an article in the Grub-street Journal, a paper which Pope is suspected 
 of having projected, and to which he was at least a frequent contributor. The 
 defence is long and elaborate, deals with facts which could scarcely have been 
 known to any one but Pope himself, and employs language closely resembling 
 passages in Pope's letters not then published. Among others, the writer iro- 
 nically appeals to *' a lady {supposed to have had some hand in this piece) who has 
 confidently reported he was once whipped ;" which clearly refers to Lady Mary, 
 whom Pope accused of writing a narrative of a supposed whipping administered to 
 the poet " in Ham Walks," entitled " A Pop upon Pope." Pope may possibly have 
 been aware of some connexion between Lady Mary and J. Roberts, the publisher 
 of the " One Epistle ;" for Roberts, whether by her connivance or not, published in 
 1716 three of her Town Eclogues. He was also the publisher, in 1733, of the verses 
 to the Imitator alluded to in the next letter ; and when Lady Mary's son ab- 
 sconded from school in 1726, an advertisement in the newspapers, offering a reward 
 of " Twenty pounds and reasonable charges" for his detection, directed all infor- 
 mation to be forwarded " to Mr. James Roberts, near Stationers' Hall." — T. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 19 
 
 person, which I never saw to my knowledge, and am now con- 
 vinced the whole is a contrivance of Pope's to blast the repu- 
 tation of one who never injured him. I am not more sensible 
 of his injustice, than I am, sir, of your \_sic] candour, generosity, 
 and good sense I have found in you, which has obliged me to be 
 with a very uncommon warmth your real friend, and I heartily 
 wish for an opportunity of showing I am so more effectually 
 than by subscribing myself yoiu- very 
 
 Humble servant. 
 
 FROM HENRY FIELDING. 
 
 Wednesday evening. 
 
 Madam, — I have presumed to send your ladyship a copy 
 of the play which you did me the honour of reading three acts 
 of last spring, and hope it may meet as light a censure from 
 your ladyship's judgment as then ; for while your goodness 
 permits me (what I esteem the greatest, and indeed only hap- 
 piness of my Ufe) to offer my unworthy performances to your 
 perusal, it will be entirely from your sentence that they will 
 be regarded, or disesteemed by me. I shall do myself the 
 honour of calHng at your ladyship's door to-morrow at eleven, 
 which, if it be an improper hour, I beg to know from your 
 servant what other time will be more convenient. I am, with 
 the greatest respect and gratitude, madam. 
 
 Your ladyship's most obedient. 
 
 Most devoted humble servant. 
 
 FROM HENRY FIELDING.' 
 
 London, Sept. 4 [1731]. 
 
 I HOPE your ladyship will honour the scenes, which I pre- 
 sume to lay before you, with your perusal. As they are 
 written on a model I never yet attempted, I am exceedingly 
 anxious lest they should find less mercy from you than my 
 lighter productions. It will be a slight compensation to The 
 Modern Husband, that your ladyship's censure will defend 
 him from the possibility of any other reproof, since your least 
 approbation -ndll always give me pleasure, infinitely superior to 
 
 ' I have not fonnd the original of this letter. — T. 
 
 o 2 
 
20 MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 the loudest applauses of a theatre. For whatever has past 
 your judgment, may, I think, without any imputation of im- 
 modesty, refer want of success to want of judgment in an 
 audience. I shall do myself the honour of waiting on your 
 ladyship at Twickenham next Monday, to receive my sentence, 
 and am, madam, with the most devoted respect, 
 
 Your ladyship's most ohedient, most humble servant. 
 
 FROM SARAH DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH. 
 
 Blenheim, Sept. 18, 1731. 
 
 You are always very good to me, dear Lady Mary, and I 
 am as sensible of it as I ought to be. All things are agreed 
 upon, and the writings drawing for Di's marriage with my 
 Lord John Russell,' which is in every particular to my satis- 
 faction ; but they cannot be married till we come to London. 
 I propose more satisfaction in it than I thought had been in 
 store for me. I believe you have heard me say that I desired 
 to die when I had disposed well of her ; but I desire that you 
 would not put me in mind of it, for I find now I have a 
 mind to live till I have married my Torismond, which name I 
 have given long to John Spencer.'' I am in such hurries of 
 business that I must end, when I have assured you that I am 
 Your most faithful and obedient humble servant. 
 
 My hand is lame, and I cannot write myself, which is the 
 better for you.^ 
 
 TO DR. AKBUTHNOT. 
 
 Jan. 3 [1735]. 
 
 SiK, — I have perused the last lampoon of your ingenious 
 friend, and am not surprised you did not find me out under 
 the name of Sappho, because there is nothing I ever heard in 
 our characters or circumstances to make a parallel, but as the 
 town (except you, who know better) generally suppose Pope 
 means me, whenever he mentions that name, I cannot help 
 
 1 The duchess's granddaughter, Lady Diana Spencer, was married on the 11th of 
 October, 1731, to Lord John Russell, afterwards fourth Duke of Bedford. — T. 
 
 2 A brother of Lady Diana, afterwards father of the first Lord Spencer. — T. 
 ' The duchess's handwriting is not easy to decipher. — T. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 21 
 
 taking notice of the horrible maHce he bears against the lady 
 signified by that name, which appears to be irritated by sup- 
 posing her writer of the verses to the Imitator of Horace. 
 Now I can assure him they were wrote (without my know- 
 ledge) by a gentleman of great merit, whom I very much 
 esteem,^ who he will never guess, and who, if he did know, he 
 durst not attack ; but I own the design was so well meant, 
 and so excellently executed, that I cannot be sorry they were 
 written. I wish you would advise poor Pope to turn to some 
 more honest livehhood than libelling ; I know he will allege 
 in his excuse that he must write to eat, and he is now grown 
 sensible that nobody will buy his verses except their cmiosity 
 is piqued to it, to see what is said of their acquaintance ; but 
 I think this method of gain so exceeding vile that it admits 
 of no excuse at all. Can anything be more detestable than 
 his abusing poor Moore,^ scarce cold in his grave, when it is 
 plain he kept back his poem, while he lived, for fear he should 
 beat him for it 1 This is shocking to me, though of a man I 
 never spoke to and hardly knew by sight ; but I am seriously 
 concerned at the worse scandal he has heaped on Mr. Con- 
 greve,^ who was my friend, and whom I am obliged to justify, 
 because I can do it on my own knowledge, and, which is yet 
 farther, bring witness of it, from those who were then often 
 vrith me, that he was so far from loving Pope's rhyme, both 
 that and his conversation were perpetual jokes to him, exceed- 
 ing despicable in his opinion, and he has often made us laugh 
 in talking of them, being particularly pleasant on that subject. 
 As to Pope's being born of honest parents, I verily beheve it, 
 and will add one praise to his mother's character, that (though 
 I only knew her very old) she always appeared to me to have 
 much better sense than himself. I desire, sir, as a favour, 
 
 ^ Lord Hervey, wliom Pope had suspected of a joint authorship of the satire 
 alluded to long before the date of this letter. As to the question of authorship, 
 see note on the poem. — T. 
 
 2 James Moore Smythe, whom Pope attacked in his Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, 
 here referred to. It is unfortunate for Lady Mary's theory that Pope had at- 
 tacked him still more bitterly in other writings published in. Moore Smythe's life- 
 time. — T. 
 
 ' AUuding to the line : 
 
 " And Congreve loved and Swift endured my lays." — T. 
 
22 MISCELLANEOUS COREESPONDENCE. 
 
 that you would show this letter to Pope, and you will very 
 much obKge, sir, 
 
 Your humble servant. 
 
 Madam, — I was very unwilling to have my name made 
 use of in an affair in which I have no concern, and therefore 
 would not engage myself to speak to Mr. Pope ; but he 
 coming to my house the moment you went away, I gave him 
 as exact an account as I could of our conversation. 
 
 He said to me what I had taken the liberty to say to you, 
 that he wondered how the town would apply these Unes to any 
 but some noted common woman ; that he should yet be more 
 surprised if you should take them to yourself ; he named to 
 me four remarkable poetesses and scribblers, Mrs. Centlivre, 
 Mrs. Haywood, Mrs. Manley, and Mrs. Ben [Behn], ladies 
 famous, indeed, in their generation, and some of them esteemed 
 to have given very unfortunate favours to their friends, assur- 
 ing me that such only were the objects of his satire. 
 
 I hope this assurance will prevent your further mistake, 
 and any consequence upon so odd a subject. I have nothing 
 more to add. 
 
 Your ladyship's most humble and obedient servant.^ 
 
 TO THE EAEL OF STRAFFORD.^ 
 
 July 17 [1736]. 
 
 My Lord, — I am ashamed to give your lordship so much 
 trouble about this trifle after all the good nature and generosity 
 you have showed on this subject ; but it seems you forgot the 
 
 1 From Ruffhead's Life of Pope, 1769.— T. 
 
 2 Pope wag on terms of such close intimacy with Peterhorough, that it may be 
 safely assumed that this clever answer to Lady Mary's somewhat impolitic com- 
 plaints was dictated by Pope himself. — T. 
 
 ^ Thomas Wentworth Lord Raby, created Viscount "Wentworth and Earl of 
 Strafford in 1711. He was noted for his pride; and refused to be associated with 
 Prior in negotiations with Holland for the peace. After tlie accession of George I. 
 he was deprived of his otfices and impeached, but was not tried. He was a neigh- 
 bour of Lady Mary's at Twickenham. This and the following letter are now 
 printed from the originals among the Strafford papers in the British Museum. — T. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE. 23 
 
 name of your petitioner, which is EHzabeth White. The 
 vacancy has now happened; but she is refused admittance, 
 except your lordship gives her name under your hand. I beg 
 you would be so good to enclose a note to that purpose to me, 
 and I hope you will have no further trouble on this affair, but 
 the obUgation shall be ever gratefully remembered and ac- 
 knowledged by 
 
 My lord, your lordship's most obedient humble servant. 
 
 TO THE EARL OF STRAFFORD. 
 
 July 29, 1736. 
 
 My Lord, — You know how to do the most obliging thing 
 in the most obhging manner. In telling me that I have given 
 you pleasure, you do not only take from me the shame of being 
 troublesome, but have found a way to make me pleased with 
 myself, since I never can employ my time more to my own satis- 
 faction than in showing your lordship that I am, with the 
 utmost gratitude and esteem. 
 
 My lord, your lordship's most obedient humble servant. 
 
LETTERS 
 
 TO 
 
 THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET MD OTHERS. 
 
 1738—1762. 
 
 July 26, O.S., 1738. 
 
 I HOPE, dear madam, you find at least some amusement in 
 your travels,^ and though I cannot wish you to forget those 
 friends in England, who will never forget you, yet I should 
 be pleased to hear you were so far entertained as to take off 
 all anxiety from your mind. I know you are capable of 
 many pleasures that the herd of mankind are insensible of ; 
 and wherever you go I do not doubt you will find some people 
 that will know how to taste the happiness of your conversa- 
 tion. We are as much blinded in England by politics and 
 
 ' Lady Pomfret was a granddaughter of the infamous " Judge Jeffreys," and 
 daughter of John Lord Jeffreys of Wem, and Charlotte Herbert, daughter of Philip 
 Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery. She married, in 1720, Thomas FermorEarl 
 of Pomfret. He was master of the horse to Queen Caroline, to whom Lady Pomfret 
 ■was one of the ladies of the bedchamber. After the queen's death in 1737, Lord 
 and Lady Pomfret went abroad for several years. See allusion to Lady Pomfret 
 iu Introductory Anecdotes. — T. 
 
 ' Lady Pomfret was at this time in France,— T. 
 
LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 25 
 
 views of interest' as we are by mists and fogs, and 'tis neces- 
 sary to have a very uncommon constitution not to be tainted 
 with the distempers of our climate. I confess myself very 
 much infected with the epidemical dulness ; yet, as 'tis na- 
 tural to excuse one's own faults as much as possible, I am 
 apt to flatter myself that my stupidity is rather accidental 
 than real ; at least, I am sure that I want no vivacity when I 
 think of my Lady Pomfret, and that it is with the warmest 
 inclination as well as the highest esteem that I am ever affec- 
 tionately yours. 
 
 Here is no alteration since yon left us except in the 
 weather, and I would not entertain you with the journal of 
 the thermometer. I hope to hear soon from you. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 1738. 
 
 I AM afraid so quick a return of thanks will frighten your 
 ladyship from a continuance of this correspondence, but I 
 cannot help gratifying myself in saying something, yet I dare 
 not say half I think of your delightful letter ; though nobody 
 but myself could read it, and call anything complimental that 
 could be said of it. 
 
 'Tis as impossible to send an equivalent out of this stupid 
 town, as it would be to return a present of the fruits of Pro- 
 vence out of Lapland. We have no news, no trade, no sun, 
 and even our fools are all gone to play at Tunbridge, and 
 those that remain are only miserable invalids, who talk of 
 nothing but infirmities and remedies, as ladies who are on the 
 point of increasing the world, who speak of only nurses and 
 midwives. I do not believe either Cervantes or Rabelais 
 would be able to raise one moment's mirth from such subjects, 
 and I acquit myself of writing stupidly from this place, as I 
 should do Mr. Chloe,^ if he was condemned to furnish an 
 
 • The long rule of Sir Robert Walpole was now drawing to a close, and the 
 attacks of the Opposition becoming daily more formidable. — T. 
 
 2 " Monsieur Chlo^" was a French cook in the service of the Duke of New- 
 castle. He is alluded to in the following anecdote of Pulteney, which appears in 
 " The Characters of Lord Chesterfield Reviewed," 1777 (p. 44) : " The most agree- 
 
26 LETTERS TO THE COTTNTESS OF POMFEET. 
 
 entertainment out of rotten turnips and artichokes run to 
 seed. 
 
 I was in this part of my letter when young Vaillant^ 
 arrived at my door with a very pretty box in the name of 
 Lady Pomfret ; there needed nothing to keep up my regard 
 for you, yet I am deeply touched at every mark of your 
 attention. I believe he thought me very unreasonable, for I 
 insisted on it that he had also a letter. Let me entreat to 
 hear often from you. If I had the utmost indifference for 
 you, I should think your letters the greatest pleasure of my 
 life; and if you deputed Lady Vane^ to write for you, I 
 could find a joy in reading her nonsense, if it informed me of 
 your health. Judge, then, how important it is to me to hear 
 from you, and with what sincere attachment I am ever 
 yours. 
 
 I suppose your ladyship knows your friend Mr. West is in 
 the happy state of honeymoon. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 [September] 1738. 
 
 I BEGIN to think you are grown weary of so dull a corre- 
 spondent. 'Tis a long time since I sent my last letter, which 
 was full of acknowledgments for your obliging token and 
 entertaining letter. I am impatient to hear how you like the 
 place you are settled in, for settled I am told you are, though 
 I was not informed exactly where, only that it is not far from 
 
 able part of Pulteney's character was his fondness for convivial pleasures, — in 
 "which he bore a very agreeable and shining part. But though he loved company, 
 and gave dinners, the splendour of his entertainments -was always sullied by the 
 sordid economy of the treater. He once borrowed of the Duke of Newcastle, 
 Monsieur Chlo^, the celebrated cook, to prepare and superintend a dinner for the 
 first people in the kingdom. Chloe was out of all patience to find his plan of 
 entertainment curtailed by his avaricious employer ; and left the house in a pas- 
 sion."— T. 
 
 ' Probably a son of Paul Vaillant, a bookseller in the Strand, whose country- 
 house at Twickenham adjoined Lady Mary's. — T. 
 
 ^, '^ Lady "Vane, whose autobiography, under the name of Lady Frail, was pub- 
 lished in Smollett's " Peregrine Pickle." Her intrigues were notorious. She was 
 a daughter of Mr. Hawes, of Parley in Berkshire, and was married, first, to Lord 
 William Hamilton, and secondly, in 1735, to William second Viscount Vane of 
 the kingdom of Ireland. — T. 
 
LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 27 
 
 Paris,' which I am very glad of, being persuaded you will find 
 it much more pleasant, and every way as convenient as any of 
 those distant provinces you talked of. I suppose it is no news 
 to you that Lady Betty Finch^ is married to Mr. Murray. 
 People are divided in their opinions, as they commonly are, 
 on the prudence of her choice. I am among those who think, 
 tout Men compti, she has happily disposed of her person. 
 Lord Townshend' is spitting up his lungs at the Gravel-pits, 
 and his charming lady* diverting herself with daily rambles 
 in town. She has made a new friendship, which is very de- 
 lightful ; I mean with Madame Pulteney ; and they hunt in 
 couples from tea-drinking till midnight. 
 
 I won't trouble you with politics, though the vicissitudes 
 and conjectures are various. Lady Sundon^ drags on a 
 miserable life ; it is now said she has a cancerous humour in 
 her throat, which, if true, is so dismal a prospect as would 
 force compassion from her greatest enemies. I moralise in 
 my own dressing-room on the events I behold, and pity those 
 who are more concerned in them than myself ; but I think of 
 dear Lady Pomfret in a very different manner than I do of 
 
 ' Lord and Lady Pomfret were at this time at Monts, near Paris. — T. 
 
 ^ Lady Betty Finch, daughter of Daniel Earl of Nottingham (the Dismal of 
 Swift). It is very amusing to find that her marriage was thought an imprudent 
 one, considering how naturally we connect the idea of every kind of eminence — 
 talents, wisdom, wealth, and dignity — with the name of Lord Mansfield ; the Mr. 
 Murray here spoken of. But if Love is rash and blind. Prudence can sometimes 
 be short-sighted. — W. The marriage took place on the 7th of September, 1738. 
 — T. 
 
 3 The London Evening Post, of the 23rd of September, announces that his lord- 
 ship came " yesterday" from '* Kensington to his house in Grosvenor-square, for the 
 advice of his physicians, being in a very ill state of health." — T. 
 
 * Charles third Viscount Townshend, son of George the First's minister, mar- 
 ried Audrey, or, as she chose to call herself, Ethelrtda Harrison, the Lady Towns- 
 head whose wit and gallantries made so much noise during a great part of the last 
 century; — the supposed original of Lady Bellaston in " Tom Jones," and Lady 
 Tempest in *' Pompey the Little." She was the mother of George the first Marquis 
 Townshend, and of the famous Charles Townshend. — W. 
 
 * Lady Sundon — Mrs. Clayton — the favourite confidential bedchamber woman of 
 Queen Caroline ; her husband was latterly made an Irish peer. — W. Lady Sundon 
 was said to have received a pair of diamond earrings as a bribe for procuring the 
 place of master of the horse to Queen Caroline for Lord Pomfret. Walpole hints at 
 this in his " Reminiscences," and adds, " Decked with those jewels she paid a 
 visit to the old duchess (Sarah Duchess of Marlborough), who, as soon as she was 
 gone, said, 'What an impudent creature, to come here with her bribe in her ear.' 
 ' Madam,' replied Lady Mary Wortley, who was present, ' how should people know 
 where wine is sold unless a bush is hung out ?' " — T. 
 
28 LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 princes and potentates, and am warmly interested in every- 
 thing that regards her. Let me beg, then, to hear soon from 
 you, and, if you will honour me so far, let me have a parti- 
 cular account how you pass your time. You can have no 
 pleasure in which I shall not share, nor no uneasiness in 
 which I shall not suffer; but I hope there is no reason to 
 apprehend any, and that you are now in the perfect enjoy- 
 ment of uninterrupted tranquillity, and have already forgot 
 all the fogs and spleen of England. However, remember 
 your less happy friends that feel the pain of your absence; 
 and always number amongst them 
 
 Your faithful, &c. &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 [October?] 1738. 
 
 Yesteedat was very fortunate to me ; it brought two of 
 your ladyship's letters. I will not speak my thoughts of them, 
 but must insist once for all that you lay aside all those phrases 
 of tiring me, ashamed of your dulness, &c. &c. I can't help, 
 when I read them, either doubting your sincerity, or fearing 
 you have a worse opinion of my judgment than I desire you 
 should have. Spare me those disagreeable reflections; and 
 be assured, if I hated you, I should read your letters with 
 pleasure ; and that I love you enough to be charmed with 
 hearing from you, though you knew not how to spell. 
 
 The delightful description of your retirement makes me 
 wish to partake it with you ; but I have been so much accus- 
 tomed to wish in vain, that I dare not flatter myself with so 
 pleasing an idea. We are wrapt up in fogs and consequen- 
 tial stupidity, which increases so visibly, we want but httle of 
 the state of petrifaction which was said to befal an African 
 town. However, there remains still some lively people 
 amongst us that play the fool with great alacrity. Lady 
 Sophia KeppeP has declared her worthy choice of the amiable 
 
 ■ This must have been written before November 11, as the London Evening 
 Post of that date announces that " Captain Thomas, late of the troop of Horse 
 Guards, who married the Lady Sophia Keppel, sister to the Earl of Albemarle, is 
 promoted to * * company of Foot at Gibraltar." — T. 
 
LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFEET. 29 
 
 Captain Thomas. Poor Lady Frances Montagu is on the 
 point of renouncing the pomps and vanities of this world, and 
 confining herself to rural shades with Sir Roger Bur- 
 goyne,' whose mansion-house will, I believe, perfectly re- 
 semble Mr. SuUen's;^ but, as we are in dead peace, I am 
 afraid there is no hope of a French count to enliven her soli- 
 tude. It is reported a much greater, fairer lady^ is going to 
 be disposed of to a much worse retreat, at least I should think 
 so. 'Tis terrible to be the fifth in rank after having been the 
 first, but such is the hard condition of our sex ; women and 
 priests never know where they shall eat their bread. 
 
 All the polite and the gallant are either gone or preparing 
 for the Bath.^ You may suppose Lady Hervey would not 
 fail appearing there, where I am told she has made a mar- 
 vellous union with the Duchess of Manchester, and writes from 
 thence that she is charmed with her grace's sweetness of 
 temper. The Duchess of Richmond declares a design of 
 passing the winter at Goodwood, where she has had a succes- 
 sion of olios of company. It is said very gravely that this 
 loss to the town is occasioned by the suspension of operas. 
 We have no less than fifty-three French strollers arrived to 
 supply their place ; and Monsieur de Cambis^ goes about with 
 great solemnity negotiating to do them service. These are 
 the most important events that are come to my knowledge ; 
 perhaps I should remember some more serious if I was so 
 happy as to be with you. I am very glad to hear of the 
 return of Lady Sophia's* health and beauty. My dear Lady 
 Pomfret has on all occasions my warmest wishes, and the 
 truest esteem and affection of 
 
 Your faithful, &c. &c. 
 
 • Sir Eoger married, in January following, Lady Frances Montagu, eldest 
 duugiiter of the first Earl of Halifax. — T. 
 
 2 Alluding to Farquhar's play of the Beaux Stratagem. — T. 
 
 3 Probably referring to the contemplated marriage of the king's daughter, the 
 Princess Mary, with Frederick, Landgrave of Hesse Cassel, which took place on 
 the 8th of May, 1740.— T. 
 
 * The Prince and Princess of Wales were among the visitors. The London Even- 
 ing Post, of September 28, says : " It is thought Bath will be fuller this season 
 than ever known." — T. 
 
 ' The French ambassador. — T. 
 
 " Lady Sophia Fermor, Lady Pomfret's daughter. See note, post, p. 101. — T. 
 
30 LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFKET. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 [October] 1738. 
 
 There are some moments when I have so great an inclina^ 
 tion to converse with dear Lady Pomfret, that I want but 
 Httle of galloping to Paris to sit with you one afternoon; 
 which would very well pay me for my journey. Though this 
 correspondence has every charm in it to make a correspon- 
 dence agreeable, yet I have still a thousand things to say and 
 hear, which cannot be communicated at this distance. Our 
 mobsi grow very horrible ; here are a vast number of legs and 
 arms that only want a head to make a very formidable body. 
 But while we readers of history are, perhaps, refining too 
 much, the happier part of our sex are more usefully employed 
 in preparation for the birthday,* where I hear Lady Pembroke 
 is to shine in a particular manner, and Lady Cowper^ to ex- 
 hibit some new devices worthy of her geniiis. The Bath is 
 the present scene of gallantry and magnificence, where many 
 caresses are bestowed, not from admiration of the present, but 
 from spite to the absent. The most remarkable circumstance 
 I hear is a coolness in the Earl of Chesterfield, which occasions 
 much speculation ; it must be disagreeable to play an under- 
 part in a second-rate theatre. To me that have always been 
 an humble spectator, it appears odd, to see so few desirous 
 to quit the stage, though time and infirmities have disabled 
 them from making a tolerable figure there. Our drama is at 
 present carried on by such whimsical management, I am half 
 inclined to think we shall shortly have no plays at all. I begin 
 to be of opinion that the new Northern actress has very good 
 sense ; she hardly appears at all, and by that conduct almost 
 wears out the disapprobation of the pubHc.^ I believe you are 
 
 ' Serious riots broke out at Kingswood and Bristol in October. The magis- 
 trates of the latter town sent an express to Court with an account of the proceed- 
 ings.— T. 
 
 2 The king's birthday, 30th of October.— T. 
 
 3 Lady Henrietta d'Auverquerque, youngest daughter of the Earl of Grantham, 
 married June 27, 1732, to William Earl Cowper. — T. 
 
 * Sophia de Walmoden, afterwards Countess of Yarmouth. " The last in- 
 stance," says Lord Stanhope, " in our annals of a British peerage bestowed upon 
 a royal mistress." Madame Walmoden, or Walmonte, as the English journals 
 spelt her name, arrived in England about the 15th of June, 1738, with her bus- 
 
LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 31 
 
 already tired with this long dissertation on so trifling a sub- 
 ject ; I wish I could enliven my letter with some account of 
 literature ; but wit and pleasiu-e are no more, and people play 
 the fool with great impunity ; being very sure there is not 
 spirit enough left in the nation to set their follies in a ridicu- 
 lous light. Pamphlets are the sole productions of our modern 
 authors, and those profoundly stupid. To you that enjoy a 
 purer air, and meet at least with vivacity whenever you meet 
 company, this may appear extcaordinary ; but recollect, dear 
 madam, in what condition you left us ; and you will easily 
 believe to what state we are fallen. I know nothing lively 
 but what I feel in my own heart, and that only in what relates 
 to your ladyship ; in other respects I partake of the contagion, 
 as you will plainly see by these presents ; but 1 am ever, with 
 the utmost affection. 
 
 Yours, &c. &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 1738. 
 
 I WILL say nothing of your complaints of your own dvd- 
 ness ; I should say something very rough if I did ; 'tis im- 
 possible to reconcile them to the sincerity that I am willing to 
 flatter myself I find in the other parts of your letter. 'Tis 
 impossible you should not be conscious that such' letters as 
 
 band, the baron. Their arrival created much gossip. The Duchess of Marlbo- 
 rough writes on the 20th : " This Madame de Walmond is at present in a mighty 
 mean, dirty lodging in St. James's-street. Her husband came with her, but he is 
 going away ; and that house that was Mr. Seymour's in Hyde Park, which opens into 
 the king's garden, is fitting np for her ; and the Duchess of Kendal's lodgings are 
 making ready for her at St. James's. There is nothing more known at present as 
 to the settlement, but that directions are given for one upon the establishment of 
 Ireland. Perhaps that mayn't exceed the Duchess of Kendal's, which was three 
 thousand pounds a year." The " mean, dirty lodging," according to the news- 
 papers, was at " Madame Peltier's, in St. James's-street," where the baron and his 
 lady, upon their arrival, " had a great levee, after which they waited on his ma- 
 jesty at Kensington." The baroness's " great levees" are thus described in the 
 London Evening Post of the 24th : " Last week, and this, several persons of dis- 
 tinction of both sexes had the honour to be presented to a foreign lady newly 
 arrived here. The ceremonial as to precedency was exactly observed upon this 
 occasion, being introduced one after another according to their respective ranks." 
 Splendid entertainments were given to her by the nobility, who certainly do not 
 appear to have been much shocked by the openness of royal profligacy. — T. 
 
 ' It is diificult to believe these praises sincere. If they were. Lady Mary ad- 
 mired a style very unlike her own. A parcel of Lady Pomfret's letters, addressed 
 
32 LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 yours want not the trimmings of news, which are only- 
 necessary to the plain Spitalfields style, beginning with 
 hoping you are in good health, and concluding pray believe me 
 to be, &c. &c. You give me all the pleasure of an agreeable 
 author ; and I really wish you had leisure to give me all the 
 length too, and that all your letters were to come to me in 
 twelve tomes. You will stare at this impudent wish ; but you 
 know imagination has no bounds ; and 'tis harder for me to 
 be content with a moderate quantity of your writing, than it 
 was for any South Sea director to resolve to get no more. 
 This is a strange way of giving thanks ; however, 'tis the 
 clearest proof of my tasting my happiness in your correspon- 
 dence, to beg so earnestly not only the continuance but the 
 increase of it. 
 
 1 hear of a new lady-errant, who is set forth to seek ad- 
 ventures at Paris, attended by her enchanter. These are Mrs. 
 Bromley and Anthony Henley,' who, I am told, declares very 
 gallantly that he designs to oblige her to sell her large jointure 
 to furnish money for his menus plaisirs. This is the freshest 
 news from the Island of Love. Amongst those bound for the 
 golden coast (which are far more numerous), there arise every 
 day new events. The Duchess of Northumberland's^ wiU 
 raises a great bustle among those branches of the royal blood. 
 She has left a young niece, very pretty, lively enough, just 
 fifteen, to the care of Captain Cole, who was director of Lady 
 Bernard. The girl has three hundred pounds per annum 
 allowed for her maintenance, but is never to touch her fortime 
 till she marries, which she is not to do without his consent ; 
 and if she dies without issue, her twenty thousand pounds to 
 be divided between the children of the Duchess of St. Albans 
 
 to Lady M, W. M., in England, were formerly in the possession of Lady Bute : 
 they were grossly flattering, dull, pompous, and affected. One of them contained 
 such a fulsome panegyric upon our most gracious and excellent sovereign 
 (George II.), that Lady Bute, when she read it, exclaimed, " Why the woman 
 surely must have meant this to be opened at the post-office." — W. 
 
 ' Anthony Henley of the Grange, elder brother of the Chancellor Northington. 
 He was said to have very good parts, but was a man of the most profligate and 
 dissipated habits. — W. 
 
 2 This Duchess of Northumberland must have been the widow of George Fitz- 
 roy, Charles the Second's youngest son by the Duchess of Cleveland. — W. 
 
LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFBET. 33 
 
 and Lord Litchfield. The heirs-at-law contest the fantastical 
 will, and the present tittle-tattle of visits turns upon the 
 subject. 
 
 Lord Townshend has renewed his lease of life by his French 
 journey, and is at present situated in his house in Grosvenor- 
 street in perfect health. ■ My good lady is coming from the 
 Bath to meet him with the joy you may imagine. Kitty 
 Edwin has been the companion of his [her 1] pleasures there. 
 The alliance seems firmer than ever between them, after their 
 Tunbridge battles,' which served for the entertainment of the 
 public. The secret cause is variously guessed at ; but it is 
 certain Lady Tovnishend came into the great room gently 
 behind her friend, and tapping her on the shoulder with her 
 fan, said aloud, / know where, how, and who. These myste- 
 rious words drew the attention of all the company, and had 
 such an effect upon poor Kitty, she was carried to her lodgings 
 in strong hysterics. However, by the intercession of prudent 
 mediators peace was concluded ; and if the conduct of these 
 heroines was considered in a true light, perhaps it might sen'^e 
 for an example even to higher powers, by showing that the 
 surest method to obtain a lasting and honourable peace, is to 
 begin with vigorous war. But leaving these reflections, which 
 are above my capacity, permit me to repeat my desire of hear- 
 ing often from you. Your letters would be my greatest 
 pleasure if I had flourished in the first years of Henry the 
 Eighth's court ; judge then how welcome they are to me in 
 the present desolate state of this deserted town of London. 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 1738. 
 
 I SHOULD take your ladyship's question (whether I should 
 
 always desire your friendship) very unkindly, if I was in the 
 
 * Lady Hertford' also alludes to the " Tunbridge battles" in a letter ti> t\K 
 Countess of Pomfret, of September 18, 1738. " I dare say you have heard from 
 people who are better informed than I am of the quarrels which have taken place 
 at Tunbridge, and which I am told have occasioned some very scandalous lampoons. 
 The people concerned in them were my Lady Townshend and Mrs. Edwin." — 
 Hertford Corr., 2nd edit. i. 31.— T. 
 
 VOL. II. D 
 
34 LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 least disposed to quarrel with you ; it is very mucli doubting 
 both my understanding and morals, two very tender points. 
 But I am more concerned for your opinion of the last than 
 the other, being persuaded 'tis easier for you to forgive an in- 
 voluntary error of the head than a levity in the mind, of which 
 (give me leave to say) I am utterly incapable ; and you must 
 give me very great proofs of my being troublesome before you 
 will be able to get rid of me. I passed two very agreeable 
 evenings last week with Lady Bell Finch ;^ we had the mutual 
 pleasure of talking of you, and joined in very sincere wishes 
 for your company. 
 
 The reasons of Lord Morpeth's^ leaving Caen are variously 
 told ; I believe Lady Carlisle is persuaded he was not properly 
 used there ; 1 hear he is with his father at Venice : the whole 
 seems odd ; but it is not possible to know the true motives of 
 people's conduct in their families ; which may be very reason- 
 able, when it does not appear so. Here are some few births, 
 but neither marriages or burials worth mentioning. Lady 
 Townshend has entertained the Bath with a variety of lively 
 scenes ; and Lady Harriet Herbert' furnished the tea-tables 
 here with fresh tattle for this last fortnight. I was one of the 
 first informed of her adventure by Lady Gage, who was told 
 that morning by a priest, that she had desired him to marry 
 her the next day to Beard, who sings in the farces at Drury 
 Lane.* He refused her that good office, and immediately told 
 
 ' Another daughter of the Earl of Nottingham. — W. 
 
 2 Lord Morpeth was then a youth, residing abroad for his health and education ; 
 of course this relates to his heing removed from one place to another; it appears 
 by other letters that he shortly after died. — "W". 
 
 * Lady Henrietta Herbert. Henrietta and Harriet were at one time frequently 
 employed indifferently. So Prior, in a poem, addresses Henrietta Countess of Ox- 
 ford as " Lady Harriet."— T. 
 
 * John Beard, a well-known operatic singer and manager. Lady Henrietta 
 Herbert, who was a daughter of the Earl of Waldegrave, had been singularly un- 
 fortunate in her first marriage to Lord Edward Herbert, who died four months after 
 their marriage, and seven months before the birth of their daughter. Lady Henrietta 
 had been four years a widow when she married Beard, and was still only twenty-two 
 years of age. Their marriage was publicly announced in the London Evening Post 
 on the 15th of January following. Lord Whamcliffe spealcs of Beard as "an in- 
 different character," but this appears to be a mistake. His contemporaries mention 
 him with respect. Miss Hawkins, daughter of Sir John Hawkins, speaks in the 
 highest terms of Beard, and mentions " his many virtues." She must have kno^vn 
 him well, for she tells us that " Mr. Beard, the very respectable oratorio singer, was 
 
LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS GF POMFEET. 35 
 
 Lady Gage, who (having been unfortunate in her friends) 
 was frighted at this affair and asked my advice. I told her 
 honestly, that since the lady was capable of such amours, I did 
 not doubt if this was broke off she would bestow her person 
 and fortune on some hackney-coachman or chairman ; and 
 that I really saw no method of saving her from ruin, and her 
 family from dishonour, but by poisoning her ; and offered to 
 be at the expense of the arsenic, and even to administer it 
 with my own hands, if she would invite her to drink tea with 
 her that evening. But on her not approving that method, 
 she sent to Lady Montaciite, Mrs. Dunch, and all the relations 
 within the reach of messengers. They carried Lady Harriet 
 to Twickenham ; though I told them it was a bad air for girls. 
 She is since returned to London, and some people believe her 
 to be married ; others, that he is too much intimidated by Mr. 
 Waldegrave's' threats to dare to go through the ceremony; 
 but the secret is now public, and in what manner it will con- 
 clude I know not. Her relations have certainly no reason to 
 be amazed at her constitution ; but are violently surprised at 
 the mixture of devotion that forces her to have recourse to the 
 Chiu'ch in her necessities ; which has not been the road taken 
 by the matrons of her family. Such examples are very detri- 
 mental to our whole sex ; and are apt to influence the other 
 into a belief that we are unfit' to manage either liberty or 
 money. These melancholy reflections make me incapable of 
 a Hvely conclusion to my letter ; you must accept of a very 
 sincere one in the assurance that I am, dear madam, 
 
 Inviolably yoiu's, &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 [January, 1739.] 
 
 Amidst the shining gallantries of the French court, I know 
 not how you will receive a stupid letter from these regions of 
 
 one of my father's early acquaintance ; and having married a lady of very high 
 rank, was his near neighbour, residing very handsomely at Hampton." — Anecdotes^ 
 ^c, collected by Sophia Matilda NawJcins, 1822, i. 13. — T. 
 ' Probably one of the lady's brothers. — T. 
 
 d2 
 
36 LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 dulness, where even our ridiculous actions (which are very- 
 frequent, I confess) have a certain air of formality that hinders 
 them from being risible, at the same time that they are absurd. 
 I think Lady Anne Lumley's' marriage may be reckoned into 
 this number, who is going to espouse with great gravity a 
 younger brother of Sir Thomas Frankland's. There are great 
 struggles and many candidates for her place. Lady Anne 
 Montagu, daughter to Lord Halifax, is one of them ; and 
 Lady Charlotte Eich, Lady Betty Herbert, and the incom- 
 parable Lady Bateman, are her cortipetitors. 
 
 I saw Mrs. Bridgeman^ the other day, who is much pleased 
 with a letter she has had the honour to receive from your lady- 
 ship : she broke out, ^^ Really Lady Pomfret writes finely !" 
 I very readily joined in her opinion ; she continued, " Oh, so 
 neat, no interlineations, and such proper distances ! " This 
 manner of praising your style made me reflect on the necessity 
 of attention to trifles, if one would please in general — a rule 
 terribly neglected by me formerly ; yet it is certain that some 
 men are as much struck with the careless twist of a tippet, as 
 others are by a pair of fine eyes. 
 
 Lady Vane^ is returned hither in company with Lord 
 
 * Sister of the then Earl of Scarborough. She married in February, 1739, 
 Frederick Franlcland, Esq., of Roebampton, Surrey, M.P. for Thirsk, and was suc- 
 ceeded in her place of lady of the bedchamber to the Princesses Amelia and 
 Caroline by the Lady Anne Montagu, mentioned in the text. The story of Lady 
 Frankland is a tragic one. She appears to have been as unhappy in her marriage 
 as in her " court afflictions and resentments." Her husband took an almost insane 
 dislike to her three weeks only after their marriage, laying no fault to her charge, 
 but only declaring that .she was bis aversion, and tlireatening if she did not leave 
 him to kill her or himself. The lady, after begging in vain to be allowed to re- 
 main under his roof, accordingly parted with him, receiving back her fortune, with 
 an allowance from her husband of six hundred pounds a year, and a thousand 
 pounds to buy a house. Poor Lady Frankland survived this trouble but a twelve- 
 month.— T. 
 
 2 A daughter of Sir Orlando Bridgeman. — T. 
 
 ' See note on letter to Lady Pomfret, ante, p. 26. The lady's liaison with Lord 
 Berkeley appears nearly three years later to have been still matter of public 
 scandal; for Horace Walpole, in a letter to Mann, of November 23, 1741, thus 
 alludes to it : " You cannot imagine what an entertaining fourth act of the opera 
 we had the other night. Lord Vane in the middle of the pit making love to my 
 lady [his wife]. The Duke of Newcastle has lately given him three score thou- 
 sand pounds to consent to cut off the entail of the Newcastle estate. The fool 
 immediately wrote to his wife to beg she would return to him from Lord Berkeley, 
 that he had got so much money and now they might live comfortably ; but she will 
 not live comforUihhj, She is at Lord Berkeley's house, whither go divers after 
 
LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFKET. 37 
 
 Berkeley, and went with him in pubHc to Oranford, where 
 they remain as happy as love and youth can make them. I 
 am told that though she does not pique herself upon fidelity to 
 any one man (which is but a narrow way of thinking), she 
 boasts that she has always been true to her nation, and, not- 
 withstanding foreign attacks, has always reserved her charms 
 for the use of her own countrymen. I forget you are at 
 Paris, and 'tis not polite to trouble you with such long scrawls 
 as might perhaps be supportable at Monts ; but you must give 
 me leave to add, that I am, with a true sense of yoivc merit, for 
 ever yours, in the largest extent of that expression. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 1738. [March, 1739.] 
 
 I AM so well acquainted with the lady you mention, that I 
 am not surprised at any proof of her want of judgment ; she 
 is one of those who has passed upon the world vivacity in the 
 place of understanding ; for me, who think with Boileau, 
 
 " Rien n'est beau que le vrai, le vrai seul est aimable," , 
 
 I have always thought those geniuses much inferior to the 
 plain sense of a coolcmaid, who can make a good pudding and 
 keep the kitchen in good order. 
 
 Here is no news to be sent you from this place, which has 
 been for this fortnight and still continues overwhelmed with 
 politics, and which are of so mysterious a nature, one ought to 
 have some of the gifts of Lilly or Partridge to be able to write 
 about them ; and I leave all those dissertations to those distin- 
 guished mortals who are endowed vidth the talent of divination ; 
 though I am at present the only one of my sex who seems to 
 be of that opinion, the ladies having shown their zeal and 
 appetite for knowledge in a most glorious manner. At the 
 last warm debate in the House of Lords, it was unanimously 
 resolved there should be no crowd of unnecessary auditors ; 
 consequently the fair sex were excluded, and the gallery 
 
 her." Neither of Lady Vane's husbands appears to have been famous for good 
 sense. — T. 
 
38 LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFEET. 
 
 destined to the sole use of the House of Commons. Notwith- 
 standing which determination, a tribe of dames resolved to 
 show on this occasion that neither men nor laws could resist 
 them. These heroines were Lady Huntingdon,' the Duchess 
 of Queensberry, the Duchess of Ancaster, Lady Westmore- 
 land, Lady Cobham, Lady Charlotte Edwin, Lady Archibald 
 Hamilton and her daughter, Mrs. Scott, and Mrs. Pendarves, 
 and Lady Frances Saunderson. I am thus pivrticular in their 
 names, since I look upon them to be the boldest assertors, and 
 most resigned sufferers for liberty, I ever read of. They pre- 
 sented themselves at the door at nine o'clock in the morning, 
 where Sir William Saunderson respectfully informed them the 
 Chancellor had made an order against their admittance. The 
 Duchess of Queensberry, as head of the squadron, pished 
 at the ill-breeding of a mere lawyer, and desired him to let 
 them up stairs privately. After some modest refusals, he 
 swore by G — he would not let them in. Her grace, with a 
 noble warmth, answered, by G — they would come in in spite 
 of the Chancellor and the whole House. This being reported, 
 the Peers resolved to starve them out; an order was made 
 that the doors should not be opened till they had raised their 
 siege. These Amazons now showed themselves qualified for 
 the duty even of foot soldiers ; they stood there till five in the 
 afternoon, without either sustenance or evacuation, every now 
 and then playing volleys of thiimps, kicks, and raps against the 
 door, with so much violence that the speakers in the House 
 were scarce heard. When the Lords were not to be conquered 
 by this, the two duchesses (very well apprised of the use of 
 stratagems in war) commanded a dead silence of half an hour ; 
 and the Chancellor, who thought this a certain proof of their 
 absence (the Commons also being very impatient to enter), 
 gave order for the opening of the door ; upon which they all 
 rushed in, pushed aside their competitors, and placed them- 
 selves in the front rows of the gallery. They stayed there till 
 after eleven, when the House rose; and during the debate 
 
 ' Lady Huntingdon, the same who afterwards became the bead, the Countess 
 MatUda, of the Whitfleldian Methodists.— W. 
 
LETTERS TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFEET. 39 
 
 gave applause, and showed marks of dislike, not only by smiles 
 and winks (which have always been allowed in these cases), 
 but by noisy laughs and apparent contempts ; which is sup- 
 posed the true reason why poor Lord Hervey spoke miserably.^ 
 I beg your pardon, dear madam, for this long relation ; but 
 'tis impossible to be short on so copious a subject ; and you 
 must own this action veiy well worthy of record, and I think 
 not to be paralleled in history, ancient or modem. I look so 
 little in my own eyes (who was at that tmie ingloriously sitting 
 over a tea-table), I hardly dare subscribe myself even, 
 
 Yours. ■ 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFEET. 
 
 May 2, O.S., 1739. 
 
 It is with gTeat pleasure, dear madam, that I hear from you, 
 after a silence that appeared very long to me. Nothing can 
 be more agreeable or more obliging than your letter. I can 
 give you no greater proof of the impression it made on me 
 than letting you know that you have given me so great an in- 
 clination to see Italy once more, that I have serious thoughts 
 
 ' The debate referred to was on the conduct of the Spanish government, and took 
 place on Thursday, March 1, 1739. Mrs. Pendarves, afterwards Mrs. Delany, gives 
 
 the following account of the matter ; " Lady Westmoreland and the 
 
 Duchess of Queensberry, Mrs. Fortescue and myself, set forward for Westminster, 
 and got up to the gallery door without any difficulty. There were thirteen ladies 
 more that came with the same intention. To tell you all the particulars of our 
 provocations, the insults of the doorkeepers and our unshaken intrepidity, would 
 flourish out more paper than a single frank would contain ; but we bore the buffets 
 of a stinking crowd from half an hour after ten till five in the afternoon without 
 moving an inch from our places, only see-sawing about as the motion of the multi- 
 tude forced us. At last, our committee resolved to adjourn to the coffee-house of the 
 Court of Request, where debates began how we were to proceed ? It was agreed ^ 
 amongst us to address Sir Charles Dalton [gentleman usher of the Black Rod] for 
 admittance. The address was presented, and an answer returned that ' whilst one 
 lady remained in the passage to the gallery the door should not be opened for the 
 members of the House of Commons,' so we generously gave them the liberty of 
 taking their places. As soon as the door was opened they all rushed in, and we 
 
 followed The Duke of Argyle spoke soon after we came in, but before 
 
 that my Lord Cholmondeley moved that an address of thanks should be sent to the 
 king for the convention. The minority opposed it gallantly. My Lord Chester- 
 field spoke most exquisitely well Everything after him was dull 
 
 and heavy ; much circumjloribus stufl* was talked of on the court side. They 
 might have spared their breath. Their convincing argument was in their pockets, 
 not on their tongues. They had a majority of twenty-one, and though they 
 seemingly conquered, they made a poor figure." — Autohiog. and Corres. of Mr$. 
 Ddany, ii. U.—1!. 
 
40 CORKESPONDENCE -WITH 
 
 of setting out the latter end of this summer. And what the 
 remembrance of all the charms of music, sculpture, painting, 
 architecture, and even the sun itseK could not do, the know- 
 ledge that Lady Pomfret is there has effected ;' and I already 
 figure to myself the charms of the brightest conversation in 
 the brightest climate. We have nothing here but clouds and 
 perpetual rains, nor no news but deaths and sickness. Lord 
 Halifax^ died this morning, and I am really touched for the 
 melancholy situation of his numerous family. A loss more 
 peculiarly my own is that of poor Lady Stafford,^ whose last 
 remains of life I am daily watching with a fruitless sorrow, 
 believe a very few months, perhaps weeks, will part us for 
 ever. You, who have a heart capable of friendship, may 
 imagine to what a degree I am shocked at such a separation, 
 which so much disorders my thoughts, as renders me unfit to 
 entertain myself or any others. This reflection must shorten 
 my letter. In you I hope to repair the loss of her, and when 
 we meet, I am persuaded there will not be many regrets sent 
 to England by, dear madam, 
 
 Your faithful and affectionate, &c. 
 
 TO ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU.'' 
 
 Dartford [25th July, 1739]. 
 
 I STAYED an hour with the Duchess of Montague, and am 
 arrived here at twelve o'clock, less fatigued than I expected. 
 I should be very glad to hear you are well ; if you write to 
 me to be left at the post-house at Dover, I suppose I may have 
 your letter before I leave that place. 
 
 * ' Lady Pomfret had not left France at the date of this letter. She was at Mar- 
 seilles, on her way to Italy, on the 28th May. — T. 
 
 "■* Made Earl of Halifax by a fresh creation after the death of his uncle Charles, 
 Tvho had been a minister under King William and George I., and "whose barony, 
 given by the former, was already settled upon him. Both became extinct upon 
 his son's dying without male issue. — W. 
 
 3 Already referred to. She died at her house in Sackville-street, Piccadilly, on 
 the 14th May, and was buried in St. James's church. — T. 
 
 * The letters of Lady Mary to her husband during her long residence abroad, 
 are, with scarcely one exception, indorsed by the latter with the day when received, 
 and with the date of his answer, which generally follows within a few days. This 
 letter is indorsed " A'' 26." Except where stated to the contrary, the letters to 
 Mr. Wortley Montagu and the Countess of Bute in this section are now printed 
 from the originals among the Wortley papers. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 41 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 July 26 [1739]. 
 
 I AM safely arrived at Dover, without any accident, and 
 have borne the journey very well. I have foUowed your 
 direction in sending for Mr. Hall,' who has been very civil. 
 By his advice I have hired a boat for five guineas, otherwise I 
 must have gone in the night, which he counselled me not to 
 do. The wind is fair, and I hope to be in Calais to-morrow. 
 I cannot say I am well, but I think not worse for my journey. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 [Calais] July 27 [1739]. 
 
 I AM safely arrived at Calais, and found myself better on 
 ship-board than I have been these si?; months ; not in the least 
 sick, though we had a very high sea, as you may imagine, 
 since we came over in two hours and three-quarters. My 
 servants behaved very well ; and Mary not in the least afraid, 
 but said she would be drowned very willingly with my lady- 
 ship. They ask me here extravagant prices for chaises, of 
 which there is a great choice, both French and Italian : I have 
 at last bought one for fourteen guineas, of a man whom Mr. 
 Hall recommended to me. My things have been examined 
 and sealed at the custom-house : they took from me a pound 
 of snuff, but did not open my jewel-boxes, which they let pass 
 on my word, being things belonging to my dress. I set out 
 early to-moiTOw. I am very impatient to hear from you : I 
 could not stay for the post at Dover for fear of losing the tide. 
 I beg you would be so good to order Mr. Kent^ to pack up 
 my side-saddle, and all the tackling belonging to it, in a box, 
 to be sent with my other things : if (as I hope) I recover my 
 health abroad so much as to ride, I can get none I shall like 
 so well. 
 
 * There are letters from this gentleman, who signs " Richard Halla," among the 
 Wortley papers. He probably held some oflBcial appointment — perhaps in the 
 Custom-house at Dover. — T. 
 
 ' Thomas Kent. He appears to have been a secretary of Mr. Wortley Mon- 
 tagu.— T. 
 
42 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 FROM MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU.^ 
 
 Aug. 13, 1739. 
 
 I SUPPOSE you was advised at Boulogne^ to go through 
 Laon, but I should be glad to know whether you took that 
 road as the best to Dijon, or only to avoid Paris ; also whether 
 you went by Cambray ; and where you left the Paris road- 
 If you mention a few of the great towns you have passed, I 
 shall see the whole journey. As you had cold rains, I am at 
 a loss to guess, whether the fires were occasioned by the fault 
 of the weather or of your chaise. I wish (if it be easy) you 
 would be exact and clear in your facts, because I shall lay by 
 carefully what you write of your travels. I suppose the diffi- 
 cult part is over, and that from Dijon you might, if you pleased, 
 go in an open boat to any of the places you seem to like, with 
 as much safety as you could travel on the Thames ; but I am 
 persuaded, you will find easy journeys by land more healthy 
 and pleasant. — The other letter that comes to you this post, 
 was kept back by T. K.'s [Kent's] mistake. I choose not to 
 open it to write what is in this, as I have not yet added much 
 paper to your baggage. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Dijon, Aug. 18, N.S. [1739].' 
 
 I AM at length arrived here very safely, and without any 
 bad accident ; and so much mended in my health, that I am 
 surprised at it. France is so much improved, it is not to be 
 known to be the same country we passed through twenty years 
 ago. Everything I see speaks in praise of Cardinal Fleury; 
 the roads are all mended, and the greatest part of them paved 
 as well as the streets of Paris, planted on both sides like the 
 roads in Holland ; and such good care taken against robbers, 
 
 • The letters from Mr. Wortley Montagu in this section are mostly printed 
 from drauglits in his handwriting. — T. 
 
 ^ Mr. Hulls, in a letter from Dover, of 28th July, says: " Her ladyship intend- 
 ing to stay two or three days at Boulogne, she desires me to send those letters after 
 her."— T. 
 
 = The Gregorian Calendar was at this time adopted in most Catholic countries 
 on the Continent, and Lady Mary accordingly generally dates these letters accord- 
 ing to the new style, which was eleven days later than the old style in use iii 
 England. Several of her letters, however, still observe the old style, which leads to 
 some apparent confusion. — T. 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 43 
 
 that you may cross the country with your purse in your hand: 
 but as to travelhng incognito, I may as well walk incognito in 
 the Pall-Mali. There is not any town in France where there 
 is not English, Scotch, or Irish families established; and I 
 have met with people that have seen me (though often such as 
 I do not remember to have seen) in every town I have passed 
 through ; and I think the farther I go, the more acquaintance 
 I meet. Here are in this town no less than sixteen English 
 families of fashion. Lord Mansel lodges in the house with 
 me, and a daughter of Lord Bathurst's, Mrs. Whichcote, 
 [Mrs. Whitshed]! is in the same street. The Duke of Rutland 
 is gone from hence some time ago, which Lady Peterborough 
 told me at St. Omer's ; which was one reason determined me 
 to come here, thinking to be quiet ; but I find it is impossible 
 and that will make me leave the place, after the return of this 
 post. The French are more changed than their roads ; instead 
 of pale, yellow faces, wrapped up in blankets, as we saw them, 
 the villages are all filled with fresh-coloured lusty peasants, 
 in good cloth and clean linen. In is incredible the air of 
 plenty and content that is over the whole country. I hope to 
 hear, as soon as possible, that you are in good health. 
 
 FROM MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Aug. 16, 1739. 
 
 Though you are surprised, I am not at all, that your health 
 is so much mended. I have hitherto found travelling a never 
 failing remedy for every disorder of the head or stomach. 
 They are occasioned by a settlement of humours, which are 
 removed by exercise, and carried off in * * or perspiration. I 
 have not yet had the benefit of a journey into the North, but 
 I hope I shall in a fortnight or three weeks. All things here 
 are just as you left them, except the weather, which has been 
 warmest in August. The showers and clouds have been as 
 frequent as they were in Cassar's time, and will, I fear, continue 
 so till the sun or the globe has undergone some great change. 
 
 ' The wife of James Whitshed, Esij., some time M.P. for Cirencester. — T, 
 
44 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 I answer yours of the 18th to-day, though it came but yester- 
 day, because you write you will stay at Dijon till the return 
 of the post. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Turin, Sept. 10 [O.S., 1739]. 
 I AM now, thank God, happily past the Alps. 1 believe I 
 wrote to you, that I had met English of my acquaintance in 
 every town in France. This fortune continued to the last ; 
 for at Pont Beauvoisin I met Lord Carlisle,^ who was in the 
 inn when I arrived, and immediately came to offer me his 
 room, his cook to dress my supper (he himself ha\Tng supped 
 before I came in), and all sort of civility. We passed the 
 evening together, and had a great deal of discourse. He said 
 he liked Rome so well, that he should not have left it so soon, 
 but on the account of Lord Morpeth, who was so iU there, 
 that he was not yet recovered, and now carried in a litter. 
 His distemper has been the bloody flux, which returned upon 
 him in the mountains with so much violence, they had been 
 kept three weeks at a miserable village ; he is still so weak I 
 did not see him. My Lord Carlisle told me that next to 
 Rome the best place to stay in Italy is, without contradiction, 
 Venice : that the impertinence of the little sovereigns in 
 other countries is intolerable. 1 have no objection to his 
 advice, but the fear of the air not agreeing with me, though 
 my journey has now so far established my health, that I have 
 lost all my bad symptoms, and am ready to think I could even 
 bear the damps of London. I will therefore venture to try, 
 and if I find Venice too cold or moist (which I am more 
 afraid of), I can remove very easily ; though I resolve against 
 Rome, on an account you may guess. My Lord Carlisle 
 said, he thought me in the right ; that it is very hard to avoid 
 meeting a certain person;^ and there are so many little dirty 
 spies that write any He comes into their heads, that the doing 
 
 ' The brother of Lady Mary's early friends " the young ladies at Castle Howard." 
 ^ The Pretender.— T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 45 
 
 it may be dangerous. I have received a letter from Lady 
 Pomfret, that she is leaving Sienna, and intends for Venice, 
 which is another inducement to me to go there ; but the chief 
 is the hope of living as quiet and as private as I please, which 
 hitherto I have found impossible. The English resident 
 here, Mr. Villette, came to wait on me the very night of my 
 arrival, to my great surprise. I found the intelligence came 
 from the King of Sardinia's officers, who were at Pont Voisin, 
 and had learnt my name from Lord Carlisle's servants. I 
 have been obliged to excuse my going to court, on [sic] having 
 no court-dress, and saying I intended to leave the town in a 
 few days. However, I have not been able to avoid the visits 
 that have been made to me. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 Turin, September 11, N.S., 1739. 
 
 I AM now, dear madam, in a country where I may soon 
 hope for the pleasure of seeing you; but in taking your 
 advice I see I have taken the wrong road to have that happi- 
 ness soon ; and I am out of patience to find that, after passing 
 the Alps, we have the Apennines between us ; besides the 
 new-invented difficulties of passing from this country to Bo- 
 logna, occasioned by their foolish quarantines. I will not 
 entertain you with my road adventures till we meet. But I 
 cannot help mentioning the most agreeable of them, which 
 was seeing at Lyons the most beautiful and the best-behaved 
 young man I ever saw. 1 am sure your ladyship must know 
 I mean my Lord Lempster.^ He did me the honour of 
 coming to visit me several times ; accompanied me to the 
 opera ; and, in short, I am indebted to him for many civilities, 
 besides the pleasure of seeing so amiable a figure. If I had 
 the honour of all my relations much at heart, I should, how- 
 ever, have been mortified at seeing his contrast in the person 
 of my cousin Lord Fielding,'' who is at the same academy. I 
 
 ' Son of Lady Pomfret. — W. 
 
 " Basil, afterwards sixth Earl of Denbigh, bom January 3, 1719. — T. 
 
46 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 met Lord Carlisle at Pont Beauvoisin, who had been confined 
 in the mountains three weelis in a miserable village, on the 
 account of his son's health, who is still so iU that he can travel 
 in no way but in a litter. I inquired after your ladyship, as I 
 cannot help doing so of everybody that I think may have seen 
 you. He told me that he had not had that advantage, but he 
 was informed that you intended leaving Sienna, and would 
 certainly pass the carnival at Venice ; which determines me to 
 go thithei-, where I beg you would direct your next letter, en- 
 closed to Mr. Brown, the English consul there. 
 
 It is impossible to express to you the satisfaction I feel in 
 the hopes of passing our time together, remote from the non- 
 sense of our own country, and present to the only happiness 
 this world can afford, a mutual friendship and esteem ; which 
 I ilatter myself your partiality gives me, and which is paid to 
 you with the utmost justice by, dear madam, 
 
 Your faithful, &c. &c. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Venice, Sept. 25 [1739]. 
 
 I AM at length happily arrived here, I thank God : I wish it 
 had been my original plan, which would have saved me some 
 money and fatigue ; though I have not much reason to regret 
 the last, since I am convinced it has greatly contributed to the 
 restoration of my health. I met nothing disagreeable in my 
 journey but too much company. I find (contrary to the rest 
 of the world) I did not think myself so considerable as I am ; 
 for I verily believe, if one of the pyramids of Egypt had tra- 
 velled, it could not have been more followed ; and if I had 
 received all the visits that have been intended me, I should 
 have stopped at least a year in every town I came through. I 
 liked Milan so well, that if I had not desired all my letters to 
 be directed hither, I think I should have been tempted to stay 
 there. One of the pleasures 1 foimd there was the Borromean 
 library, where all strangers have free access ; and not only so, 
 but liberty, on giving a note for it, to take any printed book 
 home with them. I saw several curious manuscripts there; 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 47 
 
 and, as a proof of my recovery, I went up to the very top of 
 the dome of the great church without any assistance. I am 
 now in a lodging on the Great Canal. Lady Pomfret is not 
 yet arrived, but I expect her very soon ; and if the air does not 
 disagree with me, I intend seeing the carnival here. I hope 
 your health continues, and that I shall hear from you very 
 soon. 
 
 I think I have been a very good housewife to come thus far 
 on the money I carried out with me ; but you may be sure I 
 am very near the end of it, and I desire you would send me a 
 bill of exchange enclosed in your next letter, directed to be 
 left at the consul, Mr. Brown's, at Venice. He is the only 
 person I have seen here : he tells me our old friend Gri- 
 manii is procurator of St. Marc, and will come to see me as 
 soon as he hears of my arrival. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 Venice, Oct. 10, N.S. [1739]. 
 
 I DID not answer dear Lady Pomfret's letter the moment I 
 had received it, from a very ridiculous reason, which was, 
 however, a very serious impediment ; a gnat had saluted one 
 of my eyes so roughly, that it was for two days absolutely 
 sealed down : it is now quite well ; and the first use I make of 
 it is to give thanks for your kind thoughts of me, which I wish 
 I knew how to deserve. 
 
 I like this place extremely, and am of opinion you would do 
 so too : as to cheapness, I think 'tis impossible to find any 
 part of Europe where both the laws and customs are so con- 
 trived purposely to avoid expenses of all sorts ; and here is a 
 universal liberty that is certainly one of the greatest agreniens 
 in life. We have foreign ambassadors from all parts of the 
 world, who have all visited me. I have received visits from many 
 of the noble Venetian ladies ; and upon the whole I am very 
 
 * Afterwards Doge of Venice. Chiefly by his prudence the republic of 
 Venice preserved its neutrality throughout tlie long period of the] wars for the 
 Austrian succession in -which all the surrounding states were involved. It waa 
 this immunity from the horrors of war which subsequently induced Lady Mary to 
 take up her abode within the Venetian states. — T. 
 
48 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 much at my ease here. If I was writing to Lady Sophia, I 
 would tell her of the comedies and operas which are every 
 night, at very low prices ; but I believe even you will agree 
 with me that they are ordered to be as convenient as possible, 
 every mortal going in a mask, and consequently no trouble in 
 dressing, or forms of any kind. I should be very glad to see 
 Rome, which was my first intention (I mean, next to seeing 
 yourself) ; but am deterred from it by reasons that are put 
 into my head by all sorts of people that speak to me of it. 
 There are innumerable little dirty spies about all English ; 
 and I have so often had the ill-fortune to have false witness 
 borne against me, I fear my star on this occasion. I still hope 
 you will come to Venice ; where you wUl see a great town, 
 very different from any other you ever saw, and a manner of 
 living that will be quite new to you. Let me endeavour to 
 tempt you by naming another motive ; you will find a sincere 
 friend, who will try the utmost of her power to render the 
 place agreeable to you ; it can never be thoroughly so to me 
 till I have the happiness of seeing Lady Pomfret; being 
 ever, in the strictest sense of that phrase, 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Venice, October 14 [1739]. 
 
 I FIND myself very well here. I am visited by the most 
 considerable people of the town, and all the foreign ministers, 
 who have most of them made great entertainments for me. I 
 dined yesterday at the Spanish ambassador's, who even sur- 
 passed the French in magnificence. He met me at the hall- 
 door, and the lady at the stair-head, to conduct me through 
 the long apartment ; in short, they could not have shown me 
 more honours, if I had been an ambassadress. She desired 
 me to think myself patrona del casa, and offered me all the 
 services in her power, to wait on me where I pleased, &c. 
 They have the finest palace in Venice. Wliat is very con- 
 venient, I hear it is not at all expected I should make any 
 dinners, it not being the fashion for anybody to do it here but 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 49 
 
 the foreign ministers ; and I find I can live here very genteelly 
 on my allowance. I have already a very agreeable general 
 acquaintance ; though when I came, here was no one I had 
 ever seen in my life, but the Cavaliere Grimani and the Abb6 
 Conti. I must do them [the] justice to say they have taken 
 pains to be obliging to me. The Procurator brought his niece 
 (who is at the head of his family) to wait on me ; and they 
 invited me to reside with them at their palace on the Brent, 
 but I did not think it proper to accept of it. He also intro- 
 duced to me the Signora Pisani Mocenigo, who is the most 
 considerable lady here. The Nuncio is particularly civil to 
 me ; he has been several times to see me, and has offered me 
 the use of his box at the opera. I have many others at my 
 service, and, in short, it is impossible for a stranger to be 
 better received than I am. Here are no English, except a 
 Mr. Bertie and his governor, who arrived two days ago, and 
 who intends but a short stay. 
 
 I hope you are in good health, and that I shall hear of it 
 before you can receive this letter. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 Venice, Nov. 6 [1739.] 
 
 It was with the greatest pleasure I read dear Lady Pomfret's 
 letter half an hoiu- ago : I cannot too soon give thanks for the 
 deHghtful hopes you give me of seeing you here ; and, to say 
 truth, my gratitude is even painful to me till I try to express 
 some part of it. 
 
 Upon my word, I have spoken my real thoughts in relation 
 to Venice ; but I will be more particular in my description, 
 lest you should find the same reason of complaint you have 
 hitherto experienced. It is impossible to give any rule for 
 the agreeableness of conversation ; but here is so great a 
 variety, I think 'tis impossible not to find some to suit every 
 taste. Here are foreign ministers from all parts of the world, 
 who, as they have no court to employ their hours, are over- 
 joyed to enter into commerce with any stranger of distinction. 
 As I am the only lady here at present, I can assure you I am 
 
 VOL. II. E 
 
50 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 eourted, as if I was the only one in the world. As to all the 
 conveniences of life, they are to be had at very easy rates; 
 and for those that love public places, here are two playhouses 
 and two operas constantly performed every night, at exceeding 
 low prices. But you will have no reason to examine that 
 article, no more than myself; all the ambassadors having 
 boxes appointed them ; and I have every one of their keys at 
 my service, not only for my own person, but whoever I please 
 to carry or send. I do not make much use of this privilege, 
 to their great astonishment. It is the fashion for the greatest 
 ladies to walk the streets, which are admirably paved ; and a 
 mask, price sixpence, with a little cloak, and the head of a 
 domino, the genteel dress to carry you everywhere.* The 
 greatest equipage is a gondola, that holds eight persons, and is 
 the price of an English chair. And it is so much the esta- 
 blished fashion for everybody to live their own way, that 
 nothing is more ridiculous than censuring the actions of 
 another. This would be terrible in London, where we have 
 little other diversion ; but for me, who never found any plea- 
 sure in mahce, I bless my destiny that has conducted me to a 
 part where people are better employed than in talking of the 
 affairs of their acquaintance. It is at present excessive cold 
 (which is the only thing I have to find fault with) ; but in re- 
 compense we have a clear bright sun, and fogs and factions 
 things imheard of in this cKmate. In short, if you come, and 
 like the way of living as well as I do, there can be nothing to 
 be added to the happiness of, dearest madam. 
 
 Your faithful, &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 Venice pTov. or Dec, 1739.] 
 
 You have put me to a very difficult choice, yet, when I 
 
 ' Mr. Dallaway says : " The English travellers at Venice who, she presumed, 
 might have heen induced to visit her from curiosity, she received in a mask and 
 domino, as her dress of ceremony." Much speculation has been indulged in by the 
 critics on this statement, and Lord Whamcliife remarks, that the authority upon 
 which Mr. Dallaway relied, cannot now be traced. This passage, however, show- 
 ing that the mask and domino were the common fashion " to carry you every.- 
 where," deprives the story of its mystery — if the passage in the text were not, 
 indeed, the sole foundation of Dallaway's storj-. — T. 
 
MK. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 51 
 
 consider we are both in Italy, and yet do not see one another, 
 I am astonished at the capricionsness of my fortune. My 
 affairs are so uncertain, I can answer for nothing that is 
 future. I have taken some pains to put the incHnation for 
 travelling into Mr. Wortley's head, and was so much afraid he 
 would change his mind, that I hastened before him in order 
 (at least) to secure my journey. He proposed following me 
 in six weeks, his business requiring his presence at New- 
 castle.^ Since that, the change of scene that has happened in 
 England^ has made his friends persuade him to attend parlia- 
 ment this session : so that what his inclinations, which must 
 govern mine, will be next spring, I cannot absolutely foresee. 
 For my own part, I like my own situation so well that it will 
 be a displeasure to me to change it. To postpone such a con- 
 versation as yours a whole twelvemonth is a terrible appear- 
 ance ; on the other hand, I would not follow the example of 
 the first of our sex, and sacrifice for a present pleasure a more 
 lasting happiness. In short, I can determine nothing on this 
 subject. When you are at Florence, we may debate it over 
 again. — I had letters last post from England that informed 
 me we lodged in a house together. I think it is the first lie I 
 ever heard invented that I wished a solemn truth. 
 
 The Prince of Saxony is expected here in a few days, and 
 has taken a palace exactly over against my house.^ As I had 
 the honour to be particularly well acquainted (if one may use 
 that phrase) with his mother when I was at Vienna, I believe 
 I cannot be dispensed with from appearing at the conver- 
 sations which I hear he intends to hold : which is some morti- 
 fication to me, who am wrapt up among my books with anti- 
 quarians and virtuosi. I shall be very impatient for the return 
 to this letter ; hoping to hear something more determined of 
 yom* resolutions ; which will in a great measure form those of, 
 dear madam. 
 
 Your ladyship's most faithful, &c. 
 
 ' This is corroborated by her husband's letter of 16th Aug., 1739, in which he 
 speaks of making his journey into the north '* in a fortnight or three weeks." — T. 
 
 2 Alluding probably to the declaration of war with Spain. — T. 
 
 ' The date must have been before Dec. 25, the date of another letter (post, p. 53), 
 from which the Prince of Saxony appears to have been arrived some time. — T, 
 
 e2 
 
52 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO ME. WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Venice, Dec. 11 [1739]. 
 
 It was with great pleasure I received your letter half an 
 hour ago, having not heard anything so long. I am as agree- 
 ably here as any stranger in my circumstances can possibly 
 be ; and, indeed, a repetition of all the civilities I have received 
 would sound more like vanity than truth. I am sensible I 
 owe a great part of them to Grimani, who is in the first 
 esteem and authority in this republic ; and, as he takes pains 
 to appear my friend, his relations and allies, of both sexes 
 (which are the most considerable people here), endeavour to 
 oblige me in all sort of ways. The carnival is expected to be 
 more brilliant than common, from the great concourse of 
 noble strangers. The Princess of Holstein and the Prince of 
 Wolfenbuttel (nephew to the Empress) are already arrived, 
 and the Electoral Prince of Saxony expected next week. If 
 my age and humour permitted me much pleasure in public 
 amusements, here are a great variety of them. I take as Uttle 
 share of them as I can. 
 
 " Frui paratis et valido mihi 
 Latbe dones, et precor Integra 
 Cum mente, nee turpem senectam 
 Degere, neo cithara carentem." 
 
 [HoR. Od., lib. i. ode 31.] 
 
 You see I have got a Horace, which is borrowed of the 
 consul, who is a good scholar ; but I am very impatient for 
 my ovni books. 
 
 Here is enclosed Mr. Child's note for my dressing plate, 
 which I forgot to leave with you. 
 
 You do not seem desirous to hear news, which makes me not 
 trouble you with any. 
 
 I could wish, when you send my things, you would be so 
 good to send me the covers of the cushions that were used at 
 Constantinople; the additional weight to the baggage will 
 be very small. I do not think they can be of any service to 
 you, and they would be useful to me, being in fashion here. 
 They were put into the box that was left open where the fur- 
 niture of my di-essing-room was put. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 53 
 
 TO MR. WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 [Venice] Dec. 25, O.S. [1739]. 
 
 I RECEIVED yours yesterday dated Dec. 7. I find my health 
 very well here, notwithstanding the cold, which is very sharp, 
 but the sun shines as clear as at midsummer. I am treated 
 here with more distinction than I could possibly expect. I 
 vvent to see the ceremony of high mass celebrated by the 
 Doge, on Christmas-eve. He appointed a gaUery for me and 
 the Prince of Wolfenbuttel, where no other person was ad- 
 mitted but those of our company. A greater compliment 
 could not have been paid me if I had been a sovereign prin- 
 cess. The Doge's niece (he having no lady) met me at the 
 palace gate, and led me through the palace to the church of 
 St. Mark, where the ceremony was performed in the pomp you 
 know, and we were not obliged to any act of adoration. The 
 Electoral Prince of Saxony is here in public, and makes a 
 prodigious expense. His governor is Count Wackerbart, son 
 to that Madame Wackerbart with whom I was so intimate at 
 Vienna ; on which account he shows me particular civilities, 
 and obliges his pupil to do the same. I was last night at an 
 entertainment made for him by the Signora Pisani Mocenigo, 
 which was one of the finest I ever saw, and he desired me to 
 sit next to him in a great chair : in short, I have all the reason 
 that can be to be satisfied with my treatment in this town ; 
 and I am glad I met Lord Carlisle, who directed me hither. 
 
 I have received Sir F. Ch. [Child's] bill dated Oct. 11, 
 which I certified to him some time ago. I have not yet had 
 any for the Christmas quarter. 
 
 I have so httle correspondence at London, I should be 
 pleased to hear from you whatever happens among my ac- 
 quaintance. I am sorry for Mr. Pelham's misfortune ;' though 
 'tis long since that I have looked upon the hopes of continu- 
 ing a family as one of the vainest of mortal prospects. 
 
 " Tho* Solomon, with a thousand wives, 
 To get a wise successor strives. 
 But one, and he a fool, survives." 
 
 The Procurator of St. Mark has desked his compliments 
 to you whenever I write. 
 
 ' The death of his two sons on two following days, Nov. 27, 28, 1739.— D. 
 
54 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 [Venice] Jan. 25 [1740]. 
 
 I WROTE to you last post ; but as I do not know whether I 
 was particular enough in answering all the questions you asked 
 me, I add the following account, which I do not wonder will 
 surprise you, since both the Procurator Grimani and the 
 Abb4 Conti tell me often that these last twenty years have so 
 far changed the customs of Venice, that they hardly know it 
 for the same country. Here are several foreign ladies of 
 quality, I mean Germans, and from other parts of Italy ; here 
 not being one Frenchwoman. They are all well received by 
 the gentil donnas, who make a vanity in introducing them to 
 the assemblies and other public diversions, though all those 
 ladies, as well as myself, go frequently to the Princess of 
 Oampo Florida's (the Spanish ambassadress) assembly. She 
 is in a very particular manner obliging to me, and is, I really 
 think, one of the best sort of women I ever knew. The Nea- 
 politan (though he has been here some months) makes his 
 public entry to-day, which I am to go [to] see about an hour 
 hence. He gives a great entertainment at night, where all 
 the noble Venetians of both sexes will be in masque. I am 
 engaged to go with Signora Justiniani Gradinego, who is one 
 of the first ladies here. The Prince of Saxony has invited 
 me to come into his box at the opera ; but I have not yet ac- 
 cepted of it, he having always the four ladies with him that 
 are wives to the four senators deputed to do the honours of 
 Venice ; and I am afraid they should think I interfere with 
 them in the honour of his conversation, which they are very 
 fond of, and have behaved very coldly to some other noble 
 Venetian ladies that have taken the hberty of his box. I will 
 be directed in this (as I am in all pubhc matters) by the Pro- 
 curator Grimani. My letter is shortened by the arrival of the 
 signora. 
 
 I have received my Christmas quarter, for which I thank 
 you. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 55 
 
 TO THE COXJNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 [Venice, about Feb. 17, 1740.] 
 
 1 MUST begin my letter, dear madam, with asking pardon 
 for the peevishness of my last. I confess I was piqued at 
 yours, and you should not wonder I am a Uttle tender on that 
 point. To suspect me of want of desire to see you, is ac- 
 cusing at once both my taste and my sincerity ; and you will 
 allow that all the world are sensible upon these subjects. But 
 you have now given me an occasion to thank you, in sending 
 me the most agreeable yovmg man I have seen in my travels. 
 I wish it was in my power to be of use to him ; but what 
 little services I am able to do him, I shall not fail of perform- 
 ing with great pleasure. I have aheady received a very con- 
 siderable one from him in a conversation where you was the 
 subject, and I had the satisfaction of hearing him talk of you 
 in a manner that agreed with my own way of thinking. I 
 wish I could tell you that I set out for Florence next week ; 
 but the winter is yet so severe, and by all report, even that of 
 our friends, the roads so bad, it is impossible to think of it. 
 We are now in the midst of carnival amusements, which are 
 more than usual, for the entertainment of the Electoral Prince 
 of Saxony, and I am obliged to live in a hurry very incon- 
 sistent with philosophy, and extreme' different from the hfe I 
 projected to lead. But 'tis long since I have been of Prior's 
 opinion, who, I think, somewhere compares us to cards, who 
 are but played with, do not play. At least such has been my 
 destiny from my youth upwards ; and neither Dr. Clarke or 
 Lady Sundon^ could ever convince me that I was a free 
 agent ; for I have always been disposed of more by little ac- 
 cidents, than either my own inchnations or interest. I beheve 
 that affairs of the greatest importance are carried the same 
 way. I seriously assure you (as I have done before) I wish 
 
 ' " Extreme" for the adrerb was in common use in colloquial writing of the 
 time.— T. 
 
 2 This alludes to Queen Caroline and her confidante, who dabbled in philosophy 
 and metaphysics, and were at one time very fond of Dr. Clarke, with whom they 
 affected to study. Pope's line may be remembered : 
 
 " Nor in a hermitage set Dr. Clarke." — W. 
 
56 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 nothing more than your conversation ; and am downright en- 
 raged that I can appoint no time for that happiness ; which, 
 however, I hope will not be long delayed, and is impatiently 
 waited for by, dear madam, 
 
 Your ladyship's, &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 [Venice, about Feb., 1740.] 
 
 I CANNOT deny your ladyship's letter gave me a great deal 
 of pleasure ; but you have seasoned it with a great deal of 
 pain, in the conclusion (after the many agreeable things you 
 have said to me) that you are not entirely satisfied with me : 
 you will not throw our separation on ill fortune ; and I will 
 not renew the conversation of the fallen angels in Milton, who 
 in contesting on predestination and free will, we are told, 
 
 " They of the vain dispute could know no end." 
 
 Yet I know that neither my pleasures, my passions, nor my 
 interests, have ever disposed of me, so much as little accidents, 
 which, whether from chance or destiny, have always deter- 
 mined my choice. Here is weather, for example, which, to 
 the shame of all almanacks, keeps on the depth of winter in 
 the beginning of spring ; and makes it as much impossible for 
 me to pass the mountains of Bologna, as it would be to wait 
 on you in another planet, if you had taken up your residence 
 in Venus or Mercury. However, I am fully determined to 
 give myself that happiness ; but when is out of my power to 
 decide. You may imagine, apart from the gratitude I owe 
 you and the inclination I feel for you, that I am impatient to 
 hear good sense pronoimced in my native tongue ; having 
 only heard my language out of the mouths of boys and go- 
 vernors^ for these five months. Here are inundations of them 
 broke in upon us this carnival, and my apartment must be 
 their refuge ; the greater part of them having kept an in- 
 
 ^ The term Governor, as applied to tutors who accompanied young nobles and 
 gentlemen on their travels, is now almost forgotten. Horace Waipole was one of 
 these " boys" at this time travelling in Italy with Gray the poet. Lady Mary met 
 him at Florence. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 57 
 
 violable fidelity to the languages their niirses taught them ; 
 their whole business abroad (as far as I can perceive) being 
 to buy new clothes, in which they shine in some obscui'e coffee- 
 house, where they are sure of meeting only one another ; and 
 after the important conquest of some waiting gentlewoman of 
 an opera queen, whom perhaps they remember as long as they 
 live, return to England excellent judges of men and manners. 
 I find the spirit of patriotism so strong in me every time I see 
 them, that I look on them as the greatest blockheads in na- 
 ture; and, to say truth, the compoimd of booby and petit 
 maitre makes up a very odd sort of animal. I hope we shall 
 live to talk all these things over, and ten thousand more, which 
 I reserve till the hour of meeting ; which that it may soon 
 arrive is the zealous wish of 
 
 Your ever faithful, &c. &c. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 [Venice] March 29 [1740]. 
 
 I SEND you the enclosed, which came to me the last post, to 
 show you that my biU of credit is of no further use to me, and 
 if you think it proper I should have one, Mr. Child should 
 send me one on his correspondent here, though I do not foresee 
 any occasion I shall have for it. I think Mr. Waters seems 
 dissatisfied with my letters being directed to him. Those he 
 mentions were from my son, pretty much in the usual style ; 
 he desires to leave the town where he now is, because he says 
 there is no temptation to riot, and he would show how able 
 he is to resist it : I answer him this post, and shall endeavour 
 mildly to show him the necessity of being easy in his present 
 situation. 
 
 Lord Granby' leaves this place to-morrow, to set out for 
 Constantinople ; the Prince of Saxony stays till the second of 
 May ; in the mean time there arc entertainments given him 
 almost every day of one sort or other, and a regatta preparing, 
 which is expected by all strangers with great impatience. He 
 
 • John Marquia of Granby, afterwards commander-in-chief of the British 
 army in Germany, born January 2, 1721. — T, 
 
58 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 went to see the arsenal three days ago, waited on by a nume- 
 rous nobility of both sexes ; the Bucentaur was adorned and 
 launched, a magnificent collation given, and we sailed a little 
 way in it: I was in company with the Signora Justiniani 
 Gradinego, and Signora Marina Crizzo. As you have been 
 at Venice, there is no occasion of describing those things to 
 you. There were two cannons founded in his presence, and a 
 galley built and launched in an hour's time. Last night there 
 was a concert of voices and instruments at the Hospital of the 
 Incurabili, where there were two girls that, iii the opinion of 
 all people, excel either Faustina or Cuzzoni,^ but you know 
 they are never permitted to sing on any theatre. 
 
 Lord Fitzwilliam is expected in this town to-night, on his 
 return to England, as I am told. The prince's behaviom* is 
 very obliging to all, and in no part of it liable to censure, 
 though I think there is nothing to be said in praise of his 
 genius ; I suppose you know he has been lame from his birth, 
 and is carried about in a chair, though a beautiful person from 
 the waist upwards : it is said his family design him for the 
 Church, he having four brothers who are fine children. The 
 weather is now very fine ; we have had none of the canals 
 frozen, in the coldest part of the winter, but the mountains 
 are still covered with snow. 
 
 Your last letters have said nothing of my baggage. If there 
 is danger of its being taken by the privateers, I had rather it 
 stayed in England, and I wotdd go into the southern part of 
 
 ' Two celebrated Italian singers of the opera in London. Cuzzoni afterwards 
 married Signer Sandoni, and was tried and condemned to death for poisoning her 
 husband, but the punishment was remitted. She was famed for her extravagance. 
 When her popularity declined and her voice failed, she was seen, it is said, selling 
 greens in the streets of Bologna. The rivalries of these two singers long divided 
 the town into parties, and gave rise to numberless squibs and epigrams. Lady 
 Mary's acquaintance. Miss Howe, afterwards Countess of Pembroke, was accused 
 of " catcalling" Faustina. A poem called " Faustina, or the Roman Songstress ; 
 or, the Luxury and Effeminacy of the Age," published in 1726, when these feuds 
 were at their height, bears the following motto : 
 " Cuzzoni can no longer charm, 
 
 Faustina now does all alarm. 
 
 And we must buy her pipe so clear 
 
 With hundreds twenty-five a year ; 
 
 Either weVe money over plenty, 
 
 Or else our skulls are wondrous empty." — T. 
 
ME. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 59 
 
 France, where it might be conveyed to me -without hazard, 
 than risk the loss of it. — ^If there is a probability of a rupture 
 with France, I can go to Avignon. 
 
 ■ TO MR. WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 [Venice] AprU 19, N.S. [1740]. 
 
 I RECEIVED yours of January 1 but yesterday ; for which 
 reason I think it useless to answer it at present, but if I find 
 any occasion, shall not fail to follow your orders. Lord 
 Granby is set out on his journey for Constantinople. Lord 
 FitzwiUiam arrived here three days ago ; he came to see me 
 the next day, as all the English do, who are much surprised 
 at the civilities and familiarity with which I am with \_sic] 
 the noble ladies. Everybody tells me 'tis what never was 
 done but to myself; and I own I have a little vanity in it, 
 because the French ambassador told me when I first came, 
 that though the Procurator Grimani might persuade them to 
 visit me, he defied me to enter into any sort of intimacy with 
 them : instead of which they call me out almost every day on 
 some diversion or other, and are desirous to have me in all 
 their parties of pleasure. I am invited to-morrow to the 
 Foscarini to dinner, which is to be followed by a concert and 
 a ball, where I shall be the only stranger, though here are at 
 present a great number come to see the regatta, which is fixed 
 for the 29th of this month, N.S. I shall see it at the Procu- 
 rator Grimani's, where there will be a great entertainment that 
 day. My own house is very well situated to see it, being on 
 the Grand Canal ; but I would not refuse him and his niece, 
 since they seem desirous of my company, and I shall oblige 
 some other ladies with my windows. They are hired at a 
 great rate to see the show. I suppose you know the nature of 
 it, but if it wUl be any amusement I wiU send you a particular 
 description. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 [Venice, about April, 1740.] 
 
 Upon my word, dear madam, I seriously intend myself the 
 
60 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 happiness of being with you this siimmer; but it cannot be 
 till then ; while the Prince of Saxony stays here I am engaged 
 not to move: not upon his account, as you may very well 
 imagine, but here are many entertainments given, and to be 
 given him by the public, which it would be disobliging to my 
 friends here to run away from ; and I have received so many 
 civilities from the first people here, I cannot refuse them the 
 complaisance of passing the feast of the Ascension in their com- 
 pany, though 'tis a real violence to my inclination to be so long 
 deprived of yours, of which I know the value, and may say, 
 that I am just to you from judgment as well as pleased with 
 you from taste. I envy nothing more to Lady Walpole' than 
 your conversation, though I am glad you have met with hers. 
 Have you not reasoned much on the surprising conclusion of 
 Lord Scarborough? I confess I look upon his engagement 
 with the duchess,^ not as the cause, but sign, that he was mad. 
 I could wish for some authentic account of her behaviour on 
 
 ' Lady Walpole was then at Florence. See note on letter, po**, p. 82. — T. 
 2 Isabella, the widow of William Duke of Manchester, was eldest daughter of 
 John Duke of Montagu, by his wife, Lady Mary Churchill, daughter of John the 
 great Duke of Marlborough, a woman celebrated for her beauty, and the admira- 
 tion which it excited. She was about to take as her second husband Eichard Earl 
 of Scarborough (the Lord Scarborough so praised by Chesterfield and Pope), when, 
 without any apparent reason to be tired of life, he destroyed himself the day before 
 that fixed for their marriage. Eeport said, that by hastily drpng up an issue, or 
 using hazardous means to check an eruption, he had repelled a humour, which 
 flew to his brain, and produced a sudden fit of insanity. Lady Mary Wortley's 
 remarks on this, and everything else concerning the Duchess of Manchester, are so 
 far from charitable, that the cause of her bitterness should be explained. The 
 duchess unfortunately was at variance, indeed at open war, with her parents, 
 having married verj' young, and in the first enjoyment of delightful freedom, made 
 too much haste to fling oiF the yoke of her mother, who, perhaps, on her side, 
 strove to govern rather too long. But this Lady Mary, Avho was her mother tlie 
 Duchess of Montagu's fast friend, would not admit, and threw the whole blame 
 upon the daughter, for whom, however, the self-same circumstance won zealous 
 protection and partiality from her august grandmother, Sarah of Marlborough. 
 "You, my sweet duchess" (said the grandmother, in an overflow of fondness), "yow 
 were always the very best of God's creatures, but you have a mother J J" The 
 granddaughter, who was gifted with a great deal of humour, and knew perfectly 
 well what made her a favourite, could not resist answering, " Ay, and she has a 
 mother !" 
 
 None of the Duchess of Manchester's lovers pursued her more ardently than at 
 one time did Mr. Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland. So, whenever Duchess 
 Sarah heard of any imprudent love-match, " Ah ! well !" she would cry, " I don't 
 care who runs away with whom so long as the Fox does not carry off my Goose." 
 — W. The duchess's marriage to Mr. Hussey will be found subsequentlv alluded 
 to.— T. 
 
MR. WOUTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 61 
 
 this occasion. I do not doubt she shines in it, as she has done 
 in every other part of her Hfe. I am almost inclined to super- 
 stition on this accident ; and think it a judgment for the death 
 of a poor silly soul,' that you know he caused some years ago. 
 I had a visit yesterday from a Greek called Cantacuzena, 
 who had the honour to see your ladyship, as he says, often at 
 Florence, and gave me the pleasure of speaking of you in the 
 manner I think. Prince Beauveau and Lord Shrewsbury 
 intend to leave us in a few days for the Conclave. We expect 
 after it a fresh cargo of English ; but, God be praised, I hear 
 of no ladies among them : Mrs. Lethuilier was the last that 
 gave comedies in this town, and she had made her exit before 
 1 came ; which I look upon as a great blessing. I have 
 nothing to complain of here but too much diversion, as it is 
 called ; and which literally diverts me from amusements much 
 more agreeable. I can hardly believe it is me dressed up at 
 balls, and stalking about at assembhes ; and should not be so 
 much surprised at suffering any of Ovid's transformations ; 
 having more disposition, as I thought, to harden into stone or 
 timber, than to be enlivened into these timiultuary entertain- 
 ments, where I am amazed to find myself seated by a sove- 
 reign prince, after travelling a thousand miles to establish 
 myself in the bosom of a repubHc, with a design to lose all 
 memory of kings and courts. Won't you admire the force of 
 destiny ? I remember my contracting an intimacy with a 
 girl^ in a village, as the most distant thing on earth from 
 power and politics. Fortune tosses her up (in a double sense), 
 and 1 am embroiled in a thousand affairs that I had resolved 
 to avoid as long as I Hved. Say what you please, madam, we 
 
 * This was Lady Mary*s own sister-in-law, the widow Lady Kingston, who with 
 a weak understanding had strong affections, and devoted them all to Lord Scar- 
 borough. She thought him so firmly engaged to her, that she even taught her 
 children to call him papa. But falling ill, and sending for him, she received such 
 a shock from a cold slighting answer he gave to something she said about their 
 future marriage, that she turned on her pillow, and spoke to him no more. As 
 she died a day or two afterwards. Lady Mary might justly accuse him of having 
 struck the death-blow. — W. 
 
 ^ Meaning Miss Skerritt, with whom Lady Mary made an intimate acquaint- 
 ance at Twickenham, some time before her conquest of Sir Robert Walpole '* tossed 
 her up" into the region of power and politics. — W. 
 
62 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 are pushed about by a superior hand, and there is some pre- 
 destination, as well as a great deal of free ■will, in my being 
 
 Faithfully yours, &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFEET. 
 
 [Venice, about April, 1740.] 
 
 I CANNOT help being offended to find that you think it 
 necessary to make an excuse for the desire that you so obli- 
 gingly expressed of seeing me. Do not think me so tasteless 
 or so ungratefid not to be sensible of all the goodness you have 
 shown me. I prefer one hour of your conversation to all the 
 raree-shows that have ever been exhibited. But little circum- 
 stances com^monly overrule both our interests and our inclina- 
 tions. Though I believe, if the weather and roads permitted, 
 I should even now break through them all, to gratify myself 
 with waiting on you : however, I hope that happiness in a few 
 weeks ; and in the mean time must go through a coiirse of 
 conversations, concerts, balls, &c. I envy you a more reason- 
 able way of passing your time. It is but a very small quantity 
 that is allowed us by nature, and yet how much of that little 
 is squandered. I am determined to be a better housewife for 
 the future ; and not to be cheated out of so many irretrievable 
 hours, that might be laid out to better advantage. I could 
 pity the Duchess of Manchester, though I believe 'tis a sensa- 
 tion she is incapable of feeling for anybody, and I do not 
 doubt it is her- pride that is chiefly shocked on this occasion; 
 but as that is a very tender part, and she having always pos- 
 sessed a double portion of it, I am persuaded she is very 
 miserable. I am surprised at the different way of acting I 
 find in Italy, where, though the sun gives more warmth to 
 the passions, they are all managed with a sort of discretion 
 that there is never any public iclat, though there are ten thou- 
 sand public engagements : which is so different from what I 
 had always heard and read, that I am convinced either the 
 manners of the country are wonderfully changed, or travellers 
 have always related what they have imagined, and not what 
 they saw ; as I found at Constantinople, where, instead of the 
 
ME. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 63 
 
 imprisonment in which I fancied all the ladies languished, I 
 saw them running about in veils from morning to night. 
 
 TiU I can see you, dear madam, let me hear from you as 
 often as possible, and do not think your favours thrown away 
 upon a stupid heart ; it is sincerely devoted to your service, 
 with as much attachment as ever. I can part with all other 
 pretensions, but I must be angry if you are in this point 
 unjust to 
 
 Your faithful servant, &c. &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMERET. 
 
 Venice, May 17 [1740]. 
 
 I HAD the happiness of a letter from your ladyship a few 
 days since, and yesterday the pleasure of talking of you with 
 Sir Henry Englefield.^ He tells me you are still in ice and 
 snow at Florence, and we are very little better at Venice, 
 where we remain in the state of warming beds and sitting by 
 firesides. I begin to be of opinion that the sun is grown old ; 
 it is certain he does not ogle with so much spirit as he used to 
 do, or our planet has made some slip unperceived by the ma- 
 thematicians. For my own part, who am more passionately 
 fond of Phoebus than ever Clymene was, I have some thoughts 
 of removing into Africa, that I may feel him once more be- 
 fore I die ; which I shall do as surely as your olive-trees, if I 
 have much longer to sigh for his absence. In the mean time 
 I am tied here as long as the Prince of Saxony, which is an 
 uncertain term, but I think will not be long after the Ascen- 
 sion;^ and then I intend myself the pleasure of waiting on 
 you, where I wiU listen to all your reproaches, hoping you 
 will do the same to my excuses, and that the balance will 
 come out in my favour : though I could wish you rather here ; 
 having a strong notion Venice is more agreeable than Flo- 
 rence, as freedom is more eligible than slavery; and I have 
 an insuperable aversion to courts, or the shadows of them, be 
 they in what shapes they will. I send you no description of 
 
 ' Sir Henry Englefield, Bart., of Wotton-Basset. The baronetcy expired in 
 1822.— T. 
 
 ^ The Gregorian Calendar having been adopted in this part of Itaiy, Holy Thurs- 
 day, in 1740, fell, I presume, on the 26th of May, N.S.— T. 
 
64 COREESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 the regatta, not doubting you have been wearied with the 
 printed one. It was really a magnificent show, as ever was 
 exhibited since the galley of Cleopatra. Instead of her 
 majesty we had some hundreds of Cleopatras in the windows 
 and balconies. The operas and masks begin next Wednesday, 
 and we persevere in gallantries and raree-shows, in the midst 
 of wars and rumours of wars that surround us. I may, how- 
 ever, assure you with an English plainness, these things can 
 at most but attract my eyes, while (as the song says) you 
 engage my heart; which I hope to convince you of when 
 I am so happy as to tell you by word of mouth that I am 
 
 Sincerely and faithfully yours, &c. 
 
 TO MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 [Venice] June 1 [1740]. 
 
 I WROTE you a long letter yesterday, which I sent by a 
 private hand, who will see it safely dehvered."^ It is impos- 
 sible to be better treated, I may even say more courted, than I 
 am here. I am very glad of your good fortune at London. 
 You may remember I have always told you that it is in your 
 power to make the first figure in the House of Commons.^ As 
 to the bill, I perfectly remember the paying of it ; which you 
 may easily believe when you inquire, that all auction bills are 
 paid at furthest within eight days after the sale : the date of 
 this is March 1, and I did not leave London till July 25 ; and 
 in that time have been at many other auctions, particularly 
 Lord Halifax's, which was a short time before my journey- 
 This is not the first of Cock's' mistakes ; he is famous for 
 making them, which are (he says) the fault of his servants. 
 You seem to mention the regatta in a manner as if you would 
 be pleased with a description of it. It is a race of boats : 
 they are accompanied by vessels which they call Piotes, and 
 Bichones, that are built at the expense of the nobles and 
 
 ^ This letter does not appear. — T. 
 
 ^ This probablj- refers generally to the divisions known to exist among the 
 ministers, and the signs of the approaching downfal of Sir Robert Walpole. It 
 may, hovp-ever, allude to some speech of Mr. Wortley Montagu's, of which no re- 
 cord has been preserv^ed. — T. 
 
 ' A noted auctioneer in the great Piazza, Covent Garden. — T. 
 
MB. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. B5 
 
 strangers that have a mind to display their magnificence ; they 
 are a sort of machines adorned with all that sculpture and 
 gilding can do to make a shining appearance. Several of 
 them cost one thousand pounds sterling, and I believe none 
 less than five hundred ; they are rowed by gondoliers dressed 
 in rich habits, suitable to what they represent. There was 
 enough of them to look like a little fleet, and I own I never 
 saw a finer sight. It would be too long to describe every one 
 in particular ; I shall only name the principal : — the Signora 
 Pisani Moeenigo's represented the Chariot of the Night, 
 drawn by four sea-horses, and showing the rising of the moon, 
 accompanied with stars, the statues on each side representing 
 the hours to the number of twenty-four, rowed by gondoliers 
 in rich liveries, which were changed three times, all of equal 
 richness, and the decorations changed also to the dawn of 
 Aurora and the mid-day sun, the statues being new dressed 
 every time, the first in green, the second time red, and the 
 last blue, all equally laced with silver, there being three races. 
 Signer Soranzo represented the Kingdom of Poland, with all 
 the provinces and rivers in that dominion, with a concert of 
 the best instnunental music in rich Polish habits ; the painting 
 and gilding were exquisite in their kinds. Signer Oontarini's 
 piote showed the Liberal Arts ; Apollo was seated on the stern 
 upon Mount Parnassus, Pegasus behind, and the Muses seated 
 round him : opposite was a figure representing Painting, with 
 Fame blowing her trumpet ; and on each side Sculpture and 
 Music in their proper dresses. The Procurator Foscarini's 
 was the Chariot of Flora guided by Cupids, and adorned with 
 all sorts of flowers, rose-trees, &c. Signer Juho Contarinil^s] 
 represented the Triumphs of Valour ; Victory was on the 
 stem, and all the ornaments warlike trophies of every kindt 
 Signer Correri's was the Adriatic Sea receiving into her arms 
 the Hope of Saxony. Signer Alvisio Moeenigo's was the 
 Garden of Hesperides ; the whole fable was represented by 
 different statues. Signer Querini had the Chariot of Venus 
 drawn by doves, so well done, they seemed ready to fly upon 
 the water ; the Loves and Graces attended her. Signor Paul 
 
 VOL. II. F 
 
66 COEEESPONDENGE WITH 
 
 Doria had the Chariot of Diana, who appeared hunting in a 
 large ■wood : the trees, hounds, stag, and nymphs, all done 
 naturally : the gondohers dressed like peasants attending the 
 chase : and Endymion, lying under a large tree, gazing on the 
 goddess. Signor Angelo Labbia represented Poland crowning 
 of Saxony, waited on by the Virtues and subject Provinces. 
 Signor Angelo Molino was Neptune waited on by the Rivers. 
 Signor Vicenzo Morosini's piote showed the Triumphs of 
 Peace : Discord being chained at her feet, and she surrounded 
 with the Pleasures, &c. 
 
 I believe you are already weary of this description, which 
 can give you but a very imperfect idea of the show ; but I 
 must say one word of the bichonis, which are less vessels, 
 quite open, some representing gardens, others apartments, all 
 the oars being gilt either with gold or silver, and the gondoliers' 
 liveries either velvet or rich silk, with a profusion of lace, 
 fringe, and embroidery. I saw this show at the Procurator 
 Grimani's house, which was near the place where the prizes 
 were delivered : there was a great assembly invited on the 
 same occasion, which were all nobly entertained.' 
 
 I can get no better ink here, though I have tried several 
 times, and it is a great vexation to me to want it. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFEET. 
 
 June 4 [1740]. 
 
 I HAVE this moment received the most agreeable and most 
 obliging letter I ever read in my life ; I mean your ladyship's 
 of the 28th May. I ought to take post to-morrow morning to 
 thank you in person, but the possibilities are wanting. Here 
 is a new, unforeseen, impertinent impediment rose up ; in 
 vulgar English called a big belly. I hope you won't think it 
 my own ; but my dear chambermaid, the only EngUsh female 
 belonging to me, was pleased to honour me last night with the 
 confidence that she expects to lie in every day; which my 
 
 > A description of the same scene, derived from Lady Mary's account, will be 
 found in the Correspondence of the Countess of Hertford and the Countess of Pom- 
 fret, 1806, second edition, ii. 19. — T„ 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGtT AND OTHERS. 67 
 
 negligence and her loose gown has hindered me from perceiv- 
 ing till now ; though I have been told to-day by ten visitors 
 that all the town knew it except myself. Here am I locked 
 up this month at Venice for her sweet sake, and consequently 
 going to hate it heartily ; but it is not possible for me to travel 
 alone, or trust an Italian with the care of my jewels, &c. The 
 Creature is married to an English servant of mine, so there is 
 no indecency in keeping her, but a great deal of inconveniency. 
 I beg your pardon,, dear madam, for this ridiculous detail of 
 my domestics, but it is at present the only thing that stops my 
 journey ; the Prince of Saxony's being fixed for the tenth of 
 this month. You cannot know me so Little as to suppose the 
 pleasure of making my court determined me to stay as long as 
 he did. I freely confess a very great esteem, and even friend- 
 ship for his governor, whose civilities to me have been so great. 
 I must have been very stupid, as well as ungrateful, if I could 
 have thought they deserved no return ; and he exacted this 
 promise from me at a time when neither he nor I thought he 
 could stay above half th« time he has done. This friendship 
 of ours is attended with such peculiar circumstances as make 
 it as free from all possibility of a reproach, as a fancy your 
 ladyship may take, for aught I know, to the Venus de Medici ,; 
 he being in some sense as immovable as she, and equally in-- 
 capable, by the duties of his cursed place, to leave the post he 
 h in, even for one moment. I go there to visit him behind 
 the prince's chair, which is his grate ;^ where we converse in 
 English (which he speaks perfectly well), and he has the plea- 
 sure of talking to me with a freedom that he does not use to 
 any other. You may easily imagine the consolation this is to 
 him ; and you have so good a heart, that I am sure you must 
 be sensible of the pleasure I find in giving way to a man of so 
 fextraordinarj' a character both for virtue and understanding. 
 This is the true history of my stay here, which shall be as 
 short as these remoras will permit ; being ever, &c. 
 
 • Lady Mary must have meant that the prince's chair was to his governor what 
 the grate of a nunnery is to the nuns-^an impassable barrier. — W. 
 
 p2 
 
68 . CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 [Venice, June, 1740.] 
 
 I SENB you this letter by so agreeable a companioB,^ that I 
 think it a very considerable present. He will tell you that he 
 has pressed me very much to set out for Florence immediately, 
 and I have the greatest inclination in the world to do it ; but, 
 as I have already said, I am but too well convinced that all 
 things are relative, and mankind was not made to follow their 
 own inclinations. I have pushed as fair for liberty as any 
 one ; I have most philosophically thrown off all the chains of 
 custom and subjection ; and also rooted out of my heart all 
 seeds of ambition and avarice. In such a state, if freedom 
 could be found, that lot would sure be mine; yet certain 
 atoms of attraction and repulsion keep me still in suspense ; 
 and I cannot absolutely set the day of my departure, though I 
 very sincerely wish for it, and have one reason more than 
 usual : this town being at present infested with English, who 
 torment me as much as the frogs and lice did the palace of 
 Pharaoh, and are surprised that I will not suffer them to skip 
 about my house from morning till night ; me, that never 
 opened my doors to such sort of animals in England. I wish 
 I knew a corner of the world inaccessible to petits-maitres and 
 fine ladies. I verily believed .when I left London I should 
 choose my own company for the remainder of my days ; 
 which I find more difficult to do abroad than at home ; and 
 with humility I sighing own, 
 
 " Some stronger power eludes the sickly -will. 
 Dashes my rising hope with certain ill ; 
 And makes me with reflective trouble see, 
 That all is destin'd that I fancy'd free." 
 
 I have talked to this purpose with the bearer of this letter : 
 you may talk with him on any subject, for though our ac- 
 quaintance has been very short, it has been long enough to 
 show me that he has an understanding that wiU be agreeable 
 in what light he pleases to show it. 
 
 ^ Probably Lady Pomfret's son. Lord Lempster.— T. 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 69 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFEET. 
 
 Venice, June 29 [1740]. 
 
 YoUE ladyship's letter (which I have this minute received) 
 ■would have been the most agreeable thing in the world, if it 
 had been directed to another ; but I can no more be charmed 
 with it than a duellist can admire the skill by which he is mor- 
 tally wounded. With all the respect I owe you, I cannot for- 
 bear saying, that no woman living ever reproached another 
 with less reason than you do me at present. You can't pos- 
 sibly suspect I have got my chambermaid with child myself 
 for a pretence to stay here. This is a crime of which all man- 
 kind will acquit me ; and if she had any such malicious de- 
 sign in conceiving, I can assure you she had no orders from 
 me ; but, as the song says, 
 
 *' 'Tis e'en but a folly to flounce ; 
 *Tls done, and it cannot be bolp." 
 
 As soon as she is able to travel, I will certainly set out, not- 
 withstanding the information of your Popish priest. There's 
 another thing ; how can you pin your faith upon the sleeve of 
 one of those gentlemen, against the assurances given you by a 
 daughter of the Church of England? After this, you are 
 obUged to me that I do not suspect he can persuade you into a 
 behef in all the miracles in the Legend. All quarrelling apart, 
 if neither death nor sickness intervene, you will certainly see 
 me at Florence. I talk of you every day at present with Mr. 
 Mackenzie,^ who is a very pretty youth, much enchanted by 
 the charms of Lady Sophia, who, I hear from all hands, so far 
 outshines all the Florentine beauties, that none of them dare 
 appear before her. I shall take great pleasure in being spec- 
 tatress of her triumphs ; but yet more in your ladyship's con- 
 versation, which was never more earnestly desired by any one 
 than it is at tliis time by, dearest madam. Yours, &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFEET. 
 
 [Venice, July, 1740.] 
 
 To convince you of my sincere impatience to see you, 
 
 • James Stuart Mackenzie, the younger brother of Lord Bute. — W. 
 
70 CORKESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 though my waiting gentlewoman is not yet brought to bed, I 
 am determined to set out the last day of this month, whether 
 she is able to accompany me or not. I hope for one month's 
 happiness with you at Florence ; and if you then remove to 
 Rome, I will wait on you thither, and shall find double plea- 
 sure in every fine thing I see in your company. You see, 
 whatever acquaintance I have made at Venice, I am ready to 
 sacrifice them to yours. I have already desired my Liondon 
 correspondents to address their letters ti3 your palace, and am, 
 
 Most faithfully yours, &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFEET. 
 
 [Venice] Aug, 12, N.S. [1740]. 
 
 I AM going to give your ladyship a very dangejous proof of 
 my zealous desire of seeing you. I intend to set oiit to-mor- 
 row morning, though I have a very swelled face ; attended by 
 a damsel who has lain in but sixteen days. I hope after this 
 expedition you will never more call in doubt how much I am, 
 dearest madam, yours, &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 Bologna, Aug. 16 [N.S., 1740]. 
 
 I AM thus far arrived towards the promised land, where I 
 expect to see your ladyship ; but shall stay here a day or two 
 to prepare myself for the dreadful passage of the Apennines. 
 In the mean time I have taken the liberty to direct two trunks 
 and a box to your palace. The post is just going out, and 
 hinders me from saying more than that I am 
 
 Ever yours. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF .^ 
 
 Saturday — Florence. 
 
 I SET out from Bologne^ the moment I had finished the 
 letter I wrote you on Monday last, and shall now continue to 
 inform you of the things that have struck me most in this 
 
 ' This letter first appeared in the "Additional Volunie" of 1767, before referred 
 to. Its authenticity is extremely doubtful. — T. 
 
 ' So in the original publication (1767), from which this letter is now printed. — T. 
 
MR. WOETLET MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 71 
 
 excursron. Sad roads — hilly and rocky — between Bologna 
 and Fierenzuola. Between this latter place and Florence, I 
 went ovxt of my road to visit the monastery of La Trappe, 
 which is of French origin, and one of the most austere and 
 self-denying orders I have met with. In this gloomy retreat 
 it gave me pain to observe the infatuation of men, who have 
 devoutly reduced themselves to a much worse condition than 
 that of the beasts. Folly, you see, is the lot of humanity, 
 whether it arises in the flowery paths of pleasure, or the 
 thorny ones of an ill-judged devotion. But of the two sorts 
 of fools, I shall always think that the merry one has the most 
 eligible fate ; and I cannot well form a notion of that spiritual 
 and ecstatic joy, that is mixed with sighs, groans, hunger, and 
 thirst, and the other complicated miseries of monastic disci- 
 pline. It is a strange way of going to work for happiness to 
 excite an enmity between soul and body, which Nature and 
 Providence have designed to live together in union and friend- 
 ship, and which we cannot separate like man and wife when 
 they happen to disagree. The profound silence that is en- 
 joined upon the monks of La Trappe is a singular circum- 
 stance of their unsociable and unnatural discipHne, and were 
 this injunction never to be dispensed with, it would be need- 
 less to visit them in any other character than as a collection of 
 statues ; but the superior of the convent suspended in our 
 favour that rigorous law, and allowed one of the mutes to con- 
 verse with me, and answer a few discreet questions. He told 
 me that the monks of this order in France are stiU more 
 austere than those of Italy, as they never taste wine, flesh, 
 fish, [ox eggs ; but live entirely upon vegetables. The story 
 that is told of the institution of this order is remarkable, and 
 is well attested, if my information be good. Its founder was 
 a French nobleman whose name was Bouthillier de Eanc6, a 
 man of pleasure and gallantry, wliich were converted into the 
 deepest gloom of devotion by the following incident. His 
 affairs obliged him to absent himself, for some time, from a 
 lady with whom he had lived in the most intimate and tender 
 cennesjons of successful love. At his return to Paps he pro- 
 
72 COREESPOlfrDENCE WITH 
 
 posed to surprise her agreeably, and, at the same time, to 
 satisfy his own impatient desire of seeing her, by going directly 
 and -without ceremony to her apartment by a back stair, 
 which he was well acquainted with — but think of the spec-, 
 tacle that presented itself to him at his entrance into the 
 chamber that had so often been the scene of love's highest 
 raptures ! his mistress dead — dead of the small-pox — dis- 
 figured beyond expression — a loathsome mass of putrified 
 matter — and the surgeon separating the head from the body, 
 because the coffin had been made too short ! He stood for a 
 moment motionless in amazement, and filled with horror — and 
 then retired from the world, shut himself up in the convent of 
 La Trappe, where he passed the remainder of his days in the 
 most cruel and disconsolate devotion. — Let us quit this sad 
 subject. 
 
 I must not forget to tell you that before I came to this 
 monastery I went to see the burning mountains near Fieren- 
 zuola, of which the naturalists speak as a great curiosity. The 
 flame it sends forth is without smoke, and resembles brandy 
 set on fire. The ground about it is well cultivated, and the 
 fire appears only in one spot where there is a cavity whose 
 circumference is small, but in it are several crevices whose 
 depths are unlaiown. It is remarkable that when a piece of 
 wood is thrown into this cavity, though it cannot pass through 
 the crevices, yet it is consumed in a moment, and that though 
 the ground about it be perfectly cold, yet if a stick be rubbed 
 with any force against it, it emits a flame, which, however, is 
 neither hot nor durable like that of the volcano. If you desire 
 a more circumstantial account of this phenomenon, and have 
 made a sufficient progress in Italian to read Father Oarrazzi's 
 description of it, you need not be at a loss, for I have sent 
 
 this description to Mr. F , and you have only to ask it of 
 
 him. After observing the volcano, I scrambled up all the 
 neighbouring hills, partly on horseback, partly on foot, but 
 could find no vestige of fire in any of them ; though common 
 report would make one believe that they all contain volcanoes. 
 I hope you have not taken it into your head to expect from 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 73i 
 
 me a description of the famous gallery here, where I arrived 
 on Thursday at noon ; this would be requiring a volume in- 
 stead of a letter ; besides, I have as yet seen but a part of 
 this inunense treasure, and I propose employing some weeks 
 more to survey the whole. You cannot imagine any situa- 
 tion more agreeable than Florence. It lies in a fertile and 
 smiling valley watered by the Amo, which runs through the 
 city, and nothing can surpass the beauty and magnificence of 
 its public buildings, particularly the cathedral, whose grandeur 
 filled me with astonishment. The palaces, squares, fountains, 
 statues, bridges, do not only carry an aspect full of elegance 
 and greatness, but discover a taste quite different, in kind, 
 from that which reigns in the public edifices in other coun- 
 tries. The more I see of Italy, the more I am persuaded that 
 the Italians have a style (if I may use that expression) in 
 everything, which distinguishes them almost essentially from 
 all other Europeans. Where they have got it, whether from 
 natural genius or ancient imitation and inheritance, I shall 
 not examine ; but the fact is certain. I have been but one 
 day in the gallery, that amazing repository of the most pre- 
 cious remains of antiquity, and which alone is sufficient to im- 
 mortalise the illustrious house of Medicis, by whom it was 
 built, and enriched as we now see it. I was so impatient to 
 see the famous Venus of Medicis, that I went hastily through 
 six apartments in order to get a sight of this divine figure, 
 purposing, when I had satisfied this ardent curiosity, to return 
 and view the rest at my leisure. As I, indeed, passed through 
 the great room which contains the ancient statues, I was 
 stopped short at viewing the Antinous, which they have placed 
 near that of Adrian, to revive the remembrance of their pre- 
 posterous loves, which I suppose the Florentines rather look 
 Upon as an object of envy, than of horror and disgust. This 
 statue, like that of the Venus de Medicis, spurns description : 
 such figures my eyes never beheld — I can now understand 
 that Ovid's comparing a fine woman to a statue, which I for- 
 merly thought a very disobliging similitude, was the nicest 
 and highest piece of flattery. The Antinous is entirely naked ^ 
 
74 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 all its parts are bigger than nature ; but the whole taken to- 
 gether, and the fine attitude of the figure, carry such an ex- 
 pression of ease, elegance, and grace, as no words can describe. 
 When I saw the Venus I was wrapped in wonder, — and I 
 could not help casting a thought back upon Antinous. They 
 ought to be placed together. They are worthy of each other. 
 If marble could see and feel, the separation might be prudent. 
 If it could only see, it would certainly lose its coldness and 
 learn to feel, and in such a case the charms of these two 
 figures would produce an effect quite opposite to that of the 
 Gorgon's head, which turned flesh into stone. Did I pretend 
 to describe to you the Venus, it would only set your imagina- 
 tion at work to form ideas of her figure, and your ideas would 
 no more resemble that figure, than the Portuguese face of 
 
 Miss N , who has enchanted our knights, [sic] resembles 
 
 the sweet and graceful countenance of Lady , his former 
 
 flame. The description of a face or figure is a needless thing, 
 as it never conveys a true idea ; it only gTatifies the imagina- 
 tion with a fantastic one, until the real one is seen. So, my 
 dear, if you have a mind to form a true notion of the divine 
 forms and features of the Venus and Antinous, come to Flo- 
 rence. 
 
 I would be glad to oblige you and your friend Vertue, by 
 executing your commission with respect to the sketches of 
 Raphael's cartoons at Hampton Court ; but I cannot do it to 
 my satisfaction. I have, indeed, seen in the grand-duke's 
 collection, four pieces, in which that wonderful artist had 
 throvm freely from his pencil the first thoughts and rude 
 lines of some of these compositions ; and as the first thoughts 
 of a great genius are precious, these pieces attracted my curio- 
 sity in a particular manner; but when I went to examine 
 them closely, I found them so damaged and effaced, that they 
 did not at all answer my expectation. Whether this be owing 
 to negligence or envy, I cannot say; I mention the latter, 
 because it is notorious that many of the modern painters have 
 discovered ignoble marks of envy at a view of the inimitable 
 productions of the ancients. Instead of employing their art 
 
ME. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHEES. 75 
 
 to preserve the masterpieces of antiquity, they have endea- 
 voured to destroy and efface many of tliem. I have seen 
 with my own eyes an evident proof of this at Bologna, where 
 the greatest part of the paintings in fresco on the walls of the 
 convent of St. Michael in Bosco, done by the Caracci and 
 Guido Reni, have been ruined by the painters, who after 
 having copied some of the finest heads, scraped them almost 
 entirely out with nails. Thus you see nothing is exempt from 
 human malignity. 
 
 The word malignity, and a passage in your letter, caU. to 
 my mind the wicked wasp of Twickenham :^ his lies affect 
 me now no more ; they wiU be all as much despised as the 
 story of the seragUo and the handkercliief,^ of which I am 
 persuaded he was the only inventor. That man has a maUg- 
 nant and ungenerous heart ; and ho is base enough to assume 
 the mask of a moralist, in order to decry human nature, and 
 to give a decent vent to his hatred of man and woman kind. — - 
 But I must quit this contemptible subject, on which a just in- 
 dignation would render my pen so fertile, that after having 
 fatigued you with a long letter, I would surfeit you with a 
 supplement twice as long. Besides, a violent headache adver- 
 tises me that it is time to lay down my pen and get me to bed. 
 I shall say some things to you in my next that I would have 
 you to impart to the strange man, as from yourself. My mind 
 is at present tolerably quiet ; if it were as dead to sin, as it is 
 to certain connexions, I should be a great saint. Adieu, my 
 dear madam. 
 
 Yours very affectionately, &c. 
 
 ^ This, of course, refers to Pope. — T, 
 
 2 Lady Mary, in one of the Letters during the Embassy (vol. i. p. 345), alludes to 
 the story of the sultan's selecting one of the ladies of the seraglio by throwing a 
 handkerchief, as " altogether fabulous." The allusion in the text is to a scandalous 
 story which will be found in the Memoirs of the late Edw. W — ly M — tague, 
 Esq., Dublin, 1779 (toI. i. p. 18) ; the writer of which informs his readers that 
 Lady Mary's son was bom during the period of her sojourn at Constantinople, 
 " in the spring of the year 1718 ;" though, in fact, he was bom several years before 
 she left England.— T. 
 
76 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Florence, Aug. [September ?'] 11 [O.S. 1740]. 
 
 This is a very fine town, and I am much amused with 
 visiting the gallery, which I do not doubt you remember too 
 well to need any description of .^ Lord and Lady Pomfret 
 take pains to make the place agreeable to me, and I have been 
 visited by the greatest part of the people of quaUty. Here is 
 an opera which I have heard twice, but it is not so fine either 
 for voices or decorations as that at Venice. I am very willing 
 to be at Leghorn when my things arrive, which I fear will 
 hinder my visiting Rome this season, except they come sooner 
 than is generally expected. If I could go thence to [by 1] sea by 
 [to *?] Naples with safety, I should prefer it to a land journey, 
 which I am told is very difficult ; and that it is impossible I 
 should stay there long, the people being entirely unsociable. 
 I do not desire much company, but would not confine myself 
 to a place where I could get none. I have wrote to your 
 daughter,^ directed to Scotland, this post. 
 
 TO ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Rome/ Oct. 22, N.S. [1740]. 
 
 1 ARRIVED here in good health three days ago ; this is the 
 first post-day. I have taken a lodging for a month, which is 
 (as they tell me) but a short time to take a view of all the an- 
 tiquities, &c., that are to be seen. From hence I purpose to 
 set out for Naples. I am told by everybody that I shall not 
 find it agreeable to reside in. I expect Lady Pomfret's family 
 here in a few days. It is summer here, and I left winter at 
 Florence ; the snows having begun to fall on the moimtains. 
 
 ' This letter, though dated "Aug. 11," is indorsed by Mr. Wortley Montagu 
 " 11 Sept., 1740," which was probably the true date, as he also indorsed, " Rec* 24 
 Sep"-, Ana's 6 Oct."— T. 
 
 2 Lady Pomfret sent a long description of her visit to the gallery -with Lady 
 Mary, wMch the reader may also see in the Hertford and Pomfret Correspondence 
 already mentioned, second edition, ii, 29, 56. — T. 
 
 3 The Countess of Bute. — T. 
 
 * Lady Mary left Florence on the 16th October, N.S., 1740. The Countess of 
 Pomfret, in a letter of that date, says, " Lady Mary's leaving Florence this morn- 
 ing has taken up so much of my time that I cannot extend this letter." — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 77 
 
 I shall probably see the ceremony of the new Pope's taking 
 possession of the Vatican, which is said to be the finest that is 
 ever performed at Rome. I have no news to send from hence. 
 If you woxdd have me to speak to any particular point, I beg 
 you will let me know it, and I will give you the best informa- 
 tion I am able. 
 
 Be pleased to continue directing to Mr. Mann, the English 
 resident at Florence. He will take care to send my letters 
 wherever I am. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 Oct. 22, N.S. [1740]. 
 
 Dear Madam, — I flatter myself that your ladyship's good- 
 ness will give you some pleasure in hearing that I am safely 
 arrived at Rome. It was a violent transition from your palace 
 and company to be locked up all day with my chambermaid, 
 and sleep at night in a hovel ; but my whole life has been in 
 the Pindaric style. I am at present settled in the lodging Sir 
 Francis Dashwood' recommended to me. I liked that Mr. 
 Boughton mentioned to me (which had been Sir Bourchier 
 Wrey's'') much better; 'tis two zechins per month cheaper, 
 and at least twenty more agreeable ; but the landlord woiild 
 not let it, for a very pleasant reason. It seems your gallant 
 knight used to lie with his wife ; and as he had no hopes I 
 would do the same, he resolves to reserve his house for some 
 young man. The only charm belonging to my present habi- 
 tation is the ceiling, which is finer than that of the gallery ; 
 being all painted by the proper hand of Zucchero, in perfect 
 good preservation. I pay as much for this small apartment 
 as your ladyship does for your magnificent palace ; 'tis true I 
 have a garden as large as your dressing-room. I walked last 
 night two hours in that of Borghese, which is one of the most 
 dehghtfiJ I ever saw. I have diverted myself with a plain 
 
 ' Sir Francis Dashwood, a very noted character in his time. He claimed and 
 obtained the old barony of Le Despenser after the death of the Earl of Weatmore^ 
 land.— W. 
 
 ^ Sir Bourchier Wrey, of Tavistock House, Devon, afterwards M.P. for Barn- 
 staple. H. Walpole calls him " a very foojish knight." — T. 
 
78 CORRESPONDENCE "WITH 
 
 discovery of the persons concerned in the letter that was 
 droj)ped in the Opera House. This is all the news I know, 
 and I will not tire you with my thanks for the many civilities 
 for which I am. obliged to your ladyship ; but I shall ever be 
 highly sensible of them, and can never be other than, dear 
 madam, your ladyship's 
 
 Most faithful humble servant. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Rome, Nov. 1, N.S. [1740]. 
 
 I HAVE now been here a week, and am very well diverted 
 with viewing the fine buildings, paintings, and antiquities. I 
 have neither made nor received one visit, nor sent word to any- 
 body of my arrival, on purpose to avoid interruptions of that 
 sort. The weather is so fine that I walk every evening in a 
 different beautiful garden; and I own I am charmed with 
 what I see of this to^vn, though there yet remains a great deal 
 more to be seen. I propose making a stay of [a] month, 
 which shall be entirely taken up in that employment, and then 
 I will remove to Naples, to avoid, if possible, feeling the 
 winter. I do not trouble you -with, any descriptions, since you 
 have been here, and I suppose very well remember everything 
 that is worth remembering ; but if you would have me speak 
 to any particular point, I will give you the best information is 
 in my power. Direct your next letter to Monsieur Belloni, 
 Banquier, k Rome. He will take care to deliver it to me, 
 either here or at Naples. Letters are very apt to miscarry, 
 especially those to this place. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 Rome, Nov. 11 [1740]. 
 
 I RECEIVED the honour of your ladyship's letter but last 
 night. I perceive all letters are stopped. Two that yon. 
 enclosed are from dear Mr. Mackenzie,' pressing vnth the 
 most friendly solicitude my return to Venice, and begging me 
 to let him meet me at Bologna. I am amazed at the good 
 
 ' Mr. Mackenzie expressed throughout his life, and to the end of it, the highest 
 opinion of Lady M. W. Montagu. — W. 
 
ME. WOKTLEY MONTAGU AMD OTHERS. T*d 
 
 natiire of that youth. I could not wish a child of my own a 
 more affectionate behaviour than he has shown to me; and 
 that inducement is added to many others to incline me to 
 
 Venice : but I intend for Naples next week ; but as 
 
 my stay there will not exceed fifteen days, I shall be again 
 here before it is possible for you to arrive ; where I wish you 
 for your own sake. Here are entertainments for all tastes ; 
 and whatever notions I had of the magnificence of Rome, I 
 can assure you it has surpassed all my ideas of it. I am sin- 
 cerely concerned for Mr. Boughton, and wish the air of Pisa 
 may recover his health. — I shall very readily tell your lady- 
 ship all I guess about the said letter. An English lady called 
 Mrs. D'Arcie (what D'Arcie I can't imagine) lodged in the 
 house where I now am, and Sir Francis Dashwood was every 
 day with her ; she went from hence, by the way of Florence, 
 to England. Putting this together, I supposed her the person 
 concerned. This is all I know. You may see that I have no 
 other advantage from this discovery but the bare satisfaction 
 of my curiosity. — The Abb6 Niccolini arrived last night; I 
 believe I shall see him this evening. Here are yet no English 
 of your acquaintance, except Lord Elcho. I am told Lord 
 Lincoln' has taken a large house, and intends to keep a 
 table, &c. The Hfe I now lead is very different from what 
 you fancy. — I go to bed every night at ten, run about all the 
 morning among the antiquities, and walk every evening in a 
 different beautiful villa ; where if amongst the fountains I 
 could find the waters of Lethe, I should be completely happy. 
 
 " Like a deer that is ■wounded I bleed and run on, 
 And fain I my torment would hide. 
 But alas ! 'tis in vain, for wherever I run 
 The bloody dart sticks in my side," 
 
 and I carry the serpent that poisons the paradise I am in. I 
 beg your pardon (dear madam) for this impertinent account of 
 myself; you ought to forgive it, since you would not be 
 
 1 Lord Lincoln, afterwards Duke of Newcastle, was then a young man travelling 
 in Italy with Spence, the friend of Pope, as his governor. They took up their abode 
 in Home in the beginning of December, and stayed there till May, 1741. It was 
 here that Spence made the acquaintance of Lady Mary, whose conversations with 
 him " at Rome" figure in his anecdotes. — T. 
 
80 CORRESPONDENCE VTITH 
 
 troubled with it, if I did not depend upon it that your friend- 
 ship for me interests you in all my concerns ; though I can no 
 way merit it but by the sincerity with which I am, &c. 
 
 TO MR. WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 [Rome] Nov. 12, N.S. [1740]. 
 
 I RECEIVED this morning Mr. Child's bill on Gott and How 
 for 200 [pounds]. I intend not to take it up till I go to 
 Leghorn, where I design to go, to receive my things, which 
 Mr. Mann writes me word are daily expected. I shall set out 
 for Naples on next Friday : I do not doubt liking the situa/- 
 tion, but by all the information I can get, it wiU be every way 
 improper for my residence; and I propose no longer stay 
 there than is necessary to see what is curious. I have been 
 very dihgent in viewing everything here ; making no acquaint- 
 ance, that I might have no interruption. Here is a statue of 
 Antinous lately found, which is said to be equal to any in 
 Rome, and it is to be sold ; perhaps the Duke of Bedford' 
 might be glad to hear of it. I do not hear of one valuable 
 picture that is to be purchased. It has been this last week as 
 dark and rainy as ever I saw it in England. Your letter of 
 September 23 came to me but this day. I perceive letters are 
 stopped and perused more carefully than ever, which hinders 
 my writing any of the reports I hear ; some of them are very 
 extraordinary. The Emperor's ambassador here has taken the 
 character of the Queen of Bohemia's, and, as such, presented 
 his credentials, which have been received. 
 
 I wrote to you the last post very fully as to what concerns 
 my son. I intend to write again to my daughter, though I have 
 had no answer to my last. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Naples, Nov. 23, N.S. [1740]. 
 
 I ARRIVED here last night, after a very disagreeable journey ; 
 I would not in my last give you any account of the present 
 state of Rome, knowing all letters are opened there; but I 
 
 > John, fourth duke. He married, in 1737, Lady Mary's niece, Gertrude, eldest 
 daughter of Lord Gower. — T. 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 81 
 
 cannot help mentioning, what is more curious than all the an- 
 tiquities, which is, that there is literally no money in the 
 whole town, where they follow Mr. Law's ^ system, and live 
 wholly upon paper. 
 
 Belloni, who is the greatest banker not only of Rome but 
 all Italy, furnished me with fifty sequins, which he solemnly 
 swore was all the money he had in the house. They go to 
 market with paper, pay the lodgings with paper, and, in short, 
 there is no specie to be seen, which raises the prices of every- 
 thing to the utmost extravagance, nobody knowing what to ask 
 for their goods. It is said the present Pope'' (who has a very 
 good character) has declared he will endeavour a remedy, 
 though it is very difficult to find one. He was bred a lawyer, 
 and has passed the greatest part of his Ufe in that profession ; 
 and is so sensible of the misery of the state, that he is reported 
 to have said, that he never thought himself in want till since 
 his elevation. He has no relations that he takes any notice of. , 
 The country belonging to him, which I have passed, is almost 
 uninhabited, and in a poverty beyond what I ever saw. The 
 kingdom of Naples appears gay and flourishing ; and the town 
 so crowded with people, that I have with great difficulty got a 
 very sorry lodging. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 Naples, Nov. 25, N.S. [1740]. 
 
 Here I am arrived at length, after a most disagreeable 
 journey. I bought a chaise at Rome, which cost me twenty- 
 five good English pounds : and had the pleasure of being laid 
 low in it the very second day after I set out. I had the mar- 
 vellous good luck to escape with life and limbs ; but my de- 
 lightful chaise broke all to pieces, and I was forced to stay a 
 whole day in a hovel, while it was tacked together in such a 
 manner as would serve to di'ag me hither. To say truth, this 
 accident has very much palled my appetite for travelling. I 
 
 * Alluding to John Law, the projector of the Mississippi scheme. — T. 
 
 * Prospero Lambertini, famous for his wise and beneficent rule. He was elected 
 on the 17th August preceding, and took the title of Benedict XIV. — T. 
 
 VOL. II. G 
 
82 CORKESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 was last night at the opera, which is far the finest in Italy ; it 
 was the Queen's birth-night ; the whole house was illuminated, 
 and the court in its greatest splendour. Mrs. Allen is very- 
 well behaved, and (entre nous) her lover one of the prettiest 
 men I ever saw in any country ; but all is managed with the 
 strictest decency. I have been diverted both at Rome and 
 
 here with Lady W ^'s' memoirs. The consul told me that 
 
 when she first came here she was in the full fury of her 
 passion for Mr. Sturgis. He went once to take the air in a 
 coach with them, and her ladyship was so violent, he protested 
 he had a great mind to have alighted and walked home on 
 foot, rather than have been a spectator. I could not help 
 laughing when I remembered our disputes. 
 
 I am informed here are many pretty houses to be had, and 
 I own I have half a mind to send orders for my goods to be 
 brought hither ; but fixing is a point of such importance, it 
 . deserves to be well considered. I am now sitting comfortably 
 without a fire, and a soft winter is an article of consequence. 
 It is possible there may be as many intrigues here as in other 
 places ; but there is an outward decency that I am pleased 
 with ; and by what I see of the Neapolitans (contrary to then* 
 common character), they appear to me a better sort of people 
 than the Romans, or (if you will give me leave to say it) the 
 Florentines. There seems some tincture of Spanish honour 
 
 ' Margaret EoUe, wife of Robert Lord Walpole. If Lady Mary's statement is 
 to be believed (see letter to Lady Mar, i. 499), Lady Walpole was married before 
 she was thirteen ; but this was probably a slight exaggeration, implying only that 
 she married very young. She parted from her husband in 1734, and went to 
 Naples, and afterwards to Rome and Florence, in which city she was now re- 
 siding. Horace Walpole alludes frequently to his sister-in-law and her profligate 
 habits. When Lady Walpole was about to leave England, the wits of the Beef- 
 steak Club showed their antipathy to Sir Robert by addressing her in the follow- 
 ing " toast :" 
 
 " Go, sprightly Rolle, go, traverse earth and sea, 
 And fly the land where beauty is not free. 
 By your own wealth enslaved to one you hate, 
 Mourn not your own, but think on Britain's fate. 
 Life may be welcome on some happy shore. 
 Where not a W. [Walpole] shall approach thee more." 
 Lady Walpole had a large fortune, which was augmented shortly before the date 
 of this letter by a considerable legacy from her uncle and guardian, Roger Tuck, 
 field. She was afterwards married to Mr. Shirley, from whom she also separated. 
 In 1751 she baecame a bronesa in her own right, with the title of Clinton. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLET MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 83 
 
 amongst them ; and in favour of that I can forgive a little 
 Spanish formality. However, I have yet determined nothing ; 
 but wherever I am, I shall be, dear madam, faithfully yours, 
 &c. 
 
 TO MR.-WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Naples, Dec. 6, N.S. [1740 J 
 
 I HEARD last night the good news of the arrival of the ship 
 on which my things are loaded, at Leghorn : it would be easy 
 to have them conveyed hither. I like the climate extremely, 
 which is now so soft, I am actually sitting without any want 
 of a fire. I do not find the people so savage as they were re- 
 presented to me. I have received visits from several of the 
 principal ladies ; and I think I could meet with as much com- 
 pany here as I desire ; but here is one article both disagreeable 
 and incommodious, which is the grandeur of the equipages. 
 Two coaches, two running footmen, four other footmen, a 
 gentleman usher, and two pages, are as necessary here as the 
 attendance of a single servant is at London. All the Spanish 
 customs are observed very rigorously. I could content myself 
 with all of them except this : but I see plainly, from my own 
 observation as well as intelligence, that it is not to be dispensed 
 with, which I am heartily vexed at. 
 
 The affairs of Europe are now so uncertain, it appears rea- 
 sonable to me to wait a little, before I fix my residence, that I 
 may not find myself in the theatre of war, which is threatened 
 on all sides. I hope you have the continuation of your health ; 
 mine is very well estabhshed at present. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Naples, Dec. 12, N.S. [1740]. 
 
 I HAVE received half an hour ago two letters from you — • 
 the one dated October the 6th, the other the 23rd. I am sur- 
 prised you have received none from me during the whole 
 month of August, having wrote several ; but I perceive all 
 letters are stopped, and many lost. I gave my daughter a 
 direction to me long since ; but, as far as I can find, she has 
 
 g2 
 
^4: CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 never received either that or another which I directed to her 
 in Scotland. The town lately discovered is at Portici, about 
 three miles from this place. Since the first discovery, no care 
 has been taken, and the ground fallen in, [so] that the present 
 passage to it is, as I am told by everybody, extreme danger- 
 ous, and for some time nobody ventures into it. I have been 
 assured by some English gentlemen, that were let down into 
 it the last year, that the whole accoimt given in the news- 
 papers is literally true. Probably great curiosities might be 
 found there : but there has been no expense made, either by 
 propping the groimd, or clearing a way into it ; and as the 
 earth falls in daily, it will possibly be soon stopped up, as it 
 was before. I wrote to you, last post, a particular account of 
 my reasons for not choosing my residence here, though the air 
 is very agreeable to me, and I see I could have as much com- 
 pany as I desire; but I am persuaded the climate is much 
 changed since you knew it. The weather is now very moist 
 and misty, and has been so for a long time ; however, it is 
 much softer than in any other place I know. I desire you 
 would direct to Monsieur Belloni, banker, at Rome : he will 
 forward your letters wherever I am; the present imcertain 
 situation of affairs all over Europe makes every correspond- 
 ence precarious. 
 
 I am sorry to trouble you with the enclosed to my daughter; 
 but as she seems concerned for not hearing from me, and I 
 have reason to fear that no letter directed to her in Scotland 
 will arrive safe, I send her these few lines. 
 
 TO ME. WOETLET MONTAGU. 
 
 Naples, Dec. 27, N.S. [1740]. 
 
 I DID not write to you last post, hoping to have been able 
 to have given you an account in this of everything I had ob- 
 served at Portici; but I have not yet obtained the King's 
 license, which must he had before I can be admitted to see the 
 pictures, and fragments of statues which have been found 
 there, and has been hitherto delayed on various pretences, it 
 being at present a very singular favour. They say that some 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 85 
 
 English carried a painter with them the last year to copy the 
 pictures, which renders it more difficult at present to get leave 
 to see them. I have taken all possible pains to get informa- 
 tion of this subterranean building, and am told 'tis the remains 
 of the ancient city of Hercolana, and by what I can collect, 
 there was a theatre entire, with all the scenes and ancient de- 
 corations : they have broke it to pieces by digging irregularly. 
 I hope in a few days to get permission to go, and wiU then 
 give you the exactest description I am capable of. I have 
 received no letters these three weeks, which does not surprise 
 me though it displeases me very much, hearing the same com- 
 plaint made by everybody. Mount Vesuvius is much dimi- 
 nished, as I am generally told, since the last great eruption, 
 which was four years ago. The court here is magnificent, 
 and all the customs entirely Spanish. The new opera-house, 
 built by this king, is the largest in Europe. I hear a great 
 deal of news, true or false, but cannot communicate it at this 
 time. I hope my next letter will be more particular. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Rome, Jan. 13, N.3. [1741]. 
 
 I RETURNED hither last night, after six weeks' stay at 
 Naples ; great part of that time was vainly taken up in en- 
 deavouring to satisfy your curiosity and my own, in relation 
 to the late-discovered town of Hercolana. I waited eight days, 
 in hopes of permission to see the pictures and other rarities 
 taken from thence, which are preserved in the king's palace 
 at Portici ; but I found it was to no purpose, his majesty 
 keeping the key in his own cabinet, which he wotdd not part 
 with, though the Prince de Zathia (who is one of his favou- 
 rites), I beheve, very sincerely tried his interest to obtain it for 
 me. He is son to the Spanish ambassador I knew at Venice, 
 and both he and his lady loaded me with civilities at Naples. 
 The court in general is more barbarous than any of the 
 ancient Goths. One proof of it, among many others, was 
 melting down a beautiful copper statue of a vestal found in 
 this new ruin, to make medallions for the late solemn christen- 
 
86 COKEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 ing. The whole court follow the Spanish customs and politics. 
 I could say a good deal on this subject if I thought my letter 
 would come safe to your hands ; the apprehension it may not, 
 hinders my answering another inqiiiry you make, concerning 
 a family here, of which, indeed, I can say little, avoiding all 
 commerce with those that frequent it. Here are some young 
 English travellers ; among them Lord Strafford^ behaves him- 
 self really very modestly and genteely, and has lost the pert- 
 ness he acquired in his mother's assembly. Lord Lincoln 
 appears to have spirit and sense, and professes great abhorrence 
 of all measures destructive to the liberty of his country. I do 
 not know how far the young men may be corrupted on their 
 retivn, but the majority of those I have seen, have seemed 
 strongly in the same sentiment. Lady Newburgh's eldest 
 daughter,^ whom I believe you may have seen at L. [Lord] 
 Westmoreland's, is married to Count Mahony, who is in great 
 figure at Naples : she was extreme obliging to me ; they 
 made a fine entertainment for me, carried me to the opera, 
 and were civil to me to the utmost of their power. If you 
 should happen to see Mrs. Bulkely,^ I wish you would make 
 her some compliment upon it. I received this day yours of 
 the 20th and 28th of November. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 Kome, January 20, N.S. [1741]. 
 
 This is the fourth letter I have wrote to your ladyship, 
 since I had the honour of hearing from you. I own I am 
 much mortified at it. I do not doubt my letters have mis- 
 carried, for' I cannot believe your silence proceeds from any 
 
 ' William Wentworth, the fourth Earl of Strafford, married Lady Anne, second 
 daughter of John Duke of Argyll, sister of Lady Mary Coke and Lady Betty 
 Mackenzie. He built the south front of Wentworth Castle, in Yorkshire, and was 
 eminently skilled in architecture and virtu. He enjoyed an intimate friendship 
 with the last Lord Orford, in the fifth volume of whose works his correspondence 
 is published from 1756 to 1790.— D. 
 
 2 Lady Frances Clifford, the daughter of the Countess of Newburgh by her first 
 husband. Lady Newburgh was a peeress in her own right. She married, secondly, 
 the Jacobite Charles Radcliffe, son of the Earl of Derwentwater, and after the re- 
 bellion fled with her husband to France. — T. 
 
 ^ Mrs. Cautillon, one of Lady Mary's correspondents, now the wife of Co lonel 
 Bulkely, an Irish gentleman. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 87 
 
 other cause. In the mean time I must suffer greatly in your 
 opinion if you think me stupid or ungrateful enough to neglect 
 a correspondence which is every way so advantageous to me. 
 I am returned from Naples, where I was much tempted to fix 
 my residence, both from the charms of the climate, and the 
 many civilities I met with. Some considerations made me 
 decHne it ; and since my arrival here I have received such 
 pressing and obliging letters from my friends at Venice, I can 
 hardly resist my inclination to go thither. I am ashamed of 
 my irresolution, but I own I am still undetermined. You see 
 I confess to you all my weakness. My baggage is arrived at 
 Leghorn ; and, wherever I turn myself afterwards, it is neces- 
 sary for me to go thither to give some orders concerning it ; I 
 only wait for the moonlight to begin my journey. I see all 
 the EngHsh here every day, and amongst them Lord Lincoln, 
 who is really, I think, very deserving, and appears to have 
 both spirit and understanding. They all expect your lady- 
 ship's family here before the end of the carnival. I wish my 
 affairs would permit me to stay till that time, if it be true you 
 intend coming, othervpise the shows give me very little 
 curiosity. The Abb6 Niccolini is very obliging to me, but I 
 fear his interest is not sufficient to do the service to my friend, 
 that I endeavour with all my heart ; though I've little hopes 
 of success from what the Venetian ambassador told me last 
 night. I had last post a great deal of news from England, 
 but as I suppose you had the same, I do not trouble you vrith 
 the repetition. I hope all your family continue in health and 
 beauty. 
 
 I am ever, dear madam, your ladyship's, &c. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 Rome, February 15 [1741]. 
 
 Your ladyship's letters are so concise, I suppose you neither 
 expected or desired a quick return to them ; however, I could 
 not let slip this opportunity of assuring you that you have still 
 in being a very sincere (though perhaps insignificant) humble 
 servant. If you could know all niy behaviour here, you would 
 be thoroughly convinced of this truth, and of my endeavours 
 
oo CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 to serve you. I was not at all surprised at the sight of Mr. 
 Sturgis ; he has the very face of a lover kicked out of doors ; 
 and I pity his good heart, at the same time I despise his want 
 of spirit. I confess I am amazed (with your uncommon 
 imderstanding) that you are capable of drawing such false 
 consequences. Because I tell you another woman has a very 
 agreeable lover, you conclude I am in love with him myself ; 
 when God knows I have not seen one man since I left you, 
 that has affected me otherwise than if he had been carved in 
 marble. Some figures have been good, others have been Ql 
 made : and all equally indifferent to me. The news I have 
 heard from London is, Lady Margaret Hastings^ having dis- 
 posed of herself to a poor wandering methodist ; Lady Lucy 
 Manners being engaged to Mr. Pawlet; Miss Henshaw married 
 to Captain Strickland; and Lady Carnarvon receiving the 
 honoiurable addresses of Sir Thomas Robinson : here is a great 
 heap of our sex's folly. 
 
 I intend setting out for Leghorn the next Sunday, and 
 from thence I am yet undetermined. What is very pleasant, 
 I have met two men exactly in the same circumstances. The 
 one is Prince Couteau (brother to the Princess of Campo 
 Florida), who has abandoned his country on being disgusted 
 with his wife ; and the other a Genoese abb^, who has both 
 wit and learning in a very ugly form, and who on a disagree- 
 able adventure is resolved never to retiu-n to Genoa. We 
 often talk over every town in Europe, and find some objection 
 or other to every one of them. 
 
 If it wotdd suit your conveniency to see me at Sienna, I 
 would stop there to receive that pleasure. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Leghorn, Feb. 25, N.S. [1741]. 
 
 I AKBIVED here last night, and have received this morning 
 the bUl of nine hundred and five dollars, odd money. 
 
 ' Lady Margaret Hastings, daughter of the Earl of Huntingdon, married the 
 Rev. Benjamin Ingham, who had become a zealous disciple of John "Wesley. 
 Lord Whamcliffe remarks, that, with this exception, " perhaps none of this news 
 was true. Lady Lucy Manners certainly married the Duke of Montrose."— T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 89 
 
 I shall be a little more particular in my accounts from hence 
 than I durst be from Rome, where all the letters are opened 
 and often stopped. I hope you had mine, relating to the anti- 
 quities in Naples. I shall now say something of the court of 
 Rome. The first minister. Cardinal Valenti, has one of the 
 best characters I ever heard [of], though of no great birth, 
 and has made his fortune by an attachment to the Duchess of 
 Salviati. The present Pope is very much beloved, and seems 
 desirous to ease the people and deliver them out of the mise- 
 rable poverty they are reduced to. I will send you the history 
 of his elevation, as I had it from a very good hand, if it will 
 be any amusement to you. I never saw the chevalier' during 
 my whole stay at Rome, I saw his two sons at a public ball in 
 masque ; they were very richly adorned with jewels. The 
 eldest seems thoughtless enough, and is really not imlike Mr. 
 Lyttelton^ in his shape and air. The youngest is very well 
 made, dances finely, and has an ingenuous countenance ; he 
 is but fourteen years of age. The family live very splendidly, 
 yet pay everybody, and (wherever they get it) are certainly 
 in no want of money. I heard at Rome the true tragical 
 history of the Princess Sobieski,^ which is very different from 
 what was said at London. The Pope, Clement the Twelfth, 
 was commonly supposed her lover, and she used to go about 
 publicly in his state coach, to the great scandal of the people. 
 Her husband's mistress* spirited him up to resent it, so far 
 that he left Rome upon it, and she retired to a convent, where 
 she destroyed herself. The English travellers at Rome behave 
 in general very discreetly. I have reason to speak well of 
 them, since they were all exceeding obhging to me. It may 
 
 ' James Frederick Edward Stuart, the son of James II., generally called the 
 Chevalier de St. George.— T. 
 
 ^ Afterwards Lord Lyttelton. — T. 
 
 ^ Clementina, daughter of Prince James Sobieski of Poland. — T. 
 
 * The wife of Colonel Hay, a gentleman in the Scotch Guards. Colonel Hay 
 had been created by the Pretender Lord Inverness, by which title he was desig- 
 nated by the Jacobites. Mrs. Hay was believed to be the mistress of the Pre- 
 tender ; and it was said that Lord and Lady Mar were " driven from the Pre- 
 tender's court to make way for the new favourite." Mrs. Hay was a daughter or 
 Viscount Stormont. She is described by a contemporary as " a handsome woman 
 but ambitious, and of an enterprising spirit." — T. 
 
90 COKEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 sound a little vain to say it, but they really paid a regular 
 court to me, as if I had been their queen, and their governors 
 told me, that the desire of my approbation had a very great 
 influence on their conduct. While I stayed there was neither 
 gaming nor any sort of extravagance. I used to preach to 
 them very freely, and they all thanked me for it. I shall stay 
 some time in this town, where I expect Lady Pomfret. I 
 think I have answered every particular you seemed curious 
 about. If there be any other point you would have me speak 
 of, I will be as exact as I can. Direct, " Recommande a Mon- 
 sieur Jackson, N^gociant k Livourne I'Anglais." 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFEET. 
 
 Leghorn, March 3rd [1741]. 
 
 I AM extremely sorry (dear madam) that things have turned 
 out so unluckily to hinder me the pleasure of your conversa- 
 tion ; I really believed Lord Strafford intended to go straight 
 to Florence, instead of which he has been at Leghorn, Pisa, 
 and Lucca, which has occasioned these mistakes. When you 
 arrive at Rome, I am persuaded you will be convinced of my 
 endeavours to serve you ; and Pm very positive nothing but 
 ill management can hinder that affair from succeeding. I 
 own it will require some skiU, from the opposition it is Hke to 
 meet with. I am now expecting every hour to be summoned 
 on board, or I would take a trip to Florence to inform you of 
 everything. I am sorry you seem to doubt the benignity of 
 your stars ; pray trust to mine, which (though of httle use to 
 myself ) have never failed of showering some good fortune 
 where I wished it, as I do most sincerely to you ; being, dear 
 madam. Faithfully yours. 
 
 TO ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 [Turin] AprU 11, N.S. [1741]. 
 
 I TAEE this opportunity of writing to you on many subjects 
 in a freer manner than I durst do by the post,' knowing that 
 
 ' This letter waa conveyed by Mr. Mackenzie. — T. 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 91 
 
 all letters are opened both here and in other places, which 
 occasions them to be often lost, besides other inconveniences 
 that may. happen. The English politics are the general jest 
 of all th0. nations I have passed through ; and even those v(rho 
 profit by pur follies cannot help laughing at our notorious 
 blunders ; though they are aU persuaded that the minister 
 does not act from weakness but corruption, and that the 
 Spanish gold influences his measures. I had a long discourse 
 with Count Mahony on this subject, who said, very freely, 
 that half the ships sent to the coast of Naples, that have lain 
 idle in our ports last summer, would have frightened the 
 Queen of Spain into a submission to whatever terms we 
 thought proper to impose. The people, who are loaded with 
 taxes, hate the Spanish government, of which I had daily 
 proofs, hearing them curse the English for bringing their 
 king to them, whenever they saw any of our nation : but I 
 ani not much siirprised at the ignorance of our ministers, after 
 seeing what creatures they employ to send them intelligence. 
 Except Mr. Villette, at this court, there is not one that has 
 common sense : I say this without prejudice, all of them having 
 been as civil and serviceable to me as they could. I was 
 told at Rome, and convinced of it by circumstances, there have 
 been great endeavours to raise up a sham plot : the person 
 who told it me was an English antic[uarian, who said he had 
 been offered any money to send accusations. The truth is, 
 he had carried a letter, wrote by Mr. Mann,' from Florence 
 to that ptirpose to him, which he showed in the English palace ; 
 however, I beUeve he is a spy, and made use of that stratagem 
 to gain credit. This court makes great preparations for war : 
 the king is certainly no bright genius, but has great natural 
 humanity : his minister, who has absolute power, is generally 
 allowed to have sense ; as a proof of it, he is not hated as the 
 generahty of ministers are. I have seen neither of them, not 
 going to court because I will not be at the trouble and expense 
 of the dress, which is the same as at Vienna. I sent my 
 
 ' Afterwarda Sir Horace Mann, the friend and correspondent of Horace TVal- 
 pole.— T. 
 
92 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 excuse by Mr. Villette, as I hear is commonly practised by 
 ladies that are only passengers. I have had a great number 
 of visitors ; the nobility piquing themselves on civility to 
 strangers. The weather is still exceedingly cold, and I do not 
 intend to move till I have the prospect of a pleasant journey. 
 
 TO MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Genoa, July 15 [1741]. 
 
 It is so long since I have heard from you, that though I 
 hope your silence is occasioned by your being in the country, 
 yet I cannot help being very uneasy, and in some apprehen- 
 sion that you are indisposed. I wrote you word some time 
 ago, that I have taken a house here for the remainder of the 
 summer, and desired you would direct, " Recommand6 k Mon- 
 sieur Birtles, Consul de S. M. Britannique." I saw in the last 
 newspapers (which he sends me) the death of Lord Oxford." 
 I am vexed at it for the reasons you know, and recollect what 
 I've often heard you say, that it is impossible to judge what is 
 best for ourselves. 
 
 TO MR. WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Genoa, July 29, N.S. [1741]. 
 
 I RECEIVED yesterday the bill for 250^., for which I return 
 you thanks. If I wrote you all the political stories I hear, I 
 should have a great deal to say. A great part is not true, 
 and what I think so, I dare not mention, in consideration of 
 the various hands this paper must pass through before it 
 reaches you. Lord Lincoln and Mr. Walpole (youngest son 
 to Sir Robert) left this place two days ago ; they visited me 
 during their short stay ; they are gone to Marseilles, and 
 design passing some months in the south of France. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Genoa, Aug, 15, N.S. [1741]. 
 
 I AM sorry to trouble you on so disagreeable a subject as 
 our son, but I received a letter from him last post, in which 
 
 ' See note opposite. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 93 
 
 he solicits your dissolving his marriage, as if it was wholly in 
 your power, and the reason he gives for it, is so that he may 
 marry more to your satisfaction. It is very vexatious (though 
 no more than I expected) that time has no effect, and that it 
 is impossible to convince him of his true situation. He 
 enclosed this letter in one to Mr. Birtles, and tells me that he 
 does not doubt that debt of 2001. is paid. You may imagine 
 this silly proceeding occasioned me a dun from Mr. Birtles. 
 I told him the person that wrote the letter, was, to my know- 
 ledge, not worth a groat, which was all I thought proper to 
 say on the subject. Here is arrived a little while since, 
 
 Count , who was president of the council of war, and 
 
 enjoyed many other great places under the late emperor. 
 He is a Spaniard. The next day after his arrival, he went to 
 the Doge, and declared himself his subject, and from thence 
 to the archbishop, and desired to be received as one of his 
 flock. He has taken a great house at Pierre I'Arfene, where 
 he sees few people, but what I think particular, he has brought 
 with him thirty-five cases of books. I have had a particular 
 account of Lord Oxford's death^ from a very good hand, 
 which he advanced by choice, refusing all remedies tiU it was 
 too late to make use of them. There was a wUl found, dated 
 1728, in which he gave everything to my lady : which has 
 affected her very much. Notwithstanding the many reasons 
 she had to complain of him, I always thought there was more 
 weakness than dishonesty in his actions, and is [sic] a confir- 
 mation of the truth of that maxim of Mr. Rochefoucault, un 
 sot na pas assez dUdtoffe pour etre honnete homme. 
 
 ^ Edward Earl of Oxford, Pope*s correspondent. Lord Orrery thus alludea 
 to his death in a letter dated July 7, 1741 : " Poor Lord Oxford is gone to 
 those regions from whence travellers never return, unless in an airy visit to 
 faithless lovers, as Margaret to "William ; or to cities devoted to destruction, as 
 Hector amidst the flames of Troy. The deceased earl has left behind him many 
 boolcs, many manuscripts, and no money. His lady brought him five hundred 
 thousand pounds; four of which have been sacrificed to indolence, good nature, 
 and want of worldly wisdom ; and there will still remain, after proper sales and 
 right management, five thousand a year for his widow." — T. 
 
94 CdERESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU- 
 
 [Genoa] Aug. 26, N.S. [1741]. 
 
 I EECEXVED yours of the 27th July this morning. I had 
 that of March 19, which I answered very particularly the fol- 
 lowing post, with many thanks for the increase of my allow- 
 ance. It appears to me that the letters I wrote between the 
 11th of April and the 31st of May were lost, which I am not 
 surprised at. I was then at Turin, and that court in a very 
 great confusion, and extreme jealous of me, thinking I came 
 to examine their conduct. I have some proof of this, which I 
 do not repeat, lest this should be stopped also. 
 
 The manners of Italy are so much altered since we were 
 here last,* the alteration is scarce credible. They say it has 
 been by the last war. The French, being masters, introduced 
 all their customs, which were eagerly embraced by the ladies, 
 and I believe will never be laid aside; yet the different 
 governments make different manners in every state. You 
 know, though the republic is not rich, here are many private 
 families vastly so, and live at a great superfluous expense : 
 all the people of the first quality keep coaches as fine as 
 the Speaker's, and some of them two or three, though the 
 streets are too narrow to use them in the town ; but they take 
 the air in them, and their chairs carry them to the gates. The 
 liveries are all plain : gold or silver being forbidden to be 
 worn within the walls, the habits are all obhged to be black > 
 but they wear exceeding fine lace and linen ; and in their 
 coimtry-houses, which are generally in the faubourg, they 
 dress very rich, and have extreme fine jewels. Here is no- 
 thing cheap but houses. A palace fit for a prince may be 
 hired for fifty pounds per annum : I mean unfurnished. All 
 games of chance are strictly prohibited, and it seems to me the 
 only law they do not try to evade : they play at quadrille,^ 
 piquet, &c., but not high. Here are no regular pubhc assem- 
 bhes. I have been visited by all of the first rank, and invited 
 to several fine dinners, particularly to the wedding of one of 
 the house of Spinola, where there were ninety-six sat down 
 
 ' On their return from Constantinople in 1718. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 95 
 
 to table, and I think the entertainment one of the finest I ever 
 saw. There was the night following a ball and supper for the 
 same company, with the same profusion. They tell me that 
 all their great marriages are kept in the same public manner. 
 Nobody keeps more than two horses, all their journeys being 
 post ; the expense of them, including the coachman, is (I am 
 told) fifty poimds per annum. A chair is very near as much ; 
 I give eighteen francs a week for mine. The senators can 
 converse with no strangers during the time of their magistracy, 
 which lasts two years. The number of servants is regulated, 
 and almost every lady has the same, which is two footmen, a 
 gentleman-usher, and a page, who follows her chair. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 Turin, October 2 [1741]. 
 
 I HAD the honour of seeing Lord Lempster yesterday, who 
 told me to my great surprise your letter complains of my 
 silence, while I was much mortified at yours, having never 
 heard once from you since I left Leghorn, though I have 
 wrote several times. I suppose our frequent removals have 
 occasioned this breach in our correspondence, which it will be 
 a great pleasure to me to renew. I hear you are very well 
 diverted at Bruxelles ;^ I am very much pleased here, where 
 the people in general are more polite and obliging than in 
 most parts of Italy. I am told Lady Walpole is at present at 
 Verona, and intends to pass the carnival at Venice. Mrs. 
 Pratt^ passed this way last week ; the Duchess of Buckingham 
 is daily expected. Italy is likely to be blessed with the sight 
 of English ladies of every sort and size. I stayed some time 
 at Genoa, tempted to it by the great civilities I received there, 
 and the opportunity of hiring a palace in the most beautiful 
 situation I ever saw. I was visited there by Lord Lincoln 
 and Mr. Walpole, who informed me that you hurried away 
 from Venice, designing for England. I hope some good occa- 
 
 * Lady Pomfret had resided in Brussels since the previous July. — T. 
 
 ^ Daughter of John Pratt, Esq., of the city of Dublin, and sister of the wife of 
 Sir George Savile. She appears to have been a connexion of the Duchess of 
 Buckingham, and to have travelled with her. — T. 
 
96 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 sion has stopped you. I do not doubt you have heard Mrs. 
 Golds-worthy's melancholy history ; which is very comical.^ I 
 saw often Signora Clelia Durazzo, who was your friend and 
 very much mine ; and we had the pleasure of talking fre- 
 quently of your ladyship, in many parties we had together. I 
 have thus given you a long account of my travels, I hope to 
 have in return the history of yours. I am told, since I began 
 this letter, that Miss Windsor,^ who is very well married in 
 Holland (I forget the name), is gone to Naples. I think I 
 was very unlucky not to meet with her ; I should be very glad 
 to have an opportunity of showing my regard to your ladyship 
 in serving any of your relations ; and perhaps my experience 
 might be of some use to a stranger. If my intelligence from 
 hence can be any way agreeable to you, you have a right to 
 command it. I wish I could show you more effectually how 
 much I am 
 
 Ever yours. 
 Be pleased to direct, " Recommand^ k Mons. Villette, Mi- 
 nistre de S. M. Britannique." 
 
 ' Mrs. Goldsworthy, of whom we have an anecdote subsequently, was a daughter 
 of Captain Vanbrugh, commander of a man-of-war. She married Barrington 
 Goldsworthy, Esq., a nephew of Sir Charles Wager, and was now residing at Leg- 
 horn with her husband, who was British consul there. Walpole calls her " a pert 
 little unbred thing ;" and has several jokes upon her ignorance and aifectation, but 
 Walpole was prejudiced against her husband, whom he believed to be endeavouring 
 to supplant his friend Mann at Florence. What was' the " melancholy" history here 
 alluded to does not appear ; but it was probably the story of General Wach- 
 tendonck, commander of the grand-duke's troops at Leghorn, and " the hundred 
 sequins per month" obscurely hinted at in Walpole's letter to Mann of Nov. 2, 
 1741. General Wachtendonck, according to Walpole, was a "Cicisbeo to the 
 consul's wife." Her more serious misfortune, which happened somewhat later, may 
 perhaps help to piece out the story. See letter to Lady Pomfret, Avignon, Nov. 
 4, N.S. [1742].— T. 
 
 2 Thomas Windsor, created an Irish peer by King William III. by the title of 
 Viscount Windsor, and a British peer by the title of Baron Mountjoy, by Queen 
 Anne ; married Charlotte (Lady Charlotte Herbert, only daughter of Philip seventh 
 Earl of Pembroke), widow of John Jeffries, the second Lord Jeflfries of Wem, the 
 father of Lady Pomfret; so that Miss Windsor was half-sister to Lady Pomfret. — 
 This Miss Windsor was married to Monsieur d'Estevan von Berkenrode, of the 
 haute noblesse of Holland ; afterwards for forty years the Dutch ambassador at 
 Paris.— T. 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHEFS. St 
 
 TO MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Geneva, Oct. 12 [1741]. 
 
 I ARRIVED here last night, where I find eveiything quite 
 different from what it was represented to me : it is not the 
 first time it has happened to me on my travels. Everything 
 is as dear as it is at London. 'Tis true, as all equipages are 
 forbidden, that expense is entirely retrenched. I have been 
 visited this morning by some of the chief people in the town, 
 who seem extreme good sort of people, which is their general 
 character; very desirous of attracting strangers to inhabit 
 vdth them, and consequently very officious in all they imagine 
 can please them. The way of living is absolutely the reverse 
 of that in Italy. Here is no show, and a great deal of eating ; 
 there is all the magnificence imaginable, and no dinners but 
 on particular occasions ; yet the difference of the prices ren- 
 ders the total expense very near equal. As 1 am not yet 
 determined whether I shall make any considerable stay, I de- 
 sire not to have the money you intend me, till I ask for it. If 
 you have any curiosity for the present state of any of the 
 states of Italy, I believe I can give you a truer account than 
 perhaps any other traveller can do, having always had the 
 good fortune of a soit of intimacy with the first persons in the 
 governments where I resided, and they not guarding them- 
 selves against the observations of a woman, as they would liave 
 done from those of a man. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Geneva, Nov. 5, N.S. [1741]. 
 
 I HAVE now been here a month : I have wrote to you three 
 times without hearing from you, and cannot help being luieasy 
 at your silence. I think this air does not agree with my 
 health. I have had a return of many complaints from which 
 I had an entire Cessation during my stay in Italy, which makes 
 me incline to return thither, though a winter journey over the 
 Alps is very disagreeable. The people here are very well to 
 be liked, and this little republic has an air of the simplicity of 
 old Rome in its earliest age. The magistrates toil with their 
 
 VOL. II. H 
 
98 CORRESPONDENCE- WITH 
 
 own hands, and their wives Hterally dress their dinners against 
 their return from their little senate. Yet without dress or 
 equipage 'tis as dear living here for a stranger, as in places 
 where one is obliged to both, from the price of all sort of pro- 
 vision, which they are forced to buy from their neighbours, 
 having almost no land of their own. I am very impatient to 
 hear from you. Here are many reports concerning the Eng- 
 lish affairs, which 1 am sometimes splenetic enough to give 
 credit to. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 Chambery, Nov. 30, N.S. [1741]. 
 
 I RECEIVED this morning yours of October 26th, which has 
 taken me out of the imeasiness of fearing for your health. I 
 suppose you know before this the Spaniards are landed at 
 different ports in Italy, &c. When I received early informa/- 
 tion of the design, I had the charity to mention it to the 
 EngUsh consul (without naming my informer) ; he laughed, 
 and answered it was impossible. This may serve for a small 
 specimen of the general good intelligence our wise ministry 
 have of all foreign affairs. If you were acquainted with the 
 people they employ, you would not be surprised at it. Except 
 Mr. Villette at Turin (who is a very reasonable man), there 
 is not one of them who knows anything more of the country 
 they inhabit than that they eat and sleep in it. I have wrote 
 you word that I left Geneva on the sharpness of the air, 
 which much disagreed with me. I find myself better here, 
 though the weather is very cold at present. Yet this situa- 
 tion is not subject to those terrible winds which reign at 
 Geneva. I dare write you no news, though I hear a great 
 deal. Direct to me at Chambery, en Savoye, par Paris. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 Chambery, December 3, N.S. [1741]. 
 
 At length, dear madam, I have the pleasure of hearing 
 from you ; I hope you have found everything in London to 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 99 
 
 your satisfaction. I believe it will be a little surprise to you 
 to hear that I am fixed for this winter in this little obscure 
 town ; which is generally so much unknown, that a descrip- 
 tion of it will at least have novelty to recommend it. Here is 
 the most profound peace and unbounded plenty that is to be 
 found in any comer of the universe ; but not one rag of money. 
 For my part, I think it amounts to the same thing, whether 
 one is obliged to give several pence for bread, or can have a 
 great deal of bread for a penny, since the Savoyard nobility 
 here keep as good tables, without money, as those in London, 
 who spend in a week what would be here a considerable yearly 
 revenue. Wine, which is equal to the best Burgundy, is sold 
 for a penny a quart, and I have a cook for very small wages, 
 that is capable of rivalling Chloe.' Here are no equipages 
 but chairs, the hire of which is about a crovsm a week, and all 
 other matters proportionable. I can assure you I make the 
 figure of the Duchess of Marlborough, by carrying gold in 
 my purse ; there being no visible coin but copper. Yet we 
 are all people that can produce '^pedigrees to serve for the 
 Order of Malta. Many of us have travelled, and 'tis the 
 fashion to love reading. We eat together perpetually, and 
 have assemblies every night for conversation. To say truth, 
 the houses are all biiilt after the manner of the old English 
 towns ; nobody having had money to build for two hundred 
 years past. Consequently the walls are thick, the roofs low^ 
 &c., the streets narrow, and miserably paved. However, a 
 concurrence of circumstances obliges me to this residence for 
 some time. You have not told me your thoughts of Venice. 
 I heartily regret the loss of those letters you mention, and 
 have no comfort but in the hopes of a more regular corre- 
 spondence for the future. I cannot compassionate the coun- 
 tess, since I think her insolent character deserves all the mor- 
 tifications Heaven can send her. It will be charity to send 
 me what news you pick up, which will be always shown ad- 
 vantageously by yoiu* relation. I must depend upon your 
 
 ^ See note, ante, p. 25, 
 
 h2 
 
IQO 
 
 COKRESPOKDENCE WITH 
 
 goodness for this ; since I can promise you no return from 
 hence, but the assurance that I am 
 
 Ever faithfully yours. 
 Be pleased to direct as before to Mons. Villette, as the super- 
 direction. Here are no such vanities as gilt paper, therefore 
 you miist excuse the want of it. 
 
 TO ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Chambery, Dec. 22 [1741]. 
 
 I HAVE not heard from you since I came to this place ; but 
 I tliink it very possible the letters may have miscarried : at 
 this crisis all are suspected and opened, and consequently often 
 lost. I send this by way of Geneva, and desire you would 
 direct thither for me, recommended to Monsieur Guillaume 
 Boisier. 
 
 The company here is very good and sociable ; and I Tiave 
 reason to believe the air the best in the world, if I am to form 
 a judgment of it from the health and long life of the inhabit- 
 ants. I have half a dozen friends, male and female, who are 
 all of them near or past fourscore, who look and go about as 
 if they were but forty. The provisions of all sorts are ex- 
 treme good, and the wine is, I think, the most agreeable I ever 
 tasted ; and though the ground is now covered with snow, I 
 know nobody troubled with colds, and I observed very few 
 chronical distempers. The greatest inconvenience of the 
 country is the few tolerable rides that are to be picked out, 
 the roads being all mountainous and stony ; however, I have 
 got a little horse, and sometimes ramble about after the 
 manner of the D. [Duchess] of Cleveland, which is the only 
 fashion of riding; here. 
 
 o 
 
 I am very impatient to hear from you, and hope your 
 business does not injure your health. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFEET. 
 
 Chambery, March 4, N.S. [1742]. 
 
 I KNOW not whether to condole or congratulate your lady- 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 101 
 
 sliip on the changes in England;* but whatever they are, I 
 hope they will no way turn to your disadvantage. The present 
 prospect of war in Italy hinders my return thither ; and I live 
 here in so much health and tranquillity, I am in no haste to 
 remove. I am extremely glad to hear your affairs are settled 
 to your satisfaction ; I expect Lady Sophia shall be so very 
 soon ; at least, if my correspondents are not much mistaken 
 in England, I shall have the honour of being her relation ; 
 and as I have had a loner and familiar conversation with her 
 lover, both at Rome and Genoa, I think he has a very uncom- 
 mon merit, which may deserve her uncommon beauty ;*^ which 
 I am told is the admiration of her own country, as it was that 
 of every other through which she passed. I know not whether 
 to say Sir William Leman^ was very unlucky in not dying 
 two years before he had committed a folly which will make 
 his memory ridiculous ; or very fortunate in having time given 
 him to indulge his inclination, and not time enougli to see it 
 
 O ? CD ■ 
 
 in its proper light. The Marquis of Beaufort is one of my 
 best friends here ; he speaks English as well as if he had been 
 born amongst us, and often talks to me of !Miss Jefferys.* 
 
 ' Alluding to the downfal of Sir Robert Walpole, and the change of minis- 
 try.— T. 
 
 2 This may be an allusion to Mr. Mackenzie, younger brother of Lord Bute (see 
 ante^ p. 69) ; but more probably to the young Lord Lincoln, whom Lady Mary did 
 meet at Rome and Genoa, and whose passion for Lady Sophia Fermor was at this 
 time the talk of the gossips in England. Lord Lincoln was only a distant con- 
 nexion of Lady Mary, The lovers were both remarked for personal beauty ; but 
 their courtship did not prosper. Lady Sophia was married to Lord Carteret on the 
 20th March, 1744, and Lord Lincoln shortly afterwards to Catherine Pelham. 
 Lady Sophia, it appears, was not the jilt, but the jilted. Horace Walpole quotes 
 the following epigram as made on her marriage : 
 
 " Her beauty, like the Scripture feast, 
 
 To which the invited never came, 
 
 Deprived of its intended guest, 
 
 Was given to the old and lame." 
 Lord Carteret had been a widower less than a twelvemonth, and was fifty-four years 
 of age. His young bride became stepmother to daughters at least ten or twelve 
 years older than herself. Her fate was not a happy one. She died in eighteen 
 months after her marriage, having just before given birth to a daughter. — T. 
 
 3 Sir William Leman married 18th September, 1737, Anna Maria Garetta 
 Brett, daughter of Mrs. Brett, the alleged mother of Richard Savage. This was, I 
 presume, the folly to which Lady Mary alludes : the lady had been the last mistress 
 of George 1. The ceremony of her marriage with Sir William Leman was performed 
 by a Fleet parson. Sir William died 22nd December, 1741. — T. 
 
 * This was Lady Pomfret's maiden name. — AV. 
 
102 CORKESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 The finest seat in this country belongs to him ;' it is very near 
 the town, finely furnished; and he has taken pleasure in 
 making it resemble an English house. I have dined there 
 several times. He has been married about seven years. His 
 lady is a well-bred agreeable woman ; and he has a little 
 daughter about six years old, that is an angel in face and 
 shape. She will be the greatest heiress of this province, and 
 his ambition is to marry her in England. The manners and 
 fashions of this place copy those of Paris. Here are two as- 
 ■semblies, always concluding with a good supper ; and we have 
 had baUs during the carnival, twice a week; which, though 
 neither so numerous nor magnificent as those in London, were 
 perhaps full as agreeable. After having given your ladyship 
 a sketch of this town, you may imagine I expect a return of 
 intelligence from London ; how you pass your time, and what 
 changes and chances happen amongst our acquaintance. When 
 you see Lady E. Spehnan, or Mrs. Bridgman, I should be 
 obliged to you if you told them I am still their humble 
 servant. I hope you are persuaded that I am unalterably 
 yours. 
 
 FROM MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 March 22, 1742. 
 
 Our son embarked at Harwich on the 10th, after having 
 been in England about three months. I hear he avoided 
 coming near the sharpers, and is grown a good manager of 
 his money. But his weakness is such that Mx. Gibson^ with 
 much difficulty prevailed with him to go back ; and he writ a 
 letter as if he was afraid he should come hither again unless 
 he was soon advised what to do. He declares as if he wanted 
 to be in the army, tmless something more for his advantage is 
 proposed ; and I have said to Mr. G. I will not oppose his - 
 going into the army as a volunteer, but that I believe he may 
 
 ' The marquis was a French nobleman. — T. 
 
 ^ Mr. Gibson was at this period a kind of tutor or " governor" of the son. Lady 
 Mary appears to have disliked and distrusted him, but to have been unwilling, 
 for some reason, to dispense with his services, — T. 
 
MK. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 103 
 
 take some coiu-se more to his advantage. I hear my Lord 
 Carteret,! with whom he has been more than once, speaks well 
 of his behaviour. But his obstinacy in staying here, and what 
 he writes, incUne me to think it will not be easy to persuade 
 him to follow good advice. I cannot imagine any one is so 
 Hkely as yourself to give an impartial account of him. - Under 
 this difBculty I can think of no better expedient than to advise 
 him to apply to you for leave to come to some place where you 
 may converse with him. I hope you may see him without 
 being disturbed by him. If you appoint him to be at a place 
 twenty miles or farther from that where you choose to reside, 
 and order him to go by a feigned name, you may easily reach 
 him in a post-chaise, and come back after you have passed a 
 week where he is. And this you may do more than once, to 
 make a full trial of him. And I wish he might stay within a 
 certain distance of you, till you have given me an account of 
 him, and have agreed to what is fixed between him and you. 
 
 He declares he sets his heart on being in England, but then 
 he should give me such proofs as I require, that he is able to 
 persevere in behaving himself like a reasonable man. These 
 proofs may be agreed on between you and me, and I believe I 
 shall readily agree to what you shall think right. 
 
 I think you should say nothing to him but in the most calm 
 and gentle way possible, that he may be invited to open him- 
 self to you freely. He seems, I hear, shocked at your letter, 
 in which you complained of his not regarding the truth, 
 though I believe you made no mistake in it, unless your 
 saying his marriage could not be dissolved. He knows very 
 well it may by act of parliament, which is what he means 
 when he vsrites he wants to be quit of his wife. He denies 
 that he knew Birtles to be nephew to Henshaw, who lent the 
 200?. As he is commended by several here, and by more in 
 HoUand (who perhaps flatter him), it may seem wrong to 
 speak to him with any show of warmth or anger. 
 
 I incline to think he has been made an enthusiast in Holland, 
 and you would do well to try thoroughly whether he is in good 
 
 ' Lord Carteret had just been appointed secretary of state. — T. 
 
104: .CORRESPONDENCE. WITH 
 
 earnest, and likely to continue so. If he. is, I need not jnen- 
 tion how much caution should be used in speaking to him. I 
 think, whatever his notions are, you would do well to say 
 nothing to him, but what you would say before any company. 
 
 I shall advise him by Mr. G. to go to Langres,^ or some 
 place near it, where he may wait for your answer to such 
 letter as he writes for leave to come to any place you appoint. 
 
 I shall give you fuller informations about him in a post or 
 two, if not by this. I hope this affair will not be very trouble- 
 some to you, as you can retire from him whenever you please. 
 He shall not have much more money than is sufficient to carry 
 him to you. When you have furnished him with any, it shall 
 be made good to you. 
 
 To tell you fully what I judge of him from the variety of 
 accounts I have had, I incline to think he will for the future 
 avoid thieves, and be no ill manager of his money. These, 
 you will say, are great amendments; but I believe he will 
 always appear a weak man. The single question seems to be 
 whether he will be one of those weak men that will follow the 
 advice of those who wish them well, or be governed by his 
 own fancies, or by companions that will make a prey of him. 
 In Holland he seems to have followed the advice of Captain 
 Lintslager, and other persons of good credit. I believe he 
 has been in no company here this last time but men [of] good 
 credit, and I hear he values himself upon it. I have not 
 heard so much, as I hope I shall in a week, of the opinion of 
 those who conversed with him. If you have patience to pass 
 away hours with him, you will know him better than any 
 one. 
 
 I need not recommend to you the discoursing with him fidly 
 upon his patience, and his observing his promises strictly. 
 
 Mr. Gibson says his whole dejjortment and conversation is 
 entirely different from what it was when he was here above 
 four years ago, and that he seems another man. 
 
 To give you all the light I can into him, I send you lettei's 
 writ to him by Captain Lintslager, and others. I also send. 
 
 ' Origmally in the manuscript " by Bai'-lc-Duc." — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 105 
 
 you extracts of his own letters, to show you how he has acted 
 contrary to his professions. I doubt you will find him quite 
 obstinate ^ for going into the army, unless he may be quite 
 certain of mending his circumstances some other way. He 
 may perhaps speak of promises I made him by Mr. G. ; but I 
 made none, but that I would let him know by Mr. G. what I 
 advised him to do as preferable to his going to the army. 
 What I meant was his discoursing with you, if you allowed 
 him, and his following your advice. 
 
 . That you may have the state of the case more fully, I send 
 you his letter to Mr. G., which came by the last mail, and a 
 copy of that which Mr. G. will send him to-morrow. 
 
 Mr. G. told me our son thought it hard usage that orders 
 should be given to confine him in Holland. I told Mr. G. 
 that whenever he kept much company it would be right to get 
 him confined, to prevent his going to the pillory or to the 
 gallows. 
 
 As he excuses his coming over by the uneasiness he was 
 under, I gave Mr. G. these words, viz. : 
 
 " The excuse of the uneasiness you should be under in doing 
 right, is the same excuse which is constantly used by all mur- 
 derers and robbers, and seems to have been taught you by the 
 infamous company by which you were influenced when you 
 was here above four years ago." 
 
 Mr. G. said these words were too strong for liim to write, 
 and he changed, them for a paragraph of his own, by which 
 he says he means the same thing. He agreed it would be 
 quite right in you to use these strong words; but you may do 
 it in a gentle way. 
 
 He may have more cunning than is imagined to gain his 
 points, and perhaps is not made uneasy by being abroad, and 
 may have little or no inclination to go into the army, but 
 thinks, to prevent it, I may give him some considerable advaai 
 tage. If you seem not at all averse to his going, perhaps he 
 will of himself quit that scheme, and go into some other that 
 you may like better. 
 
 If you think it best he should make a campaign, you will 
 
106 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 take care not to detain him too long. Perhaps you may re- 
 commend him to our minister at Turin, that he may serve in 
 the Sardinian forces, where, if he should do wrong, it wUl be 
 less known than if he did it in Flanders. 
 
 Perhaps, hy another name, he might meet you unobserved 
 at Lyons, or Pont Beau-Voisin. I need not mention that 
 whatever money you put into his hands shall be repaid you 
 at demand. If he goes back to Holland, I suppose 201. is 
 enough for his charges. 
 
 I have yours of the 24th February. Lord and Lady Bute 
 seem to Hve well together. They lost their son (who was 
 above a year old) on the 16th; he had fits and a fever. The 
 surgeons say his brains were too large, and occasioned the fits. 
 They are both retired to Richmond for ten days or a fort- 
 night. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Lyons, April, 23, N.S. [1742]. 
 
 I HAVE this minute received four letters from you, dated 
 February 1, February 22, March 22, March 29. I fancy their 
 lying so long in the post-ofHces may proceed from your for- 
 getting to frank them, which I am informed is quite neces- 
 sary. I am very glad you have been prevailed on to let our 
 son take a commission : if you had prevented it, he would 
 have always said, and perhaps thought, and persuaded other 
 people, you had hindered his rising in the world ; though I 
 am fully persuaded that he can never make a tolerable figure 
 in any station of life. When he was at Morins, on his first 
 leaving France, I then tried to prevail with him to serve the 
 Emperor as volunteer ; and represented to him that a hand- 
 some behaviour one campaign might go a great way in re- 
 trieving his character; and offered to use my interest with 
 you (which I said I did not doubt would succeed) to furnish 
 him with a handsome equipage. He then answered, he sup- 
 posed I wished him killed out of the way. I am afraid his 
 pretended reformation is not veiy sincere. I wish time may 
 prove me in the wrong. I here enclose the last letter I re- 
 
MR. YCORTLEY MONTAGU ANb OTHERS. 107 
 
 ceived from him ; I answered it the following post in these 
 words : 
 
 " I am very glad you resolve to continue obedient to your 
 father, and are sensible of his goodness towards you. Mr. 
 Birtles showed me your letter to him, in which you enclosed 
 yours to me, where you speak to him as your friend ; sub- 
 scribing yourself his faithful humble servant. He was at 
 Genoa in his uncle's house when you was there, and well ac- 
 quainted with you ; though you seem ignorant of everything 
 relating to him. I wish you would make such sort of apolo- 
 gies for any errors you may commit. I pray God your future 
 behaviour may redeem the past, which will be a great blessing 
 to your affectionate mother." 
 
 I have not since heard from him ; I suppose he knew not 
 what to say to so plain a detected falsehood. It is very dis- 
 agreeable to me to converse -ivith one from whom I do not 
 expect to hear a word of truth, and who, I am very sure, wiU 
 repeat many things that never passed in our conversation. 
 You see the most solemn assurances are not binding from him, 
 since he could come to London in opposition to your com- 
 mands, after having so frequently protested he would not 
 move a step except by your order. However, as you insist on 
 my seeing him, I will do it, and think Valence the properest 
 town for that intei'view ; it is but two days' journey from this 
 place ; it is in Dauphin^. I arrived here Friday night, having 
 left Chambery on the report of the French designing to come 
 soon thither. So far is certain, that the governor had given 
 command for repairing the walls, &c. ; on which men were 
 actually employed when I came aWay. But the court of Turin 
 is so politic and mysterious, it is hard to judge ; and I am apt 
 to believe their designs change according to circumstances. 
 
 I shall stay here till I have an answer to this letter. If you 
 order your son to go to Valence, I desire you would give him 
 a strict command of going by a feigned name. I do not 
 doubt your returning me whatever money I may give him ; 
 but as I believe, if he receives money from me, he will be 
 making me frequent visits, it is clearly my opinion I should 
 
108 COltRESPONDENCE WITH : 
 
 give him none. Whatever you may think proper for his 
 jom-ney, you may remit to him. 
 
 . I am very sorry for my daughter's loss, being sensible how 
 much it may affect her, though I suppose it •will be soon re- 
 paired. It is a great pleasure to me v^^hen I hear she is happy. 
 I wrote to her last post, and will write again the next. 
 
 Since I wrote, I have looked everywhere for my son's letter, 
 which I find has been mislaid in the journey. There is no- 
 thing more in it, than long professions of doing nothing but 
 by your command ; and a positive assertion that he was igno- 
 rant of Mr. Birtles's relation to the late consul. 
 
 Direct your next, " Eecommand6 k M. Imbert, Banquier, a 
 Lyons." 
 
 TO ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Lyons, AprU 25, N.S. [1742]. 
 
 On recollection (however inconvenient it may be to me on 
 many accounts), I am not sorry to converse with my son. I 
 shall at least have the satisfaction of making a clear judgment 
 of his behaviour and temper : which I shall deliver to you in 
 the most sincere and unprejudiced manner. You need not 
 apprehend that I shall speak to him in passion. I do not 
 know that I ever did in my life. I am not apt to be over- 
 heated in discourse, and am so far prepared, even for the worst 
 on his side, that I think nothing he can say can alter the re- 
 solution I have taken of treating him with calmness. Both 
 natm'e and interest (were I inclined to follow blindly the dic- 
 tates of either) would determine me to wish him your heir 
 rather than a stranger; but I think myself obhged both by 
 honour, conscience, and my regard for you, no way to deceive 
 you ; and I confess, hitherto I see nothing but falsehood and 
 weakness through his whole conduct. It is possible his person 
 may be altered since I saw him, but his figure then was very' 
 agreeable and his manner insinuating. I very well remember 
 the professions he made to me, and do not doubt he is as lavish 
 of them to other people. Perhaps Lord C. [Carteret] may 
 think him no ill match for an ugly girl that sticks upon his 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 109 
 
 Jiands.^ The project of breaking his marriage shows at least 
 his devotion counterfeit, since I am sensible it cannot be done 
 but by false witness. His wife is not young enough to get 
 gallants, nor rich enough to buy them. 
 
 I make choice of Valence for our interview as a town where 
 we are not likely to find any English, and he may if he pleases 
 be quite unknown ;""which it is hardly possible to be in any 
 capital town either of France or Italy. Here are many English 
 of the trading sort of people, who are more likely to be inqui- 
 sitive and talkative than any other. Near Chamtery there is 
 a little colony of English, who have undertaken the working 
 of the mines in Savoy ; in which they find very pure silver, 
 of which I have seen several cakes of about eighty ounces 
 each. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Lyons, May 2, N.S. [1742]. 
 
 I RECEIVED this morning yours of April 12, and at the 
 same time the enclosed which I send you. 'Tis the first I 
 have received since the detection of that falsehood in regard 
 to Mr. Birtles. I always sent my letters open, that Mr. 
 Cliiford (who has the character of sense and honesty) might 
 be witness of what I said ; and he not left at liberty to forge 
 orders he never received. I am very glad I have done so, and 
 am persuaded that had his reformation been what you suppose 
 it, Mr. Clifford would have wrote to me in his favour. 1 
 confess I see no appearance of it. His last letter to you, and 
 this to me, seems to be no more in that submissive style he has 
 used, but like one that thinks himself well protected. I will 
 see him, since you desire it, at Valence ; which is a by-tcwn, 
 where I am less likely to meet with English than in any town 
 in France ; but I insist on his going by a feigned name, and 
 coming without a servant. People of superior fortunes to him 
 (to my knowledge) have often travelled from Paris to Lyons 
 
 ' Lady Frances, youngest dangliter of Lord Carteret. She had the good for- 
 tune to escape this " no ill match." She married twelve months later the Marquis 
 of Tweeddale.— T. 
 
110 COERESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 in the diligence; the expense is but one hundred livres, bl. 
 sterling, all things paid. It would not be easy to me, at this 
 time, to send him any considerable sum ; and whatever it is, I 
 am persuaded, coming from me, he would not be satisfied with 
 it, and make his complaints to his companions. As to the 
 alteration of his temper, I see the same folly throughout. He 
 now supposes (which is at best downright childish) that one 
 hour's conversation will convince me of his sincerity. I have 
 not answered his letter, nor will not, till I have your orders 
 what to say to him. Be pleased to direct, " Kecommand^ k 
 Mons. Imbert, Banquier, k Lyons." I received his letter 
 to-day. 
 
 TO ME. WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 [Avignon] May 6, N.S. [1742]. 
 
 I HERE send you enclosed the letter I mentioned of your 
 son's ; the packet in which it was put was mislaid in the 
 journey; it will serve to show you how little he is to be 
 depended on. I saw a Savoyard man of quaUty at Ohambery, 
 who knew him at Venice, and afterwards at Genoa, who 
 asked me (not suspecting him for my son) if he was related to 
 my family. I made answer he was some relation. He told 
 me several tricks of his. He said, that at Genoa he had 
 told him that an uncle of his was dead, and had left him 5000?. 
 or 6000Z. per annum, and that he was returning to England 
 to take possession of his estate ; in the mean time he wanted 
 money ; and would have borrowed some of him, which he re- 
 fused. I made answer that he did very well. I have heard 
 of this sort of conduct in other places ; and by the Dutch 
 letters you have sent me I am persuaded he continues the 
 same method of lying ; which convinces me that his pretended 
 enthusiasm is only to cheat those that can be imposed on by it. 
 However, I think he should not be hindered accepting a com- 
 mission. I do not doubt it will be pawned or sold in a twelve- 
 month ; which will prove to those that now protect him how 
 little he deserves it. I am now at Avignon, which is within 
 one day's journey of Valence. I left Lyons last Thursday, 
 but I have taken care that whatever letters come tliither shall 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. Ill 
 
 oe sent to me. I came to this place, not finding myself well 
 at Lyons. I thought the change of air would be of service to 
 my health, and find I was not mistaken. All the road is filled 
 with French troops, who expect orders to march into the K. of 
 Sardinia's dominions. 
 
 I am in great pain for my daughter's situation, fearing that 
 the loss of her son may have some ill effect in her present 
 condition. I beg you would let me know the minute she is 
 brought to bed. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Avignon, May 23, N.S. [1742]. 
 
 I RECEIVED this morning yoiu-s of April 12 and 29th, and 
 at the same time one from my son at Paris, dated the 4th 
 instant. I have wrote to him this day, that on his answer I 
 will immediately set out to Valence, and shall be glad to see 
 him there. I suppose you are now convinced I have never 
 been mistaken in his character; which remains unchanged, 
 and what is yet worse, I think is unchangeable. I never saw 
 such a complication of folly and falsity as in his letter to Mr. 
 G. [Gibson]. Nothing is cheaper than living in an inn 
 in a country town in France ; they being obliged to ask 
 no more than twenty-five sous for dinner, and thirty for 
 supper and lodging, of those that eat at the pubUc table ; 
 which all the young men of quality I have met have 
 always done. It is true I am forced to pay double, be- 
 cause I think the decency t)f my sex confines me to eat in 
 my chamber. I will not trouble you with detecting a number 
 of other falsehoods that are in his letters. My opinion on the 
 whole (since you give me leave to tell it) is, that if I was to 
 speak in your place, I would tell him, " That since he is obsti- 
 nate in going into the army, I will not oppose it ; but as 1 do 
 not approve, I will advance no equipage till I know his beha- 
 viour to be such as shall deserve my future favour. Hitherto 
 he has always been directed, either by his own humour, or the 
 advice of those he thought better friends to him than myself- 
 If he renounces the army, I will continue to him his former 
 allowance ; notwithstanding his repeated disobedience, under 
 
112 , CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 the most solemn professions of duty. When I see hun act 
 Hke a sincere h(5nest man, I shall believe well of him ; the 
 opinion of others, who either do hot know him or are imposed 
 on by his pretences, weighs nothing with me." 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Avignon, May 30, N.S. [1742]. 
 
 I RECEIVED this day yours of May 3rd. I have wrote to 
 let my son know I am ready to meet him at Valence, on the 
 first notice of his setting out. I think it very improbable that 
 Lord St. [Stair] should make him any such promise as he told 
 Mr, Anderson,! or even give him hopes of it. If he had any 
 right notions, Paris is the last place he would have appeared 
 in ; since I know he owes Knight money, and perhaps many 
 other people. I am very glad of my daughter's health, and 
 hope you enjoy yours. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMERET. 
 
 Avignon, June 1, N.S. [1742]. 
 
 I HAVE changed my situation, fearing to find myself 
 blocked up in a besieged town ; and not Itnowing where else 
 to avoid the terrors of war, I have put myself under the pro- 
 tection of the Holy See. Your ladyship being well acquainted 
 with this place, I need not send you a description of it ; but I 
 think you did not stay in it long enough to know many of the 
 people. I find them very polite and obliging to strangers. 
 We have assemblies every night, which conclude with a great 
 supper ; and comedies which are tolerably well acted. In 
 short, I think one may while away an idle life with great 
 tranquillity : which has long since been the utmost of my am^ 
 bition. 
 
 I never was more surprised than at the death of the Duchess 
 ■of Cleveland;^ I thought her discretion and constitution made 
 to last at least as long as her father's. I beg you to let me 
 
 ' Mr. Anderson was for some time tutor to Lady Mary's son. Lady Mary had 
 great confidence in his integrity and good sense. — T. 
 
 ''■ The Duchess was a daughter of Daniel Finch, Earl of Nottingham. She 
 died in April, 1742.— T. 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 113 
 
 know what accident has destroyed that fine figure which 
 seemed built to last an age. You are very unjust to me in 
 regard to the Marquis of Beaufort ; he is too much an Eng- 
 lishman not to be inquisitive after the news of London. 
 There has passed nothing there since he left it that he has not 
 been informed of. Lord Lempster can tell you that before I 
 came to Turin he had mentioned to him that he had had the 
 honour of seeing his mother. He removed from Chambery 
 with his whole family about the same time I left it ; and for 
 the same reason they passed into Italy; and if Piedmont 
 proves the theatre of war,i intend to refuge themselves at 
 Lucca. I am much mortified that I can have no opportunity 
 of giving him so great a pleasure as I know your compliment 
 would be ; his civilities to me deserving all possible gratitude. 
 His daughter is but seven years old, a little angel both in face 
 and shape. A propos of angels, I am astonished Lady Sophia 
 does not condescend to leave some cojiies of her face for the 
 benefit of posterity ; 'tis quite impossible she should not com- 
 mand what matches she pleases, when such pugs as Miss 
 Hamilton^ can become peeresses ; and I am still of opinion 
 that it depended on her to be my relation. 
 
 Here are several English ladies established, none I ever saw 
 before ; but they behave with decency, and give a good im- 
 pression of our conduct, though their pale complexions and 
 stiff stays do not give the French any inclination to imitate 
 our dress. 
 
 Notvnthstanding the dulness of this letter, I have so much 
 confidence in your ladyship's charity, I flatter myself you will 
 be so good as to answer it. I beg you would direct to me, 
 " Recommande k Monsieur Imbert, Banquier, a Lyons ;" he 
 wiU take care to forward it to, dear madam. 
 
 Your faithful humble servant. 
 
 ' Hostilities were now commencing between the Spaniards and the Sar- 
 dinians. — T. 
 
 2 Miss Hamilton, daughter of Lord Archibald Hamilton, married [in May, 1742] 
 Earl Brooke, afterwards created Earl of Warwick : she was very little. — W. 
 
 VOL. II. I 
 
114: COEEESPONDENCE "WITH 
 
 TO ME. WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Avignon, June 10, N.S. [1742]. 
 
 I AM just returned from passing two days with our son, of 
 ■whom I will give you the most exact account I am capable of. 
 He is so much altered in his person, I should scarcely have 
 known him. He has entirely lost his beauty, and looks at 
 least seven years older than he is ; and the wildness that he 
 always had in his eyes is so much increased it is downright 
 shocking, and I am afraid will end fatally. He is grown fat, 
 but is still genteel, and has an air of politeness that is agree- 
 able. He speaks French like a Frenchman, and has got all 
 the fashionable expressions of that language, and a volubility 
 of words which he always had, and which I do not wonder 
 should pass for wit with inconsiderate people. His behaviour 
 is perfectly civil, and I found him very submissive ; but in the 
 main, no way really improved in his understanding, which is 
 exceedingly weak ; and I am convinced he will always be led 
 by the person he converses with either right or wrong, not 
 being capable of forming any fixed judgment of his own. As 
 to his enthusiasm, if he had it, I suppose he has akeady lost 
 it ; since I could perceive no turn of it in all his conversation. 
 But with his head I believe it is possible to make him a monk 
 one day and a Tm-k' three days after. He has a flattering, 
 insinuating manner, which naturally prejudices strangers in 
 his favour. He began to talk to me in the usual silly cant I 
 have so often heard from him, which I shortened by telling 
 him I desired not to be troubled with it ; that professions were 
 of no use where actions were expected ; and that the only 
 thing could give me hopes of a good conduct was regularity 
 and truth. He very readily agreed to all I said (as indeed he 
 has always done when he has not been hot-headed). I en- 
 deavoured to convince him how favourably he has been dealt 
 with, his allowance being much more than, had I been his 
 father, I would have given in the same case. The Prince of 
 
 ' This estimate of her son was curiously confirmed by his subsequently adopting 
 the Turliish costiime and manner of life. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 115 
 
 Hesse, who is now married to the Princess of England, lived 
 some years at Geneva on 3001. per annum. Lord Hervey' 
 sent his son at sixteen thither, and to travel afterwards, on no 
 larger pension than 200?. ; and, though without a governor, 
 he had reason enough, not only to live within the compass of 
 it, but carried home little presents for his father and mother, 
 which he showed me at Turin. In short, I know there is no 
 place so expensive, but a prudent single man may live in it on 
 100/. per annum, and an extravagant one may run out ten 
 thousand in the cheapest. Had you (said I to him) thought 
 rightly, or would have regarded the advice I gave you in all 
 my letters, while in the little town of Islestein, you would 
 have laid up 150/. per annum ; you would now have had 750/. 
 in your pocket ; which would have almost paid your debts, 
 and such a management would have gained you the esteem of 
 the reasonable part of mankind. I perceived this reflection,, 
 which he had never made himself, had a very great weight 
 with him. He would have excused part of his follies, by say- 
 ing Mr. G. had told him it became Mr. W.'s son to live hand- 
 somely. I made answer, that whether Mr. G. had said so or 
 no, the good sense of the thing was noway altered by it ; that 
 the true figure of a man was the opinion the world had of his 
 sense and probity, and not the idle expenses, which were only 
 respected by foolish or ignorant people ; that his case was par- 
 ticular, he had but too publicly shown his inclination to vani- 
 ties, and the most becoming part he could now act would be 
 owning the ill use he had niade of his father's indulgence, and 
 professing to endeavour to be no further expense to him, 
 instead of scandalous complaints, and being always at his last 
 shirt and last guinea, which any man of spirit would be 
 ashamed to own. I prevailed so far with him that he seemed 
 very willing to follow this advice ; and I gave him a para- 
 graph to write to G., which I suppose you will easily distin- 
 guish from the rest of his letter. He asked me if you had 
 settled your estate. I made answer, that I did not doubt 
 
 > John Lord Hervey, Lady Mary's friend, and the husband of Mary Lepell. — T. 
 
 i2 
 
116 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 (like all other wise men) you always had a will by you ; but 
 that you had certainly not put anything out of your power 
 to change. On that, he began to insinuate, that if I coxdd 
 prevail on you to settle the estate on him, I might expect 
 anything from his gratitude. I made him a very clear and 
 positive answer in these words : " I hope your father will out- 
 live me, and if I should be so unfortunate to have it otherwise, 
 I do not believe he will leave me in your power. But was I 
 sure of the contrary, no interest nor no necessity shall ever 
 make me act against my honour or conscience ; and I plainly 
 tell you, that I will never persuade your father to do anything 
 for you till I think you deserve it." He answered by great 
 promises of future good behaviour, and economy. He is 
 highly delighted with the prospect of going into the army ; 
 and mightily pleased with the good reception he had from 
 Lord St. [Stair] ; though I find it amounts to no more than 
 telling him he was sorry he had already named his aides-de- 
 camp, and otherwise should have been glad of him in that 
 post. He says Lord C. [Carteret] has confirmed to him his 
 promise of a commission. 
 
 The rest of his conversation was extremely gay. The 
 various things he has seen has given him a superficial univer- 
 sal knowledge. He really knows most of the modern lan- 
 guages, and if I could believe him, can read Arabic, and has 
 read the Bible in Hebrew. He said it w^as impossible for him 
 to avoid going back to Paris ; but he promised me to lie but 
 one night there, and go to a town six posts from thence on 
 the Flanders road, where he would wait your orders, and go 
 by the name of Mons. du Durand, a Dutch officer ; under 
 which name I saw him. These are the most material pas- 
 sages, and my eyes are so much tired I can write no more at 
 this time. I gave him 240 livres for liis journey. 
 
MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 117 
 
 TO MR. WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 Avignon, July 19, N.S. [1742]. 
 
 I WAS very glad to observe in yours of June 21st (which I 
 received this morning), that everything you think proper to be 
 said to our son I have already said to him in the most pressing 
 manner I was able. I am very willing to repeat it over again 
 in my letters to him as soon as I know where to direct. I 
 never heard from him since we parted, though he promised 
 over and over to write from Paris. 
 
 All the English without distinction see the D. [Duke] of 
 Ormorid :' Lord Chesterfield^ (who you know is related to 
 him) lay at his house during his stay in this town ; and to say 
 truth, nothing can be more insignificant. He keeps an assem- 
 bly where all the best company go twice in the week : I have 
 been there sometimes, nor is it possible to avoid it while I stay 
 here ; I came hither not knowing where else to be secure, 
 there being, at that time, strong appearances of an approach- 
 ing rupture with France, and all Italy being in a flame. The 
 D. [Duke] lives here in great magnificence, is quite inoffen- 
 sive, and seems to have forgot every part of his past life, and 
 to be of no party ; and indeed this is perhaps the town in the 
 whole world where politics are the least talked of. 
 
 I receive this minute a letter from our son, dated from 
 Senlis. He says you have ordered him to return. I know 
 not whether he means to England or Holland, neither does he 
 give any direction to write to him. As soon as I have one, I 
 will not fail to do it. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFRET. 
 
 Avignon, Nov. 4, N.S. [1742]. 
 
 I AM very much obliged to your ladyship for judging so 
 rightly both of my taste and inclinations as to think it impos- 
 
 * The Duke of Ormond resided many years in Avignon. — T. 
 
 ^ Lord Chesterfield was not, properly speaking, related to the Duke of Ormond. 
 Lady Elizabeth Butler, daughter to James Duke of Ormond, was the second wife 
 of Lord Chesterfield's grandfather, Philip the second Earl of Chesterfield ; but by 
 her he had no children that survived, except a daughter married to the fourth 
 Earl of Strathmore. Lord Chesterfield was the grandson of the third wife. Lady 
 Elizabeth Dormer, daughter of Charles Earl of Carnarvon. — W. 
 
118 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 sible I should leave a letter of yours unanswered. I never 
 received that which you mention ; and I am not surprised at 
 it, since I have lost several others, and all for the same reason ; 
 I mean mentioning political transactions; and 'tis the best 
 proof of wisdom that I know of our reigning ministers, that 
 they will not suffer their fame to travel into foreign lands ; 
 neither have I any curiosity for their proceedings ; being long 
 ago persuaded of the truth of that histori-prophetical verse, 
 which says, 
 
 " The world will still be ruled by knaves 
 And fools, contending to be slaves." 
 
 I desire no other intelligence from my friends but tea-table 
 chat, which has been allowed to our sex by so long a prescrip- 
 tion. I believe no lady will dispute it at present. I am very 
 much diverted with her grace's passion, which is, perhaps, ex- 
 cited by her devotion ; being piously designed to take a strayed 
 young man out of the hands of a wicked woman. I wish it 
 may end as those projects often do, in making him equally 
 despise both, and take a bride as charming as Lady Sophia ; 
 who, I am glad, has had a legacy from Mrs. Bridgeman, 
 though I could have wished it had been more important. I 
 hear the Duke of Cleveland will be happily disposed of to 
 Miss Gage ;^ who, I do not doubt, will furnish his family with 
 a long posterity, or I have no skill in airs and graces. This 
 place affords us no news worth telling. I suppose you know 
 Lady Walpole has been near dying ; and that Mrs. Golds- 
 worthy being detected en flagrant dilit, is sent back to Eng- 
 land with her children ;2 some of which, I hear, he disowns. I 
 think her case not unhke Lady Abergavenny's f her loving 
 
 * No such marriage took place. — T. 
 
 ' See note, ante, p. 96. — T. 
 
 ' Catherine, daughter of Lieutenant-General Talton. Lady Abergavenny's case 
 created much sensation, and was scarcely less celebrated than the '* misfortune" of 
 Sophia Howe. She was detected in an intrigue with Richard Liddel, Esq., " her 
 lord's intimate friend," in November, 1729. The newspapers say "she was sent 
 up the same day to London ; where she died in December, about a fortnight after 
 her delivery of a son, who died in the January following. Mr. L — 1, to avoid pay- 
 ing the 10,000/. damages, fled beyond sea." Her matrimonial adventures were 
 otherwise sufficiently remarkable. Her first husband, the thirteenth Lord Aber- 
 gavenny, died in his nineteenth year, leaving no issue ; and she thereupon mar- 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 119 
 
 spouse being very well content with her gallantries while he 
 found his account in them, but raging against those that 
 brought him no profit. Be pleased to direct your next to 
 Avignon, and I believe it will come safe to your ladyship's 
 
 Faithful humble servant. 
 
 TO ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 AprU 24 [1743]. 
 
 I RECEIVED yesterday yours of March 24th. I am clearly 
 of your opinion touching the distemper that has reigned all 
 over Europe. The progress of it convinced me long since that 
 it has been entirely owing to infection, and they say begun in 
 Prague. Mr. Boswell [sic] and his lady,' Sir Wilham Went- 
 worth's daughter, arrived here two days ago. I invited them 
 to dinner, and have shown them all the civilities in my power. 
 They desire their compliments to you. She is a pretty, 
 agreeable young woman. The Duke of Berwick passed here 
 last week, and many other Spanish officers. As to what 
 regards my son, I have long since fixed my opinion concerning 
 him. Indeed, I am not insensible of the misfortune, but I 
 look upon it as on the loss of a hmb, which ceases to give so- 
 licitude by being irretrievable. 
 
 ried his cousin and successor. Tiie Grub-street Journal inserted upon her death 
 the following " Character of the Lady A — y :" 
 
 " Young, thoughtless, gay, unfortunately fair, 
 
 Her pride to please, and dressing all her care. 
 
 With too much kindness, and too little art. 
 
 Prone to indulge the dictates of the heart ; 
 
 Flattered, caressed, solicited, admired ; 
 
 Hy women envied, and by men desired ; 
 
 At once from ease, from wealth, from honour torn, 
 
 She fell exposed to pain, to want, to scorn. 
 
 But when her sad disastrous tale is told 
 
 To the gay, young, as lecture, by the old, 
 
 Let both to kind compassion moved, bemoan 
 
 Her sudden ruin while her fault they own. 
 
 And say that when by lawless love betrayed. 
 
 From the right path of innocence she strayed. 
 
 She could not long, depressed by guilt and shame, 
 
 Survive the death of virtue and of fame." ' 
 
 The lines were attributed to the Duke of Dorset. — T. 
 
 1 Diana, daughter of Sir William Wentworth of Bratton, county of York. She 
 married Godfrey Bosvllle, Esq., of Gunthwaite. — T. 
 
120 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Avignon, June 1, N.S. [1743]. 
 
 I HOPE you will take care not to return to London while it 
 is in this unhealthy state. We are now very clear in these 
 parts. Mrs. Bosville is gone to Turin, where they intend to 
 reside ; she had the good fortune to meet an English man-of- 
 war on the coast, without which she would have found the 
 passage very difficult. She had so much her journey at heart, 
 that she undertook to ride over the mountains from Nissa to 
 Savona, but I believe (notwithstanding her youth and spirit) 
 would have found the execution impossible. She has chosen 
 the most agreeable court in Europe, where the English are 
 extremely caressed. But it is necessary to be young and gay 
 for such projects. All mine terminate in qmet ; and if I can 
 end my days without great pains, it is the utmost of my 
 ambition. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 [Oct. 18, N.S., 1743.] 
 
 I RECEIVED yours of September 21st, O.S., this day, 
 October 18th, N.S., and am always glad to hear of your 
 health. I can never be surprised at any sort of folly or ex- 
 travagance of my son. Immediately on leaving me at Orange, 
 after the most solenrn promises of reformation, he went to 
 MonteHmart, which is but one day's post from thence, where 
 he behaved himself with as much vanity and indiscretion as 
 ever. I had my intelligence from people who did not know 
 my relation to him ; and I do not trouble you with the par- 
 ticulars, thinking it needless to expose his character to you, 
 who are well acquainted with it. I am persuaded whoever 
 protects him will be very soon convinced of the impossibility 
 of his behaving hke a rational creatm-e. 
 
 I know the young Lady CarUsle ;' she is very agreeable ; 
 
 * The first wife of Lord Carlisle died in 1742. He married secondly, in June, 
 1743, Isabel, daughter of Lord Byron. She will be found included in Park's edi- 
 tion of Horace Walpole's Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors (iv. 363) ; her 
 claim to that distinction being founded on a poem entitled " The Fairy Answer to 
 Mrs. Greville's Prayer for Indifference," written by her, and a volume " On the 
 Education of Daughters," of which she was the reputed author. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 121 
 
 but if I am not mistaken in her inclinations, they are very- 
 gay. Lady Oxford wrote to me last post that L. Strafford 
 was then with her ; she informs me that the Duke of Argyll' 
 is in a very bad state of health. I hope you will take care to 
 preserve yours. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Avignon, Nov. 20, N.S. [1743]. 
 
 I HAVE just received yours of October 24th, O.S., and am 
 always very glad to hear of the continuation of your health. 
 As to my son's behaviour at Montelimart, it is nothing more 
 than a proof of his weakness ; and how little he is to be de- 
 pended on in his most solemn professions. He told me that 
 he had made acquaintance with a lady on the road, who has 
 an assembly at her house at Montelimart, and that she had in- 
 vited him thither. I asked immediately if she knew his name. 
 He assured me no, and that he passed for a Dutch officer by 
 the name of Durand. I advised him not to go thither, since 
 it would raise a curiosity concerning him, and I was very un- 
 willing it should be known that I had conversed with him, on 
 many accounts. He gave me the most solemn assurances that 
 no mortal should know it ; and agreed wdth me in the reasons 
 I gave him for keeping it an entire secret ; yet rid straight to 
 MonteUmart, where he told at the assembly that he came into 
 this country purely on my orders, and that I had stayed with 
 him two days at Orange ; talking much of my kindness to 
 him, and insinuating that he had another name, much more 
 considerable than that he appeared with. I knew nothing of 
 this, till several months after, that a lady of that country 
 came hither, and meeting her in company, she asked me if I 
 was acquainted with Monsieur Durand. I had reaUy forgot 
 he had ever taken that name, and made answer no ; and that 
 if such a person mentioned me, it was probably some chevalier 
 d'industrie who sought to introduce himself into company by 
 a supposed acquaintance with me. She made answer, the 
 
 ' The Duke of Argyll was the father-in-law of Lord Strafford. — T. 
 
122 COEKESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 whole town believed so, by the improbable tales he told them ; 
 and informed me what he had said ; by which I knew what 
 I have related to you. 
 
 I expect your orders in relation to his letters. 
 
 TO MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Avignon, Dec. 20, N.S. [1743]. 
 
 I EECEIVED yours of the 24th of November, O.S., yester- 
 day. I send you the enclosed for my son, not knowing where 
 to direct to him. I have endeavoured to write it according to 
 your minutes, which are entirely just and reasonable. You, 
 may, perhaps, hear of a trifle which makes a great noise in 
 this part of the world, which is, that I am building ; but the 
 whole expense which I have contracted for is but twenty-six 
 pounds sterling. You know the situation of this town is on 
 the meeting of the Rhone and Durance. On one side of it, 
 within the walls, was formerly a fortress built on a very high 
 rock ; they say it was destroyed by lightning : one of the 
 towers was left part standing, the walls being a yard in thick- 
 ness : this was made use of some time for a public mill, but 
 the height making it inconvenient for the carriage of meal, it 
 has stood useless many years. Last summer, in the hot even- 
 ings, I walked often thither, where I always found a fresh 
 breeze, and the most beautiful land-prospect I ever saw (ex- 
 cept Wharncliffe) ; being a view of the windings of two great 
 rivers, and overlooking the whole country, with part of Lan- 
 guedoc and Provence. I was so much charmed with it, that 
 I said in company, that, if that old mill was mine, I would 
 turn it into a belvidere ; my words were repeated, and the two 
 consuls waited on me soon after, with a donation from the 
 town of the mill and the land about it : I have added a dome 
 to it, and made it a little rotunda for the 'foresaid sum. I 
 have also amused iftyself with patchuig up an inscription, 
 which I have communicated to the archbishop, who is much 
 delighted with it ; but it is not placed, and perhaps never 
 shall be. 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 123 
 
 ' " Hie, O viator! sub Lare parvulo, 
 Maria hie est Condita, hie jacet, 
 Defuncta humani laboris 
 Sorts, supervacuaque vitD. 
 Non indecorS, pauperies [sicj nitens, 
 Et non inerti nobilis otio, 
 Vanoque dileetis popello 
 Divitiis animosus hostis, 
 Possis ut illaiu dicere mortuam. 
 En terra jam nunc quantula sufiicit ! 
 Exempta sit curis, viator. 
 Terra sit ilia levis, precare ! 
 Hie sparge Acres, sparge breves rosas : 
 Nam vita gaudet mortua floribus : 
 
 Herbisque odoratjs corona 
 
 Vatis adbue cinerem calentem." 
 
 You will know how I picked up these verses, though the 
 archbishop did not. 
 
 TO MRS. F0RSTER.2 
 
 [Avignou.3 
 
 Dear Madam, — I received yours with great pleasure, but 
 a pleasure that is embittered (as most pleasures are) with some 
 melancholy reflections. I cannot help thinking it a great 
 cruelty of Fortune, that different circumstances should oblige 
 me to live at such a distance from the woman in the world (I 
 speak it from my heart) that I most wish to pass my life with. 
 Your temper, your character, and conversation, are so in- 
 finitely to my taste, that I never can meet with anything to 
 supply the loss of you. I had a letter from poor Morel two 
 posts ago, who says he has sought you, but found you not. 
 I agree with you, that his gentleness (and I believe that of all 
 his species) approaches to insipidity. But is it not preferable 
 to the mischievous vivacity of a great part of mankind? I 
 look upon passions to be the root of all evil, and, in my opinion, 
 we ought to search after such objects as can neither feel nor 
 inspire them. If you were to see this town, you would think 
 
 ' Lady Mary had the merit of applying Cowley's " Epitaphium vivi auctoris," 
 published in his Works, of which this is a copy, with grammatical alterations 
 where necessary. — D. Mr. Dallaway does not appear to have observed that 
 Lady Mary, in making her grammatical alteration, has, as Mr. Bowles remarks, 
 injured the metre of Cowley's lines. — T. 
 
 2 From the Gentleman's Magazine for December, 1795. I have not found any 
 other trace of Mrs. Forster. — T. 
 
124 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 I am very happily placed on this scheme, and it is true here is 
 nobody capable of pleasing ; but, on the other hand, here is a 
 perpetual round of impertinence ; and I find myself as im- 
 properly lodged as if I inhabited a volery : the chattering of 
 magpies, repetitions of parrots, and screaming of peacocks, 
 are what I am ever entertained with, and it is as absurd to 
 endeavour to reason with any of the people here as with the 
 animals I have mentioned. My hbrary is my sole resource. 
 I should desire no other if I could talk with a friend like you, 
 improving my reflections by communicating my own, but that 
 is a blessing not to be for 
 
 Your faithful humble servant. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Avignon, Jan. 12, N.S. [1744]. 
 
 I HAVE received yours of the 22nd December, half an hour 
 ago. I always answer your letters the same post I receive 
 them, if they come early enough to permit it ; if not, the post 
 following. I am much mortified you have not received two I 
 have wrote, and in the last a letter enclosed for my son. I 
 cannot help being very much concerned at the continual 
 trouble he is to you, though I have no reason to expect better 
 from him. I am persuaded the flattery of Gr. [Gibson] does 
 him a great deal of harm. I know G.'s way of thinking 
 enough, not to depend on anything he says to his advantage ; 
 much less on any account he gives of himself. I think 'tis an 
 ill sign that you have had no letter from Sir J. Cope' con- 
 cerning him. I do not doubt he would be glad to commend 
 his conduct if there was any room for it. It is my opinion he 
 should have no distinction, in equipage, from any other comet; 
 and everything of that sort will only serve to blow his vanity, 
 and consequently heighten his folly. Your indulgence has 
 always been greater to him than any other parent's would have 
 been in the same circumstances. I have always said so, and 
 
 ' Soon afterwards well known from hia defeat by the Highlanders, for which he 
 was tried by court-martial and acquitted. Sir John was at this time with the 
 army in Flanders. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 125 
 
 thought SO. If anything can alter him, it will be thinking 
 firmly that he has no dependence but on his own conduct for 
 a future maintenance. 
 
 TO MK. "WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Avignon, Feb. 17, N.S. [1744]. 
 
 I AM Sony you have given yourself so much trouble about 
 the inscription. I find I expressed myself ill, if you under- 
 stood by my letter that it was placed ; I never intended it 
 without your approbation, and then would have put it in the 
 inside of the dome. The word " pauperie" is meant, as is 
 shown by the whole line, 
 
 *' Non indecora pauperie nitens," 
 
 to be a life rather distant from ostentation than in poverty ; 
 and which answers very well to my way of living, which, 
 though decent, is far from the show which many families 
 make here. The nobility consists of about two hundred 
 houses : among them are two dukes, that of Crillon and Gua- 
 dagna ; the last an Italian family, the other French. The 
 Count of Suze, who also values himself very much on his 
 pedigree, keeps a constant open table, as do several others. 
 You will judge by that the provisions are exceeding cheap ; 
 but it is otherwise ; the price of everything being high for 
 strangers. But as all the gentlemen keep their land in their 
 own hands, and sell their wine, oil, and corn, their housekeep- 
 ing looks very great at a small expense. They have also all 
 sort of gibier from their own lands, which enables them to keep 
 splendid table. Their estates have never been taxed, the Pope 
 drawing (as I am assured) no revenue from hence. The vice- 
 legate has a court of priests, and sees little other company ; 
 which, I believe, is partly owing to the little respect the 
 nobdity show him, who despise his want of birth. There is a 
 new one expected this spring, nephew to the Cardinal Acqua- 
 viva : he is young ; and, they say, intends to live with great 
 magnificence. 
 
 Avignon was certainly no town in the time of the Romans ; 
 
126 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 nor is there the smallest remains of any antiquity but what is 
 entirely Gothic. The town is large, but thinly peopled ; here 
 are fourteen large convents, besides others. It is so well 
 situated for trade, and the silk so fine and plentiful, that if 
 they were not curbed, by [the] French not permitting them to 
 trade, they would certainly ruin Lyons ; but as they can sell 
 none of their manufactures out of the walls of the town, and 
 the ladies here, as everywhere else, preferring foreign stuffs to 
 their own, the tradespeople are poor, and the shops ill fur- 
 nished. The people of quality all affect the French manner 
 of living; and here are many good houses. The climate 
 would be as fine as that of Naples, if we were not persecuted 
 by the north wind, which is almost a constant plague ; yet, by 
 the great age and surprising health I see many of them enjoy, 
 I am persuaded the air is very wholesome. I see [some] of 
 both sexes past eighty, who appear in all the assemblies, eat 
 great suppers, and keep late hours, without any visible infir- 
 mity. It is to-day Shrove Tuesday ; I am invited to sup at 
 the Duchess of Crillon's ; where I do not doubt I shall see 
 near fifty guests, who will all of them, young and old, except 
 myself, go masked to the ball that is given in the town-house. 
 It is the sixth given this carnival by the gentlemen gratis. 
 At the first there were one thousand two hundred tickets 
 given out, many coming from the neighbouring towns of 
 Carpentaras, Lisle, Orange, and even Aix and Aries, on pur- 
 pose to appear there. Don Philip is expected here the 22nd : 
 I believe he will not stay any time ; and if he should, I think 
 in the present situation it would be improper for me to wait 
 on him. If he goes into company, I suppose I may indiffe- 
 rently see him at an assembly. 
 
 TO MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU.' 
 
 , Avignon, March 25 [1744]. 
 
 I TAKE this opportunity of infonning you in what manner 
 I came acquainted with the secret I hinted at in my letter of 
 the 5th of February. The society of Freemasons at Nismes 
 
 ' Indorsed " Brought by William." [Lady Mary's servant.] — T. 
 
ME. WOETLET MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 127 
 
 presented the Duke of Kichelieu, governor of Languedoc, 
 with a magnificent entertainment ; it is but one daj^s post 
 from hence, and the Duchess of Crillon, with some other 
 ladies of this town, resolved to be at it, and almost by force 
 carried me with them, which I am tempted to believe an act 
 of Providence, considering my great reluctance, and the ser- 
 vice it proved to be to unhappy innocent people. The greatest 
 part of the town of Nismes are secret Protestants, which are 
 still severely punished according to the edicts of Lewis XIV. 
 whenever they are detected in any public worship. A few 
 days before we came, they had assembled ; their minister and 
 about a dozen of his congregation were seized and imprisoned. 
 I knew nothing of this ; but I had not been in the town two 
 hours, when I was visited by two of the most considerable of 
 the Huguenots, who came to beg of me, with tears, to speak in 
 their favour to the Duke of Richelieu, saying none of the Ca- 
 thohcs would do it, and the Protestants durst not, and that 
 God had sent me for their protection. The Duke of Richelieu 
 was too well-bred to refuse to listen to a lady, and I was of a 
 rank and nation to have liberty to say what I pleased ; they 
 moved my compassion so much, I resolved to use my endea- 
 vours to serve them, though I had little hope of succeeding. 
 I would not therefore dress myself for the supper, but went 
 in a domino to the ball, a masque giving opportunity of talk- 
 ing in a freer manner than I could have done withoxit it. I 
 was at no trouble in engaging his conversation : the ladies 
 having told him I was there, he immediately advanced towards 
 me ; and I found, from a different moti^'e, he had a great 
 desire to be acquainted with me, having heard a great deal of 
 me. After abundance of compliments of that sort, I made 
 my request for the liberty of the poor Protestants ; he with 
 great freedom told me he was so little a bigot, he pitied them 
 as much as I did, but his orders from court were to send them 
 to the galleys. However, to show how much he desired my 
 good opinion, he was returning, and would solicit their free- 
 dom (which he has since obtained). This obligation occa- 
 sioned me to continue the conversation, and he asked me what 
 
128 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 party the Pretender had in England ; I answered, as I thought, 
 a very small one. " We are told otherwise at Paris," said he ; 
 " however, a bustle at this time may seirve to facilitate our 
 other projects, and we intend to attempt a descent ; at least 
 it will cause the troops to be recalled, and perhaps Admiral 
 Mathews will be obliged to leave the passage open for Don 
 Philip." ^ You may imagine how much I wished to give you 
 immediate notice of this ; but as all letters are opened at 
 Paris, it would have been to no purpose to write it by the 
 post, and have only gained me a powerful enemy in the court 
 of France, he being so much a favourite of the king's, he is 
 supposed to stand candidate for the ministry. In my letter to 
 Sir R[obert] W[alpole] from Venice, I offered my service, and 
 desired to know in what manner I could send intelligence, if 
 anything happened to my knowledge that could be of use to 
 England. I believe he imagined that I wanted some gratifi- 
 cation, and only sent me cold thanks.-^I have wrote to you 
 by the post an ac(?ount of my servant's leaving me. As that 
 is only a domestic affair, I suppose the letter may be suffered 
 to pass. I have had no letter from my son, and am very sure 
 he is in the wrong, whenever he does not follow your direc- 
 tion, who, apart from other considerations, have a stronger 
 judgment than any of his advisers. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD.^ 
 [Received at Dover-street, Tuesday, May 2nd, O.S.'] 
 
 Avignon, April 13, N.S. [1744]. 
 It is two posts since I had the honour of your ladyship's 
 obliging letter, which is a longer time than I have ever yet 
 been without returning thanks for that happiness ; but the 
 
 ' The French declared war against England, March 15, 1743-4. Admiral 
 Mathews was then in command of the Mediterranean Fleet. — T. 
 
 " Henrietta Cavendish Holies, only daughter and heir of John Duke of New- 
 castle, married Edward second Earl of Oxford and Mortimer. — W. 
 
 ' This and similar memoranda at the head of these letters were no doubt made 
 by Lady Oxford on receipt of the originals ; nevertheless, they are in more than 
 one instance erroneous. This letter, for example, appears from the allusion to the 
 marriage of Lady Frances Gower and to the commencement of hostilities with 
 France, to have been clearly written in 1744 ; but the 2nd of May, O.S., 1744, 
 was a Wednesday. — T, 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 129 
 
 post is now stopped, and I should not have ventured to write 
 at present, if I had not an opportunity of sending by an Eng- 
 lish family which is leaving this place, though I think a cor- 
 respondence as inoffensive as ours might be permitted in the 
 midst of war. There would be neither party nor contest in 
 the world, if all people thought of politics with the same in- 
 difference that I do ; but I find by experience that the utmost 
 innocence and strictest silence is not sufficient to guard against 
 suspicion, and I am looked upon here as capable of very great 
 designs, at the same time that I am, and desire to be, ignorant 
 of all projects whatever. It is natural, and (I think) just, to 
 wish well to one's religion and country, yet as I can serve 
 neither by disputes, I am content to pray for both in my closet, 
 and avoid all subjects of controversy as much as I can ; how- 
 ever, I am watched here as a dangerous person, which I at- 
 tribute chiefly to Mrs. Hay,' who, having changed her own 
 rehgion, has a secret hatred, against every one that does not 
 do the same. My health, which your ladyship inquires after 
 so kindly, is extremely good ; I thank God I am sensible of no 
 distemper or infirmity : I hope all your complaints are vanished. 
 I saw Lord Goring [Gowran] at Venice ; he appeared to me 
 a very well disposed young man. I hear Miss F. Leveson^ 
 has made a siUy match, which I am sorry for, though I hope 
 it may turn out better than is expected. I am concerned for 
 poor Miss Cole's distresses ; her merit deserves better fortune. 
 Dearest madam, take care of yourself ; while you live, there 
 is always a great blessing allowed to 
 
 Your ladyship's most faithfully devoted servant. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Avignon, May 6 [1744]. 
 
 I RECEIVED but this morning, May 6, N.S., yours dated 
 March 22. I suppose this delay has been occasioned by the 
 
 ' The reputed mistress of the Pretender, before alluded to. — T. 
 
 '^ Lady Frances Leveson Gower, another niece of Lady Mary. She married 
 Lord John Sackville, second son of Lionel first Duke of Dorset. See note, post, 
 p. 131.— T. 
 
 VOL. II. K 
 
130 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 present disturbances ; I do not doubt mine have had the same 
 fate, but I hope you -will receive them at length. 
 
 I am very well acquainted with Lady Sophia Fermor, hav- 
 ing lived two months in the same house with her : she has but 
 few equals in beauty, or graces. I shall never be surprised at 
 her conquests. If Lord Carteret had the design you seem to 
 think, he could not make a more proper choice ; but I think 
 too well of his understanding to suppose he can expect happi- 
 ness from things unborn, or place it in the chimerical notion 
 of any pleasure arising to him, from his name subsisting (per- 
 haps by very sorry representatives) after his death. I am 
 apter to imagine that he has indulged his inclination at the 
 expense of his judgment ; and it appears to me the more par- 
 donable weakness. I end my reflections here, fearing my 
 letter will not come inviolate to your hands. 
 
 I am extremely glad my account of Avignon had anything 
 in it entertaining to you. I have really forgot what I wrote, my 
 sight not permitting me to take copies : if there are any par- 
 ticulars you would have explained to you, I will do it to the 
 best of my power. I can never be so agreeably employed as 
 in amusing you. 
 
 You say nothing of my son. I guess you have nothing 
 good to say. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 [Received at Dover-street, Monday, June 4tli, O.S.] 
 
 [Avignon] June 1, N.S. [1744]. 
 
 Dearest Madam, — I have many thanks to give you for 
 the agreeable news of your health (which is always in the first 
 place regarded by me), and the safe deliveiy of the Duchess 
 of Portland,' whose little son will, I hope, grow up a blessing 
 to you both. I heartily congratulate your ladyship on this in- 
 crease of your family ; may you long enjoy the happiness of 
 seeing their prosperity ! 
 
 I am less surprised at Lady Sophia's marriage than at the 
 
 ' The Duchess of Portland, daughter of Lady Oxford, gave birth to a son on 
 the 8rd of March, 1744.— T. 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 131 
 
 fortune Lord Pomfret has given her ; she had charms enough 
 to expect to make her fortune, and I beheve the raising of 
 such a sum must be uneasy in his present circumstances. By 
 the accounts I have received of Lady John Sackville,' I think 
 the young couple are much to be pitied, and am sorry to hear 
 their relations treat them with so much severity ; if I was in 
 England, I would endeavour to serve them. 
 
 Mrs. Hay has behaved to me with a great deal of imperti- 
 nence ; there is no .principle to be expected from a woman of 
 her character. Your ladyship need not mention yoiu- com- 
 mand of continuing our correspondence ; it is the only com- 
 fort of my life, and I should think myself the last of human 
 beings if I was capable of forgetting the many obligations I 
 have to you : if you could see my heart, you would never 
 mention anything of that kind to me ; it is impossible to have 
 a more tender and grateful sense of all your goodness, which, 
 added to the real esteem I have of your merit, binds me to be 
 eternally and inviolably your ladyship's most sincere and de- 
 voted servant. 
 
 Your ladyship will permit me to offer my compliments to 
 the Duke and Duchess of Portland. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Avignon, June 12, N.S. [1744]. 
 
 I BELIEVE William^ may tell truth in regard to the ex- 
 
 ' A manuscript note on this passage in a copy of Lady Mary's Works which I ■ 
 have seen, says that the lady was staying at her sister's, the Duchess of Bedford's, 
 and that the marriage took place " after the birth of a child." The writer adds : 
 " the duchess and the duke were indignant on the discovery of the intrigue. 
 The child was bom at Wobum Abbey on the Saturday, and they were married 
 on the Sunday." Mrs. Delany, in a letter dated Feb. li, 1743-4, gives a some- 
 what different version of the storj*. " The particulars of Miss Lewson. [Leveson 
 Gower.] Surely I sent you a long story about her, as how she fell ill, and in 
 the midst of her pains told the Duchess of Bedford (who they say was ignorant 
 of her condition till that moment) that she had been married a year to Lord 
 John Sackville. A wretched couple I fear they will prove. He is ill natured, 
 and a man of no principle, and she has shown the world that she has little pru- 
 dence." — T. 
 
 "Lady Mary's servant, William Turner, who with his wife accompanied her 
 from England. They had been secretly married, and the fact gave Lady Mary 
 much annoyance. They returned to England with their two children shortly 
 before the date of this letter, the husband having had an attack of palsy. — T. 
 
 k2 
 
132 CORRfiSPOlTDENCE WITH 
 
 penses of his journey, making it at a time when the passage 
 of the troops had doubled the price of everything ; and they 
 were detained ten days at Calais before they had permission 
 to pass over. I represented these inconveniences to them be- 
 fore they set out ; but they were in such a hurry to go, from 
 a notion that they should be forced to stay, after a declaration 
 of war, that I could not prevail on them to stay a week 
 longer, though it would probably have saved a great part of 
 their expense. I would willingly have kept them (with all 
 faults), being persuaded of their fidelity, and that in case of 
 any accident happening to me, you would have had a faithful 
 account of my effects ; but it was impossible to make them 
 contented in a country where there is neither ale nor salt beef. 
 This town is considerably larger than either Aix or Mont- 
 pelier, and has more inhabitants of quality than of any other 
 sort, having no trade, from the exactions of the French, 
 though better situated for it than any inland town I know. 
 What is most singular is the government, which retains a sort 
 of imitation of the old Roman : here are two consuls chosen 
 every year, the first of whom from the chief noblesse ; and 
 there is as much struggling for that dignity in the Hotel de 
 Ville as in the Senate. The vice-legate cannot violate their 
 privileges, but as all governors naturally wish to increase their 
 authority, there are perpetual factions of the same kind as 
 those between prerogative and liberty of the subject. We 
 have a new vice-legate, arrived a few days since, nephew to 
 Cardinal Acquaviva, young, rich, and handsome, and sets out 
 in a greater figure than has ever been known here. The 
 magistrate next to him in place is called the vignier, who is 
 chosen every year by the Hotel de Ville, and represents the 
 person of the Pope in all criminal causes, but his authority [is] 
 so often clipped by the vice-legates, there remains nothing of 
 it at present but the honour of precedence, during his oflSce, 
 and a box at the playhouse gratis, with the surintendance of 
 all public diversions. When Don Philip passed here, he began 
 the ball with his lady, which is the custom of all the princes 
 that pass. 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 133 
 
 The beginning of Avignon was probably a colony from 
 Marseilles, there having been a temple of Diana on that very 
 spot where I have my little pavihon. If there was any painter 
 capable of drawing it, I would send you a view of the land- 
 scape, which is one of the most beautiful I ever saw. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 [Received at Dover-street, Monday, July 9th, O.S., 174-1.] 
 
 Avignon, July 2, N.S. [1744]. 
 
 I AM extremely glad to find by your ladyship's of the 7th 
 of June, that your health is amended, and as I am persuaded 
 that there is nothing more conducive to it than amusements, I 
 think it extremely reasonable you should take that of embel- 
 lishing your pateriial seat, which, on many accounts, I think 
 one of the most rational as well as agreeable you can take. 
 Indeed, it is a sort of duty to support a place which has been 
 so long dignified and distinguished by your ancestors, and I 
 beheve all people that think seriously, or justly, will be of that 
 opinion ; as for others, their censure ought to be wholly dis- 
 regarded, as it is impossible to be avoided. There are many 
 in the world incapable of any other sort of conversation 
 except that of remarking the mistakes of others, and are very 
 often so much mistaken themselves, they blame the most 
 praiseworthy actions, and are so unacquainted with virtue, 
 they do not know it when they see it. I hope your ladyship 
 will Hve to see finished, and enjoy many years, the beautiful 
 improvements you are making : if I am permitted to see them 
 in your company, I shall esteem myself very happy ; if I am 
 so unfortunate to survive you, I have no more prospect of any 
 pleasure upon earth. It is a very great truth, that as your 
 friendship has been the greatest blessing and honour of my 
 life, it is only that which gives me any pleasing view for those 
 years that remain, which, be they few or many, are entirely 
 devoted to you by, dear madam. 
 
 Your ladyship's most faithful obedient servant. 
 
134 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF POMFKET. 
 
 Avignon, July 12, N.S. [174i]. 
 
 It is but this morning that I have received the honour of 
 your ladyship's obliging letter of the 31st of May; the other 
 you mentioned never reached me, and this has been consider- 
 ably retarded in its passage. It is one of the sad effects of 
 •war, for us miserable exiles, the difficulty of corresponding 
 with the few friends who are generous enough to remember 
 the absent. I am very sorry and surprised to hear your good 
 constitution has had such an attapk. In lieu of many other 
 comforts I have that of a very uncommon share of health ; in 
 all my wanderings, having never had one day's sickness, 
 though nobody ever took less care to preverit it. If any 
 marriage can have a prospect of continued happiness, it is 
 that of Lord and Lady Carteret. She has fortunately met 
 with one that will know how to value her, and I know no 
 other place where he could have found a lady of her educa- 
 tion ; which in her early youth has given her all the advan- 
 tages of experience, and her beauty is her least merit. I do 
 not doubt that of Lady Charlotte^ will soon procure her a 
 happy settlement. I am much pleased with my niece's meet- 
 ing with Lord Goring ;2 he visited me at Venice, and seemed 
 one of the most reasonable young men I have seen. 
 
 I endeavour to amuse myself here with aU sorts of monastic 
 employments, the conversation not being at all agreeable to 
 me, and friendship in France as impossible to be attained as 
 orange-trees on the mountains of Scotland : it is not the pro- 
 duct of the climate ; and I try to content myself with reading, 
 working, walking, and what you'll wonder to hear me mention, 
 building. I know not whether you saw when you were at 
 Avignon the rock of Douse, at the foot of which is the vice- 
 legate's palace ; from the top of it you may see the four pro- 
 vinces of Venaisin, Provence, Languedoc, and Dauphin^ ; 
 
 ' Lady Charlotte Fermor, second daughter of Lady Pomfret. She married two 
 years later 'Williara Finch, Esq., brother to the Earl of Winchilsea. — T. 
 
 ^ The niece referred to was Miss Evelyn Leveson Gower, youngest daughter of 
 Lady Mary's sister. She married Lord Gowran, afterwards Earl of Upper 
 Ossory, on the 29th of June, 1744.— T. 
 
MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 135 
 
 with the distant mountains of Auvergne, and the near meeting 
 of the Durance and Rhone which flow under it ; in short, it 
 is the most beautiful land-prospect I ever saw. There was 
 anciently a temple of Diana, and another of Hercules of Gaul, 
 whose ruins were turned into a fort, where the powder and 
 ammunition of the town were kept, which was destroyed by 
 lightning, about eighty years since. There remained an 
 ancient round tower, which I said in presence of the consul I 
 would make a very agreeable belvidere if it was mine. I ex- 
 pected no consequence from this accidental speech of mine ; 
 but he proposed to the Hotel de Ville, the next day, making 
 me a present of it ; which was done nemine contradicente. 
 Partly to show myself sensible of that civility, and partly for 
 my own amusement, I have fitted up a little pavihon, which 
 Lord Burhngton' would call a temple ; being in the figure of 
 the Rotunda ; where I keep my books and generally pass all 
 my evenings. If the winds were faithful messengers, they 
 would bring you from thence many sighs and good wishes. I 
 have few correspondents in England, and you that have lived 
 abroad know the common phrases that are made use of ; " As 
 I suppose you know everything that passes here ;" or, " Here 
 is nothing worth troubling you with ;" this is all the intelli- 
 gence I receive. You may judge, then, how much I think my- 
 self obUged to you, dear madam, when you tell me what 
 passes amongst you. I am so ignorant, I cannot even guess 
 at the improper marriages you mention. If it is Lady Mary 
 Grey^ that has disposed of herself in so dirty a manner, I 
 think her a more proper piece of furniture for a parsonage- 
 house than a palace ; and 'tis possible she may have been the 
 original product of a chaplain. 
 
 I believe your ladyship's good nature will lament the sudden 
 death of the poor Marquis of Beaufort, who died of an apo- 
 plectic fit. He is a national loss to the English, being always 
 ready to serve 
 
 ' Pope's patron, celebrated as " the architect." — T. 
 
 2 Lady Mary Grey, daughter of Henry Duke of Kent, married Dr. Gregory, 
 Dean of Christchurch.— T. 
 
136 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 [C»me to Dover-street, Monday, Aug. 13th, O.S. ; received at Welbeck, 
 
 Thursday, IGth, O.S., 1744.] 
 
 Avignon, Aug. 10th, N.S. [1744]. 
 
 I AM very glad your ladyship has been at Bulstrode/ being 
 fully persuaded the good air and good company there -will 
 very much contribute to your health. Your satisfaction is 
 the most agreeable news I can hear, though I am very well 
 pleased that one of my nieces is so happily disposed of, but I 
 was told it is Miss Evelyn, and not Miss Betty, that is now 
 Lady Goring^ [Gowran]. I am much obliged to Miss Cole 
 for her remembrance, and am sorry the troubles of that good 
 family are not at an end ; there is very seldom merit without 
 persecution, a good conscience is the most valuable of all 
 blessings, and the only one that is beyond the power of for- 
 tune. 
 
 I hear that Pope^ is dead, but suppose it is a mistake, since 
 your ladyship has never mentioned it : if it is so, I have some 
 small curiosity for the disposition of his affairs, and to whom 
 he has left the enjoyment of his pretty house at Twickenham, 
 which was in his power to dispose, for only one year after his 
 decease.^ 
 
 Dear madam, I know not in what words to thank you for 
 kind intentions for me in the lottery ; I have had so many oc- 
 casions of the same nature, it is not strange I want expressions 
 to signify my gratitude : you interest yourself too much for 
 one, that I fear is unlucky enough to render useless all your 
 generous endeavours, and can never make you any return, 
 notwithstanding the sincere and inviolable attachment with 
 which I am, dearest madam, 
 
 Your ladyship's most faithful devoted servant. 
 
 ' Near Gerard's Cross, Bucks, a seat of Lady Oxford's daughter's husband, the 
 Duke of Portland.— T. 
 
 * The reader will have seen hy a note on a J)reviou3 letter that Lady Mary's 
 first information was correct. — T. 
 
 3 The poet Pope. He died 30th of May, 1744. — T. 
 
 ' There is no special mention in Pope's will of hia house. Martha Blount was 
 the residuary legatee — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU ANP OTHERS. 137 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 [Came to Dorer-street, Tuesday, 18th Sept., O.S. ; received at Welbeck, 
 
 Thursday, 20th Sept.] 
 
 Avignon, Sept. 14th, N.S. [1744]. 
 
 The disorder of your ladyship's health which you mention 
 gives me the highest concern, though I hope it is now over, 
 and that the good air of Welbeck will wholly estabUsh it : I 
 beg of you, with the utmost earnestness, that you would be 
 careful of yourself ; I can receive no proof of your friendship 
 so obliging to me, though I am yours by every tie that can 
 engage a grateful heart. Mr. Wortley has said nothing to me 
 of his visit to your ladyship, nor can I guess on what account 
 it was, but suppose it relating to some country interest; I 
 know so well your just way of thinking, that I am sure you 
 always act right. Mrs. Massam informed me of the hard for- 
 tune of poor Lady Euston :' I very much pity Lady Bur- 
 lington, but should do it yet more, if there had not been some 
 circumstances in her marrying her daughter, which make her 
 in some measure blamable for the event ; however, there can 
 be no excuse for the brutal behaviour of her worthless hus- 
 band. Your happy disposition of the charming Duchess of 
 Portland secures you from all sorrows of that kind, and I 
 pray to God you may live to see your grandchildren as hap- 
 pily settled : your life is the greatest blessing that can be 
 bestowed on your family ; I am fully persuaded they all think 
 so, and I hope that consideration will be of force to make you 
 
 ' George Earl of Euston was second son of Charles second Duke of Grafton, 
 by Lady Henrietta, daughter of Charles Marquis of Worcester, son of Henry 
 Duke of Beaufort. Lord Euston married, in 1741, Lady Dorothy, daughter of 
 Richard tlurdand last Earl of Burlington of that house: she died in April, 1742. 
 Lord Euston died in 1747, leaving no children. — W. 
 
 The following is taken from a note to one of the Honourable Horace Walpole's 
 letters to Sir Horace Mann, dated June 20th, 1743 : 
 
 " Upon a picture of Lady Dorothy, at the Duke of Devonshire's at Chiswick, 
 is the following touching inscription, written by her mother, which commemorates 
 her virtues and her fate : 
 
 " ' Lady Dorothy Boyle, born May the 14th, 1724. She was the comfort and 
 joy of her parents, the delight of all who knew her angelic temper, and the admira- 
 tion of all who saw her beauty. She was married October 10th, 1741, and de- 
 livered (by death) from misery, May the 2nd, 1742. 
 
 " * This picture was drawn seven weeks after her death (from memory), by Iicr 
 most affectionate mother, Dorothy Burlington.'" — W. 
 
138 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 careful to preserve it : I need not add how dear it is to me, 
 being to my last moment, 'dearest madam, with the tenderest 
 affection. 
 
 Your ladyship's devoted servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 [Came to Dover-street, Saturday, O.S., Oct. 27 ; received at Welbeck, 
 
 Monday, Oct. 29.] 
 
 Avignon, Oct. 15, N.S. [17-14]. 
 
 Deaeest Madam — I have received but this day your lady- 
 ship's of August 29th : this length of passage is, I suppose, 
 occasioned by the cessation of correspondence between Dover 
 and Calais ; all letters must now go round by Holland, which 
 is a great grief to me, since I must now content myself to be 
 some weeks longer before I can hear from my dearest Lady 
 Oxford, whose kindness was the greatest comfort of my life. 
 Everything that relates to you is of importance to me ; I am 
 therefore very much concerned that you have fallen into ill 
 hands, in your building. This world is so corrupt it is difficult 
 to meet with honesty in any station, and such good hearts as 
 yours, which are not naturally inclined to suspicion, are often 
 liable to be imposed on : if I could think myself capable of 
 being any way useful to you, it would make this distance be- 
 tween us doubly painful to me. I am surprised Lord Biu- 
 Hngton is unmentioned in Pope's will ; on the whole, it appears 
 to me more reasonable and less vain than I expected from 
 him. I cannot conclude my letter without repeating my most 
 earnest desire that you woidd consider your health in the first 
 place, and let no business whatever interrupt your care of it ; 
 there is no expression can tell you how dear it is to 
 
 Your ladyship's most faithful and affectionate servant. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Avignon, Oct. 29, N.S. [1744]. 
 
 I HAVE wrote twice to you this month, but fear you may 
 not have had either of them. I send this by Geneva. I 
 received yours of September 29th this morning. • 
 
MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 139 
 
 I am very much concerned for the ill state of poor Lady 
 Oxford's health : she is the only friend I can depend on in 
 this world (except yourself). She tells me she stays at Welbeck, 
 having been cheated of some thousands by one she employed 
 in her building there, and is very troublesomely engaged in 
 setting things in order. 
 
 I have had a letter from my son of a very old date, but no 
 direction where to answer it ; there is nothing in it worth re- 
 peating. We have had unusual rains, but they are always wel- 
 come here, drought being the general complaint of this pro- 
 vince. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 [Came to Dover-street, Tuesday, 20tli Nov., O.S. ; received at "Welbeck, 
 
 Thursday, 22nd Nov., O.S.] 
 
 Avignon, Oct. 29 [1744]. 
 
 Dearest Madam, — I received your ladyship's obliging 
 letter of September 24:th this morning, and, some time since, 
 that in which was a copy of Pope's will, for which I returned 
 you my immediate thanks, but fear that letter miscarried, 
 since I hear they should all be directed through Holland. 
 These redoubled attacks of your cholic, which must necessarily 
 weaken any constitution, give me inexpressible pain. I had, 
 at the same time, a letter from Mr. Wortley that tells me 
 your health is very uncertain. If I am so unhappy to survive 
 you, I shall look upon myself as a widow and an orphan, 
 having no friend in this world but yourself : if you saw the 
 tears with which these lines are accompanied, you would be 
 convinced of the sincerity of them ; let me beg you upon my 
 knees to take care of your life, and let no other regard what- 
 ever occasion the neglect of it. I fear the omission of the 
 Bath waters this autumn season may be attended with ill con- 
 sequences ; for God's sake (dear madam) leave all things, 
 when it is necessary to think of your own preservation. Mr. 
 Wortley teUs me Lady Peterborough' is with you, which I 
 
 ^ This must have been Mary the daughter of John Cox, Esq., of London, the 
 wife of Charles fourth Earl of Peterborough, who succeeded his grandfather, the 
 famous Lord Peterborough, in 1735. — W. 
 
140 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 am glad of for both your sakes : he adds, that your alterations 
 at Welbeck are in the best taste ; I pray Ahnighty God you 
 may live many comfortable years to enjoy them, and that 
 some part of the reward of your virtue may be in this world : 
 these are the daily and most earnest prayers of 
 
 Your ladyship's most faithful and devoted servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 [Received at Welbeck, Monday, June 10th, O.S. ; came to Dover-street, 8th, O.S.] 
 
 Avignon, June 1 [1745]. 
 
 Dearest Madam, — It is but this day I have received the 
 pleasure of your ladyship's obhging letter ; it is impossible to 
 tell you the joy it gave me after so long a silence, though very 
 much abated by the account of your ill health. I pray with 
 the utmost fervency that your journey may contribute to your 
 recovery, and am persuaded that it is the safest, and most pro- 
 bable method of mending a constitution : I could wish it south- 
 ward, not in regard to my own interest, but as a removal to a 
 better air. I have often repeated to you how exceeding dear 
 your life is to me ; if you valued it as much, all other con- 
 siderations would be laid aside, when your preservation was in 
 question. I beheve the interruption of our correspondence 
 may be partly owing to your ladyship's having forgot to direct 
 your letter enclosed to Monsieur Pierre de Vos, k Rotterdam, 
 Holland. 
 
 Whatever good forttuie happens to me, must always come 
 through your hands ; this is the first prize that ever came to 
 my share, and it is owing to your ladyship in all senses. 
 
 My daughter wrote me word the last post, that Thoresby is 
 utterly destroyed by fire ;' I cannot help feeling some concern, 
 and at the same time making many reflections on the vanity 
 of all worldly possessions : I thank God my heart is so entirely 
 detached from them, that I never desu-e more than the small 
 portion I enjoy. 
 
 ' The Duke of Kingston's seat at Thoresby, in Nottinghamshire, was burnt 
 down April 4th, 1745, nothing being saved but the writings, plate, and a little of 
 the furniture. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 141 
 
 I finish my letter with the most earnest recommendations to 
 your ladyship to take care of yom* health, and the assurances 
 of the most unalterable gratitude and affection from, dearest 
 madam, 
 
 Your most faithfully devoted humble servant. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Avignon June 8, N.S. [1745]. 
 
 I BLAVE this day yours of the 8th of April, O.S., and at the 
 same time one from Lady Oxford, who has not received (as 
 she says) any from me since November, though I have wrote 
 several times. 
 
 I perfectly remember carrying back the manuscript you 
 mention, and delivering it to Lord Oxford. I never failed 
 returning to hirnself all the books he lent me. It is true, I 
 showed it to the Duchess of Montague, but we read it together, 
 and I did not even leave it with her. I am not surprised in 
 that vast quantity of manuscripts some should be lost or mis- 
 laid, particularly knowing Lord Oxford to be careless of them, 
 easily lending, and as easily forgetting he had done it.^ I re- 
 member I carried him once one very finely illuminated, that, 
 when I delivered, he did not recollect he had lent to me, 
 though it was but a few days before. Wherever this is, I 
 think you need be in no pain about it. The verses are too 
 bad to be printed, excepting from malice, and since the death 
 of Pope I know nobody that is an enemy to either of us. I 
 will write to my son the first opportunity I have of doing it. 
 By the post [it] is impossible at this time. I have seen the 
 French list of the dead and wounded, in which he is not 
 mentioned :^ so that I suppose he has escaped. All letters, 
 even directed to Holland, are opened ; and I believe those to 
 the army would be stopped. 
 
 I know so little of English affairs, I am surprised to hear 
 Lord Granville has lost his power. 
 
 ^ Lord Oxford's collection is now well known as the " Harleian MSS." in the 
 British Museum." — T. 
 
 ' The disastrous battle of Fontcnoy was fought on the 30th of April, 1745. — T 
 
142 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 [Came to London, July 29, O.S. ; received at Welbeck, Thursday, 
 
 Aug. 1, O.S., 1745.] 
 
 Avignon, July 25, N.S. [1745.] 
 
 Dearest Madam, — Your ladyship's letters are always 
 greatly agreeable to me, but doubly so when they bring the 
 news of your health : change of air and exercise are the best 
 remedies I know ; I am very glad you have experienced them, 
 and hope you will on no account neglect the care of yourself. 
 I cannot express to you how many uneasy moments I have 
 had on that subject ; 'tis the only way you can be wanting to 
 your friends and family, but it is their greatest as well as 
 tenderest interest, that you should take care to preserve a life 
 so valuable as yours. I pass my time very disagreeably at 
 present amongst the French, their late successes have given 
 them an air of triumph that is very difficult for an English 
 heart to suffer;' I think less of politics than most people, yet 
 cannot be entirely insensible of the misfortunes of my country. 
 I am very sorry for the Duke of Kingston ; I believe, in his 
 place, I should renounce building on a spot of ground that 
 has been twice so unfortunate. I suppose you are now in the 
 midst of your deserving family, and sincerely partake of aU 
 the blessings you enjoy in them. Your happiness cannot ex- 
 ceed your merit or my wishes. You will give me leave to 
 present the Duchess of Portland with my respects, at the same 
 time that I assure your ladyship that I am with the truest and 
 most tender affection, 
 
 Dearest madam, inviolably yom's. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU.^ 
 
 Avignon, Jan. 10, N.S. [1746]. 
 
 I RETURN you many thanks for the trouble you have taken 
 in sending me IMiss Fielding's books : they would have been 
 
 ' Lady Mary alludes to the recent victory of Fontenoy, and the successes of the 
 French in Flanders. — T. 
 
 '' Published in the Gentleman's Magazine for May, 1851, from the original 
 in the possession of Robert Cole, Esq., F.S.A. Mr. Wortley indorsed this letter 
 " 1745," which meant 1746-6, as is evident from an unpublished letter from 
 him to Lady Mary, dated " London, 4 March, 1745-C," in which he says : " The 
 
MR. WORTLET MONTAGU AND OTHERS. I^kJ 
 
 much welcomer had they been accompanied with a letter from 
 yourself. I received at the same time (which was but two 
 days ago) one from Mr. Muilman/ who informed me that 
 you were at the waters of Pyrmont. The date is so old I 
 suppose you are long since returned to England. I hope your 
 journey has been rather for pleasure than necessity of health. 
 I suppose your travelling (of which I never had any notice 
 from you) has occasioned the miscarriage of the many I have 
 wrote to you. I directed them all to Cavendish-square (which 
 perhaps you have left) excepting the last, which I enclosed to 
 my daughter. I have never heard from her since, nor from 
 any other person in England, which gives me the greatest un- 
 easiness ; but the most sensible part of it is in regard of your 
 health, which is truly and sincerely the dearest concern I have 
 in this world. I am very impatient to leave this town, which 
 has been highly disagreeable to me ever since the beginning 
 of this war, but the impossibility of returning into Italy, and 
 the law in France which gives to the king all the effects any 
 person deceased dies possessed of, and I own that I am very 
 desirous my jewels and some little necessary plate that I have 
 bought, should be safely delivered into your hands, hoping 
 you will be so good to dispose of them to my daughter. The 
 Dake of Richelieu flattered me for some time that he would 
 obtain for me a permission to dispose of my goods, but has not 
 yet done it, and you know the uncertainty of court promises. 
 
 I beg you to write, though it is but two lines. 'Tis now 
 many months since I have had the pleasure of hearing from 
 you.^ 
 
 Pynnont waters and travelling agreed with me very much. In coming from 
 Harwich I sprained my shoulder." — T. 
 
 ' A banker at Amsterdam, through whose hands some of Lady Mary's letters 
 passed. — T. 
 
 2 The letters of Lady Mary to her husband are with hardly any exception in- 
 dorsed with a curious minuteness, of which the following, on the present letter, may 
 serve as a specimen : 
 
 " L. M. 10 Jan., 1745. Thanks for Miss Fielding's books. — Supposes my tra- 
 velling occasioned the miscarriage of many letters : she wrote all directed to Ca- 
 vendish-square : the last enclosed to our daughter — has never heard since from any 
 one in England— her concern about me. Does not go to France fearing her jewels 
 might go to the king, which she desires may go to her daughter. Many months 
 since she heard from me ; desires me to write, though but two lines. Rec'' 22 Jan 
 Ans*". 4 Mar." — T. 
 
144 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 [Camo to Dover-street, Saturday, May 17th, O.S., 1746; received at Welbect, 
 
 Monday, May 19, O.S.] 
 
 [Avignon] Feb. 7, N.S. [1746]. 
 
 Deaeest Madam, — ^It is impossible to express my uneasi- 
 ness from your silence : I troubled your ladyship, not many 
 days ago, with a long account of it ; not foreseeing the pre- 
 sent opportunity of sending this, by one of the late D. of 
 Ormond's servants, who has desired me to give a certificate 
 of his behaviour to Lord Arran.' In justice to him, I cannot 
 refuse saying, that I think I saw none in that large family 
 (where there was as much faction and ill management as in 
 any court in Europe) that seemed to serve with so much 
 fidelity and attachment : I have that opinion of his honesty, if 
 it was suitable to my little affairs, I would retain him in my 
 own service. Your ladyship (who is always ready to do good) 
 will mention this to Lady Arran. I say nothing of many 
 other things relating to that family which do not concern me ; 
 to say truth, the -melancholy letters I have from my daughter 
 dispirits me so much, I am hardly capable of thinking on any- 
 thing else excepting yourself, who is always first in my 
 thoughts, and will be last in my prayers whenever it pleases 
 God to dismiss from this troublesome world, 
 
 Your ladyship's most faithful obedient servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 [Came to Dover-street, Saturday, Feb. 22, O.S. ; received at "Welbeck, 
 Monday, Feb. 24th, O.S., 1745.^] 
 
 Avignon, Feb. 15, N.S. [1746]. 
 
 Dearest Madam, — ^I received by the last post an account 
 from Mr. Wortley of your ladyship's kind inquiries after me ; 
 'tis the first time I have heard from him of many months, 
 
 ' See note on next letter. — T. 
 
 ' Lady Oxford dates according to the civil or ecclesiastical year ending 24th of 
 March. The 22nd of February fell on a Saturday in 1746, not in 1745. See, in 
 confirmation, Lady Mary's letter dated " Avignon, June 8, N.S." (ante, p. 141), 
 and indorsed by Mr. Wortley, " 1745," in which she speaks of Lady Oxford not 
 having received any letter from her " since November." — T. 
 
MB. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 145 
 
 though , he has wrote many times, and I find all my letters 
 have miscarried. I never received that which he tells me you 
 was so good to send by Child, nor any other since September, 
 which I answered immediately; I have addressed several 
 others to you, by different ways, but I fear with equal ill 
 fortune ; the last I sent was by a servant of the late D. of O. 
 [Duke of Ormond] who accompanies his corpse. I flatter 
 myself (by having now heard from England, and that one of 
 mine to my daughter is come to her hands) that the post is 
 now open. I can assure you (dearest madam) that during all 
 my uneasiness on the interruption of our correspondence, I 
 feared for your health, but never once suspected your for- 
 getting me ; I have had too many proofs of your unwearied 
 friendship to think you capable of changing, and, however in- 
 significant I am, I am perfectly persuaded that you will ever 
 retain the goodness you have always had for me, which when- 
 ever I forfeit, I must forfeit my reason, since only the loss of 
 that can make me unmindful of your virtue and merit. I be- 
 lieve Lord Arran' has been much abused in the disposition of 
 his brother's affairs : I cannot help hating the sight of injustice 
 so much, it is with difficulty I restrain myself from meddling, 
 notwithstanding the experience I have, of its being a very 
 thankless office in that family. I cannot express to your lady- 
 ship what a comfort it is to me to hear of your health, nor 
 how much I have suffered by the uncertainty of it. I hope 
 our civil broils are now over, and that I may once more have 
 the satisfaction of assuring you frequently that I am ever, 
 dearest madam, inviolably 
 
 Your ladyship's obedient faithful servant. 
 My compHments and good wishes attend your family. 
 
 ' Charles Butler, second and last surviving son of Thomas Earl of Ossory, 
 eldest son of the first Duke of Ormond. He died without issue in 1758. See 
 Honourable Horace Walpole's letter to Sir Horace Mann, dated Christmas-day, 
 1758.— W. 
 
 TOL. II. 
 
146 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 [Came to London, Friday, April 18th, 1746, O.S. ; received at "Welbeck, 
 Monday, April 21st, 1746, O.S. 
 
 Dated, I suppose, from Avignon, April 11th, N.S.] 
 
 Dearest Madam, — I received the happiness of your lady- 
 ship's of February 26th but this morning, April 11th, N.S. 
 It has been a long time on the road, but since I have it at 
 length, I ought to be contented. The news here is, in general, 
 peace, which seems wished by all sides. When it is settled, I 
 hope our correspondence will meet with no further interrup- 
 tion ; it is the greatest comfort of my life, and doubly so when 
 I am informed of the recovery of your health. I believe the 
 air of Welbeck (which was that of your infancy) will agree 
 better with you than any other, which makes me wish your 
 ladyship would continue in it as long as your affairs permit. 
 I wrote a letter to you by a servant of the late D. of Or- 
 mond, who asked me a sort of certificate of his honesty, I 
 supposed in order to justify him to Lord Arran, to whom he 
 had (as he said) been misrepresented. I said to you, what I 
 really thought at the time ; I have since heard that the poor 
 man is disordered in his head, and that he is parted from the 
 other servants with whom he travelled. I know not what is 
 become either of him or my letter ; however, there was no- 
 thing in it that can be of any prejudice, containing only my 
 constant assurances of the tenderest friendship for you, and 
 complaints of your silence, which was then so painful to me, 
 I was glad to snatch at any occasion, where there appeared a 
 possibility of conveying a letter to you ; not doubting but 
 those by the post had been lost. Dearest madam, whUe I have 
 life, I shall ever be, with the highest sense of gratitude. 
 
 Your ladyship's most faithful affectionate servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 [Came to Dover-street, Thursday, June 12th, 1746 ; received at Brodsworth, 
 Sunday, June 15th, O.S.] 
 
 [Avignon, June 3, N.S., 1746.] 
 
 Dearest Madam, — I had the happiness of receiving two 
 
MR. WORTLET MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 147 
 
 of your ladyship's ever kind letters this day, June 3rd, N.S. 
 I need not repeat my gratitude, which is always in the highest 
 degree ; and yet I think it far below what I owe you, as the 
 best and truest friend that I ever was blest with. If I am to 
 beheve the public accounts, I have reason to hope our intes- 
 tine troubles are now over ; I wish one article in your lady- 
 ship's of April 23rd may prove certain : it cannot fail of being 
 to our advantage. I will say nothing more of affairs that may 
 occasion my letter being stopped ; I am persuaded they are all 
 opened more than once. 
 
 I hear the Duchess of Manchester^ is married, but I cannot 
 learn to whom. No news interests me so much, as that of 
 your health ; it is the highest obhgation you can lay on me, 
 to take care of it. I am quite ashamed of the troiible you 
 give yourself in relation to the lottery; you will not be 
 thanked, or I should say more on that subject. You will 
 permit me to make my acknowledgments to the Duke and 
 Duchess of Portland for their obliging remembrance : may 
 they long continue blessings to you and each other ! 
 
 We have had such long and surprising rains in this 
 country,, there has been an inundation in this town that 
 hindered many people from stirring out of their houses : mine 
 happens to be situated so high that I suffered nothing from 
 it ; the consequences would, however, have been very bad if it 
 had lasted, but was over in two days. I cannot conclude 
 without renewing my solicitations for the care of yoiirself , with 
 my earnest prayers for your welfare, which are uttered with 
 the greatest zeal by, dearest madam, your ladyship's 
 
 Most faithful and affectionate servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 [Came to Dover-street, Tuesday, Jviy 29th, O.S., 1746 -, received at Welbeck, 
 Thursday, July Slst, O.S.] 
 
 Avignon, July 20, N.S. [1746]. 
 
 Dearest Madam, — I sincerely beg your ladyship's pardon 
 
 ' She married Edward Hussey, Esq., afterwards Lord Beaulieu. The reader 
 will find remarks on this marriage in subsequent letters. — T. 
 
 L 2 
 
148 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 for what I said in regard to Wilson/ since I perceive it has 
 occasioned you some trouble ; it was only an attestation of 
 what I thought due to an honest man, that appeared to me 
 hardly dealt with by a pack of knaves. I am neither sur- 
 prised nor offended at Lord Arran's conduct ; he has suffered 
 so much in his own interest by misplacing his confidence, no- 
 body ought to be angry at his mistakes towards others. 
 
 This is the first time of my life I have been two posts 
 without making my acknowledgments for your ladyship's ever 
 kind letters, which are the comforts of my life ; nothing could 
 have hindered my doing it but an indisposition in my eyes, 
 which are still too bad to suffer me to write long, but I fear 
 your tenderness would be in pain for my health if I delayed 
 giving you some account of it. God preserve yours, and add 
 to it every other blessing ! I can say no more but the constant 
 repetition of my being ever, dearest madam, 
 
 Your most faithfully affectionate humble servant. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 Brescia, Aug. 23, N.S. [1746]. 
 
 YoTT will be surprised at the date of this letter, but Avignon 
 has been long disagreeable to me on many accounts, and now 
 more than ever, from the concourse of Scotch and Irish rebels 
 that choose it for their refuge, and are so highly protected by 
 the vice-legate, that it is impossible to go into any company 
 without hearing a conversation that is improper to be listened 
 to, and dangerous to contradict. The war with France hin- 
 dered my settling there for reasons I have already told you ; 
 and the difficulty of passing into Italy confined me, though I 
 was always watching an opportunity of returning thither. 
 Fortune at length presented me one. 
 
 I believe I wrote you word, when I was at Venice, that I 
 saw there the Count of Wackerbarth, who was governor to 
 the Prince of Saxony, and is favourite of the King of Poland, 
 and the many civilities I received from him, as an old friend 
 
 ' No doubt the servant of the "late Duke of Ormond" previously referred 
 to.— T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 149 
 
 of his mother's. About a month since came to Avignon, a 
 gentleman of the bedchamber of the prince, who is a man of 
 the first quality in this province, I believe charged with some 
 private commission from the Polish court. He brought me a 
 letter. of recommendation from Count Wackerbarth, which 
 engaged me to show him what civilities lay in my power. In 
 conversation I lamented to him the impossibility of my at- 
 tempting a journey to Italy, where he was going. He offered 
 me his protection, and represented to me that if I would permit 
 him to wait on me, I might pass under the notion of a Vene- 
 tian lady. In short, I ventured upon it, which has succeeded 
 very well, though I met with more impediments in my journey 
 than I expected. We went by sea to Genoa, where I made a 
 very short stay, and saw nobody, having no passport from that 
 state, and fearing to be stopped, if I was known. We took 
 post-chaises from thence the 16th of this month, and were 
 very much surprised to meet, on the Briletta, or Pochetta, the 
 baggage of the Spanish army, with a prodigious number of 
 sick and wounded soldiers and officers, who marched in a very 
 great hurry. The Count of Palazzo' ordered his servants to 
 say we were in haste for the service of Don Philip, and without 
 further examination they gave us place everywhere ; notwith- 
 standing which, the midtitude of carriages and loaded mules 
 which we met in these narrow roads, made it impossible for us 
 to reach Scravalli till it was near night. Our surprise was 
 great to find, coming out of that town, a large body of troops 
 surrounding a body of guards, in the midst of which was Don 
 PhUip in person, going a very round trot, looking down, and 
 pale as ashes. The army was in too much confusion to take 
 notice of us, and the night favouring us, we got into the town, 
 but, when we came there, it was impossible to find any lodg- 
 ing, all the inns being filled with wounded Spaniards. The 
 Count went to the governor, and asked a chamber for a Vene- 
 tian lady, which he granted very readily; but there was 
 nothing in it but the bare walls, and in less than a quarter of 
 an hour after the whole house was empty both of furniture 
 
 ' See Memoir of Lady Mary j)refixed to thia edition, vol, i. p. 43. — T. 
 
150 COERESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 and people, the governor flying into the citadel, and carrying 
 with him all his goods and family^ We were forced to pass 
 the night without beds or supper. About daybreak the vic- 
 torious Germans entered the town. The Count went to wait 
 on the generals, to whom, I believe, he had a commission. 
 He told them my name, and there was no sort of honour or 
 civility they did not pay me. They immediately ordered me 
 a guard of hussars (which was very necessary in the present 
 disorder), and sent me refreshments of all kinds. Next day 
 I was visited by the Prince of Badin Dourlach, the Prince 
 Loiiestein, and all the principal officers, with whom I passed 
 for a heroine, showing no uneasiness, though the cannon of 
 the citadel (where was a Spanish garrison) played very briskly. 
 I was forced to stay there two days for want of post-horses, 
 the postmaster being fled, with all his servants, and the 
 Spaniards having seized all the horses they could find. At 
 length I set out from thence the 19th instant, with a strong 
 escort of hussars, meeting with no further accident on the 
 road, except at the little town of Vogherra, where they refused 
 post-horses, till the hussars drew their sabres. The 20th I 
 arrived safe here. It is a very pretty place, where I intend 
 to repose myself at least during the remainder of the summer. 
 This journey has been very expensive ; but I am very glad I 
 have made it. I am now in a neutral country, under the pro- 
 tection of Venice. The Doge is our old friend Grimani, and 
 I do not doubt meeting with all sort of civility. When I set 
 out I had so bad a fluxion on my eyes, I was really afraid of 
 losing them : they are now quite recovered, and my health 
 better than it has been of some time. I hope yours continues 
 good, and that you will always take care of it. Direct for me 
 at Brescia by way of Venice. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Brescia, Nov. 24, N.S. [1746]. 
 
 I BRAGGED too soon of my good health, which lasted but 
 two days after my last letter. I was then seized with so 
 violent a fever that I am surprised a woman of my age could 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AKD OTHERS. 151 
 
 be capable of it. I have kept my bed two months, and am 
 now out of it but a few hours in the day. I did not mention 
 in my last (thinking it an insignificant circumstance) that 
 Count Palazzo had wrote to his mother (without my know- 
 ledge) to advertise her of my arrival. She came to meet me 
 in her coach and six, and it was impossible to resist her im- 
 portunity of going to her house, where she would keep me, till 
 I had found a lodging to my liking. I had chose one when I 
 wrote to you, and counted upon going there the beginning of 
 the week following, but my violent iUness (being, as all the 
 physicians thought, in the utmost danger) made it utterly im- 
 possible. The Countess Palazzo has taken as much care of 
 me as if I had been her sister, and omitted no expense or 
 trouble to serve me. I am still with her, and indeed in no 
 condition of moving at present. I am now in a sort of milk 
 diet, which is prescribed me to restore my strength. From 
 being as fat as Lady Bristol, I am grown leaner than any- 
 body I can name. For my own part, I think myself in a 
 natural decay. However, I do what I am ordered. I know 
 not how to acknowledge enough my obligations to the countess ; 
 and I reckon it a great one from her who is a divote, that she 
 never brought any priest to me. My woman, who is a zealous 
 French Huguenot, I believe would have tore his eyes out. 
 During my whole illness it seemed her chief concern. I hope 
 your health continues good. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 [Came to London, Tuesday, April 14th, 1747, O.S. ; came to Welbeck, 
 Thuraday, AprU 16th, 1747, O.S.] 
 
 Brescia, March 1, N.S. [1747]. 
 
 Deaeest Madam, — Your ladyship's obliging letter of Ja- 
 nuary 17th, O.S., came to me yesterday; it gave me great 
 pleasure, and at the same time mortification on reflecting that 
 you should suffer so much uneasiness on my account. I am 
 now (I think I may say) quite recovered, which is almost a 
 miracle. I believe few people of my age ever did, of so severe 
 and so long a fit of sickness. I hope you think me in the 
 
152 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 right in leaving Avignon, which is now all fuU of miserable 
 refugees ; France I should not have been permitted to stay in, 
 and I am quiet in a republic that is in our alliance, which 
 is all the present aim that I have. Your ladyship says nothing 
 of your own health ; I flatter myself it is good ; I beg. of you 
 that you will never give yourself any concern about mine. My 
 life is useless to the world, and (almost) tiresome to myself. 
 
 I did not know Mrs. Stanton was dead. I have so few cor- 
 respondents in England, that everything from thence is news 
 to me. I never received your ladyship's letter of August 23rd, 
 which I suppose was owing to my removal. That part of 
 Italy I passed in coming hither, has suffered so much by the 
 war, that it is quite different from when I left it. I wish every 
 Englishman was as sensible as I am of the terrible effects of 
 arbitrary government, some of the most plentiful parts of the 
 world being reduced to near a famine. This province, which 
 is free from troops, enriches itself by the poverty of its neigh- 
 bours, which occasions all provisions to be as dear as in Eng- 
 land. The carnival here has been very gay and magnificent ; 
 I had no share of either, being at that time confined to my 
 chamber, and having no taste for diversions of that nature. 
 In all situations I am ever, dearest madam, with the tenderest 
 affections of my heart, 
 
 Your ladyship's most faithful 
 
 And most obedient servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 £Came to London, Wednesday, July 15th, O.S. ; came to Welbeck, 
 Saturday, July 18tli, O.S.] 
 
 Brescia, July 1 [1747]. 
 
 Dearest Madam, — 'Tis so long since I have had the 
 honour of hearing from you, that I cannot help being in con- 
 cern for your health ; mine is much mended by the country 
 air, and the great regularity with which I live. I flatter my- 
 self it is the fault of the post, that I have not the happiness of 
 hearing from you. I pray for peace on many accounts, but 
 chiefly that our correspondence may become more certain. I 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 153 
 
 can say with truth 'tis the only pleasure of my life, and 'tis 
 no small one, to think I have a friend of your merit. 
 
 I am told Lord Coke' is married to Lady M. Campbell : I 
 knew him when he was at Venice, and beheve her economy 
 will be a very necessary ally to the expensiveness of his 
 temper. Mr. Wortley (who is the only correspondent I have 
 in London except my daughter) tells me you have made Wel- 
 beck a very delightful place : it was always so by the situa- 
 tion, I do not doubt of the improvement by your good taste. 
 If wishes had the power of conveying the person, your lady- 
 ship would soon see me there, but I fear there is not so much 
 felicity in store for me. God's will be done 1 wherever I am, 
 I can never be other than, with the tenderest affection, 
 
 Your ladyship's most faithful devoted servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Lovere, July 24, N.S. [1747]. 
 
 Dear Child, — I am now in a place the most beautifully 
 romantic I ever saw in my hfe : it is the Tunbridge of this 
 part of the world, to which I was sent by the doctor's order, 
 my ague often returning, notwithstanding the loads of bark I 
 have taken. To say truth, I have no reason to repent my 
 journey, though I was very unwiUing to undertake it, it being 
 forty miles, half by land and half by water ; the land so stony 
 I was almost shook to pieces, and I had the ill luck to be sur- 
 prised with a storm on the lake, that if I had not been near a 
 little port (where I passed a night in a very poor inn), the 
 vessel must have been lost. A fair wind brought me hither 
 next morning early. I found a very good lodging, a great 
 deal of good company, and a village in many respects resem- 
 bling Tunbridge Wells, not only in the quality of the waters, 
 which is the same, but in the manner of the buildings, most 
 of the houses being separate at Httle distances, and all built 
 on the sides of hUls, which indeed are far different from those 
 
 ' Edward Lord Coke, only son of Thomas Earl of Leicester, married Mary, 
 daughter of John Duke of Argyll, in the spring of 1747. — W. See note on letter 
 to the Countess of Bute, j>03(, p. 182. — T. 
 
154 COEBESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 of Tunbridge, being six times as high : they are really vast 
 rocks of different figures, covered vyith green moss, or short 
 grass, diversified by tufts of trees, little woods, and here and 
 there vineyards, but no other cultivation, except gardens like 
 those on Eichmond-hill. The whole lake, which is twenty- 
 five miles long, and three broad, is all surrounded with these 
 impassable mountains, the sides of which, towards the bottom, 
 are so thick set with villages (and in most of them gentle- 
 men's seats), that I do not believe there is anywhere above a 
 mile distance one from another, which adds very much to the 
 beauty of the prospect. 
 
 We have an opera here, which is performed three times in 
 , the week. I was at it last night, and should have been sur- 
 prised at the neatness of the scenes, goodness of the voices, 
 and justness of the actors, if I had not remembered I was in 
 Italy. Several gentlemen jumped into the orchestra, and 
 joined in the concert, which I suppose is one of the freedoms 
 of the place, for I never saw it in any great town. I was yet 
 more amazed (while the actors were dressing for the farce 
 that concluded the entertainment) to see one of the principal 
 among them, and as errant a petit maitre as if he had passed 
 all his life at Paris, mount the stage, and present us with a 
 cantata of his own performing. He had the pleasure of being 
 almost deafened with applause. The ball began afterwards, 
 but I was not vntness of it, having accustomed myself to such 
 early hours, that I was half asleep before the opera finished : 
 it begins at ten o'clock, so that it was one before I could get 
 to bed, though I had supped before I went, which is the 
 custom. 
 
 I am much better pleased with the diversions on the water, 
 where all the tovm assembles every night, and never without 
 music ; but we have none so rough as trumpets, kettle-drums, 
 and French horns : they are all violins, lutes, mandolins, and 
 flutes doux. Here is hardly a man that does not excel in 
 some of these instruments, which he privately addresses to the 
 lady of his affections, and the public has the advantage of it 
 by his adding to the number of the musicians. 
 
 The fountain where we drink the waters rises between two 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 155 
 
 hanging hills, and is overshadowed with large trees, that ^ve 
 a freshness in the hottest time of the day. The provisions 
 are all excellent, the fish of the lake being as large and well 
 tasted as that of Geneva, and the mountains abounding in 
 game, particularly blackcocks, which I never saw in any 
 other part of Italy : but none of the amusements here would 
 be so effectual to raising my spirits as a letter from you. I 
 have received none since that of February 27. I do not blame 
 you for it, but my ill fortune, that will not let me have that 
 consolation. The newspaper informs me that the Chevalier 
 Gray (so he is styled) is appointed minister at Venice.' I 
 wish you would let me know who he is, intending to settle om? 
 correspondence through his hands. I did not care to ask that 
 favour of Lord Holdemesse.^ 
 
 Dear child, I am ever your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compHments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all your little 
 ones. Direct as usual. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 [Came to London, Monday, Oct. 12th, O.S. ; received at Welbeck, 
 Thursday, Oct. 15th, O.S. 1747.] 
 
 Brescia, Sept. 1 [1747]. 
 
 Dearest Madam, — This is the fourth letter I have wrote 
 since I have had the honour of yours, and am in so much pain 
 for your health, that I have little enjoyment in the recovery 
 of my own. I am willing to flatter myself that your silence 
 is occasioned by the irregularity of the post, which this un- 
 happy war often interrupts : the fear of this never reaching 
 you, puts a great damp on my writing ; yet I could not be 
 easy without endeavouring (at least) to give you my repeated 
 
 ' Horace Walpole's aristocratic prejudice appears to have been rudely shocked 
 by the appointment. In aletter to bis friend. Sir Horace Mann, dated Jan. 28, 1754, 
 he writes ; " What weight do you think family has here when the very last minister 
 whom we have dispatched is Sir James Gray — nay, and who has already been in a 
 public character at Venice ? His father was first a boxkeeper, and then footman 
 to James the Second." Sir James was one of the party of diners who were popu- 
 larly believed to have thrown a calf's head in a napkin out of a tavern window in 
 Suffolk-street, on the 30th of January, 1735, as an insult to the memory of King 
 Charles. The aifair led to' a riot. See letters of A. Smyth and Lord Middlesex, 
 in Appendix to Mr. Singer's edition of Spence's Anecdotes. — T. 
 
 ^ Robert fourth Earl of Holdernesse. He was appointed in 1744 ambassador 
 extraordinary to Venice, which place he quitted in 1746. — T, 
 
156 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 assm-ances of that everlasting affection I shall always feel for 
 your ladyship, which you so highly deserve, and have by so 
 many obligations acquired. I have lived this eight months in 
 the country, after the same manner (in little) that I fancy 
 you do at Welbeck, and find so much advantage from the air 
 and quiet of this retreat, that I do not think of leaving it. I 
 walk and read much, but have very Httle company except that 
 of a neighbouring convent. I do what good I am able in the 
 village round me, which is a very large one ; and have had so 
 much success, that I am thought a great physician, and should 
 be esteemed a saint if I went to mass. My house is a very 
 convenient one, and if I could have your ladyship's dear con- 
 versation, I may truly say my life would be very comfortable : 
 that is a melancholy thought, when I reflect on the impossi- 
 bility of that happiness being obtained by (dearest madam) 
 Your most faithfully devoted humble servant. 
 Be pleased to direct to Brescia par Venise. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Brescia, Dec. 17, N.S. [1747]. 
 
 Deak Child, — I received yours of October 14th but yes- 
 terday: the negligence of the post is very disagreeable. I 
 have at length had a letter from Lady Oxford, by which I find 
 mine to her has miscarried, and perhaps the answer which I 
 have now wrote may have the same fate. 
 
 I wish you joy of your young sou:' may he live to be 
 a blessing to you. I find I amuse myself here in the 
 same manner as if at London, according to your account 
 of it; that is, I play at whist every night with some 
 old priests that I have taught it to, and are my only com- 
 panions. To say truth, the decay of my sight will no longer 
 suffer me to read by candlelight, and the evenings are now 
 long and dark, that I am forced to stay at home. I beHeve 
 you'll be persuaded my gaming makes nobody uneasy, when I 
 tell you that we play only a penny per comer. 'Tis now a 
 year that I have lived wholly in the country, and have no de- 
 
 ' James Archibald Stuart, second eon of the Earl of Bute, the anceatorof Lord 
 Wharnoliffe. He was bom September 19th, 1747. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 157 
 
 sign of quitting it. I am entirely given up to rural amuse- 
 ments, and have forgot there are any such things as wits or 
 fine ladies in the world. However, I am pleased to hear what 
 happens to my acquaintance. I M'ish you would inform me 
 what is become of the Pomfret family, and who Sir Francis 
 Dashwood has married.' I knew him at Florence : he seemed 
 so nice in the choice of a wife, I have some curiosity to know 
 who it is that has had charms enough to make him enter into 
 an engagement he \ised to speak of with fear and trembling. 
 I am ever, dear child, your most affectionate mother. 
 My service to Lord Bute, and blessing to my grand- 
 children. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Brescia, Jan. 5 [1748]. 
 
 Dear Child, — I am glad to hear that yourself and family 
 are in good health; as to the alteration you say you find 
 in the world, it is only owing to your being better acquainted 
 with it. I have never in all my various travels seen but two 
 sorts of people, and those very like one another ; I mean men 
 and women, who always have been, and ever will be, the same. 
 The same vices and the same follies have been the fruit of all 
 ages, though sometimes under different names. I remember, 
 when I returned from Turkey, meeting with the same affecta- 
 tion of youth amongst my acquaintance that you now mention 
 amongst yours, and I do not doubt but your daughter will 
 find the same, twenty years hence, among hers. One of the 
 greatest happinesses of youth is the ignorance of evil, though 
 it is often the ground of great indiscretions, and sometimes 
 the active part of life is over before an honest mind finds out 
 how one ought to act in such a world as this. I am as much 
 removed from it as it is possible to be on this side the grave ; 
 which is from my own inclination, for I might have even here 
 a great deal of company ; the way of living in this province 
 being what I believe it is now in the sociable part of Scotland, 
 
 ' He married Sarah, daughter and co-heir of Thomaa Gould, Esq., of Ivor, 
 county of Bucks, and widow of Sir Richard Ellis, Bart. — D. Horace Walpole, in 
 a letter to Sir Horace Mann, dated 6th of March, 1746, speaks of " Sir Francis 
 Dashwood's new wife, a poor forlorn Presbyterian prude." — T. 
 
158 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 and was in England a hundred years ago. I had a visit in 
 the beginning of these holidays of thirty horse of ladies and 
 gentlemen, with their servants (by the way, the ladies all ride 
 like the late Duchess of Cleveland). They came with the 
 kind intent of staying with me at least a fortnight, though I 
 had never seen any of them before ; but they were all neigh- 
 bours within ten miles round. I could not avoid entertaining 
 them at supper, and by good luck had a large quantity of 
 game in the house, which, with the help of my poultry, fur- 
 nished out a plentiful table. I sent for the fiddles, and they 
 were so obliging as to dance all night, and even dine with me 
 next day, though none of them had been in bed ; and were 
 much disappointed I did not press them to stay, it being the 
 fashion to go in troops to one another's houses, hunting and 
 dancing together a month in each castle. I have not yet re- 
 turned any of their visits, nor do not intend it of some time, 
 to avoid this expensive hospitality. The trouble of it is not 
 very great, they not expecting any ceremony. I left the room 
 about one o'clock, and they continued their ball in the saloon 
 above stairs, without being at all offended at my departure. 
 But the greatest diversion I had vv^as to see a lady of my own 
 age comfortably dancing with her own husband, some years 
 older ; and I can assert that she jumps and gallops with the 
 best of them.^ 
 
 May you always be as well satisfied with your family as 
 you are at present, and your children return in your age the 
 tender care you have of their infancy. I know no greater 
 happiness that can be wished for you by your most affectionate 
 mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to my grand- 
 children. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 LoTere [February 2, N.S., 1748]. 
 
 YoUKS of the 1st of December, O.S., came to me this 
 morning, February 2, N.S. I hope your health continues 
 good, since you say nothing to the contrary. I think the 
 
 ' Portions of thia paragraph in the original are now torn off. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 159 
 
 Duchess of Manchester's silence is the most reasonable part 
 of her conduct ; complainers are seldom pitied^ and boasters 
 yet seldomer behoved. Her retirement is, in my opinion, no 
 proof either of her happiness or discontent, since her appear- 
 ance in the world can never be pleasing to her, having sense 
 enough to know 'tis impossible for her to make a good figure 
 in it,^ I was shown at Genoa an ode on Ch, Oh.,^ as a pro- 
 duction of Dr. Broxholme. I own I thought it much m his 
 style, and am apt to believe (from what I know of Sir Oh, 
 H.^) he is more likely to have the vanity to father it, than the 
 
 > The Duchess of Manchester mixed very little with the world after her mar- 
 riage to Mr. Hussey, one of those nine days' wonders which never fail to put all 
 idle tongues in motion. The satirical lines of Hanbury Williams are well known : 
 
 " Sunk is her power, her sway is o'er ; 
 She'll be no more ador'd — no more 
 
 Shine forth the public care. 
 Oh, what a falling off is here, 
 From her whose frown made wisdom fear, 
 Whose scorn begot despair." 
 
 Their worthless author had married a friend of hers, Lady Frances Coningsby, 
 the only child of Lord Coningsby ; and he used her as moths that fly into a candle, 
 and as heiresses that marry rakes are pretty sure to be used. Something made 
 him suspect the duchess of spiriting her up to resistance ; a piece of hostility 
 which he revenged by levelling at her grace the shafts of his wit, even before her 
 extraordinary match provoked ridicule. Extraordinary it must be called; yet Mr. 
 Hussey was a gentleman of birth and fortune ; and as he descended maternally 
 from the Duchess of Tyrconnel (Grammont's Belle Jennings, sister to the Duchess 
 of Marlborough), he was likewise her own relation. But then she stood on the 
 topmost height both of fashion and quality ; and had ever piqued herself upon 
 being more delicate, more fastidious, in modem cant more exclusive, than the finest 
 of the fine ladies her compeers. In short, she seemed a person whom few men, 
 and those only of the highest class in situation and talents, might dare to look up 
 to. Therefore her accepting a wild Irishman, younger than herself, utterly un- 
 known to all her set of company, and differing widely from them in habits and 
 manners, did unavoidably astonish the world, and set the wicked part of it 
 a-laughing. The laugh, however, was checked when the Irishman, who could 
 build no rhymes, drew hia sword in answer to Sir Charles Hanbury's odes ; and 
 the wit, absconding, chose to lie concealed tUl the storm blew over. The duchess, 
 as it appears from Lady Mary's observations, had the wisdom to be silent about 
 the success of her venture. But, perhaps, the act which diverted her neighbours, 
 secured a reasonable share of happiness for herself; since her husband, without 
 the niceties of refinement, bad a warm heart and a high sense of honour, which 
 led him to treat her affectionately ; and to show a scrupulous regard to her wishes, 
 even after decease. He was created Lord Beaulieu in 1762. — W. Other autho- 
 ritiea give a different account of the affair with Mr. Hussey. See Works of Sir 
 C. H. Williams, 1822. Preface, p. 9.— T. 
 
 2 Charles Churchill. This probably refers to Sir Charles's verses, entitled 
 " General Churchill's Address to Venus. Written in December, 1739 ;" Mr. 
 ChurchiU being just then made deputy ranger of St. James's Park, under Lord 
 Weymouth. — T. 
 
 * Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, according to the report of those who remem- 
 
160 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 wit to -write it. I have seen heaps of his poetry, but nothing 
 to distinguish him from the tribe of common versifiers. The 
 last I saw was an ode addressed to Mr. Dodington on liis 
 courtship to the late D. [Duchess] of Argyll ; those two you 
 mention have never reached me. I should be very much 
 obliged if you would send me copies of them. 
 
 The winter here begun with the last month ; the snow is still 
 on the ground in some places, but the air much softened, and 
 we reckon the spring begun. I hear the new opera at Brescia 
 is much applauded, and intend to see it before the end of the 
 carnival. The people of this province are much at their ease 
 during the miseries which the war occasions their neighbours, 
 and employ all their time in diversions. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Feb. 3, N.S. [1748]. 
 
 My dear Child, — I return you thanks for the news you 
 send me. I am always amused with changes and chances 
 that happen amongst my acquaintance. I pity the Duchess 
 of Devonshire, and admire the greatness of mind that makes 
 her refuse an addition to her own estate ; but am surprised 
 she can relinquish the care of her children, who are yet un- 
 settled. Lady Thanet's behaviour has always been without 
 any regard to public censure ; but I am ever astonished (though 
 I have frequently seen it) that women can so far renounce all 
 decency, as to endeavour to expose a man whose name they 
 bear. Lady Burlington' has made a lucky choice for her 
 daughter. I am well acquainted with Lord Hartington,'' and 
 I do not know any man so fitted to make a wife happy : with 
 so great a vocation for matrimony, that I verily believe, if it 
 had not been established before his time, he would have had 
 the glory of the invention. 
 
 bered him, was so pompons and heavy in conversation, that some time passed before 
 the world could believe him the author of such lively and spirited verses as the 
 " Satires on Sir Robert Walpole's Successors," &c. &c. — W. 
 
 • Lady Burlington was a sister of Lady Thanet. — T. 
 
 " William Lord Hartington, afterwards fourth Duke of Devonshire, was mar- 
 ried to Charlotte, daughter and sole heiress of Richard Earl of Burlington, on the 
 28th of March, 1748.— T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. IGl 
 
 I hear the carnival is very bright at Brescia. I have not 
 yet been to partake of it, but I intend to go to the opera, which 
 I hear much commended. Some ladies in the neighbourhood 
 favoured me last week with a visit in masquerade. They 
 were all dressed in white like vestal virgins, with garlands in 
 their hands. They came at night with violins and flambeaux, 
 but did not stay more than one dance ; pursuing their way to 
 another castle some miles from hence. I suppose you are no-\v 
 in London ; wherever you are you have the good wishes of 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to my grand- 
 children. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Brescia,' April 24, N.S. [1748]. 
 
 I RETURN you many thanks for yours of March 21, in 
 which were the copies of S'' Ch. H.'s [Sir Charles Hanbury 
 WilUams's] poetry, which extremely entertained me. I find 
 tar-water^ succeeded to Ward's drop.^ 'Tis possible, by 
 this time, that some other quackery has taken place of that ; 
 the English are easier than any other nation infatuated by 
 the prospect of imiversal medicines, nor is there any country 
 in the world where the doctors raise such immense fortunes. 
 I attribute it to the fund of credulity which is in all mankind. 
 We have no longer faith in miracles and relics, and therefore 
 with the same fury run after recipes and physicians. The same 
 money which three hundred years ago was given for the 
 health of the soul is now given for the health of the body, and 
 by the same sort of people — women and half-witted men. In 
 the countries where they have shrines and images, quacks are 
 
 ■ This and the following letter were probably written from Lovere. Lady Mary 
 explains in another letter that she was in the habit of dating from Brescia when 
 not actually residing there — that being the post town. — T. 
 
 2 The history of the once fashionable panacea, tar-water, whose virtues were 
 unfolded in Bishop Berkeley's " Siris," is well known. The remark in the text 
 was no doubt suggested by Sir Charles Hanbury WUliams's " Tar-water, a Ballad, 
 inscribed to the Right Honourable Philip Earl of Chesterfield." — T. 
 
 * Ward and his drop were patronised by Queen Caroline, and therefore did not, 
 of course, lack believers less eminent. Ward amassed a large fortune, with which 
 he retired to Italy. — T. 
 
 TOL. II. M 
 
162 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 despised, and monks and confessors find their account in ma^ 
 naging the fear and hope which rule the actions of the multi- 
 tude. 
 
 I should be extremely pleased if I could entirely depend 
 on Lord Sandwich's account of our son. As I am wholly 
 unacquainted with him, I cannot judge how far he may be 
 either deceived or interested. I know my son (if not much 
 altered) is capable of giving bonds for more than he will ever 
 be worth in the view of any present advantage. Lord Bute 
 and my daughter's conduct may be owing to the advice of the 
 D. of Argyll. It was a maxim of Sir R. Walpole's that 
 whoever expected advancement should appear much in public. 
 He used to say, whoever neglected the world would be 
 neglected by it, though I believe more families have been 
 ruined than raised by that method. 
 
 If I was not afraid of tiring you with the length of my 
 letter, I would give you the history of an Lish conquest at 
 Avignon, more extraordinary, all circumstances considered, 
 than Mr. Hussey's, the irresistible lover being some years 
 past threescore. I own the vexation of that foolish adventure 
 gave the finishing stroke to my dislike of that town, having a 
 real kindness for the young lady that fiung herself away. She 
 was daughter to Mr. Carter, whom I think you knew, a relar- 
 tion of Lady Bellasis. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 
 [Came to London, May 21st, O.S., Saturday; received at Welbeck, 23rd, O.S., 
 
 Monday.] 
 
 Brescia, April 27, N.S. [1748]. 
 
 Deaeest Madam, — It is so long since I have had the hap- 
 piness of hearing from you, I cannot forbear writing, though 
 perhaps this letter may have the same fate of those that have 
 preceded it. I received one from my daughter but a few days 
 ago, that was dated in September: Mr. Wortley writes me 
 word that she has changed her retired way of fife, and is 
 much in public ; I wish it may be to her advantage. I hope 
 the Duchess of Portland and her family continue in perfect 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 163 
 
 health; I do not fear your ladyship's receiving any trouble 
 from her, if she gives you none by her sickness. The real 
 part I take in everything that concerns you, gives me a share 
 in every branch of your prosperity ; I have a pleasure in all 
 your improvements at Welbeck, when I hear them com- 
 mended, though I shall never see them : 'tis almost the only 
 attachment I have in this vrorld, being every day (as it is fit I 
 should) more and more weaned from it. I hope your silence 
 is only occasioned by the irregularity of the post, which I can- 
 not expect to see reformed while the war continues. Notwith- 
 standing my indifference for other things, your friendship and 
 health will ever be tenderly dear to, madam, 
 
 Yoiu- ladyship's most faithful obedient servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 May 10, N.S. [1748]. 
 
 I GIVE you thanks, dear child, for your entertaining ac- 
 count of your present diversions. I find the public calamities 
 have no influence on the pleasures of the town. I remember 
 very well the play of the Revenge,i having been once ac- 
 quainted with a party that intended to represent it (not one 
 of which is novy alive). I wish you had told me who acted the 
 principal parts. I suppose Lord Bute was Alonzo, by the 
 magnificence of his dress.^ I think they have mended their 
 choice in the Orphan : I saw it played at Westminster school, 
 where Lord Erskine was Monimia, and then one of the most 
 beautiful figures that could be seen. I have had here (in low 
 life) some amusements of the same sort. I believe I wrote 
 
 ' Young's tragedy, performed for the first time in April, 1721. — T. 
 
 2 Lord Chesterfield, in his " Character" of Lord Bute, thus alludes to his pas- 
 sion for private dramatic performances : " He was the intendant of balls, the 
 Coryph^us of plays, in which he acted himself, and so grew into a sort of 
 favourite of that merry prince." [Frederick Prince of Wales.] So Horace Walpole 
 remarks, in his usual contemptuous way : " The Earl of Bute, a Scotchman, who 
 having no estates had passed his youth in studying mathematics and mechanics in 
 his own little island, then simples in the hedges about Twickenham, and at five- 
 and-thirty had fallen in love with his own figure, which he produced at mas- 
 querades in becoming dresses, and in plays which he acted in private with a 
 set of his own relations." — Memoirs of the Rei^n of King George II, From the 
 words " at five-and-thirty," this appears to refer to the very period at which this 
 letter is presumed to have been written. Lord Bute was born about 1713. — T. 
 
 M 2 
 
164 COKRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 you word I intended to go to the opera at Brescia ; but the 
 weather being cold, and the roads bad, prevented my' joiimey ; 
 and the people of this village (which is the largest I know : the 
 curate tells me he has two thousand communicants) presented 
 me a petition for leave to erect a theatre in my saloon. This 
 house has stood empty many years before I took it, and they 
 were accustomed to tui-n the stables into a playhouse every 
 carnival : it is now occupied by my horses, and they had no 
 other place proper for a stage. I easily complied with their 
 request, and was surprised at the beauty of their scenes, 
 which, though painted by a country painter, are better "co- 
 loured, and the perspective better managed, than in any of the 
 second-rate theatres in London. I liked it so well, it is not 
 yet pulled down. The performance was yet more surprising, 
 the actors being all peasants ; but the Italians have so natural 
 a genius for comedy, they acted as well as if they had been 
 brought up to nothing else, particularly the Arlequin, who far 
 surpassed any of owe English, though only the tailor of the 
 village, and I am assured never saw a play in any other place. 
 It is a pity they have not better poets, the pieces being not at 
 all superior to our drolls. The music, habits, and illumina- 
 tion were at the expense of the parish, and the whole enter- 
 tainment, which lasted the three last days of the carnival, cost 
 me only a barrel of wine, which I gave the actors, and is not 
 so dear as small beer in London. At present, as the old song 
 says, 
 
 " All my whole care 
 Is my farming affair, 
 To make my com grow, and my apple-trees bear." 
 
 My improvements give me great pleasure, and so much profit, 
 that if I could live a hundred years longer, I should certainly 
 provide for all my grandchildren : but, alas ! as the ItaHans say, 
 h'o sonato vingt ^ quatro 'ora .-' and it is not long I must ex- 
 pect to write myself your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to your little 
 ones. 
 
 ' So written in the original. — T. 
 
MR. WOKTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 165 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 [July 10, 1748.] 
 
 Dear Child, — I received yours of May the 12th but 
 yesterday, July the 9th. I am surprised you complain of my 
 silence. I have never failed answering yours the post after I 
 received them ; but I fear, being directed to Twickenham 
 (having no other direction from you), your servants there may 
 have neglected them. 
 
 I have been these six weeks, and still am, at my dairy- 
 house, which joins to my garden. I believe I have already 
 told you it is a long mile from the castle,^ which is situate in 
 the midst of a very large village, once a considerable town, 
 part of the walls still remaining, and has not vacant ground 
 enough about it to make a garden, which is my greatest 
 amusement, it being now troublesome to walk, or even go in 
 the chaise till the evening. I have fitted up in this farm-house 
 a room for myself — that is to say, strewed the floor with rushes, 
 covered the chimney with moss and branches, and adorned 
 the room with basins of earthenware (which is made here to 
 great perfection) filled with flowers, and put in some straw 
 chairs, and a couch bed, which is my whole furniture. This 
 spot of ground is so beautiful, I am afraid you will scarce 
 credit the description, which, however, I can assure you, shall 
 be very literal, without any embelHshment from imagination. 
 It is on a bank, forming a kind of peninsula, raised from the 
 river Ogho fifty feet, to which you may descend by easy stairs 
 cut in the turf, and either take the air on the river, which is 
 as large as the Thames at Richmond, or by walking [in] an 
 avenue two hundred yards on the side of it, you find a wood 
 of a hundred acres, which was all ready cut into walks and 
 ridings when I took it. I have only added fifteen bowers in 
 different views, with seats of turf. They were easily made, here 
 being a large quantity of underwood, and a great number of 
 vnld vines, which twist to the top of the highest trees, and from 
 
 > By the " castle," Lady Mary means the " chateau," or " shell of a palace," in 
 which she lived, and which she bought soon afterwards. See letter to Lady 
 Oxford of November 29 [1748], ^josi, p. 171.— T. 
 
166 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 which they make a very good sort of wine they call brusco. I 
 am now writing to yon in one of these arbours, which is so 
 thickly shaded, the sun is not troublesome, even at noon. 
 Another is on the side of the river, where I have made a 
 camp kitchen, that I may take the fish, dress, and eat it im- 
 mediately, and at the same time see the barks, which ascend 
 or descend every day to or from Mantua, Guastalla, or Pont 
 de Vie, all considerable towns. This little wood is carpeted, 
 in their succeeding seasons, with violets and strawberries, in- 
 habited by a nation of nightingales, and filled with game of 
 all kinds, excepting deer and wild boar, the first being un- 
 known here, and not being large enough for the other. 
 
 My garden was a plain vineyard when it came into my 
 hands not two years ago, and it is, with a small expense, 
 turned into a garden that (apart from the advantage of the 
 climate) I like better than that of Kensington. The Italian 
 vineyards are not planted like those in France, but in clumps, 
 fastened to trees planted in equal ranks (commonly fruit-trees), 
 and continued in festoons from one to another, which I have 
 turned into covered galleries of shade, that I can walk in the 
 heat without being incommoded by it. I have made a dining- 
 room of verdure, capable of holding a table of twenty covers ; 
 the whole ground is three hundred and seventeen feet in 
 length, and two hundred in breadth. You see it is far from 
 large ; but so prettily disposed (though I say it), that I never 
 saw a more agreeable rustic garden, abounding with all sort 
 of fruit, and produces a variety of wines. I would send you 
 a piece \_sic\ if I did not fear the customs would make you 
 pay too dear for it. I believe my description gives you but an 
 imperfect idea of my garden. Perhaps I shall succeed better 
 in describing my manner of life, which is as regular as that 
 of any monastery. I generally rise at six, and as soon as I 
 have breakfasted, put myself at the head of my weeder [_sic] 
 women and work with them till nine. I then inspect my dairy, 
 and take a turn among my poultry, which is a very large in- 
 quiry. I have, at present, two hundred chickens, besides 
 turkeys, geese, ducks, and peacocks. All things have hitherto 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 167 
 
 prospered under my care ; my bees and silkworms are doubled, 
 and I am told that, without accidents, my capital will be so in 
 two years' time. At eleven o'clock I retire to my books : I dare 
 not indulge myself in that pleasure above an hour. At twelve 
 I constantly dine, and sleep after dinner till about three. I 
 then send for some of my old priests, and either play at piquet 
 or whist, till 'tis cool enough to go out. One evening I walk 
 in my wood, where I often sup, take the air on horseback the 
 next, and go on the water the third. The fishery of this part 
 of the river belongs to me ; and my fisherman's httle boat 
 (where I have a green lutestring awning) serves me for a 
 barge. He and his son are my rowers without any expense, 
 he being very well paid by the profit of the fish, which I give 
 him on condition of having every day one dish for my table. 
 Here is plenty of every sort of fresh-water fish (excepting 
 salmon) ; but we have a large trout so like it, that I, that have 
 almost forgot the taste, do not distinguish it. 
 
 We are both placed properly in regard to our different 
 times of hfe : you amidst the fair, the gallant, and the gay ; 
 I in a retreat, where I enjoy every amusement that solitude 
 can afford. I confess I sometimes wish for a little conversa- 
 tion ; but I reflect that the commerce of the world gives more 
 uneasiness than pleasmre, and quiet is all the hope that can 
 reasonably be indulged at my age. My letter is of an uncon- 
 scionable length ; I should ask your pardon for it, but I had a 
 mind to give you an idea of my passing my time,— take it as 
 an instance of the affection of, dear child. 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 My compUments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all my 
 grandchildren. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 July 17, N.S. [1748]. 
 
 YoUBS of June 7, O.S., came to my hands but yesterday. 
 I am very much vexed and surprised at the miscarriage of my 
 letters. I have never failed answering both yours and my 
 daughter's the very next post after I received them. I begin 
 
1 68 COREESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 to suspect my servants put the franking money in their 
 pockets, and threw away the letters. I have been in the 
 country this year and half, though I continued to date from 
 Brescia, as the place to which I would have directed, being, 
 though not the nearest, the safest post town : I send all my 
 packets thither, and will for the future enclose them to a 
 banker there, who I hope will be more careful in the forward- 
 ing them. 
 
 I am glad my daughter's conduct justifies the opinion I 
 always had of her understanding : I do not wonder at her 
 being well received in sets of company different from one 
 another, having myself preserved a long intimacy with the 
 Duchesses of Marlborough and Montagu, though they were at 
 open war, and perpetually talking of their complaints. I be- 
 lieve they were both sensible I never betrayed either ; each of 
 them giving me the strongest proofs of confidence in the last 
 conversations I had with them, which were the last I had in 
 England. What I think extraordinary is my daughter's con- 
 tinuing so many years agreeable to Lord Bute ; Mr. Mac- 
 kenzie telling me, the last time I saw him, that his brother 
 frequently said among his companions, that he was still as 
 much in love wdth his wife as before he married her. If the 
 princess's favour lasts, it may be of use to her family. I have 
 often been dubious if the seeming indifference of her high- 
 ness's behaviour was owing to very good sense, or great insen- 
 sibility : should it be the first, she will get the better of all her 
 rivals, and probably one day have a large share of power. 
 
 I send you my son's letter and a copy of my answer to it. 
 I should be glad to hear you approved it. 
 
 I am very much pleased that you accustom yourself to tea, 
 being persuaded that the moderate use of it is generally 
 wholesome. I have planted a great deal in my garden, which 
 is a fashion lately introduced in this country, and has suc- 
 ceeded very well. I cannot say it is as strong as the Indian, 
 but [it] has the advantage of being fresher, and at least un- 
 mixed. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 109 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Dairy-house, Ivdy 26, N.S. [1748]. 
 
 I AM really as fond of my garden as a young author of his 
 first play, when it has been well received by the town, and can 
 no more forbear teasing my acquaintance for their approba- 
 tion : though I gave you a long accoiint of it in my last, I 
 must tell you I have made two little terraces, raised twelve 
 steps each, at the end of my great walk ; they are just finished, 
 and a great addition to the beauty of my garden. I enclose 
 to you a rough draft of it,' drawn (or more properly scrawled) 
 by my own hand, without the assistance of rule or compasses, 
 as you will easily perceive. I have mixed in my espaliers as 
 many rose and jessamine trees as I can cram in ; and in the 
 squares designed for the use of the kitchen, have avoided 
 putting anything disagreeable either to sight or smell, having 
 another garden below for cabbage, onions, garlic, &c. All 
 the walks are garnished with beds of flowers, beside the par- 
 terres, which are for a more distinguished sort. I have neither 
 brick nor stone walls : all my fence is a high hedge, mingled 
 with trees ; but fruit [is] so plenty in this country, nobody 
 thinks it worth stealing. Gardening is certainly the next 
 amusement to reading ; and as my sight will now permit me 
 little of that, I am glad to form a taste that can give me so 
 much employment, and be the plaything of my age, now my 
 pen and needle are almost useless to me. 
 
 I am very glad you are admitted into the conversation of 
 the P. [Prince] and Ps. [Princess] :^ it is a favour that 
 you ought to cultivate for the good of the family, which 
 is now numerous, and it may one day be of great ad- 
 vantage. I think Lord Bute much in the right to endeavour 
 the continuance of it ; and it would be imprudent in you to 
 neglect what may be of great use to your children. I pray 
 God bless both you and them : it is the daily prayer of your 
 most affectionate mother. 
 
 ' A sketch of the house accompanies the original of this letter. — T. 
 
 ' Frederick Prince of Wales and his wife, the parents of George the Third. — T. 
 
170 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 Now the sea is open,^ we may send packets to one another. 
 I wish you would send me Campbell's book of prints of the 
 English houses,^ and that Lord Bute would be so good to 
 choose me the best book of practical gardening extant. 
 
 I shall trouble you with some more commissions ; but insist 
 on it that you would take from Child whatever money they 
 may come to. If [you] consign them to the English consul 
 at Venice directed to me, they will come very safe. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 [About September, 1748.] 
 
 It is very true, my dear child, we cannot now maintain 
 a family with the product of a flock, though I do not doubt 
 the present sheep afford as much wool and milk as any of their 
 ancestors, and it is certain our natural wants are not more nu- 
 merous than formerly ; but the world is past its infancy, and 
 will no longer be contented with spoon meat. Time has added 
 great improvements, but those very improvements have intro- 
 duced a train of artificial necessities. A collective body of 
 men make a gradual progress in understanding, like that of a 
 single individual. When I reflect on the vast increase of 
 useful, as well as speculative, knowledge the last three hun- 
 dred years has produced, and that the peasants of this age 
 have more conveniences than the first emperors of Rome had 
 any notion of, I imagine we are now arrived at that period 
 which answers to fifteen. I cannot think we are older, when 
 I recollect the many palpable follies which are stiU (almost) 
 imiversally persisted in : I place that of war amongst the most 
 glaring, being fully as senseless as the boxing of schoolboys, 
 and whenever we come to man's estate (perhaps a thousand 
 years hence), I do not doubt it will appear as ridiculous as the 
 pranks of unlucky lads. Several discoveries will then be 
 made, and several truths made clear, of which we have now 
 no more idea than the ancients had of the circulation of the 
 blood, or the optics of Sir I. Newton. 
 
 You will believe me in a very dull humour when I fill my 
 
 * The preliminaries of peace of France and Spain T\'ere signed at Aix-la-Cha- 
 pelle, in 1748. Lady Mary's son was appointed secretary to the embassy,. — T. 
 ^ Vitruvius Britannicus. — D. 
 
MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 171 
 
 letter with such whims, and indeed so I am. I have just re- 
 ceived the news of Sir J. Gray's departure, and am exceed- 
 ingly vexed I did not know of his designed journey. I sup- 
 pose he would have carried my token ;' and now I utterly de- 
 spair of an opportunity of sending it, and therefore enclose a 
 note on Child for the value of it. 
 
 When you see Lady Rich, pray do not fail to present my 
 thanks and compliments. I desire the same to everybody that 
 thinks it worth while to inquire after me. You mention a 
 Colonel Rich as her son ; I thought he had been killed in 
 Scotland. You see my entire ignorance of all English affairs, 
 and consequently, whatever you tell me of my acquaintance, 
 has the merit of novelty to me, who correspond with nobody 
 but yourself and Lady Oxford, whose retirement and ill health 
 does not permit her to send me much news. 
 
 I expect a letter of thanks from my granddaughter : I 
 wrote to my grandmother long before her age. I desire you 
 v?ould not see it, being willing to judge of her genius. I 
 know I shall read it with some partiahty, which I cannot avoid 
 to all that is yours, as I am your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 [Came to London, Jan. 18th, O.S., Monday; received at Welbeck, Jan. 21st, 
 Thursday.] 
 
 Nov. 29, N.S. [1748]. 
 
 Dearest Madam, — I received yesterday the most sensible 
 pleasure, by your obliging letter : it is impossible to tell you 
 what joy the sight of your ladyship's hand gave me, which was 
 very much heightened by the account of your health and con- 
 tinued goodness to me. I believe the air you are in is the 
 best in England, and I do not doubt but the tranquillity and 
 regularity of your life will re-estabHsh your constitution, 
 which is naturally a very good one, and only hurt by melan- 
 choly reflections, which I hope you will never more have any 
 occasion for. It is no diminution of the Duchess of Portland's 
 merit, to say you deserve whatever affection she can pay, 
 
 ' Lady Mary sent a jiresent annually to one of her giaiukhildren. — D. 
 
172 CORRESPONDENCK WITH 
 
 since those who do their duty can never be too much valued : 
 I sincerely share in the satisfaction you have in seeing that 
 she performs hers to you, it is the clearest proof of her good 
 sense and good mind : may you long be happy in one another ! 
 I am glad my daughter enjoys her conversation, which is m 
 every sense an honour and advantage. 
 
 I have bought the house I hve in, which, I suppose, you 
 will imagine Httle better than a house of office when I talk of 
 my purchasing, and indeed it has cost me little more than the 
 price of one ; but, to say truth, it is not much more than the 
 shell of a palace, which was built not above forty years ago, 
 but the master of it dying before it was quite finished, and 
 falling into hands that had many others, it has been wholly 
 neglected ; but being well built, the walls are perfectly sound, 
 and I amuse myself in fitting it up. I will take the liberty of 
 sending your ladyship a plan of it, which is far from mag- 
 nificent, but I believe you wiU be of my opinion, that it is one 
 of the most convenient you ever saw. The owners of it look- 
 ing upon it as only an expense to them, were pleased to part 
 with it for a trifle. I won't make you any excuses for 
 troubKng you with this long account of my little affairs ; your 
 friendship and good nature, I know, gives you a concern in all 
 that regards your ladyship's 
 
 Ever faithful and affectionate humble servant. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Dec. 25, N.S. [1748]. 
 
 I HOPE I have now regulated our correspondence in a 
 manner more safe than by Holland. I have sent a large 
 collection of letters to you and my daughter, which have all 
 miscarried ; neither have I had one line from either of some 
 months. 
 
 I am now assured by one of the principal merchants here, 
 that all those directed to Signor Isaac M. de Treves, k 
 Venezia, shall be carefully remitted, and I beg you would 
 make use of that direction. 
 
 I was surprised not many days ago by a very extraordinary 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 173 
 
 visit : it was from the Duchess of Guastalla, who you know 
 is a princess of the house d'Armstadt, and reported to be near 
 marriage with the King of Sardinia. I confess it was an 
 honour I could easily have spared, she coming attended with 
 the greatest part of her court; her grand-master, who is 
 brother to Cardinal Valenti, the first lady of her bed-chamber, 
 four pages, and a long et cetera of inferior servants, besides 
 her guards. She entered with an easy French air, and told 
 me, since I would not oblige her by coming to her court, she 
 was resolved to come to me, and eat a salad of my raising, 
 having heard much fame of my gardening. You may imagine 
 I gave her as good a supper as I could. She was (or seemed 
 to be) extremely pleased with an English sack-posset of my 
 ordering. I owned to her freely that my house was much at 
 her service, but it was impossible for me to find beds for all 
 her suite. She said she intended to return when the moon 
 rose, which was an hour after midnight. In the mean time I 
 sent for the violins to entertain her attendants, who were very 
 well pleased to dance, while she and her grand-master and I 
 played at piquet. She pressed me extremely to return with 
 her to her jointure-house, where she now resides (all the fur- 
 niture of Guastalla being sold). I excused myself on not 
 daring to venture in the cold night fifteen miles, but promised 
 I would not fail to pay her my acknowledgments for the great 
 honour her highness had done me, in a very short time, and 
 we parted very good friends. She said she intended this 
 spring to retire into her native country. I did not take the 
 liberty of mentioning to her the report of her being in treaty 
 vnth the King of Sardinia, though it has been in the news- 
 paper of Mantua ; but I found an opportunity of hinting 
 it to Signor Gonzagna, her grand-master, who told me the 
 duchess would not have been pleased to talk of it, since, 
 perhaps, there was nothing in it more than a friendship that 
 had long been between them, and since her widowhood the 
 king sends her an express every day. 
 
 I believe you'll wish this long story much shorter ; but I 
 think you seemed to desire me to lengthen my letters, and I 
 can have no greater pleasure than endeavouring to amuse you. 
 
174 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 [Received at Welbeck, Monday, Feb. 27th, 1748, O.S.] 
 
 [Feb. 2, N.S., 1749.'] 
 
 Dearest Madam, — I received this day, the 2nd of Fe- 
 bruary, N.S., the happiness of your ladyship's obhging letter of 
 December 17th; it has relieved me from the great anxiety I 
 was under in regard to your health. I have ever done you 
 the justice (during this long interruption of our correspond- 
 ence) of being persuaded you was incapable of forgetting 
 me ; or if sometimes my melancholy, joined with a conscious- 
 ness of my own unworthiness, suggested to me a contrary 
 thought, I presently corrected it, as not suited to that esteem 
 you so well deserve from me. I hope the good air of Wel- 
 beck has entirely re-established your health ; I should be un- 
 grateful to Heaven to complain of mine, which is indeed 
 better than I have reason to expect. I walk very much, I 
 sometimes ride, I amuse myself with a little garden that I 
 have made out of a vineyard ; and if I could enjoy your lady- 
 ship's conversation, I should not regret a world in which I 
 never had great pleasure, and have so little inclination to re- 
 turn to, that I do not even intend to see the new court which 
 is expected at Parma, though it is but ten miles from hence. 
 
 Dearest madam, continue to me the honour of writing to 
 me, and be assured that you can bestow your favours on no 
 person who is more sensible of their value than 
 
 Your ladyship's most faithfully devoted humble servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Feb. 19, N.S. [1749]. 
 
 My dear Child, — I gave you some general thoughts on 
 the education of your children in my last letter ; but fearing 
 you should think I neglected your request, by answering it 
 with too much conciseness, I am resolved to add to it what 
 little I know on that subject, and whi«h may perhaps be useful 
 to you in a concern with which you seem so nearly affected. 
 
 People commonly educate their children as they build their 
 houses, according to some plan they think beautiful, without 
 
 > This is evidently tlie true date. Lady Oxford, in her memorandum, dates ac- 
 cording to the ecclesiastical year. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 175 
 
 considering whether it is suited to the purposes for which they 
 are designed. Almost all girls of quality are educated as 
 if they were to be great ladies, which is often as little to be 
 expected, as an immoderate heat of the sun in the north of 
 Scotland. You should teach yours to confine their desires to 
 probabilities, to be as useful as is possible to themselves, and 
 to think privacy (as it is) the happiest state of life. I do not 
 doubt your giving them all the instructions necessary to form 
 them to a virtuous life ; but 'tis a fatal mistake to do this 
 without proper restrictions. Vices are often hid under the 
 name of virtues, and the practice of them followed by the 
 worst of consequences. Sincerity, friendship, piety, disinte- 
 restedness, and generosity, are all great virtues ; but, pursued 
 without discretion, become criminal. I have seen ladies indulge 
 their own ill humour by being very rude and impertinent, and 
 think they deserved approbation by saying I love to speak 
 truth. One of your acquaintance made a ball the next day 
 after her mother died, to show she was sincere. I beUeve your 
 own reflection will furnish you with but too many examples 
 of the ill effects of the rest of the sentiments I have men- 
 tioned, when too warmly embraced. They are generally re- 
 commended to young people without limits or distinction, and 
 this prejudice hurries them into great misfortunes, while they 
 are applauding themselves in the noble practice (as they 
 fancy) of very eminent virtues. 
 
 I cannot help adding (out of my real affection to you), I wish 
 you woxdd moderate that fondness you have for your children. 
 I do not mean you should abate any part of your care, or not 
 do your duty to them in its utmost extent : but I would have 
 you early prepare yoiurself for disappointments, which are 
 heavy in proportion to their being surprising. It is hardly 
 possible, in such a number, that none should be unhappy; 
 prepare yourself against a misfortune of that kind. I confess 
 there is hardly any more difficult to support ; yet it is certain 
 imagination has a great share in the pain of it, and it is more 
 in our power than it is commonly beUeved to soften whatever 
 ills are founded or augmented by fancy. Strictly speaking, 
 there is but one real evil — I mean, acute pain ; all other com- 
 
176 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 plaints are so considerably diminished by time, that it is plain 
 the grief is owing to our passion, since the sensation of it 
 vanishes when that is over. 
 
 There is another mistake, I forgot to mention, usual in 
 mothers : if any of their daughters are beauties, they take 
 great pains to persuade them that they are ugly, or at least 
 that they think so, which the young woman never fails to 
 believe springs from envy, and is perhaps not much in the 
 wrong. I would, if possible, give them a just notion of their 
 figure, and show them how far it is valuable. Every advan- 
 tage has its price, and may be either over or undervalued. It 
 is the common doctrine of (what are called) good books, to in- 
 spire a contempt of beauty, riches, greatness, &c., which has 
 done as much mischief among the young of our sex as an 
 over eager desire of them. They should not look on these 
 things as blessings where they are bestowed, though not ne- 
 cessaries that it is impossible to be happy without. I am per- 
 suaded the ruin of Lady F. pFrances] M. [Meadows]' was in 
 great measure owing to the notions given her by the silly good 
 people that had the care of her. 'Tis true, her circmnstances 
 and your daughters' are very different : they should be taught 
 to be content with privacy, and yet not neglect good fortune, 
 if it should be offered them. 
 
 I am afraid, I have tired you with my instructions. I do 
 not give them as beHeving my age has furnished me with 
 superior wisdom, but in compliance with your desire, and 
 being fond of every opportunity that gives a proof of the ten- 
 derness with which I am ever 
 
 Your affectionate mother. 
 
 ' Lady Frances Pierrepont, Lady Mary's niece. She married in April, 1734, 
 Philip, third son of Sir Philip Meadows. Mrs. Pendarves^ in a letter to Mrs, Ann 
 Granville, dated April 27, 1734, gives the following account of her elopement : 
 " The piece of news talked of is Lady Fanny Pierrepont's walking off with Mr. 
 Meadows at last. I was at the opera at Lincoln's Inn last Tuesday. She was 
 there (she was of age the day before), and Mr. Meadows sat at some distance from 
 her in the box before me. At the end of the first act she went out under pretence 
 of being sick. A young lady. Miss Wortley, daughter of Lady Mary, went out 
 with her, and returned in a quarter of an hour. Mr,Meadows staid some time, 
 and then marched off. Most people guessed what they were about, but dull I 
 who minded the music, made no reflexion on what passed, but next day it was 
 published. I own I think she was in the right to marry him, if she could not live 
 without a husband, for nobody else would have cared for her, notwithstanding her 
 twenty thousand pounds." — Autohiog. and Corresp. of Mrs. Delany.— t. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 177 
 
 I should be glad if you sent me the third volume of [Camp- 
 bell's] Architecture, and with it any other entertaining books. 
 I have seen the Ds. of Ms. [Marlborough's] Memoirs, but 
 should be glad of the "Apology for a late Resignation."^ As to 
 the ale, 'tis now so late in the year, it is impossible it should 
 come good. You do not mention your father ; my last letter 
 from him told me he intended soon for England. I am afraid 
 several of mine to him have miscarried, though directed as he 
 ordered. I have asked you so often the price of raw silk, that 
 I am weary of repeating it. However, I once more beg that 
 you would send me that information. 
 
 TO MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 March 6, N.S. [1749]. 
 
 I RECEIVED yours of January 23rd this morning with more 
 satisfaction than I can express, having been long in pain for 
 your silence. I never had that you mention of December 12th, 
 nor any other since the month of August; though I have 
 wrote six letters since that time, which convinces me that there 
 is no other safe method of corresponding but through the 
 hands of a banker at Venice, and therefore beg of you to con- 
 tinue to direct in the same manner as your last. It will be a 
 few days later and with a little more expense ; but I hope to 
 receive them more punctually, and there is nothing I would 
 not pay for that pleasure. I am very glad my daughter is 
 safely delivered. I did not so much as know she was with 
 child, having not heard from her of many months. I do not 
 question she has sent many letters ; but I have been so unfor- 
 tunate to receive none of them. I suppose mine to her (which 
 have been very long and frequent) have also miscarried. 
 
 We have hitherto had no winter, to the great sorrow of the 
 people here, who are in fear of wanting ice in the summer, 
 
 ' Lord ChesterBeld resigned the seals in February, 1747, and soon afterwards 
 published an anonjTnous pamphlet, entitled " An Apology for a late Resignation " 
 which is the publication to which Lady Mary refers. Horace Walpole says : " It 
 was supposed to be drawn up by Lord Marchmont under his direction, and wfis 
 ^■ery well written ; but to my Lnrd Chesterfield's great surprise neither his book, 
 nor his retirement, produced the least consequence." — Memoirs nf the Reign of 
 King George II., i. 51.— T. 
 
 VOL. II. N 
 
178 COEKESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 which is as necessary as hread. They also attribute a malig- 
 nant fever, which has carried off great numbers in the neigh- 
 bouring towns, to the uncommon warmth of the air. It has 
 not infected this village, which they say has ever been free 
 from any contagious distemper. It is very remarkable that 
 when the disease amongst the cattle raged with great violence 
 aU round, not one died or sickened here. The method of 
 treating the physician in this country, I think, should be the 
 same everywhere : they make it his interest that the whole 
 parish should be in good health, giving him a stated pension, 
 which is collected by a tax on every house, on condition he 
 neither demands nor receives any fees, nor even refuses a 
 visit either to rich or poor. This last article would be very 
 hard, if we had as many vapourish ladies as in England ; but 
 those imaginary ills are entirely unknown here. When I re- 
 collect the vast fortunes raised by doctors amongst us, and the 
 eager pursuit after every new piece of quackery that is intro- 
 duced, I cannot help thinking that there is a fund of credulity 
 in mankind that must be employed somewhere, and the money 
 formerly given to monks for the health of the soul, is now 
 thrown to doctors for health of the body, and generally with 
 as little real prospect of success. 
 
 I suppose the Sir Charles Wyndham you mention is younger 
 son of Sir William. I think I have heard the eldest named 
 John, who had no very good character. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MOKTAGU. 
 
 [Gotolengoi] April 24, N.S. [1749]. 
 C. Mutiua Sex : F. 
 P. Papilius M : F. 
 Q. Mutius P. F. 
 M. Cornelius P. F. 
 II II vir. Tiirrim Ex D D. 
 Ad augendam Locaver[e]. 
 Idemque Protavere. 
 
 This is a very fair inscription, in large characters, on a 
 large stone found in the pavement of the old church, and 
 makes now a part of the wall of the new one, which is now 
 
 ' Gotolengo is a small town ten or fifteen miles south of Brescia. — W. 
 
MR- WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 179 
 
 building. The people here, who are as ignorant as their oxen, 
 a,nd live like them on the product of their land, without any 
 curiosity for the history of it, would infer from thence that 
 this town is of Roman foundation, though the walls, which are 
 yet the greatest part standing (only the towers and battle- 
 ments demoUshed), are very plainly Gothic, and not one brick 
 to be found anywhere of Roman fabric, which is very easUy 
 distinguished. I can easily believe their tradition, that the old 
 church, which was pulled down two years ago, being ready to 
 drop, was a pagan temple, and do not doubt it was a consider- 
 able town, founded by the Goths, when they overran Italy. 
 The fortifications were strong for that age : the ditch still re- 
 maining without the walls being very broad and deep, in 
 which ran the little river that is now before my house, and 
 the moat turned into gardens for the use of the town, the 
 name of which being Gotolengo, is a confirmation of my con- 
 jecture. The castle, which certainly stood on the spot where 
 my house now does, being on an eminence in the midst of the 
 town, was probably destroyed by fire. When I ordered the 
 court to be levelled, which was grown uneven by long neglect, 
 there was found such quantities of burnt bricks, that plainly 
 showed the remains of a considerable fire ; but whether by the 
 enemy, or accidental, I could get no information. They have 
 no records, or parish books, beyond the time of their coming 
 under the Venetian dominion, which is not much above three 
 hundred years ago, at which time they were, as they now are, 
 a large village, being two miles in circuit, and contains [sic] at 
 present (as the curate told me) two thousand communicants. 
 The ladies of this neighbourhood that had given themselves 
 the trouble and expense of going to see Don Philip's entry 
 into Parma,! are returned, according to the French saying, 
 avec un pied de nez. As they had none of them ever seen a 
 court before, they had figured to themselves prodigious scenes 
 of gallantry and magnificence. 
 
 If I did not write by the post, I would tell you several par- 
 ticulars that I believe would make you laugh. He is retired 
 
 1 Dou PhUip made his entry into Parma in March, 1749. T. 
 
 N 2 
 
180 COKRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 into the country till the arrival of his princess, who is expected 
 in May next. 1 take the liberty of enclosing this to Lord 
 Bute, not knowing where to direct to him in London. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 [Received at Welbeck, Monday, June 5th, 1749, O.S.] 
 
 April 26, N.S. [1749]. 
 
 Dearest Madam, — Though I have received the happiness 
 of yours of the 25th of January very late, it being now the 
 26th of April, yet it gave me so much pleasure by the 
 assurance of your health and continued goodness to me, that I 
 can scarce complain of the delay. My letters have no value 
 but as coming from a heart sincerely yours, truly grateful 
 and sensible of your merit. I have had some fits of an ague 
 this spring, which distemper has been epidemical in this 
 country from the uncommon rains we have had ; I am now 
 very well recovered, though I have not yet ventured out of 
 the house, the weather being still wet and raw. "I believe it 
 will be safest to send the letters your ladyship honours me with 
 in a cover to Signer Isaac M. de Treves, k Venise. I hope 
 your flourishing family still continues in perfect health and 
 prosperity; I hear mine increases every year, and that my 
 daughter is much distinguished by her royal highness :^ I 
 flatter myself that she is always happy in the Duchess of 
 Portland's friendship, which I look upon as the greatest advan- 
 tage that she can enjoy in this world. I am entirely a stranger 
 to all other news in England : there is none in which I am so 
 much interested as that of your health, of which I beg to hear 
 often ; being ever (dearest madam) with the tenderest affec- 
 tion. 
 
 Your ladyship's most faithful devoted servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 May 7, N.S. [1749]. 
 
 Dear Child, — I have already wished you joy of your new 
 
 ' The Princess of Wales, mother of Georga III. — W. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 181 
 
 (laughter/ and wrote to Lord Bute to thank him for his letter. 
 I don't know whether I shall make my court to you in saying 
 it, but I o^vn I cannot help thinking that your family is nume- 
 rous enough, and that the education and disposal of four girls 
 is employment for a whole life. I remain in a retirement, 
 where my amusements are confined to my garden and dairy : 
 however, I should be glad to know, now and then, what is 
 doing among my acquaintance at London, and beg you would 
 inquire of the price raw silk bears. I have asked this question 
 very often, but suppose my letters have miscarried, having 
 never had any answer. Your father has been so obliging to 
 promise me some ale ; if you would send, at the same time, 
 Colin Campbell's books of Architecture, consigned to Signer 
 Isaac M. de Treves, it would come safe to me. I imagine the 
 D. [Duke] of Kingston is now building. I was told he in- 
 tended it on the same ground where the last house stood, 
 which I think an ill fancy, being the lowest part of the park, 
 and he might choose others with a prospect more agreeable, 
 which is, in my opinion, the first thing to be considered in a 
 country seat. I have given you a large description of that of 
 my dairy-house, which is the most beautiful of any in this 
 province ; if I knew it was lost, I would repeat it. 
 
 This letter is so dull I am ashamed to set my name to it. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 May 27, N.S. [1749]. 
 
 Deak Child, — I had the pleasure of your letter two days 
 ago, in which you tell me of the marriage of Mr. Mackenzie,** 
 which I was extremely glad to hear, wishing him happiness, 
 who I think so well deserves it, from an uncommon share of 
 honour and good nature, of which even his indiscretions are 
 proofs. The Duchess of Argyll has acted, in my opinion, 
 
 1 Lady Bute's fourth daughter, Lady Augusta Stuart, was bom in February, 
 1749.— T. 
 
 * James Stuart Mackenzie, only brother of John Earl of Bute, married Lady 
 Betty Campbell, second daughter of John Duke of Argyll. He died the 6th of 
 April, 1800.— D. 
 
182 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 with equal generosity and prudence : her ill success, in the 
 disposal of Lady M.,^ has shown her the mistake of interested 
 matches, which are generally unfortunate. This spring has 
 been very melancholy to me, having been tormented with a 
 quotidian ague, of which I am scarcely recovered; and my 
 woman, who is the most necessary servant in my family, still 
 afflicted with a tertian, which puts my whole house in dis- 
 order, and hinders my removal to my dairy, to my great mor- 
 tification, now the heats are begun. If my garden and my 
 house stood together, I would not change this seat for Lord 
 Tilney's or the Marqius of Rockingham's ; but, alas ! they are 
 some miles asimder. 
 
 Your new fashioned game of brag was the genteel amuse- 
 ment when I was a girl ; crimp succeeded to that, and basset 
 and hazard employed the town when I left it to go to Con- 
 stantinople. At my return, I found them all at commerce, 
 which gave place to quadrille, and that to whist ; but the rage 
 of play has been ever the same, and will ever be so among the 
 idle of both sexes. It is the same in every great town, and I 
 think more particularly all over France. Here is a young man 
 of quality, one mile from hence, just of age ■ (which is nine- 
 teen through all the Venetian state), who lost last carnival, at 
 Brescia, ten thousand pounds, being all the money his guar- 
 dians had laid up in his minority ; and, as his estate is en- 
 tailed, he cannot raise one farthing on it, and is now a sort of 
 prisoner in his castle, where he lives upon rapine — I mean 
 running in debt to poor people, who perhaps he will never be 
 able to pay. I am afraid you are tired with this insignificant 
 letter ; we old women love tattling ; you must forgive the in- 
 firmities of your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute and blessing to all yours. 
 
 ' Alluding to Lady Mary Campbell, youngest daughter of John second Duke of 
 Argyll, celebrated for her beauty and her long widowhood. She married Edward 
 Viscount Coke. Her quarrels with her husband at this time were notorious. Horace 
 Walpole says : " She has made him a declaration in form that she hates him, that she 
 always did, and that she always will. This seems to have been a very unnecessary 
 notiiication. However, as you know his part is to be extremely in love, he is very 
 miserable upon it." — T. 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 183 
 
 TO ME. WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 [July 14, 1749.] 
 
 I RECEIVED yours of May 29tli this day, July 14, N.S. I 
 have never failed answering every one that has come to my 
 hands, the same post, or the immediate succeeding one. I do 
 not doubt the interruption in our correspondence is often occa- 
 sioned by the negligence or infidelity of my messengers, hut 
 your last came to me opened, with the mark of the Sanita, 
 which shows me that the Venetians are at present under a real 
 or pretended fear of some contagious distemper ; but I have 
 heard of no such thing. There are often quarantines got up 
 on disputes with the neighbouring states, especially in the time 
 of the fairs. I am sorry I have given you so much trouble on 
 the account of the ale. Since you are not of opinion it wiU 
 come good, if it is not yet sent, I beg you to let it alone. I 
 am far more solicitous for Lord BoHngbroke's book.^ All the 
 writings I have ever seen of his appeared to me copied from 
 the French eloquence. I mean a poor or trite thought dressed 
 in pompous language. I wish 1 could write as you desire on 
 better paper ; but this is the best to be had in this place. The 
 last letter I have had from my daughter was dated Feb. 27. 
 I am persuaded she has wrote since, but I have never been so 
 happy to receive any one. The inundations of the rivers (by 
 the uncommon rains that have fallen this year at the time of 
 the melting of the snow) have done a great deal of mischief. 
 I have been in the number of the sufferers. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 [Received at Welbeck, Thursday, Sept. 7th, 1749, O.S.] 
 
 Lovere, Aug. 20, N.S. [1749]. 
 
 I RECEIVED this morning your ladyship's obliging letter of 
 June 8th : the sight of your hand gave me great pleasure, " 
 but the complaints you make of ill-health equally alarmed and 
 grieved me : I beg of you, dearest madam, not to write when 
 
 ' A volume containing three tracts by Bolinghroke, one being the famous letter 
 " On the Idea of a Patriot King." The publication was exciting much attention 
 in London on account of the preface, which detailed BoHngbroke's charge against 
 his deceased friend Pope of printing the letter without his sanctiorL — T. 
 
184 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 it is troublesome to you ; God knows my heart, I would not 
 purchase any happiness at the expense of the least incon- 
 venience to you. 
 
 I have been here this month drinking the waters, by advice, 
 having had many returns of the ague : but have found great 
 benefit from those waters, and am now in hopes I am entirely 
 quit of it. I think Lady F. Meadows pays very dear for 
 whatever advantages she may gain, but interest is so com- 
 monly preferred to honour, I do not doubt her conduct will 
 be applauded by many people.i I suppose Thoresby is (at 
 least in part) rebuilt, or I know not where so many can lodge. 
 My daughter writes me word she has fitted up that house^ 
 near Hampstead, which I once had the honour to see with 
 your ladyship ; I hope it is a proof she is in no want of money. 
 I propose staying here but a few days longer ; my love of re- 
 tirement grows upon me, and 'tis my opinion whoever knows 
 the world cannot be very fond of it. It is impossible for me 
 to conclude my letter without recommending to you the care 
 of yourself : it is no compliment, but a plain truth, when I say 
 that your ladyship is the only true friend I ever had in ray 
 life ; judge, therefore, how dear you are to, dear madam. 
 
 Your most affectionate and faithful servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 *». Lovere, August 22, N.S. [1749]. 
 
 Dear Child, — I received yours of the 30th of May but 
 yesterday, to my great vexation, fearing I may lose the box of 
 books and (what is more dear to me) your letter by the delay 
 of the post not bringing me the bill of loading in the proper 
 time. I have sent a messenger to Venice, but would not defer 
 giving you thanks till his return ; you say nothing of the 
 price, but I insist on it you should take it from Child, with 
 order he should deduct it in the next bill he sends to me. 
 
 ' Lady Mary's correspondents accused Ladj' Prances Meadows of being too 
 tolerant of her brother, the Duke of Kingston's liaison with Mademoiselle de la 
 Touche, which explains the remark in the text. — T. 
 
 2 Caenwood House was sold by Lord Bute, in 1755, to the Earl of Mansfield ; 
 who rebuilt it from a design by Robert Adam. — W. 
 
MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 185 
 
 We are now very quiet here, all the beau monde being 
 hurried away to the fair at Bergamo, which is esteemed the 
 best in Italy, after that of Senegallia ; our theatres are all shut 
 up, the performers being also gone thither. I was much pressed 
 to go by several parties ; but would not fatigue myself with a 
 journey of thirty miles. I have sent my woman to buy 
 penn'orths, hearing that there are merchants from all parts of 
 Europe. I am surprised at the account you give of London, 
 yet can hardly suppose that there are not some rational crea- 
 tures in it. The Duchess of Portland must be much altered 
 if she is never content out of a crowd ; and by the character 
 of Lady Middlesex,' who, I am told, is your most intimate 
 companion, I should guess her to be another that would prefer 
 an easy conversation to the noise of an assembly. I very well 
 remember Caenwood House, and cannot wish you in a more 
 agreeable place. It would be a great pleasure to me to see 
 my grandchildren run about in the gardens. I do not ques- 
 tion Lord Bute's good taste in the improvements round it, or 
 yours in the choice of the furniture. I have heard the fame 
 of paper-hangings, and had some thoughts of sending for a 
 suit, but was informed that they are as dear as damask here, 
 which put an end to my curiosity. I believe you think it a 
 long time since I promised my goddaughter a token ; I will 
 wait an opportunity of sending it, and engage it shall improve 
 by the delay. 
 
 I am ever (dear child) your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compUments to Lord Bute, and blessing to your httle 
 ones. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Oct. 1, N.S. [1749]. 
 
 Mt dear Child, — I have at length received the box, with 
 the books enclosed, for which I give you many thanks, as they 
 amused me very much. I gave a very ridiculous proof of it, 
 fitter indeed for my granddaughter than myself. I returned 
 
 ' Miss Boyle, only daughter and heir of Richard Earl of Shannon, mistress of 
 the robes to Augusta Princess of Wales, and -wife of Charlei Earl of Middlesex. — T. 
 
186 CORRESrONDENCE WITH 
 
 from a party on horseback; and after having rode twenty 
 miles, part of it by moonshine, it was ten at night when I 
 found the box arrived. I could not deny myself the pleasure 
 of. opening it; and, falling upon Fielding's works, was fool 
 enough to sit up all night reading. I think Joseph Andrews 
 better than his Foundling. I believe I was the more struck 
 with it, having at present a Fanny in my own house, not only 
 by the name, which happens to be the same, but the extraor- 
 dinary beauty, joined with an understanding yet more extra- 
 ordinary at her age, which is but few months past sixteen : 
 she is in the post of my chambermaid. I fancy you will tax 
 my discretion for taking a servant thus qualified ; but my 
 woman, who is also my housekeeper, was always teasing me 
 with her having too much work, and complaining of ill-health, 
 which determined me to take her a deputy ; and when I was 
 at Lovere, where I drank the waters, one of the most consi- 
 derable merchants there pressed me to take this daughter of 
 his : her mother has an uncommon good character, and the 
 girl has had a better education than is usual for those of her 
 rank ; she writes a good hand, and has been brought up to 
 keep accounts, which she does to great perfection; and had 
 herself such a violent desire to serve me, that I was persuaded 
 to take her : I do not yet repent it from any part of her be- 
 haviour. But there has been no peace in the family ever 
 since'she came into it ; I might say the parish, all the women 
 in it having declared open war with her, and the men endea- 
 vouring at treaties of a different sort : my own woman puts her- 
 self at the head of the first party, and her spleen is increased by 
 having no reason for it, the young creature never stirring 
 from my apartment, always at her needle, and never com- 
 plaining of anything.' You will laugh at this tedious accoimt 
 of my domestics (if you have patience to read it over), but I 
 have few other subjects to talk of. I am sorry you did not 
 take the money for the books from Child ; I write [to] him this 
 
 ' Her name was Chechiua. She married and left Lady Mary's service in 
 1750.— T. 
 
MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 187 
 
 post to pay it to you, but you will wait longer for it than I 
 could wish. 
 
 I am much pleased at your account of your children : may 
 they ever be as agreeable to you as they are at present. The 
 waters have very much mended my health. I endeavour to 
 preserve it by constant riding, and am a better horsewoman than 
 ever I was in my life, having complied with the fashion of this 
 country, which is every way so much better than ours. I 
 cannot help being amazed at the obstinate folly by which the 
 English ladies venture every day their lives and limbs. 
 
 My paper only allows me to add, I am your most affec- 
 tionate mother. 
 
 My comphments to Lord Bute, and blessing to your little 
 ones. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 [Nov. 30, 1749.] 
 
 My dear Child, — I received your agreeable letter of 
 September 24th, yesterday, November 29th, and am very glad 
 our daughter (for I think she belongs to us both) turns out so 
 much to your satisfaction ; may she ever do so. I hope she 
 has by this time received my token. I am afraid I have lost 
 some of your letters. In last April you wrote me word the 
 box directed to me was to set out in a week's time ; since that 
 I have had no news of it, and apprehend very much that the 
 bill which I suppose you sent me has miscarried. If so, I am 
 in danger of losing the cargo. You please me extremely in 
 saying my letters are of any entertainment to you. I would 
 contribute to yoiir happiness in every shape I can ; but, in my 
 soUtude, there are so few subjects present themselves, it is not 
 easy to find one that would amuse you, though, as I believe, 
 you have some leisure hours at Oaenwood, where anything 
 new is welcome. I will venture to tell you a small history in 
 which I had some share. I have already informed you of the 
 divisions and subdivisions of estates in this countiy, by which 
 you wUl imagine there is a numerous gentry of great names 
 
188 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 and little fortunes ; six of those families inhabit this town. 
 You may fancy this forms a sort of society ; but far from it, 
 as there is not one of them that does not think (for some 
 reason or other) they are far superior to all the rest : there is 
 such a settled aversion amongst them, they avoid one another 
 with the utmost care, and hardly ever meet, except by chance 
 at the castle (as they call my house), where their regard for 
 me obHges them to behave civilly, but it is with an affected 
 coldness that is downright disagreeable, and hinders me from 
 seeing any of them often. 
 
 I was quietly reading in my closet, when I was interrupted 
 by the chambermaid of the Signora Laura Bono, who flung 
 herself at my feet, and, in an agony of sobs and tears, begged 
 me, for the love of the holy Madonna, to hasten to her master's 
 house, where the two brothers would certainly murder one 
 another, if my presence did not stop their fury. I was very 
 much surprised, having always heard them spoke of as a 
 pattern of fraternal union. However, I made all possible 
 speed thither, without staying for hoods or attendance. I 
 was soon there (the house touching my garden wall), and was 
 directed to the bed-chamber by the noise of oaths and execra- 
 tions; but, on opening the door, was astonished to a degree 
 you may better guess than I describe, by seeing the Signora 
 Laura prostrate on the ground, melting in tears, and her hus- 
 band standing with a drawn stiletto in his hand, swearing she 
 should never see to-morrow's sun. I was soon let into the 
 secret. The good man, having business of consequence at 
 Brescia, went thither early in the morning; but, as he ex- 
 pected his chief tenant to pay his rent that day, he left orders 
 with his wife, that if the farmer, who lived two miles off, came 
 himself, or sent any of his sons, she should take care to make 
 him very welcome. She obeyed him with great punctuality, 
 the money coming in the hand of a handsome lad of eighteen : 
 she did not only admit him to her own table, and produce the 
 best wine in the cellar, but resolved to give him cliere entihre. 
 While she was exercising this generous hospitality, the hus- 
 band met midway the gentleman he intended to visit, who 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 189 
 
 was posting to another side of the country ; they agreed on 
 another appointment, and he returned to his own house, 
 where, giving his horse to be led round to the stable by the 
 servant that accompanied him, he opened his door with the 
 passe-partout key, and proceeded to his chamber, without 
 meeting anybody, where he found his beloved spouse asleep 
 on the bed with her gallant. The opening of the door waked 
 them : the young fellow immediately leaped out of the window, 
 which looked into the garden, and was open, it being summer, 
 and escaped over the fields, leaving his breeches on a chair by 
 the bedside — a very striking circumstance. In short, the case 
 was such, I do not think the queen of fairies herself could 
 have found an excuse, though Chaucer tells us she has made 
 a solemn promise to leave none of her sex unfurnished with 
 one, to all eternity. As to the poor criminal, she had nothing 
 to say for herself but what I dare swear you will hear from 
 your youngest daughter, if ever you catch her stealing of 
 sweetmeats — " Pray, pray, she would do so no more, and in- 
 deed it was the first time." This last article found no credit 
 with me : I cannot be persuaded that any woman who had 
 lived virtuous till forty (for such is her age) could suddenly 
 be endowed with such consummate impudence, to solicit a 
 youth at first sight, there being no probability, his age and 
 station considered, that he would have made any attempt of 
 that kind. I must confess I was wicked enough to think the 
 unblemished reputation she had hitherto maintained, and did 
 not fail to put us in mind of, was owing to a series of such 
 frolics ; and to say truth, they are the only amours that can 
 reasonably hope to remain undiscovered. Ladies that can re- 
 solve to make love thus extempore, may pass unobserved, espe- 
 cially if they can content themselves with low life, where fear 
 may oblige their favourites to secrecy : there wants only a 
 very lewd constitution, a very bad heart, and a moderate 
 understanding, to make this conduct easy : and I do not doubt 
 it has been practised by many prudes beside her I am now 
 speaking of. You may be sm"e I did not communicate these 
 reflections. The first word I spoke was to desire Signer Carlo 
 
190 ■ CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 to sheathe his poniard, not being pleased with its glittering : 
 he did so very readily, begging my pardon for not having done 
 it on my first appearance, saying he did not know what he 
 did, and indeed he had the countenance and gesture of a man 
 distracted. I did not endeavour a defence ; that seemed to 
 me impossible ; but represented to him, as well as I could, the 
 crime of a murder, which, if he could justify before men, was 
 stiU a crying sin before God ; the disgrace he would bring on 
 himself and posterity, and irreparable injury he would do his 
 eldest daughter, a pretty girl of fifteen, that I knew he was 
 extremely fond of. I added, that if he thought it proper to 
 part from his lady, he might easily find a pretext for it some 
 months hence ; and that it was as much his interest as hers to 
 conceal this affair from the knowledge of the world. I could 
 not presently make him taste these reasons, and was forced to 
 stay there near five hours (almost from five to ten at night) 
 before I durst leave them together, which I would not do till 
 he had sworn in the most serious manner he would make no 
 future attempt on her life. I was content with his oath, 
 knowing him to be very devout, and found I was not mistaken. 
 How the matter was made up between them afterwards I 
 know not ; but it is now two years since it happened, and all 
 appearances remaining as if it had never been. The secret is 
 in very few hands ; his brother, being at that time at Brescia, 
 I beheve knows nothing of it to this day. The chambermaid 
 and myself have preserved the strictest silence, and the lady 
 retains the satisfaction of insulting all her acquaintance on the 
 foundation of a spotless character, that only she can boast in 
 the parish, where she is most heartily hated, from these airs of 
 impertinent virtue, and another very essential reason, being 
 the best dressed woman among them, though one of the 
 plainest in her figure. 
 
 The discretion of the chambermaid in fetching me, which 
 possibly saved her mistress's life, and her taciturnity since, I 
 fancy appear very remarkable to you, and is what would cer- 
 tainly never happen in England. The first part of her beha- 
 viour deserves great praise ; coming of her own accord, and 
 
MR. -WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 191 
 
 inventing so decent an excuse for her admittance : but her 
 silence may be attributed to her knowing very well that any 
 servant that presumes to talk of his master will most certainly 
 be incapable of talking at all in a short time, their lives being 
 entirely in the power of their superiors : I do not mean by law, 
 but by custom, which has full as much force. If one of them 
 was killed, it would either never be inquired into at all, or 
 very slightly passed over ; yet it seldom happens, and I know 
 no instance of it, which I think is owing to the great submis- 
 sion of domestics, who are sensible of their dependence, and 
 the national temper not being hasty, and never inflamed by 
 wine, drunkenness being a vice abandoned to the vulgar, and 
 spoke of -with greater detestation than murder, which is men- 
 tioned with as little concern as a drinking-bout in England, 
 and is almost as frequent. It was extreme shocking to me at 
 my first coming, and still gives me a sort of horror, though 
 custom has in some degree familiarised it to my imagination. 
 Robbery would be pursued with great vivacity, and punished 
 with the utmost rigour, therefore is very rare, though stealing 
 is in daily practice ; but as all the peasants are suffered the 
 use of fire-arms, the slightest provocation is sufficient to shoot, 
 and they see one of their own species lie dead before them 
 with as little remorse as a hare or a partridge, and, when re- 
 venge spurs them on, with much more pleasure. A disserta- 
 tion on this subject would engage me in a discourse not proper 
 for the post. My compliments to Lord Bute : his kindness to 
 you ought to obtain the friendship of all that love you. My 
 blessing to your little ones. Think of me as ever, 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 Have you received my letter to my sister Mar? 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 [Received at Welbeck, Thursday, April 5tii, O.S., 1750.] 
 
 March 2, N.S. [1750]. 
 
 Dearest MIadam, — I received this day the happiness of 
 two letters you have honoured me with, dated December 23rd 
 and January 6th. I am very glad your health is mended ; 
 
192 eORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 though it is not so well re-established as I could wish, yet I 
 hope time will perfect it. I have passed this winter without 
 any complaint, which I attribute to the waters of Lovere, 
 and am resolved to drink them again in the season. I beg of 
 you, dearest madam, let not your tenderness for me give you 
 any uneasy moments ; I could wish, indeed, my destiny had 
 placed me near Welbeck, but then I remember that could not 
 be, without being also near another place, from whence I 
 should often hear accounts that would embitter even your 
 ladyship's conversation. I am more sensible (perhaps) than I 
 ought to be, of the figure my family makes, and often reflect 
 on the happiness of my father, who died without seeing any 
 of the misfortunes that have since happened. I heartily con- 
 gratulate the satisfaction you express in your hopeful grow- 
 ing children ; I pray God continue it, and every other blessing. 
 I think you have a fair prospect in the good sense and good- 
 nature of the Duke and Duchess of Portland : they cannot 
 give better proof of both, than in a right behaviour to you ; it 
 is no more than your due ; but in this age 'tis an uncommon 
 merit to be just. I hope my daughter will be so far her own 
 friend as to show herself on all occasions one of the duchess's 
 humble servants. She sends me such a description of London 
 as would cure me of desiring to see it, if it was my inclina- 
 tion, which, since your ladyship is not there, is no way my 
 wish. Public life is what I was never fond of, and would now 
 become me less than ever : I have always been amazed at the 
 passion for it continuing, as in the late Duchess of Marl- 
 borough, and can only attribute it to the flatterers round her, 
 who nourished in her that desire of applause, which is as vain 
 as the endeavours of children that run to catch the rainbow. 
 I need not say this to your ladyship, who, in highly deserv- 
 ing it, have always shunned it ; but you have the goodness to 
 permit me to communicate my thoughts to you, and 'tis a plea- 
 sure to me to show myself eternally, dearest madam, 
 
 Yoiu" ladyship's devoted humble servant. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 193 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD. 
 [Received at Cav. Lodge, Thursday, June 2l3t.] 
 
 May 24, N.S. [1750]. 
 
 For the first time of my life, I have had a kind letter from 
 dear Lady Oxford lay by me four days unanswered ; it found 
 me on a sick-bed, from which I can scarce say I am risen, 
 since I am up hut a few hours in the day ; and this is wrote 
 (God knows) with a feeble hand, but I am impatient to thank 
 your ladyship for your unwearied goodness to me. I have had 
 the severest illness I ever had, and heard sentence of death 
 pronounced against me. I am now told I am out of danger ; I 
 wiU not hurt your tenderness (which I am well acquainted 
 with) by a recital of my sufferings. 
 
 Since Lady N. Pawlet^ would take a boy, I am surprised 
 she has found one with so good an estate ; I suppose his father 
 has many other sons, or is not fond of posterity. 
 
 May God continue every blessing to you ! My weakness 
 obliges me to finish my letter, with the assurance of my being - 
 ever, dearest madam, 
 
 Your faithful obedient servant. 
 
 I will write again soon if it please God to restore my health. 
 
 TO MR. WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 May 28, N.S. [1750]. 
 
 I RECEIVED yours on the 2nd of April, O.S., two days ago. 
 I was then on a sick-bed, and am now scarce recovered of a 
 very severe illness. It was a great comfort to me to hear of 
 your health, for which I was in much pain. I have not had 
 any letter from my daughter of a long time, and am sorry she 
 breeds so fast, fearing it will impair her constitution. 
 
 I wonder you do not imitate, at London, the wise conduct of 
 
 ' Lady Isabella Tufton, youngest daughter and co-heir of Thomas sixth Earl of 
 Thanet, widow of Lord Nassau Pawlet, son of Charles second Duke of Bolton, by 
 his third wife, Henrietta Crofts, youngest natural daughter of James Scott, Duke of 
 Monmouth, by Eleanor, youngest daughter of Sir Robert Needham of Lambeth. 
 Lord N. Pawlet died in 1741 ; she married, secondly, France Blake Delaval, after- 
 wards Knight of the Bath, eldest son of Francis Blake Delaval, Esq., of Seaton De- 
 laval, in the county of Northumberland, — W. 
 
 VOL. II. O 
 
3 94 COEEESPONDENCE WJTH 
 
 this state, who, when they found the rage of play untameable, 
 invented a method to turn it to the advantage of the pubUc. 
 Now fools lose their estates, and the government profits by it. 
 I have wrote several long letters to my daughter, but know 
 not whether she has received any of them. I must shorten 
 this, from the weakness both of my head and hand. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 June 22, N.S. [1750]. 
 
 My dear Child, — Since you tell me my letters (such as 
 they are) are agreeable to you, I shall for the future indulge 
 myself in thinking upon paper when I write to yon. 
 
 I cannot believe Sir John's' advancement is owing to his 
 merit, though he certainly deserves such a distinction ; but I 
 am persuaded the present disposers of such dignities are neither 
 more clear-sighted or more disinterested than their predeces- 
 sors. Ever since I knew the world, Irish patents have been 
 .hung out to sale, Hke the laced and embroidered coats in Mon- 
 mouth-street, and bought up by the same sort of people ; I 
 mean those who had rather wear shabby finery than no finery 
 at all; though I do not suppose this was Sir John's case. 
 That good creature (as the country saying is) has not a bit of 
 pride in him. I dare swear he purchased his title for the same 
 reason he used to purchase pictures in Italy ; not because he 
 wanted to buy, but because somebody or other wanted to sell. 
 He hardly ever opened his mouth but to say " What you 
 please, sir ;" — " At yomr service ;" — " Your humble servant ;" 
 or some gentle expression to the same effect. It is scarce 
 credible that with this unlimited complaisance he should draw 
 a blow upon himself ; yet it so happened that one of his own 
 countrymen was brute enough to strike him. As it was done 
 before many witnesses. Lord Mansel heard of it ; and think- 
 ing that if poor Sir John took no notice of it, he would suffer 
 daily insults of the same kind, out of pure good nature re- 
 solved to spirit him up, at least to some show of resentment, 
 
 > Sir John Eawdon, created an Irish peer April 9, 1750, by the title of Baron 
 Eawdon of Moira. — T. 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 195 
 
 intending to make up their matter afterwards in as honourable 
 a, manner as lie could for the poor patient. He represented to 
 him very warmly that no gentleman could take a box on the 
 ear. Sii' John answered with great calmness, " I know that, 
 but this was not a box on the ear, it was only a slap of the 
 face," 
 
 I was as well acquainted with his two first wives as the 
 difference of our ages permitted. I fancy they have broke 
 their hearts by being chained to such a companion. 'Tis 
 really terrible, for a well-bred virtuous young woman to be 
 confined to the conversation of the object of their [sic] con- 
 tempt. There is but one thing to be done in that case, which 
 is a method 1 am sirre you have observed practised with success 
 by some ladies I need not name : they associate the husband 
 and the lap-dog, and manage so well, that they make exactly 
 the same figure in the famUy. My lord and Dell tag after 
 madam to all indifferent places, and stay at home together 
 whenever she goes into company where they would be trouble- 
 some. I pity * * *j if the D. of K. [Duke of Kingston] 
 marries. She will then know that her mean compliances will 
 appear as despicable to him as they do now to other people. 
 Who would have thought that all her nice notions and pious 
 meditations would end in being the humble companion of M. 
 [Mademoiselle] de la Touche V I do not doubt she has been 
 forced to it by necessity, and is one proof (amongst many I 
 have seen) of what I always thought, that nobody should trust 
 their virtue with necessity, the force of which is never known 
 till it is felt, and it is therefore one of the first duties to avoid 
 the temptation of it. I am not pleading for avarice — far from 
 it. I can assure you I equally contemn * * *j vk'ho can for- 
 get she was bom a gentlewoman, for the sake of money she 
 did not want. That is indeed the only sentiment that properly 
 
 1 A natural daughter of M. Bernard, the Paris banker. The young duke fled 
 with her to England, and a prosecution for the abduction was commenced before 
 the Parliament of Paris in 1737, but the French king arbitrarily put a stop to the 
 proceedings. Lord Bathiurst writes to Swift from " Gearclitfe Farm," on the 6th of 
 December, 1737 : " I want no foreign commodities. My neighbour, the Duke of 
 Kingston, has imported one : but I do not think it worth the carriage." The duke 
 lived with the lady many years. — T. 
 
 o2 
 
196 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 deserves the name of avarice. A prudential care of one's 
 affairs, or (to go further) a desire of being in circumstances to 
 be useful to one's friends, is not only excusable but highly 
 laudable; never blamed but by those who would persuade 
 others to throw away their money, in hopes to pick up a share 
 of it. The greatest declaimers for disinterestedness I ever 
 knew, have been capable of the vilest actions on the least view 
 of profit ; and the greatest instances of true generosity, given 
 by those who were regular in their expenses and superior to 
 the vanities in fashion. 
 
 I beUeve you are heartily tired of my dull moralities. I 
 confess I am in very low spirits ; it is hotter weather than has 
 been known for some years, and I have got an abominable 
 cold, which has drawn after it a troop of complaints I will not 
 trouble you with reciting. I hope all your family are in good 
 health. I am humble servant to Lord Bute. I give my 
 blessing to my Gfrand] children, a:nd am ever your most 
 affectionate mother. 
 
 TO MR. VfOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Lovere, Sept. 3, N.3. [1760]. 
 
 I RECEIVED yesterday yours dated June 24th. I am very- 
 well persuaded that the delay of all my letters, and the loss of 
 many, is occasioned by the posts in Italy. I receive none but 
 what are carelessly resealed, and some of them quite open. I 
 am not surprised at it, considering the present circumstances, 
 of which I woidd give you the detail, if it were safe to do it. 
 I have now changed the method of conveyance, sending this 
 to the English minister at Venice, who I have desired to put 
 it in his packet. On the top of one of the highest hills with 
 which this place is surrounded, here has been, two months 
 since, accidentally discovered a remarkable piece of antiquity; a 
 stone vault, in which was the remains of a human body, a table, 
 a spoon and a knife, and about a hundred pieces of coin, of a 
 mixed metal, in none of which there is any legible inscription. 
 Most of them, with the rest of the things I have mentioned, 
 are in the possession of the parish priest. I am endeavouring 
 
MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 197 
 
 to get them into mine. If I do, and you have any curiosity 
 to see them, I will send them to you. It is certain there is no 
 fraud in this discovery ; the people here having no notion of 
 the value of anything of this kind. I am of opinion it is a 
 Gothic antiquity, there being no trace of any inscription 
 having ever been upon the stone. Direct your next, " Re- 
 command6 au Chev. James Gray, Ministre de Sa M. Brittan- 
 nique, \ Venise." 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 [Salo, Oct. 17, 1750.] 
 
 Dear Child, — I received yours of August 25 th this morn- 
 ing, October 17th, N.S. It was every way welcome to me, 
 particularly finding you and your family in good health. 
 You will think me a great rambler, being at present far dis- 
 tant from the date of my last letter. I have been persuaded 
 to go to a palace near Salo, situate on the vast lake of Gardia, 
 and do not repent my pains since my arrival, though I have 
 passed a very bad road to it. It is indeed, take it altogether, 
 the finest place I ever saw : the King of France has nothing 
 so fine, nor can have in his situation. It is large enough to 
 entertain all his court, and much larger than the royal palace 
 of Naples, or any of those of Germany or England. It was 
 built by the great Cosmo, Duke of Florence, where he passed 
 many months, for several years, on the account of his health, 
 the air being esteemed one of the best in Italy. All the 
 offices and conveniences are suitably magnificent : but that is 
 nothing in regard to the beauties without doors. It is seated 
 in that part of the lake which forms an amphitheatre, at the 
 foot of a mountain near three miles high, covered with a wood 
 of orange, lemon, citron, and pomegranate trees, which is all 
 cut into walks, and divided into terraces, that you may go into 
 a several [_sic] garden from every floor in the house, diversified 
 with fountains, cascades, and statues, and joined by easy marble 
 staircases, which lead from one to another. There are many 
 covered walks, where you are secure from the sun in the 
 hottest part of the day, by the shade of the orange-trees. 
 
198 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 "which are so loaded with fruit, you can hardly have any 
 notion of their beauty without seeing them : they are as large 
 as lime-trees in England, You will think I say a great deal : 
 I will assure you I say far short of what I see, and you must 
 turn to the fairy tales to give you any idea of the real charms 
 of this enchanting palace, for so it may justly be called. The 
 variety of the prospects, the natural beauties, and the improve- 
 ments by art, where no cost has been spared to perfect it, 
 render it the most complete habitation I know in Europe. 
 While the poor present master of it (to whose ancestor the 
 Grand-Duke presented it, having bmlt it on his land), having 
 spent a noble estate by gaming and other extravagance, 
 would be glad to let it for a trifle, and is not rich enough to 
 live in it. Most of the fine fiumiture is sold ; there remains 
 only a few of the many good pictures that adorned it, and such 
 goods as were not easily to be transported, or for which he 
 found no chapman. I have said nothing to you of the mag- 
 nificent bath, embellished with statues, or the fish-ponds, the 
 chief of which is in the midst of the garden to which I go 
 from my apartment on the first floor. It is circled by a 
 marble baluster, and supplied by water from a cascade that 
 proceeds from the mouth of a whale, on which Neptune is 
 mounted, surrounded with reeds : on each side of him are 
 Tritons, which, from their shells, pour out streams that aug- 
 ment the pond. Higher on the hiU are three colossal statues 
 of Venus, Hercules, and Apollo. The water is so clear, you 
 see the numerous fish that inhabit it, and it is a great pleasure 
 to me to throw them bread, which they come to the surface 
 to eat with great greediness. I pass by many other fountains, 
 not to make my description too tedious. You will wonder, 
 perhaps, never to have heard any mention of this paradise 
 either from our English travellers,, or in any of the printed 
 accounts of Italy : it is as much unknown to them as if it was 
 guarded by a flaming cherubin. I attribute that ignorance, 
 in part, to its being twenty-five miles distant from any post 
 town, and also to the custom of the English of herding to- 
 gether, avoiding the conversation of the Italians, who, on their 
 
MR. WOETLET MONTAGU AKD OTHERS. 199 
 
 side, are naturally reserved, and do not seek strangers. Lady 
 Orford could give you some knowledge of it, having passed 
 the last six months she stayed here, in a house she hired at 
 Salo; but as all her time was then taken up with the me- 
 lancholy A'apours her distresses had thrown her into, I question 
 whether her curiosity ever engaged her to see this palace, 
 though but half a mile from it. 
 
 Oct. 26th. 
 
 I was interrupted in this part of my letter by a visit from 
 Count Martinenghi, master of this house, with his son and two 
 daughters : they stayed till this morning, being determined to 
 show me all the fine places on this side the lake, to engage me 
 to grow fond of staying here, and I have had a very pleasant 
 progress in viewing the most remarkable palaces within ten 
 miles round. Three from hence is the little town of Madema, 
 where the last Dake of Mantua built a retreat worthy a sove- 
 reign. It is now in the hands of a rich merchant, who main- 
 tains it in all its beauty. It is not half so large as that where 
 I am, but perfectly proportioned and uniform, from a design 
 of Palladio's. The garden [is] in the style of Le Notre, and 
 the furniture in the best taste of Paris. I am almost ready to 
 confess it deserves the preference to this, though built at far 
 less expense. The situations are as different as is possible, 
 when both of them are between a mountain and the lake : that 
 under which the Duke of Mantua chose to build is much lower 
 than this, and almost sterile ; the prospect of it is rather 
 melancholy than agreeable ; but the palace, being placed at 
 the foot of it, is a mile distant from the lake, which forms a 
 sort of peninsula, half a mile broad, and 'tis on that is the de- 
 lightful garden, adorned with parterres, espaHers, all sorts of 
 exotic plants, and ends in a thick wood, cut into ridings. That 
 in the midst is large enough for a coach, and terminates at the 
 lake, which appears from the windows like a great canal made 
 on purpose to beautify the prospect. On the contrary, the 
 palace where I lodge is so near the water, that you step out of 
 the gate into the barge, and the gardens being all divided, you 
 cannot view from the house above one of them at a time. In 
 
200 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 short, these two palaces may in their different beauties rival 
 each other, while they are neither of them to be excelled in 
 any other part of the world. 
 
 I have wrote you a terrible long letter ; but as you say you 
 are often alone, it may serve you for half an hour's amuse- 
 ment ; at least receive it as a proof that there is none more 
 agreeable to me than giving assurances of my being, dear 
 child, your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to my grand- 
 children. 
 
 P.S. Yours of the 23rd September is just this minute 
 brought to me. I heartily wish you and my Lord Bute joy of 
 his place; and wish it may have more advantageous conse- 
 quences ; but am glad you do not too much found hopes on 
 things of so much uncertainty. I have read S. Fielding's 
 works,^ and should be glad to hear what is become of her. 
 All the other books would be new to me excepting Pamela, 
 which has met with very extraordinary (and I think unde- 
 served) success. It has been translated into French and into 
 Italian ; it was all the fashion at Paris and Versailles, and is 
 still the joy of the chambermaids of all nations. 
 
 Direct the books to the care of Sir James Gray, the English 
 minister at Venice. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Brescia, Nov. 20, N.S. [1750]. 
 
 I RECEIVED yours of October the 3rd much sooner than I 
 have done any others of late, though it had been also opened. 
 If I find any proper opportunity I will write you a long letter, 
 which I do not care to hazard by the post. The great differ- 
 ence between this state and that of the Church has been 
 slightly mentioned in the newspapers. It is not yet thoroughly 
 
 ' Sarah (usually called Sally) Fielding, Henry Fielding's sister, who had some 
 talents, and like himself wrote for "bread. Her chief work was David Simple; 
 for which he furnished a preface. We believe she was the authoress of the re- 
 nowned Mrs. Peach'em, long ago supplanted by the Emiles, Amis des Enfans, 
 Adeles, and Early Lessons, that have been pouring in upon our nurseries for the 
 last fifty or sixty years. — W. 
 
JfH. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 201 
 
 accommodated, though much softened since I wrote. I am 
 very glad of Lord Bute's good fortune. I have wished my 
 daughter joy in a long letter. I do not write so copiously to 
 you, fearing it should be troublesome to your eyes. I sent her 
 some Italian poetry which has been much admired here. 
 
 The continuation of your health is my most fervent desire, 
 and the news of it my greatest pleasure'. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Dec. 24, N.S. [1750]. 
 
 Dear Child — ^I received yours of October the 28th this 
 morning, December 24th, N.S. I am afraid a letter of two 
 sheets of paper that I sent you from Salo never came to your 
 hands, which I am very sorry for : it woidd have been, per- 
 haps, some entertainment, being the description of places that 
 I am sure you have not found in any book of travels. I also 
 made my hearty congratulations to Lord Bute and yourseK on 
 his place,^ which I hope is an earnest of future advantages. I 
 desired you would send me all the books of which you gave a 
 catalogue, except H. Fielding's and his sister's, which I have 
 already. I thank God my taste still continues for the gay 
 part of reading.^ Wiser people may think it triiiing, but it 
 serves to sweeten life to me, and is at worst better than the 
 generality of conversation. I am extremely pleased ■with the 
 account you give me of your father's health : his life is • the 
 greatest blessing that can happen to his family. I am very 
 sincerely touched with the Duchess of Montague's misfortune,' 
 though I think it no reasonable cause for locking herself up. 
 Age and ugUness are as inseparable as heat and fire, and I 
 
 * Lord Bute's appointment to be of the prince's bedchamber was the subject of 
 these congratulations. — W. 
 
 ^ In Spence's Anecdotes by Singer, there is an observation of Lady Orford in 
 these words : " I wonder how anybody can find pleasure in reading the books 
 which are that lady's chief favourites." Here we have Lady Mary's confession of 
 her liking for works of imagination, and her defence of her taste. Lady Orford, a 
 learned lady and a sceptic, deep in metaphysics, regarded all lighter nonsense 
 with high disdain. In Pompey the Little, Lady Sophister, meant for her and said 
 to be very like her, is introduced astonishing a grave physician, whom she meets 
 by chance at a morning visit and never saw before, by asking him abruptly 
 " whether he believes in the immortality of the soul." 
 
 ' I suppose she had had the small-pox. She died in 1751. — T. 
 
202 COEEESPONDfiNCE WITH 
 
 think it all one in what shape one's figure grows disagreeable. 
 I remember the Princess of Moldavia at Constantinople made 
 a party of pleasure the next day after losing one of her eyes ; 
 and when I wondered at her philosophy, said, she had more 
 reason to divert herself than she had before. 'Tis true our 
 chmate is apt to inspire more melancholy ideas : the enhvening 
 heat of the sun continues the cheerfulness of youth to the 
 grave with most people. I received a visit not long since 
 from a fair yoimg lady, that had new lain in of her nineteenth 
 chUd ; in reahty she is but thirty-seven, and has so well pre- 
 served her fine shape and complexion, she appears little past 
 twenty. I wish you the same good fortune, though not quite 
 so numerous a posterity. Every happiness is ardently desired 
 for you by, dear child, your most affectionate mother. 
 
 P.S. My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all 
 your little ones. I am ashamed not to have sent my token to 
 my goddaughter ; I hope to do it in a short time. 
 
 TO ME. 'WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 February 11, N.S. [1751]. 
 
 I HAVE not heard from you of a long time. 1 hope your 
 silence is not occasioned by any indisposition. My daughter 
 gave me the satisfaction of letting me know you returned from 
 the north in good health. I do not give you the trouble of long 
 letters, fearing that reading of them might be uneasy to your 
 sight, but I write very largely to my daughter, supposing she 
 will communicate them to you. The snow that began to fall 
 here the last days of November is not yet off the ground ; the 
 roads are now scarce passable. 
 
 This weather is esteemed a prodigy in this country, I begin 
 almost to credit the tradition in Herodotus, and beHeve the 
 world will once again change its position, and Italy change 
 situation with Muscovy. 
 
 I have not stirred out of my apartments these two months, 
 though I have no reason to complain of my health : the con- 
 tinuation of yours is my most earnest wish. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 20 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 March 2, N.S. [175t]. 
 
 Deae Child, — ^I had the happiness of a letter from yoiir 
 father last post, by which I find you are in good health, though 
 I have not heard from you of a long time. This frequent in- 
 terruption of our correspondence is a great uneasiness to me : 
 I charge it on the neglect or irregularity of the post. I sent 
 you a letter by Mr. Anderson a great while ago, to which I 
 never had any answer ; neither have I ever heard from him 
 since, though I am fully persuaded he has wrote concerning 
 some little commissions I gave him. I should be very sorry 
 he thought I neglected to thank him for his civilities. I desire 
 Lord Bute would inquire about him. I saw him in company 
 with a very pretty pupil, who seemed to me a promising 
 youth. I wish he would fall in love with my granddaughter. 
 I dare say you laugh at this early design of providing for her : 
 take it as a mark of my affection for you and yoTu^s, which is 
 without any mixture of self-interest, since, with my age and 
 infirmities, there is little probability of my living to see them 
 established. I no more expect to arrive at the age of the 
 Duchess of Marlborough than to that of Methusalem ; neither 
 do I desire it. I have long thought myself useless to the 
 world. I have seen one generation pass away ; and it is gone ; 
 for I think there are veiy few of those left that flourished in 
 my youth. You will perhaps call these melancholy reflections : 
 they are not so. There is a quiet after the abandoning of 
 pursuits, something like the rest that follows a laborious day. 
 I teU you this for your comfort. It was formerly a terrifying 
 view to me, that I should one day be an old woman. I now 
 find that Nature has provided pleasures for every state. Those 
 are only unhappy who will not be contented with what she 
 gives, but strive to break through her laws, by affecting a pei- 
 petuity of youth, which appears to me as little desirable at 
 present as the babies do to you, that were the dehght of your 
 infancy. I am at the end of my paper, which shortens the 
 sermon of, dear child, your most affectionate mother. 
 
204 CORRESPONDENCE. WITH 
 
 TO MR. -WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 May 24, N.S. [1751]. 
 
 I OJlS no longer resist the desire I have to know what is 
 become of my son. I have long suppressed it, from a belief 
 that if there was anything of good to be told, you would 
 not fail to give me the pleasure of hearing it. I find it now 
 grows so much upon me, that whatever I am to know, I think 
 it would be easier for me to support, than the anxiety I suffer 
 from my doubts. I beg to be informed, and prepare myself 
 for the worst, with all the philosophy I have. At my time of 
 life I ought to be detached from a world which I am soon to 
 leave ; to be totally so is a vain endeavour, and perhaps there 
 is vanity in the endeavour : while we are human, we must 
 submit to human infirmities, and suffer them in mind as well 
 as body. All that reflection and experience can do is to 
 mitigate, we can never extinguish, our passions. I call by 
 that name every sentiment that is not founded upon reason, 
 and own I cannot justify to mine the concern I feel for one 
 who never gave me any view of satisfaction. 
 
 This is too melancholy a subject to dwell upon. You com- 
 pliment me on the continuation of my spirits : 'tis true, I try 
 to maintain them by every art I can, being sensible of the 
 terrible consequences of losing them. Young people are too 
 apt to let theirs sink on any disappointment. I have wrote to 
 my daughter all the considerations I could think of to lessen 
 her affliction. I am persuaded you will advise her to amuse- 
 ments, and am very glad you continue that of travelling, as 
 the most useful for health. I have been prisoner here some 
 months, by the weather : the rivers are still impassable in 
 most places ; when they are abated, I intend some little ex- 
 cursions, being of your opinion that exercise is as necessary as 
 food, though I have at present no considerable complaint ; my 
 hearing, and I think my memory, are without any decay, and 
 my sight better than I could expect ; it still serves me to read 
 many hours in a day. I have appetite enough to relish ■what 
 I eat, and have the same sound uninterrupted sleep that has 
 continued through the course of my life, and to which I at- 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 205 
 
 tribute the happiness of not yet knowing the headache. I am 
 very sorry you are so often troubled with it, but hope from 
 your care and temperance, that if you cannot wholly overcome 
 it, yet it may be so far diminished as not to give you any un- 
 easiness, or affect your constitution. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 June 19, N.S. [1751]. 
 
 Mt dear Child, — I received yesterday yours of May 10th, 
 in which was enclosed the captain's bill for the box. I am 
 much obliged to Lord Bute for thinking of me so kindly : to 
 say truth, I am as fond of baubles as ever, and am so far 
 from being ashamed of it, it is a taste I endeavour to keep up 
 with all the art I am mistress of. I should have despised 
 them at twenty for the same reason that I would not eat tarts 
 or cheesecakes at twelve years old, as being too chikhsh for 
 one capable of more solid pleasures. I now know (and alas ! 
 have long known) all things in this world are almost equally 
 trifling, and our most secret projects have scarce more foun- 
 dation than those edifices that your little ones raise in cards. 
 You see to what period the vast fortunes of the Duke and 
 Duchess of Marlborough, and Sir Robert Walpole, are soon 
 arrived. I believe as you do, that Lady Orford is a joyful 
 widow,' but am persuaded she has as much reason to weep for 
 her husband as ever any woman has had, from Andromache 
 to this day. I never saw any second marriage that did not, 
 appear to me very ridiculous : hers is accompanied vnth cir- 
 cumstances that render the folly complete. 
 
 Sicknesses have been very fatal in this country as well as 
 England. I should be glad to know the names of those you 
 say are deceased : I believe I am ignorant of half of them, the 
 Dutch news being forbid here. I would not have you give 
 yourself the trouble, but order one of your servants to tran- 
 scribe the catalogue. You will perhaps laugh at this curiosity. 
 If you ever return to Bute, you will find, that what happens 
 in the world is a considerable amusement in solitude. The 
 
 " The Earl of Orford, son of Sir Robert Walpole, died March 31, 1761.— T. 
 
206 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 people I see here make no more impression on my mind than 
 the figures in the tapestry : while they are directly before my 
 eyes, I know one is clothed in blue, and another in red ; but 
 out of sight, they are so entirely out of memory, I hardly re- 
 member whether they are tall or short, I sometimes call my- 
 self to account for this insensibihty, which has something of 
 ingratitude in it, this Httle town thinking themselves highly 
 honoured and obliged by my residence : they intended me an 
 extraordinary mark of it, having determined to set up my 
 statue in the most conspicuous place : the marble was bespoke, 
 and the sculptor bargained with, before I knew anything of 
 the matter ; and it would have been erected without my 
 knowledge, if it had not been necessary for him to see me to 
 take the resemblance. I thanked him very much for his in- 
 tention ; but utterly refused complying vsdth it, fearing it 
 would be reported (at least in England) that I had set up my 
 own statue. They were so obstinate in the design, I was 
 forced to tell them my religion would not permit it. I seriously 
 believe it wordd have been worshipped, when I was forgotten, 
 ■under the name of some saint or other, since I was to have 
 been represented with a book in my hand, which would have 
 passed for a proof of canonisation. This compliment was 
 certainly founded on reasons not unlike those that first framed 
 goddesses, I mean being useful to them, in which I am second 
 to Ceres. If it be true she taught the art of sowing wheat, 
 it is sure I have learned them to make bread, in which they 
 continued in the same ignorance Misson complains of (as you 
 may see in his letter from Padua). I have introduced French 
 rolls, custards, minced pies, and plmn-pudding, which they 
 are very fond of. 'Tis impossible to bring them to conform 
 to sillabub, which is so unnatm'al a mbrture in their eyes, they 
 are even shocked to see me eat it : but I expect immortality 
 from the science of butter-making, in which they are become 
 so skilful from my instructions, I can assure you here is as 
 good as in any part of Great Britain. I am afraid I have 
 bragged of this before ; but when you do not answer any part 
 of my letters, I suppose them lost, which exposes you to some 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 207 
 
 repetitions. Have you received that I wrote on my first 
 notice on the prince's death?' I shall receive Lord Bute's 
 china with great pleasure. The pearl necklace for ray god- 
 daughter has been long packed up for her, I wish I could say 
 sent. In the mean time give her, and the rest of yours, my 
 blessing: with thanks and compliments to Lord Bute, from 
 your most affectionate mother. 
 
 I desire you would order the china to be packed up by some 
 skilful man of the trade, or I shall receive it in pieces. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 June 20, N.S. [1761]. 
 
 I RECEIVED yours of May the 9 th yesterday, with great 
 satisfaction, finding in it an amendment of yom* health. I am 
 not surprised at Lady Orford's folly,^ having known her at 
 Florence : she made great court to me. She has parts, and a 
 very engaging manner. Her company would have amused 
 me very much, but I durst not indulge myself in it, her 
 character being in universal horror. I do not mean from her 
 gallantries, which nobody trouble their heads with, but she 
 had a collection of free-thinkers that met weekly at her house, 
 to the scandal of all good Christians. She invited me to one 
 of those honomrable assemblies, which I civilly refused, not de- 
 siring to be thought of her opinion, nor thinking it right to 
 make a jest of ordinances that are (at least) so far sacred, as 
 they are absolutely necessary in all civilised governments ; and 
 it is being in every sense an enemy to mankind to endeavour 
 to overthrow them. Tar-water is arrived in Italy. I have 
 been asked several questions concerning the use of it in Eng- 
 land. I do not find it makes any great progress here ; the 
 doctors confine it to a possibility of being useful in the case of 
 inward ulcers, and allow it no further merit. I told you, 
 some time ago, the method in this country of making it the 
 interest of the physician to keep the town in good health. I 
 wish that, and the Roman law concerning last testaments, 
 
 ' Frederick Prince ofWales died 20th March, 1751.— T. 
 
 2 Alluding to her marriage to Mr, Shirley, already mentioned. — T. 
 
208 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 were imported for the good of England : I know no foreign 
 fashion or quackery that would be so useful among us. I 
 have wrote a long letter to my daughter this post ; I cannot 
 help fearing for her. Time and distance have increased, and 
 not diminishedj niy tenderiiess -for"' nef .• • -I 'own ■ it- is -stronger 
 than my philosophy :• my i-eason a^ees%ith Atticus,' but my 
 passions are the same with TuUy^s.' '■ - 
 
 . - -^ •-TO >XHK COUNTESS' OF. BUTE, — . : 
 
 , - / XJtJy 23,.N.S., 1751.] 
 
 De^; GHiiDjvi:^! .Eej3ieiye"d;.y^ste|'<^y,'. i«t)jly 22iid; , N.S., 
 yours :.of .r^oiiig r 2jid. : L own I .couldiiiot Jielp tegretting the 
 D. [Dufchess^ p'f ; ■Montague : (withlwhomc -I-have ,.p^S.e:d many 
 agreeable houre), though I .thuik.I: ajn ;in the'wroijg.ih so 
 doing, beiilg . persuaded^ her. life .vf as grb-wn buxthensome to 
 her, and I believe; she. would .■.not, own herself ;in. danger to 
 avoid the .remedies -.that ..■^oudd -.hate been pressed upon her. 
 I am not surprised '.at Lady Grford's marriage: her money 
 was, doubtless, convenient to Mr. Shirley,, and I dare swear 
 she piques hersdfcQn.iiotb^ing^ble to .ref use.him^ g^Bything. 
 It has been; her w^y-yrith. all' hgr,l6. vers: he is the most .c]?edil^ 
 able of any 'she etex had:,-,hig;birth and seiise"will;iiidu.ce him 
 to behaye toher with deceiidyj andit.is what she has 'not been 
 much used to. ;As it is a true' saying, " Cowards more blows 
 than any hero bear," it is as. certainly true, ladies of ; pleasure 
 (very improperly so called) 'suffer more mortifications, thanany 
 nun of the rnoist austere. order that .ever .'w.as instituted,; Lady 
 Orford is ashining instance of that truth ; the most submissive 
 wife to the most tyraimic husband that ever was bom, is not 
 such a slave as I saw her at Florence. I have hardly ever 
 seen engagements of that sort on another footing. Contempt 
 is joined with satiety in those cases, and there are few men 
 that do not indulge the malignity that is in human nature, 
 when they can do it (as they fancy) justifiably. 
 
 I have had a return, though in a less degree, of the dis- 
 temper I had last year, and am afraid I must go again to the 
 waters of Lovere. The journey is so disagreeable I would 
 
SCAIRT.COIUWTESS O? BU'iI'Eo 
 
 f-iiav^rED SY- : 
 
 'EJ?J4IESiaM^ T-'I^IOM: AI^T OI'J'.GII^AJ. FICTUTJL BY SXR JOSHUA RK"'mOU3S. 
 lis XTTR POSSESSTCtr 0¥ XHT. M:aE.QXT:E Off ITJTF. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU XSD OTHERS. 209 
 
 willingly avoid it ; and I have little taste for the diversions of 
 the place. 
 
 August 1. 
 
 Thus far of my letter was wrote at Gottolengo, and it is con- 
 cluded at Lovere, where the doctors have dragged me. I 
 find much more company than ever. I have done by these 
 waters as I formerly did by those at Islington :' you may re- 
 member when I first carried you there, we scarce saw any but 
 ourselves, and in a short time we could hardly find room for 
 the crowd. I arrived but last night, so can say nothing of my 
 success in relation to my health. I must end my letter in a 
 hurry ; here is company ; and I can only say I am ever your 
 most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 LoTere, Nov. 1 [1751]. 
 
 Dear Child, — I received yours of August 25th, and my 
 Lord Bute's obliging notice of your safe delivery at the same 
 time. I wish you joy of your young son,^ and of everything 
 else. You do not mention your father, by which I suppose he 
 is not returned to England,^ and am in pain for his health, 
 having heard but once from him since he left it, and know not 
 whether he has received my letters. I dare say you need not 
 be in any doubt of his good opinion of you ; for my part, I am 
 so far persuaded of the goodness of your heart, I have often 
 
 * Islington Spa, or new Tunbridge Wells, " situated near the new River Head," 
 was in existence as early as the reign of Charles the Second. It seems to have 
 declined in popularity for some years before 1732, about which period it com- 
 pletely revived. This, therefore, is no doubt the time to which Lady Mary alludes. 
 As with similar places its medicinal waters were only secondary attractions to 
 its garden-walks, coffee-rooms, music, and fetes. The Gentleman's Magazine for 
 June, 1733, speaks of the daily visits of the Princesses Amelia and Caroline to the 
 Islington Spa for the purpose of drinking the waters, "when such was the con- 
 course of nobility and others, that the proprietor took above 30/. in one morning.'* 
 The writer adds : *' On the birthday of the princesses, as they passed through the 
 Spa-6elds, which was generally filled with carriages, they were saluted with a dis- 
 charge of twenty-one guns, a compliment which was always paid them on their 
 arrival ; and in the evening there was a great bonfire, and the guns were again 
 discharged several times." The Spa had again lost its reputation in 1778, and in 
 spite of subsequent efforts to revive it, gradually disappeared from the list of 
 suburban places of amusement.— T. 
 
 * Frederick Stuart, born September 24, 1751. — T. 
 
 ^ Mr. Wortley Montagu left England for Vienna about June, and returned about 
 November, 1751.— T. 
 
 VOL. II. r 
 
210 COKRESPdNDENCE WITH 
 
 had a mind to write you a consolatory epistle on my own 
 death, which I believe will be some affliction, though my Ufe 
 is wholly useless to you. That part of it which we passed to- 
 gether you have reason to remember with gratitude, though I 
 think you misplace it; you are no more obhged to me for 
 bringing you into the world, than I am to you for coming into 
 it, and I never made use of that common-place (and like 
 most common-place, false) argument, as exacting any return 
 of affection. There was a mutual necessity on us both to part 
 at that time, and no obligation on either side. In the case of 
 your infancy, there was so great a mixture of instinct, I can 
 scarce even put that in the number of the proofs I have given 
 you [of] my love; but I confess I think it a great one, if you com- 
 pare my after-conduct towards you with that of other mothers, 
 who generally look on their children as devoted to their plea- 
 sures, and bound by duty to have no sentiments but what they 
 please to give them ; playthings at first, and afterwards the 
 objects on which they may exercise their spleen, tyranny, or 
 ill humour. I have always thought of you in a different 
 manner. Your happiness was my first wish, and the pursuit 
 of all my actions, divested of all self-interest. So far I think 
 you ought, and believe you do, remember me as your real 
 friend. Absence and distance have not the power to lessen 
 any part of my tenderness for you, which extends to all yoiu-s, 
 and I am ever your most affectionate mother. 
 
 I send no compliments to Lord Bute, having wrote to him 
 this post. 
 
 TO ME. WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Lovere, Nov. 10, N.S. [1751]. 
 
 I RECEIVED yours of October 10th this day, which is much 
 quicker than any I ever had from England. I will not make 
 any reflections on the conduct of the person you mention ;^ 'tis 
 a subject too melancholy to us both. I am of opinion tallying 
 at Bassette is a certain revenue (even without cheating) to 
 
 ' This evidently alludes to her son. — W. From what follows, it is probable 
 that the allusion is to her son's affair with Abraham Payba, which was going on 
 at this time. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 211 
 
 those that can get constant punters, and are able to submit to 
 the drudgery of it ; but I never knew any one pursue it long 
 and preserve a tolerable reputation. The news of the recovery 
 of your health makes me amends for the displeasure of hear- 
 ing his ill figure. 
 
 I have often read and been told, that the air of Hungaiyi is 
 better, and the inhabitants in general longer lived, than in any 
 other part of Europe. You have given me a very surprising 
 instance of it, far surpassing in age the old woman of Lovere, 
 though, in some circumstances, I think her story as extraordi- 
 nary. She died but ten years ago ; and it is well remembered 
 by the inhabitants of that place, the most creditable of whom 
 have all assured me of the truth of the following facts : — She 
 kept the greatest inn there tiU past fifty : her husband then 
 *^ying, and she being rich, she left off that trade ; and having 
 a large house, with a great deal of furniture, she let lodgings, 
 wliich her daughters (two maids past seventy) still continue. 
 I lodged with them the first year of my going to those waters. 
 She lived to one hundred with good health ; but in the last 
 five years of it fell into the decays common to that period- 
 dimness of sight, loss of teeth, and baldness ; but in her 
 hundredth year, her sight was totally restored, she had a new 
 set of teeth, and a fresh head of brown hair. Her daughters 
 assured me she had also another mark of youth. * * • I 
 mentioned it to several ladies, who none of them had heard it, 
 but the rest was confirmed to me by everybody. She lived in 
 this renewed vigour ten years, and had then her picture drawn, 
 which has a vivacity in the eyes and complexion that would 
 become five-and-twenty, though, by the falls in the face, one 
 may discern it was drawn for a very old person. She died 
 merely of an accident, which would have killed any other — 
 tumbling down a very bad stone staircase which goes into the 
 cellar ; she broke her head in such a manner, she lived but two 
 days. The physician and surgeon who attended her told me 
 her age no way contributed to her death. I inquired whether 
 
 * Mr. Wortley Montagu having been in Vienna shortly before the date of this 
 letter, had probably extended his travels into some part of Hungary. — T. 
 
 P 2 
 
212 CORRESPONDENCK WITH 
 
 there was any singularity in her diet, but heard of none, ex- 
 cepting that her breakfast was every morning a large quantity 
 of bread sopped in cold water. The common food of the 
 peasants in this country is the Turkish wheat you mention^ 
 which they dress in various manners, but use little milk, it 
 being chiefly reserved for cheese, or the tables of the gentry. 
 I have not observed, either among the poor or rich, that in 
 general they live longer than in England. This woman of 
 Lovere is always spoken of as a prodigy; and [I] am sur- 
 prised she is neither called saint nor witch, being {_sic'] very 
 prodigal of those titles. 
 
 I return you many thanks for the length of your entertain- 
 ing letter ; but am very sorry it was troublesome to you. I 
 wish the reading of this may not be so. I will seek for a 
 picture for Lord Bute. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Deo. 8 [1751]. 
 
 My dear Child, — ^I received yours of October 24th yester- 
 day, which gave me great pleasure, by the account of the 
 good health of you and yours ; I need not say how near that 
 is to my heart. I had the satisfaction of an entertaining letter 
 from your father, out of Germany, by which I find he has had 
 both benefit and amusement from his travels. I hope he is 
 now with you. 
 
 I find you have many wrong notions of Italy, which I do 
 not wonder at. You can take your ideas of it only from 
 books or travellers ; the first are generally antiquated or con- 
 fined to trite observations, and the other yet more superficial ; 
 they return no more instructed than they might have been at 
 home by the help of a map. The boys only remember where 
 they met with the best wine or the prettiest women ; and the 
 governors (I speak of the most learned amongst them) have 
 only remarked situations and distances, or, at most, statues 
 and edifices, as every girl that can read a French novel, and 
 boy that can construe a scene in Terence, fancies they have 
 attained to the French and Latin languages, when, God 
 knows, it requires the study of a whole life to acquire a per- 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 213 
 
 feet knowledge of either of them : so, after a tour (as they 
 call it) of three years round Europe, people think themselves 
 qualified to give exact accounts of the customs, policies, and 
 interests of the dominions they have gone through post ; when 
 a very long stay, a diligent inquiry, and a nice observation, are 
 requisite even to a moderate degree of knowing a foreign 
 country, especially here, where they are naturally very re- 
 served. France, indeed, is more easily seen through : the 
 French always talking of themselves, and the government 
 being the same, there is little difference from one province to 
 another ; but, in Italy, the different laws make different cus- 
 toms and manners, which are in many things very particular 
 here, from the singularity of the government. Some I do not 
 care to touch upon, and some are still in use here, though 
 obsolete in almost all other places, as the estates of all the 
 great families being unalienable, as they were formerly in 
 England. This would make them very potent, if it was not 
 balanced by another law, that divides whatever land the father 
 dies possessed of among all the sons, the eldest having no ad- 
 vantage but the finest house and best furniture. This occa- 
 sions numerous branches and few large fortunes, with a train 
 of consequences you may imagine. But I cannot let pass in 
 silence the prodigious alteration, since Misson's writing,' in 
 regard to our sex. This reformation (or, if you please, de- 
 pravation) began so lately as the year 1732, when the French 
 overrun this part of Italy ; but it has been carried on with 
 such fervour and success, that the Italian go far beyond their 
 patterns, the Parisian ladies, in the extent of their liberty. I 
 am not so much surprised at the women's conduct, as- 1 am 
 amazed at the change in the men's sentiments. Jealousy, 
 which was once a point of honour among them, is exploded to 
 that degree, it is the most infamous and ridiculous of all cha- 
 racters ; and you cannot more affront a gentleman than to 
 suppose him capable of it. Divorces are also introduced, and 
 frequent enough ; they have long been in fashion in Genoa ; 
 several of the finest and greatest ladies there having two hus- 
 
 ' Nouveau Voyage d'ltalie, par Maximilien Missoii. 2 torn. Haye, 1691. — T. 
 
214 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 bands alive. The constant pretext is impotency, to which the 
 man often pleads guilty, and though he marries again, and 
 has children by another wife, the plea remains good by saying 
 he was so in regard to his first ; and when I told them that in 
 England a complaint of that kind was esteemed so impudent 
 no reasonable woman would submit to make it, I was an- 
 swered we lived without religion, and that their consciences 
 obliged them rather to strain a point of modesty than live in 
 a state of damnation. However, as this method is not without 
 inconvenience (it being impracticable where there is children), 
 they have taken another here : the husband deposes upon oath 
 that he has had a commerce with his mother-in-law, on which 
 the marriage is declared incestuous and nullified, though the 
 children remain legitimate. You will think this hard on the 
 old lady, who is scandalised; but^it is no scandal at all, no- 
 body supposing it to be true, without circumstances to confirm 
 it ; but the married couple are set free to their mutual con- 
 tent ; for I believe it would be difficult to get a sentence of 
 divorce, if either side made opposition ; at least I have heard 
 no example of it. 
 
 I am afraid you will think this long letter very tedious ; but 
 you tell me you are without company, and in solitude anything 
 amuses, though yours appears to me a sort of paradise. You 
 have an agreeable habitation, a pleasant garden, a man you 
 love and that loves you, and are surrounded with a numerous, 
 hopeful progeny. May they all prove comforts to your age ! 
 That and all blessings is daily wished you by, my dear child. 
 
 Your affectionate mother. 
 
 My 'compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to your httle 
 ones. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 My dear Child, — I am extremely concerned to hear you 
 complain of ill health, at a time of life when you ought to be 
 in the flower of your strength. I hope I need not recoromend 
 to you the care of it : the tenderness you have for your 
 children is sufficient to enforce you to the utmost regard for 
 the preservation of a life so necessary to their well-being. I 
 
MR. WOKTLET MONTAGU AKD OTHERS. 215 
 
 do not doubt your prudence in their education : neither can I 
 say anything particular relating to it at this distance, different 
 tempers requiring different management. In general, never 
 attempt to govern them (as most people do) by deceit : if they 
 find themselves cheated, even in trifles, it will so far lessen the 
 authority of their instructor, as to make them neglect all their 
 future admonitions. And, if possible, breed them free from 
 prejudices ; those contracted in the nursery often influence the 
 whole life after, of which I have seen many melancholy 
 examples. I shall say no more of this subject, nor would 
 have said this little if you had not asked my advice : 'tis much 
 easier to ^ve rvdes than to practise them. I am sensible my 
 own natural temper is too indulgent : I think it the least dan- 
 gerous error, yet stUl it is an error. 1 can only say with truth, 
 that I do not know in my whole life having ever endeavoured 
 to impose on you, or give a false colour to anything that I re- 
 presented to you. If yom- daughters are inclined to love read- 
 ing, do not check their inclination by hindering them of the 
 diverting part of it ; it is as necessary for the amusement of 
 women as the reputation of men ; but teach them not to ex- 
 pect or desire any applause from it. Let their brothers shine, 
 and let them content themselves with making their lives easier 
 by it, which I experimentally know is more effectually done by 
 study than any other way. Ignorance is as much the foun- 
 tain of vice as idleness, and indeed generally produces it. 
 People that do not read, or work for a livelihood, have many 
 hours they know not how to employ ; especially women, who 
 commonly fall into vapours, or something worse. I am afraid 
 you'll think this letter very tedious : forgive it, as coming from 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 [Jan. 29, N.S., 1752.'] 
 
 I HAD the pleasure of receiving Jo^xrs of November 25 
 yesterday, and am very glad to find by it that you are arrived 
 in London in good health. I heartily wish you the continuance 
 of it. My deafness lasted only a fortnight, though it frighted 
 
 • The date is derived from a memorandum in Mr. Wortley Montagu's hand- 
 writing. — T. 
 
216 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 me very much. I have had no return of it since. Your ad- 
 vice to Mr. M. was certainly right, but I am not surprised he 
 did not follow it. I believe there are few men in the world (I 
 never knew any) capable [of] such a strength of resolution as 
 yourself. I have answered your letter from Vienna, but as you 
 do not mention having received mine, andperhaps it is lost,Ishall 
 add a word or two more concerning the use of Turkish wheat. 
 It is generally declaimed against by all the doctors ; and some 
 of them have vsrrote treatises to show the ill consequences of 
 it, in which they say, that since it has been sown (which is not 
 above one hundred years), it may be proved from the registers 
 that the mortality is greater amongst the country people than 
 it was formerly. I believe that may be true in regard to 
 children, who are apt to eat greedily, it being very heavy of 
 digestion ; but to those whose stomachs can bear it, and eat 
 with moderation, I am persuaded it is a clean strengthening 
 diet. I have made strict observations and inquiries on the 
 health and manner of life of the countries in which I have re- 
 sided, and have found Httle difference in the length of life. 
 It is true, gout, stone, and small-pox (so frequent with us) 
 are little known here : in recompense, pleurisies, peripneu- 
 monies, and fevers (especially malignant) are far more usual : 
 and I am clearly of opinion that, if an exact computation was 
 made, as many die in Brescia as in London, in proportion to 
 the different numbers. I have not heard from my daughter 
 of a long time ; which may be occasioned by the bad weather. 
 I hope both you and she are well. I have wrote to her many 
 long letters. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 [Feb. 16, N.S., 1752.-| 
 
 Dear Child, — I received yesterday, February 15th, N.S., 
 the case of books you were so good to send to me : the enter- 
 tainment they have already given me has recompensed me for 
 the long time I expected them. I began by your direction 
 with Peregrine Pickle.' I think Lady V. [VaneJ's Memoirs con- 
 tain more truth and less malice than any I ever read in my 
 
 ' Smollett's Peregrine Pickle was published in February, 1751. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 217 
 
 life. When she speaks of her own being disinterested, I am 
 apt to believe she really thinks herself so, as many highway- 
 men, after having no possibility of retrieving the character of 
 honesty, please themselves with that of being generous, be- 
 cause, whatever they get on the road, they always spend at the 
 next ale-house, and are still as beggarly as ever. Her history, 
 rightly considered, would be more instructive to young women 
 than any sermon I know. They may see there what mortifi- 
 cations and variety of misery are the unavoidable consequences 
 of gallantries. I think there is no rational creature that would 
 not prefer the Hfe of the strictest Carmelite to the round of 
 hurry and misfortune she has gone through. Her style is 
 clear and concise, with some strokes of humour, which appear 
 to me so much above her, I can't help being of opinion the 
 whole has been modelled by the author of the book in . which 
 it is inserted, who is some subaltern admirer of hers. I may 
 judge wrong, she being no acquaintance of mine, though she 
 has married two of my relations. Her first wedding was 
 attended with circumstances that made me think a visit not at 
 all necessary, though I disobliged Lady Susan by neglecting 
 it ; and her second, which happened soon after, made her so 
 near a neighbour, that I rather chose to stay the whole 
 summer in town than partake of her balls and parties of plea- 
 sure, to which I did not think it proper to introduce you ; and 
 had no other way of avoiding it, without incurring the censure 
 of a most unnatural mother for denying you diversions that 
 the pious Lady Ferrers^ permitted to her exemplary daugh- 
 ters. Mr. Shirley has had uncommon fortune in making the 
 conquest of two such extraordinary ladies, equal in their 
 heroic contempt of shame, and eminent above their sex, the 
 one for beauty, and the other wealth, both which attract 
 the pursuit of all mankind, and have 'been thrown into his 
 arms with the same unlimited fondness. He appeared to me 
 gentile [sic], well bred, weD shaped, and sensible; but the 
 charms of his face and eyes, which Lady V. [Vane] describes 
 with so much warmth, were, I confess, always invisible to me, 
 
 ' See note, post, p. 240, — T. 
 
218 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 and the artificial part of his character very glaring, which I 
 think her story shows in a strong light. 
 
 The next book I laid my hand on was the Parish Girl,' 
 which interested me enough not to be able to quit it tiU it was 
 read over, though the author has fallen into the common mis- 
 take of romance-writers ; intending a virtuous character, and 
 not knowing how to draw it; the first step of his heroine 
 (leaving her patroness's house) being altogether absurd and 
 ridiculous, justly entitling her to all the misfortvmes she met 
 with. Candles cahie (and my eyes grown weary), I took up 
 the next book, merely because I supposed from the title it 
 coidd not engage me long. It was Pompey the Little,* which 
 has really diverted me more than any of the others, and it was 
 impossible to go to bed till it was finished. It was a real and 
 exact representation of life, as it is now acted in London, as 
 it was in my time, and as it will be (I do not doubt) a hun- 
 dred years hence, with some little variation of dress, and per- 
 haps government. I found there many of my acquaintance. 
 Lady T. and Lady O. are so well painted,' I fancied I heard 
 them talk, and have heard them say the very things there re- 
 peated. I also saw myself (as I now am) in the character of 
 Mrs. Qualmsick. You will be surprised at this, no English- 
 woman being so free from vapours, having never in my life 
 complained of low spirits or weak nerves ; but our resemblance 
 is very strong in the fancied loss of appetite, which I have 
 been silly enough to be persuaded into by the physician of 
 this place. He visits me frequently, as being one of the most 
 considerable men in the parish, and is a grave, sober thinking, 
 great fool, whose solemn appearance, and deliberate way of 
 delivering his sentiments, gives them an air of good sense, 
 though they are often the most injudicious that ever were 
 pronounced. By perpetual telling me I eat so little, he is 
 amazed I am able to subsist. He had brought me to be of 
 
 ' The History of Charlotte Summers, the Fortunate Parish Girl, published in 
 February, 1750.— T. 
 
 ' The novel of Pompey the Little, or the Adventures of a Lap-Dog, was pub- 
 lished in February, 1761. Its author was Mr. Coventry. — T. 
 
 ' In the novel, Lady T. (Townsheni) is named Lady Tempat ; Lady 0. (Orford), 
 Lady Sophister. — T. 
 
MK. WOBTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 219 
 
 his opinion ; and I began to be seriously uneasy at it. This 
 useful treatise has routed me into a recollection of what I eat 
 yesterday, and do almost every day the same. I wake gene- 
 rally about seven, and drink half a pint of warm asses' milk, 
 after which I sleep two hours ; as soon as I am risen, I con- 
 stantly take three cups of milk coffee, and two hours after 
 that a large cup of milk chocolate : two hours more brings my 
 dinner, where I never fail swallowing a good dish (I don't 
 mean plate) of gravy soup, with all the bread, roots, &c., be- 
 longing to it. I then eat a wing and the whole body of a 
 large fat capon, and a veal sweetbread, concluding with a 
 competent quantity of custard, and some roasted chesnuts. 
 At five in th<i afternoon I take another dose of asses' milk ; 
 and for supper twelve chesnuts (which would weigh twenty- 
 foiir of those in London), one new laid egg, and a handsome 
 porringer of white bread and milk. With this diet, notwith- 
 standing the menaces of my wise doctor, I am now convinced 
 I am in no danger of starving ; and am obliged to Little 
 Pompey for this discovery. 
 
 I opened my eyes this morning on Lieonora,* from which I 
 defy the greatest chemist in morals to extract any instruction ; 
 the style most affectedly florid, and naturally insipid, with 
 such a confused heap of admirable characters, that never were, 
 or can be, in human nature. I flung it aside after fifty pages, 
 and laid hold of Mrs. Philips,^ where I expected to find at 
 least probable, if not true facts, and was not disappointed. 
 There is a great similitude in the genius and adventures (the 
 one being productive of the other) between Madame Con. 
 [Oonstantia] and Lady Vane: the first mentioned has the 
 advantage in birth, and, if I am not mistaken, in understand- 
 ing : they have both had scandalous lawsuits "with their hus- 
 bands, and are endowed with the same intrepid assiirance. 
 Con. seems to value herself also on her generosity, and has 
 given the same proofs of it. The parallel might be drawn out 
 to be as long as any of Plutarch's ; but I dare swear you are 
 
 * The title of this novel was, I believe, Eleanora's Adventures. It was pub- 
 lished in 1761.— T. 
 
 ' The Life of Mrs. Teresa Constantia Philips.— T. 
 
220 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 already heartily weary of my remarks, and wish I had not 
 read so much in so short a time, that you might not be 
 troubled with my comments ; but you must suffer me to say 
 something of the pohte Mr. S'", whose name I should never 
 have guessed by the rapturous description his mistress makes 
 of his person, having always looked upon him as one of the 
 most disagreeable fellows about town, as odious in his outside 
 as stupid in his conversation, and I should as soon have ex- 
 pected to hear of his conquests at the head of an army as 
 among women ; yet he has been, it seems, the darling favourite 
 of the most experienced of the sex, which shows me I am a 
 very bad judge of merit. But I agree with Mrs. Phihps, 
 that, however profligate she may have been, she is infinitely 
 his superior in virtue ; and if her penitence is as sincere as she 
 says, she may expect their future fate to be like that of Dives 
 and Lazarus. 
 
 This letter is of a most immoderate length. I [hope ?] it 
 will find you at Oaenwood: your soUtude there will permit 
 you to peruse, and even to forgive, all the impertinence of your 
 most affectionate mother. 
 
 My blessing to our children, and compliments to Lord Bute. 
 I enclose a bill to pay the overplus due to you, and serve for 
 future little commissions. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 March 1, N.S. 
 
 Dear Child, — I have now finished your books, and I be- 
 hove you will think I have made quick despatch. To say 
 truth, I have read night and day. Mr. Loveill^ gave me 
 some entertainment, though there is but one character in it 
 that I can find out. I do not doubt Mr. Depy is designed for 
 Sir John Rawdon. The adventure mentioned at Rome really 
 happened to him, with this addition : that after he was got 
 quit of his fear of being suspected in the interest of the P. 
 [Pretender], he endeavoured to manifest his loyalty by raiUng at 
 
 ' The Adventures of Mr. Loveill, interspersed with many real Amours of the 
 Modem Polite World, 1760, 2 vola.— T, 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 221 
 
 him in all companies, with all the wannth imaginable ; on which 
 his companions persuaded him that his death was absolutely- 
 determined by that court ; and he durst not stir out for some 
 time, for fear of being assassinated ; nor eat, for fear of being 
 poisoned. I saw him at Venice, where, on hearing it said I 
 had been at Constantinople, he asked Lord Marisel by what 
 accident I made that journey. He answered, Mr. Wortley 
 had been ambassador to the Porte. Sir J. rephed, to what 
 port ? the port of Leghorn ! — I could relate many speeches of 
 his of equal beauty, but I believe you are already tired of 
 hearing of him, as much as I was with the memoirs of Miss 
 H. Stuart;' who, being intended for an example of wit and 
 virtue, is a jUt and a fool in every page. But while I was in- 
 dolently perusing the marvellous figures she exliibits, no more 
 resembling anything in human nature than the wooden cut in 
 the Seven Champions, I was roused into great surprise and 
 indignation by the monstrous abuse of one of the very few 
 women I have a real value for; I mean Lady B. F. ;^ who 
 is not only clearly meant by the mention of her library (she 
 being the only lady at court that has one), but her very 
 name at length, she being christened Cecilia Isabella, though 
 she chooses to be called by the latter. I always thought her 
 conduct, in every light, so irreproachable, I did not think she 
 had an enemy upon earth ; I now see 'tis impossible to avoid 
 them, especially in her situation. It is one of the misfortunes 
 of a supposed court interest (perhaps you may know it by ex- 
 perience), even the people you have obHged hate you, if they 
 do not think you have served to the utmost extent of a 
 power that they fancy you are possessed of ; which it may be 
 is only imaginary. 
 
 On the other hand, I forgive Jo. Thompson' two volumes 
 
 * Harriet Stuart was the first novel written by Mrs. Charlotte Lennox, and 
 certainly a very indifferent one. — W. It was published in December, 1750. — T. 
 
 2 Lady Belie Finch, one of the many daughters of Lord Nottingham (Swift's 
 Dismal), who before his death succeeded to the older title of Winchilsea. She was 
 sister to the Duchess of Roxburgh, the Duchess of Cleveland, Lady Mansfield, 
 Lady Rockingham, &c. ; and was lady of the bedchamber to the Princess Amelia. 
 — W. 
 
 ' The Life and Adventures of Joe Thompson. 2 vols. London [August], 1750. 
 [A novel.]— T. 
 
222 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 of absurdities, for the sake of justice he has done to the me- 
 mory of the Duke of Montagu; who really had (in my 
 opinion) one of the most humane dispositions that ever ap- 
 peared in the world. I was such an old fool as to weep over 
 Clarissa Harlowe, like any milkmaid of sixteen over the ballad 
 of the Lady's Fall. To say truth, the first volume softened 
 me by a near resemblance of my maiden days ; but on the 
 whole 'tis most miserable stuff. Miss How, who is called a 
 young lady of sense and honour, is not only extreme silly, 
 but a more vicious character than Sally Martin, whose crimes 
 are owing at first to seduction, and afterwards to necessity; 
 while this virtuous damsel, without any reason, insults her 
 mother at home and ridicules her abroad ; abuses the man she 
 marries ; and is impertinent and impudent with great applause. 
 Even that model of affection, Clarissa, is so faulty in her beha- 
 viour as to deserve httle compassion. Any girl that runs 
 away with a young fellow, without intending to marry him, 
 should be carried to Bridewell or to Bedlam the next day. Yet 
 the circumstances are so laid, as to inspire tenderness, not- 
 withstanding the low style and abstu-d incidents ; and I look 
 upon this and Pamela to be two books that will do more 
 general mischief than the works of Lord Rochester. There 
 is something humorous in R. Random, that makes me believe 
 that the author is H. Fielding.^ I am horribly afraid I guess 
 too well the writer of those abominable insipidities of Cor- 
 nelia,^ Leonora,* and the Ladies Drawing Room. — ^I fancy 
 you are now saying, 'tis a sad thing to grow old ; what does 
 my poor mamma mean by troubling me with criticisms on 
 books that nobody but herself will ever read 1 You must 
 allow something to my solitude. I have a pleasure in writing 
 to my dear child, and not many subjects to write upon. The 
 adventures of people here would not at all amuse you, 
 having no acquaintance with the persons concerned ; and an 
 accoimt of myself would hardly gain credit, after having 
 
 ' The reader need not be informed that Lady Mary's guess if as incorrect. — T. 
 ' The History of Cornelia [a novel], 1751.— T. 
 
 ' Probably Eleanora, or a Tragical but True Case of Incest in Great Britain, 
 a novel published in 1761. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 223 
 
 fairly owned to you how deplorably I was misled in regard to 
 my own health ; though I have all my life been on my guard 
 against the information by the sense of hearing ; it being one 
 of my earliest observations, the universal inclination of human- 
 kind is to be led by the ears; and I am sometimes apt to 
 imagine, that they are given to men, as they are to pitchers, 
 purposely that they may be carried about by them. This con- 
 sideration should abate my wonder to see (as I do here) the 
 most astonishing legends embraced as the most sacred truths, 
 by those who have always heard them asserted, and never 
 contradicted ; they even place a merit in complying in direct 
 opposition to the evidence of all their other senses. 
 
 I am very much pleased with the account you give me of 
 your father's health. I hope yom* own, and that of your 
 family, is perfect ; give my blessing to your little ones, and my 
 compliments to Lord Bute, and think me ever 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE.^ 
 
 Mt dear Child, — 'Tis impossible to tell you to what 
 degree I share with you in the misfortune that has happened. 
 I do not doubt your own reason will suggest to you all the 
 alleviations that can serve on so sad an occasion, and will not 
 trouble you with the common-place topics that are rised, gene- 
 rally to no purpose, in letters of consolation. Disappoint- 
 ments ought to be less sensible at my age than yours ; yet I 
 own I am so far affected by this, that I have need of all my 
 philosophy to support it. However, let me beg of you not to 
 indulge in useless grief, to the prejudice of your health, which 
 is so necessary to your family. Everything may turn out 
 better than you expect. We see so darkly into futurity, we 
 never know when we have a real cause to rejoice or lament. 
 The worst appearances have often happy consequences, as the 
 best lead many times into the greatest misfortunes. Human 
 prudence is very straitly bounded. What is most in our 
 
 • This letter has been dated in previotis editions, " Loyere, Aug. 20, 1752." 
 The original has no date. — T. 
 
224 CORKESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 power, though little so, is the disposition of our own minds. 
 Do not give way to melancholy ; seek amusements ; be willing 
 to be diverted, and insensibly you will become so. Weak 
 people only place a merit in affliction. A grateful remem- 
 brance, and whatever honour we can pay to their memory, is 
 all that is owing to the dead. Tears and sorrow are no duties 
 to them, and make us incapable of those we owe to the living. 
 
 I give you thanks for your care of my books. I yet retain, 
 and carefully cherish, my taste for reading. If relays of eyes 
 were to be hired like post-horses, I would never admit any but 
 silent companions : they afford a constant variety of entertain- 
 ment, and is almost the only one pleasing in the enjoyment, 
 and inoffensive in the consequence. I am sorry your sight 
 wUl not permit you a great use of it : the prattle of your little 
 ones, and the friendship of Lord Bute, will supply the place 
 of it. My dear child, endeavour to raise your spirits, and 
 believe this advice comes from the tenderness of 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments and sincere condolence to Lord Bute. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Jan. 28, N.S. [1753]. 
 
 Dear Child, — You have given me a great deal of satis- 
 faction by your account of your eldest daughter. I am par- 
 ticularly pleased to hear she is a good arithmetician ; it is the 
 best proof of understanding: the knowledge of numbers is 
 one of the chief distinctions between us and the brutes. If 
 there is anything in blood, you may reasonably expect your 
 children should be endowed with an uncommon share of good 
 sense. Mr. Wortley's family and mine have both produced some 
 of the greatest men that have been bom in England : I mean 
 Admiral Sandwich, and my grandfather, who was distin- 
 guished by the name of Wise William.' I have heard Lord 
 Bute's father mentioned as an extraordiaary genius, though 
 he had not many opportunities of showing it ; and his uncle, 
 
 ' William Pierrepont, second son of Robert Earl of Kingston, died 1679, 
 an-ed seventy-one. — D. 
 
MR. WOKTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 225 
 
 the present Duke of Argyll,' has one of the best heads I ever 
 knew. I will therefore speak to you as supposing Lady Mary 
 not only capable, but desirous of learning : in that case by all 
 means let her be indulged in it. You will tell me I did not 
 make it a part of your education : your prospect was very dif- 
 ferent from hers. As you had no defect either in mind or 
 person to hinder, and much in your circumstances to attract, 
 the highest offers, it seemed your business to learn how to live 
 in the world, as it is hers to know how to be easy out of it. It 
 is the common error of builders and parents to follow some 
 plan they think beautiful (and perhaps is so), without con- 
 sidering that nothing is beautiful that is displaced. Hence we 
 see so many edifices raised that the raisers can never inhabit, 
 being too large for their fortunes. Vistas are laid open over 
 barren heaths, and apartments contrived for a coolness very 
 agreeable in Italy, but killing in the north of Britain : thus 
 every woman endeavours to breed her daughter a fine lady, 
 qualifying her for a station in which she will never appear, 
 and at the same time incapacitating her for that retirement to 
 which she is destined. Learning, if she has a real taste for it, 
 will not only make her contented, but happy in it. No enter- 
 tainment is so cheap as reading, nor any pleasure so lasting. 
 She will not want new fashions, nor regret the loss of expen- 
 sive diversions, or variety of company, if she can be amused 
 with an author in her closet. To render this amusement ex- 
 tensive, she should be permitted to learn the languages. I 
 have heard it lamented that boys lose so many years in mere 
 learning of words : this is no objection to a girl, whose time is 
 not so precious : she cannot advance herself in any profession, 
 and has therefore more hours to spare ; and as you say her 
 memory is good, she will be very agreeably employed this 
 way. There are two cautions to be given on this subject : 
 first, not to think herself learned when she can read Latin, or 
 even Greek. Languages are more properly to be called ve- 
 hicles of learning than learning itself, as may be observed in 
 
 ' The Duke of Argyll here mentioned was Archibald, who, before he succeeded 
 his brother, John Duke of Argyll, in the dukedom, was Earl of Islay. — W. 
 
 VOL. II. Q 
 
226 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 many schoolmasters, who, though perhaps critics in grammar, 
 are the most ignorant fellows upon earth. True knowledge 
 consists in knowing things, not words. I would wish her no 
 further a linguist than to enable her to read books in their 
 originals, that are often corrupted, and always injured, by 
 translations. Two hours' application every morning will bring 
 this about much sooner than you can imagine, and she will 
 have leisure enough besides to run over the English poetry, 
 which is a more important part of a woman's education than 
 it is generally supposed. Many a young damsel has been 
 ruined by a fine copy of verses, which she would have laughed 
 at if she had known it had been stolen from Mr. Waller. 1 
 remember, when I was a girl, I saved one of my companions 
 from destruction, who communicated to me an epistle she was 
 quite charmed with. As she had a natural good taste, she 
 observed the lines were not so smooth as Prior's or Pope's, but 
 had more thought and spirit than any of theirs. She was 
 wonderfully delighted with such a demonstration of her lover's 
 sense and passion, and not a little pleased with her own 
 charms, that had force enough to inspire such elegancies. In 
 the midst of this triumph I showed her that they were taken 
 from Randolph's poems, and the unfortunate transcriber was 
 dismissed with the scorn he deserved. To say truth, the poor 
 plagiary was very unlucky to fall into my hands ; that author 
 being no longer in fashion, would have escaped any one of 
 less universal reading than myself. You should encourage 
 your daughter to talk over with you what she reads ; and, as 
 you are very capable of distinguishing, take care she does not 
 mistake pert folly for wit and humour, or rhyme for poetry, 
 which are the common errors of young people, and have a 
 train of ill consequences. The second caution to be given her 
 (and which is most absolutely necessary) is to conceal what- 
 ever learning she attains, with as much solicitude as she would 
 hide crookedness or lameness ; the parade of it can only serve 
 to draw on her the envy, and consequently the most inveterate 
 hatred, of all he and she fools, which will certainly be at 
 least three parts in four of all her acquaintance. The use of 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 227 
 
 knowledge in our sex, besides the amusement of solitude, is to 
 moderate the passions, and learn to be contented with a small 
 expense, which are the certain effects of a studious life ; and 
 it may be preferable even to that fame which men have en- 
 grossed to themselves, and will not suffer us to share. You 
 will tell me I have not observed this rule myself ; but you are 
 mistaken : it is only inevitable accident that has given me any 
 reputation that way. I have always carefully avoided it, and 
 ever thought it a misfortune. The explanation of this para- 
 graph woidd occasion a long digression, which I will not 
 trouble you with, it being my present design only to say what 
 I think useful for the instruction of my granddaughter, which 
 I have much at heart. If she has the same inclination (I 
 should say passion) for learning that I was bom with, history, 
 geography, and philosophy will furnish her with materials to 
 pass away cheerfully a longer life than is allotted to mortals. 
 I believe there are few heads capable of making Sir I. New- 
 ton's calculations, but the result of them is not difficult to be 
 understood by a moderate capacity. Do not fear this should 
 
 make her affect the character of Lady , or Lady , 
 
 or Mrs. :' those women are ridiculous, not because they 
 
 have learning, but because they have it not. One thinks her- 
 self a complete historian, after reading Echard's Roman His- 
 tory ; another a profound philosopher, having got by heart 
 some of Pope's uninteUigible essays ; and a third an able 
 divine, on the strength of Whitefield's sermons : thus you hear 
 them screaming politics and controversy. 
 
 It is a saying of Thucydides, ignorance is bold, and know- 
 ledge reserved. Indeed, it is impossible to be far advanced in 
 it without being more humbled by a conviction of human 
 ignorance, than elated by learning. At the same time I re- 
 commend books, I neither exclude work nor drawing. I think 
 it as scandalous for a woman not to know how to use a needle, 
 as for a man not to know how to use a sword. I was once 
 extreme fond of my pencil, and it was a great mortification 
 to me when my father turned off my master, having made a 
 
 ' The blanks are in the original. — T. 
 
 q2 
 
228 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 considerable progress for a short time I learnt. My over- 
 eagerness in the pursuit of it had brought a weakness on my 
 eyes, that made it necessary to leave it off ; and all the advan- 
 tage I got was the improvement of my hand. I see, by hers, 
 that practice will make her a ready writer : she may attain it 
 by serving you for a secretary, when your health or affairs 
 make it troublesome to you to write yourself; and custom 
 will make it an agreeable amusement to her. She cannot 
 have too many for that station of life which will probably be 
 her fate. The ultimate end of your education was to make 
 you a good wife (and I have the comfort to hear that you are 
 one) : hers ought to be, to make her happy in a virgin state. 
 I will not say it is happier ; but it is undoubtedly safer than 
 any marriage. In a lottery, where there are (at the lowest 
 computation) ten thousand blanks to a prize, it is the most 
 prudent choice not to venture. I have always been so tho- 
 roughly persuaded of this truth, that, notwithstanding the 
 flattering views I had for you (as I never intended you a 
 sacrifice to my vanity), I thought I owed you the justice to 
 lay before you all the hazards attending matrimony : you may 
 recollect I did so in the strongest manner. Perhaps you may 
 have more success in the instructing your daughter : she has 
 so much company at home, she will not need seeking it abroad, 
 and will more readily take the notions you think fit to give 
 her. As you were alone in my family, it would have been 
 thought a great cruelty to suffer you no companions of your 
 own. age, especially having so many near relations, and I do 
 not wonder their opinions influenced yours. I was not sorry 
 to see you not deteiinined on a single life, knowing it was not 
 your father's intention, and contented myself with endeavour- 
 ing to make your home so easy that you might not be in 
 haste to leave it. 
 
 I am afraid you will think this a very long and insignificant 
 letter. I hope the kindness of the design will excuse it, being 
 willing to give you every proof in my power that I am 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 229 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 March 6 [1753J. 
 
 I CANNOT help writing a sort of apology for my last letter, 
 foreseeing that you will think it wrong, or at least Lord Bute 
 will be extremely shocked at the proposal of a learned educa- 
 tion for daughters, which the generality of men believe as 
 great a profanation as the clergy would do if the laity should 
 presume to exercise the functions of the priesthood. I desire 
 you would take notice, I would not have learning enjoined 
 them as a task, but pennitted as a pleasure, if their genius 
 leads them naturally to it. I look upon my granddaughters 
 as a sort of lay nuns : destiny may have laid up other things 
 for them, but they have no reason to expect to pass their time 
 otherwise than their aunts do at present ; and I know, by ex- 
 perience, it is in the power of study not only to make solitude 
 tolerable, but agreeable. I have now lived almost seven years 
 in a stricter retirement than yours in the Isle of Bute, and 
 can assure you, I have never had half an hour heavy on my 
 hands, for want of something to do. Whoever will cultivate 
 their own mind, will find full employment. Every virtue does 
 not only require great care in the planting, but as much daily 
 solicitude in cherishing, as exotic fruits and flowers. The 
 vices and passions (which I am afraid are the natural product 
 of the soil) demand perpetual weeding. Add to this the 
 search after knowledge (every branch of which is entertain- 
 ing), and the longest life is too short for the pursuit of it ; 
 which, though in some regards confined to very strait limits, 
 leaves stiU a vast variety of amusements to those capable of 
 tasting them, which is utterly impossible for those that are 
 bUnded by prejudices which are the certain effect of an 
 ignorant education. My own was one of the worst in the 
 world, being exactly the same as Clarissa Harlowe's ; her 
 pious Mrs. Norton so perfectly resembUng my governess, who 
 had been nurse to my mother, I could almost fancy the author 
 was acquainted with her. She took so much pains, from my 
 infancy, to fill my head with superstitious tales and false 
 
230 , COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 notions, it was none of her fault I am not at this day afraid 
 of witches and hobgobHns, or turned methodist. Almost all 
 girls are bred after this .manner. I believe you are the only 
 woman (perhaps I might say, person) that never was either 
 frighted or cheated into anything by your parents. I can 
 truly affirm, I never deceived anybody in my Hf e, excepting 
 (which I confess has often happened undesignedly) by speak- 
 ing plainly ; as Earl Stanhope used to say (during his ministry) 
 he always imposed on the foreign ministers by telling them 
 the naked truth, which, as they thought impossible to come 
 from the mouth of a statesman, they never failed to write in- 
 formations to their respective courts directly contrary to the 
 assurances he gave them : most people confounding the ideas 
 of sense and cunning, though there are really no two things 
 in nature more opposite : it is, in part, from this false reason- 
 ing, the unjust custom prevails of debarring our sex from the 
 advantages of learning, the men fancying the improvement of 
 our understandings would only furnish us with more art to 
 deceive them, which is directly contrary to the truth. Fools 
 are jalways enterprising, not seeing the difficulties of deceit, 
 or the ill consequences of detection. I could give many ex- 
 amples of ladies whose ill conduct has been very notorious, 
 which has been owing to that ignorance which has exposed 
 them to idleness, which is justly called the mother of 
 mischief. There is nothing so like the education of a 
 woman of quality as that of a prince : they are taught 
 to dance, and the exterior part of what is called good breed- 
 ing, which, if they attain, they are extraordinary creatures in 
 their kind, and have all the accomplishments required by their 
 directors. The same characters are formed by the same lessons, 
 which incHnes me to think (if I dare say it) that nature has 
 not placed us in an inferior rank to men, no more than the 
 females of other animals, where we see no distinction of ca- 
 pacity; though, I am persuaded, if there was a common- 
 wealth of rational horses (as Doctor Swift has supposed), it 
 would be an established maxim among them, that a mare 
 could not be taught to pace. I could add a great deal on this 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 231 
 
 subject, but I am not now endeavouring to remove the pre- 
 judices of mankind ; my only design is, to point out to my 
 granddaughters the method of being contented with that 
 retreat, to which probably their circumstances will oblige 
 them, and which is perhaps preferable to all the show of pubUc 
 life. It has always been my inclination. Lady Stafford (who 
 knew me better than anybody else in the world, both from her 
 own just discernment, and my heart being ever as open to her 
 as myself) used to tell me, my trpe vocation was a monastery ; 
 and I now find, by experience, more sincere pleasures with 
 my books and garden, than all the flutter of a court could 
 give me. 
 
 If you follow my advice in relation to Lady Mary, my cor- 
 respondence may be of use to her ; and I shall very wUhngly 
 give her those instructions that may be necessary in the pursuit 
 of her studies. Before her age I was in the most regular 
 commerce with my grandmother, though the difference of our 
 time of Hfe was much greater, she being past forty-five when 
 she married my grandfather. She died at ninety-six, retain- 
 ing, to the last, the vivacity and clearness of her understand- 
 ing, which was very uncommon. You cannot remember her, 
 being then Ln your nurse's arms."^ I conclude with repeating to 
 you, I only recommend, but am far from commanding, which 
 I think I have no right to do. I tell you my sentiments, be- 
 cause you desired to know them, and hope you will receive 
 them with some partiality, as coming from 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 I have asked you over and over if you have received my 
 letter to my sister Mar ? 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 March 16, N S., 1753. 
 
 Dear Child, — I received yours of December 20th this 
 morning, which gave me great pleasure, by the account of 
 your good health, and that of your father. I know nothing 
 
 * Lady Mary alludes to her maternal grandmother, Mary Countess Dowager of 
 Denbigh. Her death is recorded in Brockwel'a Chronological History for 1719, 
 under date of December 9. Lady Bute was then not two years old. — T. 
 
232 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 else could give me any at present, being sincerely afflicted for 
 the death of the Doge.' He is lamented here by all ranks of 
 people, as their common parent. He really answered the idea 
 of Lord Bolingbroke's imaginary Patriot Prince, and was the 
 only example I ever knew 'oi having passed through the 
 greatest employments, and most important negotiations, with- 
 out ever making an enemy. When I was at Venice, which 
 was some months before his election, he was the leading voice 
 in the senate, and possessed of so strong a popularity as would 
 have been dangerous in the hands of a bad man : yet he had 
 the art to silence envy ; and I never once heard an objection 
 to his character, or even an insinuation to his disadvantage. 
 I attribute this peculiar happiness to be owing to the sincere 
 benevolence of his heart, joined with an easy cheerfulness of 
 temper, which made him agreeable to all companies, and a 
 blessing to all his dependents. Authority appeared so aimahle 
 in him, no one wished it less, except himself, who would some- 
 times lament the weight of it, as robbing him too much of the 
 conversation of his friends, in which he placed his chief de- 
 light, being so little ambitious, that (to my certain knowledge), 
 far from caballing to gain that elevation to which he was 
 raised, he would have refused it, if he had not looked upon 
 the acceptance of it as a duty due to his country. This is only 
 speaking of him in the public light. As to myself, he always 
 professed, and gave me every demonstration of, the most cor- 
 dial friendship. Indeed, I received every good office from 
 him I could have expected from a tender father, or a kind 
 brother ; and though I have not seen him since my last return 
 to Italy, he never omitted an opportunity of expressing the 
 greatest regard for me, both in his discourse to others, and 
 upon all occasions where he thought he could be useful to 
 me. I do not doubt I shall very sensibly miss the influence of 
 his good Intentions. 
 
 You will think. I dwell too long on this melancholy subject. 
 I will turn to one widely different, in taking notice 6i the 
 dress of you London ladies, who, I find, take up the Italian 
 
 * Pietro Grimani died 1752. He was elected Doge of Venice in 1741, and was 
 succeeded by Francesco Loredano. — D. 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHEKS. 233 
 
 fashion of going in your hair : it is here only the custom of 
 the peasants and the unmarried women of quality, excepting 
 in the heat of summer, when any cap would be almost insup- 
 portable. I have often smUed to myself in viewing our assem- 
 blies (which they call conversations) at Lovere, the gentlemen 
 being all in light nightcaps and nightgowns (under which, I 
 am informed, they wear no breeches) and slippers, and the 
 ladies in their stays and smock-sleeves, tied with ribands, and 
 a single lutestring petticoat : there is not a hat or a hoop to be 
 seen. It is true this dress is called vestimenti di confidenza, 
 and they do not appear in it in town, but in their own cham- 
 bers, and that only during the summer months. 
 
 My paper admonishes me to conclude, by assuring you that 
 I am ever 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to my G. 
 [Grand] children. You will send me Lord Orrery and Lord 
 Bolingbroke's books. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 April 2, N.S. [1753]. 
 
 Mt dear Child, — I am very glad to hear of your health 
 and recovery, being always uneasy till your danger is over. 
 I wish you joy of your young son,' and that you may have 
 comfort in your numerous family. 
 
 I am not surprised to hear the Duke of Kingston remains 
 unmarried : he is, I fear, surrounded with people whose in- 
 terest it is he should continue so. I desire to know the name 
 of his present inclination. By the manner you speak of it, I 
 suppose there is no occasion of the nicety of avoiding her 
 name. I am sorry the P. [Prince]' has an episcopal education : 
 
 ' Charles, afterwards Lieutenant-General Sir Charles Stuart, bom in January, 
 1763.— T. 
 
 2 Afterwards George the Third. Lady Bute had probably informed Lady Mary 
 of the resignation of the Bishop of Norwich as preceptor to the prince. Lord 
 Waldegrave (Memoirs, 4to, 1821, p. 36) says: "The Earl of Harcourt and the 
 Bishop of Norwich were soon disgraced, because they attempted to form an interest 
 independent of the mother, and presumed, on some occasions, to have an opinion of 
 their own." The bishop was succeeded immediately afterwards by Dr. John Thomas, 
 Bishop of Peterborough, and afterwards Bishop of Salisbury. See Dodington's 
 Diary, under date of January 9, 1753. — T. 
 
234 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 he cannot have a worse, both for himself and the nation : 
 though the court of England is no more personally to me than 
 the court of Pekin, yet I cannot help some concern for my 
 native country, nor can I see any good purpose from Church 
 precepts, except they design him to take orders. I confess, if 
 I was king of Great Britain, I would certainly be also arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury ; but I believe that is a refinement of 
 pohtics that will never enter into the heads of our managers, 
 though there is no other way of having supreme power in 
 church and state. I could say a great deal in favour of this 
 idea ; but, as neither you nor I will ever be consulted on the 
 subject, I will not trouble you with my speculative notions. 
 
 I am very much pleased to hear of your father's good 
 health. That every blessing may attend you is the earnest 
 and sincere wish of, dear child, 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compHments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 June 3, N.S. [1763]. 
 
 My dear Child, — You see I was not mistaken in suppos- 
 ing we should have disputes concerning your daughters, if we 
 were together, since we can differ even at this distance. The 
 sort of learning that I recommended is not so expensive, either 
 of time or money, as dancing, and in my opinion likely to be 
 of much more use to Lady M. [Mary], if her memory and 
 apprehension are what you represented them to me. However, 
 every one has a right to educate their children after their own 
 way, and I shall speak no more on that subject. I was so 
 much pleased with the character you gave her, that, had there 
 been any possibility of her undertaking so long a journey, I 
 should certainly have asked for her ; and I think out of such 
 a number you might have spared her. I own my affection 
 prevailed over my judgment in this thought, since nothing, 
 can be more imprudent than undertaking the management 
 of another's child. I verily believe that, had I carried six 
 daughters out of England with me, I could have disposed of 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGlU AND OTHERS. 235 
 
 them all advantageously. The winter I passed at Rome there 
 was an unusual concourse of Enghsh, many of them with 
 great estates, and their own masters : as they had no admit- 
 tance to the Roman ladies, nor understood the language, they 
 had no way of passing their evenings but in my apartment, 
 where I had always a full drawing-room. Their governors 
 encoiu-aged their assidvuties as much as they could, finding I 
 gave them lessons of economy and good conduct; and my 
 authority was so great, it was a common threat amongst them, 
 I'U tell Lady Mary what you say. I was judge of aU their 
 disputes, and my decisions always submitted to. While I stayed, 
 there was neither gaming, drinking, quarrelling, or keeping. 
 The Abb6 Grant (a very honest, good natured North Briton, 
 who has resided several years at Rome) was so much amazed 
 at this uncommon regularity, he would have made me beUeve 
 I was bound in conscience to pass my life there, for the good 
 of my countrymen. I can assure you my vanity was not at 
 all raised by this influence over them, knowing very well that 
 had Lady Charlotte de Roussi^ been in my place, it would 
 have been the same thing. There is that general emulation 
 in mankind, I am fully persuaded if a dozen young fellows 
 bred a bear amongst them, and saw no other creatiu'e, they 
 would every day fall out for the bear's favours, and be 
 extremely flattered by any mark of distinction shown by that 
 ugly animal. Since my last return to Italy, which is now 
 near seven years,^ I have lived in solitude not unlike that of 
 Robinson Crusoe, excepting my short trips to Lovere : my 
 whole time is spent in my closet and garden, without regretting 
 any conversation but that of my own family. The study of 
 
 * Lady Charlotte de Eoussi was a Mademoiselle de Roussi, an unmarried woman 
 of noble birth, who became a refugee from adhering to her religion. As this was 
 the case with few of the French people of distinction, our court took her under 
 its particular protection, and gave her the rank of an earl's daughter. At the 
 time Lady Mary thus mentioned her she was a very good old lady, but not very 
 brilliant. — W. She was governess to the children of George the Second. Her 
 father. Count de Roussi, was a French Protestant refugee, and was created Earl of 
 Lifford. Lord Hervey alludes to her in his Poetical Epistle to the Queen : 
 " Charlotte and Schutz like angry monkeys chatter. 
 None guessing what's the language or the matter." — T. 
 
 ^ Lady Mary left Avignon in August, 1746. — T. 
 
236 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 simples is a new amusement to me. I have no correspondence 
 with anybody at London but yourself and your father, whom 
 I have not heard from for a long time. I am much mortified 
 that the post (or perhaps my own servants) take so little care 
 of my letters. By your account there are at least four of 
 mine lost and some of yours. I have only received a few lines 
 from you since you lay in, till this morning. I have often 
 asked you if you have had the letter I enclosed for my sister 
 Mar ? I have wrote to Lord Bute and to my granddaughter, 
 of which you take no notice, which makes me fear they have 
 miscarried. My best wishes attend you and yours, being with 
 great truth 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 [Lovere] July 23, N.S. [1753]. 
 
 My dear Child, — I have just received two letters from 
 you, though the dates are a month distant. The death of 
 Lady Carolina' naturally raises the mortifying reflection, on 
 how slender a thread hangs all worldly prosperity ! I cannot 
 say I am otherwise much touched at it. It is true she was my 
 sister, as it were in some sense ; but her behaviour to me 
 never gave me any love, nor her general conduct any esteem. 
 The confounding of all ranks, and maldng a jest of order, has 
 long been growing in England ; and I perceive, by the books 
 you sent me, has made a very considerable progress. The 
 heroes and heroines of the age are cobblers and kitchen wenches. 
 Perhaps you will say, I should not take my ideas of the man- 
 ners of the times from such trifling authors ; but it is more 
 truly to be fovmd among them, than from any historian : as 
 they write merely to get money, they always fall into the 
 notions that are most acceptable to the present taste. It has 
 
 ' Lady Carolina Pierrepont, married to Thomas Brand, Esq., of the Hoo in Hert- 
 fordshire, grandfather of the present [18373 Lord Dacre. — W. Horace Walpole, 
 writing to George Montagu, June 11, 1753, says : " Poor Lady Caroline Brand is 
 dead of a rheumatic fever, and her husband as miserable a man as ever he wag a 
 cheerful one. I grieve much for her, and pity him. They were infinitely happy, 
 and lived in the most perfect friendship I ever saw." Walpole repeatedly refers 
 to their happy marriage.— T. 
 
MK. WOKTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 237 
 
 long been the endeavour of our English writers to represent 
 people of quality as the vilest and silliest part of the nation, 
 being (generally) very low-born themselves. 1 am not sur- 
 prised at their propagating this doctrine ; but I am much mis- 
 taken if this levelhng principle does not, one day or other, 
 break out in fatal consequences to the public, as it has already 
 done in many private families. You will think I am influ- 
 enced by living under an aristocratic government, where dis- 
 tinction of rank is carried to a very great height ; but I can 
 assure you my opinion is founded on reflection and experience, 
 and I wish to God I had always thought in the same manner ; 
 though I had ever the utmost contempt for misalliances, yet 
 the silly prejudices of my education had taught me to believe 
 I was to treat nobody as an inferior, and that poverty was a 
 degree of merit : this imaginary humility has made me admit 
 many familiar acquaintances, of which I have heartily repented 
 every one, and the greatest examples I have known of honour 
 and integrity have been among those of the highest birth and 
 fortunes. There are many reasons why it should be so, which 
 I will not trouble you with. If my letter was to be published, 
 I know I should be railed at for pride, and called an enemy 
 of the poor; but I take a pleasure in telling you my real 
 thoughts. I would willingly establish the most intimate 
 friendship between us, and I am sure no proof of it shall ever 
 be wanting on my side. 
 
 I am sorry for the untimely death of poor Lord Combury ;i 
 he had certainly a very good heart : 1 have often thought it 
 great pity it was not under the direction of a better head. I 
 had lost his favour some time before I left England on a plea- 
 sant account. He comes to me one morning with a hat full 
 of paper, which he desired me to peruse, and tell him my sin- 
 cere opinion : I trembled at the proposition, foreseeing tlie 
 inevitable consequence of this confidence. However, I was 
 
 ' Lord Combury died in Paris in May, 1753, in consequence of a fall from a 
 horse. He was the friend of Pope, to whom the latter alludes in the lines : 
 '* Would you be blest ? despise low joys, low gains ; 
 Disdain whatever Cornbury disdains ; 
 Be virtuous and be happy for your pains." — T. 
 
238 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 not so barbarous to tell him that his verses were extreme 
 stupid (as God knows they were), and that he was no more 
 inspired with the spirit of poetry than that of prophecy. I 
 contented myself with representing to him, in the mildest 
 terms, that it was not the business of a man of quality to turn 
 author, and that he should confine himself to the applause 
 of his friends, and by no means venture on the press. He 
 seemed to take this advice with good humour, .promised to fol- 
 low it, and we parted without any dispute ; but, alas ! he could 
 not help showing his performance to better judges, who with 
 their usual candour and good nature, earnestly exhorted him 
 to oblige the world with this instructive piece, which was soon 
 after published, and had the success I expected from it, and 
 Pope persuaded him, poor soul ! that my declaiming against 
 it occasioned the ill reception it met with, though this is the 
 first time I ever mentioned it in my life, and I did not so much 
 as guess the reason I heard of him no more, till a few days 
 before I left London. I accidentally said to one of his 
 acquaintance his visits to me were at an end, I knew not why ; 
 and I was let into this weighty secret. My journey prevented 
 aU explanation between us, and perhaps I should not have 
 thought it worth any, if I had stayed. I am not surprised he 
 has left nothing to the D. [Duchess] of Q. [Queensberry],' 
 knowing he had no value for her, though I never heard him 
 name her : but he was of that species of mankind, who, with- 
 out designing it, discover all they think to any observer that 
 converses with them. His desire of fixing his name to a cer- 
 tain quantity of wall, is one instance, among thousands, of the 
 passion men have for perpetuating their memory : this weak- 
 ness (I call every sentiment so that cannot be defended by 
 reason) is so universal, it may be looked on as instinct ; and 
 as no instinct is implanted but to some purpose, I could almost 
 incline to an opinion, which was professed by several of the 
 fathers, and adopted by some of the best French divines, that 
 the punishment of the next life consists not only in the con- 
 
 ' She was Lord Cornbury's sister. — W". 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 239 
 
 tinuance, but the redoubling our attachment for this, in a more 
 intense manner than we can now have any notion of. These 
 reflections would carry me very far : for your comfort, my 
 paper is at an end, and I have scarce room to tell you a truth 
 which admits of no doubt, that I am 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to my G. 
 [Grand] children. I have wrote to Lady Mary. Have you 
 received that addressed to my sister Mar ? 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Lovere, Sept. 10, O.S. [1753]. 
 
 Dear Child, — I am much obliged to your father for show- 
 ing you my letter, being persuaded he meant kindly to me, 
 though it was not wrote with the intention of being shown ; 
 it is not the first time I have made him the same declaration 
 of my opinion of Lord Bute's character, which has ever been 
 my sentiment ; and had I thought differently I would never 
 have given my consent to your marriage, notwithstanding your 
 incUnation ; to which, however, I thought it just to pay a 
 great regard. I have seldom been mistaken in my first judg- 
 ment of those I thought it worth while to consider ; and when 
 (which has happened too often) flattery or the persuasion of 
 others has made me alter it, time has never failed to show me 
 I had done better to have remained fixed in my first (which is 
 ever the most unprejudiced) idea. My health is so often dis- 
 ordered, that I begin to be as weary of it as mending old lace ; 
 when it is patched in one place it breaks in another. I can 
 expect nothing better at my time of life, and will not trouble 
 you with talking any more about it. 
 
 If the new servant of the princess is the Miss Pitt' I knew, 
 I am sorry for it. I am afraid I know her very well ; and yet 
 
 ' Mrs. Anne Pitt, sister of the first Lord Chatham, whom she strikingly re- 
 sembled in features and in ability. She was a particular friend of Lady Bute's ; 
 but their intimacy had scarcely begun when she obtained the place of Privy purse 
 to the Princess Dowager of Wales. — W. 
 
240 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 I fancy 'tis a younger sister, since you call her Anne, and I 
 think the name of my acquaintance was Mary ; she, I mean, 
 left France a short time before I went thither. I have some 
 curiosity to know how pious Lady Ferrers^^ behaves to her new 
 daughter-in-law. My letter is cut short by company; they 
 wait while I tell you I am always 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to the little 
 ones, who I hope are recovered by this time of their distemper. 
 
 I recollect myself; I was mistaken in Mrs. Pitt's name, it is 
 Anne ; she has wit, but ^ [_sic] 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Oct. 10 [1753]. 
 
 This letter will be very dull or very peevish (perhaps both). 
 I am at present much out of humour, being on the edge of a 
 quarrel with my friend and patrOn, the C* He is really a 
 good natured and generous man, and spends his vast revenue 
 in (what he thinks) the service of his country, besides contri- 
 buting largely to the building of a new cathedral, which, when 
 finished, will stand in the rank of fine churches (where he has 
 
 ' Selina, daughter of George Finch, and -widow of the first Earl Ferrers. The 
 marriage of her son, Mr. Shirley, to the notorious Lady Orford, has already been 
 alluded to.— T. 
 
 2 Lady Mary's " but " probably refers to Miss Pitt's notorious impetuo.sity 
 
 of temper. Horace Walpole gives the following account of her (Memoirs of the 
 Reign of King George the Third, i. 85) : " She had been maid of honour to Queen 
 Caroline, and was warmly attached to her brother, with whom she lived. On his 
 promotion to the Pay-office he had shaken her off in an unbecoming manner. She 
 had excellent parts and strong passions. Lord Bolingbroke had recommended her 
 to the late prince, on whose death she had been made Privy purse to the princess ; 
 but, being of an intriguing and most ambitious nature, she soon destroyed her own 
 prospect by an impetuosity to govern her mistress, and by embarking in other 
 cabals at that court. Her disgrace followed, but without dismission ; on which she 
 had retired to France, On her return, though she could never recover the favour 
 of the princess, she so successfully cultivated the patronage of Lord and Lady Bute, 
 that she kept her ground at Leicester-fields, and obtained a large pension. This she 
 had notified by letter to her brother. He had coldly replied, that he congratulated 
 her on the addition to her fortune, but was grieved to see the name of Pitt in a list 
 of pensions. On his accepting one, she copied his own letter, turning it against 
 himself, and though restrained by her friends from sending it to him, she repeated 
 what she had done tUl it became the common talk of the town. She afterwards 
 turned Catholic, and died insane. — T. 
 
 3 The Cardinal Querini. See post, p. 272. — T. 
 
MK. WORTLKY MONTAGU AND OTHEES. 241 
 
 already the comfort of seeing his own busto), finely done both 
 within and without. He has founded a magnificent college for 
 one hundred scholars, which I don't doubt he will endow very 
 nobly, and greatly enlarged and embellished his episcopal 
 palace. He has joined to it a public library, which, when I 
 saw it, was a very beautiful room : it is now finished and fur- 
 nished, and open twice in a week with proper attendance. Yes- 
 terday here arrived one of his chief chaplains, with a long com- 
 pliment, which concluded with desiring I would send him my 
 works ; having dedicated one of his cases to English books, he 
 intended my labours should appear in the most conspicuous 
 place. I was struck dumb for some time with this astonishing 
 request ; when I recovered my vexatious surprise (foreseeing 
 the consequence), I made answer, I was highly sensible of the 
 honour designed me, but, upon my word, I had never printed 
 a single line in my fife. I was answered in a cold tone, his 
 eminence could send for them to England, but they would be 
 a long time coming, and with some hazard ; and that he had 
 flattered himself I would not refuse him such a favour, and I 
 need not be ashamed of seeing my name in a collection where 
 he admitted none but the most eminent authors. It was to 
 no purpose to endeavour to convince him. He would not stay 
 dinner, though earnestly invited ; and went away with the air 
 of one that thought he had reason to be offended. I know his 
 master will have the same sentiments, and I shall pass in his 
 opinion for a monster of ingratitude, while it is the blackest 
 of vices in my opinion, and of which I am utterly incapable — 
 I really could cry for vexation. 
 
 Sure nobody ever had such various provocations to print as 
 myself. I have seen things I have wrote, so mangled and 
 falsified, I have scarce known them. I have seen poems I 
 never read, published with my name at length ; and others, 
 that were truly and singly wrote by me, printed under the 
 names of others. I have made myself easy under all these 
 mortifications, by the reflection I did not deserve them, having 
 never aimed at the vanity of popular applause ; but 1 own my 
 
 VOL. II. R 
 
242 CORKESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 philosophy is not proof against losing a friend, and it may he 
 making an enemy of one to whom I am obliged. 
 
 I confess I have often been complimented, since I have 
 been in Italy, on the books I have given the public. I 
 used at first to deny it with some warmth ; but, Binding I per- 
 suaded nobody, I have of late contented myself with laughing 
 whenever I heard it mentioned, knowing the character of a 
 learned woman is far from being ridiculous in this country, 
 the greatest families being proud of having produced female 
 writers ; and a Milanese lady being now professor of mathe- 
 matics in the university of Bologna, invited thither by a most 
 obliging letter, wrote by the present Pope, who desired her to 
 accept of the chair, not as a recompense for her merit, but to 
 do honour to a town which is under his protection. To say 
 truth, there is no part of the world where our sex is treated 
 with so much contempt as in England. I do not complain of 
 men for having engrossed the government : in excluding us 
 from all degrees of power, they preserve us from many fatigues, 
 many dangers, and perhaps many crimes. The small propor- 
 tion of authority that has fallen to my share (only over a few 
 children and servants) has always been a burden, and never a 
 pleasure, and I believe every one finds it so who acts from a 
 maxim (I think an indispensable duty), that whoever is under 
 my power is under my protection. Those who find a joy in 
 inflicting hardships, and seeing objects of misery, may have 
 other sensations ; but I have always thought corrections, even 
 when necessary, as painful to the giver as to the sufferer, and 
 am therefore very well satisfied with the state of subjection 
 we are placed in : but I think it the highest injustice to be 
 debarred the entertainment of my closet, and that the same 
 studies which raise the character of a man should hurt that 
 of a woman. We are educated in the grossest ignorance, and 
 no art omitted to stifle our natural reason ; if some few get 
 above their nurses' instructions, our knowledge must rest con- 
 cealed, and be as useless to the world as gold in the mine. I 
 am now speaking according to our English notions, which 
 may wear out, some ages hence, along with others equally 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 243 
 
 absurd. It appears to me the strongest proof of a clear under- 
 standing in Longinus (in every light acknowledged one of the 
 greatest men among the ancients), when I find him so far 
 superior to vulgar prejudices as to choose his two examples of 
 fine writing from a Jew (at that time the most despised people 
 upon earth) and a woman. Our modern wits would be so far 
 from quoting, they would scarce own they had read the works 
 of such contemptible creatures, though, perhaps, they would 
 condescend to steal from them, at the same time they declared 
 they were below their notice. This subject is apt to run away 
 with me ; I will trouble you with no more of it. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours, 
 which are truly dear to 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Oct. 10, N.S. [1753]. 
 
 I THINK I now know why our correspondence is so mise- 
 rably interrupted, and so many of my letters lost to and from 
 England ; but I am no happier in the discovery than a man 
 that has found out his complaints proceed from a stone in the 
 kidneys ; I know the cause, but am entirely ignorant of the 
 remedy, and must suffer my uneasiness with what patience I 
 can. 
 
 An old priest made me a visit as I was folding my last 
 packet to my daughter. Observing it to be large, he told me 
 I had done a great deal of business that morning. I made 
 answer, I had done no business at all ; I had only wrote to 
 my daughter on family affairs, or such trifles as make up 
 women's conversation. He said gravely, people like your 
 excellenza do not use to write long letters upon trifles. I 
 assured him, that if he understood English, I would let him 
 read my letter. He repHed, with a mysterious smile, if I did 
 understand English, I should not understand what you have 
 written, except you would give me the key, which I durst not 
 presume to ask. What key 1 (said I, staring) there is not one 
 cypher besides the date. He answered, cyphers were only used 
 
 r2 
 
244 COEKESPONDENCE "WITH 
 
 by novices in politics, and it was very easy to write intelligibly, 
 under feigned names of persons and places, to a correspondent, 
 in such a manner as should be almost impossible to be under- 
 stood by anybody else. 
 
 Thus I suppose my innocent epistles are severely scruti- 
 nised : and when I talk of my grandchildren, they are fancied 
 to represent all the potentates of Europe. This is very pro- 
 voking. I confess there are good reasons for extraordinary 
 caution at this juncture ; but 'tis very hard I cannot pass for 
 being as insignificant as I really am. 
 
 The house at Acton was certainly left to Lady Carohna; and 
 whatever Lady Anne^ left [is] so little (when divided into five 
 parts), it is not worth inquiring for, especially after so long 
 silence. I heartily congratulate you on the recovery of your 
 sight. It is a blessing I prefer to life, and will seek for glasses 
 whenever I am in a place where they are sold. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Nov. 27, N.S. [1753]. 
 
 Deae Child, — By the account you give me of London, I 
 think it very much reformed ; at least you have one sin the 
 less, and it was a very reigning one in my time, I mean 
 scandal : it must be literally reduced to a whisper, since the 
 custom of living all together. I hope it has also banished the 
 fashion of talking all at once, which was very prevailing 
 when I was in town, and may perhaps contribute to brotherly 
 love and unity, which was so much declined in my memory, 
 that it was hard to invite six people that would not, by cold 
 looks, or piquing reflections, affront one another. 1 suppose 
 parties are at an end, though I fear it is the consequence of 
 the old almanac prophecy, " Poverty brings peace ;" and I 
 fancy you really follow the French mode, and the lady keeps 
 an assembly, that the assembly may keep the lady, and card 
 money pay for clothes and equipage, as well as cards and 
 
 ' The daughters of Evelyn Duke of Kingston, by Lady Isabella Bentinck, his 
 ■second wife. Lady Carolina Pierrepont died June 9, 1763. Lady Anne died in 
 1739, unmarried. — D. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 245 
 
 candles. I find I should be as solitary in London as I am 
 here in the country, it being impossible for me to submit to 
 live in a drum, which I think so far from a cure of uneasiness, 
 that it is, in my opinion, adding one more to the heap. There 
 are so many attached to humanity, 'tis impossible to fly from 
 them all ; but experience has confirmed to me (what I always 
 thought), that the pursuit of pleasure will be ever attended 
 with pain, and the study of ease be most certainly accom- 
 panied with pleasures. I have had this morning as much 
 dehght in a walk in the sun as ever I felt formerly in the 
 crowded Mall, even when I imagined I had my share of the 
 admiration of the place, which was generally soured before I 
 slept by the informations of my female friends, who seldom 
 failed to tell me, it was observed, I had showed an inch above 
 my shoe-heels, or some other criticism of equal weight, which 
 was construed affectation, and utterly destroyed all the satis- 
 faction my vanity had given me. I have now no other but in 
 my little housewifery, which is easily gratified in this country, 
 where, by the help of my receipt-book, I make a very shining 
 figure among my neighbours, by the introduction of custards, 
 cheesecakes, and minced pies, which were entirely unknown to 
 these parts, and are received with universal applause ; and I 
 have reason to believe will preserve my memory even to future 
 ages, particularly by the art of butter-making, in which I have 
 so improved them, that they now make as good as in any part 
 of England. 
 
 My paper is at an end, which I do not doubt you are glad 
 of. I have hardly room for my compliments to Lord Bute, 
 blessing to my grandchildren, and to assure you that I am 
 ever 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Dear Child, — I have wrote you so many letters without 
 any return, that if I loved you at all less than I do, I should 
 certainly give over writing. I received a kind letter last post 
 
246 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 from Lady Oxford, which gives me hopes I shall at length 
 receive yoiirs, being persuaded you have not neglected our 
 correspondence, though I am not so happy to have the pleasure 
 of it. 
 
 I have little to say from this solitude, having already sent 
 you a description of my garden, which, with my books, takes 
 up all my time. I made a small excursion last week to visit a 
 nunnery twelve miles from hence, which is the only institu- 
 tion of the kind in all Italy. It is in a town in the state of 
 Mantua, founded by a princess of the house of Gonzaga, one 
 of whom (now very old) is the present abbess : they are dressed 
 in black, and wear a thin cypress veil at the back of their 
 heads, excepting which, they have no mark of a rehgious 
 habit, being set out in their hair, and having no guimpe, but 
 wearing des collets month, for which I have no name in 
 English, but you may have seen them in very old pictures, 
 being in fashion both before and after ruffs. Their house is 
 a very large handsome building, though not regular, every 
 sister having liberty to build her own apartment to her taste, 
 which consists of as many rooms as she pleases : they have 
 each a separate kitchen, and keep cooks and what other ser- 
 vants they think proper, though there is a very fine public re- 
 fectory : they are permitted to dine in private whenever they 
 please. Their garden is very large, and the most adorned of 
 any in these parts. They have no grates, and make what 
 visits they will, always two together, and receive those of the 
 men as well as ladies. I was accompanied when I went with 
 all the nobility of the town, and they showed me all the house, 
 without excluding the gentlemen ; but what I think the most 
 remarkable privilege is a country-house, which belongs to 
 them, three miles from the town, where they pass every 
 vintage, and at any time any four of them may take their 
 pleasvire there, for as many days as they choose. They seem 
 to differ from the chanoinesses of Flanders only in their vow 
 of celibacy. They take pensioners, but only those of quality. 
 I saw here a niece of General Brown. Those that profess, 
 are obliged to prove a descent as noble as the knights of Malta. 
 
MR. WOKTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 247 
 
 Upon the whole, I think it the most agreeable community I 
 have seen, and their behaviour more decent than that of the 
 cloistered nuns, who I have heard say themselves, that the 
 grate permits all liberty of speech since' it leaves them no 
 other, and indeed they generally talk according to that maxim. 
 My house at Avignon joined to a monastery, which gave me 
 occasion to know a gi-eat deal of their conduct, which (though 
 the convent of the best reputation in that town, where there is 
 fourteen) was such, as I would as soon put a girl into the play- 
 house for education as send her among them. 
 
 My paper is at an end, and hardly leaves room for my com- 
 phments to Lord Bute, blessing to my grandchildren, and 
 assurance to yourself of being 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 April 28, 1754. 
 
 My dear Child, — I aiii quite sick with vexation at the 
 interruptions of our correspondence. I have sent you six 
 letters since the date of the last which you say you have 
 received; and three enclosed addressed to my sister [Lady 
 Mar], none of which, you say, are arrived. I have had but 
 two from you (including this of March 25) since October. 
 You have had no loss further than in the testimonies of my 
 real affection ; my long stories of what passes here can be 
 little entertainment to you ; but everything from England is 
 interesting to me, who lead the life, as I have already told 
 you, of Robinson Crusoe ; his goats and kids were as much 
 his companions as any of the people I see here. My time 
 is wholly dedicated to the care of a decaying body, and endea- 
 vouring, as the old song says, to grow wiser and better as my 
 strength wears away. I have wrote two long letters to your 
 father, to which I have had no answer, therefore suppose they 
 have miscarried. I know not how to remedy this misfortune, 
 and cannot help feeling it very sensibly. 
 
 I imagine the Duke of Newcastle' will soon have the 
 treasurer's staff ; the title of first commissioner is not equal to 
 
 ' Appointed first lord of the treasury in March, 1764. — D. 
 
248 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 his importance. You need not tell me how Mr. Pelham' has 
 disposed his affairs. You should be particular in your rela- 
 tions. I am as ignorant of everything that passes in London, 
 as if I inhabited the deserts of Africa. * * * * 
 
 The boxes you have been so kind to send me have been 
 some time safely arrived at Venice, but are not yet come to 
 my hands, greatly to my affliction. I wish you would send 
 the other, or the season will be too far advanced, I am very- 
 glad of Lord Mountstuart's'* recovery, and pity very much the 
 pain you have suffered during his danger. It would be ter- 
 rible to lose so agreeable a child. I dare not advise you to 
 moderate your tenderness, finding it impossible to overcome 
 my own, notwithstanding all my melancholy experience. This 
 letter is incomparably dull. I cannot resolve to own it by 
 setting my name to it. [Unsigned.] 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute. God bless you and yours. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Lovere, June 23, N.S. [1764]. 
 
 Soon after I wrote my last letter to my dear child, I was 
 seized with so violent a fever, accompanied with so many bad 
 symptoms, my life was despaired of by the physician of Got- 
 tolengo, and I prepared myself for death with as much resig- 
 nation as that circumstance admits ; some of my neighbours, 
 without my knowledge, sent express for the doctor of this 
 place, whom I have mentioned to you formerly as having un- 
 common secrets. I was surprised to see him at my bedside. 
 He declared me in great danger, but did not doubt my 
 recovery, if I was wholly under his care; and his first pre- 
 scription was transporting me hither; the other physician 
 asserted positively I should die on the road. It has always 
 been my opinion that it is a matter of the utmost indifference 
 where we expire, and I consented to be removed. My bed 
 was placed on a brancard ; my servants followed in chaises ; 
 
 ' Henry Pelham, Esq., died March 6, 1754. He had been appointed first lord 
 of the treasury in November, 1743. He succeeded Samuel Lord Sandys. — D. 
 ' First Marquis of Bute.— D. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 249 
 
 and in this equipage I set out. I bore the first day's journey of 
 fifteen miles without any visible alteration. The doctor said, as 
 I was not worse, I was certainly better ; and the next day pro- 
 ceeded twenty miles to Is^o, which is at the head of this lake. 
 I lay each night at noblemen's houses, which were empty. My 
 cook, with my physician, always preceded two or three bom's, 
 and I found my chamber, and all necessaries, ready prepared 
 with the exactest attention. I was put into a bark in my litter 
 bed, and in three hours arrived here. My spirits were not at all 
 wasted (I think rather raised) by the fatigue of my journey. 
 I drank the water next morning, and, with a few doses of my 
 physician's prescription, in three days found myself in perfect 
 health, which appeared almost a miracle to all that saw me. 
 You may imagine I am willing to submit to the orders of one 
 that I must acknowledge the instrument of saving my life, 
 though they are not entirely conformable to my will and plea- 
 sure. He has sentenced me to a long continuance here, which, 
 he says, is absolutely necessary to the confiiTnation of my 
 health, and would perSuade me that my iUness has been wholly 
 owing to my omission of drinking the waters these two years 
 past. I dare not contradict him, and must own he deserves 
 (from the various surprising cures I have seen) the name given 
 to him in this country of the miraculoiis man. Both his cha- 
 racter and practice are so singular, I cannot forbear giving 
 you some account of them. He will not permit his patients 
 to have either surgeon or apothecary : he performs all the 
 operations of the first with great dexterity; and whatever 
 compounds he gives, he makes in his own house : those are 
 very few ; the juice of herbs, and these waters, being com- 
 monly his sole prescriptions. He has very little learning, and 
 professes drawing all his knowledge from experience, which 
 he possesses, perhaps, in a greater degree than any other 
 mortal, being the seventh doctor of his family in a direct line. 
 His forefathers have all of them left journals and registers 
 solely for the use of their posterity, none of them having pub- 
 lished anything; and he has recourse to these manuscripts 
 on every difficult case, the veracity of which, at least, is un- 
 
250 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 questionable. His vivacity is prodigious, and he is inde- 
 fatigable in his industry : but what most distinguishes him is a 
 disinterestedness I never saw in any other : he is as regular 
 in his attendance on the poorest peasant, from whom he never 
 can receive one farthing, as on the richest of the nobility; 
 and, whenever he is wanted, wiU climb three or four miles in 
 the mountains, in the hottest sun, or heaviest rain, where a 
 horse cannot go, to arrive at a cottage, where, if their condi- 
 tion requires it, he does not only give them advice and medi- 
 cines gratis, but bread, wine, and whatever is needful. There 
 never passes a week without one or more of these expeditions. 
 His last visit is generally to me. I often see him as dirty and 
 tired as a foot post, having eat nothing all day but a roU or 
 two that he carries in his pocket, yet blest with such a perpe- 
 tual flow of spirits, he is always gay to a degree above cheer- 
 fulness. There is a peculiarity in his character that I hope 
 will incline you to forgive my drawing it. 
 
 I have already described to you this extraordinary spot of 
 earth, which is almost unknown to the rest of the world, and 
 indeed does not seem to be destined by nature to be inhabited 
 by human creatures, and I believe would never have been so, 
 without the cruel civil war between the Guelphs and Ghibe- 
 lines. Before that time here were only the huts of a few 
 fishermen, who came at certain seasons on account of the fine 
 fish with which this lake abounds, particularly trouts, as large 
 and red as salmon. The lake itself is different from any other 
 I ever saw or read of, being the colour of the sea, rather 
 deeper tinged with green, which convinces me that the sur- 
 rounding mountains are full of minerals, and it may be rich 
 in mines yet imdiscovered, as well as quarries of marble, from 
 whence the churches and houses are ornamented, and even 
 the streets paved, which, if polished and laid with art, would 
 look Uke the finest mosaic work, being a variety of beautiful 
 colours. I ought to retract the honourable title of street, 
 none of them being broader than an alley, and impassable for 
 any wheel carriage, except a wheelbarrow. This town (which 
 is the largest of twenty-five that are built on the banks of the 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 251 
 
 lake) ia near two miles long, and the figure of a semicircle. 
 If it was a regular range of building, it would appear magnifi- 
 cent ; but, being founded accidentally by those who sought a 
 refuge from the violences of those bloody times, it is a mixture 
 of shops and palaces, gardens and houses, which ascend a 
 mile high, in a confusion which is not disagreeable. After 
 this salutary water was found, and the purity of the air ex- 
 perienced, many people of quality chose it for their summer 
 residence, and embellished it with several fine edifices. It was 
 populous and flourishing, till that fatal plague which overran 
 all Europe in the year 1626. It made a terrible ravage in 
 this place : the poor were almost destroyed, and the rich de- 
 serted it. Since that time it has never recovered its former 
 splendour ; few of the nobility returned ; it is now only fre- 
 quented during the water-drinking season. Several of the 
 ancient palaces [are] degraded into lodging-houses, and others 
 stand empty in a ruinous condition : one of these I have 
 bought. I see you lift up your eyes in wonder at my indis- 
 cretion. I beg you to hear my reasons before you condemn 
 me. In my infirm state of health the luiavoidable noise of a 
 public lodging is very disagreeable ; and here is no private 
 one : secondly, and chiefly, the whole purchase is but one 
 hundred pounds, with a very pretty garden in terraces down 
 to the water, and a court behind the house. It is founded on 
 a rock, and the walls so thick, they will probably remain as 
 long as the earth. It is true, the apartments are in most tat- 
 tered circumstances, without doors or windows. The beauty 
 of the great saloon gained my affection : it is forty-two feet in 
 length by twenty-five, proportionably high, opening into a 
 balcony of the same length, with marble balusters : the ceiling 
 and flooring are in good repair, but I have been forced to the 
 expense of covering the wall with new stucco ; and the car- 
 penter is at this minute taking measure of the windows, in 
 order to make frames for sashes. The great stairs are in such 
 a declining way, it would be a very hazardous exploit to 
 mount them : I never intend to attempt it. The state bed- 
 chamber shall also remain for the sole use of the spiders that 
 
252 COKRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 have taken possession of it, along with the grand cabinet, and 
 some other pieces of magnificence, quite useless to me, and 
 which would cost a great deal to make habitable. I have 
 fitted up six rooms, with lodgings for five servants, which are 
 all I ever will have in this place ; and I am persuaded that I 
 could make a profit if I would part with ray purchase, having 
 been very much befriended in the sale, which was by auction, 
 the owner having died without children, and I believe he had 
 never seen this mansion in his life, it having stood empty from 
 the death of his grandfather. The governor bid for me, and 
 7iobody would bid against him. Thus I am become a citizen 
 of X/overe, to the great joy of the inhabitants, not (as they 
 would pretend) from their respect for my person, but I per- 
 ceive they fancy I shall attract all the travelling English; 
 and, to say truth, the singularity of the place is well worth 
 their curiosity ; but, as I have no correspondents, I may be 
 buried here fifty years, and nobody know anything of the 
 matter. 
 
 I received the books you were so kind to send me, three 
 days ago, but not the china, which I would not venture among 
 the precipices that lead hither. I have only had time to read 
 Lord Orrery's work,^ which has extremely entertained, and 
 not at all surprised me, having the honour of being acquainted 
 with him, and know [sic] him for one of those danglers after 
 wit, who, like those after beauty, spend their time in humbly 
 admiring, and are happy in being permitted to attend, though 
 they are laughed at, and only encouraged to gratify the insa- 
 tiate vanity of those professed wits and beauties who aim at 
 being publicly distinguished in those characters. D. [Dean] 
 S. [Swift], by his lordship's own account, was so intoxicated 
 with the love of flattery, he sought it amongst the lowest of 
 people, and the silliest of women ; and was never so well 
 pleased with any companions as those that worshipped him 
 while he insulted them. It is a wonderful condescension in 
 a man of quality to oifer his incense in such a crowd, and 
 
 ' Loril Orrery's Remarks on the Life and Writings of Swift, published in 175t. 
 — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 253 
 
 think it an honour to share a friendship with Sheridan,' &c., 
 especially being himself endowed with such universal merit as 
 he displays in these Letters, where he shows that he is a poet, 
 a patriot, a philosopher, a physician, a critic, a complete 
 scholar, and most excellent moralist ; shining in private life 
 as a submissive son, a tender father, and zealous friend. His 
 only error has been that love of learned ease which he has in- 
 dulged in a solitude, which has prevented the world from being 
 blest with such a general, minister, or admiral, being equal to 
 any of these employments, if he would have turned his talents 
 to the use of the public. Heaven be praised, he has now 
 drawn his pen in its service, and given an example to man- 
 kind that the most villanous actions, nay, the coarsest non- 
 sense, are only small blemishes in a great genius. I happen 
 to think quite contrary, weak woman as I am. I have always 
 avoided the conversation of those who endeavour to raise an 
 opinion of their understanding by ridiculing what both law 
 and decency obliges them to revere ; but, whenever I have 
 met with any of those bright spirits who would be smart on 
 sacred subjects, I have ever cut short their discourse by ask- 
 ing them if they had any lights and revelations by which they 
 would propose new articles of faith ? Nobody can deny but 
 religion is a comfort to the distressed, a cordial to the sick, and 
 sometimes a restraint on the wicked ; therefore, whoever 
 would argue or laugh it out of the world, without giving some 
 equivalent for it, ought to be treated as a common enemy: 
 but, when this language comes from a churchman, who en- 
 joys large benefices and dignities from that very Church he 
 openly despises, it is an object of horror for which I want a 
 name, and can only be excused by madness, which I think the 
 Dean was always strongly touched with. His character seems 
 to me a parallel with that of Caligula; and had he had the 
 same power, would have made the same use of it. That em- 
 peror erected a temple to himself, where he was his own high- 
 priest, preferred his horse to the highest honours in the state, 
 professed enmity to [the] human race, and at last lost his Ufe 
 
 • Dr. Thomas Sheridan, grandfather of R. Brinsley Sheridan. — D, 
 
254 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 l)y a nasty jest on one of his inferiors, which I dare swear 
 Swift would have made in his place. There can be no worse 
 picture made of the Doctor's morals than he has given us him- 
 self in the letters printed by Pope. We see him vain, trifling, 
 ungrateful to the memory of his patron, the E. [Earl] of Oxford, 
 making a servile court where he had any interested views, and 
 meanly abusive when they were disappointed, and, as he says 
 (in his own phrase), flying in the face of mankind, in company 
 with his adorer Pope. It is pleasant to consider, that, had it 
 not been for the good nature of these very mortals they con- 
 temn, these two superior beings were entitled, by their birth 
 and hereditary fortune, to be only a couple of link-boys. I 
 am of opinion their friendship would have continued, though 
 they had remained in the same kingdom : it had a very strong 
 foundation — the love of flattery on one side, and the love of 
 money on the other. Pope courted with the utmost assiduity 
 all the old men from whom he could hope a legacy, the Duke 
 of Buckingham, Lord Peterborough, Sir G. Kneller, Lord 
 Bolingbroke, Mr. Wycherley, Mr. Congreve, Lord Harcourt,' 
 &c., and I do not doubt projected to sweep the Dean's whole 
 inheritance, if he could have persuaded him to .throw up his 
 deanery, and come [to] die in his house; and his general 
 preaching against money was meant to induce people to throw 
 it away, that he might pick it up. There cannot be a stronger 
 proof of his being capable of any action for the sake of gain 
 than pubhshing his literary correspondence, which lays open 
 such a mixture of dulness and iniquity, that one would 
 imagine it visible even to his most passionate admirers, if 
 Lord O. [Orrery] did not show that smooth lines have as much 
 influence over some people as the authority of the Church in 
 these covmtries, where it cannot only veil, but sanctify any 
 absurdity or villany whatever. It is remarkable that his lord- 
 ship's family have been smatterers in wit and learning for 
 three generations : his grandfather has left monuments of his 
 
 ' Pope certainly cultivated the friendship of all these persona, but if he did so with 
 the object Lady Mary attributes to him, he was singularly unfortunate. No one 
 of them l^ft him anything, unless Peterborough's dying gift of the watch presented 
 to him by the King of Sardinia be an exception. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 225 
 
 good taste in several rhyming tragedies, and the romance of 
 Parthenissa. His father began the world by giving his name 
 to a treatise wrote by Atterbury and his club, which gained 
 him gi-eat reputation ; but (like Sir Martin Marall, who would 
 fumble with his lute when the music was over) he published 
 soon after a sad comedy of his own, and, what was worse, a 
 dismal tragedy he had found among the first Earl of Orrery's 
 papers.' People could easier forgive his being partial to his 
 own silly works, as a common frailty, than the want of judg- 
 ment in producing a piece that dishonoured his father's 
 memory. 
 
 Thus fell into dust a fame that had made a blaze by bor- 
 rowed fire. To do justice to the present lord, I do not doubt 
 this fine performance is all his own, and is a public benefit, if 
 every reader has been as well diverted with it as myself. I 
 verily believe it has contributed to the establishment of my 
 health. 
 
 I have wrote two long letters to your father, to which I 
 have had no answer. I hope he is well. The prosperity 
 of you and yours is the warmest wish of, my dear child. 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 This letter is of a horrible length ; I dare not read it over. 
 I should have told you (to justify my folly as far as I can), 
 here is no groimd-rent to be paid, taxes for church and poor, 
 or any imposition whatever, on houses. I desire in your next 
 parcel you would send me Lady Frail,^ the Adventures of Gt. 
 Edwards,' and the Life of Lord Stair, which I suppose very 
 superficial, and partly fictitious ; but, as he was my acquaint- 
 ance, I have some curiosity to see how he is represented. 
 
 1 Alteraira, a tragedy, written by the Right Honourable Roger late Earl of 
 Orrery ; and revised by the Honourable Charles Boyle [afterwards Earl of Orrery]. 
 8vo. London; J. Nutt, 1702. The prologue was written by Henry St. John, after- 
 wards T.-ord Bolingbroke. The play was performed at the theatre in Lincoln's Inn- 
 £elds, Betterton playing one of the characters. — T. 
 
 ^ Alluding not to Smollett's novel, but to a pamphlet so entitled. — T. 
 
 ' The Adventures of George Edwards, a Creole. [A novel.] — T. 
 
256 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 July 20, N.S. [1764]. 
 
 My dear Child. — I have now read over the books you 
 were so good to send, and intend to say something of them all, 
 though some are not worth speaking of. I shall begin, in 
 respect to his dignity, with Lord B. [Bolingbroke], who is a 
 glaring proof how far vanity can blind a man, and how easy 
 it is to varnish over to one's self the most criminal conduct. 
 He declares he always loved his country, though he confesses 
 he endeavoured to betray her to popery and slavery; and 
 loved his friends, though he abandoned them in distress, with 
 all the blackest circumstances of treachery. His account of 
 the Peace of Utrecht is almost equally unfair or partial : I 
 shall allow that, perhaps, the views of the Whigs, at that time, 
 were too vast, and the nation, dazzled by military glory, had 
 hopes too sanguine ; but siu-e the same terms that the French 
 consented to, at the treaty of Gertruydenberg, might have 
 been obtained ; or if the displacing of the DiJte of Marl- 
 borough raised the spirits of our enemies to a degree of 
 refusing what they had before offered, how can he excuse the 
 guilt of removing him from the head of a victorious army, and 
 exposing us to submit to any articles of peace, being unable to 
 continue the war ? I agree with him, that the idea of con- 
 quering France is a wild, extravagant notion, and would, if 
 possible, be impolitic ; but she might have been reduced to 
 such a state as would have rendered her incapable of being 
 terrible to her neighbours for some ages : nor should we have 
 been obliged, as we have done almost ever since, to bribe the 
 French ministers to let us live in quiet. So much for his po- 
 litical reasonings, 'which, I confess, are delivered in a florid, 
 easy style ; but I cannot be of Lord Orrery's opinion, that he 
 is one of the best English writers. Well-turned periods or 
 smooth lines are not the perfection either of prose or verse ; 
 they may serve to adorn, but can never stand in the place of 
 good sense. Copiousness of words, however ranged, is always 
 false eloquence, though it will ever impose on some sort of 
 understandings. How many readers and admirers has Ma- 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 257 
 
 dame de S^vign6, who only gives us, in a lively manner and 
 fashionable phrases, mean sentiments, vulgar prejudices, and 
 endless repetitions 1 Sometimes the tittle-tattle of a fine lady, 
 sometimes that of an old nurse, always tittle-tattle ; yet so well 
 gilt over by airy expressions, and a flowing style, she will 
 always please the same people to whom Lord Bolingbroke vnll 
 shine as a first-rate' author. She is so far to be excused, as 
 her letters were not intended for the press ; while he labours 
 to display to posterity all the wit and learning he is master of, 
 and sometimes spoils a good argument by a profusion of words, 
 running out into several pages a thought that might have been 
 more clearly expressed in a few lines, and, what is worse, often 
 falls into contradiction and repetitions, which are almost un- 
 avoidable to all voluminous writers, and can only be forgiven 
 to those retailers whose necessity compels them to diurnal 
 scribbling, who load their meaning with epithets, and run into 
 digressions, because (in the jockey phrase) it rids the ground, 
 that is, covers a certain quantity of paper, to answer the 
 demand of the day. A great part of Lord B.'s letters are 
 designed to show his reading, which, indeed, appears to have 
 been very extensive ; but I cannot perceive that such a minute 
 account of it can be of any use to the pupil he pretends to 
 instruct ; nor can I help thinking he is far below either Tillot- 
 son or Addison, even in style, though the latter was sometimes 
 more diffuse than his judgment approved, to furnish out the 
 length of a daily Spectator. I own I have small regard for 
 Lord B. as an author, and the highest contempt for him as 
 a man. He came into the world greatly favoured both by 
 nature and fortune, blest with a noble birth, heir to a large 
 estate, endowed with a strong constitution, and, as I have 
 heard, a beautiful figure, high spirits, a good memory, and a 
 lively apprehension, which was cultivated by a learned educa- 
 tion : all these glorious advantages being left to the direction 
 of a judgment stifled by unbounded vanity, he dishonoured 
 his birth, lost his estate, ruined his reputation, and destroyed 
 his health, by a wild pursuit of eminence even in vice and 
 trifles. 
 
 VOL. II. S 
 
258 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 I am far from maldng misfortune a matter of reproach. I 
 know there are accidental occurrences not to be foreseen or 
 avoided by human prudence, by which a character may be 
 injured, wealth dissipated, or a constitution impaired : but I 
 think I may reasonably despise the understanding of one who 
 conducts himself in such a manner as naturally produces such 
 lamentable consequences, and continues in the same destruc- 
 tive paths to the end of a long life, ostentatiously boasting of 
 morals and philosophy in print, and with equal ostentation 
 bragging of the scenes of low debauchery in public conversa- 
 tion, though deplorably weak both in mind and body, and his 
 virtue and his vigour in a state of non-existence. His con- 
 federacy with Swift and Pope puts me in mind of that of 
 Bessus and his sword-men, in the " King and no King," who 
 endeavour to support themselves by giving certificates of each 
 other's merit. Pope has triumphantly declared that they may 
 do and say whatever silly things they please, they will still be 
 the greatest geniuses nature ever exhibited. I am delighted 
 with the comparison given of their benevolence, which is 
 indeed most aptly figured by a circle in the water, which 
 widens till it comes to nothing at all ; but I am provoked at 
 Lord B.'s misrepresentation of my favourite Atticus, who 
 seems to have been the only Roman that, from good sense, 
 had a true notion of the times in which he lived, in which the 
 republic was inevitably perishing, and the two factions, who 
 pretended to support it, equally endeavouring to gratify their 
 ambition in its ruin. A wise man, in that case, would cer- 
 tainly declare for neither, and try to save himself and family 
 from the general wreck, which could not be done but by a 
 superiority of understanding acknowledged on both sides. I 
 see no glory in losing life or fortune by being the dupe of 
 either, and very much applaud that conduct which could pre- 
 serve an universal esteem amidst the fury of opposite parties. 
 We are obliged to act vigorously, where action can do any 
 good ; but in a storm, when it is impossible to work with suc- 
 cess, the best hands and ablest pilots may laudably gain the 
 shore if they can. Atticus could be a friend to men without 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 259 
 
 engaging in their passions, disapprove their maxims without 
 awaking their resentment, and be satisfied with his own 
 virtue without seeking popidar fame : he had the reward of 
 his wisdom in his tranquiUity, and will ever stand among the 
 few examples of true philosophy, either ancient or modem. 
 
 You must forgive this tedious dissertation. I hope you 
 read in the same spirit I write, and take as proofs of affection 
 whatever is sent you by 
 
 Your truly tender mother. 
 
 I must add a few words on the Essay on Exile, which I 
 read with attention, as a subject that touched me. I found 
 the most abject dejection under a pretended fortitude. That 
 the author felt it, can be no doubt to one that knows (as I do) 
 the mean submissions and solemn promises he made to obtain 
 a return, flattering himself (I suppose) he need only appear to 
 be at the head of the administration, as every ensign of sixteen 
 fancies he is in a fair way to be a general on the first sight of 
 his commission. 
 
 You will think I have been too long on the character of 
 Atticus. I own I took pleasure in explaining it. Pope thought 
 himself covertly very severe on Mr. [Addison] by giving 
 him that name ; and I feel indignation [when] he is abused, 
 both from his own merit, and ha[ving been] your father's 
 friend ; besides that it is naturally sh[ocking to see] any [one] 
 lampooned after his death by the same [man who] had [paid] 
 him the most servile court while he l[ived, and was] highly 
 obliged by him.^ 
 
 TO THE COXINTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 July 22, N.S. [1764]. 
 
 When I wrote to you last, my dear child, I told you I had 
 a great cold, which ended in a very bad fever,^ which con- 
 tinued a fortnight without intermission, and you may imagine 
 has brought me very low. I have not yet left my chamber. 
 My first care is to thank you for yours of May 8. 
 
 • The portions suggested in brackets are now torn away in the manuscript. — T. 
 ' The reader will find that Lady Mary's illness is referred to not in the last 
 letter, but in the last but one. — T. 
 
 s2 
 
2 GO CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 I have not yet lost all my interest in this country by the 
 death of the Doge, having another very considerable friend, 
 though I cannot expect to keep him long, he being near four- 
 score. I mean the Cardinal Querini,^ who is archbishop of 
 this diocese, and consequently of great power, there being not 
 one family, high or low, in this province, that has not some 
 ecclesiastic in it, and therefore all of them have some depen- 
 dence on him. He is of one of the first families of Venice, 
 vastly rich of himself, and has many great benefices beside his 
 archbishopric ; but these advantages are httle in his eyes, in 
 comparison of being the first author (as he fancies) at this day 
 in Christendom ; and indeed, if the merit of the books con- 
 sisted in bulk and number, he might very justly claim that 
 character. I believe he has published, yearly, several volumes 
 for above fifty years, beside corresponding with all the literati 
 of Europe, and, among these, several of the senior fellows at 
 Oxford, and some members of the Royal Society, that neither 
 you nor I ever heard of, who he is persuaded are the most 
 eminent men in England. He is at present employed in 
 writing his own life, of which he has already printed the first 
 tome ; and if he goes on in the same style, it will be a most 
 voluminous performance. He begins from the moment of his 
 birth, and tells us that, in that day, he made such extraordinary 
 faces, the midwife, chambermaids, and nurses all agreed, that 
 there was born a shining light in church and state. You'll 
 think me very merry with the failings of my friend. I con- 
 fess I ought to forgive a vanity to which I am obliged for 
 many good ofiices, since I do not doubt it is owing to that, that 
 he professes himself so highly attached to my service, having 
 an opinion that my suffrage is of great weight in the learned 
 world, and that I shall not fail to spread his fame, at least, all 
 over Great Britain. He sent me a present last week of a very 
 uncommon kind, even his own picture, extremely well done, 
 but so flattering, it is a young old man, with a most pompous 
 
 ' Cardinal Angelo Maria Querini. He published the works of St. Ephrem 
 Syrus, in six volumes, folio, 1732 ; and the Life of Pope Paul II., quarto, 1740. 
 See De Bure, Bibliographie Instructive, &c. — D. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 261 
 
 inscription under it. I suppose he intended it for the orna- 
 ment of my library, not knowing it is only a closet : however, 
 these distinctions he shows me, give me a figure in this town, 
 where everybody has something to hope from him ; and it 
 was certainly in a view to that they would have complimented 
 me with a statue, for I would not have you mistake so far as 
 to imagine there is any set of people more grateful or generous 
 than another. Mankind is everywhere the same : Hke cher- 
 ries or apples, they may differ in size, shape, or colour, from 
 different soils, climates, or culture, but are still essentially the 
 same species ; and the little black wood cherry is not nearer 
 akin to the [may-]dukes that are served at great tables, than 
 the wild naked negro to the fine figures adorned with coronets 
 and ribands. This observation might be carried yet further : 
 all animals are stimulated by the same passions, and act very 
 near alike, as far as we are capable of observing them. 
 
 The conclusion of your letter has touched me very much. 
 I sympathise with you, my dear child, in all the concern you 
 express for yom* family : you may remember, I represented it 
 to you before you was married ; but that is one of the senti- 
 ments it is impossible to comprehend till it is felt. A mother 
 only knows a mother's fondness. Indeed, the pain so over- 
 balances the pleasure, that I believe, if it could be thoroughly 
 understood, there would be no mothers at all. However, take 
 care that your anxiety for the future does not take from you 
 the comforts you may enjoy in the present hour : it is all that 
 is properly ours ; and yet such is the weakness of humanity, 
 we commonly lose what is, either by regretting the past, or 
 disturbing our minds with fear of what may be. You have 
 many blessings : a husband you love, and who behaves well 
 to you ; agreeable, hopeful children ; a handsome, convenient 
 house, with pleasant gardens, in a good air and fine situation ; 
 which I place among the most solid satisfactions of life. The 
 truest wisdom is that which diminishes to us what is dis- 
 pleasing, and turns our thoughts to the advantages we possess. 
 I can assure you I give no precepts I do not daily practise. 
 How often do I fancy to myself the pleasure I should take in 
 
262 CORKESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 seeing you in the midst of your little people ; and how severe 
 do I then think my destiny, that denies me that happiness ! 
 I endeavour to comfort myself by reflectiag, that we should 
 certainly have perpetual disputes (if not quarrels) concerning 
 the management of them ; the affection of a grandmother has 
 generally a tincture of dotage : you would say I spoilt them, 
 and perhaps not be much in the wrong. Speaking of them 
 calls to my remembrance the token I have so long promised 
 my goddaughter : I am really ashamed of it : I would have 
 sent it by Mr. Anderson, if he had been going immediately to 
 London ; but as he proposed a long tour, I durst not press it 
 upon him. It is not easy to find any one who will, take the 
 charge of a jewel for a long journey ; it may be, the value of 
 it in money, to choose something for herself, would be as ac- 
 ceptable : if so, I will send you a note upon Child. Ceremony 
 should be banished between us. I beg you would speak 
 freely upon that, and all other occasions, to 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OE BOTE. 
 
 Lovere, Dec. 8, N.S. [1754].' 
 
 My dear Child, — This town is at present in a general 
 stare, or, to use their own expression, sotto sopra ; and not 
 only this town, but the capital Bergamo, the whole province, 
 the neighbouring Brescian, and perhaps all the Venetian 
 dominion, occasioned by an adventure exactly resembHng, and 
 I believe copied from, Pamela. I know not under what con- 
 stellation that foolish stuff was wrote, but it has been trans- 
 lated into more languages than any modem performance 1 
 ever heard of. No proof of its influence was ever stronger 
 than this present story, which, in Richardson's hands, would 
 serve very well to furnish out seven or eight volumes. I 
 shall make it as short as I can. 
 
 ' The original is indorsed in an old handwriting, " Lovere, 1751 ;" but this year 
 was probably inferred from Lady Mary's allusion at the end of the letter to La- 
 vinia Fenton's marriage to the Duke of Bolton. Lady Mary, however, as ap- 
 pears by the next letter, was not informed of the death of the first duchess till 
 after the death of the duke in 175i. — T. 
 
ME. WOKTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 263 
 
 Here is a gentleman's family, consisting of an old bachelor 
 and his sister, who have fortune enough to live with great ele- 
 gance, though without any magnificence, possessed of the 
 esteem of all their acquaintance, he being distinguished by his 
 probity, and she by "her virtue. They are not only suffered 
 but sought by all the best company, and indeed are the most 
 conversable, reasonable people in the place. She is an excel- 
 lent housewife, and particularly remarkable for keeping her 
 pretty house as neat as any in Holland. She appears no 
 longer in- public, being past fifty, and passes her time chiefly 
 at home with her work, receiving few visitants. This Signora 
 Diana, about ten years since, saw, at a monastery, a girl of 
 eight years old, who came thither to beg alms for her mother. 
 Her beauty, though covered with rags, was very observable, 
 and gave great compassion to the charitable lady, who thought 
 it meritorious to rescue such a modest sweetness as appeared 
 in her face from the ruin to which her v^rretched circumstances 
 exposed her. She asked her some questions, to which she 
 answered with a natural civility that seemed surprising ; and 
 finding the head of her family (her brother) to be a cobbler, 
 who could hardly Hve by that trade, and her mother too old to 
 work for her maintenance, she bid the child follow her home ; 
 and sending for her parent, proposed to her to breed the Httle 
 Octavia for her servant. This was joyfully accepted, the old 
 woman dismissed with a piece of money, and the girl remained 
 with the Signora Diana, who bought her decent clothes, and 
 took pleasure in teaching her whatever she was capable of 
 learning. She learned to read, write, and cast accounts, with 
 uncommon facility ; and had such a genius for work, that she 
 excelled her mistress in embroidery, point, and every operation 
 of the needle. She grew perfectly skilled in confectionary, 
 had a good insight into cookery, and was a great proficient in 
 distillery. To these accomplishments she was so handy, well 
 bred, humble and modest, that not only her master and mis- 
 tress, but everybody that frequented the house, took notice of 
 her. She lived thus near nine years, never going out but to 
 church. However, beauty is as difficult to conceal as light ; 
 
264 COERESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 liers began to make a great noise. Signora Diana told me 
 she observed an unusual concourse of pedling women that 
 came on pretext to sell penn'orths' of lace, china, &c., and 
 several young gentlemen, very well powdered, that were per- 
 petually walking before her door, and looking up at the win- 
 dows. These prognostics alarmed her prudence, and she 
 listened very willingly to some honourable proposals that were 
 made by many honest, thriving tradesmen. She communicated 
 them to Octavia, and told her, that though she was sorry to 
 lose so good a servant, yet she thought it right to advise her 
 to choose a husband. The girl answered modestly, that it was 
 her duty to obey all her commands, but she found no inclina- 
 tion to marriage ; and if she would permit her to live single, 
 she should think it a greater obligation than any other she 
 could bestow. Signora Diana was too conscientious to force 
 her into a state from which she could not free her, and left 
 her to her own disposal. However, they parted soon after : 
 whether (as the neighbours say) Signor Aurelio Ardinghi, her 
 brother, looked with too much attention on the young woman, 
 or that she herself (as Diana says) desired to seek a place of 
 more profit, she removed to Bergamo, where she soon found 
 preferment, being strongly recommended by the Ardinghi 
 family. She was advanced to be first waiting-woman to an 
 old countess, who was so well pleased with her service, she de- 
 sired, on her death-bed. Count Jeronimo Sosi, her son, to be 
 kind to her. He found no repugnance to this act of obe- 
 dience, having distinguished the beautiful Octavia from his 
 first sight of her ; and, during the six months that she had 
 served in the house, had tried every art of a fine gentleman, 
 accustomed to victories of that sort, to vanquish the virtue of 
 this fair virgin. He has a handsome figure, and has had an 
 education uncommon in this country, having made the tour of 
 Eiirope, and brought from Paris all the improvements that are 
 to be picked up there, being celebrated for his grace in 
 dancing, and skill in fencing and riding, by which he is^ 
 
 ' The w.ord " penn ortha" was employed to mean simply " bargains." — T. 
 
MR. WOKTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHEES. 265 
 
 favourite among the ladies, and respected by the men. Thus 
 qualified for conquest, you may judge of his surprise at the 
 firm yet modest resistance of this country girl, who was neither 
 to be moved by address, nor gained by liberaUty, nor on any 
 terms would be prevailed on to stay as his housekeeper, after 
 the death of his mother. She took that post in the house of 
 an old judge, where she continued to be solicited by the 
 emissaries of the count's passion, and found a new persecutor 
 in her master, who, after three months' endeavour to corrupt 
 her, offered her marriage. She chose to return to her former 
 obscurity, and escaped from his pursuit, without asking any 
 wages, and privately returned to the Signora Diana. She 
 threw herself at her feet, and, kissing her hands, begged her, 
 with tears, to conceal her at least some time, if she would not 
 accept of her service. She protested she had never been 
 happy since she left it. While she was making these sub- 
 missions, Signor Aurelio entered. She entreated his inter- 
 cession on her knees, who was easily persuaded to consent she 
 should stay with them, though his sister blamed her highly for 
 her precipitate flight, having no reason, from the age and 
 character of her master, to fear any violence, and wondered 
 at her declining the honour he offered her. Octavia confessed 
 that perhaps she had been too rash in her proceedings, but 
 said, that he seemed to resent her refusal in such a manner as 
 frighted her ; she hoped that after a few days' search he would 
 think no more of her ; and that she scrupled entering into the 
 holy bands of matrimony, where her heart did not sincerely 
 accompany all the words of the ceremony. Signora Diana 
 had nothing to say in contradiction to this pious sentiment ; 
 and her brother applauded the honesty which coidd not be 
 perverted by any interest whatever. She remained concealed 
 in their house, where she helped in the kitchen, cleaned the 
 rooms, and redoubled her usual diligence and officiousness. 
 Her old master came to Lovere on pretence of adjusting a law- 
 suit, thi'ee days after, and made private inquiry after her ; but 
 hearing from her mother and brother (who knew nothing of 
 
266 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 her being here) that they had never heard of her, he con- 
 cluded she had taken another route, and returned to Bergamo ; 
 and she continued in this retirement near a fortnight. 
 
 Last Sunday, as soon as the day was closed, arrived at 
 Signor Aureho's door a handsome equipage in a large bark, 
 attended by four well-armed servants on horseback. An old 
 priest stepped out of it, and desiring to speak with Signora 
 Diana, informed her he came from the Count Jeronimo Sosi 
 to demand Octavia ; that the count waited for her at a village 
 four miles from hence, where he intended to marry her ; and 
 had sent him, who was engaged to perform the divine rite, 
 that Signora Diana might resign her to his care without any 
 difficulty. The young damsel was called for, who entreated 
 she might be permitted the company of another priest with 
 vs'hom she was acquainted : this was readily granted ; and she 
 sent for a young man that visits me very often, being remark- 
 able for his sobriety and learning. Meanwhile, a valet-de- 
 chambre presented her with a box, in which was a complete 
 genteel undress for a lady. Her laced linen and fine night- 
 gown were soon put on, and away they marched, leaving the 
 family in a siu-prise not to be described. 
 
 Signor Aurelio came to drink coffee with me next morning : 
 his first words were, he had brought me the history of Pamela. 
 I said, laughing, I had been tired with it long since. He ex- 
 plained himself by relating this story, mixed vsdth great resent- 
 ment for Octavia's conduct. Count Jeronimo's father had 
 been his ancient friend and patron ; and this escape from his 
 house (he said) would lay him under a suspicion of having 
 abetted the young man's folly, and perhaps expose him to the 
 anger of all his relations, for contriving an action he would 
 rather have died than suffered, if he had known how to pre- 
 vent it. I easily believed him, there appearing a latent 
 jealousy under his affliction, that showed me he envied the 
 bridegroom's happiness, at the same time he condemned his 
 extravagance. 
 
 Yesterday noon, being Saturday, Don Joseph returned, who 
 has got the name of Parson Williams by this expedition : he 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 267 
 
 relates, that when the bark which carried the coach and train 
 arrived, they found the amorous count waiting for his bride 
 on the bank of the lake : he would have proceeded imme- 
 diately to the church ; but she utterly refused it, till they had 
 each of them been at confession ; after which the happy knot 
 was tied by the parish priest. They continued their journey, 
 and came to their palace at Bergamo in a few hours, where 
 everything was prepared for their reception. They received 
 the communion next morning, and the count declares that the 
 lovely Octavia has brought him an inestimable portion, since 
 he owes to her the salvation of his soul. He has renounced 
 play, at which he had lost a great deal of time and money. 
 She has already retrenched several superfluous servants, and 
 put his family into an exact method of economy, preserving 
 aU the splendour necessary to his rank. He has sent a letter 
 in his own hand to her mother, inviting her to reside with 
 them, and subscribing himself her dutiful son : but the coun- 
 tess has sent another privately by Don Joseph, in which she 
 advises the old woman to stay at Lovere, promising to take 
 care she shall want nothing, accompanied with a token of 
 twenty sequins,' which is at least nineteen more than ever she 
 saw in her life. 
 
 I forgot to teU you that from Octavia's first serving the old 
 lady, there came frequent charities in her name to her poor 
 parent, which nobody was surprised at, the lady being cele- 
 brated for pious works, and Octavia knovwi to be a great 
 favourite with her. It is now discovered that they were all 
 sent by the generous lover, who has presented Don Joseph 
 very handsomely, but he has brought neither letter nor mes- 
 sage to the house of Ardinghi, which affords much speculation. 
 
 I am afraid you are heartily tired with this tedious tale. I 
 wiU not lengthen it with reflections. I fancy yours will be 
 [the] same vsdth mine. All these adventures proceed from 
 artifice on one side and weakness on the other. An honest, 
 tender mind is betrayed to ruin by the charms that make the 
 fortune of a designing head, which, when joined with a beau- 
 
 ' About ten guineas English. — D. 
 
268 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 tiful face, can never fail of advancement, except barred by a 
 wise mother, who locks up her daughters from view till nobody- 
 cares to look on them. My poor friend the Duchess of Bolton^ 
 was educated in solitude, with some choice books, by a saint- 
 like governess : crammed with virtue and good qualities, she 
 thought it impossible not to find gratitude, though she failed 
 to give passion ; and upon this plan threw away her estate, 
 was despised by her husband, and laughed at by the public. 
 Polly, bred in an ale-house, and produced on the stage, has 
 obtained wealth and title, and found the way to be esteemed. 
 So useful is early experience — without it half of life is dissi- 
 pated in correcting the errors that we have been taught to 
 receive as indisputable truths. Make my compliments to Lord 
 Bute. I am out of humour with Lady Mary for neglecting 
 to answer my letters. However, she shares my blessing with 
 her brothers and sisters. I have a little ring for Lady Jane, 
 but God knows when I shall have an opportunity to send it. 
 I am ever 
 
 Your truly affectionate mother. 
 It is a long time since I have heard from your father, 
 though I have wrote several times. 
 
 TO ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Lovere, Dec. 19, N,S. [1754]. 
 
 I RECEIVED yours of October 6, yesterday, which gave me 
 great pleasure. I am flattered by finding that our sentiments 
 are the same in regard to Lord Bolingbroke's writings, as you 
 will see more clearly, if you ever have the long letter I have 
 wrote to you on that subject. I believe he never read Horace, 
 or any other author, with a design of instructing himself, 
 thinking he was bom to give precepts, and not to follow them : 
 at least, if he was not mad enough to have this opinion, he en- 
 deavoured to impose it on the rest of the world. All his works, 
 being well considered, are little rnore than a panegyric on his 
 own universal genius; many of his pretensions as prepos- 
 
 • Lady Anne Vaughan, daughter and heir of John Earl of Carberry, married , 
 Charles Duke of Bolton in 1713, and died in 1751. The Duke of Bolton after- 
 wards married Lavinia Fenton, the celebrated Polly in Gay's Beggar's Opera. — W. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 269 
 
 terously inconsistent as if Sir Isaac Newton had aimed at 
 being a critic in fashions, and wrote for the information of 
 tailors and mantua-makers. I am of your opinion that he never 
 looked into half the authors he quotes, and am much mistaken 
 if he is not obliged to Mr. Bayle for the generality of his criti- 
 cisms ; for which reason he affects to despise him, that he may 
 steal from him with less suspicion. A diffusive style (though 
 often admired as florid by all half-witted readers) is commonly 
 obscure, and always trifling. Horace has told us, that where 
 words abound, sense is thinly spread ; as trees overcharged 
 with leaves bear little fruit. 
 
 You do not mention Lord Orrery, or perhaps would not 
 throw away time in perusing that extraordinary work, addressed 
 to a son, whom he educates with an intention he should be a 
 first minister, and promises to pray to God for him if ever he 
 plays the knave in that station. I perceive that he has already 
 been honoured with five editions. I wish that encouragement 
 may prevail with him to give the world more memoirs. I am 
 resolved to read them all, though they should multiply to as 
 many tomes as Erasmus. 
 
 Here are no newspapers to be had but those printed under 
 this government ; consequently I never learn the births or 
 deaths of private persons. I was ignorant of that of my poor 
 friend the Duchess of Bolton, when my daughter's last letter 
 told me the death of the duke,' and the jointure he has left 
 his second duchess. 
 
 I am very glad your health is so good. May that and every 
 other blessing be ever yours. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Jan. 1, N.S., 1755. 
 
 My DEAR Child, — I wish you many new years, accompa- 
 nied with every blessing that can render them agreeable ; and 
 that it was in my power to send you a better new year's gift 
 than a dull letter : you must, however, accept it as well meant, 
 though ill performed. I am glad you have found a house to 
 
 ' He died August 26, 1754.— D. 
 
270 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 please you. I know nothing of that part of the town you 
 mention. I believe London would appear to me as strange 
 as any place 1 have passed in my travels, and the streets as 
 much altered as the inhabitants. I did not know Lady H. 
 Wentworth was married,^ though you speak of her children : 
 you see my total ignorance : it would be amusing to me to 
 hear various things that are as indifferent to you as an old 
 almanac. I am sorry my friend Smollett loses his time in 
 translations ; he has certainly a talent for invention, though I 
 think it flags a little in his last work. Don Quixote is a diffi- 
 cult undertaking : I shall never desire to read any attempt to 
 new-dress him. Though I am a mere piddler in the Spanish 
 language, I had rather take pains to understand him in the 
 original, than sleep over a stupid translation. 
 
 I thank you for your partiaUty in my favour. It is not my 
 interest to rectify mistakes that are so obliging to me. To 
 say truth, I think myself an uncommon kind of creature, 
 being an old woman without superstition, peevishness, or cen- 
 soriousness. I am so far from thinking my youth was past in 
 an age of more virtue and sense than the present, I am of 
 opinion the world improves every day. I confess I remember 
 to have dressed for St. James's chapel with the same thoughts 
 your daughters will have at the opera; but am not of the 
 Rambler's mind, that the church is the proper place to make 
 love in; and the peepers behind a fan, who divided their 
 glances between their lovers and their prayer-book, were not 
 at all modester than those that now laugh aloud in public 
 walks. I tattle on, and forget you're in town, and con- 
 sequently I ought to shorten my letters, knowing very well 
 that the same letter that would be read thrice over in the 
 country, will be crammed into the pocket before 'tis half gone 
 through, when people are in a hurry to go to the court or play- 
 house. My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to you 
 and yours, to whom I am ever a most affectionate mother. 
 
 > Lady Henrietta Wentworth, daughter of Thomas Earl of Strafford, was married 
 to Mr. Vernon in December, 1743. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 271 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Lovere, Jan. 23, N.S. [1765]. 
 
 I AM very sorry for your past indisposition, and, to say 
 truth, not heartily glad of your present condition ; but I nei- 
 ther do nor will admit of your excuses for your silence. I 
 have already told you some ten or twelve times over, that you 
 should make your eldest daughter your secretary ; it would 
 be an ease to yourself, and highly improving to her, in every 
 regard : you may, if you please, at once obhge your mother 
 and instruct your daughter, by only talking half an hour over 
 your tea in the morning. 
 
 The Duchess of Queensberry's misfortune would move com- 
 passion in the hardest heart ;^ yet, all circumstances coolly con- 
 sidered, I think the young lady deserves most to be pitied, being 
 left in the terrible situation of a youiig and (I suppose) rich 
 widowhood, which, as I have already said of M. Cook [Lady 
 Mary Coke], is walking blindfold, upon stilts, amidst precipices, 
 though perhaps as little sensible of her danger as a child of a 
 quarter old would be in the paws of a monkey leaping on the 
 tiles of a house. I believe, like all others of your age, you 
 have long been convinced there is no real happiness to be 
 found or expected in this world. You have seen a court near 
 enough to know neither riches nor power can secure it ; and all 
 human endeavours after felicity are as childish as running 
 after sparrows to lay salt on their tails : but I ought to give 
 you another information, which can only be learned by expe- 
 rience, that liberty is an idea equally chimerical, and has no 
 real existence in this Ufe. I can truly assure you I have 
 never been so little mistress of my own time and actions, as 
 since I have lived alone. Mankind is placed in a state 
 of dependency, not only on one another (which all are 
 in some degree), but so many inevitable accidents thwart 
 our designs, and limit our best laid projects. The poor 
 
 • The calamity here alluded to was the death of the Earl of Drumlanrig, son of 
 Charles third Duke of Queensberry. He married a daughter of the Earl of Hope- 
 toun, July 10, 1754, and was killed by the accidental explosion of a pistol the 
 20th of October following.— D. 
 
272 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 efforts of our utmost prudence and political schemes, appear, 
 I fancy, in the eyes of some superior beings, like the pecking 
 of a young linnet to break a wire cage, or the climbing of a 
 squirrel in a hoop ; the moral needs no explanation : let us 
 sing as cheerfully as we can in our impenetrable confinement, 
 and crack our nuts with pleasure from the little store that is 
 allowed us. 
 
 My old friend the Cardinal [Querini]i is dead of an apo- 
 plectic fit, which I am sorry for, notwithstanding the disgust 
 that happened between us, on the ridiculous account of which 
 I gave you the history a year ago.^ His memory will, probably, 
 last as long as this province, having embellished it with so 
 many noble structures, particularly a public library well fur- 
 nished, richly adorned, and a college built for p [torn] 
 scholars, with salaries for masters, and plentifully endowed ; 
 many charitable foundations, and so large a part of the new 
 cathedral (which will be one of the finest churches in Lom- 
 bardy) has been built at his expense, he may be almost 
 called the founder of it. He has left a considerable an- 
 nuity to continue it, arid deserves an eminent place among 
 the few prelates that have devoted what they received from 
 the Church to the use of the public, which is not here (as in 
 some countries) so ungrateful to overlook benefits. Many 
 statues have been erected, and medals cast to his honour, one 
 of which has the figures of Piety, Learning, and Munificence, 
 on the reverse, in the attitude of the three Graces. His 
 funeral has been celebrated by the city with all the splendour 
 it was capable of bestowingj and waited on by all ranks of the 
 inhabitants. 
 
 You told me, some months since, that a box was made up 
 for me. I have never had the bill of lading, and know not 
 whether you have received the little bill of exchange sent by 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 ■ Died Jan., 1756.— T. 
 ^ See ante, p. 241. 
 
MK. WOETLEV MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 273 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE., 
 
 [Lovere] March 1 [1765]. 
 
 I PITY Lady M. Coke extremely. You -will be surprised 
 at this sentiment, when she is the present envy of her sex, in 
 the possession of youth, health, wealth, wit, beauty and liberty. 
 All these seeming advantages will prove snares to her. She 
 appears to me to be walking blindfold, upon stilts, amidst 
 precipices. She is at a dangerous time of life, when the pas- 
 sions are in full vigour, and, we are apt to flatter ourselves, 
 the understanding arrived at maturity. People are never so 
 near playing the fool, as when they think themselves wise : 
 they lay aside that distrust which is the surest guard against 
 indiscretion, and venture on many steps they would have 
 trembled at, at fifteen ; and, like children, are never so much 
 exposed to falling, as when they first leave off leading- 
 strings. I think nothing but a miracle, or the support of a 
 guardian angel, can protect her. It is true (except I am much 
 mistaken), nature has furnished her with one very good de- 
 fence. I took particular notice of her, both from my own 
 liking her, and her uncommon obliging behaviour to me. She 
 was then of an age not capable of much disguise, and I thought 
 she had a great turn to economy : it is an admirable shield 
 against the most fatal weaknesses. Those who have the good 
 fortune to be born with that inclination seldom ruin them- 
 selves, and are early aware of the designs laid against them. 
 Yet, with all that precaution, she will have so many plots con- 
 trived for her destruction, she will find it very difficult to 
 escape; and if she is a second time unhappily engaged, it will 
 make her much more miserable than the first ; as all misfor- 
 tunes, brought on by our own imprudence, are the most 
 wounding to a sensible heart. The most certain security 
 would be that diffidence which naturally arises from an impar- 
 tial self-examination. But this is the hardest of all tasks, re- 
 quiring great reflection, long retirement, and is strongly re- 
 pugnant to our own vanity, which very unwillingly reveals, 
 even to ourselves, our common frailty, though it is every way 
 a useful study. Mr. Locke, who has made a more exact dis- 
 
 VOL. II. T 
 
274 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 section of the human muad than any man before him, declares 
 he gained all his knowledge from the consideration of himself. 
 It is indeed necessary to judge of others. You condemn Lord 
 Cornbury without knowing what he could say in his justifica- 
 tion. I am persuaded he thought he performed an act of 
 rigid justice, in excluding the D. of Q. [Duchess of Queens- 
 berry] from an inheritance to which she had no natural, 
 though a legal, right ; especially having had a large portion 
 from her real father. I have heard him talk on that subject 
 without naming names, and call it a robbery vidthin the law. 
 He carried that notion to a great height. I agreed with him, 
 that a woman that produced a false child into a family inciarred 
 the highest guilt (being irreparable) ; but I could not be of 
 his opinion, that it was the duty of the child, in such a case, to 
 renounce the fortune the law entitled it to. You see he has 
 acted by a maxim he imagined just. Lady Essex being, 
 inside and out, resembling Lord Clarendon ; and whoever re- 
 members Lord Carleton's eyes, must confess they now shine 
 in the duchess's face. I am not bribed by Lord Cornbury's 
 behaviour to me to find excuses for him ; but I have always 
 endeavoured to look on the conduct of my acquaintance with- 
 out any regard to their way of acting towards me. I can say, 
 with truth, I have strictly adhered to this principle whenever 
 I have been injured ; but I own, to my shame be it spoken, 
 the love of flattery has sometimes prevailed on me, under the 
 mask of gratitude, to think better of people than they deserved 
 when they have professed more value for me than I was con- 
 scious of meriting. I slide insensibly into talking of myself, 
 though I always resolve against it. I will relieve you from so 
 dull a subject, by concluding my letter with my compliments 
 to Lord Bute, my blessing to my grandchildren, and the as- 
 surance of my being your ever most affectionate mother. 
 
 I have received a letter from Lady Mary, and will answer 
 it the next post. 
 
 ■ TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 ApiU 15, N.S. [1755]. 
 
 My deae Child, — I received yours of February 10th with 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 275 
 
 great pleasure, as it brought me the news of your health, and 
 that of your family, though mixed with some mortification to 
 find that some of yours have been lost, and several of mine. 
 I never had that in which you mention the death of Lord 
 Gower, and should be glad to hear in what state he has left 
 his affairs. I do not doubt, as madame had the carving of the 
 whole, she has taken care to reserve some good bits for herself. 
 I cannot guess who you mean by Lord Montf ort,i there being 
 no such title when I left England, nor any Lord Hertford,^ 
 who I hear is named ambassador to France : these are all new 
 people to me. I wish you would give me some information 
 concerning them. None can be so agreeable as the continua/- 
 tion of your father's health : you see in him the good effect of 
 a strict abstinence and regular exercise. I am much pleased 
 (but not at all surprised) at his kindness to you : I know him 
 to be more capable of a generous action than any man I ever 
 knew. I am afraid my last long letter to him has miscarried, 
 and perhaps he thinks me very negligent, or very stupid in 
 delaying to answer that which he sent me. You may assure 
 him no part of the merit of it was lost upon me. I took all 
 possible care my thanks for it should be safely delivered into 
 the postmaster's own hand. I suspect my cautions have been 
 all in vain, and also that you have not had mine in which 
 was endorsed a small bill on Mr. Child. I have never heard 
 one word of the books that you told me were packed up last 
 
 1 Henry Bromley, created Baron Montford, 1741. — D. Mr. Wortley had, 
 no doubt, sent Lady Mary particulars of the death of Lord Montford, who shot 
 himself on the 1st of January, 1755. Lady Hervey thus alludes to this occur- 
 rence in a letter dated London, Jan. 7, 1755 : " Lord Montford's strange end sur- 
 prised me a good deal, as he seemed as happy as a great taste for pleasure and an 
 
 ample fortune to gratify it could make him He had supped and played at 
 
 White's as usual the night before, but sent to a lawyer he made use of, to come 
 to him the next day at eleven o'clock, having himself business at twelve. The 
 lawyer, with Lord Montford, read over his will three times, examining very care- 
 fully every word, that there might not be a.ny flaw or room left for a dispute. He 
 then sealed up the will and the duplicate, putting the one into his drawer, and 
 desiring the lawyer to take care of the other; went immediately into his bed- 
 chamber, and before the man could take his papers, and get down stairs. Lord 
 Montford shot himself through the head." Horace Walpole also gives in his let- 
 ters an account of the same event, — T. 
 
 ^ Francis Seymour Conway, created Earl of Hertford, 1750. — D. It was deter- 
 mined to send him as an ambassador to France near the close of 1764 ; but the in- 
 tention was abandoned, owing to the quarrel with that country. — T. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 June. These things are very provoking, [but] fretting xaends 
 nothing. I will continue to write on, though the uncertainty 
 of your receiving my letters is a strong abatement of my plea- 
 sure in writing, and will be of heavy consequence to my style. 
 I feel at this minute the spirit of dulness chill my heart, and 
 I am ready to break out into alacks and alases, with many 
 murmurs against my cruel destiny, that will not even permit 
 this distant conversation between us, without such allaying cir- 
 cumstances. However, I beg you not to be discouraged. I 
 am persuaded, from the goodness of your heart, that you are 
 willing to give me happiness ; and I can have none here so 
 great as a letter from you. You can never want subjects ; 
 and I can ass\ire you that your eldest daughter caimot be 
 more delighted with a birthday suit, or your youngest with a 
 paper of sugar-plums, than I am at the sight of your hand. 
 You seem very anxious on the account of your children's 
 education. I have said all I have to say on that head ; and 
 am still of the same opinion, that learning is necessary to the 
 happiness of women, and ignorance the common foundation of 
 their errors, both in morals and conduct. I was well ac- 
 quainted with a lady (the D. [Duchess] of M. [Manchester]), 
 who, I am persuaded, owed all her misfortunes to the want of 
 instruction in her youth. You know another, who, if she had 
 had her natural good understanding cultivated by letters, 
 would never have mistaken Johnny Gay for a wit, and much 
 less have printed, that he took the liberty of calling her his 
 Liaura.i 
 
 I am pleasingly interrupted by the welcome information 
 from Lord Bute that you are safely delivered of a son.^ I am 
 never in pain for any of that sex. If they have any merit, 
 there are so many roads for them to meet good fortune, they 
 can no way fail of it but by not deserving it. We have but 
 one of establishing ours, and that surrounded with precipices, 
 and perhaps after all better missed than found. I have al- 
 ready told you I look upon my granddaughters as lay nuns. 
 
 • The Duchess of Queensberry. — D. 
 William, afterwards Lord Archbishop of Armagh, and Primate of all Ireland, 
 born March 16, 1766.— T. 
 
MR. WORTLET MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 277 
 
 Lady Mary might avoid that destiny, if religion was not a bar 
 to her being disposed of in this country. You will laugh to 
 hear it, but it is really true, I had proposed to me a young 
 man of quality, with a good estate : his parents are both dead : 
 she would find a fine palace, and neither want jewels nor 
 equipage ; and her name (with a present from me) be thought 
 sufficient fortune. 
 
 I shall write to Lord Bute this post. My blessing to you 
 and yours is sincerely sent from your most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 July 24 [1755]. 
 
 It is always a great pleasure to me, my dear child, to hear 
 of your health, and that of your family. This year has been 
 fatal to the literati of Italy. The Marquis Maffei soon fol- 
 lowed Cardinal Querini. He was in England when you 
 were married.' Perhaps you may remember his coming to 
 see your father's Greek inscription :' he was then an old 
 man, and consequently now a great age ; but preserved his 
 memory and senses in their first vigour. After having made 
 the tour of Europe in the search of antiquities, he fixed his 
 residence in his native town of Verona, where he erected him- 
 self a little empire, from the general esteem, and a conversa- 
 tion (so- they call an assembly) which he established in his 
 palace, which is one of the largest in that place, and so lucidly 
 situated, that it is between the theatre and the ancient amphi- 
 theatre. He made piazzas leading to each of them, filled with 
 shops, where were sold coffee, tea, chocolate, all sort of cool 
 [drinks 1] and sweetmeats, and in the midst, a court well kept, 
 and sanded, for the use of those young gentlemen who would 
 exercise their managed horses, or show their mistresses their 
 skill in riding. His gallery was open every evening at five 
 o'clock, where he had a fine collection of antiquities, and two 
 large cabinets of medals, intaglios, and cameos, ranged in exact 
 order. His library joined to it ; and on the other side a suite 
 of five rooms, the first of which was destined to dancing, the 
 
 ' The marriage took place in August, 1736. — T. 
 
 ' Presented by Mr. Wortley to Trinity College, Cambridge. — D. 
 
278 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 second to cards (but all games of hazard excluded), and the 
 others (where he himself presided in an easy-chair) sacred to 
 conversation, which always turned upon some point of learn- 
 ing, either historical or poetical. Controversy and politics 
 being utterly prohibited, he generally proposed the subject, 
 and took great delight in instructing the young people, who 
 were obliged to seek the medal, or explain the inscription, that 
 illustrated any fact they discoursed of. Those who chose the 
 diversion of the public walks, or theatre, went thither, but 
 never failed returning to give an account of the drama, which 
 produced a critical dissertation on that subject, the Marquis 
 having given shining proofs of his skill in that art. His 
 tragedy of Merope, which is much injured by Voltaire's trans- 
 lation, being esteemed a masterpiece ; and his comedy of the 
 Ceremonies, being so just a ridicule of those formal fopperies, 
 it has gone a great way in helping to banish them out of 
 Italy. The walkers contributed to the entertainment by an 
 account of some herb or flower, which led the way to a bota- 
 nical conversation ; or, if they were such inaccurate observers 
 as to have nothing of that kind to offer, they repeated some 
 pastoral description. One day in the week was set apart for 
 music, vocal and instrumental, but no mercenaries admitted 
 to the concert. Thus, at very little expense (his fortune not 
 permitting a large one), he had the happiness of giving his 
 countrymen a taste of polite pleasure, and showing the youth 
 how to pass their time agreeably without debauchery ;■ and (if 
 I durst say it) in so doing, has been a greater benefactor to 
 his country than the cardinal, with all his magnificent foun- 
 dations, and voluminous writings to support superstition, and 
 create disputes on things, for the most part, in their own 
 nature indifferent. The Veronese nobility, having no road 
 open to advancement, are not tormented with ambition, or its 
 child, faction ; and having learned to make the best of the 
 health and fortune allotted them, terminate all their views in 
 elegant pleasure. They say, God has reserved glory to him- 
 self, and permitted pleasure to the pursuit of man. In the 
 autumn, which is here the pleasantest season of the year, a 
 
ME. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHEES. 279 
 
 band of about thirty join their hunting equipages, and, carry- 
 ing with them a portable theatre and a set of music, make a 
 progress in the neighbouring provinces, where they hmit every 
 morning, perform an opera every Sunday, and other plays the 
 rest of the week, to the entertainment of all the neighbour- 
 hood. I have had many honourable invitations from my old 
 friend Maffei^ to make one of this society ; [but] some acci- 
 dent or other has always prevented me. You that are accus- 
 tomed to hear of deep political schemes and wise harangues, 
 will despise, perhaps, this trifling life. I look upon them in 
 another light ; as a sect of rational philosophers, — 
 
 Who sing and dance, and laugh away their time, 
 Fresh as their groves, and happy as their clime. 
 
 My paper is out. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Lovere, July [August?] 23 [1755]. 
 
 Mr DEAR Child, — I have promised you some remarks on 
 all the books I have received. I believe you would easily for- 
 give my not keeping my word ; however, I shall go on. The 
 Rambler is certainly a strong misnomer ; he always plods in 
 the beaten road of his predecessors, following the Spectator 
 (with the same pace a pack-horse would do a hunter) in the 
 style that is proper to lengthen a paper. These writers may, 
 perhaps, be of service to the public, which is saying a great 
 deal in their favour. There are numbers of both sexes who 
 never read anything but such productions, and cannot spare 
 time, from doing nothing, to go through a sixpenny pamphlet- 
 Such gentle readers may be improved by a moral hint, which, 
 though repeated over and over from generation to generation, 
 they never heard in their lives. I should be glad to know the 
 name of this laborious author. H. Fielding has given a true 
 picture of himself and his first wife, in the characters of Mr. 
 and Mrs. Booth, some compliments to his own figure excepted ; 
 and, I am persuaded, several of the incidents he mentions are 
 
 ' The Marquis Scipione Maffei, the author of the Verona Illustrata, 1733, folio, 
 and the Museum Veronense, 1749, folio, was very highly esteemed in the literary 
 world as au antiquary and virtuoso, — D. 
 
280 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 real matters of fact. I wonder he does not perceive Tom 
 Jones and Mr. Booth are sorry scoundrels. All these sort of 
 books have the same fault, which I cannot easily pardon, being 
 very mischievous. They place a merit in extravagant passions, 
 and encourage young people to hope for impossible events, to 
 draw them out of the misery they chose to plunge themselves 
 into, expecting legacies from unknown relations, and generous 
 benefactors to distressed virtue, as much out of nature as 
 fairy treasures. Fielding has really a fund of true humour, 
 and was to be pitied at his first entrance into the world, having 
 no choice, as he said himself, but to be a hackney writer, or a 
 hackney coachman. His genius deserved a better fate ; but I 
 cannot help blaming that continued indiscretion, to give it the 
 softest name, that has run through his life, and I am afraid 
 still remains. I guessed R. Random to be his, though without 
 his name. I cannot think Fadom [Ferdinand Fathom] wrote 
 by the same hand, it is every way so much below it. Sally 
 [Fielding] has mended her style in her last volame of David 
 Simple,-' which conveys a useful moral, though she does not 
 seem to have intended it : I mean, shows the ill consequences 
 of not providing against casual losses, which happen to almost 
 everybody. Mrs. Orgueil's character is well drawn, and is 
 frequently to be met with. The Art of Tormenting, the 
 Female Quixote, and Sir C. GoodvUle are all sale work. I 
 suppose they proceed from her pen, and heartily pity her, con- 
 strained by her circumstances to seek her bread by a method, I 
 do not doubt, she despises. Tell me who is that accomplished 
 countess she celebrates. I left no such person in London ; 
 nor can I imagine who is meant by the English Sappho men- 
 tioned in Betsy Thoughtless, whose adventures, and those of 
 Jenny Jessamy, gave me some amusement. I was better en- 
 tertained by the Valet, who very fairly represents how you 
 are bought and sold by your servants. I am now so accus- 
 tomed to another manner of treatment, it would be difficult 
 for me to suffer them : his adventm-es have the uncommon 
 merit of ending in a surprising manner. The general want 
 
 ' The " last volume" of David Simple was published in February, 1753.— T. 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 281, 
 
 of invention which reigns among our writers, inclines me to 
 think it is not the natural growth of our island, which has not 
 sun enough to warm the imagination. The press is loaded by 
 the servile flock of imitators. Lord B. [BoUngbroke] would 
 have quoted Horace in this place. Since I was bom, no ori- 
 ginal has appeared excepting Congreve, and Fielding, who 
 would, I believe, have approached nearer to his excellences, 
 if not forced by necessity to publish without correction, and 
 throw many productions into the world he would have thrown 
 into the fire if meat could have been got without money, or 
 money without scribbling. The greatest virtue, justice, and 
 the most distinguishing prerogative of mankind, writing, when 
 duly executed, do honour to human nature; but when de- 
 generated into trades, are the most contemptible ways of 
 getting bread. I am sorry not to see any more of Peregrine 
 Pickle's performances : I wish you would tell me his name. 
 
 I can't forbear saying something in relation to my grand- 
 daughters, who are very near my heart. If any of them are 
 fond of reading, I would not advise you to hinder them 
 (chiefly because it is impossible) seeing poetry, plays, or ro- 
 mances ; but accustom them to talk over what they read, and 
 point [out] to them, as you are very capable of doing, the ab- 
 surdity often concealed under fine expressions, where the sound 
 is apt to engage the admiration of young people. I was so 
 much charmed, at fourteen, with the dialogue of Henry and 
 Emma, I can say it by heart to this day, without reflecting on 
 the monstrous folly of the story in plain prose, where a young 
 heiress to a fond father is represented falling in love with a 
 fellow she had only seen as a huntsman, a falconer, and a 
 beggar, and who confesses, without any circumstances of 
 excuse, that he is obliged to run his country, having newly 
 committed a murder. She ought reasonably to have supposed 
 him, at best, a highwayman ; yet the virtuous virgin resolves 
 to run away with him, to Hve among the banditti, and wait 
 upon his trollop, if she had no other way of enjoying his com- 
 pany. This senseless tale is, however, so well varnished with 
 melody of words and pomp of sentiments, I am convinced it 
 
282 COKEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 has hurt more girls than ever were injured by the lewdest 
 poems extant. 
 
 I fear this counsel has been repeated to you before ; but I 
 have lost so many letters designed for you, I know not which 
 you have received. If you would have me avoid this fault, 
 you must take notice of those that arrive, which you very 
 seldom do. My dear child, God bless you and yours. I am 
 ever your most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Lovere, Sept. 22 [1755]. 
 
 My dear Child, — 1 received, two days ago, the box of 
 books you were so kind to send ; but I can scarce say whether 
 my pleasure or disappointment was greatest. I was much 
 pleased to see before me a fund of amusement, but heartily 
 vexed to find your letter consisting only of three- lines and a 
 half. Why will you not employ Lady Mary as secretary, if 
 it is troublesome to you to write 1 I have told you over and 
 over, you may at the same time oblige your mother and im- 
 prove your daughter, both which I should think very agree- 
 able to yourself. You can never want something to say. The 
 history of your mu-sery, if you had no other subject to write 
 on, would be very acceptable to me. I am such a stranger to 
 everything in England, I should be glad to hear more parti- 
 culars relating to the families I am acquainted with : — if Miss 
 Liddel' marries the Lord Euston I knew, or his nephew, who 
 has succeeded him ; if Lord Berkeley^ has left childi-en ; and 
 several trifles of that sort, that would be a satisfaction to my 
 curiosity. I am sorry for H. Fielding's death, not only as I 
 shall read no more of his writings, but I believe he lost more 
 than others, as no man enjoyed life more than he did, though 
 few had less reason to do so, the highest of his preferment 
 being raking in the lowest sinks of vice and misery. I should 
 think it a nobler and less nauseous employment to be one of 
 
 1 She married Augustus Henry Earl of Euston, Jan. 29, 1756, who succeeded 
 his grandfather as Duke of Grafton in May, 1767. — D. 
 
 2 Augustus Earl of Berkeley died Jan. 9, 1755, and left two sons and two 
 daughters. — D. 
 
MK. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 283 
 
 the staff-officers that conduct the nocturnal weddings. His 
 happy constitution (even when he had, with great pains, half 
 demolished it) made him forget everything when he was before 
 a venison pasty, or over a flask of champagne ; and I am per- 
 suaded he has known more happy moments than any prince 
 upon earth. His natural spirits gave him rapture with his 
 cook-maid, and cheerfulness when he was fluxing in a garret. 
 There was a great similitude between his character and that 
 of Sir Richard Steele. He had the advantage both in learn- 
 ing and, in my opinion, genius : they both agreed in wanting 
 money in spite of all their friends, and would have wanted it, 
 if their hereditary lands had been as extensive as their imagi- 
 nation ; yet each of them [was] so formed for happiness, it is 
 pity he was not immortal. I have read the Cry ; and if I 
 would write in the style to be admired by good Lord Orrery, I 
 would teU you " The Cry" made me ready to cry, and the 
 " Art of Tormenting" tormented me very much. I take them 
 to be Sally Fielding's, and also the Female Quixote : the plan 
 of that is pretty, but iU executed : on the contrary, the fable 
 of the Cry is the most absurd I ever saw, but the sentiments 
 generally just ; and I think, if well dressed, would make a 
 better body of ethics than Bolingbroke's. Her inventing new 
 words, that are neither more harmonious or significant than 
 those already in use, is intolerable. The most edifying part of 
 the Journey to Lisbon, is the history of the kitten : I was the 
 more touched by it, having a few days before found one, in 
 deplorable circumstances, in a neighbouring vineyard, I did 
 not only relieve her present wants with some excellent miUc, 
 but had her put into a clean basket, and brought to my ovm 
 house, where she has lived ever since very comfortably. 
 
 I desire to have Fielding's posthumous works, with his Me- 
 moirs of Jonathan Wild, and Journey to the Next World : also 
 the Memoirs of Verocand, a man of pleasure, and those of a 
 Young Lady. You will call all this trash, trumpery, &c. I 
 can assure you I was more entertained by G, Edwards than 
 H. St. John, of whom you have sent me duplicates. I see new 
 story books with the same pleastire your eldest daughter does a 
 
284 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 new dress, or the youngest a new baby. I thank God I can 
 find playthings for my age. I am not of Cowley's mind, that 
 this world is 
 
 " A dull, ill acted comedy ;" 
 
 Nor of Mrs. Philips's, that it is 
 
 " A too well acted tragedy." 
 
 I look upon it as a very pretty farce, for those that can see it 
 in that light. I confess a severe critic, that would examine by 
 ancient rules, might find many defects ; but 'tis ridiculous to 
 judge seriously of a puppet-show. Those that can laugh, and 
 be diverted with absurdities, are the wisest spectators, be it of 
 writings, actions, or people. 
 
 The Stage Coach has some grotesque figures that amuse : I 
 place it in the rank of Charlotte Summers, and perhaps it is 
 by the same author. I am pleased with Sir Herald for re- 
 cording a generous action of the D. of Montagu, which I 
 know to be true, with some variation of circumstances. You 
 should have given me a key to the Invisible Spy, pa,rticidarly 
 to the catalogue of books in it. I know not whether the con- 
 jugal happiness of the D. of B. [Duke of Bedford] is in- 
 tended as a compliment or an irony.' 
 
 This letter is as long and as dull as any of Richardson's. I 
 am ashamed of it, notwithstanding my maternal privilege of 
 being tiresome. 
 
 I return many thanks to Lord Bute for the china, which I 
 am sure I shall be very fond of, though I have not yet seen 
 it. I send you a third bill of exchange, supposing the second, 
 sent last June, has not reached you. In the next box, put up 
 the History of London, and also three of Pinchbec's watches, 
 shagrine cases, and enamelled dial-plates. When I left Eng- 
 land, they were five guineas each; I do not now know the 
 price. Whatever it is, pray take it of Mr. Samuel Child. You 
 may imagine they are for presents ; one for my doctor, who 
 is exactly Parson Adams in another profession, and the others 
 for two priests, to whom I have some obligations. 
 
 ' The question was of some interest to Lady Mary, the duchess being her 
 niece. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 285 
 
 This Richardson is a strange fellow. I heartily despise him, 
 and eagerly read him, nay, sob over his works in a most scan- 
 dalous manner. The two first tomes of Clarissa touched me, 
 as being very resembling to my maiden days ; and I find in the 
 pictures of Sir Thomas Grandison and his lady, what I have 
 heard of my mother, and seen of my father. 
 
 This letter is grown (I know not how) into an immeasurable, 
 length. I answer it to my conscience as a just judgment on 
 you for the shortness of yours. Remember my unalterable 
 maxim, where we love we have always something to say ; con- 
 sequently my pen never tires when expressing to you the 
 thoughts of 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all your dear 
 young ones, even the last comer. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Oct. 20, N.S. [1765]. 
 
 Dear Child, — I have now read over Richardson — he 
 sinks horribly in his third volume' (he does so in his story of 
 Clarissa). When he talks of Italy, it is plain he is no better 
 acquainted with it than he is. with the kingdom of Mancomugi. 
 He might have made his Sir Charles's amour with Clementina 
 begin in a convent, where the pensioners sometimes take great 
 liberties ; but that such familiarity should be permitted in her 
 father's house, is as repugnant to custom, as it would be in 
 London for a young lady of quality to dance on the ropes at 
 Bartholomew fair : neither does his hero behave to her in a 
 manner suitable to his nice notions. It was impossible a dis- 
 cerning man shovdd not see her passion early enough to check 
 it, if he had really designed it. His conduct puts me in mind 
 of some ladies I have known, who could never find out a man 
 to be in love with them, let him do or say what he would, till 
 he made a direct attempt, and then they were so surprised, I 
 warrant you ! Nor do I approve Sir Charles's offered com- 
 promise (as he calls it). There must be a great indifference 
 
 • Alluding to the novel of Sir Charles Grandison. — T. 
 
286 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 as to religion on both sides, to make so strict a union as 
 marriage tolerable between people of such distinct persuasions. 
 He seems to think women have no souls, by agreeing so easily 
 that his daughters should be educated in bigotry and idolatry. 
 ■ — You will perhaps think this last a hard word ; yet it is not 
 difficult to prove, that either the papists are guilty of idolatry, 
 or the pagans never were so. You maj' see in Lucian (in his 
 vindication of his images), that they did not take their statues 
 to be real gods, but only the representations of them. The 
 same doctrine may be found in Plutarch ; and it is all the 
 modern priests have to say in excuse for their worshipping 
 wood and stone, though they cannot deny, at the same time, 
 that the vulgar are apt to confound that distinction. 
 
 I always, if possible, avoid controversial disputes : whenever 
 I cannot do it, they are very short. I ask my adversary if he 
 believes the Scripture ? when that is answered affirmatively, 
 their church may be proved, by a child of ten years old, con- 
 tradictory to it, in their most important points. My second 
 question is, if they think St. Peter and St. Paul knew the true 
 Christian religion 1 The constant reply is, O yes. Then say 
 I, purgatory, transubstantiation, invocation of saints, adoration 
 of the Virgin, relics (of which they might have had a cart- 
 load), and observation of Lent, is no part of it, since they 
 neither taught nor practised any of these things. Vows of 
 celibacy are not more contrary to natm-e, than to the positive 
 precept of St. Paid. He mentions a very common case, in 
 which people are obliged, by conscience, to marry. No 
 mortal can promise that case shall never be theirs, which de- 
 pends on the disposition of the body as much as a fever ; and 
 'tis as reasonable to engage never to feel the one as the other. 
 He tells us, the marks of the Holy Spirit are charity, humihty, 
 tmth, and long suffering. Can anything be more uncharitable 
 than damning eternally so many millions for not believing 
 what they never heard ? or prouder than calUng their head a 
 Vice-god? Pious frauds are avowedly permitted, and per- 
 secution applauded : these maxims cannot be dictated by the 
 spirit of peace, which is so warmly preached in the Gospel. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 287 
 
 The creeds of the apostles, and council of Nice, do not speak 
 of the mass, or real presence, as articles of belief ; and Atha- 
 nasius asserts, whosoever believes according to them shall 
 be saved. Jesus Christ, in answer to the lawyer, bids him 
 love God above all things, and his neighbour as himself, as all 
 that is necessary to salvation. When he describes the last 
 judgment, he does not examine what sect, or what church, 
 men were of, but how far they had been beneficent to man- 
 kind. Faith cannot determine reward or punishment, being 
 involuntary, and only the consequence of conviction : we do 
 not beheve what we please, but what appears to us with the 
 face of truth. As I do not mistake exclamation, invective, or 
 ridicule for argument, I never recriminate on the lives of their 
 popes and cardinals, when they urge the character of Henry 
 the Eighth ; I only answer, good actions are often done by ill 
 men through interested motives, and 'tis the common method 
 of Providence to bring good out of evil : history, both sacred 
 and profane, furnishes many examples of it. When they tell 
 me I have forsook the worship of my ancestors, I say I have 
 had more ancestors heathen than Christian, and my faith is 
 certainly ancienter than theirs, since I have added nothing to the 
 practice of the primitive professors of Christianity. As to the 
 prosperity or extent of the dominion of their church, which 
 Cardinal Bellarmin counts among the proofs of its orthodoxy, 
 the Mahometans, who have larger empires, and have made a 
 quicker progress, have a better plea for the visible protection 
 of Heaven. If the fopperies of their religion were only fop- 
 peries, they ought to be complied with, wherever it is estab- 
 lished, like any ridiculous dress in fashion ; but I think them 
 impieties : their devotions are a scandal to humanity from 
 their nonsense ; the mercenary deceits and barbarous tyranny 
 of their ecclesiastics, inconsistent with moral honesty. If they 
 object the diversity of our sects as a mark of reprobation, I 
 desire them to consider, that objection has equal force against 
 Christianity in general. When they thunder with the names 
 of fathers and councils, they are surprised to find me as well 
 (often better) acquainted with them than themselves. I show 
 
288 CORRESPONDENCE- WITH 
 
 them the variety of their doctrines, their virulent contests and 
 various factions, instead of that union they boast of. I;Hav.e 
 never been attacked a second time in any of the towns where 
 1 have resided, and perhaps shall never be so again after my 
 last battle, which was with an old priest, a learned man, 
 particularly esteemed as a mathematician, and who has a head 
 and heart as warm as poor Whiston's. When I first came 
 hither, he visited me every day, and talked of me everywhere 
 with such violent praise, that, had we been young people, 
 God knows what would have been said. I have always the 
 advantage of being quite calm on a subject which they cannot 
 talk of without heat. He desired I would put on paper what 
 I had said. I immediately wrote one side of a sheet, leaving 
 the other for his answer. He carried it with him, promising 
 to bring it the next day, since which time I have never seen 
 it, though I have often demanded it, being ashamed of my 
 defective Italian. I fancy he sent it to his friend the Arch- 
 bishop of Milan. I have given over asking for it, as a despe- 
 rate debt. He still visits me, but seldom, and in a cold sort 
 of a way. When I have found disputants I less respected, I 
 have sometimes taken pleasure in raising their hopes by my 
 concessions : they are charmed when I agree with them in the 
 number of the sacraments ; but are horridly disappointed 
 when I explain myself by saying the word sacrament is not to 
 be found either in Old or New Testament ; and one must be 
 very ignorant not to know it is taken from the listing oath of 
 the Roman soldiers, and means nothing more than a solemn, 
 irrevocable engagement. Parents vow, in infant baptism, to 
 educate their children in the Christian religion, which they 
 take upon themselves by confirmation ; the Lord's Supper is 
 frequently renewing the same oath. Ordination and matri- 
 mony are solemn vows of a different kind : confession includes 
 a vow of revealing all we know, and reforming what is amiss : 
 extreme unction, the last vow, that we have lived in the faith 
 we were baptised : in this sense they are aU sacraments. As 
 to the mysteries preached since, they were all invented long 
 after, and some of them repugnant to the primitive institution. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 289 
 
 This digression has cartied tne far from my criticism. You 
 will laugh at my mating any, on a work Below examination. 
 It may be of use to my granddaughters. I am persuaded it 
 is a favourite author in all the nurseries in England, and has 
 done much harm in the boarding schools, therefore ought to 
 have his absurdities detected. You will think me angTy with 
 him for repeating a saying of mine, accompanied with a de- 
 scription of my person, which resembles me as much as one of 
 the giants in Guildhall, and plainly shows he never saw me in 
 his life. Indeed, I think, after being so many years dead and 
 buried, I might be suffered to enjoy the right of the departed, 
 and rest in peace. I cannot guess how I can possibly have 
 incurred his indignation, except he takes for truth the literary 
 correspondence between me and the M'" Argens, whom 
 I never saw, and who, with many high compliments, has 
 attributed to me sentiments that never came into my head, 
 and among them a criticism on Pamela, who is, however, 
 more favourably treated than she deserves. The book of 
 letters I mention never came to my hands till some time after 
 , it was printed, accidentally at Thoulouse.' I have need of all 
 my philosophy on these occasions ; , though, they happen so 
 often, I ought to be accustomed to them. When I print, I 
 submit to be answered, and criticised ; but as I never did, 'tis 
 hard to be abused for other people's follies. A light thing 
 said in gay company, should not be called upon for a serious 
 defence, especially when it injures nobody. It is certain there 
 are as many marriages as ever. Richardson is so eager for 
 the multiplication of them, I suppose he is some parish cui'ate, 
 whose chief profit depends on weddings and christenings. 
 He is not a man-midvnf e ; for he would be better skilled in 
 physic than to think fits and madness any ornament to the 
 characters of his heroines : though his Sir Charles had no 
 thoughts of marrying Clementina till she had lost her wits, 
 and the divine Clarissa never acted prudently till she was in 
 the same condition, and then very wisely desired to be earned 
 
 ^ The " M^' Argens" meant probably the Marquis d'Argens ; but I have not been 
 able to find any trace of the spurious volume of letters referred to. — T. 
 
 VOL. II. U 
 
290 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 to Bedlam, which is really all that is to be done in that case. 
 Madness is as much a corporal distemper as the gout or asthma, 
 never occasioned by affliction, or to be cured by the enjoy- 
 ment of their extravagant wishes. Passion may indeed bring 
 on a fit, but the disease is lodged in the blood, and it is not 
 more ridiculous to attempt to relieve the gout by an em- 
 broidered slipper, than to restore reason by the gratification of 
 wild desires. 
 
 Richardson is as ignorant in morality as he is in anatomy, 
 when he declares abusing an obliging husband, or an indul- 
 gent parent, to be an innocent recreation. His Anna How 
 and Charlotte Grandison are recommended as patterns of 
 charming pleasantry, and applauded by his saint-like dames, 
 who mistake pert folly for wit and htunour, and impudence 
 and ill nature for spirit and fire. Charlotte behaves like a 
 humorsome child, and should have been used like one, and 
 * * * well whipped in the presence of her friendly confidante 
 Harriet. Lord Halifax very justly tells his daughter, that ahus- 
 band's kindness is to be kindly received by a wife, even when he 
 is drunk, and though it is wrapped up in never so much imper- 
 tinence. Charlotte acts with an ingratitude that I think too 
 black for human nature, with such coarse jokes and low ex- 
 pressions as are only to be heard among the lowest class of 
 peopile. "Women of that rank often plead a right to beat their 
 husbands, when they don't cuckold them ; and I believe this 
 author was never admitted into higher company, and should 
 confine his pen to the amours of housemaids, and the conver- 
 sation at the steward's table, where I imagine he has sometimes 
 intruded, though oftener in the servants' hall : yet, if the title 
 be not a puff, this work has passed three editions. I do not 
 forgive him his disrespect of old china, which is below nobody's 
 taste, since it has been the D. of Argyll's, whose understand- 
 ing has never been doubted either by his friends or enemies. 
 
 Richardson never had probably money enough to purchase 
 any, or even a ticket for a masquerade, which gives him such 
 an aversion to them ; though his intended satire against them 
 is very absurd on the account of his Harriet, since she might 
 
ME. WORTLET MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 291 
 
 have been carried off in the same manner if she had been going 
 from supper with her grandmamma. Her whole behaviour, 
 which he designs to be exemplary, is equally blamable and 
 ridiculous. She follows the maxim of Clarissa, of declaring 
 all she thinks to all the people she sees, without reflecting that 
 in this mortal state of imperfection, fig-leaves are as necessary 
 for our minds as our bodies, and 'tis as indecent to show all 
 we think, as all we have. He has no idea of the manners of 
 high life : his old Lord M. talks in the style of a country 
 justice, and his virtuoiis yoraig ladies romp like the wenches 
 round a maypole. Such liberties as pass between Mr. Love- 
 lace and his cousins, are not to be excused by the relation. I 
 should have been much astonished if Lord Denbigh' should 
 have offered to kiss me ; and I dare swear Lord Trentham^ 
 never attempted such an impertinence to you. 
 
 With all my contempt I will take notice of one good thing . 
 I mean his project of an English monastery. It was a 
 favourite scheme of mine when I was fifteen ; and had I then 
 been mistress of an independent fortune, would certainly have 
 executed it, and elected myself lady abbess. There would you 
 and your ten children have been lost for ever. Yet such was 
 the disposition of my early youth : so much was I unlike those 
 girls that declare, if they had been born of the male kind they 
 should have been great rakes, which is owning they have 
 strong inclinations to and drinking, and want only op- 
 portunity and impunity to exert them vigorously. 
 
 This tedious miscellany of a letter is promised to be 
 delivered into your own hand ; nay, further, that I shall have 
 an account how you look, how you are dressed, and in what 
 manner your room is furnished. Nothing relating to you is 
 trivial to me ; and if the performance answers the engage- 
 ment, it will be a vast pleasure to your most affectionate 
 mother. 
 
 1 Lady Mary's cousin. — T. 
 
 ' Son of Lady Mary's sister, Lady Gower, and, tlierefore, a cousin of Ladj' 
 Bute.— T. 
 
 V 2 
 
292 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Nov. 2 [1755] 
 
 My dear Child, — I am always pleased when I hear you 
 have been with the Duke and Duchess of Portland, being per- 
 suaded they are both worthy and sincere friends of yours. I 
 had wrote so many letters to dear Lady Oxford without 
 receiving any answer, I was in great pain on her account. I 
 will write agaiti, though I lose so much of my writing : I am 
 afraid it will only be more time and paper thrown away. I 
 pity poor Lady Dalkeith,' who, perhaps, thinks herself at pre- 
 sent an object of envy : she will soon be undeceived : no nch 
 widow can marry on prudential motives ; and where passion 
 is only on one side, every marriage must be miserable. If she 
 thought justly, she would know no man ever was in love with 
 a woman of forty, since the Deluge : a boy may be so ; but 
 that blaze of straw only lasts till he is old enough to distinguish 
 between youth and age, which generally happens about seven- 
 teen : till that time the whole sex appears angelic to a warm 
 constitution ; but as that is not Mr. Townshend's case, all she 
 can hope is a cold complaisance, founded on gratitude, which 
 is the most uncertain of all foundations for a lasting union. 
 I know not how it is, whether obligers are apt to exact too 
 large returns, or whether human pride naturally hates to re- 
 member obligations, but I have seldom seen friendships con- 
 tinue long, where there has been great benefits conferred ; and 
 I should think it the severest suffering to know I was a burden 
 on the good nature of a man I loved, even if I met a mind so 
 generous to dissemble a disgust which he could not help feel- 
 ing. Lady Dalkeith had fond parents, and, as I have heard, 
 an obliging husband. Her sorrowful hours are now coming 
 on ; they will be new to her, and 'tis a cruel addition to reflect 
 (as she must do) that they have been her own purchasing. I 
 wish my favourite Lady Mary [Coke] may make use of her 
 
 ^ Lady Dalkeith, eldest daughter of John Duke of Argyll, widow of Francis 
 Earl of Dalkeith, and mother by him of Henry Duke of Buccleuch ; married, se- 
 condly, the famous Charles Townshend. She was created Baroness Greenwich, with 
 remainder to Charles and William Townshend, their sons ; but both died unmarried 
 in her lifetime, and the title became extinct. — W. 
 
MR. WOKTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHEKS. 293 
 
 bitter experience to escape the snares laid for ter : they are so 
 various and so numerous, if she can avoid them, I shall think 
 she has some supernatural assistance, and her force more won- 
 derful than any of Don Quixote's heroes, though they van- 
 quished whole armies by the strength of a single lance. 
 
 I have sent Lady J. Stuart^ a little ring : if it comes 
 safe, I will find something for Lady Anne j^ I expect a letter 
 of thanks. I think I have ill luck if none of my many grand- 
 daughters have a turn for writing : she that has, wiU be dis- 
 tinguished by me. I have sent you three bills of exchange : 
 it does not appear you have received one ; what method to 
 take I cannot imagine : I must depend on my new friend, who 
 is a merchant of the ValteHne. If the war breaks out, diffi- 
 culties wiU increase ; though our correspondence can hardly 
 be more interrupted than it is already. I must endure it as 
 set down by destiny in the long list of mortifications allotted 
 to, dear child. 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 March 22 [1756]. 
 
 I HAVE received but this morning the first box of china 
 Lord Bute has been so obliging to send me. I am quite 
 charmed with it, but wish you had sent in it the note of the 
 contents ; it has been so long deposited, that it is not impos- 
 sible some diminution may have happened. Everything that 
 comes from England is precious to me, to the very hay that is 
 employed in packing. I should be glad to know anything 
 that coxdd be an agreeable return from hence. There are 
 many things I could send, but they are either contraband, or 
 the custom would cost more than they are worth. I look out 
 for a picture ; the few that are in this part of Italy are those 
 that remain in families, where they are entailed, and I might 
 as well pretend to send you a palace. I am extremely pleased 
 
 ' Lady Jane Stuart, afterwards married to Sir George Macartney. — W. 
 2 Lady Anne Stuart, afterwards married to Lord Percy. — W. 
 
294 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 with the account you give of your father's health. I have 
 wrote to desire his consent in the disposal of poor Lady Ox- 
 ford's legacy :' I do not doubt obtaining it. It has been both 
 my interest and my duty to study his character, and I can say, 
 with truth, I never knew any man so capable of a generous action. 
 A late adventure here makes a great noise from the rank of 
 the people concerned: the Marchioness Lyscinnia Benti- 
 voglio, who was heiress of one branch of the Martinenghi, 
 and brought forty thousand gold sequins to her husband, and 
 the expectation of her father's estate, three thousand poimds 
 per annum, the most magnificent palace at Brescia (finer than 
 any in London), another in the country, and many other ad- 
 vantages of woods, plate, jewels, &c. The Cardinal Benti- 
 voglio, his uncle, thought he coiild not choose better, though 
 his nephew might certainly have chose among all the Italian 
 ladies, being descended from the sovereigns of Bologna, 
 actually a grandee of Spain, a noble Venetian, and in posses- 
 sion of twenty-five thousand pounds sterling per annum, with 
 immense wealth in palaces, furniture, and absolute dominion 
 in some of his lands. The girl was pretty, and the match was 
 with the satisfaction of both families ; but she brought with 
 her such a diabolical temper, and such Luciferan pride, that 
 neither husband, relations, or servants, had ever a moment's 
 peace with her. After about eight years' warfare, she eloped 
 one fair morning and took refuge in Venice, leaving her two 
 daughters, the eldest scarce six years old, to the care of the 
 exasperated marquis. Her father was so angry at her extra- 
 vagant conduct, he would not, for some time, receive her into 
 his house ; but, after some months, and much solicitation, 
 parental fondness prevailed, and she remained with him ever 
 since, notwithstanding all the efforts of her husband, who 
 tried kindness, submission, and threats, to no purpose. The 
 cardinal came twice to Brescia, her own father joined his en- 
 treaties, nay, Ms Holiness wrote a letter vrith his own hand, 
 and made use of the Church authority, but he found it harder 
 to reduce one woman than ten heretics. She was inflexible, 
 
 ' The Countess of Oxford died December 8, 1755.— T. 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 295 
 
 and lived ten years in this state of reprobation. Her father 
 died last winter, and left her his whole estate for her life, and 
 afterwards to her children. Her eldest was now marriageable, 
 and disposed of to the nephew of Cardinal Valentino Gon- 
 zagua, first minister at Rome. She would neither appear at 
 the wedding, nor take the least notice of a dutiful letter sent 
 by the bride. The old cardinal (who was passionately fond of 
 his illustrious name) was so much touched with the apparent 
 extinction of it, that it was thought to have hastened his 
 death. She continued in the enjoyment of her ill humour, 
 Hving in great splendour, though almost sohtary, having, by 
 some impertinence or other, disgusted all her acquaintance, 
 till about a month ago, when her woman brought her a basin 
 of broth, which she usually drank in her bed. She took a few 
 spoonfuls of it, and then cried out it was so bad it was impossible 
 to endure it. Her chambermaids were so used to hear her ex- 
 clamations they had not the worse opinion of it, and eat it up 
 very comfortably ; they were both seized with the same pangs, 
 and died the next day. She sent for physicians, who judged 
 her poisoned ; but, as she had taken a small quantity, by the 
 help of antidotes she recovered, yet is still in a languishing 
 condition. Her cook was examined, and racked, always pro- 
 testing entire innocence, and swearing he had made the soup 
 in the same manner he was accustomed. Yovi may imagine 
 the noise of this affair. She loudly accused her husband, it 
 being the interest of no other person to wish her out of the 
 world. He resides at Ferrara (about which the greatest part 
 of his lands he), and was soon informed of this accident. He 
 sent doctors to her, whom she would not see, sent vast alms to 
 all the convents to pray for her health, and ordered a number 
 of masses to be said in every church of Brescia and Ferrara. 
 He sent letters to the Senate at Venice, and published mani- 
 festoes in all the capital cities, in which he professes his affec- 
 tion to her, and abhoiTence of any attempt against her, and 
 has a cloud of witnesses that he never gave her the least 
 reason of complaint, and even since her leaving him has 
 always spoke of her with kindness, and courted her return. 
 
296 COEKESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 He is said to be remarkably sweet tempered, and has the best 
 character of any man of quahty in this country. If the death 
 of her women did not seem to confirm it, her accusation would 
 gain credit with nobody. She is certainly very sincere in it 
 herself, being so persuaded he has resolved her death, that she 
 dare not take the air, apprehending to be assassinated, and has 
 imprisoned herself in her chamber, where she will neither eat 
 nor drink anything that she does not see tasted by all her ser- 
 vants. The physicians now say that perhaps the poison might 
 fall into the broth accidentally ; I confess I do not perceive 
 the possibility of it. As to the cook suffering the rack, that is 
 a mere jest where people have money enough to bribe the exe- 
 cutioner. I decide nothing ; but such is the present destiny 
 of a lady, who would have been one of Eichardson's heroines, 
 having never been suspected of the least gallantry ; hating, 
 and being hated universally ; of a most noble spirit, it being 
 proverbial, " As proud as the Marchioness Lyscinnia." 
 
 I am afraid I have tired you with my long story : I thought 
 it singular enough to amuse you. I believe your censure will 
 be different from that of the ladies here, who all range them- 
 selves in the party of the Marquis Guido. They say he is a 
 handsome man, little past forty, and would easily find a 
 second wife, notwithstanding the suspicion raised on this occa- 
 sion. Many customs, and some laws, are as extraordinary 
 here as the situation of the capital. 
 
 I would write to Lord Bute to thank him, if I did not think 
 it would be giving him trouble. I have not less gratitude : I 
 desire you would assure him of it, and that I am to you both 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My blessing to your little ones. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 AprU 1 [1766]. 
 
 My dear Child, — I have this minute received yours of 
 Feb. 1. I had one before (which I have answered), in which 
 you mention some changes amongst your ministerial subal- 
 terns. I see the motions of the puppets, but not the master 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHEES. 297 
 
 that directs them ; nor can guess at him. By the help of 
 some miserable newspapers, with my own rejflections, I can 
 form such a dim telescope as serves astronomers to survey the 
 moon. I can discern spots and inequalities, but your beauties 
 (if you have any) are invisible to me : your provinces of poli- 
 tics, gallantry, and literature, all terra incognita. The mer- 
 chant who undertook to deliver my ring to Lady Jane, assures 
 me it is delivered, though I have no advice of it either from 
 her or you. Here are two new fortunes far superior to Miss 
 Crawley's. They are become so by an accident which would 
 be very extraordinary in London. Their father was a Greek, 
 and had been several years chief farmer of the customs at 
 Venice. About ten days ago, a creditor, who had a demand 
 of five hundred crowns, was very importunate with him. He 
 answered he was not satisfied it was due to him, and would 
 examine his accounts. After much pressing without being 
 able to obtain any other reply, the fellow drew his stiletto, and 
 in one stroke stabbed him to the heart. The noise of his fall 
 brought in his servants ; the resolute assassin drew a pistol from 
 his pocket and shot himself through the head. The merchant 
 has left no vdll, and is said to have been worth four millions 
 of sequins, all which will be divided between two daughters. 
 If it be only half as much, they are (I believe) the 
 greatest heiresses in Europe. It is certain he has died im- 
 mensely rich. The eldest lady is but eighteen ; and both of 
 them are reputed to be very beautiful. I hear they declare 
 they will choose husbands of their ovm country and religion, 
 and refuse any other prospects. If they keep their resolution 
 I shall admire them much. Since they are destined to be a 
 prey, 'tis a sort of patriotism to enrich their own country with 
 their spoils. You put me out of patience when you complain 
 you want subjects to entertain me. You need not go out of 
 your walls for that purpose. You have within them ten 
 strangers to me, whose characters interest me extremely. I 
 should be glad to know something of them inside and out. 
 What provision of wit and beauty has Heaven allotted them ? 
 I. shall be sorry if all the talents have fallen into the male part 
 
298 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 of your family. Do not forget, amongst the books, Fielding's 
 Posthumous Works, his Journey to the next World, and Jon. 
 Wild's Memoirs ; also those of a Young Lady, and the His- 
 tory of London. I have said this already, but am afraid the 
 letter is lost among many others. 
 
 I congratulate Mrs. Dunch on her good fortune ; the best 
 proof of the force of industry, without any other qualification. 
 She has brought more projects to bear than anybody I ever 
 knew ; many which I am sure I should have failed in. Tell 
 me if her pension is continued, which was one of her views 
 when I left England. 
 
 This is a strange miscellaneous letter; consider my age, 
 and forgive the weaknesses of your most affectionate mother. 
 
 Compliments to Lord Bute, and blessings to the rest of your 
 dear ones. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 May 19 [1756]. 
 
 My dear Child, — I am sorry to begin this letter with a 
 sort of complaint, though I am persuaded Mr. Prescot is more 
 to blame than you. However, I am really concerned that he 
 imagines he has reason to be offended. I never saw him, 
 but I know these sort of people are apt to be very punctilious ; 
 and he is so much displeased (as he says) at the reception you 
 gave him, he desires to decline the correspondence, which I 
 hoped would have been more safe and expeditious than any 
 other I have hitherto hit upon. I wish you would inquire 
 whether the Duke and Duchess of Portland have received my 
 letters, which I sent at the same time with yours, but have had 
 no return. 
 
 I congratulate my granddaughters on being born in an age 
 so much enlightened. Sentiments are certainly extreme silly, 
 and only qualify young people to be the bubbles of all their 
 acquaintance. I do not doubt the frequency of assemblies has 
 introduced a more enlarged way of thinking ; it is a kind of 
 public education, which I have alwavs thought as necessary 
 for girls as for boys. A woman married at five-and-twenty, 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 299 
 
 from under the eye of a strict parent, is commonly as ignorant 
 as she was at five ; and no more capable of avoiding the 
 snares, and struggling with the difficulties, she will infalUbly 
 meet with in the commerce of the world. The knowledge of 
 manldnd (the most useful of all knowledge) can only be ac- 
 quired by conversing with them. Books are so far from 
 giving that instruction, they fill the head with a set of wrong 
 notions, from whence spring the tribes of Clarissas, Harriets, 
 »S;c. Yet such was the method of education when I was in 
 England, which I had it not in my power to correct ; the 
 young will always adopt the opinions of all their companions, 
 rather than the advice of theu- mothers. 
 
 There is nothing talked of here but earthquakes, the greatest 
 part of which I believe to be wholly imaginary. But the 
 panic is so spread, that if a rat runs over the ceiling it is sup- 
 posed a shock, and here are daily processions, pilgrimages, 
 &c., to deprecate divine vengeance. I am tempted to laugh, 
 but restrained by prudential considerations. Here is a second 
 bill for 501. on Child. I have already told you fifteen is to 
 pay for the watches, thirty to buy a watch as my token to 
 Lady Anne, and the odd five to pay for such books as you 
 may occasionally send.' 
 
 I am very well pleased with Lady Jane's letter, and wish it 
 was longer. My compliments and thanks to Lord Bute ; I 
 am afraid his picture will be long in coming, if I can get it 
 at all. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 May 30 [175C]. 
 
 My dear Child, — I sent you a long letter very lately, 
 and enclosed one to Lady Jane, and also a second bill for fifty 
 pounds, which I hope you have received, though I fear I can- 
 not prevail on Mr. Prescot to take care of my letters ; if he 
 should do it, I beg you' would be very obliging to him ; re- 
 member, civility costs nothing and buys everytliing; your 
 daughters should engrave that maxim in their hearts. 
 
 ' A portion of the manuscript is here wanting. — T. 
 
300 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 I am sorry Sir William Lowtlier' died unmarried ; lie ought 
 to have left some of his breed, which are almost extinct : he 
 died unluckily for his acquaintance, though I think fortu- 
 nately for himself, being yet ignorant of the ingratitude and 
 vileness of mankind. He knew not what it was to lament 
 misplaced obligations, and thought himself blessed in many 
 friends, whom a short time would have shown to be worthless, 
 mercenary, designing scoundrels. The most tender disposi- 
 tion grows callous by miserable experience ; I look upon it as 
 the reason why so many old people leave immense wealth, in 
 a lump, to heirs they neither love nor esteem ; and others, like 
 Lord Sundon, leave it, at random, to they know not who. 
 He was not a covetous man, but had seen so little merit, and 
 was so well acquainted with the vices of mankind, I be- 
 lieve he thought there was none among [them] deserved any 
 particular distinction. I have passed a long Hfe, and may say, 
 with truth, have endeavoured to purchase friends ; accident 
 has put it in my power to confer great benefits, yet I never 
 met with any return, nor indeed any true affection, but from 
 dear Lady Oxford, who owed me nothing. Did not these 
 considerations restrain natural generosity, I am of opinion we 
 should see many Sir Wilham Lowthers ; neither is it saying 
 much in favour of the human heart : it is certain the highest 
 gratification of vanity is found ia bestowing ; but, when we 
 plainly foresee being exposed by it to insults, nay, perhaps, 
 abuses, which are often hberally dispersed by those who wish 
 to hide they are obliged, we abandon the pleasure rather than 
 suffer the consequence. The first shocks received from this 
 conduct of protesting friends, are felt very severely. I now 
 expect them, and they affect me with no more surprise than 
 rain after sunshine. The little good I do is scattered with a 
 sparing hand, against my inchnation ; but I now know the 
 necessity of managing^ hopes, as the only Hnks that bind at- 
 
 * Sir "William Lowther, Bart., Knight of the Shire for Cumberland, died March 
 15, 1756. Mr. Dallaway informs us that he " bequeathed 100,000Z. in legacies to 
 his several friends "with whom he wa8 chiefly associated." — T. 
 
 ^ Lady Mary here emplovs the word in the sense of the French verb manager. 
 — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 801 
 
 tachment, or even secure us from injuries. Was it possible 
 for me to elevate anybody from the station in which they are 
 born, I now would not do it : perhaps it is a rebellion against 
 that Providence that has placed them; all we ought to do 
 is to endeavour to make them easy in the rank assigned 
 them. 
 
 I hope you will not forget to send me the bill of lading, 
 without which I may chance to lose the box, which is very 
 precious to, my dear child, 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OE BUTE. 
 
 Padua, Nov. 23 [1756]. 
 
 My dear Child, — I heartily wish you joy of your pre- 
 sent situation. Lord Bute has attained it by a very uncom- 
 mon road ; I mean, an acknowledged honour and probity.' I 
 have but one short instruction (pardon the word) to give on 
 his account ; that he will never forget the real interest of 
 prince and people cannot be divided, and are almost as closely 
 united as that of soul and body. I could preach long on this 
 subject, but 1 ought to consider your time is now fully taken 
 up, and you can have no leisure for reading my tedious letters. 
 I shall henceforward relinquish the motherly prerogative I 
 have hitherto indulged, of tiring your patience with long dis- 
 courses. I went to Venice a few days ago, and in the house 
 of General Graham (whose obliging friendship I shall ever 
 gratefully own) I saw Mr. Cunningham and his lady. They 
 appeared to me to have great merit and politeness ; they 
 offered in a very friendly manner to carry my present to you ; 
 
 * TMs alludes to the fact of Lord Bute's having been appointed groom of the 
 stole to the young Prince of Wales in October, 175fi. Lord Whamdiffe remarks, 
 that he " continued in that ofl&ce with the new king till he was appointed secre- 
 tary of state, on the resignation of Lord Holdernesse, on the 25th of March, 1761. 
 On the resignation of the Duke of Newcastle, Lord Bute became, on the 26th of 
 May, 1762, first lord of the Treasury, which office he resigned on the 8th of April, 
 1763, and never afterwards took an active part in public life." — T. 
 
302 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 but, designing to proceed on their journey in these perilous 
 times, I thought it better to delay it. I hope to send it, early 
 in the spring, by the hand of Lord Archer's son, who is now 
 at Rome. It is possible a peace may be treating by that 
 time. God bless you and yours ; which is the constant prayer 
 of, dear child. 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 I have ■(vrote you several letters since my arrival here, 
 which I hope you have received, though you do not mention 
 them. My compliments to Lord Bute. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Padua, Dec. 28 [1756]. 
 
 Mt dear Child, — I received yom-s of November 29th, 
 with great pleasure, some days before I had the box of books, 
 and am highly delighted with the snuff-box : that manufac- 
 ture is at present as much in fashion at Venice as at London. 
 In general, all the shops are full of English merchandise, and 
 they boast [of] everything as coming from London, in the 
 same style as they used to do from Paris. I was showed (of 
 their own invention) a set of furniture, in a taste entu-ely new : 
 it consists of eight large armed-chairs, the same number of 
 sconces, a table, and prodigious looking-glass, all of glass. It 
 is impossible to imagine their beauty ; they deserve being 
 placed in a prince's dressing-room, or grand cabinet ; the price 
 demanded is 400^. They would be a very proper decoration 
 for the apartment of a prince so young and beautiful as ours. 
 
 The present ministry promises better counsels than have 
 been followed in my time. I am extremely glad to hear the 
 continuation of your father's health, and that you follow his 
 advice. I am really persuaded (without any dash of partiality) 
 no man understands the interest of England better, or has it 
 more at heart. I am obliged to him for whatever he does for 
 you. I will not indulge myself in troubling you with long 
 letters or commissions, when you are charged with so much 
 business at home and abroad ; I shall only repeat the Turkish 
 maxim, which I think includes all that is necessary in a court- 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 303 
 
 life : " Caress the favourites, avoid the unfortunate, and trust 
 nobody." You may think the second rule ill natured : melan- 
 choly experience has convinced me of the ill consequence of 
 mistaking distress for merit ; there is no mistake more pro- 
 ductive of evil. I could add many arguments to enforce this 
 truth, but will not tire your patience. 
 
 I am exceedingly obliged to General Graham for his civi- 
 lities ; he tells me he has wrote to you the account of poor 
 Mr. Cunningham's sad story ;^ I wish it do not come too late : 
 the newspaper says the mean capitulator is rewarded ; I fear 
 the generous defender will be neglected.^ 
 
 I intend to correspond with Lady Jane. I confess I was 
 much pleased with her little letter ; and, supposing Lady Mary 
 is commenced fine lady, she may have no leisure to read or 
 answer an old grandmother's letters. I presume Lady Jane 
 is to play least in sight till her sister is disposed of ; if she 
 loves writing, it may be an employment not disagreeable to 
 herself, and will be extremely grateful to me, who am ever, 
 my dear child. 
 
 Your affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 
 FROM MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Jan. 4 [1757]. 
 
 Yours of the 8th Dec. came hither on the 28th, which 
 is the time in which letters usually pass between London and 
 
 ' This relates to the affair of Minorca, which led to the execution of Admiral 
 Byng. Lord Stanhope thus alludes to Cunningham's condnct : " Captain Cunning- 
 ham had been engineer in second in Minorca, but being promoted to a majority 
 in England, was on his way homewards, and was only delayed at Nice by the de- 
 livery of his wife and the sickness of his children. It was at Nice that he heard 
 of the French designs against his former comrades at St. Philip's. He immediately 
 exclaimed, 'They will want engineers!' and determined at all risks to rejoin 
 them, first expending what money he had in purchasing timber for the platforms 
 and other things needful for defence, and in hiring a ship for the voyage ; nor did 
 he hesitate, when his country's service was at stake, to leave his wife and children 
 sick in a land of strangers." — (^History of England, third edition, iv. 65.) In 
 repelling the assault, Cunningham was maimed in the right arm by the thrust of a 
 bayonet. — T. 
 
 ' Abandoned by Byng and the fleet, the garrison, after a gallant struggle, sur- 
 rendered in June, 1756. General Blakeney, whom Lad}' Marj- calls the " mean 
 capitulator," was created an Irish baron, with the title of Lord Blakeney, which 
 became extinct in 1761.— T. 
 
304 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 Venice. The last I had before was dated the 19th Dec, 
 1754. I received it 19th Jan., 1755. Any you sent in 1756, 
 besides this of the 8th Dec, miscarried. I bundle up all your 
 letters and keep a hst of the dates of what I send you, so that 
 I cannot mistake as to either. I do not recollect that any 
 letter sent me from a foreign country besides yours ever mis- 
 carried. As to those I send abroad, I always send two servants 
 with them to the post-office, so that I do not trust to one ser- 
 vant's honesty, and the officer of the post sees there is evidence 
 of the delivery, so that his neglect or fraud may easily appear. 
 This method is taken by all foreign ministers at all courts. 
 
 I have now something to mention which I believe will be 
 agreeable to you. I mean some particulars relating to my 
 Lord Bute, which you have not learned from the prints or 
 from our minister at Venice. He stood higher in the late 
 P. of Wales's favour than any man. His attendance at 
 Leicester House, where this young prince' has resided ever 
 since his father's death, continued without intermission till 
 new officers were to be placed about him. It is said that 
 another person was designed to be groom of the stole, but that 
 the prince's earnest request was complied with in my lord's 
 favour. It is supposed that the governors, preceptors, &c., 
 that were before about him are now laid aside, and that my 
 lord is his principal adviser. 
 
 It is not easy to express how well bred and reasonable the 
 prince always appears at his public levee every Thursday, 
 and on all other occasions. The K. of France and the Em- 
 press of Germany always show themselves to great advantage, 
 and this young prince's behaviour is equal to that of either of 
 them. He is supposed to know the true state of this country, 
 and to have the best inclinations to do all in his power to make 
 it flourish. 
 
 These appearances do much honour to my lord, and the 
 continuance of his favour is, I believe, wished by all that are 
 unconnected with some of those who have been ministers of 
 state. 
 
 ' Afterwards George the Third.— T. 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 30.5 
 
 " ' TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Venice, AprU 3 [1757].' 
 
 My dear Child, — Yours of Feb. 20th relieved me from 
 a great deal of uneasiness that I had suffered a long time from 
 your silence. Why will you not order one of your daughters 
 to write, when you are unable to do it ? But I have said so 
 much on that subject I will mention it no more. Many of 
 my letters to you remain unanswered, particularly that in 
 which is enclosed the captain's note for the box I have 
 directed to Lady Augusta Stuart. 
 
 Several English are expected here at the Ascension. I hope 
 to find an opportunity of sending you the necklace. I have 
 been persuaded to take a little house here, as living in lodgings 
 is really disagreeable. However, I still retain my favourite 
 palace at Padua, where I intend to reside the greatest part of 
 the year. In the mean time, I amuse myself with buying and 
 placing furniture, in which I only consult neatness and con- 
 venience, having long renounced (as it is fit I should) all 
 things bordering on magnificence. I confess I sometimes in- 
 dulge my taste in baubles, which is as excusable in our second 
 childhood as our first. I am sorry the Duchess of Portland 
 has not received my thanks for her obliging letter. I also de- 
 sired to know the name of the merchant to whom the Duke 
 consigned the legacy left me by Lady Oxford, which I have 
 not yet heard of. General Graham is gone into the country 
 for his health. I hope his return soon, but he is preparing 
 for a tour on the frontiers of these dominions. I see in the 
 newspapers the names of the following books : Fortunate 
 Mistress, Accomplished Rake, Mrs. Charke's Memoirs, Modern 
 Lovers, History of Two Orphans, Memoirs of David Ranger, 
 Miss [Mosjtyn, Dick Hazard, Histoiy of a Lady Platonist, 
 Sophia Shakespear, Jasper Banks, Frank Hammond, Sir 
 Andrew Thompson, Van a Clergyman's Son, Cleanthes and 
 Celimena. I do not doubt at least the greatest part of these 
 are trash, lumber, &c. ; however, they will serve to pass away 
 
 ' The letter is indorsed 1756 ; but the date should, no doubt, be 1757. — T. 
 VOL. II. X 
 
306 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 the idle time, if you will he so kind to send them to your most 
 affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and hearty blessing to all 
 my grandchildren. 
 
 Lord Roseberry is in this town at present; no bad figure, 
 
 but 1 am sorry for him. He is as ridiculous as a man 
 
 that would carrj' oysters to Colchester ; he is at the expense 
 of the carriage, and may find as good in every corner. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Venice, May 30 [1757]. 
 
 It is a long time since I have heard from my dear child, 
 though I have wrote several times, and, indeed, never fail to 
 do it, at least once in a fortnight, but I hear many packets 
 have been lost, which may occasion this interruption of our 
 correspondence. I will not frighten myself by supposing that 
 you or your family are indisposed. I seize with great pleasure 
 the opportunity of writing by a sure hand ; I send this by Mr. 
 Anderson, who has also promised to deliver to you a pearl 
 necklace consisting of forty-six pearls, and a pair of earrings, 
 which are not altogether worthy to accompany it, but if you 
 do not like them, present them to Lady Jane to make up for 
 the small value of her ring. It is some months since I sent 
 Lady Augusta a plaything, which I intended to be followed 
 by a box of various others if that came safe ; I have hitherto 
 had no account of it from you, nor an answer to a question I 
 have desired you to ask more than once, what is the name of 
 the merchant to whom the Duke of Portland consigned the 
 legacy left me by dear Lady Oxford? Here are a great 
 number of English travellers, and two ladies, one of them 
 Mi's. Greville, sister-in-law to your old friend Mrs. Broughton. 
 Unavoidable visits, joined with fitting and furnishing, hardly 
 leave me any time to dispose of to my own taste, which is (as 
 it ought to be) more solitary than ever. I left my hermitage, 
 that whai' effects I have might not be dissipated by servants, 
 as they would have been, probably, if I had died there; 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 307 
 
 I begged of your father (when I was at Avignon) that 
 they might be yours, which he generously promised me. To 
 say truth, I am very uneasy, knowing nobody here I can con- 
 fide in. General Graham being gone for a long time, and the 
 British minister^ here such a scandalous fellow, in every sense of 
 that word, he is not to be trusted to change a sequin, despised by 
 this government for his smuggling, which was his original pro- 
 fession, and always surrounded with pimps and brokers, who are 
 his privy councillors. Sir J. Gray was, as I am told, universally 
 esteemed, but, alas, he is at Naples. I wish the maxims of 
 Queen Elizabeth were revived, who always chose for her 
 foreign ministers men whose birth and behaviour would make 
 the nation respected, people being apt to look upon them as a 
 sample of their countrymen ; if those now employed are so. 
 Lord have mercy upon us ! I have seen only Mr. Villette at 
 Turin, who knew how to support his character. How much 
 the nation has suffered by false intelligence, I believe you are 
 very sensible of, and how impossible it is to get truth either 
 from a fool or a knave. Company forces me upon an abrupt 
 conclusion. I am ever, my dear child. 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Padua, July 7 [1757]. 
 
 My dear Child, — I received yours last night, which gave 
 me a pleasure beyond what I am able to express (this is not 
 according to the common expression, but a simple truth). I 
 had not heard from you of some months, and was in my heart 
 very uneasy, from the apprehension of some misfortune in 
 your family; though, as I always endeavour to avoid the 
 anticipation of evil, which is a source of pain, and can never 
 be productive of any good, I stifled my fear as much as 
 possible, yet it cost me many a midnight pang. You have 
 been the passion of my life ; you need thank me for nothing ; 
 
 1 John Murraj', the English resident at Venice. Lady Mary's disputes with him 
 are the frequent subject of complaints in her letters. — T, 
 
 x2 
 
308 CORKESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 I gratify myself whenever I can oblige you. I have already 
 given into the hands of Mr. Anderson a long letter for you, 
 but it is now of so old a date, I accompany it with another. 
 His journey has been delayed by a very extraordinary accident, 
 which might have proved as fatal as that of Lord Drumlan- 
 righ, or that, which I think worse, which happened to my 
 convert Mr. Butler : fortunately it has only served to set the 
 characters of both the governor and the pupil in a more 
 amiable light. Mr. Archer was at breakfast with six other 
 English gentlemen, and handling a blunderbuss, which he did 
 not know to be charged, it burst, and distributed among them 
 six chained bullets, beside the splinters ; which flew about in 
 the manner you may imagine. His own hand was con- 
 siderably wounded, yet the first word he spoke (without any 
 regard to his own smart and danger) was, " I hope nobody is 
 hurt:" — nobody was hurt but himself, who has been ever 
 since under cure, to preserve two of his fingers which were 
 very much torn. He had also a small rasure on his cheek, 
 which is now quite healed. The paternal care and tenderness 
 Mr. Anderson has shown on this occasion, has recommended 
 him to everybody. I wanted nothing to raise that esteem 
 which is due to his sterling honesty and good heart, which I 
 do not doubt you value as much as I do. If that wretch 
 
 Hickman had been But this is a melancholy thought, 
 
 and as such ought to be suppressed. 
 
 How important is the charge of youth I and how useless all 
 the advantages of nature and fortune without a well-turned 
 mind 1 I have lately heard of a very shining instance of this 
 truth, from two gentlemen (very deserving ones they seem to 
 be) who have had the ciiriosity to travel into Moscovy, and 
 now return to England with Mr. Archer. I inquired after 
 my old acqiiaintance Sir Charles [Hanbury] Williams, who I 
 hear is much broken, both in his spirits and constitution. 
 How happy might that man have been, if there had been 
 added to his natural and acquired endowments a dash of 
 morality ! If he had known how to distinguish between false 
 and true felicity; and, instead of seeking to increase an estate 
 
MK. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 309 
 
 already too large, and hunting after pleasures that have made 
 him rotten and ridiculous, he had bounded his desires of 
 wealth, and followed the dictates of his conscience. His 
 servile ambition has gained him two yards of red ribbon, and 
 an exile into a miserable country, where there is no society 
 and so little taste, that I believe he suffers under a dearth of 
 flatterers. This is said for the use of your growing sons, 
 whom I hope no golden temptations will induce to marry 
 women they cannot love, or comply with measures they do not 
 approve. All the happiness this world can afford is more 
 within reach than is generally .supposed. Whoever seeks 
 pleasure will undoubtedly find pain ; whoever will pursue 
 ease will as certainly find pleasures. The world's esteem is 
 the highest gratification of human vanity; and that is more 
 easily obtained in a moderate fortune than an overgrown one, 
 which is seldom possessed, never gained, without envy. I say 
 esteem ; for, as to applause, it is a youthful pursuit, never to 
 be forgiven after twenty, and natin-ally succeeds the childish 
 desire of catching the setting sun, which I can remember 
 running very hard to do : a fine thing truly if it could be 
 caught ; but experience soon shows it to be impossible. A 
 Avise and honest man lives to his own heart, without that silly 
 splendour that makes him a prey to knaves, and which com- 
 monly ends in his becoming one of the fraternity. I am very 
 glad to hear Lord Bute's decent economy sets him above any- 
 thing of that kind. I wish it may become national. A col- 
 lective body of men differs very little from a single man ; 
 frugality is the foundation of generosity. I have often been 
 complimented on the English heroism, who have thrown away 
 so many millions, without any prospect of advantage to them- 
 selves, purely to succour a distressed princess. I never could 
 hear these praises without some impatience ; they sounded 
 to me like the panegyrics made by the dependents on the 
 D. [Duke] of N. [Newcastle] and poor Lord Oxford, bubbled 
 when they were commended, and laughed at when undone. 
 Some late events will, I hope, open our eyes : we shall see we 
 are an island, and endeavour to extend our commerce rather 
 
310 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 than the Quixote reputation of redressing wrongs and placing 
 diadems on heads that should be equally indifferent to us. 
 When time has ripened mankind into common sense, the 
 name of conqueror will be an odious title. I could easily 
 prove that, had the Spaniards established a trade with the 
 Americans, they would have enriched their country more than 
 by the addition of twenty-two kingdoms, and all the mines 
 they now work — I do not say possess ; since, thovigh they are 
 the proprietors, others enjoy the profit. 
 
 My letter is too long ; I beg your pardon for it ; 'tis seldom 
 I have an opportunity of speaking to you, and I would have 
 you know all the thoughts of your most affectionate mother. 
 
 I desire you would thank your father for the jewels ; you 
 know I have nothing of my own. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Sept. 30, 1757. 
 
 My deae Child, — Lord Bute has been so obliging as to 
 let me know your safe delivery, and the birth of another 
 daughter ;^ may she be as meritorious in your eyes as you are 
 in mine ! I can wish nothing better to you both, though I 
 have some reproaches to make you. Daughter ! daughter ! 
 don't call names ; you are always abusing my pleasures, which 
 is what no mortal will bear. Trash, lumber, sad stuff, are the 
 titles you give to my favourite amusement. If I called a 
 white staff a stick of wood, a gold key gilded brass, and the 
 ensigns of illustrious orders coloured strings, this may be phi- 
 losophically true, but would be very ill received. We have 
 all our playthings : happy are they that can be contented with 
 those they can obtain : those hours are spent in the wisest 
 manner, that can easiest shade the ills of life, and are the least 
 productive of ill consequences. I think my time better em- 
 ployed in reading the adventures of imaginary people, than the 
 Duchess of Marlborough's, who passed the latter years of her 
 life in paddling with her will, and contriving schemes of 
 
 ' Lady Louisa Stuart, bom Aug. 15, 1757. — T. 
 
MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 311 
 
 plaguing some, and extracting praise from others, to no pur- 
 pose ; eternally disappointed, and eternally fretting. The 
 active scenes are over at my age. I indulge, with all the art 
 I can, my taste for reading. If I would confine it to valuable 
 books, they^are almost as rare as valuable men. I must be 
 content with what I can find. As I approach a second child- 
 hood, I endeavour to enter into the pleasures of it. Your 
 youngest son is, perhaps, at this very moment riding on 
 a poker with great delight, not at all regretting that it is not 
 a gold one, and much less wishing it an Arabian horse, which 
 he would not know how to manage. I am reading an idle 
 tale,, not expecting wit or truth in it, and am very glad it is 
 not^metaphysics to puzzle my judgment, or history to mislead 
 my opinion. He fortifies his health by exercise ; I calm my 
 cares by oblivion. The methods may appear low to busy 
 people ; but, if he improves his strength, and I forget my 
 infirmities, we attain very desirable ends. I shall be much 
 pleased if you would send your letters in Mr. Pitt's packet. 
 
 I have not heard from your father of a long time. I hope 
 he is well, because you do not mention him. 
 
 I am ever, dear child, your most afi'ectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Venice, Oct. 8 [1757]. 
 
 I AM sorry, my dear child, you fatigued yourself with 
 writing during your lying-in. You need thank me for nothing. 
 I have already told you (and it is literally true) that I please 
 myself whenever it is in my power to do anything obliging to 
 you. 
 
 I explained myself ill, or you did not take the right sense of 
 my demand. I would know of Mr. Prescot the name of the 
 merchant to whom he iresigned Lady Oxford's legacy. I have 
 received both your bills of lading, and am in daily expectation 
 of the ship, which is not yet arrived. I am very glad to hear 
 of your father's health ; mine is better than I ought to expect 
 
312 
 
 CORRESFONDEN-CE WITH 
 
 at my time of life. I believe Mr. Anderson talks partially of 
 me, as to my looks ; I know nothing of the matter. It is 
 eleven years since I have seen ftiy figure in a glass : the last 
 reflexion I saw there was so disagreeable, I resolved to spare 
 myself such raortifications for the future, and shall continue 
 that resolution to my life's end. To indulge all pleasing 
 amusements, and avoid all images that give disgust, is, in 
 my opinion, the best method to attain or confirm, health. I 
 ought to consider yours, and shorten my letter, while you are 
 in a condition that makes reading uneasy to you. God bless 
 you and yours, my dear child. It is the most ardent wish of 
 
 Your affectionate mother. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 [Oct. 9, 1757.] 
 
 My dear Child, — I received yours of September 15, this 
 morning, October 9, and am exceedingly glad of the health of 
 you and your family. I am fond of your little Louisa : to 
 say truth, I was afraid of a Bess, a Peg, or a Suky, which all 
 give me the ideas of washing-tubs and scouring of kettles. 
 
 I am much obliged to Mr. Hamilton, which is, according to 
 the academy of compliments, more his goodness than my 
 deserts : I saw him but twice, and both times in mixed com- 
 pany : but am surprised you have never mentioned Lord Eose- 
 berry, by whom I sent a packet to you, and took some pains to 
 show him civilities : he breakfasted with me at Padua : I gave 
 him bread-and-butter of my own manufacture, which is the 
 admiration of all the English. He promised to give you full 
 information of myself and all my employments. He seemed 
 delighted with my house and gardens, and perhaps has forgot 
 he ever saw me, or anything that belonged to me. We have 
 had many English here. Mr. Greville, his lady, and her suite 
 of adorers, deserved particular mention : he was so good to pre- 
 sent me with his curious book :^ since the days of the Honour- 
 
 ' Of the book in question, Horace Walpole, in a letter to General Conway, 
 speaks thus : " A wonderful book, by a more wonderful author, GrevUle. It is 
 palled Maxims and Characters ; several of the former are pretty; all the latter so 
 absurd, that one in particular, which at the beginning you take for the character 
 of II man, tiirns out to be the character of a post-chaise." — W 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 313 
 
 al)le Mr. Edward Howard, nothing has ever been pubhshed 
 like it. I told him the age wanted an Earl of Dorset to cele- 
 brate it properly ; and he was so well pleased with that speech, 
 that he visited me every day, to the great comfort of madame, 
 who was entertained, meanwhile, with parties of pleasure of 
 another kind, though I fear I lost his esteem at last by refus- 
 ing to correspond with him. However, I qualified my denial 
 by complaining of my bad eyes not permitting me to multiply 
 my correspondents. I could give you the characters of many 
 other travellers if I thought it would be of any use to you. 
 It is melancholy to see the pains our pious minister takes to 
 debauch the younger sort of them : but, as you say, all is me- 
 lancholy that relates to Great Britain. I have a high value 
 for Mr. Pitt's^ probity and understanding, without having the 
 honour of being acquainted with him. I am persuaded he is 
 able to do whatever is within the bounds of possibility ; but 
 there is an Augean stable to be cleaned, and several other 
 labours, that I doubt if Hercules himself would be equal to. 
 
 If the Duke of Kingston only intends to build a hunting- 
 seat at Thoresby, I think it is most proper for the situation, 
 which was certainly by nature never designed for a palace. 
 I hope he will not employ the same architect that built his 
 house in London. You see I am not entirely divested of 
 family prejudices, though I thank the Lord they are not 
 lively enough to give me violent uneasiness. I cannot help 
 wishing well to my ever dear brother's children : however, I 
 have the conscious satisfaction of knowing I have done my 
 duty towards them, as far as my power extended. Nobody 
 can be served against their will. May all your young ones 
 grow up an honour to you ! I am told one objection to Lord 
 Mountstuart, that he is too handsome, which is a fault that 
 will certainly mend every day. I should be glad to hear your 
 daughters accused of the same defect. My paper is out : I 
 have scarce room to assure my dear child that I am ever your 
 most affectionate mother. 
 
 I The first Earl of Chatham.— W. 
 
314 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO ME. WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 • [November 12, 1767.] 
 
 I RECEIVED yours of October 15 yesterday, November 11. 
 I was quite frightened at the relation of your indisposition, 
 and am very glad I did not know it till it was over. I hope 
 you will no more suifer the physicians to try experiments with 
 so good a constitution as yours. I am persuaded mineral 
 waters, which are provided by nature, are the best, perhaps 
 the only real remedies, particularly that of Tunbridge, of 
 which I have a great opinion. I would not trouble you with 
 a long letter, which may be uneasy to you to read. 
 
 My most fervent wishes are for your health and happiness. 
 Whatever I write to my daughter is for you. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE.^ 
 
 Jan. 20, 1758. 
 
 1 STAY here, though I am on many accounts better pleased 
 with Padua. Our great minister, the resident, affects to 
 treat me as one in the opposition. I am inclined to laugh 
 rather than be displeased at his political airs; yet, as I am 
 among strangers, they are disagreeable ; and, could I have 
 foreseen them, would have settled in some other part of the 
 world ; but I have taken leases of my houses, been at much 
 pains and expense in furnishing them, and am no longer of 
 an age to make long journeys. I saw, some months ago, a 
 countryman of yours (Mr. Adam^), who desires to be intro- 
 duced to you. He seemed to me, in one short visit, to be a 
 man of genius, and I have heard his knowledge of architecture 
 much applauded. He is now in England. 
 
 Your account of the changes in ministerial affairs do not 
 surprise me ;'' but nothing could be more astonishing than 
 their all coming in together. It puts me in mind of a friend 
 
 ' This letter, or fragment of a letter, was published by Mr. Dallaway as a 
 part of a letter dated "Jan. 20, 1758." I have not found the original. — T. 
 
 2 Mr. Robert Adam, -who built Caenwood, Luton Park, &c., and the Adelphi, 
 in conjunction with his brother. His designs are published. — D. 
 
 3 Alluding to the coalition of parties, which took place in the summer of 
 1757.— T. 
 
MR. ■WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 315 
 
 of mine who had a large family of favourite animals ; and 
 not knowing how to convey them to his country-house in se- 
 parate equipages, he ordered a Dutch mastiff, a cat and her 
 kittens, a monkey, and a parrot, all to be packed up together 
 in one large hamper, and sent by a waggon. One may easily 
 guess how this set of company made their journey ; and I have 
 never been able to think of the present compound ministry 
 without the idea of barking, scratching, and screaming.' 'Tis 
 too ridiculous a one, I own, for the gravity of their characters, 
 and still more for the situation the kingdom is in ; for as much 
 as one may encourage the love of laughter, 'tis impossible to 
 be indifferent to the welfare of one's native country. 
 Adieu ! Your ailectionate mother. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Venice, Feb. 21 [1758?]. 
 
 My dear Child, — If half of the letters I have sent to 
 you have reached you, I believe you think I have always a 
 pen in my hand ; but, I am really so uneasy by your long 
 silence, I cannot forbear inquiring the reason of it, by all the 
 methods I can imagine. My time of life is naturally inclined 
 to fear ; and though I resist (as well as I can) all the infirmi- 
 ties incident to age, I feel but too sensibly the impressions of 
 melancholy, when I have any doubt of your welfare. You 
 fancy, perhaps, that the public papers give me information 
 enough ; and that when I do not see in them any misfortune 
 of yours, I ought to conclude you have none. I can assure 
 you I never see any, excepting by accident. Our resident 
 
 1 Lord "Whamcliife remarks that '* tMs story has been versified by Lord Byron 
 (Don Juan, canto iii. stanza 18), but without any reference to the source from 
 whence he drew it." It is remarl^able that Lady Mary herself appears to have 
 appropriated the passage from a letter of her friend, Miss Tichborne, dated July 25, 
 1757, among the Wortley papers. The original passage is as follows: "The 
 ■world was prepared for seeing victory declare on the side of any one of them ; 
 but nothing could be more astonishing than their all coming in together, as is now 
 the case, and though their profesfiions have been directly opposite while they were 
 out, they now undertake to agree in everything. It put me in mind of a friend of 
 mine who had a large family of favourite animals ; and not knowing how to 
 convey them to his country-house in separate equipages, he ordered a Dutch mas- 
 tiff, a cat and her kittens, a monkey, and parrot, all to be packed together in one 
 
316 CORRESPONDENCE -WITH • ■ 
 
 has not the good breeding to send them to me ; and after 
 having asked for them once or twice, and being told they 
 were engaged, I am unwilhng to demand a trifle at the 
 expense of thanking a man who does not desire to oblige me ; 
 indeed, since the ministry of Mr. Pitt, he is so desirous to 
 signalise his zeal for the contrary faction, he is perpetually 
 saying ridiculous things, to manifest his attachment ; and, as 
 he looks upon me (nobody knows why) to be the friend of a 
 man I never saw, he has not visited me once this winter. 
 The misfortune is not great. I cannot help laughing at my 
 being mistaken for a politician. I have often been so, though 
 I ever thought politics so far removed from my sphere. I 
 cannot accuse myself of dabbling in them, even when I heard 
 them talked over in all companies ; but, as the old song says, 
 
 " Tho' through the wide world we should range, 
 'Tis in vain from our fortune to fly." 
 
 I forget myself and tattle on, without remembering you 
 are too much employed to throw away time on reading insig- 
 nificant letters ; you should, however, forgive them, in conside- 
 ration of the real affection of your very loving mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 [Venice, May 3, 1758.] 
 
 Dear Child, — I received yours of the 20th of Feb. yes- 
 terday, May the 2nd, so irregular is the post. I could forgive 
 the delay, but I cannot pardon the loss of so many that have 
 never arrived at all. Mr. Hamilton has not yet come, and 
 perhaps will not of some months. I hear he is at Leghorn. 
 General Graham has been dangerously ill ; but I am told he 
 is now on his return. We have at present the most extra- 
 large hamper, and sent by a waggon. One may easily guess how this set of com- 
 pany made their journey ; and I have never been able to thinli of the present com- 
 pound ministry without the idea of barking, scratching, and screaming. 'Tis too 
 ridiculous a one (I own) for the gravity of their characters, and still more for the 
 situation this kingdom is in ; for as much as one may encourage the love of 
 laughter, 'tis impossible to be indifl'erent to the intere.st of the countrv one Uvea 
 in."— T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 317 
 
 vagant weather [that] has been known for some years; it is 
 as cold and wet as an English November. Thursday next is 
 the ceremony of the Ascension ; the show will be entirely 
 spoilt if the rain continues, to the serious affliction of the fine 
 ladies, who all make new clothes on that occasion. We have 
 had lately two magnificent weddings ; Lord Mandeville^ had 
 the pleasure of dancing at one of them. I appeared at neither, 
 being formal balls, where no masks were admitted, and all 
 people set out in high dress, which I have long renounced, as 
 it is very fit I should ; though there were several grand- 
 mothers there, who exhibited their jewels. In this country 
 nobody grows old until they are bed-rid. 
 
 I wish your daughters to resemble me in nothing but the 
 love of reading, kno\ving, by experience, how far it is capable 
 of softening the cruelest accidents of life ; even the happiest 
 cannot be passed over without many uneasy hours ; and there 
 is no remedy so easy as books, which, if they do not give 
 cheerfulness, at least restore quiet to the most troubled mind. 
 Those that fly to cards or company for relief, generally find 
 they only exchange one misfortune for another. 
 
 You have so much business on your hands, I will not take 
 you from more proper employment by a long letter. I am, 
 my dear child, with the warmest affection, 
 
 Ever your tender mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 May 13 [1758]. 
 
 It was with great pleasure I received my dear child's letter 
 of April 15 this day. May 13. Do not imagine that I have 
 had hard thoughts of you when I lamented your silence : I 
 think I know your good heart too well to suspect you of any 
 unkindness to me ; in your circumstances many unavoidable 
 accidents may hinder your writing, but having not heard from 
 you for many months, my fears for your health made me very 
 uneasy. I am surprised I am not oftener low-spirited, con- 
 
 ' George Viscount MandeviUe, eldest son of Robert Duke of Manchester. — D. 
 
318 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 sidering the vexations I am exposed to by the folly of Murray ; 
 I suppose he attributes to me some of the marks of contempt 
 he is treated with ; without remembering that he was in no 
 higher esteem before I came. I confess I have received great 
 civilities from some friends that I made here so long ago as 
 the year '40, but upon my honour have never named his name, 
 or heard him mentioned by any noble Venetian whatever ; 
 nor have in any shape given him the least provocation to all 
 the low mahce he has shown me, which I have overlooked as 
 below my notice, and would not trouble you with any part of 
 it at present if he had not invented a new persecution, which 
 may be productive of ill consequences. Here arrived, a few 
 days ago. Sir James Steuart with his lady ;^ that name was 
 sufficient to make me fly to wait on her. I was charmed to 
 find a man of uncommon sense and learning, and a lady that 
 without beauty is more amiable than the fairest of her sex. I 
 offered them all the little good offices in my power, and in- 
 vited them to supper ; upon which our wise minister has dis- 
 covered that I am in the interest of popery and slavery. As 
 he has often said the same thing of Mr. Pitt, it would give me 
 no mortification, if I did not apprehend that his fertile imagi- 
 nation may support this wise idea by such circumstances as 
 may influence those that do not know me. It is very remark- 
 able that after having suffered all the rage of that party at 
 Avignon for my attachment to the present reigning family, I 
 should be accused here of favouring rebellion, when I hoped 
 all our odious divisions were forgotten. 
 
 I return you many thanks, my dear child, for your kind in- 
 tention of sending me another set of books. I am still in 
 your debt nine shillings, and send you enclosed a note on 
 Child to pay for whatever you buy ; but no more duplicates ; 
 as well as I love nonsense, I do not desire to have it twice over 
 in the same words ; no translations ; no periodical papers ; 
 though I confess some of the "World entertained me veiy 
 much, particularly Lord Chesterfield and Horry Walpole, 
 whom I knew at Florence ; but whenever I met Dodsley I 
 
 ' See next letter. — T. 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHEES. 319 
 
 wished him out of the World with all my heart.^ The title 
 was a very lucky one, being as you see productive of puns 
 world without end ; which is all the species of wit some people 
 can either practise or understand. I beg you would direct the 
 next box to me, without passing through the hands of Smith f 
 he makes so much merit of giving himself the trouble of 
 asking for it, that I am quite weary of him ; beside that he 
 imposes on me in everything. He has lately married Murray's 
 sister, a beauteous virgin of forty, who after having refused 
 all the peers in England, because the nicety of her conscience 
 would not permit her to give her hand when her heart was 
 untouched, she remained without a husband till the charms of 
 that fine gentleman, Mr. Smith, who is only eighty-two, de- 
 termined her to change her condition. In short, they are (as 
 Lord Orrery says of Swift and company) an illustrious group, 
 but with that I have nothing to do. I should be sorry to ruin 
 anybody, or offend a man of such strict honour as Lord Hol- 
 demesse, who, like a great politician, has provided for a worth- 
 less relation without any expense. It has long been a maxim 
 not to consider if a man is fit for a place, but if the place is fit 
 for him, and we see the fruit of these Machiavellian proceed- 
 ings. All I desire is, that Mr. Pitt would require of this 
 
 * The first number of the "World, an essay paper projected by Edward Moore, 
 the author of the Gamester, appeared on the 4th of January, 1753 ; the last on the 
 30th of December, 1756. It was published weekly, and numbering among its 
 contributors Horace Walpole, Lord Chesterfield, Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, 
 the Earl of Bath, Joseph Warton, and other distinguished names, soon attracted a 
 larger share of attention than the herd of periodical papers of the day. Dodsley, 
 its publisher, is not known to have contributed more than one paper, a fact which 
 will hardly justify Lady Marj-'s pun. Walpole, in his " Short Notes of My Life," 
 says; "Eeb. 8, 1753, was published a paper I had written, in a periodical work called 
 
 the World I wrote eight more numbers, besides two that were not printed 
 
 then, and one containing a character of Mr. Fox, which I had written some years 
 before." From the manuscript papers of Dodsley in the British Museum, it ap- 
 pears that Moore agreed to furnish essays at *' three guineas each paper," with 
 half property in reprints. — T. 
 
 2 Joseph Smith, Esq., Consul at Venice. He made a large collection of paint- 
 ings and gems, which were purchased by King George the Third for 20,000^. 
 The Dactyliotheca Smithiana, in two vols, quarto, was published in 1765. — D. 
 Horace Walpole says Smith " had a fine library, of which he knew nothing at all 
 but the title-pages ;" and Miss Berry relates that he " engaged Canaletti for a cer- 
 tain number of years to paint exclusively for him at a fixed price, and sold his 
 pictures at an advanced price to English travellers." Smith was a widower, 
 having married, first, Mrs. Tofts, the celebrated opera singer, upon whom Pope has 
 an epigram. — T. 
 
320 . CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 noble minister to behave civilly to me, the contrary conduct 
 being very disagreeable.' I will talk further on this subject 
 in another letter, if this arrives safely. Let me have an 
 answer as soon as possible, and think of me as 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to aU yours, 
 who are very near my heart. 
 
 [Indorsed by Lady Frances Steuart, " May, 1758, from Venice to Padua, — the 
 first letter after parting with her ladyship and coming to Padua."] 
 
 I AM in great pain both for your health and situation, and 
 wish you would permit me to be of any service to you. I 
 know what it is to be without servants in a strange country, 
 and how far people are imposed on that bear the name of 
 English and heretics into the bargain ; the folly of British 
 boys, and stupidity or knavery of governors, have gained us 
 the glorious title of Golden Asses all over Italy. I never was 
 in the Padua locanda, but except they are more virtuous than 
 any I ever met with, you will be very ill served, and very well 
 robbed. Here is a fellow recommended to me by Baron 
 Talmua, who says he will answer for his honesty and capa- 
 city; he can serve as cook, valet-de-chambre, purveyor, and 
 steward ; he speaks no German, but is very willing to follow 
 you, and presumes he shall soon learn it. I think recommend- 
 ing servants almost as dangerous as making matches (which, 1 
 thank the Lord, I never engaged in) : nothing could oblige 
 me to venture on it but your distress, and the good opinion I 
 have of the probity of Baron Talmua, who is a German man 
 of quality I have known some time, and am much obliged to. 
 He has earnestly pressed me to make you this offer, on hear- 
 ing me lament the seduction of your woman. 
 
 1 In another letter Lady Mary says that Murray having been asked why he did 
 not behave civilly to her, replied that it was not in his instructions. — T- 
 
 ^ Sir James Steuart, Bart., of Coltness, the political economist. He married in 
 October, 1743, Lady Frances Wemyss, daughter of James fourth Earl of Wemyss, 
 who is the lady here addressed. Sir James joined the cause of the Pretender in 
 1745, and was, in consequence, compelled to remain abroad for nearly twenty 
 years. — T. 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 321 
 
 This minute I am shown a letter of my gastaldi (in French, 
 concierge ; I know no proper title for him in English). I 
 can assure you, sir and madam, his style grassier gave me more 
 pleasure than ever I received from the points of Voiture or the 
 puns of Swift or Pope, since my secretary assured me that it 
 contained an account of your well-being, and having honoured 
 my mansion with your presence ; he brags of having done his 
 duty in waiting on the two milordi ; and that you found the 
 palazzo very clean ; and he hopes you took nothing ill, though 
 you refused the portantina. In this manner were his hiero- 
 glyphics explained to me, which I am forced and pleased to 
 give faith to, as I do to the translators of Hebrew, though I 
 can make nothing of the figures myself. I have read over your 
 book,' Sir James, and have a great deal to say about it, though 
 nothing to object ; but must refer to another time ; having 
 literally six people in the room, according to their laudable 
 custom talking all at once, I hardly know what I say, but I 
 know what I think ; that I will get to Padua as fast as I can, 
 to enjoy the best company I ever knew. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Padua, May 29, 1758. 
 
 My dear Child, — My last letter was wrote in such a 
 fright, I do not remember one word I said ; and I presume 
 you could make nothing out of it ; I am now restored to my 
 usual calmness of mind, and hope I was more afraid than 
 hurt, being assured (I think from good hands) that my civility 
 to a distressed lady and gentleman can no way be an injury 
 to you, or give any suspicion of my being engaged in an in- 
 terest that was always foreign both to my principles and in- 
 clination. You mention the letter you received from Mr. 
 Law, but say nothing of his pupil, Mr. Oliver, who, if his 
 estate be so large as I am told, may be worthy the regard of 
 my granddaughters, being a generous, good-natured man, and 
 willing to do right whenever he sees it. Mr. Pitt is obliged to 
 
 1 Probably his Dissertation upon the Doctrine and Principles of Money applied 
 to the German Coin, published at Tubingen in 1758. — T. 
 
 VOL. II. Y . 
 
322 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 him, having had high words with Murray upon his account. I 
 did not charge him with my letter, suspecting the carelessness 
 incident to youth, though I no way mistrusted his integrity. 
 But as they proposed staying some time in Germany, I did not 
 send my token to you by either of them, expecting many 
 English this Ascension. But, by the political contrivances of 
 our great minister, I have seen few, and those in such a cool 
 way, that I did not think it proper to ask a favour. I men- 
 tioned it to Lord Mandeville, and Colonel Otway, who travels 
 with him : they promised to wait on me for it, but left the 
 town suddenly ; on which I heard lamented the slavery the 
 young nobility were under to formal governors, and easily 
 guessed the reasons for their departure. 
 
 I am afraid you may think some imprudent behaviour of 
 mine has occasioned all this ridiculous persecution; I can 
 assure you I have always treated him and his family with the 
 utmost civility, and am now retired to Padua, to avoid the 
 comments that will certainly be made on his extraordinary 
 conduct towards me. I only desire privacy and quiet, and am 
 very well contented to be without visits, which of tener disturb 
 than amuse me. My single concern is the design he has 
 formed of securing (as he calls it) my effects immediately on 
 my decease ; if they ever fall into his hands, I am persuaded 
 they will never arrive entire into yours, which is a very uneasy 
 thought to, dear child. 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My blessing to all yours, and compliments to Lord Bute. 
 
 TO SIR JAMES AND LADY FRANCES STEUART. 
 
 [Indorsed by Lady Frances Steuart, " From Venice or Padua, when we were with 
 her ladyship."] 
 
 Here is predestination in abundance ! I am not born to 
 be happy ; perhaps nobody can be so without great allays, — 
 all philosophers, ancient and modem, agree in that sentiment. 
 I cannot come to you for reasons I M'ill whisper to Lady 
 Fanny, and I dare not accept your company for fear of affect- 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 323 
 
 ing Sir James's health, which is more precious to me than to 
 anybody, always excepting sua amabilissima consorte.' 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 [July 4, 1758.] 
 
 My dear Child, — I am extremely delighted by your letter 
 of May 6th, which I received yesterday, July 3rd. Your 
 pleasure in your daughter's company is exactly what I have 
 felt in yours, and recals to me many tender ideas, perhaps 
 better forgot. You observe very justly, my affection, which 
 was confined to one, must be still more intense than yours, 
 which is divided among so many. I cannot help being 
 anxious for their future welfare, though thoroughly convinced 
 of the folly of being so. Human prudence is so short-sighted, 
 it is common to see the wisest schemes disappointed, and 
 things often take a more favourable turn than there is any 
 apparent reason to expect. My poor sister Grower, I really 
 think, shortened her life by fretting at the disagreeable pro- 
 spect of a numerous family, slenderly provided for ; yet you 
 see how well fortune has disposed of them. You may be as 
 lucky as Lady Selina Bathurst.'^ I wish Lady Mary's destiny 
 may lead her to a young gentleman I saw this spring.^ He 
 is son to Judge Hervey, but takes the name of Desbouverie, 
 on inheriting a very large estate from his mother. He will 
 not charm at first sight ; but I never saw a young man of 
 better understanding, with the strictest notions of honour and 
 morality, and, in my opinion, a peculiar sweetness of temper.. 
 Our acquaintance was short, he being summoned to England 
 on the death of his younger brother. I am persuaded he will 
 
 ' This is clearly said in joke. — W. This initial, -when pre6xed to the letters to 
 Sir James and Lady Steuart, must be understood as signifying only that they ap- 
 peared in Lord Whamoliffe's edition. It is probable that Lord Wharncliffe found 
 them already affixed to the letters as printed for private circulation. — T. 
 
 2 Lady Selina Shirley, daughter of Robert Earl Ferrers, -wife of Peter Bathurst, 
 Esq., of Clarendon Park, "Wilts. — D. 
 
 ' The gentleman referred to was the son of John Hervey, of Beachworth, Esq., 
 one of the Welsh Judges, by Anne, eldest daughter of Christopher Desbouverie, by 
 Elizabeth his wife, daughter and sole heir of Ralph Foreman, Esq., of Beachworth, 
 in Surrey. This Christopher was the youngest son of Sir Edward Desbouverie, 
 knighted in 1694, one of the ancestors of the Earl of Radnor. — W. 
 
 t2 
 
324 COERESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 never many for money, nor even for beauty. Your daughter's 
 character perfectly answers the description of what he wished 
 for his bride. Our conversation happened on the subject of 
 matrimony, in his last visit, his mind being much perplexed 
 on that subject, supposing his father, who is old and infirm, 
 had sent for him with some view of that sort. 
 
 You will laugh at the castles I build in relation to my 
 grandchildren ; and will scarcely think it possible those I have 
 never seen should so much employ my thoughts. I can assure 
 you that they are, next to yourself, the objects of my ten- 
 derest concern ; and it is not from custom, but my heart, 
 when I send them my blessing, and say that I am your most 
 affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute. 
 
 My dear Child,— I am glad you do not know (by dear 
 bought experience) the most despicable enemy can do great 
 mischief,^ and alas ! the most valuable friend little good. 
 Such is human-kind^ 
 
 TO THE' COUNTESS OE BUTE. 
 
 Padua, July 14 [1758]. 
 
 My dear Child,— I hope this will find you in perfect 
 health. I had a letter from your father last post, dated from 
 Newbold, which tells me a very agreeable piece of news, that 
 the contests of parties, so violent formerly (to the utter de- 
 struction of peace, civility, and common sense), are so hap- 
 pily terminated, that there is nothing of that sort mentioned 
 in good company. I think I ought to wish you and my 
 grandchildren joy on this general pacification, when I re- 
 member all the vexation I have gone through, from my youth 
 upwards, on the account of those di^asions, which touched me 
 no more than the disputes between the followers of Mahomet 
 and Ah, being always of opinion that politics and controversy 
 were as unbecoming to our sex as the dress of a prizefighter ; 
 and I would as soon have mounted Fig's theatre as have 
 
 • This probably alludes to her differences with Mr. Murray. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 325 
 
 Stewed all night in the gallery of a committee, as some ladies 
 of bright parts have done. 
 
 Notwithstanding this habitual (I believe I might say natural) 
 indifference, here am I involved in adventures, as siuprising 
 as any related in Amadis de Gaul, or even by Mr. Glanville.' 
 
 I can assure you I should not be more surprised at seeing 
 myself riding in the air on a broomstick, than in the figure of 
 a first-rate poHtician. You will stare to hear that your nurse 
 keeps her comer (as Lord Bolingbroke says of Miss Ogle- 
 thorpe) in this illustrious conspiracy. I really think the best 
 head of the junto is an English washerwoman, who has made 
 her fortune with all parties by her complaisance in changing her 
 religion, which gives her the merit of a new convert ; and her 
 charitable disposition of keeping a house of fair reception for 
 the EngUsh captains, sailors, &c., that are distressed by long 
 sea voyages (as Sir Samson Legend remarks in Love for 
 Love), gains her friends among all pubKc-spirited people : the 
 scenes are so comic, they deserve the pen of a Richardson to 
 do them justice. I begin to be persuaded the surest way of 
 preserving reputation, and having powerful protectors, is being 
 openly lewd and scandalous. I will not be so censorious to 
 take examples from my own sex ; but you see Doctor Swift, 
 who set at defiance all decency, truth, or reason, had a crowd 
 of admirers, and at their head the virtuous and ingenious Earl 
 of Orrery, the polite and learned Mr. Greville, with a number 
 of ladies of fine taste and unblemished characters ; while the 
 Bishop of Salisbury (Burnet, I mean), the most indulgent 
 parent, the most generous chiu-chman, and the most zealous 
 assertor of the rights and liberties of his country, was all his 
 life defamed and villified, and after his death most barbarously 
 calumniated, for having had the courage to write a history 
 without flattery. I knew him in my very early youth, and his 
 condescension in directing a girl in her studies, is an obliga- 
 tion I can never forget. 
 
 A propos of obligations ; I hope you remember yours to 
 
 ' In his History of Witchcraft : Sadducismus Triumphans, 1681. — W, 
 
326 COKRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 Lady KnatchbiJl. Her only son is here ;' his father has been 
 dead nine years ; he gave me the first news of it (so little do I 
 know of what passes amongst my acquaintance). I made him 
 the bad compliment of receiving him with tears in my eyes, 
 and told him bluntly I was extreme sorry for the loss of so 
 good a friend, without reflecting that it was telling him I was 
 sorry he was in possession of his estate ; however, he did not 
 seem offended, but rather pleased at the esteem I expressed for 
 his parents. I endeavoured to repair my blunder by all the 
 civilities in my power, and was very sincere in saying I wished 
 him well, for the sake of his dead and living relations. He 
 appears to me to be what the Duke of Kingston was at 
 Thoresby, though more happy in his guardians and governor. 
 The gentleman who is with him is a man of sense, and I be- 
 lieve has his pupil's interest really at ^heart ; but, there is 
 so much pains taken to make him despise instruction, I fear 
 he will not long resist allurements of pleasures which his con- 
 stitution cannot support. 
 
 Here is great joy on the nomination of Mr. Mackenzie for 
 Turin ; his friends hoping to see him on his journey. My 
 token for you lies dormant, and is likely so to do some time. 
 None of the English have visited me (excepting Sir W.), or in 
 so cold a way that it would be highly improper to ask favours of 
 them. He is going to Rome ; and it may be, I may be obHged 
 to wait till he returns, next Ascension, before I have an op- 
 portunity of conveying it. Such is the behaviour of my 
 loving countrymen ! — in recompense I meet with much friend- 
 ship amongst the noble Venetians, perhaps the more from 
 being no favourite of the man they dislike. It is the peculiar 
 glory of Mr. Mackenzie that the whole Sardinian court re- 
 joice in the expectation of his arrival, notwithstanding they 
 have been very well pleased with Lord Bristol. To say truth, 
 they are the only young men I have seen abroad that have 
 found the secret of introducing themselves into the best com- 
 pany. All the others now hving [here] (however dignified 
 
 ■ Sir Wyndham Knatchbull, of Mersham-Hatch, in Kent, succeeded his father 
 in 1749. Hia mother was Catharine, daughter of James Harris, of Salisbury. — D. 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 327 
 
 and distinguished), by herding together, and throTving away 
 their money on worthless objects, have only acquired the 
 glorious title of Golden Asses ; and, since the birth of the 
 ItaHan drama, Goldoni has adorned his scenes with gli milordi 
 Inglesi, in the same manner as Molifere represented his Parisian 
 marquises. If your agreeable brother-in-law is stiU at London, 
 I desire you would wish him joy in my name. If it be no 
 trouble to him, you may take that occasion of sending me 
 some books, particularly two small volumes lately wrote by 
 Mr. Horace Walpole.' My dear child, T ask your pardon for 
 the intolerable length of this trifling letter. You know age is 
 tattling, and something should be forgiven to the sincere affec- 
 tion with which I am ever. 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 Do not tell your father these foolish squabbles. It is the 
 only thing I would keep from his knowledge. I am appre- 
 hensive he should imagine some misplaced raillery or vivacity 
 of mine has drawn on me these ridiculous persecutions. 'Tis 
 really incredible they should be carried to such a height with- 
 out the least provocation. 
 
 My best -compliments to Lord Bute. I think myself much 
 obHged to him, and shall not forget it. My blessing to all my 
 grandchildren. I would have sent my packet to Mr. Hervey, 
 if I could have foreseen that I should not be visited by any 
 other. I do not doubt Sir Wyndham Knatchbull would 
 accept of the care of it ; but he is making the tour to Rome and 
 Naples, and does not intend for England till next spring. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Padua, July 29 [1758]. 
 
 My dear Child, — I am sm-e you laugh at my philosophy, 
 I own I dare make no more pretences to it after appearing so 
 much heated on a subject that (I agree with you) ought to 
 seem a trifle : but the idea of injuring you or offending your 
 father by any part of my conduct, is so sensible a pain it puts 
 
 ' His Catalogue of the Royal and Noble Authors of England.— T. 
 
328 Correspondence with 
 
 an end to all the stoicism that time and reflection have fur- 
 nished me with. I will talk no more of things disagreeable. 
 
 I am glad to hear Lady Betty Mackenzie is so amiable. I 
 have dined with her at the D. [Duke] of Argyll's, and seen 
 her several times, but she was then of an age when young 
 ladies think silence becoming in the presence of their parents. 
 Lady Mary,' hardly past her childhood, was more free, and 
 I confess was my favourite in the family. The rejoicing in 
 this town for the election of the Pope,^ who was archbishop 
 of this city, is not yet over, and have been magnificent to the 
 last degree ; the illuminations, fireworks, and assemblies, have 
 been finer than any known of many years. I have had no 
 share in them, going to bed at the hour they begun. It is re- 
 markable the present Pope" has his mother yet living at 
 Venice ; his father died only last winter. If he follows the 
 steps of his predecessor, he will be a great blessing to his do- 
 minions. I could, with pleasure to myself, enlarge on the 
 character of the deceased prelate, which was as extraordinary 
 as that of the Ozar Peter, being equally superior to the preju- 
 dices of education, but you would think me bribed by the 
 civilities I received from him. I had the honour of a most 
 obliging message by his particular order, the post before that 
 which brought the news of his death. 
 
 1 am not surprised you are not much delighted with Lady 
 Irwin's conversation; yet, on the whole, I think her better 
 than many other women ; I am persuaded there is no black- 
 ness in her heart. Lord Carlisle was the most intimate friend 
 of my father, they were near of the same age, and, if he had 
 not been dedicated to retirement, would have been one of [the] 
 D. of K.'s [Duke of Kingston's] guardians ; and I firmly be- 
 lieve would have acted in a different manner from those who 
 were entrusted, being (with all his failings) a man of great 
 honour. I was early acquainted with his daughters, and, 
 giving way to the vanity and false pretensions of Lady Irwin, 
 
 ' Lady Mary Coke. — D. 
 
 2 Upon the death of Cardinal Lambertini, Benedict XIV. — D. 
 
 ^ Cardinal Rezzonico, Bishop of Padua, was elected Pope in July, 1758. He 
 adopted the title of Clement XIII. Eezzonico was a Venetian. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 329 
 
 always lived well with her. It was possible to laugh at her, 
 but impossible to be angry with her. I never saw any malice 
 in her composition. A court life may have altered her ; but 
 when I saw her last (a few weeks before I left London), she 
 was the same as I knew her at Castle-Howard. I tire you 
 with these old wives' tales, and will put an end to my dull 
 epistle by the sincere assurance of my being 
 
 Ever your affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 
 I wish you would mention the dates of your letters. I think 
 I have received but one of three that you tell me you have 
 wrote. 
 
 I hope Mr. Mackenzie intends to pass by Venice. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Padua, Aug. 21 [1758]. 
 
 I AM much obhged to you, my dear child, for the concern 
 you express for me in yours of July 10th, which I received 
 yesterday, August 20th, but I can assure you I lose very little 
 in not being visited by the EngHsh ; boys and governors being 
 commonly (not always) the worst company in the world. I 
 am no otherways affected by it, than as it has an ill appear- 
 ance in a strange country, though hitherto I have not found 
 any bad effect from it among my Venetian acquaintance. I 
 was visited, two days ago, by my good friend Cavalier Antonio 
 Mocenigo, who came from Venice to present to me the elected 
 husband of his brother's great granddaughter, who is a noble 
 Venetian (Signor Zeno), just of age, heir to a large fortune, 
 and is one of the most agreeable figures I ever saw ; not beau- 
 tiful, but has an air of so much modesty and good sense, 
 I could easily beUeve all the good Signor Antonio said of him. 
 They came to invite me to the wedding. I could not refuse 
 such a distinction, but hope to find some excuse before the so- 
 lemnity, being unwilling to throw away money on fine clothes, 
 which are as improper for me as an embroidered pall for 
 a coffin. But I durst not mention age before my friend, 
 who told me he is eighty-six. I thought him four years 
 
330 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 younger ; he has all his senses perfect, and is as lively as a 
 man of thirty. It was very pleasing to see the affectionate 
 respect of the young man, and the fond joy that the old one 
 took in praising him. They would have persuaded me to re- 
 turn with them to Venice ; I objected that my house was not 
 ready to receive me ; Signer Antonio laughed, and asked me, 
 if I did not think he could give me an apartment (in truth it 
 was very easy, having five palaces in a row, on the great canal, 
 his own being the centre, and the others inhabited by his rela- 
 tions). I was reduced to tell a fib (God forgive me!), and 
 pretend a pain in my head ; promising to come to Venice be- 
 fore the marriage, which I really intend. They dined here ; 
 your health was the first drunk ; you may imagine I did not 
 fail to toast the bride. She is yet in a convent, but is to be 
 immediately released, and receive visits of congratulation on 
 the contract, till the celebration of the church ceremony, which 
 perhaps may not be this two months ; during which time the 
 lover makes a daily visit, and never comes without a present, 
 which custom (at least sometimes) adds to the impatience of 
 the bridegroom, and very much qualifies that of the lady. 
 You would find it hard to believe a relation of the magnifi- 
 cence, not to say extravagance, on these occasions ; indeed it 
 is the only one they are guilty of, their lives in general being 
 spent in a regular handsome economy ; the weddings and the 
 creation of a procurator being the only occasions they have of 
 displaying their wealth, which is very great in many houses, 
 particularly this of Mocenigo, of which my friend is the present 
 head. I may justly call him so, giving me proofs of an attach- 
 ment quite uncommon at London, and certainly disinterested, 
 since I can no way possibly be of use to him. I could tell you 
 some strong instances of it, if I did not remember you have 
 not time to listen to my stories, and there is scarce room on 
 my paper to assure you I am, my dear child. 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 Compliments- to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 331 
 
 TO LADY FRANCES STEUART. 
 
 [Indorsed, " Padua, September 7th, 1758 ; the first letter after leaving her at 
 Padua to go back to Tubingen."] 
 
 Padua, Sept. 4, San Massimo." 
 
 My DEAR Lady Fanjsty, — I have been some time in pain 
 for your silence, and at last begun to fear that either some ac- 
 cident had befallen you, or you had been so surfeited with my 
 dulness at Padua, you resolved not to be plagued with it when 
 at a distance. These melancholy ideas growing strong upon 
 me, I wrote to Mr. Duff to inquire after your health. I have 
 received his answer this morning ; he tells me you are both 
 well and safely arrived at Tubingen ; and I take the liberty to 
 put you in mind of one that can never forget you and the 
 cheerful hours we have passed together. The weather fa- 
 voured you according to your prayers ; since that time we 
 have had storms, tempests, pestilential blasts, and at this mo- 
 ment such suffocating heat, the doctor is sick in bed, and 
 nobody in health in my family, excepting myself and my 
 Swiss servants, who support our constitutions by hearty eat- 
 ing and drinldng, while the poor Italians are languishing on 
 their salads and lemonade. I confess I am in high spirits, 
 having succeeded in my endeavour to get a promise of assist- 
 ing some very worthy people whom I am fond of. You know 
 I am enthusiastic in my friendships. I also hear from all 
 hands of my daughter's prosperity ; youj madam, that are a 
 mother, may judge of my pleasm'e in her happiness : though 
 I have no taste for that sort of f eUcity. I could never endure 
 with tolerable patience the austerities of a court life. I was 
 saying every day from my heart (while I was condemned to 
 it), " the things that I would do, those I do not, and the things 
 I would not do, those do I daily," and I had rather be a sister 
 of St. Clara than lady of the bedchamber to aliy queen in 
 Europe. It is not age and disappointment that has given me 
 
 ' San Massimo was the name of the house which Lady Mary had taken at 
 Padua.— T. ^ 
 
332 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 these sentiments ; you may see them in a copy of verses^ sent 
 from Constantinople in my early youth to my uncle Fielding, 
 and by his (well intended) indiscretion shown about, copies 
 taken, and at length miserably printed. I own myself such 
 a rake, I prefer liberty to chains of diamonds, and when I 
 hold my peace (like K. David) it is pain and grief to me. 
 
 No fraud the poet's sacred breast can bear, 
 Mild are our manners, and our hearts sincere. 
 Rude and unpolished in the courtier's school, 
 I loathe a knave, and tremble at a fool. 
 
 With this rusticity of manners I do not wonder to see my 
 company avoided by all great men and fine ladies. I could 
 tell your ladyship such a history of my calamities since we 
 parted, you will be surprised to hear I have not despaired and 
 died like the sick lion in ^sop's fables, who so pathetically 
 cries out — Bis videor mori, when he was kicked by a certain 
 animal I will not name, because it is very like a paw word. 
 Vale! 
 
 I desire this letter (innocent as it is) may be burnt. All 
 my works are consecrated to the fire for fear of being put to 
 more ignoble uses, as their betters have been before them. I 
 beg an immediate answer. 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 [Indorsed, " Sept. 6, 1768 ; the 2nd to Tubingen from Padua."] 
 
 Sib, — On the information of Mr. Duff that you had certainly 
 wrote though I had not been so happy to receive your letter, 
 I thought (God forgive the vanity !) that perhaps I was im- 
 portant enough to have my letters stopped, and immediately 
 sent you a long scrawl without head or tail, which, I am 
 afraid, is scarce intelligible, if ever it arrives. 
 
 This day, Sept. 5th, I have had the pleasure of a most 
 agreeable and obliging mark of your remembrance ; but as it 
 has no date, I neither know when nor from whence it was 
 written. 
 
 I am extremely sorry for dear Lady Fanny's disorder. I 
 
 ' See poems. — T. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 333 
 
 could repeat to her many wise sayings of ancients and moderns, 
 which would be of as much service to her as a present of em- 
 broidered slippers to you when you have a fit of the gout. I 
 have seen so much of hysterical complaints — though Heaven 
 be praised I never felt them — I know it is an obstinate and 
 very uneasy distemper, though never fatal, unless when quacks 
 undertake to cure it. I have even observed that those who 
 are troubled with it commonly Hve to old age. Lady Stair' 
 is one instance ; I remember her screaming and crying when 
 Miss Primrose, myself, and other girls were dancing two 
 rooms distant. Lady Fanny has but a slight touch of this 
 distemper : read Dr. Sydenham, you will find the analysis of 
 that and many other diseases, with a candour I never found in 
 any other author. I confess I never had faith in any other 
 physician, living or dead. Mr. Locke places him in the same 
 rank with Sir Isaac Newton, and the Italians call him the Eng- 
 lish Hippocrsites. I own I am charmed with his taking off the 
 reproach which you men so saucily throw on our sex, as if we 
 alone were subject to vapours : he clearly proves that your 
 wise, honourable spleen is the same disorder and arises from 
 the same cause ; but you vile usurpers do not only engross 
 learning, power, and authority to yourselves, but vsdll be our 
 superiors even in constitution of mind, and fancy you are in- 
 capable of the woman's weakness of fear and tenderness. 
 Ignorance ! I could produce such examples — - 
 
 Show me tliat man of wit in all your roll, 
 Whom some one woman has not made a fool. 
 
 I beg your pardon for these verses, but I have a right to 
 scribble all that comes at my pen's end, being in high spirits on 
 an occasion more interesting to me than the election of popes 
 or emperors. His present Hohness is not much my acquaint- 
 ance, but his family have been so since my first arrival at 
 Venice, 1740. His father died only last winter, and was a 
 very agreeable worthy man, killed by a doctor ; his mother 
 
 ' Lady Eleanor Campbell, daughter of James Earl of Loudon. She married, 
 first, James Viscount Piimrose, and secondly, John second Earl of Stair, the ce- 
 lebrated general and ambassador. She died in 1759.— T. 
 
334 COERESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 rather suffered life than enjoyed it after the death of her hus- 
 band, and was Httle sensible of the advancement of her son, 
 though I believe it made a greater impression on her than ap- 
 peared, and, it may be, hastened her death ; which happened 
 a fortnight after his elevation, in the midst of the extraordi- 
 nary rejoicings at Venice on that occasion. The honours 
 bestowed on his brother, the balls, festivals, &c., are they not 
 written in the daily books called newspapers ? 
 
 I resisted all invitations, and am still at Padua, where read- 
 ing, writing, riding, and walking find me full employment. 
 
 I accept the compliments of the fine young gentleman vnth 
 the joy of an old woman who does not expect to be taken 
 notice of : pray don't tell him I am an old woman. He shall 
 be my toast from this forward, and (provided he never sees 
 me as long as he lives) I may be his. A propos of toasting, 
 upon my honour I have not tasted a drop of punch since we 
 parted ; I cannot bear the sight of it ; it would recal too 
 tender ideas, and I should be quarrelling with Fortune for our 
 separation, when I ought to thank her divinity for having 
 brought us together. I could tell a long story of princes and 
 potentates, but I am so little versed in state affairs I will not 
 so much as answer your ensnaring question concerning the 
 Jesuits, which is meddling at once with church and state. 
 
 This letter is of a horrible length, and, what is worse (if any 
 worse can be), such a rhapsody of nonsense, as may kill poor 
 Lady Fanny now she is low-spirited, though I am persuaded 
 she has good nature enough to be glad to hear I am happy : 
 which I could not be, if I had not a view of seeing my friends 
 so. As to you, sir, I make no excuses ; you are bound to have 
 indulgence for me, as for a sister of the quill. I have heard 
 Mr. Addison say he always listened to poets with patience, to 
 keep up the dignity of the fraternity. Let me have an 
 answer as soon as possible. Si vales, bene est : valeo. 
 
 P.S. Do not be offended at the word poet, it slipped out 
 unawares. I know you scorn it, though it has been dignified 
 by Lord Somers, Lord Godolphin, and Dr. Atterbury. 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHEKS. 335 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Padua, Sept. 6 [1758]. 
 
 I WEOTB to yoTi very lately, my dear child, in answer to 
 that letter Mr. Hamilton brought me : he was so obliging to 
 come on purpose from Venice to deliver it, as I believe I told 
 you ; but I am so highly delighted with this, dated August 4, 
 giving an account of your little colony, I cannot help setting 
 pen to paper, to tell you the melancholy joy I had in reading 
 it. You would have laughed to see the old fool weep over it. 
 I now find that age, when it does not harden the heart and 
 sour the temper, naturally returns to the milky disposition of 
 infancy. Time has the same effect on the mind as on the 
 face. The predominant passion, the strongest feature, become 
 more conspicuous from the others retiring ; the various views 
 of life are abandoned, from want of ability to pursue them, 
 as the fine complexion is lost in wrinkles ; but, as surely as a 
 large nose grows larger, and a wide mouth wider, the tender 
 child in your nursery will be a tender old woman, though, 
 perhaps, reason may have restrained the appearance of it, till 
 the mind, relaxed, is no longer capable of cjincealing its weak- 
 ness ; for weakness it is to indulge any attachment at a period 
 of life when we are sure to part with life itself, at a very short 
 warning. According to the good English proverb, young 
 people may die, but old must. You see I am very industrious 
 in finding comfort to myself in my exile, and to guard, as long 
 as I can, against the peevishness which makes age miserable in 
 itself and contemptible to others. 'Tis surprising to me, that, 
 with the most inoffensive conduct, I should meet enemies, 
 when I cannot be envied for anything, and have pretensions to 
 nothing. 
 
 Is it possible the old Colonel Duncombe' I knew should be 
 Lord Feversham, and married to a young wife ? As to Lord 
 Ranelagh, I confess it must be a very bitter draught to submit 
 
 ' Anthony Duncombe, created Lord Feversham, 1747 ; which title became ex- 
 tinct in 1763, on his dying without male issue. He was the nephew of Sir Charles 
 Duncombe, Lord Mayor of London, 1709. — W. 
 
336 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 to take his name, but his lady' has had a short purgatory, and 
 now enjoys affluence with a man she likes, and who I am told 
 is a man of merit, which I suppose she thinks preferable to 
 Lady Selina's nursery. Here are no old people in this country, 
 neither in dress or gallantry. I know only my friend Antonio, 
 who is true to the memory of his adored lady : her picture is 
 always in his sight, and he talks of her in the style of pastor 
 fido. I beUeve I owe his favour to having shown him her 
 miniature, by Rosalba, which I bought at London : perhaps 
 you remember it in my little collection : he is really a man 
 of worth and sense. Hearing it reported, I need not say 
 by whom, that my retirement was owing to having lost all my 
 money at play at Avignon, he sent privately for my chief 
 servant, and desired him to tell him naturally if I was in any 
 distress ; and not only offered, but pressed, him to lay three 
 thousand sequins on my toilet. I don't believe I could borrow 
 that sum, without good security, among my great relations. I 
 thank God I had no occasion to make use of this generosity ; 
 but I am sure you will agree with me, that I ought never to 
 forget the obligation. I could give some other instances in 
 which he has shown his friendship, in protecting me from 
 mortifications, invented by those that ought to have assisted 
 me ; but 'tis a long, tiresome story. You wiU be surprised to 
 hear the general does not yet know these circumstances ; he 
 arrived at Venice but few days before I left it ; and pro- 
 mising me to come to Padua, at the fair, I thought I should 
 have time sufficient to tell him my history. Indeed, I was in 
 hopes he would have accepted my invitation of lodging in my 
 house; but his multiplicity of affairs hindered him from 
 coming at all, and 'tis only a few days since that he made me 
 a visit, in company with Mr. Hamilton, before whom I did 
 not think it proper to speak my complaints. They are now 
 gone to drink the waters at Vicenza : when they return, I 
 intend moving to Venice, and then shall relate my grievances, 
 
 • Selina, eldest daughter of Peter Bathurst, Esq., by the Lady Selina Shirley. 
 She married, first, in 1748, Arthur Cole Lord Eanelagh, of the kingdom of Ire- 
 land, who died October 6, 1754 5 and secondly, on the 13th of November, 1755, 
 Sir John Elwill, Bart.— T. 
 
MR. WORTLET MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 337 
 
 which I have more reason to do than ever. I have tired you 
 with this disagreeable subject : I vrill release you, and please 
 myself in repeating the assurance of my being ever, while I 
 have a being, your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My dear child, do not think of reversing nature by making 
 me presents. I would send you all my jewels and my toilet, 
 if I knew how to convey them, though they are in some mea- 
 sure necessary in this country, where it would be, perhaps, re- 
 ported I had pawned them, if they did not sometimes make 
 their appearance. I know not how to send commissions for 
 things I never saw ; nothing of price I would have, as I would 
 not new furnish an inn I was on the point of leaving ; such is 
 this world to me. Though china is in such high estimation 
 here, I have sometimes an inclination to desire your father to 
 send me the two large jars that stood in the windows in 
 Cavendish-square. I am sure he don't value them, and be- 
 lieve they would be of no use to you. I bought them at an 
 auction, for two guineas, before the D. of Argyll's example 
 had made all china, more or less, fashionable. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to our dear 
 children. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 Padua, Sept. 16 [1758]. 
 
 I AM informed that your health and sight are perfectly 
 good, which gives me courage to trouble you with a letter of 
 congratulation on a blessing that is equal to us both : I mean 
 the great and good character I hear from everybody of Lord 
 Bute. It is a satisfaction I never hoped, to have a son that 
 does honour to his family. I am persuaded you are of my 
 opinion, and had rather be related to him than to any silly 
 duke in Christendom. Indeed, money (however considerable 
 the sum) in the hands of a fool is as useless as if presented to 
 a monkey," and will as surely be scattered in the street. I need 
 not quote examples. My daughter is also generally esteemed, 
 and I cannot help communicating to you the pleasure I receive 
 whenever I hear her commended. I am afraid my letter is 
 
 VOL. II. 1 
 
338 COKEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 too long. This subject runs away with me. I wish you many 
 years' continuance of the health and spirits I am told you now 
 enjoy. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Oct. 1, N.S. [1758]. 
 
 I HAVE wrote five letters to my dear child, of which you 
 have not acknowledged the receipt. I fear some, if not all 
 of them, have miscarried, which may be attributed to Sir J. 
 Gray's leaving Venice. You must now direct, alas ! " Recom- 
 mand(5 a Mon' Smith, Consul de S. M. B." 
 
 The first of those letters I mention spoke of Lord K. ; the 
 second had a story of L. pLady] O. ; the third answered yours 
 relating to Miss Gunnings ; the fourth gave an account of 
 our cardinal ; and the last enclosed a note upon Child. You 
 need not excuse to me taking notice of your carpet. I think 
 you have great reason to value yourself on the performance, 
 but will have better luck than I have had, if you can persuade 
 anybody else to do so. I could never get people to believe 
 that I set a stitch, when I worked six hours in a day. You 
 will confess my employments much more trifling than yours, 
 when I own to you (between you and I) that my chief amuse- 
 ment is writing the history of my own time. It has been 
 my fortune to have a more exact knowledge both of the 
 persons and facts that have made the greatest figure in Eng- 
 land in this age, than is common ; and I take pleasure in 
 putting together what I know, with an impartiality that is 
 altogether unusual. Distance of time and place has totally 
 blotted from my mind all traces either of resentment or pre- 
 judice ; and I speak with the same indifference of the court of 
 G. B. as I should do of that of Augustus Caesar. I hope 
 you have not so ill opinion of me to think I am turning author 
 in my old age. I can assure you I regularly bum every quire 
 as soon as it is finished ; and mean nothing more than to divert 
 my solitary hours. I know mankind too well to think they 
 are capable of receiving truth, much less of applauding it : 
 or, were it otherwise, applause to me is as insignificant as gar-' 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND 0THEE3. 339 
 
 lands on the dead. I have no concern beyond my own family ; 
 but your father's silence gives me great pain. I have not 
 heard from him since last April. Let me know the reason of 
 it, and write as often as you can to your most affectionate 
 mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Venice, Oct. 3 [1768]. 
 
 My dear Child, — I am under a sort of necessity of trou- 
 bling you with an impertinent letter. Three fine ladies (I 
 should say four, including the Signora Madre) set out for 
 London a few days ago. As they have no acquaintance there, 
 I think it very possible (knowing their assurance) that some 
 of them may try to make some by visiting you', perhaps in 
 my name. Upon my word I never saw them except in pubHc 
 and at the resident's, who, being one of their numerous pas- 
 sionate admirers, obliged his wife to receive them. The father's, 
 name was Wynn. Some say he had 1200?. per annum, others 
 2000Z. He came several years since to Venice to dissipate his 
 afBiction for the loss of his lady. He was introduced by his 
 Gondolier (who are as industrious as the drawers at London) 
 to this Greek, who I believe was then remarkably handsome, 
 having stiU great remains of beauty. He liked her well 
 enough to take her into keeping, and had three daughters by 
 her, before her artifices prevailed on him to marry her. Since 
 that she produced two boys. ]\Ir. W. died here, leaving all his 
 children infants. He left the girls 1500Z. each. The mother 
 carried them all to England, I suppose being told it was ne- 
 cessary to prove her marriage. She stayed there one year, but 
 being tired of the place, where she knew nobody, nor one word 
 of the language, she returned hither, where she has flourished 
 exceedingly, and receives the homage of all the young feUows 
 in the town, strangers and natives. They kept a constant as- 
 sembly, but had no female visitors of any distinction. The 
 eldest daughter speaks English. I have said enough of them 
 to hinder your being deceived by them, but should have said 
 
 z2 
 
340 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 much more, if you had been at Caenwood, in full leisure to 
 read novels. The story deserves the pen of my dear Smollett, 
 who, I am sorry, disgraces his talent by writing those stupid 
 romances commonly called history. Shebbeare does yet worse,^ 
 and dabbles in filthy politics, instead of making more Lydias 
 for my entertainment. Lord Brudenell has been here a fort- 
 night, and been several times to see me. He has a general 
 good character, and some resemblance of [the Duchess of] 
 Montagu. 
 
 I am sorry your father has parted with Twickenham. I am 
 afraid 'tis with an intention of passing much of his time at a 
 distance from London. I wish, both for his sake and yours, 
 he was often with you. 
 
 General Graham and Colonel Hamilton (who always toasts 
 Lady Anne Stuart) dined with me yesterday. I am ever, my 
 dearest chUd, your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 
 TO LADY FRANCES STEUART. 
 [Indorsed, " From Venice, Oct. 5th."] [1758.] 
 
 I AM exceedingly delighted, my dear Lady Fanny, to hear 
 of the recovery of your health and spirits : if my prayers or 
 endeavours prevail, you will never have anything to displease 
 you ; 'tis the height of my ambition to serve my friends, and 
 their number is so very small, I may hope to succeed without 
 aiming at any great degree of power. My daughter shall be 
 informed of your favourable opinion ; she has already all the 
 esteem for your ladyship that your merit exacts from all that 
 know you. Alas, madam ! you talk at your ease of two or 
 three years hence ; I hardly extend my views to so many 
 weeks, and cannot flatter myself with the hope of seeing you 
 
 ' Shebbeare was prosecuted for writing a political pamphlet called Letters to 
 the People of England in 1759, and found guilty. Wben in the pillory at 
 Charing- cross, a footman stood beside him holding an umbrella over him. 
 Having caused handbills to be circulated among the populace inviting them to see 
 the British champion of liberty of the press in the pillory, he was received by the 
 people with loud cheers. The under-sheriff was subsequently punished for having 
 allowed him to stand upon, instead of in, the pillory.. — T. 
 
ME. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 341 
 
 again : I have not your satisfaction less at heart, and am per- 
 suaded that I shall be [have t] succeeded in my desire to serve 
 you when I shall no longer be capable of giving thanks for it. 
 I am very sorry for Lord Garlies's loss of his brother ;• and 
 heartily wish seven or eight more might arise from his ashes. 
 
 The magnificent rejoicings for the Pope's elevation are not 
 yet over : there was last night very fine fireworks before the 
 Palace Rezzonico : I suppose the newspapers have given an 
 account of the regatta, &c. You may be sure I have very 
 little share in the night diversions, which generally begin at 
 the hour I undress for bed. Here are few English this car 
 nival, and those few extremely engaged in parties of pleasure, 
 which, ten to one, they will never forget to their dying 
 
 day. Permit me, dear madam, to address myself to Sir 
 
 James. I can assure you, sir, I am sincerely grieved at the 
 return of your disorder. You would think me too interested 
 if I reconmiended a warm climate. I confess self-love will 
 mix even imperceptibly in all oiir sentiments, yet I verily 
 believe a northern air cannot be good either for you or Lord 
 Marischal.^ I am very much obHged to him for remember- 
 ing a useless friend and servant : my good wishes, with a 
 grateful sense of his civilities, always attend him. I expect 
 with impatience the present you have promised me ; it would 
 have been always agreeable, but is particularly so now, when 
 I am in a great town almost as solitary as in a desert. All 
 my pleasures are recollections of those past; there are (I 
 think) some refined metaphysicians that assert they are the 
 only realities. I agree they are highly pleasing, with a dash 
 of hope to enliven them ; but in my melancholy case, when 
 all my prospects are as bounded as those from a window 
 
 against a dead wall 1 wUl not go on in this dismal strain. 
 
 I wish the post would suffer me to entei-tain you with some 
 ridiculous farces exhibited by my loving countrymen ; even 
 that is denied me from prudential considerations. Nothing 
 
 • The Honourable George Stewart, son of the sixth Earl of Galloway, was tilled 
 at Ticonderago in 1768. — W. 
 
 ''■ George tenth Earl Marischal, bom in 1693, served under the Great Frederic, 
 and died at Potsdam, May 28, 1778.— W. 
 
342 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 can hinder my being to my last moment faithfully attached 
 to Lady Frances and yourself. 
 
 TO SIE JAMES STEUAET. 
 
 Venice, Oct. 13, 1759' [1768]. 
 
 You have made (what I did not think possible) writing to 
 you uneasy to me. After confessing that you barbarously 
 criticise on my letters, I have much ado to summon up cou- 
 rage enough to set pen to paper. Can you answer this to 
 your conscience, to sit gravely and maliciously to examine 
 lines written with rapidity and sent without reading over? 
 This is worse tlian surprising a fine lady just sat down to the 
 toilet : I am content to let you see my mind undressed, but I 
 will not have you so . curiously remark the defects in it. To 
 carry on the sinule, when a beauty appears with aU her graces 
 and airs adorned for a ball, it is lawful to censure whatever 
 you see amiss in her ornaments ; but when you are received 
 to a friendly breakfast, 'tis downright cruelty or (something 
 worse) ingratitude to view too nicely all the disorder you may 
 see. I desire you would sink the critic in the friend, and 
 never forget that I do not write to you and dear Lady Fanny 
 from my head but from my heart. I wish her joy on the con- 
 tinuance of her taste for punch, but I am sure she will agree 
 with me that the zest of good company is very necessary to 
 give it a flavour : to her it is a vivifying nectar, to me it would 
 be insipid river-water, and chiU the spirits it should raise, by 
 reflecting on the cheerful moments we once passed together, 
 which can no more return. This thought is so very disagree- 
 able, I wiU put it as far from me as possible. My chief study 
 all my hfe has been to lighten misfortunes, and multiply plea- 
 sures, as far as human nature can : when I have nothing to 
 find in myself from which I can extract any Idnd of dehght, I 
 think on the happiness of my friends, and rejoice in the joy 
 with which you converse together, and look on the beautiful 
 young plant from which you may so reasonably expect honour 
 
 > The year appears to have been affixed to some of the letters to Sir J. and Lady 
 F. Steuart conjecturally. In this and other instances I have ventured to transpose 
 them.— T. 
 
MR. WORTLET MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 343 
 
 and felicity. In other days I think over the comic scenes that 
 axe daily exhibited on the great stage of the world for my en- 
 tertainment. I am charmed with the account of the Mora- 
 vians, who certainly exceed all mankind in absurdity of prin- 
 ciples and madness of practice ; yet these people walk erect, 
 and are numbered amongst rational beings. I imagined after 
 three thousand years' working at creeds and theological whim- 
 sies, there remained nothing new to be invented; I see the 
 fund is inexhaustible, and we may say of folly what Horace 
 has said of vice : 
 
 "jEtas pareutum, pejor avis, tulit 
 No3 nequiores, mox daturoa 
 Progeniam vitiosiorem." 
 
 I will not ask pardon for this quotation ; it is God's mercy I 
 did not put it into English : when one is haunted (as I am) by 
 the Demon of Poesie, it must come out in one shape or 
 another, and you will own that nobody shows it to more 
 advantage than the author I have mentioned. Adieu, sir. 
 Read with candour ; forgive what you can't excuse, in favour 
 of the real esteem and affection with which I am Lady Fanny's 
 and your most humble servant. 
 
 Permit my compliments to Mr. Steuart. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 [Oct. 31, 1758.] 
 
 My dear Child, — I received yours of Oct. 2nd this day, 
 the 31st instant. The death of the two great ladies you men- 
 tion, I believe does not occasion much sorrow ; they have long 
 been burthens (not to say nuisances) on the face of the earth. 
 I am sorry for Lord Carlisle.^ He was my friend as well as 
 acquaintance, and a man of uncommon probity and good 
 nature. I think he has showed it by the disposition of his 
 will in the favour of a lady he had no reason to esteem. It 
 is certainly the kindest thing he could do for her, to endeavour 
 to save her from her own foUy, which Would have probably 
 precipitately hurried her into a second marriage, which would 
 most surely have revenged all her misdemeanors. 
 
 ' He died September 4, 1758.— D. 
 
344 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 I was well acquainted with Mr. Walpole at Florence, and 
 indeed he was particularly civil to me. I have great encou- 
 ragement to ask a favour of him, if I did not know that few 
 people have so good memories to remember so many years 
 backwards as have passed since I have seen him. If he has 
 treated the character of Queen Ehzabeth with disrespect, all 
 the ■wt>men should tear him to pieces, for abusing the glory of 
 their sex.^ Neither is it just to put her in the list of authors, 
 having never published anything, though we have Mr. Cam- 
 den's authority that she wrote many valuable pieces, chiefly 
 Greek translations. I wish all monarchs would bestow their 
 leisure hours on such studies : perhaps they would not be very 
 useful to mankind ; but it may be asserted, for a certain truth, 
 their own minds would be more improved than by the amuse- 
 ments of Quadrille or Cavagnole. 
 
 I desire you would thank your father for the china Jars ; if 
 they arrive safe, they will do me great honour in this country. 
 The Patriarch died here a few days ago. He had a large 
 temporal estate ; and, by long life and extreme parsimony, has 
 left four hundred thousand sequins in his coffers, which is in- 
 herited by two nephews ; and I suppose will be dissipated as 
 scandalously as it has been accumulated. The town is at 
 present full of factions, for the election of his successor : the 
 ladies are always very active on these occasions. I have ob- 
 served that they ever have more influence in republics than 
 [in a] monarchy. 'Tis true, a king has often a powerful mis- 
 tress, but she is governed by some male favourite. In common- 
 wealths, votes are easily acquired by the fair ; and she, who 
 has most beauty or art, has a great sway in the senate. I run 
 on troubling you with stories very insignificant to you, and 
 taking up your time, which I am sensible is fully employed 
 in matters of more importance than my old wives' tales. My 
 dear child, God bless you and yours. I am, with the warmest 
 sentiments of my heart, your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to my grand- 
 children. 
 
 • Alluding to the character of Queen Elizabeth, in his Royal and Noble Au- 
 thors.— D. 
 
MR. WOKTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 345 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Venice, Nov. 8 [1758]. 
 
 Mt dear Child, — You are extremely good to take so 
 much care of my trifling coramissions in the midst of so many 
 important occupations. You judged very right on the subject 
 of Mr. W. [Horace Walpole]. I saw him often both at 
 Florence and Genoa, and you may believe I know him. I 
 am not surprised at the character of poor Ch. Fielding's son.' 
 The epithet of fair and foolish belonged to the whole family ; 
 and, as he was over persuaded to marry an ugly woman, I 
 suppose his offspring may have lost the beauty, and retained 
 the folly in full bloom. Colonel Otway, younger brother to 
 Lady Bridget's'' spouse, came hither with Lord Mandeville ; 
 he told me that she has a daughter with the perfect figure of 
 Lady Winchilsea. I wish she may meet with as good friends 
 as I was to her aunt; but I won't trouble you with old 
 stories. I have, indeed, my head so full of one new one, that 
 I hardly know what I say : I am advised to tell it you, though 
 I had resolved not to do it. I leave it to your prudence to 
 act as you think proper; commonly speaking, silence and 
 neglect is the best answer to defamation, but this is a case so 
 peculiar, that I am persuaded it never happened to any one 
 but myself. 
 
 Some few months before Lord W. Hamilton married,^ 
 there appeared a foolish song, said to be wrote by a poetical 
 great lady, who I really think was the character of Lady 
 Arabella, in the Female Quixote (without the beauty) : you 
 may imagine such a conduct; at court, made her superlatively 
 ridiculous. Lady Delawarr,'' a woman of great merit, with 
 whom I lived ia much intimacy, showed this fine performance 
 
 ' Charles Fielding was the third son of Basil fourth Earl of Denbigh. He mar- 
 ried Mary, daughter of Sir Thomas Palmer, of Wingham, in Kent, Bart., -widow 
 of Sir Brook Brydges, Bart. — W. 
 
 ^ Lady Bridget was second daughter of Basil fourth Earl of Denbigh ; married 
 to James Otway, Esq., of the county of Kent. — W. 
 
 ^ Second son of James fourth Duke of Hamilton, and the first husband of the 
 notorious Lady Vaoe.— T. 
 
 * Probably Margaret, daughter and heir of John Freeman, of the city of London, 
 merchant, wife of John the sixth Lord Delawarr, and mother of John the first earl : 
 she died in 1738.— W. 
 
346 COEKESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 to me ; we were very merry in supposing wliat answer Lord 
 William would make to these passionate addresses ; she begged 
 me to say something for a poor man, who had nothing to say 
 for himself. I wrote, extempore, on the back of the song, 
 some stanzas that went perfectly well to the tune. She pro- 
 mised they should never appear as mine, and faithfully kept 
 her word. By what accident they have fallen into the hands 
 of that thing Dodsley, I know not, but he has printed them 
 as addressed, by me, to a very contemptible puppy, and my 
 own words as his answer.^ I do not beheve either Job or 
 Socrates ever had such a provocation. You will tell me, it 
 cannot hurt me with any acquaintance I ever had : it is true ; 
 but it is an excellent piece of scandal for the same sort of 
 people that propagate, with success, that your nurse left her 
 estate, husband, and family, to go with me to England ; and, 
 then I turned her to starve, after defrauding her of God 
 knows what. I thank God witches are out of fashion, or I 
 should expect to have it deposed, by several credible witnesses? 
 that I had been seen flying through the air on a broomstick,. 
 &c. 
 
 I am really sick with vexation, but ever your most affec- 
 tionate mother. 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUAET. 
 
 [Indorsed by Lady Frances Steuart, " Venice, where we made acquaintance with 
 her ladyship."] 
 
 [Nov. 14, 1758.] 
 
 This letter wiU be solely to you, and I desire you wiU not 
 communicate it to Lady Fanny : she is the best woman in the 
 world, and I would by no means make her uneasy ; but there 
 will be such strange things in it that the Talmud or the Re- 
 velations are not half so mysterious : what these prodigies por- 
 tend, God knows ; but. I never should have suspected half the 
 wonders I see before my eyes, and am convinced of the neces- 
 
 1 Dodsley's Collection of Poems was published in three volumes in 1748. The 
 fourth volume appeared in 1749, and the fifth and sixth in 1766. In the sixth 
 volume, p. 230, the dialogic (if it may be so called) between Sir WilUam Yonge 
 and Lady Mary is printed, and Very erroneously applied. — D. 
 
MR. WOETLET MONTAGU Ai^D OTHERS. 347 
 
 sity of the repeal of the witch act (as it is commonly called), 
 I mean, to speak correctly, the tacit permission given to 
 witches, so scandalous to all good Christians : though I 
 tremble to think of it for my own interests. It is certain the 
 British islands have always been strangely addicted to this 
 diaboUcal intercourse, of which I dare swear you know many 
 instances ; but since this public encouragement given to it, I 
 am afraid there will not be an old woman in the nation en- 
 tirely free from suspicion. The devil rages more powerfully 
 than ever : you will believe me, when I assure you the great 
 and learned English minister is turned methodist, several 
 duels have been fought in the Place of St. Marc for the 
 charms of his excellent lady, and I have been seen flying in 
 the air in the figure of Julian Cox,' whose history is related 
 with so much candour and truth by the pious pen of Joseph 
 GlanviLle, chaplain to K. Charles. I know you young rakes 
 make a jest' of all those things, but I think no good lady can 
 doubt of a relation so well attested. She was about seventy 
 years old (very near my age), and the whole sworn to before 
 Judge Archer, 1663 : very well worth reading, but rather too 
 long for a letter. You know (wretch that I am) 'tis one of 
 my wicked maxims to make the best of a bad bargain ; and I 
 have said publicly that every period of life has its privileges, 
 and that even the most despicable creattu^es alive may find 
 some pleasures. Now observe this comment ; who are the 
 most despicable creatures ? Certainly, old women. YThat 
 pleasure can an old woman take ? Only witchcraft. I think 
 this argument as clear as any of the devout Bishop of Gloyne's 
 metaphysics: this being decided in a full congregation of 
 saints, only such atheists as you and Lady Fanny can deny it. 
 . I own all the facts, as many witches have done before me, and 
 go every night in a pubhc manner astride upon a black cat to 
 a meeting where you are suspected to appear : this last article 
 is not sworn to, it being doubtful in what manner our clan- 
 
 ' In one of her letters to Lady Bute she dwells on the same idea. [See pre- 
 vious letter.] All this must allude in some way to her quarrel with Mr. Murray, 
 the resident, and to the reports which she accused him of spreading concerning 
 her.— W. 
 
348 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 destine midnight correspondence is carried on. Some think it 
 treasonable, others lewd (don't tell Lady Fanny); but all 
 agree there was something very odd and imaccountable in 
 such sudden likings. I confess, as I said before, it is witch- 
 craft. You won't wonder I do not sign (notwithstanding all 
 my impudence) such dangeroiis truths : who knows the con- 
 sequence ? The devil is said to desert his votaries. 
 
 P.S. Fribourg,^ who you inquire after so kindly, is turned 
 heau gargon, and actually kept by the finest lady in Venice ; 
 Doctor Moxo^ robs on the highway, and Antonio sings at the 
 opera. Would you desire better witchcraft? This to be 
 continued. 
 
 Nota bene. You have dispossessed me of the real devils who 
 haunted me. I mean the nine Muses.^ 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 [Indorsed, " 4th letter from Venice to Tubingen."] 
 
 Nov. 27, 1759 [1758]. 
 
 1 FLATTER myself my last rhapsody has revenged me of all 
 your criticisms and railleries (however finely spread). I defy 
 you to decipher the true meaning, yet it is truth at the bottom ; 
 but not to teaze you too much with the marvellous adventures 
 of a town with which you are yet little acquainted, and per- 
 haps not very curious to examine, at least that part of it called 
 — Gli forestieri e ministri dei Grandi — Basti. I read the 
 news of the D. of Marlbro's death with all the sentiments of 
 a true Briton touched with the misfortunes of his country.* I 
 
 ' Fribourg was a niclaiame of a servant of Lady Mary's, whose proper name 
 appears to have been Jean Francois Greraaud. — T. 
 
 2 Probably a mistake for Mora, Doctor Julio Bartolomeo Mora seems to have 
 been employed by Lady Mary as an amanuensis while in Italy, and he accom- 
 panied her to England. He was probably the " secretary" to whom Horace Wal- 
 pole alludes in his letter describing his visit to Lady Mary after her return. Lady 
 Mary left a small legacy to Doctor Mora, whom she mentions in the wUl as having 
 " faithfully served me seven years." — T. 
 
 ' It seems almost needless to observe that this letter is written in a spirit of 
 jesting, or, to use a lower word, of fun. Antonio, or Signer Antonio Mocenigo, 
 being mentioned elsewhere as eighty-six years of age, and the head of a great Ve- 
 netian family, we may conclude that what is said of the two other persons named 
 was as ludicrously impossible as his singing at the opera. — W. 
 
 * Charles Spencer, Duke of Marlborough, was the second son of Lady Sunder- 
 land. He succeeded to the title of the Earl of Sunderland on the death of his 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 349 
 
 confess the -writer of the EngUsh newspaper (which I have 
 seen by making interest with the secretary of his excellency) 
 has taken all laudable pains to soften the affliction of his 
 readers, by making such a panegyric as would force a smile 
 from HeracUtus himself ; he assures us that his dowager and 
 children have cried bitterly, and that both his sons-in-law and 
 many other people of the first quality will wear mourning on 
 this sad occasion. Had I been worthy to have been consulted 
 by this well-pensioned author, I wotdd have added with great 
 truth that more sincere tears have been shed for his loss, than 
 for all the heroes departed for this last century ; God knows 
 how many breaking tradespeople and honest scriveners and 
 usurers are breaking their hearts for this untimely fall. 
 
 They may be false who languish and complain, 
 But they who sigli for money never feign. 
 
 I beg pardon for this verse, but the subject is too elevated 
 for prose : I dare swear there are at least fifty elegies (besides 
 the bellman's) already presented to his wretched consort and 
 mourning heir. The younger sons, I am sure, grieve from 
 their souls, unless their brother will generously, I don't say 
 promise (a promise is cold comfort), solidly settle such a pro- 
 vision as he is no way obUged to, and may possibly forget. 
 
 I adore the conduct of the heroic countess ; her amuse- 
 ments are worthy the generosity of a great soul ; she knows 
 how to put men to the right use : 
 
 Their thanks she neither asks nor needs, 
 
 For all the favours done ; 
 From her love flows, as light proceeds 
 
 Spontaneous from the s\in. 
 
 If I really was so sldlled in magic as I am generally sup- 
 posed, I would immediately follow her footsteps in the figure 
 of fair fifteen, acknowledge the errors of my past life, and 
 
 elder brother Robert, and to the dukedom of Marlborough upon that of his aunt 
 Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough, whose only son. Lord Blandford, died before 
 her. The duke's profuseness and carelessness of his affairs were remarkable ; but 
 Lady Mary "Wortley might perhaps be the more severe upon him, because he had 
 been at open war with her old friend, his grandmother, the Duchess Sarah, some 
 of whose prejudices she allowed to influence her opinions. — W. The duke died 20th 
 of October, 1758, at Munster, in Westphalia. — T. 
 
350 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 beg her instructions how to behave to that tyrannical sex, who 
 with absurd cruelty first put the invaluable deposit of their 
 precious honour in our hands, and then oblige us to prove a 
 negative for the preservation of it. I hate mankind with all 
 the fury of an old maid (indeed most women of my age do), 
 and have no real esteem but for those heroines who give them 
 as good as they bring. 
 
 I have serious thoughts of coming to Tubingen this spring. 
 I shall have the pleasure of seeing friends I truly esteem, and 
 enjoying conversation that I both respect and love. Beside 
 the advantage of being casually admitted in the train of 
 Madame de B.,'^ nee 0. I confess I don't deserve it after the 
 stupid English way in which I received her advances ; I own 
 my sins of omission, but am a true convert to her merit, for 
 reasons that I believe you will think good if I am so happy to 
 
 see you again. This minute brings me a long letter from 
 
 my little gentlewoman at court. She gives me such an ac- 
 count of the late D. of Marlborough's affairs, as takes away 
 all doubt of his well-being in the next world. He is certainly 
 eminently distinguished amongst the babes and sucklings : to 
 say truth, I never could perceive (though I was weU ac- 
 quainted with him) that he had the least tincture of the 
 original sin ; you know that was the distinction of good and 
 evil, of Avhich whole crowds are entirely clear, and it has been 
 water thrown away to christen them. I have been tempted 
 formerly to turn Quaker on this sole argument. 
 
 I am extremely sorry for any affliction that has befallen 
 Lord M. [Marischal f] ; both he and myself have had disap- 
 pointments enough in life to be hardened against most sensa- 
 tions : I own the loss of a beloved deserving friend is the 
 hardest trial of philosophy. But we are soon to lose ourselves ; 
 a melancholy consolation, yet not so melancholy as it may ap- 
 pear to people who have more extensive views in prospect. 
 
 Dear Lady Fanny, this letter is to you both, designed to 
 make you smile, laugh if you will ; but be so just as to be- 
 lieve me, with warm affection and sincere esteem. 
 
 Ever yours. 
 
 ' Madame de Socage,' a French lady. — T. 
 
MR. WOKTLET MONTAGU AND OTHEKS. 351 
 
 N.B. You are obliged to me for the shortness of this epistle : 
 when I -write to you, I could write all day with pleasure, but 
 I will not indulge even a pleasure at the expense of giving 
 you trouble. If my paper and your patience was not at an 
 end, I would say something to Mr. Steuart. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Dec. 5, 1758. 
 
 My DEAR Child, — ^I have now been two posts without an- 
 swering yours of Nov. 6th, having my head too muddled to 
 write (don't laugh at me if you can help it), but it really has 
 been occasioned by the vexation arising from the impudence 
 of Dodsley, whom I never saw, and never mentioned or thought 
 of in my Ufe. I know you will tell me that in my situation I 
 ought to be as indifferent to what is said of me at London 
 
 as in Pekin ; but 1 will talk no more on this disagreeable 
 
 subject. 
 
 The fine ladies I spoke of, I hear, are at Paris, and perhaps 
 may find reasons for staying there. We have lately a very 
 agreeable English family here, a Mr. Wright, many of whose 
 relations I know and esteem in England. His lady is niece to 
 Lord Westmoreland. She is a very pretty, sensible young 
 woman. The union between her and her spouse put me in 
 mind of yours with Lord Bute. They have been stopped here 
 by her lying-in, unfortunately, of a dead child ; but are pre- 
 paring for Rome and Naples ; and from thence design to 
 return home. I think I may recommend her acquaintance to 
 you, as one'that you will be pleased with, and need not fear 
 repenting. Their conversation is the greatest pleasure I have 
 here. I have reason to applaud their good nature, who seem 
 to forget I am an old woman ; the tour they propose is so long 
 you may probably not see them this two years. I am told 
 Mr. Mackenzie is arrived at Turin with Lady Betty. I wish 
 heartily to see them, but am afraid it is impossible. They 
 cannot quit that capital, and the journey is too long for me to 
 midertake. Neither do I desire to visit a town where I have 
 so many acquaintance, and have been so well received. I 
 could not decently refuse civiHties that would draw me into a 
 
352 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 , crowd as displeasing to me at present, as it would have been 
 delightful at fifteen. Indeed, there is no great city so proper 
 for the retreat of old age as Venice ; where we have not the 
 embarras of a court, no devoirs to force us into public ; and 
 yet (which you will think extraordinary) we may appear there 
 without being ridiculous. This is. a privilege I do not often 
 make use of, but am not sorry to have it in my power to hear 
 an opera without the mortification of showing a wrinkled 
 face. 
 
 I hope you wiU not, forget to send me the bill of loading, 
 without which I run a risk of losing whatever is sent by sea. 
 I am very fond of the jars, which I look upon as a present 
 from your father. I am ever, my dearest child. 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My blessing to all yotirs, and compliments to Lord Bute. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 ' - ■ , • . December 31, 1759 [1758]. 
 
 My dear Child, — ^I .am very sorry for the pain you 
 have suffered from Lady Jane's indisposition. That distem- 
 per is seldom fatal, to .children or very yoilng people. I have 
 sometimes known it- to be so to grown persons. I hope you 
 take all proper care to preserve yourself. The young Earl of 
 Northampton is now at Florence, and was here the last year. 
 He is lively and good natured, with what is called a pretty 
 figure. I believe he is of a humour likely to marry the first 
 agreeable girl he gets acquainted with at London.^ I send 
 this by a gentleman who is just returned from making a very 
 extraordinary journey. I dined with him yesterday at Gene- 
 ral Graham's. He is a sensible man, and gives a good account 
 of his voyage, of which he has drawn a very exact plan. I 
 think Lord Bute will be entertained by his conversation- 
 Almost all books are either defective or fabulous. I have 
 observed, the only true intelligence of distant countries is to be 
 had amongst those who have passed them without the design 
 of publishing their remarks. 
 
 • Ho married [on the 13th of September following] Lady Anne Somerset, eldest 
 daughter of Charles Noel Duke of Beaufort. — W. 
 
:^ ^^ 
 
 '-a^ 
 
 ' /j/^.^> 
 
 &yyc.^z^U^ /^^'7:^..,,C:'^t^„yMieyCJ'y,^_/'Jy, ^L««j^,. 
 
MU. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 353 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 
 Venice, Jan. 13, 1761 [1759]. 
 
 I HAVE indulged myself some time with day-dreams of the 
 happiness I hoped to enjoy this summer in the conversation of 
 Lady Fanny and Sir James S. ; but I hear such frightful 
 stories of precipices and hovels during the whole journey, I 
 begin to fear there is no such pleasure allotted me in the book 
 of fate : the Alps were once molehills in my sight when they 
 interposed between me and the slightest inclination ; now 
 age begins to freeze, and brings with it the usual train of 
 melancholy apprehensions. Poor human-kind I We always 
 march blindly on ; the fire of youth represents to us all our 
 wishes possible ; and, that over, we fall into despondency that 
 prevents even easy enterprises : a store in winter, a garden in 
 summer, bounds all our desires, or at least our undertakings. 
 If Mr. Steuart would disclose all his imaginations, I dare 
 swear he has some thoughts of emulating Alexander or De- 
 mosthenes, perhaps both : nothing seems difficult at his time 
 of hfe, everything at mine. I am very unwUling, but am 
 afraid I must submit to the confinement of my boat and my 
 easy-chair, and go no farther than they can carry me. Why 
 are our views so extensive and our power so miserably limited ? 
 This is among the mysteries which (as you justly say) will re- 
 main ever unfolded to our shallow capacities. I am much in- 
 chned to think we are no more free agents than the queen of 
 clubs when she victoriously takes prisoner the knave of hearts ; 
 and all our efforts (when we rebel against destiny) as weak as 
 a card that sticks to a glove when the gamester is deter- 
 mined to throw it on the table. Let us then (which is the only 
 true philosophy) be contented with our chance, and make the 
 best of that very bad bargain of being bom in this vile planet ; 
 where we may find, however (God be thanked), much to laugh 
 at, though httle to approve. 
 
 I confess I delight extremely in looking on men in that 
 light. How many thousands trample under foot honour, ease, 
 and pleasure, in pursuit of ribands of certain colours, dabs of 
 
 VOL. II. 2 A 
 
354 COERESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 embroidery on tlieir clotlies, and gilt wood carved betiad tbeir 
 coaches in a particular figure ? Others breaking their hearts 
 till they are distinguished by the shape and colour of their 
 hats ; and, in general, all people earnestly seeking what they 
 do not want, while they neglect the real blessings in their pos- 
 session — I mean, the innocent gratification of their senses, which 
 is all we can properly call our own. For my part, I will en- 
 deavour to comfort myself for the cruel disappointment I find 
 in renouncing Tubingen, by eating some fresh oysters on the 
 table. I hope you are sitting down with dear Lady F. to some 
 admirable red partridges, which I think are the growth of that 
 country. Adieu ! Live happy, and be not unmindful of 
 your sincere distant friend, who wiU remember you in the 
 tenderest manner while there is any such faculty as memory 
 in the machine called' 
 
 TO ME. WOETLET JIONTAGU. 
 
 Venice, Jan. 24 [1759]. 
 
 I EETTJEN you many thanks for yours of the 5th instant. 
 I never have received any in so short a time from England. 
 I am very sincerely, heartily, glad to hear of your health, but 
 will not trouble you with reading a long letter, which may be 
 uneasy to you, when I write so often and fully to our daugh- 
 ter. I have not heard from her of some time ; I hope her 
 sUence is not occasioned by any indisposition. I hear her and 
 her family praised very much by every Briton that arrives 
 here. I need not say what comfort I receive from it. It is 
 now finer weather than I ever saw in the season (Xaples ex- 
 cepted) ; the sun shines with as much warmth as in May. I 
 walk in my little garden every morning. I hope you do the 
 same at Bath. May you long continue a blessing to your 
 family and those who know you. 
 
 TO THE COUXTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 April 11 [1759]. 
 
 Mt deae Child, — I desire you will make my sincere con- 
 gratulations to the Duke and Duchess of Portland on the 
 
 ^ It is probable that the signature is required to complete the sense ; but I have 
 not seen the originals of the letters to Sir J. and Lady Frances Stenart. — T. 
 
ME. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 355 
 
 happy disposal of Lady Betty,^ mth my real wishes for her 
 future felicity. I send no compliments to her, who was too 
 much an infant to remember me ; neither do I write to either 
 of her parents, to avoid giving them the trouble of answering 
 a stupid letter. They have business enough on this occasion, 
 and I hope they both know me enough to believe that any de- 
 scendant from Lady Oxford (could I live so long as to see the 
 third and fourth generation) has a right to my desires (how- 
 ever insignificant my endeavours) to serve them. I once wished 
 much to see Lord Titchfield, he having been the principal 
 favourite of my ever honoured friend, but, as things are ma- 
 naged here, am really glad he does not pass by Venice. 
 
 Sir Wyndham Knatchbull, and a worthy clergyman, his 
 governor, are under such ridiculous persecutions, merely for 
 their civilities to me, that I heartily pray none of my friends 
 and relations may travel hither. I should be ashamed (in re- 
 gard to the Venetians, who are many of them particularly 
 obliging to me) to be slighted ; and very sorry to expose those 
 I wish to be well entertained, to disagreeable treatment, either 
 in their own persons, or in that of the gentlemen who are chose 
 by their guardians to accompany them. You will be so astonished 
 at this account I am afraid you should (as well you may) sus- 
 pect me of dotage. I confess it is highly incredible ; yet 
 literal simple truth, without the least provocation given by Sir 
 W., who is (as I have already told you), apart from the par- 
 tiality it is natural for me to have for him, one of the most 
 modest, well-disposed young men I have known abroad, and" 
 generally beloved by all that know him : even those who do- 
 not imitate his sobriety, applaud his conduct and that of his 
 governor ; whose only crime is, endeavouring to preserve the 
 health and good principles of his pupil. Your worthy friend 
 the general is fully sensible of the ill behaviour of these great 
 people (who fancy they represent their patrons), and has made 
 what remonstrances he could ; which were coldly received, and 
 instead of reformation, an increase of ill manners succeeded. I 
 
 ^ Lady Elizabeth Bentinck, married to Thomas Viscount "Weymouth, afterwards 
 Marqms of Bath. This marriage took place in May, 1759. — W. 
 
 2 a2 
 
356 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 suppose these deep politicians intend to drive me out of the 
 town in a pique ; or more refinedly expect I should desire 
 their recal ; being every day complaining of this odious country, 
 and wishing a more advantageous situation. They do not 
 know me : I cannot be provoked either to misbehave myself to 
 oblige my enemies, or ministerially to reward those that rail 
 against me. I have throughout my long life persisted in no 
 compliance with hush-money ; while I knew I did not want 
 any excuse for my actions. Perhaps I have suffered by it : 
 yet such have ever been my sentiments, which, it may be, you 
 will call wrong-headed. 
 
 I am exceeding glad of your father's good health : he owes 
 it to his uncommon abstinence and resolution. I wish I could 
 boast the same. I own I have too much indulged a sedentary 
 humour, and have been a rake in reading. You will laugh at 
 the expression, but I think the literal meaning of the ugly 
 word rake, is one that follows his pleasures in contradiction to 
 his reason. I thought mine so innocent I might pursue them 
 with impunity. I now find that I was mistaken, and that all 
 excesses are (though not equally) blamable. My spirits in 
 company are false fire : I have a damp within ; from marshy 
 grounds frequently arises an appearance of light. I grow 
 splenetic, and consequently ought to stop my pen, for fear of 
 conveying the infection. I would only communicate happiness 
 to my dear child, being ever your most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 [Indorsed, " From Venice, May 4th, 1759."] 
 
 You will not be surprised, sir, that after having been pro- 
 mised so valuable and so agreeable a present, I am a little 
 impatient to receive it ; there is no situation in which it would 
 not be highly welcome, but it is doubly so in a town where I 
 am almost as solitary as in a desert. I am extremely concerned 
 at the continuation of Lady Fanny's disorder ; the juvenile 
 dissipations of Mr. Steuart I do not put into the list of misfor- 
 tunes : appHcation is not to be expected at his age ; perhaps 
 
MR. WOKTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 357 
 
 not to be wished ; the judgment must have time to ripen, and 
 when the gaieties of early youth are over, you vpill see that 
 sohdity more firm than if it had appeared prematurely. I am 
 persuaded that you will find him turn out everything you wish, 
 and that he will repay the care of his education by a conduct 
 worthy of such parents. 
 
 Here is a fashion sprung up entirely new in this part of the 
 world ; I mean suicide : a rich parish priest and a young Ce- 
 lestine monk have disposed of themselves last week in that 
 manner without any visible reason for their precipitation. The 
 priest, indeed, left a paper in his hat to signify his desire of 
 imitating the indifference of Socrates and magnanimity of 
 Oato : the friar swung out of the world without giving any 
 account of his design. You see it is not in Britain alone that 
 the spleen spreads his dominion. I look on all excursions of 
 this kind to be owing to that distemper, which shows the ne- 
 cessity of seeking employment for the mind, and exercise for 
 the body ; the spirits and the blood stagnate without motion. 
 
 You are to be envied whose studies are not only useful to 
 yourself but beneficial to mankind ; even mine (good for 
 nothing as they are) contribute to my health, and serve at 
 least to lull asleep those corroding reflections that embitter 
 life, and wear out the frail machine in which we inhabit. 
 
 I enclose a letter from Mr. Duff, in which (he tells me) he 
 has directed in what manner I may receive your inquiry into 
 the principles of Political Economy. I do not doubt enjoying 
 great pleasure and instruction in the reading of it, though I 
 want no fresh inducement to bind me ever, sir. 
 
 Your most obliged and affectionate servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Venice, May 22 [1769]. 
 
 My dear Child, — I am always pleased to hear from you, 
 but particularly so when I have any occasion of congratula- 
 tion. I sincerely wish you joy of your infant having gone 
 happily through the small-pox. I had a letter from your father 
 before he left London. He does not give so good an account 
 
358 COERESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 of his spirits as you do, but I hope his journeys will restore 
 them. I am convinced nothing is so conducive to health and 
 absolutely necessary to some constitutions. I am not surprised, 
 as I believe you think I ought to be, at Lord Leicester's' leav- 
 ing his large estate to his lady, notwithstanding the contempt 
 with which he always treated her, and her real inability of 
 managing it. I expect you should laugh at me for the ex- 
 ploded notion of predestination, yet I confess I am inclined to 
 be of the opinion that nobody makes their own marriage or 
 their own will : it is what I have often said to the D. [Duchess] 
 of Marlborough, when she has been telling mo her last in- 
 tentions, none of which she has performed ; choosing Lord 
 C. [Chesterfield] for her executor, whose true character she has 
 many times enlarged upon. I could say much more to support 
 this doctrine, if it would not lengthen my letter beyond a 
 readable size. 
 
 Building is the general weakness of old people ; I have had 
 a twitch of it myself, though certainly it is the highest absur- 
 dity, and as sm-e a proof of dotage as pink-coloured ribands, 
 or even matrimony. Nay, perhaps, there is more to be said in 
 defence of the last ; I mean in a childless old man ; he may 
 prefer a boy born in his own house, though he knows it is not 
 his own, to disrespectful or worthless nephews or nieces. But 
 there is no excuse for beginning an edifice he can never in- 
 habit, or probably see finished. The Duchess of Marlborough 
 used to ridicule the vanity of it, by saying one might always 
 live upon other people's f olHes : yet you see she built the most 
 ridiculous house I ever saw, since it really is not habitable, 
 from the excessive damps ; so true it is, the things that we 
 would do, those do we not, and the things we would not do, 
 those do we daily. I feel in myself a proof of this assertion, 
 being much against my will at Venice, though I own it is the 
 only great town where I can properly reside, yet here I find 
 so many vexations, that, in spite of all my philosophy and 
 
 ' Sir Thomas Coke, K.B., created Baron Lovell, 1728, and Viscount Coke and 
 Earl of Leicester, 1744, died 1759. His lady was Margaret, third daughter and co- 
 heir of Thomas Earl of Thanet, and in 1734 was declared Baroness Clifford.— W. 
 
MK. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 359 
 
 (what is more powerful) my phlegm, I am oftener out of 
 humour than among my plants and poultry in the country. I 
 cannot help being concerned at the success of iniquitous 
 schemes, and grieve for oppressed merit. You, who see these 
 things every day, think me as unreasonable, in making them 
 matter of complaint, as if I seriously lamented the change of 
 seasons. You should consider I have lived almost a hermit 
 ten years, and the world is as new to me as to a country girl 
 transported from Wales to Coventry. I know I ought to tliink 
 my lot very good, that can boast of some sincere friends 
 amoncf strangers.i 
 
 Sir W. K. [Wyndham KnatchbuU] and his governor, Mr. 
 de Vismes, are at length parted. I am very sorry for them 
 both. I cannot help wishing well to the young man, who 
 really has merit, and would have been happy in a companion 
 that sincerely loved him and studied his interest. My letter 
 is so long I am frighted at it myself. I never know when to 
 end when I write to you. Forgive it amongst the other in- 
 firmities of your affectionate mother. 
 
 If my things are at sea, I am afraid they are lost. Here 
 have been such storms these three days as never were known 
 at this season. I shall regret nothing so much as your father's 
 present. Perhaps my token to you is also at the bottom of 
 the ocean. That I sent by hand to Lady Mary is fallen into 
 the French hands, as I am told. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Padua, June 24 [1759]. 
 
 My deak Child, — I have this minute received yours of 
 May 24th. I am glad the Uttle picture pleases Lady Mary. 
 It is a true representation of the summer dishabille of the 
 Venetian ladies. You have taken no notice of the box I sent 
 by Captain Munden. If it is lost, I will venture nothing more 
 at sea. I have had a letter from Mr. Mackenzie informing me 
 that he has sent my books. I have not yet received them, but 
 hope to have that pleasure in a short time. I could heartily 
 
 ' The latter portion of this paragraph is torn away in the original. T. 
 
860 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 wish to see Lady Betty and your brother-in-law. I fancy I 
 have a thousand questions to ask, in relation to their nephews 
 and nieces. Whatever touches you is important to me. I fear 
 I must not expect that satisfaction. They are obliged to reside 
 at Turin ; and I cannot resolve to appear in a court, where old 
 people always make an ill figure, even when they may have 
 business there. I am not surprised at Lady Waldegrave's 
 good fortune.^ Beauty has a large prerogative. * * * 
 
 Lord Fordwich^ arrived here three days ago ; he made me 
 a visit yesterday, and appears a well-disposed youth. Lord 
 Brudenell continues here, and seems to have no desire of see- 
 ing his native land. Here are beside a large group of Enghsh 
 gentlemen, who will all disperse in a short time. General 
 Graham has promised to oblige me with his company a few 
 days, though his charge finds him so much employment. It 
 may (perhaps) be impossible for him to leave Yenice. I sup- 
 pose you are now at Kew, with all yotir rising family about 
 you : may they ever be blessings to you I I beheve you that 
 see them every day scarce think of them oftener than I do. 
 
 This town is at present very full of company, though the 
 opera is not much applauded. I have not yet seen it, nor 
 intend to break my rest for its sake ; it being about the houf 
 I go to sleep. I continue my college hours, by which I am 
 excluded [from] many fashionable amusements. In recom- 
 pense, I have better health and spirits than many younger 
 ladies, who pass their nights at the ridotto, and days in spleen 
 for their losses there. Play is the general plague of Europe. 
 
 ' Maria, natural daughter of Sir Edward Walpole, second son of Sir Robert, 
 was married to James Earl of Waldegrave, in May, 1759. Her mother was of ex- 
 ceedingly humble origin. A contemporary, who was well acquainted with the courts 
 of King George the First and Second, thus alludes in a private letter, which I 
 have seen, to this fact : " Lady Waldegrave's mother was the most remarkable 
 beauty I ever heard of. Being taken notice of by Mrs. Seeker [the Bishop 
 of Oxford's daughter], who told it to me, when she was in the humble position 
 of sitting on a dust-cart before the bishop's door, that lady had the curiosity to 
 call her in merely to see her nearer, and assured me that, in all her rags and dirt, 
 she never saw a more lovely creature. Some time after she heard she was in the 
 hands of a Coveut-garden milliner, who transferred her to Neddy W. [Walpole], 
 who doted on her to the day of her death," Lady Waldegrave afterwards mar- 
 ried the Duke of Gloucester. — T. 
 
 ^ George Nassau Clavering Cowper, afterwards Earl Cowper,' horn August 26, 
 1738, and died at Florence, 1789.— W. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 361 
 
 I know no corner of it entirely free from the infection. I do 
 not doubt the famiharities of the gaming-table contribute 
 very much to that decay of politeness of which you complain. 
 The pouts and quarrels that naturally arise from disputes, 
 must put an end to all complaisance, or even good will towards 
 on6 another. 
 
 I am interrupted by a visit from Mr. Hamilton ; he desires 
 me to make his compliments to you and Lord Bute. I am to 
 you both a most affectionate mother. 
 
 My hearty blessing to aU yours. 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUAKT. 
 
 Padua, July 19, 1759. 
 
 YouK letters always give me a great deal of pleasure, but 
 particularly this, which has relieved me from the pain I was 
 in from your silence. 
 
 I have seen the Margrave of Baden Dourlach ; but I hope 
 he has forgot he has ever seen me, being at that time in a very 
 odd situation, of which I will not give you the history at 
 present, being a long story, and you know life is too short for 
 a long story. 
 
 I am extremely obUged for the valuable present you intend 
 me. I beUeve you criticise yourself too severely on your style : 
 1 do not think that very smooth harmony is necessary in a 
 work which has a merit of a nobler kind ; I think it rather a 
 defect, as when a Roman emperor (as we see him sometimes 
 represented on a French stage) is dressed like a petit maitre. 
 I confess the crowd of readers look no further ; the tittle-tattle 
 of Madame de S^vign^, and the clinquant of Telemachus, have 
 found admirers from that very reason. Whatever is clearly 
 expressed, is well wrote in a book of reasoning. However, 
 I shall obey your commands in telling you my opinion with 
 the greatest sincerity. 
 
 I am extremely glad to hear that Lady F. [Frances] has over- 
 come her disorder ; I wish I had no apprehensions of falling 
 into it. Solitude begets whimsies ; at my time of life one 
 
362 COEEESPONDENCE "WITH 
 
 usually falls into those that are melancholy, though I endeavour 
 to keep up a certain sprightly folly that (I thank God) I was 
 bom with, but, alas ! what can we do with all our endeavours I 
 I am afraid we are little better than straws upon the water : we 
 may flatter ourselves that we swim, when the current carries 
 us along. 
 
 Thus far I have dictated for the first time of my Ufe, and 
 perhaps it will be the last, for my amanuensis is not to be 
 hired, and I despair of ever meeting with another. He is the 
 first that could write as fast as I talk, and yet you see there 
 are so many mistakes, it wants a comment longer than my 
 letter to explain my insignificant meaning, and I have fatigued 
 my poor eyes more with correcting it than I should have done in 
 scribbling two sheets of paper. You wiU think, perhaps, from 
 this idle attempt, that I have some fluxion on my sight ; no 
 such matter ; I have suffered myself to be persuaded by such 
 sort of arguments as those by which people are induced to 
 strict abstinence, or to take physic. Fear, paltry fear, founded 
 on vapours rising from the heat, which is now excessive, and 
 has so far debilitated my miserable nerves that I submit to a 
 present displeasure, by way of precaution against a future evO, 
 that possibly may never happen. I have this to say in my 
 excuse, that the evil is of so horrid a nature, I own I feel no 
 philosophy that could support me under it, and no mountain 
 girl ever trembled more at one of Whitfield's pathetic lectures 
 than I do at the word blindness, though I know all the fine 
 things that may be said for consolation in such a case : but I 
 know, also, they would not operate on my constitution. " Why, 
 then" (say my wise monitors), " wiU you persist in reading or 
 writing seven hours in a day ?" " I am happy while I read and 
 write." " Indeed, one would suffer a great deal to be happy," 
 say the men, sneermg ; and the ladies wink at each other, and 
 hold up their fans. A fine lady of threescore had the good- 
 ness to add, " At least, madam, you should use spectacles ; I 
 have used them myself these twenty years ; I was advised to 
 it by a famous oculist when I was fifteen. I am really of 
 opinion that they have preserved my sight, notwithstanding 
 
ME. WOKTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 363 
 
 the passion I always had both for reading and drawing." This 
 good woman, you must know, is lialf blind, and never read a 
 larger volume than a newspaper. I will not trouble you with 
 the whole conversation, though it would make an excellent 
 scene in a farce ; but after they had in the best bred way in 
 the world convinced me that they thought I lied when I talked 
 of reading vdthout glasses, the foresaid matron obligingly said 
 she should be very proud to see the writing I talked of, having 
 heard me say formerly I had no correspondents but my 
 daughter and Mr. Wortley. She was interrupted by her 
 sister, who said, simpering, " You forgot Sir J. S." I took 
 her up something short, I confess, and said in a dry stem 
 tone, "Madam, I do write to Sir J. S. and will do it as long 
 as he will permit that honour." This rudeness of mine occa- 
 sioned a profound silence for some minutes, and they fell into 
 a good-natured discourse of the ill consequences of too much 
 application, and remembered how many apoplexies, gouts, and 
 dropsies had happened amongst the hard students of their 
 acquaintance. As I never studied anything in my Hfe, and 
 have always (at least from fifteen) thought the reputation of 
 learning a misfortune to a woman, I was resolved to believe 
 these stories were not meant at me : I grew silent in my turn, 
 and took up a card that lay on a table, and amused myself with 
 smoking it over a candle. In the mean time (as the song 
 says), 
 
 " Their tattles all run, as swift as the sun, 
 Of who had won, and who was undone 
 By their gaming and sitting up late." 
 
 When it was observed I entered into none of these topics, I 
 was addressed by an obliging lady, who pitied my stupidity. 
 " Indeed, madam, you should buy horses to that fine machine 
 you have at Padua; of what use is it standing in the 
 portico f " Perhaps," said another, wittily, " of as much 
 use as a standing dish." A gaping schoolboy added with 
 still more wit, " I have seen at a country gentleman's table a 
 venison-pasty made of wood." I was not at all vexed by said 
 schoolboy, not because he was (in more senses than one) the 
 highest of the company, but knowing he did not mean to 
 
364 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 offend me. I confess (to my shame be it spoken) I was 
 grieved at the triumph that appeared in the eyes of the king 
 and queen of the company, the court being tolerably full. His 
 majesty walked off early with the air befitting his dignity, 
 followed by his train of courtiers, who, like courtiers, were 
 laughing amongst themselves as they followed him : and I 
 was left with the two queens, one of whom was making ruffles 
 for the man she loved, and the other slopping tea for the 
 good of her country. They renewed their generous endea- 
 vours to set me right, and I (graceless beast that I am) take . 
 up the smoked card which lay before me, and with the comer 
 of another wrote — 
 
 If ever I one thought bestow 
 
 On what such fools advise, 
 May I be dull enough to grow 
 
 Most miserably wise. 
 
 And flung down the card on the table, and myself out of the 
 room, in the most indecent fury. A few minutes on the cold 
 water convinced me of my folly, and I went home as much 
 mortified as my Lord E. when he has lost his last stake at 
 hazard. Pray don't think (if you can help it) this is an affec- 
 tation of mine to enhance the value of a talent I would be 
 thought to despise ; as celebrated beauties often talk of the 
 charms of good sense, having some reason to fear their mental 
 qualities are not quite so conspicuous as their outside lovely 
 form. — A propos of beauties : 
 
 I know not why, but Heaven has sent this way 
 
 A nymph, fair, kind, poetical, and gay ; 
 
 And what is more (tho* 1 express it dully), 
 
 A noble, wise, right honourable cully : 
 
 A soldier worthy of the name he bears, 
 
 As brave and senseless as the sword he wears. 
 
 You wHl not doubt I am talking of a puppet-show ; and in- 
 deed so I am ; but the figures (some of them) bigger than the 
 hfe, and not stuffed with straw like those commonly shown at 
 fairs. I will allow you to think me madder than Don Quixote 
 when I confess I am governed by the que-dira-t-on of these 
 things, though I remember whereof they are made, and know 
 they are but dust. Nothing vexes me so much as that they 
 are below satire. (Between you and me) I think there are 
 
SIR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 365 
 
 but two pleasures permitted to mortal man, love and ven- 
 geance ; both which are, in a peculiar manner, forbidden to 
 us wretches who are condemned to petticoats. Even vanity 
 itself, of which you daily accuse us, is the sin against the 
 Holy Ghost not to be forgiven in this world or the next. 
 
 Our sex's -weakness you expose and blame, 
 Of every prating fop the common theme ; 
 Tet from this weakness you suppose is due 
 Sublimer virtue than your Cato Itnew. 
 From whence is this unjust distinction shown ? 
 Are we not formed with passions like your own ? 
 Nature with equal fire our souls endued : 
 Our minds as lofty, and as warm our blood. 
 O'er the wide world your wishes you pursue, ^ 
 The change is justified by something new, >■ 
 But we must sigh in silence and be true. j 
 
 How the great Dr. Swift would stare at this vile triplet ! 
 And then what business have I to make apologies for Lady 
 Vane, whom I never spoke to, because her life is writ by Dr. 
 Smollett, whom I never saw ? Because my daughter fell in 
 love with Lord Bute, am I obliged to fall in love with the 
 whole Scots nation ? 'Tis certain I take their quarrels upon 
 myself in a very odd way ; and I cannot deny that (two or 
 three dozen excepted) I think they make the first figure in all 
 arts and sciences ; even in gallantry, in spite of the finest 
 gentlemen that have finished their education at Paris. 
 
 You will ask me what I mean by all this nonsense, after 
 having declared myself an enemy to obscurity to such a degree 
 that I do not forgive it to the great Lord Viscount Bolingbroke, 
 who professes he studied it. I dare swear you will sincerely 
 beheve him when you read his celebrated works. I have got 
 them for you, and intended to bring them. Oime ! thuomo 
 propone, Dio dispone. I hope you won't think this dab of 
 Italian, that shd involuntarily from my pen, an affectation 
 like his Gallicisms, or a rebellion against Providence, in imita- 
 tion of his lordship, who I never saw but once in my life : he 
 then appeared in a comer of the drawing-room, in the exact 
 similitude of Satan when he was sohciting the court of 
 Heaven for leave to torment an honest man. 
 
 There is one honest man lately gone off the stage, which 
 
366 COEEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 (considering the great scarcity of them) I am heartily sorry 
 for : Dr. J * * *, who died at Eome with as much stoicism 
 as Cato at Utica, and less desperation, leaving a world he was 
 weary of with the cool indifference you quit a dirty inn, to 
 continue your journey to a place where you hope for better 
 accommodation. He took part of a bowl of punch with some 
 Englishmen of my acquaintance the day before his death, and 
 told them with a firm tone of voice, " by G — ■ he was going." 
 I am afraid neither Algarotti^ nor Valsinura wUl make their 
 exit with so good a grace. I shall rejoice them both by letting 
 them know you honour them with a place in your memory, 
 when I see them; which I have not done since you left 
 Padua. Algarotti is at Bologna, I believe, composing pane- 
 gyrics on whoever is victor in this uncertain war ; and Valsi- 
 nura gone to make a tour to add to his collection. Which do 
 you think the best employed ? I confess I am woman enough 
 to think the naturahst who searches after variegated butter- 
 flies, or even the lady who adorns her grotto with shades of 
 shells, nay, even the devout people who spend twenty years in 
 making a magnificent presepio at Naples, throw away time in 
 a more rational manner than any hero, ancient or modem ; 
 the lofty Pindar, who celebrated the Newmarket of those 
 days, or the divine Homer, who recorded the bloody battles 
 the most in fashion, appear to me either to have been ex- 
 tremely mistaken or extremely mercenary. 
 
 This paragraph is to be a dead secret between Lady F. and 
 yourself. You see I dare trust you with the knowledge of all 
 my defects in understanding. Mine is so stupified by age 
 and disappointment, I own I have lost all taste for worldly 
 glory. This is partly your fault : 1 experienced last year how 
 much happiness may be found with two amiable friends at a 
 leger repas, and 'tis as hard to return to political or gallant 
 conversations, as it would be for a fat prelate to content him- 
 self with the small beer he drank at college. You have fur- 
 nished me with a new set of notions ; you ought to be punished 
 for it; and I fancy you will (at least in your heart) be of 
 
 ' Count Algarotti, the celebrated Italian savant. — T. 
 
MR. WOKTLET MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 367 
 
 opinion that I have very well revenged myself by this tedious, 
 unconnected letter. Indeed, I intend no such thing, and have 
 only indulged the pleasure everybody naturally feels when 
 they talk to those they love ; as I sincerely do to yourself, and 
 dear Lady F., and your young man, because he is yours.^ 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Padua, Aug. 10 [1759]. 
 
 Mt DEAR Child, — I received yours by Mr. Hamilton 
 with exceeding pleasure. It brought me all the news I desire 
 to hear — your father's health and your prosperity being all 
 the wishes I have on earth. I think few people have so much 
 reason to bless God as yourself — happy in the affection of the 
 man you love ; happy in seeing him high in the general 
 esteem, 
 
 " Lov'd by the good, by the oppressor feared;" 
 
 happy in a numerous, beautiful posterity. Mr. Hamilton gave 
 me such an account of them as made me shed tears of joy, 
 mixed with sorrow that I cannot partake the blessing of seeing 
 them round you. He says Lady Anne is the beauty of the 
 family, though they are all agreeable. May they ever con- 
 tinue an honour to you, and a pleasure to all that see them. 
 
 There are preparations, at Venice, for a regatta : it can 
 hardly be performed till the middle of next month. I shall 
 remove thither to see it, though I have already seen that which 
 was exhibited in compliment to the Prince of Saxony. It is 
 by far the finest sight in Eiurope (not excepting our own coro- 
 nations) ; it is hardly possible to give you any notion of it by 
 description. The general [Graham] has sho^vn me a letter 
 from Lord Bute, very obliging to me, and which gives a very 
 good impression both of his heart and understanding, from the 
 honest resolutions and just reflections that are in it. My time 
 here is entirely employed in riding, walking, and reading. I 
 see httle company, not being of a humour to join in their 
 
 ' In this letter " the king and queen" apparently mean Mr. and Mrs. Murray, 
 the English resident at Venice and his wife, -with -whom Lady Mary was on the worst 
 terms imaginable. — W. 
 
368 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 diversions. I feel greatly the loss of Sir James Steuart and 
 Lady Fanny, whose conversation was equally pleasing and in- 
 structive. I do not expect to have it ever replaced. There 
 are not many such couples. One of my best friends at Venice 
 I beheve your father remembers. He is Signor Antonio 
 Mocenigo, widower of that celebrated beauty the Procuratessa 
 Mocenigo. He is eighty-two, in perfect health and spirits, 
 his eloquence much admired in the senate, where he has great 
 weight. He still retains a degree of that figure which once 
 made him esteemed one of the handsomest men in the republic. 
 I am particularly obliged to him, and proud of being admitted 
 into the number of seven or eight select friends, near his own 
 age, who pass the evenings with him. 
 
 God bless you, my dear child, and all yours. Pray make 
 my compliments to Lord Bute, and return him thanks for the 
 kind manner in which he has mentioned me to the general. 
 I am ever 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Sept. 26, 1759. 
 
 Mt deae Child, — I am very glad to find by yours of 
 Sept. 3rd that yourself and family are aU in good health. I 
 cannot complain of mine, though the season is more sickly 
 than has been known of many years past, occasioned by the 
 excessive heat. We have had no rain of three months, and if 
 the drought continues the most fatal consequences may be ex- 
 pected. There is already a mortahty amongst the cattle, which 
 frightens everybody. 
 
 I am invited to a great wedding to-morrow, which will be in 
 the most splendid manner, to the contentment of both the 
 families, everything being jequal, even the indifference of the 
 bride and bridegroom, though each of them is extremely 
 pleased, by being set free from governors and governesses. 
 To say truth, I think they are less likely to be disappointed, in 
 the plan they have formed, than any of our romantic couples, 
 who have their heads full of love and constancy. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 369 
 
 I have not yet received my books from Mr. Mackenzie, 
 though he has sent them some time ago. I believe you will 
 soon see a Mr. Ferguson, who (between you and I) is, in my 
 opinion, the prettiest man I have seen since I left England. 
 A propos of men, here is lately arrived a tall, fair, well-shaped 
 young fellow, with a good character, the reputation of a good 
 understanding, and in present possession of twelve thousand 
 pounds per annum. His name is Southwell. I charge you 
 not to look upon him ; and to lock up your daughters if he 
 should visit Lord Bute. He honoured me with a visit, which 
 hindered my sleeping all night. You will [be] surprised to 
 hear he has neither visible nose nor mouth : yet he speaks 
 with a clear, audible voice. You may imagine such a figure 
 should not be seen by any woman in a possibility of breeding. 
 He appears insensible of his misfortune, and shows himself 
 every day on the Piazza, to the astonishment of all the spec- 
 tators. I never saw [so] shocking a sight. 
 
 My dear child, God bless you and yours. It is the zealous 
 and daily prayer of your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and hearty blessing to all 
 our children. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 [Nov. 9, 1769.] 
 
 My dear Child,— I received yours of Oct. 18th this day, 
 Nov. 9th. I am afraid some letters both of yours and mine 
 are lost, nor am I much surprised at it, seeing the manage- 
 ments here. Li this world much miust be suffered, and we 
 ought all to follow the rule of Epictetus, " Bear and forbear." 
 General Wolfe' is to be lamented, but not pitied. I am of 
 your opinion, compassion is only owing to his mother and in- 
 tended bride, who I think the greatest sufferer (however sen- 
 sible I am of a parent's tenderness). Disappointments in 
 youth are those that are felt with the greatest anguish, when 
 we are all in expectation of happiness, perhaps not to be f oimd 
 in this life. 
 
 ' General Wolfe was killed at the siege of Quebec, in September, 1769. — T. 
 VOL. II. 2 B 
 
370 COERESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 I am very sorry L. [Lady] F. [Frances] Erskine has re- 
 moved my poor sister to London, where she will only be more 
 exposed. I would write again to her if I thought it could be 
 any comfort in her deplorable condition. I say nothing to her 
 daughter, who [is] too like her father for me to correspond 
 with. 
 
 I am very niuch diverted with the adventures of the three 
 graces lately arrived in London, and am heartily sorry their 
 mother has not learning enough to write memoirs. She might 
 make the fortune of half a dozen Dodsleys. The youngest 
 girl (called here Bettina) is taller than the Duchess of Mon- 
 tagu, and as red and white as any German alive. If she has 
 sense enough to follow good instructions, she will be irre- 
 sistible, and may produce very glorious novelties. [I know 
 nothing of her, except her figure.'] Our great minister has 
 her picture amongst his collection of ladies — hasta I 
 
 My health is better than I can reasonably expect at my age, 
 though I have at present a great cold in my head, which 
 makes writing uneasy to me, and forces me to shorten my 
 letter to my dear child. I have received the books from Mr. 
 Mackenzie. Mr. Walpole's is not amongst them. Make my 
 best compliments to Lord Bute, and give my blessing to all 
 your children. Your happiness in every circumstance is 
 zealously wished by (dear child) your most affectionate 
 mother. 
 
 TO MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Venice, Nov. 23 [1759]. 
 
 I DO not write to you often, being afraid of being trouble- 
 some, and supposing that my daughter communicates .my 
 letters to you. I have the pleasure of hearing from her that 
 you have good health and spirits, which I heartily wish the 
 continuance of. I have seen lately a history of the last years 
 of Queen Anne, by Swift. I should be very glad to know 
 your opinion of it. Some facts are apparently false, and I 
 
 ' This is inserted from another copy in Lady Mary's handwriting. — T. 
 
ME. WOETLET MONTAGU AND OTHEES. 371 
 
 believe others partially represented. The winter is begun 
 here severely, but we have had a most delightful autumn. 
 I hope everything is to your satisfaction in England. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Lord Beudenell^ is still here, and appears to be in a very 
 bad state of health, and extreme unwilling to return to Eng- 
 land, being apprehensive of the air. I fear his parents will 
 have the affliction of losing him, if they resolve to keep him 
 with them : he seems highly disposed to, if not actually fallen 
 into a consumption. We are now in the carnival, and all but 
 myself in eager pursuit of the pleasures of the season. I have 
 had a letter from Mr. Mackenzie, who is excessively liked at 
 Turin. I cannot be persuaded to go thither, but heartily 
 wish I could contrive some other place to see him and Lady 
 Betty. I am determined, on account of my health, to take 
 some little jaunt this spring ; perhaps on the side of the Tyrol, 
 which I have never seen, but hear it is an exceeding fine 
 country. To say truth, I am tempted by the letters of Lady- 
 F. Steuart and Sir James. I never knew people more to my" 
 taste. They reside in a little town but two days from 
 Padua, where it will [be] easy to find a convenient lodging- 
 for the summer months, and I arn sure of being pleased in 
 their company. I have found, wherever I have travelled, the 
 pleasantest spots of ground have been in the valleys that are 
 encompassed with high mountains. 
 
 My letter must end here or not go, the gentleman being 
 come to demand it. He sets out to-morrow, early. I am 
 ever, my dear child, your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 I would send you my token, but I perceive he does not care 
 to be charged with it. 
 
 ' John Lord Brudenell, only son of George Earl of Cardigan. — W. 
 
 2b2 
 
372 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 [Venice, January, 1760.'] 
 
 I AJii always glad to hear of my dear child's health. I daily 
 pray for the continuance of it, and all other blessings on yon 
 and yonr family. The carnival hitherto has heen clouded by 
 extreme wet weather, but we are in hopes the sunshine is re- 
 served for the second part of it, after Christmas, when the 
 morning masquerades give all the ladies an opportunity of 
 displaying both their magnificence and their taste, in the 
 various habits that appear at that time. I was very well 
 diverted by them last year. Mr. Southwell has left us some 
 time. I was almost reconciled to his figure by his good 
 behaviour and polite conversation. Here are at present few 
 English. Lord Brudenell ought to be at London. I think I 
 have already told you he resembles his grandfather, but it is a 
 strong caricature. I hear Rome is crammed with Britons. 
 In their turns I suppose we shall see them all. I cannot say 
 the jising generation gives any great prospect of improvement, 
 either in the arts and sciences or in anything else. I am ex- 
 ceedingly pleased that the Duchess of Portland is happy in 
 her son-in-law. I must ever interest myself in whatever 
 happens to any descendant of Lady Oxford. I expect that 
 my books and china should set out. Since the defeat of the 
 French fleet I should imagine there can be no danger on the 
 sea. They vsdll be a great amusement to me ; I mix so little 
 in the gay world, and at present my garden is quite useless. 
 I wrote lately to your father, who I guess to be returned to 
 London. I am informed Mr. Mackenzie makes a very good 
 figure at Turin. General Graham has bad health, and Mr. 
 Hamilton is the Lord knows where, which occasions much 
 speculation. 
 
 ' Mr. Dallaway and Lord Whamcliffe date this letter "Venice, Jan. 20, 1758;" 
 but the original has no date or endorsement, except the English postmark. " Feb. 4." 
 It could not have been written in 1768, because it contains an allusion to Mr. 
 Mackenzie being at Turin. From a mention of Lord Brudenell as on his way to 
 England, it was probably written soon after the preceding to Lady Bute, in which 
 Lord Brudenell is also referred to. The presumed date (1760) is further confirmed 
 by the allusion to the defeat of the French fleet, which refers, no doubt, to Sir 
 Edward Hawke's victory on the 20th of November, 1759. — T. 
 
MR. 'WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 373 
 
 Venice is not a place to make a man's fortune. For those 
 who have money to throw away, they may do it here more 
 agreeably than in any town I know ; strangers being received 
 with great civility, and admitted into all their parties of plea- 
 sure. But it requires a good estate and good constitution to 
 play deep, and pass so many sleepless nights, as is. customary 
 in the best company. Adieu, my dear chUd. You see I am 
 profoundly dvdl. I desire you would be so good to attribute 
 it to the gloominess of the weather. It is now almost night, 
 though at noonday. I am in all humours, your most affec- 
 tionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 
 Venice, Feb. 18, 1760. 
 
 Sir, — I have waited (in my opinion) with very exemplary 
 patience for your manuscripts ; I have not yet received them, 
 but will not longer delay my thanks for your obUging and 
 agreeable letter. I am apt to believe Lord H. may be sincere 
 in saying he is willing to serve you : how far he can be useful 
 is, I think, dubious ; you know he is only a subaltern officer. 
 I wish I knew any probable method of ensuring success to 
 your wishes : you may certainly depend on everything that 
 can be done towards it, either by my own or the interest of 
 those whom I can influence. 
 
 If I considered merely my own inclinations, I should advise 
 the air of this town, since the physicians are of opinion that 
 the sea would be salutary to your constitution. I dare not 
 press this earnestly, finding myself highly prejudiced where 
 my own happiness is so nearly concerned : yet I can with 
 truth assure you that yours shall always have the first place, 
 and, was it in my power (notwithstanding the real pleasure of 
 such excellent conversation), I would give up all hopes of it, 
 and immediately transport you and Lady Fanny to your 
 native country, where I am persuaded the pleasiu'e of seeing 
 your household Lares, and having your friends round you, 
 
374 COKEESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 would certainly contribute to your health, if not totally restore 
 it. I heartily congratulate you on your happiness in the 
 growing improvements of Mr. Steuart : it is, perhaps, the most 
 pleasing employment in life to form a young mind well-dis- 
 posed to receive instruction ; when a parent's care is returned 
 with gratitude and compliance, there is no conqueror or legis- 
 lator that receives such sincere satisfaction. I have not seen 
 the histories you mention, nor have had for this last twelve- 
 month any books from England. It is difficult to send any- 
 thing from thence, as my daughter informs me ; and our 
 travelling yoiing gentlemen very seldom burden themselves 
 with such unnecessary baggage as works of hterature. 
 
 Give me leave to send my warmest thanks to Lady Fanny 
 for her kind remembrance, and compliments to the young 
 gentleman, who I hope will always be a blessing to you both. 
 It is extreme mortifying to me that I have no better way of 
 -expressing how much I am, sir. 
 
 Your most obliged and very humble servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Venice, Feb. 24 [1760]. 
 
 My dear Child, — I wrote to you, some days ago, a letter 
 by General Graham, but, as many accidents may delay his 
 arrival, I will not omit to thank you for yoiu's of January 18. 
 
 I am not so much surprised at Lady Louisa Kerr's flight as 
 you seem to be.^ Six or seven months is a great while to 
 wait, in the opinion of a young lover, and I do not think Lord 
 George much in the wrong to fear the effect of artifices, ab- 
 sence, and new proposals, that could not fail of being made to 
 her in that time. 
 
 The carnival is now over, and we have no more ridotto or 
 theatrical entertainments. Diversions have taken a more pri- 
 vate, perhaps a more agreeable, turn. It is the fashion to 
 have little houses of retreat, where the lady goes eveiy evening, 
 
 ' " There is nothing domestic, but that Lord George Lennox, being refused Lord 
 Ancram's consent, set out for Edinburgh with Lady Louisa Kerr the day before 
 yesterday." — Horace Walpole to George Montagu, Dec. 23, 1769. — T. 
 
ME. WOKTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 375 
 
 at seven or eight o'clock, and is visited by all her intimates of 
 both sexes, which commonly amount to seventy or eighty per- 
 sons, where they have play, concerts of music, sometimes 
 dancing, and always a handsome collation. I beheve you 
 will think these httle assemblies very pleasing ; they reaUy 
 are so. Whoever is well acquainted with Venice must own 
 that it is the centre of pleasure; not so noisy, and, in my 
 opinion, more refined than Paris. 
 
 I am extremely glad Lady Jane turns out so much to your 
 satisfaction ; though I am told Lady Anne is the beauty. We 
 have now no English here. Mr. Wright and his lady, Mr. 
 Stuart, and Mr. Panton, set out together a few days ago, in- 
 tending for Rome and Naples. I suppose the Ascension will 
 bring us a fresh cargo, as I hear there are many dispersed 
 about Italy. Lord BrudeneU seemed to leave it with great 
 reluctance. He is singular both in his manner and sentiments. 
 Yet I am apt to believe if he meets with a sensible wife, she 
 may be very happy with him. Whoever leaves him at his 
 Hberty will certainly meet no contradiction from him who is 
 too indolent to dispute with anybody, and appears indifferent 
 to our sex. [I am] persuaded he will [not ?] be any [torn] 
 recommended by [torn] parents without hesitation. 
 
 I have had lately a letter from poor Lady Blount.' She is 
 now in easy circumstances if she can manage discreetly. I 
 have a great regard for the uncommon sincerity of her cha- 
 racter, but am afraid she will be always too open to the 
 attacks of flattery. Adieu, my dear child. God bless you 
 and yoiurs, which [is] the most zealous prayer of your truly 
 affectionate mother. 
 
 My comphments to Lord Bute. 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 
 Venice, March 1, 1760. 
 
 I HAVE at length received your valuable and magnificent 
 present. You will have me give my opinion ; I know not 
 
 ' Anne, daughter of Charles Cornwallis, Esq., of Medlow, and widoir of Sir 
 Harry Pope Blount, of Tittenhanger. — T. 
 
376 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 how to do it without your accusing me of flattery (though I 
 am siu:e no other person would suspect it). It is hard to for- 
 bear praising where there is so much due ; yet I would rather 
 talk of your performance to any other than yourself. If I 
 durst speak out, I would say, that you have explained in the 
 best manner the most difficult subject, and struck out new 
 lights that are necessary to enforce conviction even to those 
 who have studied the points you treat; and who are often 
 misled by prejudices which fall away, while your instructions 
 take place in every mind capable of distinguishing truth from 
 falsehood. Upon the whole, permit me to say, I never saw a 
 treatise which gave me so much pleasure and information. 
 You show yoiirself qualified by nature for the charge of first 
 minister ; how far that would recommend you to a minister I 
 think problematic. I am beginning to read over your work a 
 second time; my approbation increases as 1 go on; the so- 
 lidity of your reflections would overbalance a defect in style, if 
 there was any, but I sincerely find none. The nervous manner 
 in which you write is infinitely preferable to the florid phrases, 
 which are always improper in a book of this nature, which is 
 not designed to move the passions but to convince the reason. 
 
 I ought to say a great deal for the honour you have done 
 me in your dedication. Lord Burleigh, or even Julius Caesar, 
 would have been proud of it ; I can have no pretence to de- 
 serve it, yet I may truly say, nobody can be more sensible of 
 the value of your present. It is pity the world should be 
 deprived of the advantage of so useful a performance ; yet 
 perhaps it may be necessary to wait some time before you 
 publish certain truths that are not yet popularly received. 
 
 I hope our dear Lady Fanny is in good health, and your 
 young gentleman daily improving both by nature and in- 
 struction. I flatter myself that your affairs will soon take a 
 more agreeable turn. Wherever you are, I wish you every 
 happiness ; and wherever I am, you will ever have a faithful 
 humble servant, engaged both by inclination and obligation to 
 be always at your command. 
 
 N.B. This letter indorsed thus by Sir James Steuart himself: " On receiving a 
 MS., neatly bound and gilt, of the two first books of my Pol. Economy, with a de- 
 dication to her ladyship." 
 
MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 377 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 
 Venice, April 7, 1760. 
 
 I HAVE now with great pleasure, and I flatter myself with 
 some improvement, read over again your deHghtful and in- 
 structive treatise ; you have opened to me several truths of 
 which I had before only a confused idea. I confess I cannot 
 help being a little vain of comprehending a system that is cal- 
 culated only for a thinking mind, and cannot be tasted without 
 a willingness to lay aside many prejudices which arise from 
 education and the conversation of people no vriser than our- 
 selves. I do not only mean my own sex when I speak of our 
 confined way of reasoning ; there are very many of yours as 
 incapable of judging otherwise than they have been early 
 taught, as the most ignorant milkmaid : nay, I believe a girl 
 out of a village or a nursery more capable of receiving in- 
 struction than a lad just set free from the university. It is 
 not difficult to write on blank paper, but 'tis a tedious if not an 
 impossible task to scrape out nonsense already written, and 
 put better sense in the place of it. Mr. Steuart is very happy 
 to be under the direction of a father who will not suffer him 
 to entertain errors at an age when 'tis hard to distinguish 
 them. I often look back on my past hfe in the Hght in 
 which old Montaigne considered it; it is, perhaps, a more 
 useful study than it is generally imagined. Mr. Locke, who has 
 made the best dissection of the human mind &f any author I 
 have ever read, declares that he has drawn all his observations 
 from reflecting on the progression of his own ideas. It is true 
 a very small proportion of knowledge is allowed ns in this 
 world, few tniths permitted, but those truths are plain ; they 
 may be overseen or artfully obscured from our sight, but when 
 pointed out to us, it is impossible to resist the conviction that 
 accompanies them. I am persuaded your manuscript would 
 have the same effect on every candid reader it has on me : but 
 I am afraid their number is very small. 
 
 I think the omission you desire in the act of indemnity can- 
 not fail of happening; I shall take every opportunity of 
 putting people of my acquaintance in mind of it : at present, 
 
378 CORRESPONDENCE WITH , 
 
 the real director' (at least of home affairs) is a countryman of 
 yours ; but you know there are certain circumstances that 
 may disincline from meddling in some nice matters. I am 
 always with gratitude and the truest esteem, both to Lady 
 Frances and yourself, a faithful humble servant. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 April 15 [25, ? 1760]. 
 
 My dear Ohilc, — I am very uneasy at hearing nothing 
 from you or General G-. [Graham], being told he has been 
 arrived near a month. I do not doubt his first visit was to 
 you, having given him a letter which I desired him to deHver 
 vnth all speed. Perhaps I was more frightened than I need 
 to be when I wrote it. All weaknesses appear, as they in- 
 crease, with age. I am afraid all human-kind are bom vnth 
 the seeds of them, though they may be totally concealed, and 
 consequently considerably lessened, by education and phi- 
 losophy. I have endeavoured to study and correct myself; 
 and as courage was the favourite virtue in my early youth, I 
 studied to seem void of fear, and I beHeve was rather esteemed 
 foolhardv. 
 
 I am now grown timorous, and incHned to low spirits, 
 whatever you may hear to the contrary. My cheerfulness is 
 like the fire kindled in brushwood, which makes a show, but is 
 soon turned to cold ashes. I do not, like Madame Maintenon, 
 grieve at the decay which is allotted to all mortals, but would 
 vnUingly excuse to you the heat that was in my last. I would 
 by no means have you give the least uneasuaess to your father. 
 At his time of life the mind should be vacant and quiet. As 
 for the rest, let Providence as it wiU dispose of your most 
 affectionate mother. 
 
 You may be surprised I sent you no token by the general. 
 
 • Lord Mansfield is probably here alluded to. He was a member of the cabinet 
 during the last years of George the Second's reign, and supposed to have great in- 
 fluence with the Duke of Newcastle, the nominal head of that administration. 
 The circumstances of his having been himself attached on the score of early Jaco- 
 bitism, might make him cautious of appearing to protect persona in Sir J. Steuart's 
 situation. — W. 
 
MR. WOETLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 379 
 
 To say truth, he was in so ill a state of health, I was afraid he 
 should die on the road. I shall be more expUcit in my next. 
 
 My sincere good wishes to Lord Bute, and blessing to all 
 yoiirs. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Venice, May 9, 1760. 
 
 My deae Child must forgive me if I load her with letters. 
 I confess I am so uneasy at the silence of General Graham and 
 yours, that I have little peace of mind. I sent by him a letter 
 of great importance to me. I am told he is arrived two posts 
 ago. I have no notice from him that he has seen you, or from 
 you that you have received my scrawl, which, perhaps, you 
 think very impertinent. I cannot suppose he has not seen 
 you, after so many promises to make you his first visit. I will 
 not fancy you are sick, and only imagine you may misappre- 
 hend my design in writing. I thank God I can live here in a 
 quiet retirement. I am very far from any view beyond tran- 
 quillity ; and if I have been so weak to be vexed at the inis- 
 behaviour of a fool, I desire not his ruin, and much less that 
 he should be preferred, which will subject me to the same ill 
 usage by whatever successor he is appointed. I am informed 
 he gives poUtical reasons for his conduct towards me, which, if 
 true, I ought to pardon him by all the maxims of modem 
 ethics. I am ever, my dearest child, 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 My compliments to Lord Bute, and blessing to all yours. 
 
 If you have not already sent my letter to yoiu* father, I 
 desire you would not do it. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Nov. 18, 1760. 
 
 I GIVE you thanks, my dear child, for your information of 
 the death of the king. You may imagine how I am affected 
 by it. I will not trouble you in this busy time with a long 
 letter. I do not doubt you are sufficiently tormented by pre- 
 tensions and petitions. I hope you will not forget poor Mr. 
 
380 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 Anderson; and I desire Lord Bute to take care that Sir 
 James Steuart's name is not excluded in the act of indem- 
 nity. This is a very small favour, yet it -will make the happi- 
 ness of a man of great merit. 
 
 My health is very precarious ; may yours long continue, and 
 the prosperity of your family. I bless God I have lived to see 
 you so well established, and am ready to sing my Nunc dimittis 
 with pleasirre. 
 
 I own I could wish that we had a minister here who I had 
 not reason to suspect would plunder my house if I die while 
 he is in authority. General Graham is exceedingly infirm, 
 and also so easily imposed on, that whatever his intentions 
 may be, he is incapable of protecting anybody. You will 
 (perhaps) laugh at these apprehensions, since whatever happens 
 in this world after our death is certainly nothing to us. It 
 may be thought a fantastic satisfaction, but I confess I cannot 
 help being earnestly desirous that what I leave may fall into 
 your hands. Do not so far mistake me as to imagine I would 
 have the present M. [Minister] removed by advancement, which 
 would have the sure consequence of my suffering, if possible, 
 more impertinence from his successor. 
 
 My dear child, I am ever your most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 
 Venice, Nov. 20, 1760. 
 
 Sir, — I will not trouble you with a long letter ; this is only 
 to let you know that as soon as my daughter informed me of 
 the late great event, I immediately put her in mind of your 
 affairs in the warmest manner. I do not doubt it will have 
 the effect I wish. Your interest is one of the most consider- 
 able to myself, being with the strongest ties of esteem and 
 gratitude, sir, 
 
 Your most obliged and faithful humble servant. 
 
 I hope Lady Fanny and your young gentleman are in per- 
 fect health. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 381 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE. 
 
 Venice, Nov. 26 [1760]. . 
 
 My dear Child, — I am afraid you will think me very 
 troublesome, and that I do not enough consider the various 
 duties you are now obhged to. Indeed, I am thoroughly sen- 
 sible you have Uttle time to throw away, but I am (privately) 
 soHcited to mention a thing to you, which, in my opinion, I 
 ought not to omit. 
 
 The senate have appointed two procurators of St. Mark to 
 compliment his majesty on his accession. They are of the 
 first families here, Contarini and Morosini, and are neither of 
 them married. Madam Capello has been so ridiculous, both 
 at London and Rome, I believe they will not often send am- 
 bassadresses. These cavaliers are of such a character as will 
 do honour to their country : they are vastly rich, and desirous 
 to show their magnificence in the court of England. They 
 apprehend (I know not why) that they shall be thanked and 
 not permitted to come. I am far from a politician, God 
 knows, but it seems to me, both in public and private life, 
 civilities should never be refused, when they are sincerely 
 meant as proofs of respect. I have no personal interest in this 
 affair, nor can receive any advantage from their embassy, but 
 an opportunity of sending some trifles to my granddaughter, 
 which I hoped to do by Lord Titchfield, who has been long at 
 Turin. I am now told he will not take Venice in his road, 
 when he returns to London. 
 
 I am sorry to tell you I fear General Graham is in a de- 
 cUning state of health. I suppose you know poor Mr. Hamil- 
 ton is at Petersburg. I am ever, my dear child, 
 
 Your most affectionate mother. 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 
 From Venice, 25tli of January, 176t. 
 
 Sir, — I have not returned my thanks for your obhging 
 letter so soon as both duty and inclination prompted me ; but 
 I have had so severe a cold, accompanied with a weakness in 
 
382 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 my eyes, that I have been confined to my store for many days. 
 This is the first use I make of my pen. I will not engage in 
 a dispute with you, being very sure that I am unable to sup- 
 port it against you ; yet I own I am not entirely of your 
 opinion in relation to the civil list. I know it has long been 
 a custom to begin eveiy reign with some mark of the people's 
 love exceeding what was shown to the predecessor : I am glad 
 to see this distinguished by the trust and affection of the 
 king to his people, and am persviaded it will have a very- 
 good effect on all our affairs, foreign and domestic. It is 
 possible my daughter may have some partiality ; the character 
 of his present majesty needs only be half so perfect as she 
 describes it, to be such a monarch as has never existed but in 
 romances. Though I am preparing for my last and longest 
 journey, and stand on the threshold of this dirty world, my 
 several infirmities like post-horses ready to hurry me away, I 
 cannot be insensible to the happiness of my native country, 
 and am glad to see the prospect of a prosperity and harmony 
 that I never was witness to. I hope my friends will be in- 
 cluded in the public joy; and I shall always think Lady 
 Fanny and Sir James Steuart in the first rank of those I wish 
 to serve. Your conversation is a pleasure I would prefer to 
 any other, but I confess even that cannot make me desire to 
 be in London, especially at this time, when the shadow of 
 credit that I should be supposed to possess would attract 
 daily solicitations, and gain me a number of enemies, who 
 would never forgive me the not performing impossibilities. 
 If all people thought of power as I do, it would be avoided 
 with as much eagerness as it is now sought. I never knew 
 any person that had it who did not lament the load ; though 
 I confess (so infirm is human nature) they have all endea- 
 voured to retain it, at the same time they complained of it. 
 
 You are above any view of this kind. I hope every post 
 to hear news of your return to your native country, where 
 that you may long enjoy a happiness superior to any a court 
 can give, is the most ardent desire of, sir, 
 
 Your grateful and faithful humble servant. 
 
MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 383' 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 
 Venice, April 12, 1761. 
 
 SiK, — I received your obliging letter yesterday, and make 
 haste to answer it the first post. I am very sincere in assuring 
 you all your interests are mine, consequently I share with you 
 the concern you feel for Lady Fanny's disorders. You ob- 
 serve justly there is no happiness without an alloy, nor indeed 
 any misfortune without some mixture of consolation, if our 
 passions permitted us to perceive it ; but alas ! we are too im- 
 perfect to see on all sides ; our wisest reflections (if the word 
 wise may be given to humanity) are tainted by our hopes and 
 fears ; we all indulge views almost as extravagant as those of 
 Phaeton, and are angry when we do not succeed in projects 
 that are above the reach of mortality. The happiness of 
 domestic life seems the most laudable as it is certainly the 
 most delightful of our prospects, yet even that is denied, or at 
 least so mixed, " we think it not sincere, or fear it cannot . 
 last." A long series of disappointments have perhaps worn 
 out my natural spirits, and given a melancholy cast to my 
 way of thinking. I would not communicate this weakness to 
 any but yourself, who can have compassion even where your 
 superior understanding condemns. I confess that though I 
 am (it may be) beyond the strict bounds of reason pleased 
 with my Lord Bute's and my daughter's prosperity, I am 
 doubtful whether I will attempt to be a spectator of it. I 
 have so many years indulged my natural inclinations -to soli- 
 tude and reading, I am unwilling to return to crowds and 
 bustle, which would be unavoidable in London. The few 
 friends I esteemed are now no more : the new set of people 
 who fill the stage at present are too indifferent to me even to 
 raise my curiosity. I now begin to feel (very late, you'll say) 
 the worst effects of age, blindness excepted ; I am grown 
 timorous and suspicious ; I fear the inconstancy of that god- 
 dess so publicly adored in ancient Rome, and so heartily 
 inwardly worshipped in the modern. I retain, however, such 
 a degree of that uncommon thing called common sense, not 
 to trouble the felicity of my children with my foreboding 
 
384 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 dreams, which I hope will prove as idle as the croaking of 
 ravens, or the noise of that harmless animal distinguished by 
 the odious name of screech-owl. You will say why then do I 
 trouble you with my old wives' prophecies ? Need I tell you 
 that it is one of the privileges of friendship to talk of our own 
 follies and infirmities ? You must, then, nay you ought, to 
 pardon my tiresome tattle in consideration of the real attach- 
 ment vsdth which I am unalterably, sir, 
 
 Your obhged and faithful humble servant. 
 My best compHments to dear Lady Fanny, and congratula- 
 tions to the young gentleman. I do not doubt he is sorry to 
 leave her ; but if it be necessary for his advancement, you 
 will teach him to suffer it at least with patience. 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 
 July 22, 1761. 
 
 SiE, — I expect you should wish me joy on the good fortune 
 of a friend I esteem in the highest manner. I have always 
 preferred the interest of those I love to my own. You need 
 not doubt of my sincere affection towards the lady and young 
 gentleman you mention. My own affairs here grow worse 
 and worse ; my indiscreet well-wishers do me as much harm, 
 more harm than any declared enemy could do. The notable 
 plan of our great politician is to make me surrender my little 
 castle ; I, with the true spirit of old Whiggism, resolve to 
 keep my ground, though I starve in the maintaining it, or am 
 eat up by the wild beasts of the wood, meaning gnats and 
 flies. A word to the wise ; you understand me. You may 
 have heard of a facetious gentleman vulgarly called Tom 
 Earle, i. e. Giles Earle,^ Esq. His toast was always — 
 
 " God bless you, whatever becomes of me 1" 
 
 The day -when hungry friar wishes, 
 He might eat other food than fishes, 
 Or, to explain the date more fully. 
 The twenty-second instant July. 
 
 • A lord of the Treasury. See Honourable Horace Walpole's Letters to Sir 
 Horace Mann, Dec. 16, 1741, for an account of a debate and a dirision upon the 
 occasion of the election of the chairman of the committees of the House of Com- 
 mons, in which some account of this gentleman is to be found. — W. 
 
MR. WORTLET MONTAOU AND OTHERS. 385 
 
 TO SIR JAMES AND LADY FRANCES STEUART. 
 
 [Indorsed, " Oct. 1st, 1761, Augsburg, on her way from Venice to England; 
 received 3rd of Nov."] 
 
 Madam and Sir, — I am now part of my way to England, 
 where I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you : it is so long 
 since I have heard from you, I cannot guess where you are. I 
 venture this to Tubingen, though I fancy two letters I have 
 directed thither have miscarried, and am so uncertain of the 
 fate of this I know not what to say. I think I cannot err in 
 repeating a sincere truth, that I am, and ever shall be, faith- 
 fully. Your most humble servant. 
 
 Since I wrote the above, I am told I may go by Wurtem- 
 berg to Frankfort. I will then take that road in hopes of 
 seeing you. 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 
 Rotterdam, Nov. 20, 1761. 
 
 Sir, — I received yesterday your obliging and welcome letter 
 by the hands of Mr. Simpson. I tried in vain to find you at 
 Amsterdam ; I began to think we resembled two parallel lines, 
 destined to be always near and never to meet. You know 
 there is no fighting (at least no overcoming) destiny. So far 
 I am a confirmed Calvinist, according to the notions of the 
 country where I now exist. I am dragging my ragged rem- 
 nant of life to England. The wind and tide are against me ; 
 how far I have strength to struggle against both I know not ; 
 that I am arrived here is as much a miracle as any in the 
 golden legend ; and if I had foreseen half the difl5culties I 
 have met with, I should not certainly have had courage to un- 
 dertake it. I have scrambled through more dangers than his 
 M. of P. [His Majesty of Prussia], or even my well-beloved 
 cousin (not counsellor) Marquis Gran by;' but my spirits fail 
 me when I think of my friends risking either health or happi- 
 ness. I will write to Lady Fanny to hinder your coming to 
 Rotterdam, and will sooner make one jump more myself to wait 
 
 ' Lord Granby married the daughter of Charles sixth Duke of Somerset, by his 
 wife the yonugest daughter Daniel of Earl of "Winchilaea and Nottingham; whose 
 wife was the daughter of Basil Earl Fielding and Lady Mary's first cousin. — W. 
 
 VOL. II. 2 C 
 
386 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 on you at Antwerp. I am glad poor D. has sold his medals. 
 I confess 1 thought his buying them a very bold stroke.' I 
 supposed that he had already left London, but am told that he 
 has been prevented by the machinations of that excellent poli- 
 tician and truly great man, M. [Murray], and his ministry. 
 
 My dear Lady Fanny, I am persuaded that you are more 
 nearly concerned for the health of Sir James than he is him- 
 self. I address myself to you, to insist on it to him, not to 
 undertake a winter progress in the beginning of a fit of the 
 gout. 
 
 I am nailed down here by a severe illness of my poor 
 Marianne,' who has not been able to endure the frights and 
 fatigues that we have passed. If I live to see G-. Britain, you 
 will have there a sincere and faithful servant that will omit no 
 occasion of serving you; and I think it almost impossible I 
 should not succeed. You must be loved and esteemed wherever 
 you are known. Give me leave, however, dear madam, to 
 combat some of your notions, or, more properly speaking, your 
 passions. Mr. Steuart is in a situation that opens the fairest 
 prospect of honour and advancement. We mothers are all 
 apt to regret the absence of children we love : Solomon ad- 
 vises the sluggard to go to the ant and be wise : v^e should take 
 the example of the innocent inhabitants of the air ; when their 
 young are fledged, they are delighted to see them fly and peck 
 for themselves. Forgive this freedom. I have no other re- 
 ceipt for maternal fondness, a distemper which has long 
 afflicted 
 
 Your ladyship's obliged and obedient humble servant. 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 
 Rotterdam, Dec. 12, 1761. 
 
 I RECEIVED last post your agreeable and obUging letter. I 
 am now on the point of setting out for London ; very dubious 
 (v?ith my precarious state of health) whether I shall arrive 
 there. If I do, you will certainly hear from -me again ; if not, 
 accept ('tis all I can offer) my sincerest wishes for the pro- 
 
 ' Her servant, Mary Anne Smith, called in Lady Mary's mil Fromenta. — T. 
 
MU. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 387 
 
 sperity of yoiirself and family. I do not at all despair of your 
 affairs going according to your desire, though I am. not ordained 
 the happiness to see it. My warmest compliments to Lady F., 
 and believe me ever, sir. 
 
 Your faithful friend and humble servant. 
 Behold ! a hard impenetrable frost has stopped my voyage, 
 and I remain in the disagreeable state of uncertainty. I will 
 not trouble you with my fruitless complaints : I am sure you 
 have compassion for my present situation. 
 
 TO LADY FRANCES STEUART. 
 
 Rotterdam, Dec, 1761. 
 
 My deab Madam, — A great snow, weak sight, trouble of 
 mind, and a feeble body, are more than sufficient excuses for 
 a short letter ; yet I would not omit a few lines to give you 
 thanks for yours, and repeat to you my real desire to serve 
 you in the most zealous manner. Any relation of Sir James 
 wiU find a hearty welcome from me when I am in London. I 
 now depend on wind and weather ; you know how disagreeable 
 that is. I will not afflict your good heart with my uneasinesses. 
 I hope (and am determined to hope) the best, though in con- 
 tradiction to appearances. In all humours I am 
 
 Your ladyship's faithful humble servant. 
 
 P.S. My dear Lady Fanny, we are both low-spirited ; let 
 us talk no more of melancholy matters. I should be glad to 
 know the adventure of Sir James with the Countess B., and 
 am sometimes tempted to seek her out, in hopes to edify by 
 her discourse and example. 
 
 TO SIR JAMES STEUART. 
 
 Rotterdam, Dec. 26, 1761. 
 
 Sir, — The thaw is now so far advanced I am in great hopes 
 of moving in a few days. My first care at London will be 
 your affairs : I think it almost impossible I should not succeed. 
 You may assure Lady Fanny no endeavour shall be wanting 
 on my side : if I find any material objection I shall not fail 
 to let you know it ; I confess I do not foresee any. A young 
 
 2 c 2 
 
388 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 
 
 gentleman arrived here last night, who is perhaps of your ac- 
 quaintance — Mr. Hamilton ; he is hastening to London in ex- 
 pectation of an act of grace, which I beUeve will be granted. 
 I flatter myself with the view of seeing you in England, and 
 can affirm with truth it is one of the greatest pleasures I 
 expect there. Whatever prosperity my family now enjoys, it 
 will add much to my happiness to see my friends easy ; and 
 while you are unfortunate I shall always think myself so. 
 This very dull weather operates on my spirits, though I use 
 my utmost efforts to support them : I beg dear Lady Fanny 
 to do the same ; a melancholy state of mind should never be 
 indulged, since it often remains even when the cause of it is 
 removed. I have here neither amusement nor conversation, 
 and am so infected by the climate, that I verily believe, was 
 I to stay long, I should take to smoking and drinking, like the 
 natives. I should wish you the compliments of the season — a 
 merry Christmas — but I know not how to do it, whUe you 
 remain in so disagreeable an uncertainty ; yet if you have the 
 company of Mr. Steuart, his bloom of life will insensibly 
 communicate part of his gaiety. If I could have foreseen 
 my stay in this part of the world, I would have made a trip to 
 Antwerp to enjoy a conversation ever honoured and remem- 
 bered by, sir and madam. 
 
 Your most faithful and obedient humble servant. 
 
 TO LADY FRANCES STEUART. 
 
 Rotterdam, Jan. 2, 17G2. 
 
 I HAVE been half way to Helvoet, and was obliged to turn 
 back by the mountains of sea that obstructed our passage ; the 
 captain, however, gives me hopes of setting out in two or three 
 days. I have had so many disappointments I can scarce en- 
 tertain the flattering thought of arriving in London. Wherever 
 I am, you. may depend upon it, dear madam, I shall ever 
 retain the warmest sentiments of good will for you and your 
 family, and will use my utmost endeavours to give you better 
 proofs of it than I can do by expressions, which will always 
 fall short of my thovights. 
 
MK. WORTLEY MONTAGU AND OTHERS. 389 
 
 Many happy new years to you, madam. May this atone for 
 the ill fortune of those that are past, and all those to come be 
 cheerful. Mr. Hamilton, whom I mentioned, has, I believe, 
 got a particular pardon ; his case is extraordinary, having no 
 relation to public affairs. I am sorry for poor Duff, and fear 
 that wherever he moves there will be little difference in his 
 situation ; he carries with him such a load of indiscretion, it is 
 hardly in the power of Fortune to serve him. We are crowded 
 with officers of all ranks returning to England. The peace 
 seems to be more distant than ever : it would be very indif- 
 ferent to me if it did not affect my friends ; my remaining 
 time in this world is so short, I have few wishes to make for 
 myself, and when I am free from pain ought to think myself 
 happy. 
 
 It is uncommon at my age to have no distemper, and to 
 retain all my senses in their first degree of perfection. I 
 should be unworthy of these blessings if I did not acknow- 
 ledge them. If I am so fortunate to see your ladyship and Sir 
 James in good health at London, it will be a great addition to 
 the satisfaction of, dear madam. 
 
 Your faithful and obedient humble servant. 
 
 TO LADY FRANCES STEUAKT. 
 
 Great George-street, Hanover-square, March 5, 1762. 
 
 Dear Madam, — I have written several letters to your lady- 
 ship, but I perceive by that I had the honour to receive yes- 
 terday they have all miscarried. I can assign no reason 
 for it, but the uncertainty of the post. I am told many mails 
 have been taken, and the letters either thrown away or sup- 
 pressed. We must suffer this, amongst the common calamities 
 of war. Our correspondence is so innocent, we have no 
 reason to apprehend our secrets being discovered. 
 
 I am proud to make public profession of being, dear madam, 
 ever 
 
 Your most faithful humble servant. 
 
 In writing to you, I think I write to your whole family ; I 
 hope they think so too. 
 
390 CORRESPONDENCE WITH MR. WORTLEY MONTAGU, ETC. 
 
 TO LADY FRANCES STEUART. 
 
 George-street, Hanover-square, April 23, 1762. 
 
 Believe me, dear madam, I see my daughter often, and 
 never see her without mentioning (in the warmest manner) 
 your affairs. I hope that when the proper season arrives (it 
 cannot now be far off), all things will he adjusted to your satis- 
 faction. It is the greatest pleasure I expect in the wretched 
 remnant of life remaining to, dear madam, 
 
 Your faithful humble servant. 
 
 My sincere best wishes to all your ladyship's family. 
 
 TO LADY FRANCES STEUART. 
 [Indorsed " Lady Mary's last letter from London."] 
 
 July i, 1762. 
 
 Dear Madam, — ^I have been ill a long time, and am now 
 so bad I am Httle capable of writing, but I would not pass in 
 your opinion as either stupid or ungrateful. My heart is 
 always warm in your service, and I am always told your 
 affairs shall be taken care of. You may depend, dear madam, 
 nothing shall be wanting on the part of 
 
 Your ladyship's faithful humble servant. 
 
THE 
 
 ENCHIRIDION OF EPICTETUS. 
 
 [The Editor has been induced to print this Translation of the Enchiridion of 
 Epictetus, by Lady Marj' Pierrepont, as a great literary curiosity, no less than on 
 account of its' intrinsic merit. When she presented it to Bishop Burnet, for his 
 emendations, she was scarcely twenty years old, and at so early an age had 
 merited a place among the learned English ladies of quality. Her pretensions are 
 not invalidated, even should it be thought that her Translation is of the Latin 
 version rather than of the Greek original. — Bishop Burnet's corrections are printed 
 in italics. — W.] 
 
EPICTETI ENCHIRIDION.' 
 
 CHAP. I, 
 
 Ceetain things are in our power, there are others that are not. 
 Opinion, appetite, desire, aversion, are in our power, and in one 
 word, whatsoever we act ourselves. Our bodies, wealth,'/ame, 
 and command, are noj in our power ; and, finally, all things which 
 we do not act. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Those things which obey us, are really free in their own nature, 
 neither can any one deprive us of them, nor prohibit us the use of 
 them ; but those things over which we have no power, are subject 
 to servitude and to other impediments. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Therefore remember, if you think those things to be free which, 
 in their own nature are subject to power, and look upon the goods 
 of others to be your own, you will be deprived of them, you will 
 lament, be disordered, and accuse both gods and men of injustice. 
 But if you only esteem those things to be your own which are 
 really so, and those to belong to others, which are subject to the 
 power of others, nobody will ever deprive you of them, nobody 
 will hinder you in the use of them ; you will exclaim against 
 nobody, you will blame nobody, you will do nothing by force, no- 
 body will hurt you, and you will have no enem}'. Neither will 
 you ever look upon anything as a misfortune. 
 
 CHAP. IT. 
 
 When therefore you desire anything very earnestly, remember 
 so to undertake it, that you may be to a good degree agitated, and 
 that you do utterly abandon things of one kind, and omit other 
 
 ' See Lady Mary's letter to BiBhop Bnrnet which accoinp.inied this translation, 
 ante, p. 2. — T. 
 
394 ENCHIRIDION. 
 
 thing.i. Por if you both pursue these, and at the same time do very 
 much wish power or richea, or the raising of your family, perhaps, 
 in the too eager pursuit, you will not attain them through the 
 eagerness of desire, and moat certainly you will entirely lose those 
 things by which only true happiness and liberty is obtained.' 
 
 CHAP. T. 
 
 If any misfortune seems to have happened to you, endeavour to 
 be able presently to make this reflection — this seems to be un- 
 happy, it may not be so, to the degree it seems : upon further in- 
 quiry, make use of those rules that you have, especially this first 
 and greatest, think whether is this thing subject to your power or 
 that of another ? If to another, the answer follows — it does not 
 touch you at all. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Desire always promises to us the end of our desire, and aversion 
 flatters us ; we shall never fall into what we hate ; he that hearkens 
 to these flatteries, is unhappy when he is frustrated of his wishes, 
 or miserable, if what he is averse to happens to him. But if you 
 are only averse to those thinga in your power to hinder, nothing 
 vein ever happen cross to you ; but if you place your aversion on 
 sickness, death, or poverty, it ia in the power of fortune to make 
 you wretched. 
 
 CHAP. TII. 
 
 Eemove therefore from yourself all aversion to things that are 
 not placed in your own power, and transfer it to those things which 
 in their nature are subject to your government. But especially 
 subdue your wishes, for if you desire things out of your power, of 
 course, you will not be disappointed, for those things that obey 
 our wills, although they may be justly sought, you have not yet 
 learned after what manner they may reasonably be sought. But 
 even pursue them with such a temper of mind that you may 
 obtain, or quit them easily, and without disturbance of trouble. 
 
 CHAP. Till. 
 
 All things which are pursued serve either to use, or pleasure. 
 Hemeraber to consider of what nature they are, beginning from 
 
 ■ In order to show that Lady Mary Pierrepont did not translate ignorantly this 
 dubious passage, it may be worthy observation, that the correction made by the 
 bishop is the translation of a diiFerent reading, adopted by the learned commentator 
 Simplicius; — consult Wolfii Annotat. in Enchiridion Epicteti, in cap. 4. — W. 
 
ENCHIRIDION. 395 
 
 the very least of thy wishes. If you love a vase, love it as a vase, 
 and if it is broke, do not disturb yourself; if a little son or a 
 wife, love it as a human thing, for then if it dies you will not 
 be troubled. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 "Whatever you are going to undertake, think within yourself of 
 what kind that thing is. If you go to wash, figure to yourself 
 what they do in the bath. Some are dashed with the water, some 
 are driven from their places, some are reproached, and others are 
 robbed. So you will not safely enter upon the business, if you 
 say to yourself I shall presently wash, and I shall keep my mind 
 in its ordinary temper. Observe the same rule in every under- 
 taking, for BO whatever hindrance you may meet with in your 
 washing, it will presently come into your thoughts. This is not 
 exactly what I would have it, but I will go on in my business in 
 the manner as agreeable to the nature of the thing and my own 
 design. But if I suffer impatiently what is done, I hinder myself 
 in the execution of what I intend. 
 
 OHAP. X. 
 
 It is not real things that disturb the minds of men, but the 
 opinions that they have of things. For instance, death is no evil 
 in itself, or so it woidd have seemed to Socrates, but it is the 
 opinion we conceive of death renders it an evil. When therefore 
 we are disappointed or disturbed, let us accuse nobody but our- 
 selves ; that is, our own opinions. A fool condemns others for 
 his own misfortunes ; he that is half-witted accuses only himself, 
 but the wise man neither complains of himself nor others. 
 
 OHAP. XI. 
 
 Be not pleased with any outward good that you enjoy. If a 
 horse should say boasting, I am handsome, it would be suffer- 
 able ; but for you to boast you have a handsome horse, know you 
 boast of your horse's good qualities. "What merit, therefore, does 
 that give to you ? Tour merit is only iu the use of those goods 
 fortune has given you ; only then boast yourself when you use 
 what you have in the best and properest manner, for then you 
 boast yourself of an excellency that is properly and really your 
 own. 
 
 CHAJ. XII. 
 
 As when a ship is at anchor, it is excusable in a passenger to 
 
39(5 ENCHIRIDION. 
 
 amuse himself with gathering shells and herbs by the sea-side ; 
 yet he ought always to have hia miud fixed upon the ship, and be 
 careful to be ready when the master of the ship calls to him 
 to proceed in his voyage, that he may presently leave you all, 
 and not be hurried unwillingly back to his vessel as a sheep bound 
 and dragged to the slaughter. So it is in life, if instead of a shell 
 or an herb, a little wife or a son be given you for amusement, they 
 must not stop you ; and if the master calls, run back to the ship, 
 leaving all them things, neither look behind you. If you are an 
 old man, beware ever to be long from the ship, lest when you are 
 called you should not be ready. 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 Do not desire that everything should happen after your fancy, 
 but if you are wise, make all things that happen agreeable to your 
 fancy. Sickness is a disturbance to the body, but not the same 
 to the mind, except you will have it so yourself. Lameness is a 
 trouble to the feet, but none to the soul. The same maxim is just 
 in all circumstances, if you consider whatever happens, nothing 
 can happen that truly touches the mind. 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Whatsoever happens, presently consult with your own thoughts 
 how far it lies in your own power to make it useful to you. If your 
 desires are excited by any beautiful man or woman, the tempering 
 of those desires are immediately in your power. If bodily labour 
 is imposed on you, a quiet sufferance may lessen the pain ; if you 
 are innocently reproached, patience comes in to your rescue. If 
 you accustom yourself to this turn of thought, you are beyond 
 the power of all false conceptions. 
 
 CHAP. XT. 
 
 Never say you have lost anything, but restored it to the giver. 
 Is your son dead ? He is restored. Is your farm taken from 
 you ? Is not that also restored ? But he is a villain that has 
 defrauded you of it. "What is that to thee, whom it is the Great 
 Bestower has employed to take it back from thee ? As long as 
 he permits thee the use of them, look upon them not as thy otvn, but 
 as the traveller does the conveniences he makes use of in an inn. 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 If you study your own happiness, leave off all these kind of 
 
ENCHIRIDION. 397 
 
 tbouglits : If I neglect my estate, I'sliall have nothing to live on. 
 If I do not chastise my servant, I shall be ill-served. It is better 
 to perish with hunger, free from care and trouble, than to live in 
 universal plenty with a troubled miud ;- and it is better your 
 servant be bad, than you unhappy, in too solicitous a watchfulness 
 over him. 
 
 CHAP. iTir. 
 Begin to govern your passions in the smallest things. Is your 
 oil spilt ? Is your wine stolen from you ? Submit with patience — 
 say to yourself, at this rate do I purchase tranquillity and constancy 
 of mind. Why, there is nothing acquired without labour. When 
 you call your servant, imagine that he may be out of the way, or 
 employed in something you will all have him do. But do not 
 make him so great as to have it in his power to give you disturb- 
 ance. 
 
 Chap, xtiii. 
 If you would be really wise, neglect outward and superfluous 
 things, though you may be looked upon as mad, or a fool, for so 
 doing. Be not over-forward to appear learned, and if you should 
 be thought so by others, distrust yourself, and the praises that are 
 given you. Know it is no easy thing in your situation in the 
 world, to preserve your mind in the temper it ought to be, and yet 
 to pursue external goods or pleasures, it is impossible to be done, 
 but that you must in some degree neglect either the one or the 
 other. 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 If you endeavour that your children, wife, and friends, should 
 live and prosper for ever, you lecome ridiculous, for they are not 
 in your power, and you will have those things to be under your 
 command, which are subject to fortune ; in the same manner if 
 you wish your servant faultless, you are a fool, you wish against 
 the nature of the thing, and what can never be. But if you will 
 not be disappointed, desire only what is within your power. En- 
 deavour therefore what is in your power to perform. 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 He is the master of a man who has it in his power to preseive, 
 or taTce from him those things that he desires or is averse to. Who- 
 soever, therefore, desires to be perfectly free, must never wish for 
 
398 ENCHIRIDION. 
 
 nor dislike any of those things under the command of another, 
 otherwise he must be a slave. 
 
 CHAP. XXI. 
 
 Remember to behave yourself in life as you vfould at a public 
 entertainment. If a dish is proffered to you, take your share 
 modestly. If it passes by you, do not stop it. If it does not 
 presently come to your turn, fall into no impatience ; but wait till 
 it is brought to you. In this manner wish not over-earnestly for 
 whatever moves your desire : whether children, a wife, or power, 
 or riches, for so thou shalt at last be worthy to feast with the 
 gods. But when these pleasures are offered, if you do not only 
 refuse but despise them, you will not be only worthy of partaking 
 the joys of the gods, but sharing their power, for so did Diogenes, 
 Heraclitus, and others, and they merited to he called divine persons, 
 as they were indeed. 
 
 CHAP. XXII. 
 
 When you see any one weeping, and in grief, whether for part- 
 ing with his son, or the loss of his goods, be not so far moved by 
 this object as to esteem those things that have happened to him 
 real evils, but consider with thyself, and it will presently come 
 into thy mind, it is not the thing itself aiflicts this man, but the 
 opinion he has conceived of it, for another person would not he 
 so afflicted for it. However, endeavour to alleviate his troubles by 
 your discourse, and if the thing deserves it, groan with him ; but 
 take care that you he not inwardly grieved. 
 
 CHAP. XXIII. 
 
 Eemember so to act your part upon this stage, as to be ap- 
 proved by the master, whether it be a short or a long one, that he 
 has given you to perform. If he will have you to represent a 
 beggar, endeavour to act that well ; and so, a lame man, a prince, 
 or a plebeian. It is your part to perform well what you represent ; 
 it is his to choose what that shall be. 
 
 CHAP. XXIV. 
 
 If you hear an inauspicious crow croak, be not moved at the 
 omen ; but say within yourself, the evil this threatens cannot hurt 
 my mind, it must either fall upon my own body, my estate, my 
 reputation, my children, or my wife ; this may, however, portend 
 good to me if I please, for whatsoever shall happen to any of these, 
 it is in my power to draw an advantage from it. 
 
ENCHIRIDION. 399 
 
 CHAP IXV. 
 
 Tou will be invincible if you engage in no strife, where you are 
 not sure that it is in your power to conquer. 
 
 CHAP. XXTI. 
 
 If you see any man affected with his great titles, or an ample 
 estate, or any other prosperity, call not him happy, upon the 
 opinion that happiness consists in outward things. If thou place 
 thy felicity in these things, subject only to yourself, there will be 
 no room in thy breast for either emulation or envy. Tou will not 
 desire to be a senator, a consul, or an emperor, hut a fbee man. 
 To this freedom there is but one way, the contempt of all things 
 that are not in our own power. 
 
 CHAP. XXVII. 
 
 Eemember that it is not he who slanders or leats you, who is 
 guilty of the contumely, but the opinion you conceive of it as a 
 thing truly reproachful. When any one raises your anger, know 
 it is only the opinion you have of the affront that provokes you ; 
 therefore, in the first place, take care that outward appearances do' 
 not impose u,pon you, and force your assent to them ; if you can 
 get time and delay, you will more easily have the power over your- 
 self. 
 
 CHAP, xxvrii. 
 
 Place daily before your eyes, death, exile, and all things that 
 are accounted evils, but of all chiefly death. So you will never 
 have mean thoughts, or an eager desire for anything. 
 
 CHAP. XXIX. 
 
 When you begin to undertake the study of wisdom, imagine 
 that you shall be ridiculed, that many will laugh at you, that they 
 will say. Whence proceeds this new fancy to be a philosopher ? 
 Whence this piece of supercilious pride ? But let not your 
 behaviour be haughty, but continue in that practice which seems 
 the best, as if God had placed you in the station you are in ; and 
 be assured if you continue to preserve that character, even those 
 that ridiculed you at first will be your admirers ; but if their 
 censures make you sinh under them, you will be a double jest to 
 them. 
 
 CHAP. XXX. 
 
 If it happens that you must show yourself in the world, or to 
 
400 ENCHIRIDION. 
 
 approve yourself to another, do not think that you are to depart 
 from your own character. Let it be glory enough for you, that 
 you are a philosopher ; appear so to yourself, and be not solicitous 
 to be thought so by any other. 
 
 CHAP. XXXI. 
 
 Never let these considerations give you disquiet, that you live 
 without any title, and that you have no great post in the world : 
 if to want honour be an evil, there is no greater evil than vice ; and 
 it is better to suffer an evil from fortune than your own faults. 
 Does it helong to your station to gain an empire ? Or to he called 
 to a feast ? Not at all. "Where then is the shame of being with- 
 out these things ? "Why should you be said to be in no esteem, 
 whereas you ought to distinguish yourself only iy those things that 
 are in your own power, and these you may arrive at in the highest 
 degree. But you can be no way serviceable to your friends. Which 
 way do you take this ? Tou have no money to give them ; you 
 cannot make them citizens of Eome. These are things out of 
 your power, and are gifts of fortune. But how can one help 
 another to what he wants himself? Obtain these goods, therefore, 
 (say some) that you may bestow them on us. If I am able to obtain 
 these advantages, with the preservation of my modesty, my faith, 
 and the greatness of my soul, and you can show me the way to it, 
 I will endeavour to obtain them ; but if you require me to lose 
 my own proper goods, that I may obtain for you things that are 
 not simply good in themselves, see of how unjust and rash an 
 action you are guilty I Which would you rather wish for, money, 
 or a modest and honest friend ? Aid me in this — do not ask me 
 to do these things by which I shall lose these good characters ; but 
 thinlc, Can you make me of no use to my country ? They answer 
 me, of what use, I beseech you ? Tou can build neither porticos 
 nor baths, for the use of your country. But what of that ? The 
 blacksmith makes no shoes, nor the tailor arms; it is enough for 
 every one to do the duty of his statioti. A man that gives his 
 country a truly modest and honest citizen, is not useless. But 
 what place have I (perhaps you will say) in the city ? Whatever 
 post you are able to maintain without injuring your truth or mo- 
 desty ; but if you lay aside these on the design of serving your 
 country, of what real use can you he to it when you are become a 
 shameless avd perfidious person? 
 
ENCHIRIDION. 401 
 
 CHAP. XXXII. 
 
 la any one preferred to you at an entertainment, in salutations, 
 or in councils, and iliese are good things that happen to him, you 
 ought to congratulate him ; hut if they are on the contrary evil, 
 there is no occasion of being sorry that they did not happen to 
 you. Always remember, that when you do not things hy which that 
 which is not in your own power is to be acquired, you ought not to 
 loohfor them ; you that do not make your court to a man, nor flatter 
 him, ought not to expect to he used at the same rate with one who 
 maTces his court constantly, and is ever flattering him. For every 
 merchandise there is a price to be given. Have you a mind to 
 buy herhs, lay down your halfpenny ; for without laying down 
 your money, you will not have them : do not think you are worse 
 used than he who had them given ; he paid the price for them which 
 you did not; he has the herbs, and you have not paid for them. 
 Ton are not invited to an entertainment, it is because you have 
 not bought the invitation, which he who makes it, sells to those who 
 flatter him, and are obsequious to him. Give therefore the price it 
 is set at, if it is your interest to obtain the things. If you will 
 not pay the price, and yet receive the benefit, you are covetous, 
 and are as a man without sense. "Instead of a good supper, then 
 I have nothing. Tes ; you have the pleasure of knowing you have 
 not commended the man you disliked, nor endured his insolent 
 behaviour. 
 
 CHAP. XXXIII. 
 
 "We learn the nature of things by what is most common, and 
 happens equally to all the world. If a neighbour's boy breaks an 
 earthen cup, or any such thing, you will presently think this is an 
 usual accident ; you ought to think the same whenever that acci- 
 dent happens to yourself, as you did when it happened to vour 
 neighbour. Look upon greater misfortunes with the same measure. 
 If the son, or the wife, of another dies, everybody is ready to cry 
 out, it is the common fate of mortals ; but if their own dies, they 
 presently exclaim, Alas for me ! Wretch that I am ! People 
 ought to remember, on such occasions, how they were affected when 
 they heard of the like accidents that happened to their neighbours. 
 
 CHAP XXXIV. 
 
 As landmarks are not placed to lead travellers out of their way, 
 so neither has nature put evils into the world to lead them to 
 VOL. II. 2 D 
 
402 ENCHIRIDION. 
 
 teraptations : and it is every man's own fault that he makes them 
 so. Tou would disdain to have it in the power of every one you 
 meet, to beat or abuse your body ; do not you blush then to suifer 
 all men to disturb the quiet of your mind, and make you grieved 
 or angry whenever they please to speak ill of you ? Consider both 
 the beginnings and the consequences of everything before you un- 
 dertake it, otherwise you will begin many things cheerfully, with- 
 out having weighed what is to follow, that in the end, you will be 
 ashamed of. 
 
 CHAP. XXXV. 
 
 Would you overcome at the Olympic games? With all my 
 heart, the conquest is great and honourable. Consider wliat you 
 must endure before them, and what is -to come after, and with 
 tJiese thoughts undertake them. Tou must enter into a regular 
 way of life ; you must eat what is disagreeable, and abstain from 
 delicacies ; you must inure yourself to hard exercise, and excessive 
 heats and colds ; you must drink no cooling drinks, nor wine, as 
 at other times ; and finally, observe the orders of your fencing- 
 master, as if he was a doctor; at length, you must enter the 
 combat, sometimes your hands will be crushed, perhaps your feet 
 sprained, you may swallow great quantities of dust down your 
 throat, and be beaten and overcome after all this. Consider all 
 this, and if it yet pleases you, list yourself among the champions. 
 If you act in another manner, you act as boys. Now they play 
 the part of champions, sometimes q/" musicians, and sometimes of 
 gladiators; they sing to the pipe, and presently after represent 
 tragedies. With the same childish inconstancy, now you will be 
 a fighter, afterwards an orator, by-and-by a gladiator, and at 
 length a philosopher, like a monkey that imitates everything he 
 sees done. Tou will first love one thing and then another, and 
 nothing as you ought to do, /or you do not enter upon a thing after 
 you have considered it well, but have been guilty of rashly following 
 the levity of your own appetites. Some, upon seeing a philosopher, 
 or hearing one say how well did Socrates express this, who can reason 
 so well as he did ? they presently will also become philosophers. 
 
 CHAP. XXX VI. 
 
 Whatever you undertake, consider first the nature of the thing 
 and then your own nature ; and whether jou are able to perform jV. 
 
ENCHIRIDION. 403 
 
 Would you be conqueror in all tliejive games, a quiuquertian,^ or 
 a wrestler ? Look upon tlie strength of your limbs, and the make 
 of your body. Nature has fitted people for different employments. 
 Do you think you shall be able so to eat and drink, to abstain, and 
 endure as the other champions do ? Tou must labour, break your 
 rest, and abstain from the company of your family ; so you must re- 
 solve to he despised; to be less than your companions in whatever 
 business you undertake, whether in honour and authority, in a suit of 
 law, or in any other affair. Consider these things, and always 
 weigh with yourself, whether what you are going about will 
 lalance liberty, constancy, and tranquillity of mind ; if otherwise, 
 see that you be not as children are at play, sometimes a philosopher, 
 sometimes a tale-gatherer, an orator, and at last one of the emperor's 
 officers. These things do not agree together ; you must maintain 
 one part, and be either a good or a had man ; either apply 
 yourself to improve your reason and mind, or to pursue external 
 advantages. It is your part to choose, whether you had rather be 
 internally, or externally employed, that is, maintain the character 
 of a philosopher, or of a private person. 
 
 CHAP. SXXTII. 
 
 The measures we ought to keep throughout our lives, are accord 
 ing to the duties required of us in the station we are placed. Tou 
 have a father, it is enjoined you to take care of him, to yield to 
 him in all things ; if he chide or beat you it must be endured. 
 But he is an ill father — Nature has not commanded to obey a good 
 father, but a father. My brother is an enemy to me, you ought 
 to preserve your duty to liim, neither consider what he does, but 
 what you are, by nature, obliged to do. Xou cannot be hurt by 
 another, except you are yourself consenting to it. Tou are then 
 only injured, when you fancy yourself to be injured. So shall you 
 be able to bear the office of a neighbour, a citizen, or a com- 
 mander, if you always regard what you ought to do in every sta- 
 tion of life. 
 
 CHAP. XXITIII. 
 
 This ought to be the first principle of your religion, to think 
 rightly of the immortal gods ; to believe their being, with a firm 
 
 ^ A gninquertian, the term for a conqueror in all the five games or exercises of 
 the Pentathla (7r€iiTaffKa) , running, wrestling, leaping, boxing, and throwing the 
 discus, or quoit. — W, 
 
 2 D 2 
 
404 ENCHIKIDION. 
 
 faith, and that they justly and well dispose of the universe, and 
 all that- is in it. Secondly, to obey them, and in everything to 
 submit without murmuring to their administration, and to follow 
 willingly the orders that proceed from a wise and perfect Being ; 
 so will you never repine, nor complain that you are neglected by 
 them ; otherwise you will accuse the gods, or their decrees, for 
 those errors which proceed from your own vn-ong judgment, and 
 endeavour at other times, by your own strength or management, 
 to attain to those blessings which they only dispose of. If you 
 suppose the gods authors of all that happens in the world, good or 
 evil, if you are disappointed in your wishes, or fall into misfortunes, 
 it is impossible but you must accuse them, as authors of those 
 things. Por it is woven in the nature of all creatures, to hate and 
 complain of whatever seems to them to be the cause of their 
 unhappiness ; and on the other hand, to serve and love whatever 
 is useful to their prosperity. It is unreasonable to be pleased 
 with what hurts us, and nobody ever can be satisfied to be a loser ; 
 from hence it is the son reproaches his father, when he does not 
 bestow on him what he thinks good ; and this kindled the war be- 
 tween Eteocles and Polynices, that they both esteemed empire to 
 be a good ; from this reason, the husbandman, the sailor, the mer- 
 chant, or those that lose a wife or children, even curse the gods, as 
 authors of their losses. But when they are happy, they are then 
 pious. Let your piety be more steadfast ; endeavour to remove 
 from yourself all desires and aversions that are not becoming, and 
 use the same endeavours to preserve an even piety. Offer liba- 
 tions, sacrifices, and first-fruits, after the custom of your country. 
 Chastely and not luxuriously, neither idly, nor covetously, nor yet 
 liberally beyond the bounds of your estate. 
 
 CHAP. XXXIX. 
 
 When you go to a prophet, or oracle, remember that you are 
 ignorant of the event of the business, and for that reason you go 
 to learn it. Inquire of him with that temper which belongs to a 
 philosopher ; for if it is of the number of those things which is not 
 in our power, it ought not to aSect you as a real good or evil. 
 Carry therefore not with you a violent desire or fear, otherwise 
 you will approach him trembling ; it is the wisest and best, never 
 to be very much interested concerning any event. Let it not 
 touch your mind which way soever it happens ; it is your duty to 
 
ENCHIRIDIOK. 405 
 
 make a good use of every accident, aud suffer it not to be an injury 
 to yourself or any other. When you consult the gods^ do it with 
 a steady mind, and if there be any counsel given you, remember 
 whom you have consulted, and whose authority you slight, except 
 you obey it. So receive the oracle, after the example of Socrates, 
 as concerning things, to put off all consideration to the event, 
 since neither reason, nor art, can help them to understand the 
 meaning of the gods. "When therefore your country, or your 
 friend, stand in need of your defence, do not consult the priest 
 whether you shall defend them. If he tell you the victims predict 
 the undertaking shall be unhappy, that unhappiness must either 
 signify death, loss of your limbs, or exile. Yet the same reason 
 remains for your undertaking. Danger ought to be shared with 
 your country or friends. Go to that Great Prophet, who would 
 not suffer him in the temple who refused to succour his friend in 
 hazard of his life. 
 
 CHAP. XL. 
 
 Prescribe to yourself a form of laws, and observe them, both in 
 your own mind, and in your intercourse with the world. 
 
 CHAP. XLI. 
 
 Generally, silence is the best ; but if you must speak, speak in 
 few words ; there are times when we ought to talk, but then, not 
 to talk everything. Avoid speaking of the gladiators, the Circen- 
 sian games, the prizefighters, and all common and idle subjects, 
 and chiefly take care how you praise men, or make comparisons 
 between them. 
 
 CHAP. XLII. 
 
 In your own family, or to your friends, endeavour to make 
 them wiser or better by your discourses ; but among strangers be 
 silent. 
 
 CHAP. XLIII. 
 
 Do not laugh much, nor from many causes, nor extravagantly. 
 
 CHAP. XLIT. 
 
 Swear not at all, if you can wholly avoid it ; if not, however, 
 avoid it as much as you are able. 
 
 CHAP. XLV. 
 
 Avoid popular and great entertainments. But if you are called 
 to one, let your meditations not be altered or relaxed, but rather 
 
406 ENCHIRIDION. 
 
 excited, least you fall into a coramou practice of frequenting those 
 assemblies. Know that if your companion be dissolute, that cor- 
 ruption will also reach you at length, though your mind was 
 altogether pure and honest before. 
 
 CHAP. xt,vi. 
 Provide everything necessary for the body as far as it is neces- 
 sary for the mind, as meat, drink, clothes, house and servants. 
 Put away all things that belong to ostentation or delicacy. 
 
 eHAP. XLVII. 
 
 Preserve yourself from all pollutions, without a pride in so 
 doing, or a censoriousness of others ; suffer them to follow their 
 inclinations, without blame or boasting of your abstinence. 
 
 CHAP. XLTIII. 
 
 If anybody tells you, such a one has spoken ill of you, do not 
 refute them in that particular ; but answer, had he known all my 
 vices, he had not spoken only of that one. 
 
 CHAP. XLIX. 
 
 It is not necessary commonly to frequent the theatre, but if 
 any occasion calls you there, let it only appear to yourself, if your 
 thoughts are otherwise employed, and seem satisfied with the 
 diversions there. Among the prizefighters, wish him conqueror 
 who overcomes ; so you shall cause no disturbance. Do notion 
 distinguish yourself by shouting or hissing ; after it is over, make 
 no disputes concerning what is done, which are of no use to render 
 you wiser or better ; if you act in another manner, your mind wUl 
 seem affected by outward shows. 
 
 CHAP. Ii. 
 
 Be not easily persuaded to go to public orations ; but if you do 
 go, preserve your gravity, and an equal temper of mind, and at 
 the same time, take care that you are not troublesome to any 
 other. 
 
 CHAP. LI. 
 
 "When you have any dealings with men, especially the nobility, 
 propose to yourself the same manner of behaviour which Socrates 
 or Zeno would in the like case. Let outward show no way affect 
 you, and then you will not want clearness of reason to act rightly 
 the business you have undertaken. 
 
ENCHIRIDION 407 
 
 CHAP. LH. 
 
 When you go to visit any great man, imagine with yourself, 
 that, perhaps, he will be gone abroad, perhaps he will not be 
 to be seen, it may be the doors may be shut against, or he neglect 
 you, when he sees you. So that if any of these things happen, 
 you will endure them patiently, and not go away exclaiming, or 
 railing; for that is like a plebeian, to cry out against external 
 things. 
 
 CHAP. LIII. 
 
 In familiar conversation with your intimate friends, have a care 
 of entertaining them with long recitations of your own past 
 dangers, or rogueries of your youth. For it should be no pleasure 
 to you to remember your ill actions, nor can it be agreeable to 
 others to listen to what has happened to you. 
 
 CHAP. LIV. 
 
 Beware of making the company merry ; this silly inclination 
 the most easUy makes us fall into the manners of the common 
 people, and will have the force of making the respect lessen, which 
 is due to you, from your acquaintance. 
 
 CHAP. LV. 
 
 It is dangerous to fall into impure conversation ; when anything 
 of the kind is said before you, if the place and person permits, re- 
 prove him that spoke ; if that is not convenient, by your silence 
 and your blushes show, at least, that you are displeased. 
 
 CHAP. ivi. 
 If the image of any pleasure strikes upon your mind, moderate 
 your desires, and suffer them not to hurry you away, bat, examine 
 the thing, and allow yourself time for consideration. Eemember 
 every time when you enjoyed your wishes, and how you have 
 afterwards found reason of grief, by those very pleasures, and you 
 will chide your hasty desires, and compare this wish with those 
 that have gone before it. If you deny yourself, by abstinence^yoa 
 "will one day rejoice at the conquest, and praise yourself, within 
 yourself. "When, therefore, at any time pleasure shows itself to 
 you, have a care of being vanquished by its blandishments, sweet- 
 nesses, and its enchantments, but oppose to it the joy you will re- 
 ceive from the consciousness of a victory over your passions. 
 
408 ENCHIRIDIOIT. 
 
 CHAP. liVlI. 
 
 When you have resolved upon any undertaking, do not be 
 ashamed to be seen doing it, although the world should judge 
 otherwise of it than you do. If the thing is in itself evil, avoid an 
 ill action because it is ill. But if a good one, why should you be 
 afraid of being accused without reason ? 
 
 CHAP. LVIII. 
 
 As to say it is day, or it is night, at different times, is sense ; 
 but to say at one time, it is both day and night, is nonsense : so it 
 is a contradiction for a man to think to please his own appetite by 
 snatching whatever is set before him, and at the same time be 
 agreeable to the rest of those invited at an entertainment. Ee- 
 member, therefore, when you are at any feast, not to look upon 
 the dishes, as they are pleasant to your taste ; but that in helping 
 yourself there is a decency to be preserved, and a respect due both 
 to the inviter and the rest of the company. 
 
 CHAP. LIX. 
 
 If you emulate a man of greater merit than yourself, you will 
 succeed ill in that, and also lose the merit of those excellencies you 
 might be able to attain. 
 
 CHAP. LX. 
 
 As in walking, you take care lest you set your foot upon a 
 stump, and strain your ankle : beware, in the course of your life, 
 you hurt not your mind ; the governor of your actions, which, if 
 we observe diligently, we shall undertake everything cautiously. 
 
 CHAP. IXI. 
 
 Tour expenses ought to be as well proportioned to your neces- 
 sity, as your shoe to your foot. ' If you keep to that rule, it will 
 be a moderate measure ; if you go beyond it, you certainly fall 
 down a precipice ; in your very shoe, if you wilfully exceed what is 
 necessary, you will then have a gold one, after that it must be the 
 Tyrian dye, and at length embroidery. There is no end of his ex- 
 travagancy who once passes the bounds of reason. 
 
 CHAP. LXII. 
 
 "Women, after fourteen, are presently called mistresses; after- 
 wards, when they see themselves without any place or employ- 
 ment, except they are married, they begin to dress, and place all 
 their hope in outward ornament. A man ought therefore to do his 
 
ENCHIKTDION. 4G9 
 
 endeavoura to show them they have but one way to be honoured, 
 to behave themselves modestly, soberly, and chastely. 
 
 CHAP. LIIII. 
 
 It is the sign of a low genius to be very much concerned, or 
 long in doing the necessary actions of ordinary life, either to sus- 
 tain or delight their bodies ; all these things are to be done 
 slightly, and only because they must ; the chief care and business 
 is to be transferred to the soul. 
 
 CHAP. LIIV. 
 
 When any one does you an ill office, or speaks ill of you, re- 
 member that he thinks himself in the right in so doing or saying, 
 and it is not to be expected he should act according to your 
 opinion, but his own. If he judges wrong, the injury is his, who 
 is deceived. If appearances are at any time deceitful, or truth 
 obscured, so as to be taken for a falsehood, the truth is not 
 hurt by it, but he is injured who is mistaken : being instructed in 
 this, you will bear slander with an even mind, and when you hear 
 any reflection made on you, you will answer — so it appeared to the 
 reflector. 
 
 CHAP. LXT. 
 
 Everything has two handles, the one tolerable, the other in- 
 tolerable : if your brother does you an injury, think not of the in- 
 jury, for that is intolerable ; but think he is your brother, and 
 educated along with you, and that is taking it the best way. 
 
 CHAP. LIVI. 
 
 These conclusions are not just: I am thy superior in wealth, 
 therefore thy superior in merit ; I am more eloquent, therefore 
 more deserving ; but it ia right to say, I am richer, and therefore 
 my money ia more than yours ; I speak better, and therefore my 
 language is purer. But neither your wealth, or eloquence, can 
 render you better or more estimable. 
 
 CHAP. LXVII. 
 
 If any one go early to the bath, say not, he does iU to go early ; 
 say only, he did. go there early. If any one drinks much wine, 
 make no reflections when you say, he drinks much. The thing 
 may not be evil, which you may rashly judge so. So you may 
 disuse yourself from passing any judgment, till you are thoroughly 
 acquainted with the motives of every action. 
 
410 
 
 ENCHIRIDION. 
 
 CHAP. LXYIII. 
 
 Never profess yourself a philosopher, nor dispute concerning 
 maxims and precepts with the ignorant and simple ; as at an en- 
 tertainment, never preach how people ought to eat, but eat you 
 as becomes you ; and remember Socrates in this manner avoided 
 all ostentation, for they came to him to show them to philosophers, 
 and he carried them to them, so easily did he endure their con- 
 tempt of his learning. 
 
 OHAf . ixix. 
 
 If there happens amongst fools any dispute concerning learning, 
 for the moat part be silent. It is dangerous to speak what comes 
 first into your mind. If any one calls you ignorant, be not moved 
 at the reproach ; and when you have learned this, then know 
 you begin to be learned. A sheep does not show she has had a 
 good pasture by throwing up the grass she has eaten, but when she 
 has well digested it, and has wool and milk in plenty : do you in 
 the same manner not boast your reading to fools, but show you 
 have read and profited by the actions that follow a true improve- 
 ment. 
 
 CHAP. ixx. 
 
 If you have learned to be moderate in your appetites and cares 
 for what concerns your body, do not be pleased with yourself 
 upon that account ; if you drink only water, say not upon all occa- 
 sions, you abstain from everything but water ; if you inure your- 
 self to labour, do it not publicly ; if you forbear to drink when 
 you thirst, forbearance is a virtue, but tell nobody of it. 
 
 OHAI. liXXr. 
 
 It is the mark of a thoughtless vulgar mind, to expect neither 
 pleasure nor pain from anything but external things ; but it is 
 the express sign of a philosopher, to place all his grief and satis- 
 faction within his own mind. 
 
 CHAP. LXXIl. 
 
 These are the signs of a wise man : To reprove nobody, praise 
 nobody, blame nobody, nor ever to speak of himself, as if he was 
 some uncommon man, or knew more than the rest of the world. 
 If he fails in anything, he accuses only himself; if any one praises 
 him, in his own mind he contemns the flatterer ; if any one re- 
 proves him, he looks with care, that he may not be unsettled in 
 that state of tranquillity he has entered into. All his desires 
 
ENCHIRIDION. 411 
 
 depend on things within his own power, he transfers all his aver- 
 sion to those things Nature commands us to avoid. His appetites 
 are always moderate ; he is indifferent, whether he be thought 
 foolish or ignorant. He observes himself with the nicety of an 
 enemy or a spy, and looks on his own wishes as betrayers. 
 
 CHAP. LIIIII. 
 
 If you hear a man boast he understands and can explain the 
 books of Chrysippus, say within yourself, if Chrysippus had not 
 wrote obscurely, this man would have had nothing to boast of; 
 but what do I study to know ? Nature, and to follow her pre- 
 cepts. I seek, therefore, who is her interpreter ; when I hear it 
 is Chrysippus, I will consult him. But I do not understand bis 
 writings, I will therefore seek me a master ; there is no great ex- 
 cellence in that, but when I have foiind an interpreter, it remains 
 to obey his precepts, and that only is excellent. If I only admire 
 the style and the interpretation, I do no otherwise than leave the 
 place of a philosopher for a grammarian, excepting that instead of 
 Homer, I translate Chrysippus. I ought rather to blush, when 
 any one asks me if I have read Chrysippus, that I am not able to 
 show them ; yet my actions are agreeable to all his precepts. 
 
 CHAP. Lxxrv. 
 Observe these rules, as if not to be violated without a punish- 
 ment ; neither care what judgment men pass on you, for what they 
 shall say is not in your power to help. 
 
 CHAP. LXXT. 
 
 How long, I desire to know, will you defer the choice of those 
 things you think most deserving, and cease violating the dictates 
 of your own reason ? Tou have heard the precepts you ought to 
 embrace, and you have embraced them. What master do you yet 
 expect, and for whose coming do you defer the amendment of your 
 manners ? You are no longer a youth, but are come to the mature 
 age of a man. If you now grow neglectful and idle, you will put 
 delay upon delay, add purpose to purpose, and put it off eternally 
 from one day to another. Will you not consider you have learned 
 nothing, and at this rate will both live and die a vulgar man ? 
 This minute, therefore, begin the life of a wise man, and one 
 worthy of that name ; and whatever seems best to your unpre- 
 judiced reason, make that an inviolable rule to you, whether it be 
 
412 ENCHIRIDION. 
 
 laborious, sweet, glorious, or infamous. Remember, the choice is 
 to be now made, the combat is now beginning, neither is it per- 
 mitted you to defer it; one hour of neglect will make all your 
 virtue perish, or one firm resolution retain it for ever. So Socrates 
 became what he was ; in all things he carried himself agreeably to 
 reason, and never hearkened to any other counsellor ; and though 
 as yet you are no Socrates, yet, if you are willing to become one, 
 you must live in that manner. 
 
 CHAP. LXXVI. 
 
 The most necessary part of philosophy is the use of its maxims ; 
 as, for instance, not to lie : the second is the demonstration. Why 
 should we not lie ? The third is the confirmation, as, Why it is 
 a demonstration ? What is a demonstration ? What a conse- 
 quence ? What a contradiction ? What is truth ? What is false- 
 hood ? The third depends upon the second, and the second upon 
 the first, but it is most necessary to dwell upon the first. But 
 our practice is different from this ; we rest upon the third part, 
 and there we employ our studies, neglecting the first altogether. 
 While we can very readily demonstrate why we ought not to lie, 
 we make no scruple of speaking falsehood. 
 
 CHAP. Lxxvir. 
 In the beginning of every undertaking this ought to be our 
 prayer : " Lead me, oh Jupiter, and thou Pate, wheresoever ye 
 have destined me. I will cheerfully follow ; if I refuse, it would 
 be the part of an impious man, and notwithstanding I should 
 follow." 
 
 CHAP. LXKVIII. 
 
 He is a wise man who submits himself to necessity, and is con- 
 scious of the Divine Providence. 
 
 CHAP. LXXIX. 
 
 And this, O Crito, is the wisest prayer : If so it seems best to 
 the gods, so be it. Anglus and Melitus have the power to kiU 
 me, but they have not the power to hurt me. 
 
ESSAYS. 
 
 A LETTEE FROM THE OiaiR WOELB, TO A liADT, 
 EEOM HEE EOEMEE HUSBAND. 
 
 This letter will surprise you less than it would any other of 
 your sex ; and therefore I think I need no apology in breaking 
 through a rule of good-breeding, which has been observed so 
 strictly by all husbands for so many ages ; who, however trouble- 
 some while they lived, have never frightened their wives by the 
 least notice of them after their deaths : but your reverend doctor 
 will inform you, that there is nothing supernatural in this corre- 
 spondence ; and that the existence of immortal spirits includes a 
 tender concern for the poor militant mortals of your world. I 
 own I was a little puzzled how to convey this epistle, and thought 
 it best to assume a material form some few moments, and put it 
 myself into the penny-post. In my hurry (being very impatient 
 to let you hear from me) I unluckily forgot my little finger, which 
 produced an odd accident ; for the wench at the post-oiEce would 
 have taken me up for one of the incendiaries. Already had the 
 mob assembled round the door, and nothing but dissolving into 
 air could have saved me from Newgate. Several ran down the 
 alleys in pursuit of me ; and particular care was taken of my letter, 
 in hopes of reading it in the newspaper. You may imagine I 
 would not have exposed myself to this adventure, but out of the 
 sincerest regard to the happiness of the dear partner of my worldly 
 cares. Without the least uneasiness I have seen you dispose of 
 yourself into the arms of another ; and I would never disturb you 
 while you were seeking pleasure in forgetting me ; but I cannot 
 bear that you should constrain yourself out of respect to me. I 
 see every motion of your mind now much clearer than I did in 
 
414 ESSAYS. 
 
 my life (though then I guessed pretty shrewdly sometimes). I 
 know the real content that you find in coloured riband, and am 
 sensible how much you sacrifice to imaginary decency every time 
 you put on that odious rusty black, which is half worn out. Alas ! 
 my dear Eliza, in these seats of perfect love and beauty, the veriest 
 scrub of a cherubim (some of which have raked cinders behind 
 Montagu House, as they often tell me) is more charming than 
 you were on your first wedding-day. Judge, then, whether I can 
 have any satisfaction in looking at your crape hood when I am 
 in this bright company. Tou know that, in my terrestrial state, 
 three bottles would sometimes raise me to that pitch of philoso- 
 phy, I utterly forgot you, when you were but some few inches 
 from me. Do not fancy me grown so impertinent here, as to ob- 
 serve so nicely whether you obey the forms of widowhood ; and 
 do not think to cajole me with such instances of your afi^ection, 
 when you are giving the most substantial proofs of it to another 
 man. I have already assured you I am exalted above jealousy, if 
 I could have been sensible of it. Tou have provoked me by a 
 second choice, so absolutely opposite to your first. He is often 
 talking of certain fellows he calls Classic Authors, who I never 
 trouble my head with : and I know this letter will meet with 
 more regard from him than from you ; for he is better skilled in 
 the language of the dead than the living. 
 
 IN A PAPEli CALLED THE NONSENSE OE COMMON SENSE. 
 PUBLISHED JANUAUT 24l, 1738 .^ 
 
 I HATE always, as I have already declared, professed myself a 
 friend, though I do not aspire to the character of an admirer, of 
 the fair sex ; and as such, I am warmed with indignation at the 
 barbarous treatment they have received from the Common Sense of 
 January 14, and the false advice that he gives them. He either 
 knows them very little, or, like an interested quack, prescribes such 
 medicines as are likely to hurt their constitutions. It is very 
 plain to me, from the extreme partiality with which he speaks of 
 Operas, and the rage with which he attacks both Tragedy and 
 Comedy, that the author is a Performer in the Opera ; and whoever 
 
 ' " The Nonsense of Common Sense," an Essay paper, started about this time to 
 counteract the paper called *' Common Sense," which had attained some influence, 
 was edited, and probably projected, by the celebrated General Oglethorpe. The 
 only number which I have seen bears the eccentric notice; "To be continued as 
 long as the author thinks fit and the public likes it." It had but a short run, and 
 it is doubtful whether any complete copy is in existence. — T. 
 
ESSAYS. 415 
 
 reads his paper witli attention, will be of my opinion ;■ else no 
 thing alive would assert, at tlie same time, tbe innocence of an 
 entertainment, contrived wholly to soften the mind and soothe 
 the sense, without any pretence to a moral ; and so vehemently 
 declaim against plays, whose end is, to show the fatal consequences 
 of vice, to warn the innocent against the snares of a well-bred de- 
 signing Dorimant. Tou see there to what insults a woman of 
 wit, beauty, and quality, is exposed, that has been seduced by the 
 artificial tenderness of a vain agreeable gallant ; and, I believe, that 
 very comedy has given more checks to ladies in pursuit of present 
 pleasures, so closely attended with shame and sorrow, than all the 
 sermons they have ever heard in their lives. But this author 
 does not seem to think it possible to stop their propensity to gal- 
 lantry by reason or reflection. He only desires them to fiU up 
 their time with all sorts of trifles : in short, he recommends to 
 them gossiping, scandal, lying, and a whole troop of foUies, in- 
 stead of it, as the only preservatives for their virtue. 
 
 I am for treating them with more dignity ; and, as I profess 
 myself a protector of all the oppressed, I shall look upon them as 
 my peculiar care. I expect to be told this is downright Quixotism, 
 and that I am venturing to engage the strongest part of mankind, 
 with a paper helmet upon my head. I confess it is an undertaking 
 where I cannot foresee any considerable success ; and, according 
 to an author I have read somewhere, 
 
 " The world will still be ruled by knavea 
 And fools, contending to be slaves." 
 
 But, however, I keep up the character of a moralist, and shall 
 use my endeavours to relieve the distressed, and defeat vulgar 
 prejudices, whatever the event may be. Among the most universal 
 errors, I reckon that of treating the weaker sex with a contempt 
 which has a very bad influence on their conduct. How many of 
 them think it excuse enough to say they ai'e women, to indulge 
 any folly that comes into their heads ! This renders them useless 
 members of the commonwealth, and only burdensome to their own 
 families, where the wise husband thinks he lessens the opinion of 
 bis own understanding, if he at any time condescends to consult 
 his wife's. Thus, what reason nature has given them is thrown 
 away, and a blind obedience expected from them by aU their ill- 
 natured masters ; and, on the other side, as blind a complaisance 
 shown by those that are indulgent, who say often, that women's 
 
416 ESSAYS. 
 
 weakness must be complied with, and it is a vain troublesome 
 attempt to make tbem hear reason. 
 
 I attribute a great part of this way of thinking, which is hardly 
 ever controverted, either to the ignorance of authors, who are 
 many of them heavy collegians, that have never been admitted to 
 politer conversations than those of their hed-makers, or to the 
 design of selling their works, which is generally the only view of 
 writing, without any regard to truth, or the ill consequences that 
 attend the propagation of wrong notions. A paper smartly wrote, 
 though perhaps only some old conceits dressed in new words, 
 either in rhyme or prose — I say rhyme, for I have seen, no verses 
 wrote for many years — such a paper, either to ridicule or declaim 
 against the ladies, is very welcome to the coffee-houses, where 
 there is hardly one man in ten but fancies he has some reason or 
 other to curse some of the sex most heartily. Perhaps his sister's 
 fortunes are to run away with the money that would be better be- 
 stowed at the Groom-porter's ; or an old mother, good for nothing, 
 keeps a jointure from a- hopeful son, that wants to make a settle- 
 ment on his mistress ; or a handsome young fellow is plagued with 
 a wife, that will remain alive, to hinder his running away with a 
 great fortune, having two or three of them in love with him. These 
 are serious misfortunes, that are sufficient to exasperate the mildest 
 tempers to a contempt of the sex : not to speak of lesser incon- 
 veniences, which are very provoking at the time they are felt. 
 
 How many pretty gentlemen have been unmercifully jilted by 
 pert hussies, after having curtseyed to them at half a dozen operas ; 
 nay, permitted themselves to be led out twice; yet, after these en- 
 courageme;]ts, which amount very near to an engagement, have 
 refused their lillets-doux, and perhaps married other men, under 
 their noses. How welcome is a couplet or two, in scorn of woman- 
 kind, to such a disappointed lover; and with what comfort he 
 reads, in many profound authors, that they are never to be pleased 
 but by coxcombs ; and, consequently, he owes his ill success to the 
 brightness of his understanding, whicli is beyond female compre- 
 hension. The country squire is confirmed, in the elegant choice 
 he has made, in preferring the conversation of his hounds to that 
 of his wife ; and the kind keepers, a numerous sect, find themselves 
 justified in throwing away their time and estates on a parcel of 
 jilts, when they read that neither birth nor education can make 
 
ESSAYS. 417 
 
 any of tlie sex rational creatures ; and they can liiive no value, but 
 what is to he seen in their faces. 
 
 Hence springs the applause with which such libels are read ; 
 but I would ask the applauders, if these notions, in their own 
 nature, are likely to produce any good effect towards reforming 
 the vicious, instructing the weak, or guiding the young ? I would 
 not every day tell my footman, if I kept any, that their whole fra- 
 ternity were a pack of scoundrels ; that lying and stealing were 
 inseparable qualities from their cloth ; that I should think myself 
 very happy in them, if they confined themselves to innocent 
 lies, and would only steal candles' ends. On the contrary, I would 
 say in their presence, that birth and money were accidents of for- 
 tune, that no man was to be seriously despised for wanting them ; 
 that an honest faithful servant was a character of more value than 
 an insolent corrupt lord ; that the real distinction between man 
 and man lay in his integrity, which, in one shape or other, gene- 
 rally met with its reward in the world, and could not fail of giving 
 the highest pleasure, by a consciousness of virtue, which every 
 man feels that is so happy to possess it. 
 
 With this gentleness would I treat my inferiors, with much 
 greater esteem would I speak to that beautiful half of mankind 
 who are distinguished by petticoats. If I were a divine, I would 
 remember, that in their first creation they were designed as a help 
 for the other sex ; and nothing was ever made incapable of the end 
 of its creation. "lis true, the first lady had so little experience, 
 that she hearkened to the persuasion of an impertinent dangler ; 
 and, if you mind, he succeeded, by persuading her she was not so 
 wise as she should be. 
 
 Men that have not sense enough to show any superiority in 
 their arguments, hope to be yielded to by a faith, that, as they are 
 men, all the reason that has been allotted to human-kind has fallen 
 to their share. I am seriously of another opinion. As much 
 greatness of mind may be shown in submission as in command, 
 and some women have suffered a life of hardships with as much 
 philosophy as Cato traversed the deserts of Africa, and without 
 that support the view of glory offered him, which is enough for the 
 human mind that is touched with it, to go through any toil or 
 danger. But this is not the situation of a woman whose virtue 
 must only shine to her own recollection, and loses that name when 
 
 VOL. II. 2 E 
 
418 ESSAYS. . 
 
 it is ostentatiously exposed to the world. A lady -who has per- 
 formed her duty as a daughter, a wife, and a mother, raises in me 
 as much veneration as Socrates or XenopTion ; and much more than 
 I would pay either to Julius Caesar or Cardinal Mazarin, though 
 the first was the most famous enslaver of hia country, and the last 
 the most successful plunderer of his master. 
 
 A woman really virtuous, in the utmost extent of this expres- 
 sion, has virtue of a purer kind than any philosopher has ever 
 shown ; since she knows, if she has sense, and without it there can 
 be no virtue, that mankind is too much prejudiced against her sex, 
 to give her any degree of that fame which is so sharp a spur to 
 their great actions. I have some thoughts of exhibiting a set of 
 pictures of such meritorious ladies, where I shall say nothing of 
 the fire of their eyes, or the pureness of their complexions, but 
 give them such praises as befit a rational sensible being : virtues 
 of choice, and not beauties of accident. I beg they would not so 
 far mistake me, as to think I am undervaluing their charms : a 
 beautiful mind, in a beautiful body, is one of the finest objects 
 shown us by nature. I would not have them place so much value 
 on a quality that can be only useful to one, as to neglect that 
 which may be of benefit to thousands, by precept or by example. 
 There will be no occasion of amusing them with trifles, when they 
 consider themselves capable of not only making the most amiable, 
 but the most estimable, figures in life. Begin, then, ladies, by 
 paying those authors with scorn and contempt, who, with a sneer 
 of aflFected admiration, would throw you below the dignity of the 
 human species. 
 
ESSAYS. 419 
 
 CAEABOSSE. 
 A l'abbe conti. 
 
 Il y avoit autrefois Tin Prince et une Princesse (car c'est ainsi 
 que ma nourrice commeiigoittous les contes dont elle me ber5oit). 
 Le Prince etoit brave et genereux, la Princesse belle et sage : 
 leurs vertus, et leur amour reciproque et constant, faisoient tout a 
 la fois la gloire et la honte du siecle. Mais comme il n'y a point 
 de felicite parfaite, il leur manquoit des enfans : les temples de 
 tous les dieux etoient charges de leurs offrandes, et toutea les 
 bonnes fees des environs de leurs presents, pour obtenir la seule 
 cbose qu'ils avoient a souhaiter. II est vrai qu'on ne put jamais 
 persuader a la Princesse de recbercber les mauvaiscs, et c'^toit en 
 vain que le Prince lui representoit que les mechantes pouvoient 
 nuire avec autant de facilite que les bienfiiisantes pouvoient servir ; 
 elle disoit toujoura que faire la cour aux vicieux, 6toit une espece 
 de culte rendue au vice, et elle ne pouvoit pas s'y r^soudre. On 
 dlt meme qu'elle s'emanoipoit quelquefois k bl^mer leur condulte 
 d'une fafon un peu temeraire. Eofin ses voeux furent combles: 
 elle devint grosse. Elle n'oublia pas de prier k ses couches toutes 
 les fees de ses amies, et elle leur preparoit des presents digues de 
 leur estre offerts. Donuer des pierreries on de Tor aux maitresses 
 des mines, auroit et6 leur faire un aiFront : elle s9avoit qu'elles en 
 fout si peu de cas, qu'elles en comblent souvcnt les mortels les plus 
 indignes pour en mieux marquer leur mepris. Elle avoit ramasse 
 par lea soins infinis de beaux vers passionn^s composes par des 
 amants sinceres, le portrait d'une belle religieuse qui n'avoit jamais 
 pense k I'amour profane, une pbiole (tres petite k la verite) des 
 larmes versees par une jeune et riche veuve seule dans son cabinet, 
 et des livres de tbeologie qui n' avoient jamais ennuy6 personue. 
 Les f^es etoient toutea 6tonnees d'oCi elle auroit pu trouver taut 
 de choaes rares et pr6cieuaes ; elles etoient empress^es de t^moigner 
 leur reconnoiasance en rendant son enfant la personne du monde 
 la plus accomplie et la plus heureuse. Elle mit au monde une 
 petite Princesse : k peine avoit-elle vu la lumi^re que la f^e Bel- 
 linde s'i5cria, Je la done d'une beauts noble et touchante. Elle 
 n'avoit pas cess6 de parler quand on entendoit un bruit comme de 
 
 2 e2 
 
420 ESSAYS. 
 
 cent canons d^cbarges k la fois, un sifflement comme de niille ser- 
 pents furieux, et on vit descendre par la chemin^e la f^e Carabosse, 
 monti^e k califourchon sur un 6norme crapaud. Je ne veux salir 
 mon papier par la description de sa figure, faite pour inspirer le 
 d^goAt et I'borreur. Je veux (crioit-elle d'une voix rauque) que 
 cette iille ch^rie perde cette beauts admirable par la petite v^role 
 dans I'age qu'elle commence k sentir ses avantages. La f^e Spiri- 
 tuelle, se flattant d'adoucir ce malheur, disoit, Je la doue d'une 
 m^moire la plus beureuse qui ait jamais 6t6, d'un gout juste, d'une 
 vivacity surprenante, temp^r^e par un jugement qui r^glera toutes 
 ses paroles : elle excellera dans tous les genres d'6crire ; elle sera 
 sgavante sans vanity, et vive sans ^tourderie. Ce bel esprit (r^- 
 pliqua Carabosse avec un souris d^daigneux) ne servira qu'a lui 
 attirer les ennemis ; elle seroit toujours en proye aux sots, d^cbir^e 
 par leurs malices, et importun^e par leurs assiduit^s. Je veux, 
 disoit la brillante Argentine en s'avan9ant, que son pere soit le 
 plus ricbe seigneur de son rang, et que son mari ait des millions 
 d'or. Oui, interrompit Carabosse, elle vivra au milieu des tresors 
 sans en voir jamais a sa disposition. Je lui donne, disoit Hygeia, 
 une sant6 k toute 6preuve, que ni les chagrins ni les fatigues ne 
 pourront diminuer. Cette 8ant6, r^pondit Carabosse, lui inspirera 
 la Lardiesse de tenter des entreprises temeraires, et de risquer des 
 dangers dont elle seroit toujours environn^e. Elle aura, disoit 
 I'aimable Harmonic, I'oreille juste et un gout exquis pour la 
 
 musique Je lui os te (crioit Carabosse en lui coupant la parole, 
 
 le pouvoir de chanter, pour qu'elle sente toute la rage da desir et 
 de I'impuissance. Les bonnes fees, consternees de voir leurs bene- 
 dictions ainsi empoisonn^es, se parloient tout bas, et consultoient 
 en quelle maniere on pouvoit vaincre cette malice infernale. Spiri- 
 tuelle crut avoir trouv^ un expedient infaillible : II faut lui oster 
 (disoit-elle) tous les vices, et elle se trouvera garantie des malheurs 
 qui en sont la suite. Je lui oste (ajouta-t-elle d'un ton haut et 
 ferme) toutes les semences de Ten vie et de I'avarice, qui sont les 
 sources des miserea de I'humanite ; elle aura I'humeur douce et 
 
 egale Et un grand fonds de tendresse, s'^cria Carabosse avec un 
 
 edat de rire qui faisoit trembler le palais. — Les f^es bienfaisantes 
 s'envol^rent, ne voiant aucum remede k tant de maux. La Prin- 
 cesse mourut de chagrin, son enfant s'embellissoit chaque jour; 
 mais ..... [Ici le manuscrit est d^fectueux.] 
 
ESSAYS 421 
 
 SUE LA MAXIME DE M. DE EOCHEFOUCAULT, 
 
 QTj'lL T A DBS MAEIAGE3 COMMODES, 
 MAIS POINT DE D^LICIEUX.l 
 
 II paroiat bien hardi d'entreprendre de detniire une masime 
 etablie par un bel esprit si celebre que Mr. de Eochefoucault, et 
 receue avec uue joye si aveugle chez une nation qui se dit la seule 
 parfaitement polie du tnonde, et qui a donne depuia si long temps 
 des loii de galanterie a toute TEurope. 
 
 Cependant (pleine de I'ardeur qu'inspire la verite) j'ose 
 avancer tout le contraire, et je soutiens hardiment, qu'il n'y a 
 qu'un amour marie qui peut etre delicieux pour une ame bien 
 faite. 
 
 La nature nous a presente des plaisirs propres pour notre 
 eapece ; on n'a qu'a suivre son instinct raffine par le gout, et 
 releve par une imagination vive et douce, pour trouver le seul 
 bonbeur dont les mortels sont capables. L'ambition, I'avarice, la 
 yanite, ne peuvent donner (dans leurs plus grandes jouissances) 
 que des plaisirs bas, m^diocres, et qui ne sont pas capables de 
 toucher un coeur noble. 
 
 On peut regarder les bienfaits de la fortune comme des echaf- 
 fauts necessaires pour monter au bonheur ; mais on ne peut jamais 
 'le trouver, soit en j bornant ses souhaits, soit en obtenant sea 
 friroles faveurs, qui ne sont que les genes de la vie, quand on les 
 regarde comme [des ?] pas necessaires pour obtenir ou conserver 
 une felicite plus pr^cieuse. Cette felicite ne se trouve que dans 
 I'amitie fondee sur une estime parfaite fixee par la reconnoissance, 
 soutenue par rinclination, et 6veillee par la tendresse de I'amour, 
 que les anciens out tres bien d^peiat sous la figure d'un bel enfant : 
 il se plait dans les jeux enfantins, il est tendre et delicat, incapable 
 de nuire, cbarme des bagatelles ; tous ses desseins se terminent 
 
 ' " I am extremely obliged to Lady Mary Wortley for allowing me the sight of 
 
 her charming essay I own it gives me great pleasure to find a person 
 
 with more wit than Rochefoucauld himself undertake to confute any of his 
 Maxims." — Countess of Uertfwd to Countess of Pomfrcl, Oct. 8, O.S., 1710. — T. 
 
422 ESSAYS. 
 
 en des plaisirs, mais ces plaisirs sont doux et innocents. On a 
 represente, sous una figure bien difi'erente, une autre passion trop 
 grosse pour nominer (mais dont la pluspart d'hommes sont seule- 
 ment capables). Je veux dire celle d'un satyre, qui est plus bestial 
 qu'humain, et on a exprirae dans cet animal equivoque le vice et 
 la brutalite de cet app^tit sensuel, qui est cependant le vrai 
 fondement de tous les beaux procedes de la belle galanterie. Une 
 passion qui tache de s'assouvir dans la perte de ce qu'elle trouve 
 de plus aimable au monde, qui est fondee sur I'injustice, soutenue 
 par la tromperie, et suivie des crimes, du remords, de la honte, 
 et du mepris, peut-elle etre delicieuse pour un coeur vertueux ? 
 Voiia pourtant I'aimable equipage de tous les engagements ille- 
 gitimes : on se trouve oblige d'arracber de Fame tous les sentimens 
 de I'honneur inseparable d'une education noble, et de vivre mise- 
 rable dans la poursuite eternelle de ce qu'on condamne ; d'avoir 
 tous ses plaisirs enipoisonnes de remords, et d'etre reduit a cet 
 etat malheureux de renoncer a la vertu sans pouvoir se plaire dans 
 le vice. 
 
 On ne peut gouter les douceurs d'un amour parfait que dans 
 un mariage bien assort! : rien ne marque tant de petitesse dans 
 I'esprit, que de s'arrester aux paroles. Qu'importe que la cou- 
 tume (pour laquelle nous voions d'assez bonnes raisons) ait donne 
 un peu de ridicule k ces paroles de mari et de femme ? Un 
 mari signifie (dans I'interpretation generale) un jaloux, brutal, 
 grondeur, tyran, ou bien un bon sot a qui on peut tout imposer : 
 une femme est un demon domestique, qu'on donne pour troraper 
 ou pour tourmenter ce pauvre homme. La conduite de la plus- 
 part des gens jastifie assez ces deux caracteres ; mais encore, 
 qu'importent des paroles ? Un mariage bien regie ne ressemble 
 pas a ces mariages d'interest ou d'ambition ; ce sont deux amants 
 qui vivent ensemble ; qu'un prestre dit de certaines paroles, qu'un 
 notaire signe de certains papiers, je regarde ces preparatifs dans 
 la meme vue qu'un amant I'echelle de corde qu'il attache a la 
 fenestre de sa maitresse. Pourvu qu'on vive ensemble, qu'importe 
 a quel prix et par quels moiens ? 
 
 II est impossible qu'un amour parfait et bien fonde soit heureux 
 que dans la paisible possession de I'objet aime, et cette paix n'oste 
 rien de la douceur ni de la vivacite d'une passion telle que je s9ais 
 I'imaginer. Si je voulois m'occuper a faire des romans, je ne 
 
ESSAYS. 423 
 
 voudrois pas placer les images du vrai bonheur dans 1' Arcadia, ni 
 sur les torda de Lignon ; je ne suis pas assez pr^cieuse pour bor- 
 ner la plus delicate tendresse a des souhaits. Je commenceroia 
 le roman par le mariage de deux personnes unies par I'esprit, 
 par le gofit, eb par rinclination. Se peut-il done rien de plus 
 heureux que d'unir leurs interests et leurs jours ? L'Amant a le 
 plaisir de donnec la derni^re marque d'estime et de confiance 
 a sa maitresse, et I'Amante lui donne en recompense le soin de 
 son repos et de sa liberte. Peut-on se douner des gages plus 
 cbers ou plus tendres ? et n'est-il pas naturel de soubaiter de 
 donner des preuves iucontestables d'une tendresse dont I'ame est 
 penetr^e ? 
 
 Je sgais qu'il y a de faux delicats, qui soutiennent que les plaisirs 
 de I'amour ne sont dus qu'aux difficultea et aux dangers. lis 
 disent fort spirituellement que la rose ne aeroit pas roae sans 
 espines, et mille fadaises de cette nature, qui font si peu d'imprea- 
 sion sur mon esprit, que je suis persuadee, que si j'etois Amant, 
 la crainte de nuire a celle que j'aimerols me rendroit mal- 
 heureux, si aa possession meme etoit accompagnee de dangers 
 pour elle. 
 
 La vie des Amants maries est bieu differente ; ils ont le plaisir 
 de la passer dans une suite d' obligations mutuelles et de marques 
 de bienyeillance, et on a la joye de voir qu'on fait le bonheur 
 entier de I'objet aime, en quel point je place la jouissance par- 
 faite. 
 
 Les plus petits soina de I'economie deviennent nobles et delicats, 
 quand ils sont releves par des sentiments de tendresse. Meubler 
 une cbambre, n'est paa meubler une cbambre — c'est orner un lieu 
 ou j'attenda mon Amant ; ordonner un souper, n'est pas simple- 
 ment donner dea ordres a mon cuisinier — c'est m'amuser a regaler 
 celui que j'aime : ces occupations necessaires, regardees dans cette 
 vue par une personne amoureuse, sont des plaisirs mille fois plus 
 vifs et plus toucbanta que lea spectacles et le jeu, qui font le bon- 
 beur de cette foule incapable de la vraie volupte. TJne passion 
 heureuse et contente adoucit toua lea mouvementa de I'ame, et dore 
 toua les objets qu'on voit. Tin Amant beureux (j'entends marie 
 a sa maitresse), s'il exerce une charge, les fatigues d'un camp, 
 I'embarras d'une cour, tout lui devient agreable, quand c'est pour 
 servir celle qu'il aime. Si la fortune favorable (car cela ne depend 
 
424 ESSAYS. 
 
 nullement du merite) fait reusair Bea desseina, tous les avantages 
 qu'elle lui donne sont des offrandes qii'il met aux pieds de sa 
 charmante amie; il la remercie de I'inapiration qu'il doit a ses 
 cliarmea, et il trouye dans le succea de son ambition un plaisir plus 
 vif, et plus digne d'un honnete homme, que celui d'elever sa 
 fortune, et d'etre applaudi du public. II ne jouit de la gloire, du 
 rang, et de la richesse, que par rapport a celle qu'il aime ; et c'est 
 son amante qu'il entendlouer, quand il s'attire I'approbation d'un 
 parlement, I'applaudiasement d'une arm^e, ou I'agr^ment de son 
 prince. Dans le inalheur c'est sa consolation de se retirer aupres 
 d'une personne attendrie par ses disgraces, et do se dire entre ses 
 bras, Mon bonheur ne depend pas de la' caprice de la fortune ; ici 
 j'ai un asile asseure contre les chagrins; vostre estime me rend 
 insensible a I'injustice d'une cour, ou a I'ingratitude d'un maitre, 
 et j'ai une espece de plaisir dans la perte de mon bien, puisque 
 cette infortune me donne de nouvelles preuves de vostre tendresse. 
 A quoi servent les grandeurs a des personnea d^ja Iieureuses ? 
 Wous n'avons besoin ni de flatteurs ni d'equipages ; je regne dans 
 vostre cceur, et je possede toutes les delices de la nature dana 
 vostre personne. 
 
 Eufin, il n'y a point de situation dont la tristesse n'est pas 
 capable d'etre diminueepar la compagnie de I'objet de son amour; 
 une maladie mesme n'est pas sans douceurs, quand on a le plaisir 
 d'etre soigne par celle qu'on aime. Je ne finirois jamais, si j'en- 
 treprenois de donner un detail de toua lea agr^ments d'une union 
 oil Ton trouve a la foia tout ce qui peut aatisfaire une imagination 
 tendre et delicate, et tout ce qui flatte lea sens dana la volupte la 
 plua pure et la plus eteadue ; maia je ne s9aurois finir sans parler 
 du plaisir de voir croitre, tous les jours, les aimables marques d'une 
 tendre amiti^, et de s'occuper (selon leurs diiFerents sexes) a les 
 perfectionner. On s'abandonne k ce doux instinct de la nature, 
 raffine par I'amour. On baise dans une fille la beauts de aa mere, 
 et on respecte dans un fils 1' esprit et les apparences d'une probite 
 naturelle qu'on estime dans son pere. C'est un plaisir auquel 
 Dieu mesmo (}. ce que dit Moise) a ^te senaible, quand voiant ce 
 
 * The false concords and other violations of grammatical propriety in these 
 Essays in French were probably found in the original manuscript, which I have 
 not seen. Similar errors are still more abundant in other specimens of Lady Mary's 
 French which I have found among her papers. It may be said in her defence that 
 even the writings of French ladies not deemed illiterate were at this period rarely 
 free from such defects. — T. 
 
ESSAYS. 425 
 
 qu'il avoit fait, il le trouvoit bon. A propos de Mo'ise, le premier 
 plan du bonheur a infiniraent surpasse touB les autres, et je no 
 89aurois former d'id^e d'un Paradis plus Paradis que I'^tat ou 
 etoient places nos premiers parens. Cela n'a pas dur6, parce qu'ils 
 ne connoissoient pas le monde ; et c'est par la mesme raison qu'on 
 voit si peu de mariages d'inclination heureux. Eve etoit une 
 sotte enfant, et Adam un homme fort peu eolaire : quand des gens 
 de cette espece se rencontrent, ils ont beau estre amoureux, cela ne 
 peut pas durer. lis se ferment pendant la fureur de leur amour 
 des idees surnaturelles ; un homme croit sa maitresse une ange 
 parce qu'elle est belle, et une femme est enchantee du merite de 
 son amant parce qu'il I'adore. Le premier changement de son 
 teint lui oste son adoration, et le mari cessant d'etre adorateur, 
 devient liaissable a celle qui n'a pas eu d'autre fon dement de son 
 amour. lis se d^goutent peu a peu, et a I'exemple de nos premiers 
 parens, ils ne manquent pas de rejetter Fun sur I'autre le crime de 
 leur mutuelle foiblesse. Apres la froideur, le mepris marclie a 
 grands pas, et ils sent prevenus qu'il faut se hair puisqu'ils sent 
 maries. Leurs moindres defauts se grossissent a leur vue, et ila 
 sont aveugles sur les agrements qui pourroient leur toucher en 
 toute autre personne. Un commerce etabli sur 1' usage du sens 
 ne peut pas avoir d'autre suite. Tin homme en epousant ea 
 maitresse doit oublier qu'elle lui paroist adorable, pour considerer 
 que c'est une simple mortelle sujette aux maladies, aux caprices, 
 et a la mauvaise humeur : il doit preparer sa Constance a soutenir 
 la perte de sa beauts, et amasser un fonds de complaisance, qui est 
 n^cessaire pour la conversation continuelle de la personne du 
 monde la plus raiaonnable et la moins inegale. La dame, de sou 
 cote, ne doit pas attendre une suite de flatteries et d'obeissance ; 
 elle se doit disposer elle-meme a ob^ir agreablement — science tres 
 difficile, et par consequence d'un grand merite aupres d'un homme 
 capable de le sentir. Elle doit tocher de relever les charmes d'uue 
 maitresse par le bon sens et la solidite d'une amie. Quand deux 
 personnes preoccupees par des sentimens si raisonnables sent unies 
 par des liens eternels, la nature entiere leur rit, et les objets les 
 plus communs leur deviennent charraants. II me semble que 
 c'est une vie infiniment plus douce, plus 61egante, et plus volup- 
 tueuse, que la galauterie la plus heureuse et la mieux conduite. 
 Une femme capable de reflexion ne peut regarder un amant autre- 
 
426 
 
 ESSAYS. 
 
 ment qu'un Beducteur, qui veut profiler de sa foibleese pour se 
 donner un plaisir d'un moment, aux depens de sa gloire, de son 
 repos, at peut-^tre de sa vie. Un voleur qui met le pistolet k la 
 gorge pour enleyer une bourse me paroist plus honnete, et moins 
 coupable ; et j'ai assez bonne opinion de moi pour croire que si 
 j'etois homme, je serois aussi capable de former le plan d'un 
 aasassinat, que celui de corrompre une honnete femme, estimee 
 dans le monde et heureuse dans son manage. Serois-je capable 
 d'empoisonner son ccBur en lui inspirant une passion funeste, a 
 laquelle il faut immoler I'honneur, la tranquillite, et la vertu ? Een- 
 drois-je meprisable une personne parce qu'elle me paroist aimable ? 
 Dois-je r^compenser sa tendresse en lui rendant sa maison en 
 horreiir, sea enfauts indifferents, et son mari deteste ? Je crois 
 que ces rMesions me paroistroient dans la meme force si mon 
 sexe m'avoit rendue excusable dans de pareils precedes, et j'espere 
 que j'aurois 6te assez sensee pour ne pas croire le vice moins 
 vicieux parce qu'il est a la mode. 
 
 J'estime beaucoup les moeurs Turques (peuple ignorant, mais 
 tres poll k ma fantaisie). TJn galant convaincu d' avoir debaucbe 
 une femme mariee est regarde parmi eux aveo la meme horreur 
 qu'une dame abandonnee chez nous. II est sur de ne jamais faire 
 fortune, et on auroit honte de donner une charge considerable a 
 un homme soupfonn^ d'avoir fait une injustice si ^norme. Que 
 diroit-on dans cette nation morale si on voyoit quelques-uns de 
 no3 anti-chevaliers-errans, qui sent toujours en poursuite d'aven- 
 tures pour mettre des filles innocentes en detresse et pour perdre 
 I'honneur des femmea de condition, qui ne regardent la beaute, la 
 jeunesse, le rang, et la vertu meme, que comme dea aiguillons 
 pour exciter le desir de les ruiner, et qui mettent toute leur gloire 
 k paroiatre des s^ducteurs habiles ; oubliant qu'avec tons leura 
 soins ils ne peuvent jamais atteiudre qu'au second rang de ce bel 
 escadron, les diables ayant it^ depuis si long-tempa en possession 
 du premier ? J'avoue que nos manieres barbares sont si bien cal- 
 cuMea pour I'^tablissement du vice et du malheur (qui en eat inse- 
 parable), qu'il favit avoir des tetes et dea coeurs infiniment au- 
 dessus du commun pour pouvoir jouir de la felicity d'un mariage 
 tel que je viens de le depeindre. La nature est si foible et si 
 port^e au changement, qu'il est difficile de soutenir la Constance la 
 mieux fondte parmi toutes les dissipations que nos coiitumes 
 
ESSAYS. 427 
 
 ridicules ont rendu inevitables. Tin mariam oureux a peine a 
 voir prendre k sa femme toutes les libert^a du bel usage : il paroist 
 y avoir de la duret^ a les refuser : et il se trouve r^duit, pour se 
 conformer aux mauieres polies de I'Barope, de voir tous les jours 
 ses mains en proye k qui les veut prendre, de I'entendre partager a 
 toute la terre les cbarmes de son esprit, la voir montrer sa gorge 
 en plein midi, se parer pour des bals et dea Bpectacles, s'attirer 
 des adorateurs, et ^couter les fades flatteries de mille et miUe 
 sots. Peut-on soutenir son estime pour une creature si publique ? 
 et ne perd-elle pas (au moins) beaucoup de son prix ? Je re- 
 viens toujours k mes manieres Orientales, ou les plus belles 
 femmes se contentent de limiter le pouvoir de leura charmes 
 k celui k qui il est permia d'en jouir : elles ont trop d'huma- 
 nite pour soubaiter de faire des mis^rables, et elles sent trop sin- 
 ceres pour ne pas avouer qu' elles se croient capables d'exciter des 
 passions. 
 
 Je me souviens d'une conversation que j'ai eue avec une dame 
 do grande quality k Constantinople (la plus aimable femme que 
 j'ai connue de ma vie, et pour qui j'ai eue ensuite une tendre 
 amitie) : elle m'avoua naivement qu'elle etoit contente de son 
 mari. Que vous etes libertines (me disoit-elle), vous autres 
 dames Chri^tiennes ! il vous est permis de recevoir les visites 
 d'autant d'hommes que vous voulez, et voa loix vous permettent 
 sans bornes I'usage de I'amour et du vin. Je I'assurai qu'elle 
 etoit fort mal inatruite ; qu'il etoit vrai que nous recevions des 
 visites, maia ces viaites etoient pleines du respect et du retenu, et 
 que c'etoit un crime d'entendre parler d'amour, ou d'aimer un 
 autre que son mari. Voa maria aont bien bona (me repliqua-t-elle 
 en riant) de se contenter d'une fidelity si bornee : voa yeux, vos 
 mains, votre conversation eat pour le public, et que pretendez-vous 
 r^server pour eux ? Pardonnez-moi, ma belle Sultane (ajouta-t- 
 elle en m'embraasant), j'ai toute I'inclination possible de croire tout 
 ce que vous me ditea, mais vous voulez m'imposer des imposaibi- 
 litea. Je sgai lea BaletiSa des infideljes ; je voye que vous en avez 
 honte, et je ne vous en parlerai plus. 
 
 J'ai trouve tant de bon sens et de vraisemblance en tout ce 
 qu'elle me disoit, que j'avois peine a la contredire ; et j'avouai 
 d'abord qu'elle avait raison de preferer les moeurs Muaulmanea 
 k nos coutumea ridicules, qui sont une confusion surprenante des 
 
428 ESSAYS. 
 
 maximes s^veres de la Christianisme avec tout le libertinage des 
 Lac6d6moniennes : et nonobstant no9 folles mameres, je suis du 
 sentiment qu'une femme d^termin^e k faire sonbonhenr deTamour 
 de son mari, doit abandonner le d^sir extravagant de se faire 
 adorer du public ; et qu'un mari qui aime tendrement sa femme, 
 doit se priver de la reputation d'etre galant k la cour. Vous 
 voyez que je suppose deux personnes bieu extraordinaires : il 
 n'est pas done for surprenant qu'une telle union soit bien rare 
 dans les pais oii il n^cessaire de m^priser les coutumes les plus 
 etablies pour ebre beureux. 
 
P E i¥ S. 
 
 JULIA TO OVID. 
 
 "Written at Twelve Years of Age, in imitation of Ovid's Epistles. 
 
 Aula love and power incapable to meet ? 
 And must they all be wretched who are great ? 
 Enslav'd by titles, and by forms confin'd, 
 Por wretched victims to the state design'd. 
 
 What rural maid, that my sad fortune knows, 
 Would quit her cottage to embrace my woes ? 
 Would be this cursed sacrifice to power, 
 This wretched daughter of Rome's emperour ? 
 When sick with sighs to absent Ovid given, 
 I tire with vows the unrelenting Heaven, 
 Drown' d in my tears, and with my sorrows pale. 
 What then do all my kindred gods avail ? 
 Let proud Augustus the whole world subdue. 
 Be mine to place all happiness in you ; 
 With nobler pride I can on thrones look down, 
 Can court your love and can despise a crown, — 
 
 O Love ! thou pleasure never dearly bought ! 
 Whose joys exceed the very lover's thought ; 
 Of that soft passion, when you teach the art, 
 In gentle sounds it steals into the heart ; 
 With such sweet magic does the soul surprise, 
 'Tis only taught us better by your eyes. 
 
 O Ovid ! first of the inspired train, 
 To Heaven I speak in that enchanting strain. 
 So sweet a voice can never plead in vain. 
 
430 POEMS. 
 
 Apollo will protect his favourite son, 
 And all the little Loves unto thy succour run. 
 The Loves and Muses in thy prayer shall join, 
 And all their wishea and their vows be thine ; 
 Some god will soften my hard leather's breast. 
 And work a miracle to make thee blest. 
 
 Hard as this is, I even this could bear,- 
 But greater ills than what I feel, I fear. 
 My fame — my Ovid — both for ever fled, 
 "What greater evil is there left to dread ! 
 
 Tes, there is one 
 
 Avert it, Q-ods, who do my sorrows see ! 
 
 Avert it, thou, who art a god to me ! 
 
 "When back to Rome your wishing eyes are cast, 
 
 And on the lessening towers you gaze your last — 
 
 "When fancy shall recal unto your view 
 
 Tbe pleasures now for ever lost to you, 
 
 The shining court, and all the thousand ways 
 
 To melt the nights and pass the happy days — 
 
 "Will you not sigh, and hate the wretched maid, 
 
 "Whose fatal love your safety has betray' d ? 
 
 Say that from me your banishment does come, 
 
 And curse the eyes that have expell'd you Eome ? 
 
 Those eyes, which now are weeping for your woes. 
 
 The sleep of death shall then for ever close. 
 
 lEEEGULAE VERSES TO TR"[JTH. 
 
 ■Written at Fourteen Years of Age. 
 
 "Wheee, lovely Goddess, dost thou dwell ? 
 In what remote and silent shade ? 
 "Within what cave or lonely cell ? 
 "With what old hermit, or unpractis'd maid ? 
 In vain I've sought thee all around. 
 But thy unfashionable sound 
 In crowds was never heard. 
 Nor ever has thy form in town or court appear'd. 
 
POEMS. 431 
 
 The sanctuary is not safe to thee, 
 
 Ohas'd thence by endless mystery ; 
 
 Thy own professors chase thee thence, 
 And wage eternal war with thee and sense ; 
 
 Then in perplexing comments lost, 
 E'en when they would be thought to show the most. 
 
 Most beautiful when most distress' d. 
 
 Descend, O Goddess, to my breast ; 
 There thou may'st reign, unrivall'd and alone. 
 My thoughts thy subjects, and my heart thy throne. 
 
 SONG-. 
 
 How happy is the harden'd heart, 
 
 Where interest is the only view ! 
 
 Can sigh and meet, or smile and part, 
 
 Wor pleas'd, nor griev'd, nor false, nor true — 
 
 Tet, have they truly peace of mind ? 
 Or do they ever truly know 
 
 The bliss sincerer tempers find, 
 "Which truth and virtue can bestow ? 
 
 THE LADT'S EESOLVE. 
 
 "Written on a -window, soon after her marriage, 1713. 
 
 "Whilst thirst of praise and vain desire of fame, 
 
 In every age, is every woman's aim ; 
 
 "With courtship pleas'd, of silly toasters proud, 
 
 Eond of a train, and happy in a crowd ; 
 
 On each proud fop bestowing some kind glance, 
 
 Each conq[uest owing to some loose advance ; 
 
 "While vain coquets afiect to be pursued, 
 
 And think they're virtuous, if not grossly lewd : 
 
 Let this great maxim be my virtue's guide ; 
 
 In part she is to blame that has been try'd — 
 
 He comes too near, that comes to be deny'd.' 
 
 • Mr. Peter Cunningham, in a manuscript note, remarks that this very line 
 occurs in Ben Jonson's conversation with Drummond. — T. 
 
432 POEMS. 
 
 TOWN EOLOGUES.i 
 
 "Written in the Year 1716. 
 
 MONDAY. 
 
 BOXANA ; OE, THE DKAWINa-BOOM. 
 
 EoxANA,^ from the court retiring late, 
 Sigt'd her soft sorrows at St. James's gate. 
 
 ' Mr. Dallaway having found that Pope, in one of his letters to Lady Mary (see 
 vol. i. p. 432), promises to conceal a manuscript copy of these Eclogues " from all 
 profane eyes ;" and believing that the whole of them were subsequently published 
 by Curl!, with Pope's connivance, has stated in his Memoir of Lady Mary that 
 this was the cause which aggravated their dissension '* into implacability." The 
 statement is entirely founded in ertor. It is true that three of these Eclogues 
 were published by Curll, through his fellow-bookseller Roberts ; but this publica- 
 tion took place in March, 1716, before Lady Mary left England for Constantinople, 
 and long before the date of the letter of Pope referred to. Lord Wharncliife gives 
 the following title and preface from Roberts's edition : 
 
 COURT POEMS, 
 viz. 
 
 1. The Basset-Table, an Eclooue. 
 
 2. The Drawing-Room. 
 
 3. The Toilet. 
 
 Published faithfully as they were found in a Pocket-Book taken up in 
 Westminster Hall, the last day of the Lord Winton's trial. 
 
 London : printed for J. Roberts, near the Oxford Arms, in "Warwick-lane, 1706. 
 [1716.] Price Sixpence. 
 
 Then follows an 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The reader is acquainted from the title-page how I came possessed of the fol- 
 lowing poems. All that I have to add, is only a word or two concerning their 
 author. Upon reading them over at St. James's Coffee-house, they were attributed, 
 by the general voice, to he the productions of a lady of quality. "When I pro- 
 duced them at Button's, the poetical jury there brought in a different verdict ; and 
 the foreman strenuously insisted upon it, that Mr. Gay was the man, and declared, 
 in comparing the Basset Table with that gentleman's Pastorals, he found the style 
 and turn of thought to be evidently the same, which confirmed him, and his 
 brethren, in the sentence they had pronounced. Not content with these two deci- 
 sions, I was resolved to call in an umpire ; and accordingly chose a gentleman of 
 distinguished merit, who lives not far from Chelsea. I sent him the papers, which 
 he returned to me the next day, with this answer : 
 
 " Sir, — Depend upon it, these lines could come from no other hand than the ju- 
 dicious translator of Homer." 
 
 Thus having impartially given the sentiments of the Town, I hope I may de- 
 serve thanks for the pains I have taken in endeavouring to find out the author of 
 these valuable performances, and everybody is at liberty to bestow the laurel as 
 they please. 
 
 Curll charged Pope with having attempted to poison him in revenge for this 
 publication, which gave rise to the humorous " Account of a Horrid and Bar- 
 barous Revenge by Poison on the body of Mr. Edmund Curl], bookseller," which 
 will be found among Pope's works. The remaining three Eclogues do not seem 
 to have been published till 1747, when Horace "Walpole, apparently without any 
 authority, published them in 4to, with Lady Mary's initials. — T. 
 
 2 Mary Finch, Duchess of Roxburgh, a daughter of Daniel Earl of Nottingham, 
 
POEMS. 433 
 
 Such heavy thoughts lay brooding in her breast, 
 Not her own chairmen with more weight oppress'd ; 
 They groan the cruel load they're doom'd to bear ; 
 She in these gentle sounds express'd her care. 
 
 " Was it for this that I these roses wear ? 
 Por this new-set the jewels for my hair ? 
 Ah ! Princess ! ' with what zeal have I pursued ! 
 Almost forgot the duty of a prude. 
 Thinking I never could attend too soon, 
 I've niiss'd my prayers, to get me dress'd by noon. 
 Por thee, ah ! what for thee did I resign ? 
 My pleasures, passions, all that e'er was mine. 
 I sacrific'd both modesty and ease. 
 Left operas and went to filthy plays ; 
 Double-entendres shock my tender ear ; 
 Tet even this for thee I choose to bear. 
 In glowing youth, when nature bids be gay, 
 Ajid every joy of life before me lay. 
 By honour prompted, and by pride restrain'd, 
 The pleasures of the young my soul disdain'd -. 
 Sermons I sought, and with a mien severe 
 Censur'd my neighbours, and said daily pray'r. 
 
 "Alas! how chang'd — with the same sermon-mien 
 That once I pray'd, the TfTiat d'l/e call 't'^ I've seen. 
 Ah ! cruel Princess, for thy sake I've lost 
 That reputation which so dear had cost : 
 I, who avoided every public place. 
 When bloom and beauty bade me show my face. 
 Now near thee constant every night abide 
 With never-failing duty by thy side f 
 Myself and daughters standing on a row. 
 To aU the foreigners a goodly show ! 
 Oft had your drawing-room been sadly thin, 
 And merchants' wives close by the chair been seen. 
 
 She married, first, William Marquis of Halifax, and afterwards John first Duke of 
 Roxburgh. See allusion to her, vol. i. p. 488. — T. 
 
 ' The Princess of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline. — D. 
 
 ' A farce, by Gay. — D. First performed in February, 1715.— T. 
 
 ' This refers only to the duchess's assiduity in paying court. I do not find that 
 she ever held any place about the princess. — T. 
 
 VOL. II. 2 r 
 
434 POEMS. 
 
 Had not I amply filled the empty space, 
 
 And saved your highness from the dire disgrace. 
 
 " Tet Coquetilla's^ artifice prevails, 
 When all my merit and my duty fails ; 
 That Coquetilla, whose deluding airs 
 Corrupt our virgins, still our youth ensnares ; 
 So sunk her character, so lost her fame. 
 Scarce visited before your highness came : 
 Tet for the bed-chamber 'tis her you choose, 
 "When zeal and fame and virtue you refuse. 
 Ah ! worthy choice ! not one of all your train 
 Whom censure blasts not, and dishonours stain ! 
 Let the nice hind now suckle dirty pigs. 
 And the proud pea-hen hatch the cuckoo's eggs ! 
 Let Iris leave her paint and own her age, 
 And grave Sufiblka^ wed a giddy page ! 
 A greater miracle is daily view'd, 
 A virtuous Princess with a court so lewd. 
 
 " I know thee, court ! with aU thy treach'rous wiles. 
 Thy false caresses and undoing smiles ! 
 Ah ! Princess, learn'd in all the courtly arts. 
 To cheat our hopes, and yet to gain our hearts ! 
 
 " Large lovely bribes are the great statesman's aim ; 
 And the neglected patriot follows fame. 
 The Prince is ogled ; some the King pursue ; 
 But your Eoxana only follows you. 
 Despis'd Eoxana, cease, and try to find 
 Some other, since the Princess proves unkind : 
 Perhaps it is not hard to find at court, 
 If not a greater, a more firm support." 
 
 TUESDAY.— ST. JAMES'S COFFEE-HOUSE. 
 SILLIANDEH. AND PATCH. 
 
 Thoit, who SO many favours hast receiv'd, 
 Wond'rous to tell, and hard to be believ'd, 
 
 • Coquetilla, according to Horace Walpole, meant the Duchess of Shrewsbury- 
 She was an Italian lady, a daughter of the Marquis Paleotti of Bologna, and was 
 said to he a woman of violent temper. Her husband was Charles Talbot, the first 
 Duke of Shrewsbury. She was appointed lady of the bedchamber to Caroline 
 Princess of Wales in October, 1714. — T. 
 
 2 This appears to refer to the same Lady Suffolk mentioned in one of the Let- 
 ters during the Embassy (see vol. i. p. 244}. \Who she was 1 am unable to ascer- 
 tain.— T. 
 
POEMS. 435 
 
 Oh ! Hervey,^ to my lays attention lend, 
 Hear how two lovers boastingly contend ; 
 Like thee successful, such their bloomy youth, 
 Eenown'd alike for gallantry and truth. 
 
 St. James's bell had toll'd some wretches in 
 (As tatter'd riding-hoods alone could sin). 
 The happier sinners now their charms recruit, 
 And to their manteaus their complexion suit ; 
 The opera queens had finish'd half their faces, 
 And city dames already taken places ; 
 Fops of all kinds, to see the Lion,^ run ; 
 The beauties stay till the first act's begun, 
 And beaux step home to put fresh linen on. 
 No well-dress'd youth in coffee-house remain'd 
 But pensive Patch, who on the window lean'd ; 
 And Silliander, that, alert and gay, 
 First pick'd his teeth, and then began to say : 
 
 SILLIANDEE. 
 
 Why all these sighs ? ah ! why so pensive grown ? 
 Some cause there is why thus you sit alone. 
 Does hapless passion all this sorrow move ? 
 Or dost thou envy where the ladies love ? 
 
 PATCH. 
 
 If, whom they love, my envy must pursue, 
 'Tis true at least I never envy you. 
 
 SILLIANDEE. 
 
 Hfo, I'm unhappy — you are in the right — 
 'Tis you they favour, and 'tis me they slight. 
 Tet I could tell, but that I hate to boast, 
 A club of ladies where 'tis me they toast. 
 
 PATCH. 
 
 Toasting does seldom any favour prove ; 
 Like us, they never toast the thing they love. 
 A certain duke one night my health begun ; 
 With cheerful pledges round the room it run, 
 'Till the young Silvia, press'd to drink it too, 
 Started, and vow'd she knew not what to do : 
 
 ' Lord Viscount Hervey. — D. 
 
 ' See letter to Mrs. Hewet, vol. i. p. 151. 
 
 2 f2 
 
436 FOEMS. 
 
 What, drink a fellow's health ! she died with shame 
 Tet blush'd whenever she pronounc'd my name. 
 
 SILLIANDEB. 
 
 Ill fates pursue me, may I never find 
 The dice propitious, or the ladies kind. 
 If fair Miss Plippy's fan I did not tear. 
 And one from me she condescends to wear ! 
 
 PATCH. 
 
 Women are always ready to receive ; 
 'Tis then a favour when the sex we give. 
 A lady (but she is too great to name), 
 Beauteous in person, spotless in her fame. 
 With gentle strugglings let me force this ring ; 
 Another day may give another thing. 
 
 SIELIANDEB. 
 
 I could say something — see this billet-doux — 
 And as for presents — look upon my shoe — 
 These buckles were not forc'd, nor half a theft, 
 But a young countess fondly made the gift. 
 
 PATCH. 
 
 My countess is more nice, more artful too, 
 Aifects to fly, that I may fierce pursue : 
 This snuff-box which I begg'd, she still deny'd. 
 And when I strove to snatch it, seem'd to hide ; 
 She laugh'd and fled, and as I sought to seize. 
 With affectation cramm'd it down her stays ; 
 Tet hop'd she did not place it there unseen, 
 I press'd her breasts, and pull'd it from between. 
 
 StLMANDEB,. 
 
 Last night, as I stood ogling of her Grace, 
 Drinking delicious poison from her face, 
 The soft enchantress did that face decline, 
 Nor ever rais'd her eyes to meet with mine ; 
 With sudden art some secret did pretend, 
 Lean'd cross two chairs to whisper to a friend. 
 While the stiff whalebone with the motion rose. 
 And thousand beauties to my sight expose. 
 
POEMS. 437 
 
 PATCH. 
 
 Early this morn — (but I was ask'd to come) 
 I drank bohea in Celia's dresBing-room : 
 Warm from her bed, to me alone within, 
 Her night-gown fasten' d with a single pin; 
 Her night-clotliea tumbled with resistless grace. 
 And her bright hair play'd careless round her face ; 
 Reaching the kettle made her gown unpin, 
 She wore no waistcoat, and her shift was thin, 
 
 STLLIANDEB. 
 
 See Titiana driving to the park ! 
 Haste ! let us follow, 'tis not yet too dark : 
 In her all beauties of the spring are seen. 
 Her cheeks are rosy, and her mantle green. 
 
 PATCH. 
 
 See Tintoretta to the opera goes ! 
 Haste ! or the crowd will not permit our bows ; 
 In her the glory of the heav'ns we view. 
 Her eyes are star-like, and her mantle blue. 
 
 SILIIANDEII. 
 
 What colour does in Celia's stockings shine ? 
 Reveal that secret, and the prize is thine. 
 
 PATCH. 
 
 "What are her garters ? Tell me, if you can ; 
 I'll freely own thee far the happier man. 
 
 Thus Patch continued his heroic strain, 
 "While Silliander but contends in vain ; 
 After a contest so important gain'd, 
 Unrivall'd Patch in every ruelle reign'd. 
 
 WEDNESDAY.— THE TETE-A-TETE. 
 DANCINDA. 
 
 " No, fair Dancinda, no ; you strive in vain 
 To calm my care, and mitigate my pain ; 
 If all my sighs, my cares, can fail to move, 
 Ah ! soothe me not with fruitless vows of love." 
 
438 POEMS. 
 
 Thus Strephon spoke. Dancinda thus replied ; 
 
 " "What must I do to gratify your pride ? 
 
 Too well you know (ungrateful as thou art) 
 
 How much you triumph in this tender heart : 
 
 " "What proof of love remains for me to grant ? 
 
 Tet still you teaze me with some new complaint. 
 
 Oh ! would to heaven ! — but the fond wish is vain— 
 
 Too many favours had not made it plain ! 
 
 But such a passion breaks through all disguise, 
 
 Love reddens on my cheek, and wishes in my eyes. 
 
 Is't not enough (inhuman and imkind !) 
 
 I own the secret conflict of my mind P 
 
 Tou cannot know what secret pain I prove, 
 
 When I, with burning blushes, own I love. 
 
 Tou see my artless joy at your approach, 
 
 I sigh, I faint, I tremble at your touch ; 
 
 And in your absence all the world I shun ; 
 
 I hate mankind, and curse the cheering sun ; 
 
 Still as I fly, ten thousand swains pursue ; 
 
 Ten thousand swains I sacrifice to you. 
 
 I show you all my heart without disguise ; 
 
 But these are tender proofs that you despise — 
 
 I see too well what wishes you pursue ; 
 
 Tou would not only conquer, but undo : 
 
 Tou, cruel victor, weary of your flame. 
 
 Would seek a cure in my eternal shame ; 
 
 And, not content my honour to subdue, 
 
 Now strive to triumph o'er my virtue too. 
 
 O Love ! a god indeed to womankind. 
 
 Whose arrows burn me, and whose fetters bind, 
 
 Avenge thy altars, vindicate thy fame. 
 
 And blast these traitors that profane thy name 
 
 Who, by pretending to thy sacred fire, 
 
 Eaise cursed trophies to impure desire. 
 
 " Have you forgot with what ensnaring art, 
 Tou first seduc'd this fond uncautioua heart ? 
 Then as I fled, did you not kneeling cry, 
 ' Turn, cruel beauty ; whither would you fly ? 
 Why all these doubts ? why this distrustful fear ? 
 No impious wishes shall ofiend your ear : 
 
POEMS. 439 
 
 Nor ever shall my boldest hopes pretend 
 Above the title of a tender friend ; 
 Blest, if my lovely goddess will permit 
 My humble vows thus sighing at her feet. 
 The tyrant, Love, that in my bosom reigna, 
 The god himself submits to wear your chains ; 
 Tou shall direct his course, his ardour tame, 
 And check the fury of his wUdeat flame.' 
 
 " Unpractis'd youth is easily deceived ; 
 Sooth'd by such sounds I listen'd and believ'd : 
 Now quite forgot that soft submissive fear, 
 You dare to ask what I must blush to hear. 
 
 " Could I forget the honour of my race, 
 And meet your wishes, fearless of disgrace ; 
 Could passion o'er my tender youth prevail, 
 And all my mother's pious maxims fail ; 
 Tet to preserve your heart (which still must be, 
 False as it is, for ever dear to me) 
 This fatal proof of love I would not give. 
 Which you'd contemn the moment you receive. 
 The wretched she, who yields to guilty joys, 
 A man may pity, but he must despise. 
 Tour ardour ceas'd, I then should see you shun 
 The wretched victim by your arts undone. 
 Tet if I could that cold indifference bear. 
 What more would strike me with the last despair. 
 With this reflection would my soul be torn, 
 To know I merited your cruel scorn. 
 
 " Has love no pleasures free from guilt or fear ? 
 Pleasures less fierce, more lasting, more sincere F 
 Thus let us gently kiss and fondly gaze ; 
 Love is a child, and like a child he plays, 
 
 " O Strephon ! if you would continue just. 
 If love be something more than brutal lust. 
 Forbear to ask what I must still deny. 
 This bitter pleasure, this destructive joy. 
 So closely foUow'd by the dismal train 
 Of cutting shame, and guilt's heart-piercing pain." 
 
 She paus'd, and fix'd her eyes upon her fan ! 
 He took a pinch of snuff", and thus began : 
 
440 POEMS. 
 
 " Madam, if love " But he could say no more, 
 
 !For Mademoiselle came rapping at the door. 
 
 The dangerous moments no adieus afford : 
 
 — " Begone," she cries, " I'm sure I hear my lord." 
 
 The lover starts from his unflnish'd loves. 
 
 To snatch his hat, and seek his scatter'd gloves : 
 
 The sighing dame to meet her dear prepares, 
 
 "While Strephon, cursing, slips down the back stairs. 
 
 THURSDAY.— THE BASSETTE-TABLE. 
 SMIIiINDA AND OAEDELTA. 
 CAEDELIA. 
 
 The Bassette-Table spread, the Tallier come ; 
 Why stays Smilinda in her dressing-room ? 
 Rise, pensive nymph ! the Tallier waits for you. 
 
 SMILIKDA. 
 
 Ah ! madam, since my Sharper is untrue, 
 I joyless make my once ador'd alpiu. 
 I saw him stand behind Ombrelia's chair. 
 And whisper with that soft deluding air, 
 And those feign'd sighs, which cheat the list'ning fair. 
 
 CAEDELIA. 
 
 Is this the cause of your romantic strains ? 
 A mightier grief my heavier heart sustains. 
 As you by Love, so I by Fortune cross'd. 
 In one bad deal three septlevas have lost. 
 
 SMILINDA. 
 
 Is that the grief which you compare with mine ! 
 With ease the smiles of Fortune I resign : 
 Would all my gold in one bad deal were gone ; 
 Were lovely Sharper mine, and mine alone ! 
 
 CAEDELIA. 
 
 A lover lost is but a common care : 
 And prudent nymphs against that change prepare. 
 The knave of clubs thrice lost : oh ! who could guess 
 This fatal stroke ! this unforeseen distress ? 
 
POEMS. 441 
 
 SMILUTDA. 
 
 See ! Betty Loveit, very a propos. 
 She all the care of love and play does know ; 
 Dear Betty shall th' important point decide ; 
 Betty, who oft the pain of each has try'd ; 
 Impartial she shall say who suffers most, 
 By cards' ill usaye, or by lovers lost. 
 
 LOVEIT. 
 
 Tell, tell your griefs ; attentive will I stay. 
 Though time is precious, and I want some tea. 
 
 CABDELIA. 
 
 Behold this equipage, by Mathers wrought. 
 With fifty guineas (a great penn'orth !) bought. 
 See on the toothpick, Mars and Cupid strive ; 
 And both the struggling figures seem alive. 
 Upon the bottom shines the quSen's bright face ; 
 A myrtle foliage round the thimble case. 
 Jove, Jove himself, does on the scissors shine ; 
 The metal, and the workmanship divine ! 
 
 SMILINDA. 
 
 This snuff'-hox, once the pledge of Sharper's love, 
 When rival beauties for the present strove ; 
 At Corticelli's he the raffle won ; 
 Then first his passion was in public shown : 
 Hazardia blush'd, and turn'd her head aside, 
 A rival's envy (all in vain) to hide. 
 This snuff-hox — on the hinge see brilliants shine : 
 This snuff-box will I stake, the prize is mine. 
 
 OAEDELIA. 
 
 Alas ! far lesser losses than I bear. 
 Have made a soldier sigh, a lover swear, 
 And, oh ! what makes the disappointment hard, 
 'Twas my own lord that drew the fatal card. 
 In complaisance I took the queen he gave. 
 Though my own secret wish was for the knave. 
 The knave won Sonica which I had chose ; 
 And the neiA, pull my septleva I lose. 
 
442 POEMS- 
 
 SMIIINDA. 
 
 But, ah ! what aggravates the killing smart, 
 The cruel thought that stahs me to the heart ; 
 This curs'd Ombrelia, this undoing fair. 
 By whose vile arts this heavy grief I bear ; 
 She, at whose name I shed these spiteful tears, 
 She owes to me the very charms she wears : 
 An awkward thing when first she came to town ; 
 Her shape unfashion'd, and her face unknown : 
 She was my friend, I taught her first to spread 
 Upon her sallow cheeks enlivening red. 
 I introduc'd her to the park and plays ; 
 And by my int'rest Cosinsi made her stays. 
 Ungrateful wretch ! with mimic airs grown pert, 
 She dares to steal my favourite lover's heart. 
 
 OAEDELIA. 
 
 "Wretch that I was ! how often have I swore, 
 "When Winnall tallied, I -wovlM punt no more ? 
 I know the bite, yet to my ruin run ; 
 And see the folly which I cannot shun. 
 
 SMILINDA. 
 
 How many minds have Sharper's vows deceiv'd ! 
 How many curs'd the moment they believ'd ! 
 Yet his known falsehoods could no warning prove ; 
 Ah ! what is warning to a maid in love ? 
 
 CARDELIA. 
 
 But of what marble must that breast be form'd. 
 To gaze on Bassette, and remain unwarm'd ? 
 When kings, queens, knaves, are set in decent rank, 
 Expos'd in glorious heaps the tempting bank, 
 Guineas, half-guineas, all the shining train ; 
 The winner's pleasure, and the loser's pain : 
 In bright confusion open rouleaus lie. 
 They strike the soul, and glitter in the eye. 
 Fir'd by the sight, all reason I disdain : 
 My passions rise, and will not bear the rein. 
 
 ' I learn from a note to Pope's unacknowledged poem, entitled "Sober Advico 
 from Horace," that there was " a famous staymaker of this name." — T. 
 
POEMS. 443 
 
 Look upon Bassette, you who reason boast ; 
 And see if reason must not there be lost. 
 
 BMILITTDA. 
 
 Wtat more than marble must that heart compose, 
 Can hearken coldly to my Sharper's vows ? 
 Then when he trembles, when his blushes rise, 
 When awful love seems melting in his eyes, 
 With eager beats his Mechlin cravat moves : 
 He loves, I whisper to myself, he loves ! 
 Such unfeign'd passion in his looks appears, 
 I lose all mem'ry of my former fears : 
 My panting heart confesses all his charms, 
 I yield at once, and sink into his arms : 
 Think of that moment, you who prudence boast. 
 For such a moment, prudence well were lost. 
 
 OAEDELIA. 
 
 At the Qroom-porter's, batter'd bullies play. 
 Some duhes ' at Marybone bowl time away. 
 But who the bowl, or rattling dice, compares 
 To Bassette's heavenly joys and pleasing cares ? 
 
 SMILINDA. 
 
 Soft Simplicetta doats upon a beau ; 
 Prudina likes a man, and laughs at show. 
 Their several graces in my Sharper meet ; 
 Strong as the footman, as the master sweet. 
 
 LOVEIT. 
 
 Cease your contention, which has been too long 
 I grow impatient, and the tea too strong. 
 Attend, and yield to what I now decide ; 
 The equipage shall grace Smilinda'a side : 
 The snuff-box to Cardelia I decree : 
 Now leave complaining, and begin your tea. 
 
 FRIDAY.— THE TOILETTE. 
 LTDIA.^ 
 
 Now twenty springs had cloth'd the Park with green. 
 Since Lydia knew^ the blossom of fifteen ; 
 
 Alluding to John Sheffield Duke of Buckingham, the poet. — T. 
 
 Although I am compelled to assume that this Eclogue was found by Mr. Dal-. 
 
444 POEMS. 
 
 No lovers now her morning hours molest, 
 
 And catch her at her toilet half undrest. 
 
 The thund'ring knocker wakes the street no more, 
 
 Nor chairs, nor coaches, crowd the silent door; 
 
 Now at the window all her mornings pass, 
 
 Or at the dumb devotion of her glass : 
 
 Eeclin'd upon her arm she pensive sate. 
 
 And curs'd th' inconstancy of man too late. 
 
 " O youth ! O spring of life, for ever lost ! 
 No more my name shall reign the fav'rite toast : 
 On glass no more the diamond grave my name. 
 And lines mis-spelt record my lover's flame : 
 Nor shall side-boxes watch my wand'ring eyes. 
 And, as they catch the glance, in rows arise 
 "With humble bows ; nor white-glov'd beaux encroach 
 In crowds behind, to guard me to my coach. 
 
 " What shall I do to spend the hateful day ? 
 At chapel shall I v?ear the morn away ? 
 "Who there appears at these unmodish hours, 
 But ancient matrons with their frizzled tow'rs, 
 And gray religious maids ? My presence there, 
 Amidst that sober train, would own despair ? 
 Nor am I yet so old, nor is my glance 
 As yet fix'd wholly on devotion's trance. 
 Strait then I'll dress, and take my wonted range 
 Through India shops, to Motteux's,^ or the Change, 
 Where the tall jar erects its stately pride. 
 With antic shapes in China's azure dy'd ; 
 There careless lies a rich brocade unroll'd. 
 Here shines a cabinet with burnish'd gold. 
 But then, alas ! I must be forc'd to pay, 
 And bring no penn'orths, not a fan away ! 
 
 laway and Lord Wharncliffe in the manuscript collection of poems *' verified by 
 Lady Mary's own hand as written by her," it is impossible to doubt that it was 
 written by Gay. It does not appear in the manuscript copy of the Eclogues 
 bound in " red Turkey," to which Pope refers in his letters. Pope's statement, 
 according to Spence {Anecdotes, 2nd edit. 1858, p. 221), was as follows: "Lydia 
 in Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's poems is almost wholly Gay's, and is published 
 as such in his Works. [It appears in Gay's Poems, 4to, 1720.] There are only 
 five or six lines new set in it by that lady. It was that which gave the hint ; and 
 she wrote the other five Eclogues." The idea of " Town Eclogues" certainly 
 appears to have been Gay's. His "Araminta, a Town Eclogue," was published 
 in Steele's Miscellanies, 1714. — T. 
 ' See note on next poem. — T. 
 
POEMS. 445 
 
 " How am I curs' d, unhappy and forlorn ! 
 My lover's triumph, and ray sex's scorn ! 
 Palse is the pompous grief of youthful heirs ; 
 False are the loose coquet's inyeigling airs ; 
 False is the crafty courtier's plighted word ; 
 False are the dice when gamesters stamp the board ; 
 False is the sprightly widow's public tear ; 
 Yet these to Damon's oaths are all sincere. 
 
 " For what young flirt, base man, am I abus'd ? 
 To please your wife am I unkindly us'd ? 
 'Tis true her face may boast the peach's bloom ; 
 But does her nearer whisper breathe perfume ? 
 I own her taper shape is form'd to please ; 
 But don't you see her unconfin'd by stays ? 
 She doubly to fifteen may claim pretence ; 
 Alike we read it in her face and sense. 
 Insipid, servile thing ! whom I disdain ; 
 Her phlegm can best support the marriage chain. 
 Damon is practis'd in the modish life, 
 Can hate, and yet be civil to his wife : 
 He games, he drinks, he swears, he fights, he roves ; 
 Tet Chloe can believe he fondly loves. 
 Mistress and wife by turns supply his need ; 
 A miss for pleasure, and a wife for breed. 
 Powder'd with diamonds, free from spleen or care, 
 She can a sullen husband's humour bear ; 
 Her credulous friendship and her stupid ease, 
 Have often been my jest in happier days ; 
 How Chloe boasts and triumphs in my pains ! 
 To her he's faithful ; 'tis to me he feigns. 
 Am I that stupid thing^^ to bear neglect, 
 And force a smile, not daring to suspect ? 
 No, perjur'd man ! a wife may be content ; 
 But you shall find a mistress can resent." 
 
 Thus love-sick Lydia rav'd ; her maid appears, 
 And in her faithful hand the band-box bears^ 
 
 ^ In the original edition, " senseless thing." — W. 
 2 In the original edition, 
 
 " With steady hand, the band-box charge she bears ;" 
 
 and the next two. lines do not appear.— W. 
 
446 POEMS. 
 
 (The cestus, that reformed inconstant Jove, 
 Not better fill'd with what allur'd to love) ; 
 " How well this ribbon's gloss becomes your face !" 
 She cries in rapture ; " then so sweet a lace ! ^ 
 How charmingly you look ! so bright ! so fair ! 
 'Tis to your eyes the head-dress owes its air !" 
 Straight Lydia smiled ; the comb adjusts her locks ; 
 And at the play-house Harry keeps her box. 
 
 SATURDAY.— THE SMALL-POX. 
 TLAVIA.^ 
 
 The wretched Plavia, on her couch reclin'd, 
 Thus breath'd the anguish of a wounded mind, 
 A glass revers'd in her right hand she bore. 
 For now she shunn'd the face she sought before. 
 
 " How am I chang'd ! alaa ! how am I grown 
 A frightful spectre to myself unknown ! 
 Where's my complexion ? where my radiant bloom, 
 That promis'd happiness for years to come ? 
 Then with what pleasure I this face survey'd ! 
 To look once more, my visits oft delay'd ! 
 Charm'd with the view, a fresher red would rise, 
 And a new life shot sparkHug from my eyes ! 
 
 " Ah ! faithless glass, my wonted bloom restore ; 
 Alas ! I rave, that bloom is now no more ! 
 The greatest good the gods on men bestow, 
 Ev'n youth itself, to me is useless now. 
 There was a time (oh ! that I could forget !) 
 When opera-tickets pour'd before my feet ; 
 And at the Eing, where brightest beauties shine. 
 The earliest cherries of the spring were mine. 
 Witness, O Lilly ;' and thou, Motteux, tell, 
 How much japan these eyes have made ye seU. 
 
 * In the original edition, " grace." — W. 
 
 2 Lady Hertford appears to have regarded thia poem as expressing Lady Mary's 
 own feelings on being attacked with small-pox. — See Hertf, and Pornf, Corresp.^ 
 2nd edit. ii. 169.— T. 
 
 ' Charles Lilly, who was one of the publishers of the Tatler, a perfumer at the 
 comer of Beaufort-buildings in the Strand, and no doubt a dealer in China and Japan 
 knick-knacks. Motteux was equally well known as a poet, and a " china-man," or 
 dealer in tea and Chinese curiosities. His poem on Tea (Tonson, 1712) has a 
 
POEMS. 447 
 
 With what contempt ye saw me oft despise 
 The humble offer of the raffled prize ; 
 For at each raffle still each prize I bore, 
 "With scorn rejected, or with triumph wore ! 
 Now beauty's fled, and presents are no more ! 
 
 " For me theif)atriot has the House forsook. 
 And left debates to catch a passing look : 
 For me the soldier has soft verses writ : 
 For me the beau has aim'd to be a wit. 
 For me the wit to nonsense was betray'd ; 
 The gamester has for me his dun delay'd, 
 And overseen the card he would have play'd. 
 The bold and haughty, by success made vain, 
 Aw'd by my eyes have trembled to complain : 
 The bashful 'squire, touch' d by a wish unknown, 
 Has dar'd to speak with spirit not his own : 
 Fir'd by one wish, all did alike adore ; 
 Now beauty's fled, and lovers are no more ! 
 
 " As round the room I turn my weeping eyes. 
 New unaifected scenes of sorrow rise. 
 Par from my sight that killing picture bear, 
 The face disfigure, and the canvas tear : 
 That picture which with pride I used to show. 
 The lost resemblance that upbraids me now. 
 And thou, my toilette ! where I oft have sat. 
 While hours unheeded pass'd in deep debate 
 How curls should fall, or where a patch to place ; 
 If blue or scarlet best became my face : 
 Now on some happier nymph your aid bestow ; 
 On fairer heads, ye useless jewels, glow ! 
 No borrow'd lustre can my charms restore ; 
 Beauty is fled, and dress is now no more ! 
 
 " Te meaner beauties, I permit ye shine ; 
 Go, triumph in the hearts that once were mine : 
 
 prefatory address to the Spectator, dated from his chma shop in Leadenhall-street, 
 ■wherein he says : " Traflic wUl hardly let poetry, which once seemed my business, 
 be so much aa my diversion." He came to a mysterious end in 1718, there being 
 great suspicion of his having been murdered. His " Japan" ware and other cu- 
 riosities were advertised to be sold for the benefit of his widow in the DaUy Courant 
 of Feb. 26, 1718.— T. 
 
448 POEMS. 
 
 But 'midst your triumphs -with confusion know, 
 'Tis to my ruin all your charms ye owe. 
 "Would pitying Heav'n restore my wonted mien, 
 Te still might move unthought of and imseen : 
 But oh, how vain, how wretched is the boast 
 Of beauty faded, and of empire lost ! 
 "What now is left but, weeping, to deplore 
 My beauty fled, and empire now no more ! 
 
 " Te cruel chemists, what withheld your aid ? 
 Could no pomatum save a trembling maid ? 
 How false and trifling is that art ye boast ! 
 No art can give me back my beauty lost. 
 In tears, surrounded by my friends, I lay 
 Mask'd o'er, and trembled at the sight of day ; 
 Mirmillio came my fortune to deplore 
 (A golden-headed cane well carv'd he bore), 
 Cordials, he cried, my spirits must restore ! 
 Beauty is fled, and spirit is no more ! 
 
 " Galen, the grave officious Squirt was there. 
 "With fruitless grief and unavailing care ; 
 Machaon too, the great Machaon, known 
 By his red cloak and his superior frown ; 
 Ajid why, he cried, this grief and this despair ? 
 Tou shall again be well, again be fair ; 
 Believe my oath (with that an oath he swore) ; 
 False was his oath ; my beauty was no more ! 
 
 " Cease, hapless maid, no more thy tale pursue, 
 Porsake mankind, and bid the world adieu ! 
 Monarchs and beauties rule with equal sway : 
 All strive to serve, and glory to obey : 
 Alike unpitied when depos'd they grow. 
 Men mock the idol of their former vow. 
 
 " Adieu ! ye parks — in some obscure recess. 
 Where gentle streams will weep at my distress, 
 Where no false friend will in my grief take part, 
 And mourn my ruin with a joyful heart ; 
 There let me live in some deserted place, 
 There hide in shades this lost inglorious face. 
 Plays, operas, circles, I no more must view ! 
 My toilette, patches, all the world adieu !" 
 
POEMS. 449 
 
 VEESES,' 
 
 Written in the Chiosk of the British Palace, at Pera, overlooking the city of 
 Constantinople, Dec. 26, 1718 [1717]. 
 
 Give me, great God! said I, a little farm, 
 
 In summer shady, and in winter warm ; 
 
 Where a clear spring gives birth to murm'ring brooks, 
 
 By nature gliding down the mossy rocks. 
 
 Not artfully by leaden pipes convey'd. 
 
 Or greatly falling in a forc'd cascade, 
 
 Pure and unsullied winding through the shade. 
 
 All bounteous Heaven has added to my prayer, 
 
 A softer climate and a purer air. 
 
 Our frozen isle now chilling winter binds, 
 Deform'd by rains, and rough with blasting winds ; 
 The wither'd woods grow white with hoary frost, 
 By driving storms their verdant beauty lost ; 
 The trembling birds their leafless covert shun. 
 And seek in distant climes a warmer sun : 
 The water-nymphs their silent urns deplore, 
 Ev'n Thames, benumb'd, 's a river now no more : 
 The barren meads no longer yield delight. 
 By glist'ning snows made painful to the sight. 
 
 Here summer reigns with one eternal smile, 
 Succeeding harvests bless the happy soil; 
 Fair fertile fields, to whom indulgent Heaven 
 Has ev'ry charm of ev'ry season given. 
 No killing cold deforms the beauteous year. 
 The springing flowers no coming winter fear. 
 But as the parent rose decays and dies. 
 The infant buds with brighter colours rise. 
 And with fresh sweets the mother's scent supplies. 
 
 Near them the violet grows with odours blest. 
 And blooms in more than Tyrian purple drest ; 
 
 ' These verses Lady Mary tells us were sent from Constantinople to her uncle 
 Fielding, and " by his (well intended) indiscretion shown about, copies taken, and 
 at length miserably printed." The date, " 1718," is clearly a mistake; for Lady 
 Mary had returned to England before December of that year. It must have been 
 1717. The poem &8t appeared in Anthony Hammond's Miscellany, published in 
 May, 1720.— T. 
 
 VOL. II. 2 G 
 
450 POEMS. 
 
 The rich jonquils their golden beams display, 
 And shine in glory's emulating day ; 
 The peaceful groTes their yerdant leaves retain, 
 The streams still murmur undefil'd with rain. 
 And tow'ring greens adorn the fruitful plain. 
 The warbling kind uninterrupted sing, 
 Warmed with enjoyments of perpetual spring. 
 
 Here, at my window, I at once survey 
 The crowded city and resounding sea ; 
 In distant views the Asian mountains rise, 
 And lose their snowy summits in the skies ; 
 Above these mountains proud Olympus tow'rs, 
 The parliamental seat of heavenly pow'rs 1 
 New to the sight my ravish'd eyes admire 
 Each gilded crescent and each antique spire, 
 The marble mosques, beneath whose ample domes 
 Pierce warlike sultans sleep in peaceful tombs ; 
 Those lofty structures, once the Christian's boast, 
 Their names, their beauty, and their honours lost ; 
 Those altars bright with gold and sculpture grac'd, 
 By barb'rous zeal of savage foes defac'd ; 
 Soph'a alone, her ancient name retains. 
 Though th' unbeliever now her shrine profanes ; 
 "Where holy saints have died in sacred cells, 
 "Where monarchs pray'd, the frantic dervise dwells. 
 How art thou fall'n, imperial city, low ! 
 "Where are thy hopes of Homan glory now ? 
 "Where are thy palaces by prelates rais'd ? 
 "Where Grecian artists all their skill display'd. 
 Before the happy sciences decay'd ; 
 So vast, that youthful kings might here reside. 
 So splendid, to content a patriarch's pride ; 
 Convents where emperors profess'd of old. 
 The labour'd pillars that, their triumphs told ; 
 "Vain monuments of them that once were great, 
 Sunk undistinguis'd by one common fate ; 
 One little spot the tenure small contains. 
 Of G-reek nobility the poor remains ; 
 "Where other Helens, with like powerful charms, 
 Had once engag'd the warring world in arms ; 
 
POEMS. 451 
 
 Those names which royal ancestors caa boast, 
 In mean mechanic arts obscurely lost ; 
 Those eyes a second Homer might inspire, 
 Fix'd at the loom, destroy their useless fire : 
 Griev'd at a view, which struck upon my mind 
 The short-liv'd vanity of humankind. 
 
 In gaudy objects I indulge my sight. 
 And turn where Eastern pomp gives gay delight ; 
 See the vast train in various habits drest, 
 By the bright scimitar and sable vest 
 The proud vizier distinguish'd o'er the rest ! 
 Six slaves in gay attire his bridle hold, 
 His bridle rich with gems, and stirrups gold ; 
 His snowy steed adorn'd with costly pride, 
 Whole troops of soldiers mounted by his side. 
 These top the plumy crest Arabian courtiers guide. 
 With artful duty all decline their eyes, 
 No bellowing shouts of noisy crowds arise ; 
 Silence, in solemn state, the march attends. 
 Till at the dread divan the slow procession ends. 
 
 Tet not these prospects all profusely gay. 
 The gilded navy that adorns the sea. 
 The rising city in confusion fair. 
 Magnificently form'd, irregular. 
 Where woods and palaces at once surprise, 
 Gardens on gardens, domes on domes arise. 
 And endless beauties tire the wand'ring eyes. 
 So soothe my wishes, or so charm my mind. 
 As this retreat secure from humankind. 
 No knave's successful craft does spleen excite, 
 No coxcomb's tawdry splendour shocks my sight. 
 No mob-alarm awakes my female fear. 
 No praise my mind, nor envy hurts my ear, 
 Ev'n fame itself can hardly reach me here ; 
 Impertinence, with all her tattling train, 
 Fair-sounding flattery's delicious bane ; 
 Censorious folly, noisy party rage, 
 The thousand tongues with which she must engage 
 Who dares have virtue in a vicious age. 
 
 2g2 
 
4:52 POEMS. 
 
 EPILOGUE TO MAET QUEEN OF SCOTS.' ' 
 
 Designed to be spoken by Mrs. Oldfield. 
 
 "What could luxurious woman wish for more, 
 To fix her joys, or to extend her pow'r ? 
 Their every wish was in this Mary seen, 
 Gay, witty, youthful, beauteous, and a queen. 
 Vain useless blessings with ill-conduct join'd ! 
 Light as the air, and fleeting as the wind. 
 Whatever poets write, and lovers vow, 
 Beauty, what poor omnipotence hast thou ! 
 
 Queen Bess had wisdom, council, power, and laws ; 
 How few espous'd a wretched beauty's cause! 
 Learn thence, ye fair, more solid charms to prize ; 
 Contemn the idle flatt'rers of your eyes. 
 The brightest object shines but while 'tis new : 
 That influence lessens by familiar view. 
 Monarchs and beauties rule with equal sway. 
 All strive to serve, and glory to obey ; 
 Alike unpitied when depos'd they grow — 
 Men mock the idle of their former vow. 
 
 Two great examples have been shown to-day, 
 To what sure ruin passion does betray ; 
 What long repentance to short joys is due ; 
 When reason rules, what glory must ensue. 
 
 If you will love, love like Eliza then ; 
 Love for amusement, like those traitors, men. 
 , Think that the pastime of a leisure hour 
 
 She favour'd oft — but never shar'd her pow'r. 
 
 The traveller by desert wolves pursu'd. 
 If by his heart the savage foe's subdu'd. 
 The world will still the noble act applaud. 
 Though victory was gain'd by needful fraud. 
 
 Such is, my tender sex, our helpless case ; 
 
 1 This epilogue was intended for a play on the story of Mary Queen of Scots, 
 which Philip Duie of Wharton began to write, but never finished. No part of the 
 play now remains but these fonr lines : 
 
 " Sure were I free, and Norfolk were a prisoner, 
 I'd fly with more impatience to his arms, 
 Than the poor Israelite gaz'd on the serpent, 
 When life was the reward of every look." 
 
 Walpok^s Catalogue^ vol. ii. 1JJ4. — D. 
 
POEMS. 453 
 
 And sucli the barbarous heart, hid by the begging face ; 
 
 By passion fir'd, and not withheld by shame, 
 
 They cruel hunters are, we trembling game. 
 
 Trust me, dear ladies (for I know 'em well), 
 
 They burn to triumph, and they sigh to tell : 
 
 Cruel to them that yield, cullies to them that sell. 
 
 Believe me, 'tis by far the wiser course, 
 
 Superior art should meet superior force : 
 
 Hear, but be faithful to your int'rest still : 
 
 Secure your hearts — then fool with whom you will. 
 
 EPILOGUE TO THE TEAOEDY OF CATO.' 
 
 You see in ancient Rome what folly reign'd ; 
 A folly British men would have disdain'd. 
 Here's none so weak to pity Cato's case, 
 "Who might have liv'd, and had a handsome place ; 
 But rashly vain, and insolently great. 
 He perish'd by his fault — and not his fate. 
 Thank Heav'n ! our patriots better ends pursue, 
 With something more than glory in their view. 
 Poets write morals-^priests for martyrs preach — 
 Neither such fools to practise what they teach. 
 
 Though your dear country much you wish to serve. 
 For bonny Britons 'tis too hard to starve ; 
 Or what's all one, to any generous mind. 
 From girls, champagne, and gaming, be contin'd ; 
 Fortius might well obey his sire's command, 
 Eeturning to his small paternal land ; 
 A low estate was ample to support 
 His private life, far distant from the court ! 
 Far from the crowd of emulating beaux, 
 Where Martia never wanted birthday clothes. 
 
 For you, who live in these more polish'd days, 
 
 To spend your money, lo ! ten thousand ways ; 
 
 Dice may run ill, or duns demand their due, 
 
 And ways to get (God knows) are very few ; 
 
 In times so differing, who shall harshly blame 
 
 Our modern heroes, not to act the same ? 
 
 • The reader need hardly be informed that this was not the epilogue which 
 spoken on the performance of Cato. — T. 
 
454 FOEMS. 
 
 TO A PEIEND ON HIS TEAVELS. 
 Teom this vile towii, immers'd in smoke and care, 
 To you wbo brighten in a purer air, 
 Tour faithful friend conveys lier tenderest ttouglit 
 (Thougli now perhaps neglected and forgot). 
 May blooming health your wonted mirth restore, 
 And every pleasure crown your every hour ; 
 Caress'd, esteem'd, and lov'd, your merit known, 
 And foreign lands admire you, like your own : 
 Whilst I in silence various fortunes bear. 
 Distracted with the rage of bosom-war : 
 My restless fever tears my changeful brain, 
 "With mix'd ideas of delight and pain ; 
 Sometimes soft views my morniug dreams employ 
 In the faint dawn of visionary joy ; 
 Which rigid reason quickly drives away — 
 I seek the shade and fly from rising day : 
 In pleasing madness meet some moment's ease, 
 And fondly cherish my belov'd disease. 
 
 If female weakness melt my woman's mind, 
 At least no weakness in the choice I find. 
 Not sooth'd to softness by a warbling flute, 
 Nor the bought merit of a birthday suit ; 
 Not lost my heart by the surprising skill 
 In opera tunes, in dancing, or quadrille. 
 The only charm my inclination moves 
 Is such a virtue. Heaven itself approves ! 
 A soul superior to each vulgar view, 
 Great, steady, gentle, generous, and true. 
 How I regret my trifling hours past, 
 And look with sorrow o'er the dreary waste ! 
 In false pursuits aud vanity bestow'd. 
 The perfect image of a dirty road ; 
 Through puddles oft, o'er craggy rocks I stray, 
 A tiresome dull uncomfortable way : 
 And after toiling long through thick and thin 
 To reach some meanly mercenary inn. 
 The bills are high, aud very bad the fare, 
 I curse the wretched entertainment there : 
 And, jogging on, resolve to stop no more 
 Where gaudy signs invite me to the door. 
 
POEMS. 455 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 Tnores old in ill, the traitor sure should fidd 
 Some secret sting transfix his guilty mind. 
 Though bribes or favour may protect hia fame, 
 Or fear restrain invectives on hia name ; 
 None 'quits himself — his own impartial thought 
 Condemns — and conscience shall record the fault. 
 Tet more, my friend ! your happy state may bear 
 This disappointment, as below your care. 
 Por what you have, return to Heav'n your thanks ; 
 Pew share the prizes, many draw the blanks. 
 Of breach of promise loudly you complaiu, 
 Have you then known the world so long in vain ? 
 Worse than the iron age, our impious times 
 Have learn'd to laugh at most flagitious crimes. 
 Are you to know that 'tis a jest to find 
 Unthinking honesty pervade the mind ? 
 At beat, they say, the man is strangely odd 
 "Who keeps his oath, and can believe a God. 
 This was the cant when Edward held the throne. 
 Before Spinosa wrote, or Hobbes was known ; 
 "When the gilt Bible was the king's delight, 
 "When prayer preceded day, and hymns the night. 
 Now softening eunuchs sing Italian airs. 
 The dancing dame to midnight ball repairs. 
 Now, if an honest man (like you) I view. 
 Contemning interest, and to virtue true, 
 I deem, he deviates from Nature's rules, 
 Like burning hills, or petrifying pools. 
 I stand astonish'd at the strange portent. 
 And think some revolution the event ; 
 As all grave heads were startled, as they heard 
 That a new comet in the west appear' d ; 
 When from a human mother-"^ rabbits sprung. 
 And Ward his pills like hand-granadoes flung ; 
 When gratis scattering cures amidst the crowd- — 
 A miracle ! as Charteris^ swears aloud — 
 
 ■ Mary Tofts, the celebrated rabbit-woman of Godalmin. — D. 
 2 Ward, the celebrated quack doctor, announced that he would administer hia 
 pill and drop gratis to indigent persons. — T. 
 
 ' Colonel Charteris, of infamous memory, satirised by Pope and Arbuthnot. — D. 
 
456 POEMS. 
 
 A greater miracle I daily see, 
 
 The ancient faith of Pius reign in thee. 
 
 Observe the wretch, who has that faith forsook, 
 How clear his voice, and how assur'd his look ! 
 Like innocence, and as serenely bold. 
 Conscious protection of almighty gold ! 
 While thus he reasons to relieve his fears : 
 " Oft I've deceiv'd, yet still have kept my ears. 
 I have been threat'ned for a broken vow. 
 And yet successively have laugh'd till now. 
 And will laugh on, my fortune's not the worse, 
 "When starving cullies rail, or vainly curse." 
 Shall then the villain 'scape ? such knaves as he 
 Be rich and safe, and from all vengeance free ? 
 Consider, friend, but coolly, and you'll find 
 Eevenge the frailty of a feeble mind ; 
 Nor think he 'scapes though he should never feel 
 The pangs of poison, or the force of steel. 
 There is a time when conscience shakes the soul, 
 When Toland's tenets cannot fear control. 
 When secret anguish fills the anxious breast, 
 "Vacant from business, nor compos'd by rest ; 
 Then dreams invade, the injured gods appear 
 AH arm'd with thunder, and awake his fear ; 
 The wretch will start at every flash that flies. 
 Grow pale at the first murmur of the skies ; 
 Then, if a fever fires corrupted blood, 
 111 every fit he feels the hand of God. 
 Trembling, and sunk into the last despair. 
 He dares not ofier one repenting prayer ; 
 For how can hope with desperate guilt agree ? 
 And the worst beast is worthier life than he ; 
 This, at the best, wiU be his certain fate. 
 Or Heav'n may sooner think his crimes complete. 
 
 FEAGMENT TO 
 
 Let mules and asses in that circle tread, 
 And proud of trappings toss a feather'd head ; 
 
POEMS. 457 
 
 Leave you the stupid business of the state, 
 Strive to be happy, and despise the great : 
 Come where the Graces guide the gentle day, 
 "Where Venus rules amidst her native sea, 
 Where at her altar gallantries appear, 
 And eveu Wisdom dares not show severe. 
 
 TO ME. 
 
 Foe ever blest be that prolific brain 
 
 Which can such store of images contain ! 
 
 Thus the charg'd trees, with blooming odours crown'd, 
 
 Shed their fair blossoms with profusion round ; 
 
 So swells the brook with heav'n-descended rain, 
 
 An rl flows meand'ring on thirsty plain ; 
 
 Such various talents were by Heav'n design' d 
 
 (Too vast a treasure for a single mind). 
 
 To please, astonish, and instruct mankind. 
 
 With a delight not to be told, I view 
 
 Themes long exhausted in your hands grow new ; 
 
 Past all describing your descriptions are. 
 
 So full, so just, so bold, yet regular ; 
 
 The style so varied that it wants a name, 
 
 Which, ever differiug, ever is the same ; 
 
 Ton raise or calm our passions as you please. 
 
 The human heart your powerful pen obeys. 
 
 When eager Trasimond pursues the course. 
 
 We hear the whip, and see the foaming horse ; 
 
 With Sophronia we have wept and smU'd, 
 
 So soon offended — sooner reconcil'd. 
 
 Go on, great author ! that the world may see 
 How bright, when from pedantic fetters free, 
 True genius shines, and shines alone in thee. 
 Give new editions, with a noble scorn 
 Of insect critics, who'd obscure thy morn ; 
 Neglect their censures, nor thy work delay, 
 The owls still sicken at the sight of day. 
 
458 POEMS. 
 
 JOHN DUKE OP MAELBOEOUGH. 
 
 When the proud Prenchman's strong rapacious hand 
 
 Spread over Europe ruin and command, 
 
 Our sinking temples and expiring law 
 
 "With trembling dread the rolling tempest saw ; 
 
 Destin'd a province to insulting Gaul, 
 
 This genius rose, and stopp'd the ponderous fall. 
 
 His temperate valour form'd no giddy scheme, 
 
 No victory rais'd him to a rage of fame ; 
 
 The happy temper of his even mind 
 
 No danger e'er could shock, or conquest blind. 
 
 Pashion'd alike by Nature and by Art, 
 
 To please, engage, and int'rest ev'ry heart. 
 
 In public life by all who saw approv'd, 
 
 In private hours by all who knew him lov'd. 
 
 A CHAEACTBE. 
 
 Though a strong vanity may you persuade — 
 
 Tou are not for a politician made ; 
 
 Your tropes are drawn from Eobin Walpole's head. 
 
 Tour sense is but repeating what he said ; 
 
 A useful puppy, eminently known, 
 
 As proud to father what he will not own. 
 
 Some arguments he leaves you to expose. 
 
 Some valets flutter in my lord's old clothes. 
 
 But should he strip you of his borrow'd sense, 
 
 How poorly thin your boasted eloquence ! 
 
 Know your own talents better, I advise ; 
 
 Be brisk, yet dull, but aim not to look wise ; 
 
 In low insipid rhymes place your delight ; 
 
 Laugh without jests, and without reading write. 
 
 Despis'd by men, in ladies' ruelles sit, 
 
 Where country coquettes bolster up your wit. 
 
 May all your minuets applauses meet ! 
 
 An able coxcomb only in your feet. 
 
 By fawning lies, in leagues with courb-knaves grow. 
 
 And smile on beauties whom you do not know. 
 
POEMS. 459 
 
 Then, acting, all tlie coyness of a lover. 
 Tour no-intrigue endeavour to discover. 
 Aiming at wit, in many an evil liour. 
 Have the perpetual will without the power. 
 Conceit for Ireeding, rude for easy take, 
 Horseplay for wit, and noise for mirth mistake. 
 Love's perfect joys to perfect men helong; 
 Seek you but the occasion for a song. 
 Thus to the end of life may you remain 
 A merry blockhead, treacherous and vain. 
 
 AN ANSWEE TO A LOVE-LETTEE, IN VEESE. 
 
 Is it to me this sad lamenting strain ? 
 Are Heaven's choicest gifts bestow'd in vain ? 
 A plenteous fortune and a beauteous bride. 
 Tour love rewarded, and content your pride ; 
 Tet, leaving her, 'tis me that you pursue, 
 Without one single charm — ^but being new. 
 How vile is man ! how I detest the ways 
 Of covert falsehood and designing praise ! 
 As tasteless, easier happiness you slight, 
 Euin your joy, and mischief your delight. 
 Why should poor pug (the mimic of your kind) 
 Wear a rough chain, and be to box coniin'd ? 
 Some cup, perhaps, he breaks, or tears a fan. 
 While moves, unpunish'd the destroyer man; 
 Not bound by vows, and unrestrain'd by shame, 
 In sport you break the heart, and rend the fame. 
 Not that your art can be successful here, . 
 Th' already plunder' d need no robber fear. 
 Nor sighs nor charms, nor flattery, can move, 
 Too well secur'd against a second love. 
 Once, and but once, that devil charm'd my mind. 
 To reason deaf, to observation blind, 
 I idly hop'd (what cannot Love persuade !) 
 My fondness equall'd and my truth repaid : 
 Slow to distrust, and willing to believe ; 
 Long hush'd my doubts, I would myself deceive. 
 
460 POEMS. 
 
 But oh ! too soon — this tale would ever last — 
 Sleep on mj wrongs, and let me think them past. 
 Eor you, who mourn with counterfeited grief, 
 And ask so boldly, like a begging thief. 
 May soon some other nymph inflict the pain 
 Tou know 80 well with cruel art to feign. 
 Though long you've sported with Dan Cupid's dart, 
 Tou may see eyes, and you may feel a heart. 
 So the brisk wits who stop the evening coach, 
 Laugh at the fear that follows their approach ; 
 With idle mirth and haughty scorn despise 
 The passenger's pale cheek, and staring eyes ; 
 But seiz'd by justice, find a fright no jest, 
 And all the terror doubled in their breast. 
 
 LOED HEEVET TO ME. EOX. 
 
 Written at Florence, 1729, in imitation of the Sixth Ode of the Second Book 
 of Horace. 
 
 " Septimi Gades aditure mecum." 
 
 Thou dearest youth, who taught me first to know 
 
 "What pleasures from a real friendship flow ; 
 
 Where neither int'rest nor deceit have part. 
 
 But all the warmth is native of the heart ; 
 
 Thou know'st to comfort, soothe, or entertain, 
 
 Joy of my health, and cordial to my pain. 
 
 When life seem'd failing in her latest stage. 
 
 And fell disease anticipated age ; 
 
 When wasting sickness, and afilictive pain. 
 
 By jSlsculapius' sons oppos'd in vain, 
 
 Porc'd me reluctant, desperate to explore 
 
 A warmer sun, and seek a milder shore, 
 
 Thy steady love, with unexampled truth, 
 
 Eorsook each gay companion of thy youth, 
 
 Whate'er the prosperous or the great employs. 
 
 Business and interest, and love's softer joys, 
 
 The weary steps of misery to attend. 
 
 To share distress, and make a wretch thy friend. 
 
 If o'er the mountain's snowy top we stray, 
 
 Where Carthage first esplor'd the vent'rous way ; 
 
 Or through the tainted air of Eome's parched plains, 
 
 Where want resides and superstition reigns ; 
 
POEMS. 461 
 
 Cheerful and unrepining still you bear 
 
 Each dangerous rigour of the varying year ; 
 
 And kindly anxious for thy friend alone, 
 
 Lament his sufferings, and forget thy own. 
 
 Oh ! would kind Heaven, those tedious sufferings past. 
 
 Permit me, Ickworth,! rest and health at last ! 
 
 In that lov'd shade, my youth's delightful seat. 
 
 My early pleasure, and my late retreat, 
 
 Where lavish Nature's favourite blessings flow, 
 
 And all the seasons all their sweets bestow ; 
 
 There might I trifle carelessly away 
 
 The milder ev'ning of life's clouded day ; 
 
 Prom business and the world's intrusion free, 
 
 With books, with love, with beauty, and with thee ; 
 
 No further want, no wish, yet unpossess'd. 
 
 Could e'er disturb this unambitious breast. 
 
 Let those who Fortune's shining gifts implore. 
 
 Who sue for glory, splendour, wealth, or power. 
 
 View this inactive state with feverish eyes, 
 
 And pleasure they can never taste, despise ; 
 
 Let them still court that goddess' falser joys, 
 
 Who, while she grants their pray'r, their peace destroys. 
 
 I envy not the foremost of the great, 
 
 Not Walpole's self, directing Europe's fate ; 
 
 Still let him load ambition's thorny shrine, 
 
 Eame be his portion, and contentment mine. 
 
 But if the gods, sinister still, deny 
 
 To live in Ickworth, let me there but die; 
 
 Thy hands to close my eyes in Death's long night, 
 
 Thy image to attract their latest sight : 
 
 Then to the grave attend thy Poet's hearse. 
 
 And love his memory as you lov'd his verse. 
 
 CONTINUATION 
 
 BT lADT M. Vr. MONTAGU. 
 
 So sung the poet in a humble strain, 
 With empty pockets, and a head in pain. 
 Where the soft clime inclin'd the soul to rest, 
 And jjast'ral images inspir'd the breast. 
 
 ' In Suffolk, the seat of the Earl of Bristol.— D. 
 
462 POEMS. 
 
 Apollo listen'd from bis heavenly bower, 
 And, in his health restor'd, express'd his power. 
 Pygmalion thus before the Paphian shrine, 
 "With trembling vows address'd the power divine ; 
 Durst h&tdly^make his hopeless wishes known, 
 And scarce a greater miracle was shown — 
 Eetuming vigour glow'd in every vein, 
 And gay ideas fiutter'd in the brain ; 
 Back he returns to breathe his native air. 
 And all his first resolves are melted there ! 
 
 AN EPISTLE 
 
 TO THE EAEL Or BrBLINGTOK.' 
 
 How happy you ! who varied joys pursue ; 
 And every hour presents you something new ! 
 Plans, schemes, and models, all Palladio's art. 
 For six long months have gain'd upon your heart ; 
 Of colonnades, of corridors you talk. 
 The winding staircase and the cover'd walk ; 
 You blend the orders with Vitruvian toil, 
 And raise with wond'rous joy the fancy'd pile : 
 But the dull workman's slow-performing hand 
 But coldly executes his lord's command. 
 With dirt and mortar soon you grow displeas'd, 
 Planting succeeds, and avenues are rais'd, 
 Canals are cut, and mountains level made, 
 Bow'rs of retreat, and galleries of shade ; . 
 The shaven turf presents a lively green ; 
 The bordering flowers in mystic knots are seen : 
 With studied art on nature you refine — 
 The spring beheld you warm in this design. 
 But scarce the cold attacks your fav'rite trees, 
 Tour inclination fails, and wishes freeze : 
 
 1 Richard Boyle, third Earl of Burlington, the friend and correspondent of Pope. 
 This poem has been printed as addressed to Lord Bathurst, and Lady Mary's 
 friend the Coimtess of Pomfret appears to have been of this opinion. The allu- 
 sions apply rather to Burlington " the architect" than to Bathurst, who, though 
 also a cultivator of " Palladio's Art," was more often designated as " the planter." 
 Every reader remembers Pope's celebrated Epistle to the Earl of Burlington, 
 written, as Pope tells us in a note, when the earl was " publishing the Designs of 
 Inigo Jones and the Antiquities of Eome by Palladio." — T. 
 
POEMS. 463 
 
 Tou quit tlie grove so lately you admir'd ; 
 
 With other views your eager hopes are flr'd ; 
 
 Post to the city you direct your way ; 
 
 Not blooming paradiae could bribe your stay : 
 
 Ambition shows you power's brightest side, 
 
 'Tis meanly poor in solitude to hide : 
 
 Though certain pains attend the cares of state, 
 
 A good man owes his country to be great ; 
 
 Should act abroad the high distinguish'd part, 
 
 Or show at least the purpose of his heart. 
 
 With thoughts like these the shining courts you seek, 
 
 Full of new projects for almost a week ; 
 
 Tou then despise the tinsel-glittering snare, 
 
 Think vile mankind below a serious care. 
 
 Life is too short for any distant aim ; 
 
 And cold the dull reward of future fame : 
 
 Be happy then, while yet you have to live ; 
 
 And love is all the blessing Heav'n can give. 
 
 Fir'd by new passion you address the fair, 
 
 Survey the opera as a gay parterre ; 
 
 Toung Chloe's bloom had made you certain prize, 
 
 But for a sidelong glance from Celia'a eyes : 
 
 Tour beating heart acknowledges her power ; 
 
 Tour eager eyes her lovely form devour ; 
 
 Tou feel the poison swelling in your breast. 
 
 And all your soul by fond desire possess'd. 
 
 In dying sighs a long three hours are past ; 
 
 To some assembly with impatient haste, 
 
 With trembling hope, and doubtful fear, you move, 
 
 Eesolv'd to tempt your fate, and own your love : 
 
 But there Belinda meets you on the stairs. 
 
 Easy her shape, attracting all her airs ; 
 
 A smile she gives, and with a smile can wound ; 
 
 Her melting voice hath music in the sound ; 
 
 Her every motion wears resistless grace ; 
 
 Wit in her mien, and pleasure in her face : 
 
 Here while you vow eternity of love, 
 
 Chloe and Celia unregarded move. 
 
 Thus on the sands of Afric's burning plains. 
 
 However deeply made, no long impress remains ; 
 
464 POEMS. 
 
 The slightest leaf can leave its figure there ; 
 The strongest form is scatter'd by the air. 
 So yielding the warm temper of your mind, 
 So touch'd by every eye, so toss'd by wind ; 
 Oh ! how unlike the Heav'n my soul design'd ! 
 Unseen, unheard, the throng around me move ; 
 Not wishing praise, insensible of love ; 
 No whispers soften, nor no beauties fire ; 
 Careless I see the dance, and coldly hear the lyre. 
 
 So num'rous herds are driv'n o'er the rocli ; 
 No print is left of all the passing flock : 
 So sings the wind around the solid stone ; 
 So vainly beat the waves with fruitless moan. 
 Tedious the toil, and great the workman's care, 
 Who dares attempt to fix impressions there: 
 But should some swain, more skilful than the rest. 
 Engrave his name upon this marble breast. 
 Not rolling ages could deface that name ; 
 Through all the storms of life 'tis still the same : 
 Though length of years with moss may shade the ground. 
 Deep, though unseen, remains the secret wound. 
 
 VEESES' 
 
 ADDEIiSSED TO THE IMITATOE OF THE FIEST SATIBE OF THE SECOND 
 BOOK OF HOEACE. 
 
 In two large columns on thy motley page. 
 Where Eoman wit is strip'd with English rage ; 
 
 ' These verses, although contained in the collection of poems verified by Lady 
 Mary's own hand as written by her, have always been considered the joint compo- 
 sition of Lord Hervey and Lady Mary, and to have been occasioned by some lines, 
 which they supposed to refer to them, in Pope's Imitation of the First Satire of the 
 Second Book of Horace. In the Introductory Anecdotes in vol. i. it is stated 
 that they " will not be reprinted in this edition j" but, upon further consideration, 
 the Editor has thought it right to leave them. They have been printed in all the 
 former editions, and he therefore does not think himself warranted in not inserting 
 them in this, however he may disapprove of some parts of them. With regard to 
 those parts, it appears to be only fair to Lady Mary's memory, to remind the 
 reader that the lines in Pope's poem, which she conceived to apply to her, are 
 most gross and unjustifiable; and when the satirist indulges in such attacks, it 
 may be very unwise, but is certainly quite natural, that his victims should retort 
 upon him, in the way they think likely to wound him most severely, if they are 
 capable of doing so with effect ; and the reader of these verses will probably be of 
 opinion that the writer or writers of them were not without that power. — W. 
 
POEMS. 465 
 
 Where ribaldry to satire makea pretence, 
 And modern scandal rolls with ancient sense : 
 Whilst on one side we see how Horace thought, 
 And on the other how he never wrote ; 
 Who can believe, who view the bad, the good, 
 That the dull copyist better understood 
 That spirit he pretends to imitate, 
 Than heretofore that Greek he did translate ? 
 
 Thine is just such an image of his pen, 
 As thou thyself art of the sons of men. 
 Where our own species in burlesque we trace, 
 A sign-post likeness of the human race, 
 That is at once resemblance and disgrace. 
 
 Horace can laugh, is delicate, is clear, 
 Tou only coarsely rail, or darkly sneer ; 
 His style is elegant, his diction pure. 
 Whilst none thy crabbed numbers can endure ; 
 Hard as thy heart, and as thy birth obscure. i 
 
 If he has thorns, they all on roses grow ; 
 Thine like thistles, and mean brambles show ; 
 With this exception, that, though rank the soil, 
 Weeds as they are, they seem produc'd by toil. 
 
 Satire should, like a polish'd razor, keen. 
 Wound with a touch, that's scarcely felt or seen : 
 Thine is an oyster-knife, that hacks and hews ; 
 The rage, but not the talent to abuse ; 
 And is in hate, what love is in the stews. 
 'Tis the gross lust of hate, that still annoys. 
 Without distinction, as gross love enjoys : 
 Neither to folly, nor to vice confin'd. 
 The object of thy spleen is humankind: 
 It preys on all who yield, or who resist : 
 To thee 'tis provocation to exist, 
 
 ^ This line ought never to have had a place in a poem written by Lord Hervey 
 and Lady Mary Wortley. They ought to have disdained to taunt Pope upon his 
 origin. This taunt and that upon his figure, a few lines before, are certainly un- 
 worthy of them. These reflections, however, seem to have been most keenly felt 
 by Pope ; and in the letter to Arbuthnot, which is called the Prologue to the 
 Imitations of Horace, he is at considerable pains to refute that respecting his birth, 
 which makes it probable that that letter was written, in fact, after the Imitations 
 of Horace. — W. 
 
 VOL. II. 2 H 
 
466 POEMS. 
 
 But if thou seest' a great and generous heart, 
 Thy bow is doubly bent to force a dart. 
 Nor dignity nor innocence is spar'd, 
 Nor age, nor sex, nor thrones, nor graves, rever'd. 
 Nor only justice vainly we demand, 
 But even benefits can't rein thy hand ; 
 To this or that alike in vain we trust. 
 Nor find thee less ungrateful than unjust. 
 Not even youth and beauty can control 
 The universal rancour of thy soul ; 
 Charms that might soften superstition's rage. 
 Might humble pride, or thaw the ice ot age. 
 But how should'st thou by beauty's force be mov'd. 
 No more for loving made than to be lov'd ? 
 It was the equity of righteous Heav'n, 
 That such a soul to such a form was giv'n ; 
 And shows the uniformity of fate, 
 That one so odious should be born to hate. 
 
 When God created thee, one would believe 
 He said the same as to the snake of Eve ; 
 To human race antipathy declare, 
 'Twixt them and thee be everlasting war. 
 But oh ! the sequel of the sentence dread. 
 And whilst you bruise their heel, beware your head. 
 Nor think thy weakness shall be thy defence, 
 The female scold's protection in qfience. 
 Sure 'tis as fair to beat who cannot fight, 
 As 'tis to libel those who cannot write. 
 And if thou draw'st thy pen to aid the law. 
 Others a cudgel, or a rod, may draw. 
 If none with vengeance yet thy crimes pursue. 
 Or give thy manifold affronts their due ; 
 If limbs unbroken, skin without a stain, 
 Unwhipt, unblanketed, unkick'd, unslain, 
 That wretched little carcase you retain. 
 The reason is, not that the world wants eyes. 
 But thou'rt so mean, they see, and they despise : 
 When irtiixH. porcupine, with ranc'rous wUl, 
 IVom mounted back shoots forth ar harmless quill, 
 ' Taste, an Epistle, in which are the reflections upon the Duke of Chandoa.- 
 
POEMS. 467 
 
 Oool the spectators stand ; and all the while 
 Upon the angry little monster smile. 
 Thus 'tis with thee : — while impotentlj safe, 
 Ton strike unwounding, we unhurt can laugh. 
 WTio hut must laugh, this bully when he sees, 
 A puny insect shivering at a breeze ? 
 One over-match'd by every blast of wind, 
 Insulting and provoking all mankind. 
 
 Is this the thing to keep mankind in awe, 
 To make those tremble who escape the law f 
 Is this the ridicule to live so long, 
 The deathless satire and immortal song ? 
 No : like the self-blown praise, thy scandal flies ; 
 And, as we're told of wasps, it stings and dies. 
 
 If none do yet return th' intended blow, 
 Tou all your safety to your dulness owe : 
 But whilst that armour thy poor corse defends, 
 'Twill make thy readers few, as are thy friends : 
 Those, who thy nature loath'd, yet lov'd thy art, 
 Who lik'd thy head, and yet abhorr'd thy heart : 
 Chose thee to read, but never to converse. 
 And scorn' d in prose him whom they priz'd in verse 
 Ev'n they shall now their partial error see. 
 Shall shun thy writings like thy company ; 
 And to thy books shall ope their eyes no more 
 Than to thy person they would do their door. 
 
 Nor thou the justice of the world disown, 
 That leaves thee thus an outcast and alone ; 
 For though in law to murder be to kill, 
 In equity the murder's in the wOl : 
 Then whilst with coward-hand you stab a name, 
 And try at least t' assassinate our fame, 
 Like the first bold assassin's be thy lot, 
 Ne'er be thy guilt forgiven, or forgot ; 
 But, as thou hat'st, be hated by mankind, 
 And with the emblem of thy crooked mind 
 Mark'd on thy back, like Cain by Q-od's ovm hand, 
 Wander, like him, accursed through the land. 
 
 2 h2 
 
4G8 POEMS. 
 
 TJNPINISHED SKETCHES 
 
 OF A LAEGES POEM. 
 
 Now, with fresh vigour, morn her light displays, 
 And the glad birds salute her kindling rays ; 
 The opening buds confess the sun's return, 
 And rous'd from night all nature seems new-born ; 
 When ponderous Dulness slowly wing'd her way, 
 And with thick fogs oppos'd the rising day. 
 Phoebus retir'd as from Thyestes' feast, 
 Droop'd all the flow'rs, th' aerial music ceas'd. 
 Pleas'd with her iniluence, she exults with pride, 
 " Shall mortals then escape my power ?" she cried : 
 " Nay, in this town where smoke and mists conspire 
 To cloud the head, and damp the poet's fire, 
 Shall Addison my empire here dispute. 
 So justly founded, lov'd, and absolute ? 
 Explode my children, ribaldry and rhyme, 
 -Rever'd from Chaucer's down to Dryden's time ? 
 Distinguish 'twixt false humour and the true, 
 And wit make lovely to the vulgar view ? 
 No — better things my destiny ordains. 
 For Oxford has the wand, and Anna reigns." 
 She ended, and assum'd Duke Disney's^ grin. 
 With broad plump face, pert eyes, and ruddy skin, 
 Which show'd the stupid joke which lurk'd within. 
 
 In this lov'd form she knock'd at St. John's^ gate. 
 Where crowds already for his levee wait ; 
 And wait they may, those wretches that appear 
 To talk of service past and long arrear : 
 But the proud partner of his pleasure goes 
 Through crowds of envious eyes and servile bows. 
 And now approaching where the statesman lay. 
 To his unwilling eyes reveal' d the day. 
 Starting, he wak'd, and, waking swore by God, 
 " This early visit, friend, is wondrous odd ! 
 Scarce have I rested two small hours in bed, 
 And fumes of wine oppress my aching head. 
 
 ^ Colonel Henry Disney, a friend of Pope, Swift, and Arbutlmot, among whom 
 " Duke Disney" appears to have been a friendly nickname. — T. 
 ' Lord Bolingbroke. — D. 
 
POEMS. 4f)9 
 
 By thee I'm sure my soul is understood 
 
 Too well to plague me for the public good. 
 
 Let stupid patriots toil to serve the brutes, 
 
 And waste the fleeting hours in vain disputes ; 
 
 The use of power supreme I better know, 
 
 Wor wOl I lose the joys the gods bestow ; 
 
 The sparkling glass, soft flute, and willing fair 
 
 Alternate guard me from the shocks of care. 
 
 'Tis the prerogative of wit like mine 
 
 To emulate in ease the pow'rs divine ; . ' 
 
 And while I revel, leave the busy fools 
 
 To plot like chemists, or to trudge like tools." 
 
 " Believe me, lord ! (replies his seeming friend) 
 Some difiiculties every state attend. 
 Cares must surround the meu that wealth possess, 
 And sorrow mingles ev'n with love's success. 
 Great as you are, no greatness long is sure, 
 Advancement is but pain if not secure. 
 All your long schemes may vanish in an hour. 
 Oh tremble at the sad reverse of pow'r ! 
 How will these slaves that waiting watch your eye 
 Insulting smile or pass regardless by ! 
 Nor is this thought the creature of my fears. 
 Approaching ruin now most strong appears. 
 Men must be dull who passively obey, 
 And ignorance fixes arbitrary sway ; 
 Think of this maxim, and no more permit 
 A dangerous writer to retail his wit.^ 
 The consequence of sense is liberty. 
 And if men think aright, they will be free ; 
 Encourage you the poet^ I shall bring, 
 Your Granville, he already tries to sing ; 
 Nor think, my lord, I only recommend 
 An able author, but a useful friend ; 
 In verse his phlegm, in puns he shows his fire. 
 And skill 'd in pimping to your heart's desire." 
 
 ' The Spectator was in course of publication at that time. This is an ollusion 
 to it.— W. 
 ' Pope.— D. 
 
470 POEMS. 
 
 " I thank thee, duke (replies the drowsy peer), 
 But cannot listen to thy childish fear. 
 This Addison, 'tis true, debauch'd in schools, 
 "Will sometimes oddly talk of musty rules. 
 Tet here and there I see a master line, 
 I feel an.d I confess the power divine. 
 In spite of interest charm'd into applause, 
 I wish for such a champion in our cause : 
 Nor shall your reasons force me to suhmit 
 To patronise a hard of meaner wit ; 
 Men can but say wit did my judgment blind, 
 And wit's the noblest frailty of the mind." 
 
 The disappointed goddess, swell'd with spite. 
 Dropping her borrow'd form, appears in open light. 
 So the sly nymph in masquerade disguise, 
 The faith of her suspected lover tries ; 
 But when the perjury too plain appears. 
 Her eyes are fiU'd with mingled rage and tears ; 
 No more remembers the affected tone. 
 Sinks the feign'd voice, and thunders in her own. 
 
 " How hast thou dar'd my party then to quit, 
 Or dost thou, wretch, presume thou art a wit ? 
 Head thy own works, consider well each line. 
 In each dull page, how palpably I shine ! 
 'Tis I that to tby eloquence aifords 
 Such empty thoughts wrapt iu superfluous words ; 
 To me alone your pamphlet-praise you owe, 
 'Tia I your tropes and florid sense bestow ; 
 After such wreaths bestow'd, such service done. 
 Dare you refuse protection to my son ? 
 The time shall come, though now at court ador'd, 
 "When still a writer, though no more a lord, 
 On common stalls thy darling works be spread, 
 And thou shalt answer them to make them read." 
 
 She said, and turning show'd her wrinkled neck, 
 In scales and colour like a roach's back. 
 
POEMS. 471 
 
 THE COTJET OF DULNE8S. 
 
 A PEAGMENT. 
 
 W W TT TP tP 
 
 ***** 
 
 Hee palace plac'd beneath a muddy road, 
 
 And such the influence of the dull abode. 
 
 The carrier's horse above can scarcely drag his load. 
 
 Here chose the goddess her belov'd retreat,' 
 
 "Which Phoebus tries in vain to penetrate ; 
 
 Adorn'd within, with sheila of small expense, 
 
 (Emblems of tinsel rhyme and trifling sense), 
 
 Perpetual fogs enclose the sacred cave, 
 
 The neighbouring sinks their fragrant odours gave ; 
 
 In contemplation here she pass'd her hours. 
 
 Closely attended by subservient powers : 
 
 Bold Profanation with a brazen brow, — 
 
 Much to this great ally does Dulness owe : 
 
 But stUl more near the goddess you attend^ 
 
 Naked Obscenity ! her darling friend. 
 
 To thee for shelter all the dull still fly. 
 
 Pert double meanings e'en at school we try. 
 
 "What numerous writers owe their praise to thee, 
 
 No sex — no age — is from thy influence free ; 
 
 By thee how bright appears the senseless song, 
 
 By thee the book is sold, the lines are strong. 
 
 The heaviest poet, by thy powerful aid, 
 
 "Warms the brisk youth and charms the sprightly maid ; 
 
 "Where breathes the mortal who's not prov'd thy force 
 
 In well-bred pun, or waiting-room discourse ? 
 
 Such were the chiefs who form'd her gloomy court, 
 Her pride, her ornament, and her support : 
 Behind attended such a numerous crowd 
 Of quibbles strain'd, old rhymes, and laughter loud. 
 Throngs that might even make a goddess proud. 
 Tet pensive thoughts lay brooding in her breast, 
 And fear, the mate of power, her mind oppress'd. 
 Oft she revolv'd — for oh, too well she knew 
 "What Merlin sung, and part long since prov'd true, 
 
 1 Alluding to Pope's grotto at Twickenham. — D. 
 
4"7.2 POEMS. 
 
 •" When Harry's brows the diadem adorn, 
 Prom Reformation Learning shall be born ; 
 Slowly in strength the infant shall improve, 
 The parent's glory and it's country's love : 
 Free from the thraldom of monastic rhymes, 
 In bright progression bless succeeding times ; 
 Milton free poesy from the monkish chain, 
 And Addison that Milton shall explain ; 
 Point out the beauties of each living page ; 
 Eeform the taste of a degen'rate age ; 
 Show that true wit disdains all little art, 
 And can at once engage and mend the heart ; 
 Knows even popular applause to gain, 
 Tet not malicious, wanton, or profane." 
 
 This prophecy perplex'd her anxious head; 
 And, yawning thrice, thus to her sons she said : 
 " When such an author honour'd shall appear, 
 'Tis plain, the hour of our destruction's near ! 
 And public rumour now aloud proclaims 
 At universal monarchy he aims. 
 What to this hero, whom shall we oppose ? 
 A strong confederacy of stupid foes — 
 Such brave allies as are by nature fit 
 To cbeck the progress of o'erflowing wit ; 
 Where envy and where impudence are join'd 
 To contradict the voice of humankind, 
 At Dacier's ignorance shall gravely smile. 
 And blame the coarseness of Spectator's style ; 
 Shall swear that Tickell understands not Q-reek, 
 That Addison can't write, nor Walpole speak." 
 
 Pir'd by this project Profanation rose — 
 " One leader, Goddess, let me here propose ; 
 In a near realm, which owns thy gentle sway. 
 My darling son now chants his pleasing lay. 
 Trampling on order, decency, and laws. 
 And vaunts himself the champion of my cause. 
 Him will I bring to teach the callow youth 
 To scorn dry morals — laugh at sacred truth. 
 All fears of future reckonings he shall quench. 
 And bid them bravely drink and freely wench. 
 
POEMS. 47S 
 
 By his example much, by precept more, 
 There learn 'tis wit to swear, and safe to wh — re. 
 # # ♦ * # 
 
 Mocks Newton's schemes, and Tillotson's discourse, 
 
 And imitates the virtues of a horse. 
 
 "With this design to add to his renown, 
 
 He wears the rev'rend dress of band and gown."' 
 
 The Q-oddess, pleas'd, bestow'd a gracious grin, 
 
 When thus does fair Obscenity begin : 
 
 "My humbler subjects are not plac'd so high. 
 
 They joke in kitchens, and in cellars ply ; 
 
 Tet one I have, bred in those worthy schools, 
 
 Admir'd by shoals of male and female fools ; 
 
 In ballads what I dictate he shall sing. 
 
 And troops of converts to my banners bring. 
 
 Bold in my cause, and most profanely dull, 
 
 With smooth unmeaning rhymes the town shall lull ; 
 
 Shall sing of worms in great Arbuthnot's strain,* 
 
 In lewd burlesque the sacred Psalms profane ; 
 
 To maids of honour songs obscene address,^ 
 
 Nor need we doubt his wonderful success. 
 
 Long have I watch'd this genius yet unknown, 
 
 Inspir'd his rhyme, and mark'd him for my own ; 
 
 His early youth in superstition bred, 
 
 And monkish legends all the books he read. 
 
 Tinctur'd by these, proceeds his love of rhyme, 
 
 Milton he scorns, but Crambo thinks divine. 
 
 And oh ! 'tis sure (our foes confess this truth) 
 
 The old Cambronians yield to this stupendous youth. 
 
 But present want obscures the poet's name. 
 
 Be it my charge to talk him into fame. 
 
 My Lansdowne (whose love-songs so smoothly run. 
 
 My darling author, and my fav'rite son) 
 
 He shall protect the man whom I inspire,* 
 
 And Windsor Forest openly admire ; 
 
 * Tlii3 character is drawn for Dr. Swift. — D. 
 
 ^ See verses to Mr. John Moore, author of the celebrated worm powder, ge- 
 nerally printed among Pope's works. — T. 
 
 ' This alludes to a burlesque of the first Psalm, and The Challenge, a Coiirt 
 Ballad, attributed by Curll and others to Pope..— T. 
 
 ' Mr. Pope.— D. 
 
474 POEMS. 
 
 3.nd Bolingbroke with flattery shall bribe, 
 'Till the charm'd lord most nobly shall subscribe ; 
 And hostile Addison too late shall find, 
 'Tis easier to corrupt than mend manHnd. 
 The town, which now revolts, once more obey, 
 And the whole island own my pristine sway !" 
 She said, and slowly leaves the realm of night, 
 "While the curs'd phantoms praise her droning flight. 
 
 AN EPISTLE EEOM POPE TO LOED BOLINGBEOKE. 
 
 CoiTFESS, dear Laelius l^ pious, just, and wise, 
 
 Some self-content does in that bosom rise, 
 
 When you reflect, as sure you sometimes must, 
 
 "What talents Heaven does to tby virtue trust, 
 
 "While with contempt you view poor humankind, 
 
 "Weak, wilful, sensual, passionate, and blind. 
 
 Amid these errors thou arb faultless found, 
 
 (The moon takes lustre from the darkness round) 
 
 Permit me too, a small attendant star. 
 
 To twinkle, though in a more distant sphere ; 
 
 Small things with great, we poets oft compare. 
 
 "With admiration all your steps I view, 
 
 And almost envy what I can't pursue. 
 
 The world must grant (and 'tis no common fame) 
 
 My courage and my probity the same. 
 
 But you, great Lord, to nobler scenes were born ; 
 
 Tour early youth did Anna's court adorn. 
 
 Let Oxford own, let Catalonia tell, 
 
 "What various victims to your wisdom fell ; 
 
 Let vows or benefits the vulgar bind. 
 
 Such ties can never chain th' intrepid mind. 
 
 Eecorded be that memorable hour, 
 
 "When, to elude exasperated pow'r, 
 
 "With blushless front you durst your friend betray, 
 
 Advise the whole confed'racy to stay, 
 
 "While with sly courage you run brisls: away. 
 
 By a deserted court with joy receiv'd, 
 
 Tour projects all admir'd, your oaths believ'd ; 
 
 ' Pope first addresaed his Eaaay on Man to Lord Bolingbroke as Laelius. — D. 
 
POEMS. 475 
 
 Some truBt obtain' d, of -which good use he made, 
 To gain a pardon where you first betray'd. 
 But what is pardon to th' aspiring breast ? 
 Tou should have been first minister at least : 
 Failing of that, forsaken and depress'd, 
 Sure any soul but yours had sought for rest ! 
 And moum'd in shades, far from the public eye, 
 Successless fraud, and useless infamy. 
 And here, my lord ! let all mankind admire 
 The efforts bold of unexhausted fire ; 
 Tou stand the champion of the people's cause, 
 And bid the mob reform defective laws. 
 Oh ! was your pow'r, like your intention good. 
 Tour native land would stream with civic blood. 
 I own these glorious schemes I view with pain ; 
 My little mischiefs to myself seem mean, 
 Such ills are humble though my heart is great, 
 All I can do is flatter, lie, and cheat ; 
 Tet I may say 'tis plain that you preside 
 O'er all my morals, and 'tis much my pride 
 To tread with steps unequal where you guide. 
 My first subscribers^ I have first defam'd, 
 And when detected, never was asham'd ; 
 Eais'd all the storms I could in private life, 
 Whisper'd the husband to reform the wife ; 
 Outwitted Lintot in his very trade,^ 
 And charity with obloquy repaid. 
 Tet while you preach in prose, I scold in rhymes. 
 Against th' injustice of flagitious times. 
 Tou, learned doctor of the public stage. 
 Give gUded poison to corrupt the age ; 
 Tour poor toad-eater I, around me scatter 
 My scurril jests, and gaping crowds bespatter. 
 This may seem envy to the formal fools 
 "Who talk of virtue's bounds and honour's rules ; 
 We, who with piercing eyes look nature through, 
 We know that all is right in all we do. 
 
 ' To the translation of Homer. — D. 
 
 ^ Lintot accused Pope of having behaved unfairly in their negotiations concern- 
 ing the puhlication of the Odyssey, and apparently with some show of reason, as 
 appears in his unpublished correspondence with Broome and Fenton. — T. 
 
ilQ POEMS, 
 
 Beason's erroneous — honest instinct right — 
 Monkeys were made to grin, and fleas to bite. 
 Using the spite by the Creator given, 
 We only tread the path that's mark'd by Heaven. 
 And sure vfith justice 'tis that we exclaim, 
 Such vprongs must e'en your modesty inflame ; 
 "While blockheads, court-rewards and honours share, 
 Tou, poet, patriot, and philosopher. 
 No bills in pocket, nor no garter wear. 
 
 When I see smoking on a booby's board 
 Fat ortolans and pye of Perigord, 
 Myself am mov'd to high poetic rage 
 (The Homer and the Horace of the age). 
 Puppies who have the insolence to dine 
 With smiling beauties, and with sparkling wine ; 
 While I retire, plagu'd with an empty purse, 
 Eat brocoli, and kiss my ancient nurse.^ 
 But had we flourish'd when stern Harry reign'd. 
 Our good designs had been but ill explain'd; 
 The axe had cut your solid reas'nings short, 
 I, in the porter's lodge, been scourg'd at court. 
 To better times kind Heav'n reserv'd our birth. 
 Happy for you such coxcombs are on earth ! 
 Mean spirits seek their villainy to hide j^ 
 We show our venom'd souls with nobler pride. 
 And in bold strokes have all mankind defy'd, 
 Pass'd o'er the bounds that keep mankind in awe, 
 And laugh'd at justice, liberty, and law. 
 While our admirers stare with dumb surprise, 
 Treason and scandal we monopolise. 
 Tet this remains our more peculiar boast, 
 Tou 'scape the block, and I the whipping-post. 
 
 ' To whom Pope erected a tomb, which he inscribed to her memory, in the 
 churchyard at Twickenham. — D. Her name was Mary Beach. She died Nov. 5, 
 1725.— T. 
 
 2 The whole of this passage alludes to the Second Satire of the Second Book of 
 Horace, in which Pope attacked Mr. Wortley Montagu and Lady Mary under the 
 name of Avidien and his wife. — T. 
 
POEMS. 477 
 
 LADT HEETPOED, 
 
 TO LOBD WILLIAM HAMILTON.' 
 
 Deab Colin, prevent my ■warm blushes, 
 
 Since how can I speak without pain ? 
 My eyes oft have told you my wishes, 
 
 Why don't you their meaning explain ? 
 
 My passion will lose by expression, 
 
 And you may too cruelly blame ; 
 Then do not expect a confession 
 
 Of what is too tender to name. 
 
 Since yours is the province of speaking, 
 
 How can you then hope it from me ? 
 Our wishes should be in our keeping, 
 
 'TUl yours tell us what they should be. 
 
 Alas ! then, why don't you discover ? 
 
 Did yout heart feel such torments as mine, 
 Eyes need not tell over and over, 
 
 "What I in my breast woiild confine. 
 
 ANSWEEED, EOE LOED WILLIAM HAMILTON, 
 
 BT LADT M. W. MOJTTA&IT. 
 
 Good Madam, when ladies are willing, 
 A man must needs look like a fool ; - : 
 
 Eor me, I would not give a shilling 
 For one who would love out of rule. 
 
 Tou should leave us to guess by your blushing. 
 
 And not speak the matter so plain ; 
 'Tis ours to write and be pushing, 
 
 'Tis yours to affect a disdain. 
 
 That you're in a terrible taking. 
 
 By all these sweet oglings I see ; 
 But the fruit that can fall without shaking. 
 
 Indeed is too mellow for me. 
 
 ' See letter to the Countess of Bute, ante, p. 345. — T. 
 
478 POEMS. 
 
 EPISTLE EEOM AETHUE GEEY, THE EOOTMAN, 
 
 TO ME8. MTTEEAT, 
 After hia condemnation for attempting to commit violence.^ 
 
 Eead, lovely nymph, and tremble not to read, 
 I have no more to wish, nor you to dread ; 
 I ask not life, for life to me were vain, 
 And death a refuge from severer pain. 
 My only hope in these last lines I try — 
 I would be pitied, and I then would die. 
 Long had I lived as sordid as my fate. 
 Nor curs' d the destiny that made me wait 
 A servile slave : content with homely food, 
 The gross instinct of happiness pursued : 
 Youth gave me sleep at night and warmth of blood. 
 Ambition yet had never touch'd my breast ; 
 My lordly master knew no sounder rest ; 
 "With labour healthy, in obedience blest. 
 But when I saw — oh ! had I never seen 
 That wounding softness, that engaging mien ! 
 The mist of wretched education fliea, 
 Shame, fear, desire, despair, and love arise. 
 The new creation of those beauteous eyes. 
 But yet that love pursu'd no guilty aim ; 
 Deep in my heart I hid the secret flame : 
 I never hop'd my fond desire to tell. 
 And all my wishes were to serve you well. 
 Heav'ns ! how I flew, when winged by your command. 
 And kiss'd the letters giv'n me by your hand. 
 How pleas' d, how proud, how fond was I to wait, 
 Present the sparkling wine, or change the plate i 
 How, when you sung, my soul devour'd the sound. 
 And ev'ry sense was in the rapture drown'd! 
 Though bid to go, I quite forgot to move ; 
 — Tou knew not that stupidity was love ! 
 But oh ! the torment not to be express'd, . 
 The grief, the rage, the hell, that fir'd this breast, 
 "When my great rivals, in embroid'ry gay, 
 Sate by your side, or led you from the play ! 
 » See note, vol. 1. p. 460.— T. 
 
POEMS. 479 
 
 I still contriv'd near as I could to stand 
 (The flambeau trembling in my shaking hand) ; 
 I saw, or thought I saw, those fingers press'd, 
 For thus their passion by my own I guess' d, 
 And jealous fury all my soul possess'd. 
 Like torrents, love and indignation meet, 
 And madness would have thrown me at your feet. 
 Turn, lovely nymph (for so I would have said), 
 Turn from those triflers who make love a trade ; 
 This is true passion in my eyes you see ; 
 They cannot, no — they cannot love like me ; 
 Frequent debauch has pall'd their sickly taste. 
 Faint their desire, and in a moment past ; 
 They sigh not from the heart, but from the brain ; 
 Vapours of vanity and strong champagne. 
 Too dull to feel what forms like yours inspire, 
 After long talking of their painted fire. 
 To some lewd brothel they at night retire ; 
 There, pleas'd with fancy'd quality and charms, 
 Enjoy your beauties iu a strumpet's arms. 
 Such are the joys those toasters have in view. 
 And such the wit and pleasure they pursue ; 
 — And is this love that ought to merit you ? 
 Each opera night a new address begun. 
 They swear to thousands what they swear to one. 
 Not thus I sigh — but all my sighs are vain — 
 Die, wretched Arthur, and conceal thy pain : 
 'Tis impudence to wish, and madness to complain. 
 Eii'd on this view, my only hope of ease, 
 I waited not the aid of slow disease ; 
 The keenest instruments of death I sought. 
 And death alone employ'd my lab'ring thought. 
 This all the night — when I remember well 
 The charming tinkle of your morning bell ! 
 Fir'd by the sound, I hasten'd with your tea. 
 With one last look to smooth the darksome way — 
 But oh ! how dear that fatal look has cost ! 
 In that fond moment my resolves were lost. 
 Hence all my guilt, and all your sorrows rise — 
 I saw the languid softness of your eyes ; 
 
480 POEMS. 
 
 I saw the dear disorder of your bed ; 
 
 Tour cheeks all glowing with a tempting red ; 
 
 Tour night-clothes tumhled with resistless grace, 
 
 Your ilowing hair play'd careless down your face 
 
 Tour night-gown fasten'd with a single pin ; 
 
 — Pancy improv'd the wondrous charms within ! 
 
 I fix'd my eyes upon that heaving breast, 
 
 And hardly, hardly, I forbore the rest : 
 
 Eager to gaze, unsatisfied with sight, 
 
 My head grew giddy with the near delight ! 
 
 — Too well you know the fatal following night ! 
 
 Th' extremest proof of my desire I give. 
 
 And since you will not love, I will not live. 
 
 Condemn'd by you, I wait the righteous doom. 
 
 Careless and fearless of the woes to come. 
 
 But when you see me waver in the wind, 
 
 My guilty flame extinct, my soul resign'd. 
 
 Sure you may pity what you can't approve. 
 
 The cruel consequence of furious love. 
 
 Think the bold wretch, that could so greatly dare, 
 
 "Was tender, faithful, ardent, and sincere ; 
 
 Think when I held the pistol to your breast, — 
 
 Had I been of the world's large rule possess'd, — 
 
 That world had then been yours, and I beea blest ; 
 
 Think that my life was quite below my care, 
 
 Nor fear'd I any hell beyond despair. — 
 
 If these reflections, though they seize you late, 
 G-ive some compassion for your Arthur's fate : 
 Enough you give, nor ought I to complain : 
 Tou pay my pangs, nor have I died in vain. 
 
 THE EOURTH ODE OE THE EIEST BOOK 
 OF HOEACE IMITATED. 
 
 " Solvitur acris hyems grata vice veris," &c. 
 
 Shaep winter now dissolv'd, the linnets sing. 
 The grateful breath of pleasing Zephyrs bring 
 The welcome joys of long-desired spring. 
 The galleys now for open sea prepare. 
 The herds forsake their stalls for balmy air, 
 The fields adora'd with green th' approaching sun declare. 
 
POEMS. 481 
 
 In shining nights the charming Venus leads 
 Her troop of Graces, and her lovely maids, 
 Who gaily trip the ground in myrtle shades. 
 
 The blazing forge her husband Yulcan heats 
 And thunderlike the labouring hammer beats, 
 "While toiling Cyclops every stroke repeats. 
 
 Of myrtle new the cheerful wreath compose. 
 Of various flowers which opening spring bestows. 
 Till coming June presents the blushing rose. 
 
 Pay your vow'd offering to Q-od Faunus' bower ! 
 Then, happy Sestius, seize the present hour, 
 'Tis all that nature leaves to mortal power. 
 
 The equal hand of strong impartial Fate 
 Levels the peasant and th' imperious great, 
 Nor will that doom on human projects wait. 
 
 To the dark mansions of the senseless dead, 
 "With daily steps our destin'd path we tread, 
 Eealms still unknown, of which so much is said. 
 
 Ended your schemes of pleasure and of pride, 
 In joyous feasts no one will there preside, 
 Torn from your Lycidas' beloved side. 
 
 "Whose tender youth does now our eyes engage. 
 And soon will give, in his maturer age. 
 Sighs to our virgins — to our matrons rage. 
 
 THE FIFTH ODE OF THE FIEST BOOK OP 
 HOEACE IMITATED. 
 
 '' Quis inult& gracilis te puer in ro3&." 
 
 Foe. whom are now your airs put on. 
 And what new beauty's doom'd to be undone ? 
 
 That careless elegance of dress. 
 This essence that perfumes the wind. 
 
 Tour ev'ry motion does confess 
 Some secret conquest is design'd. 
 
 Alas ! the poor unhappy maid. 
 To what a train of ills betray'd ! 
 
 "What fears, what pangs shall rend her breast. 
 How will her eyes dissolve in tears ! 
 
 That now with glowing joy is bless'd, 
 Charm'd with the faithless vows she hears. 
 VOL. II. 2 I 
 
482 POEMS. 
 
 So the young sailor on the summer sea 
 Gaily pursues his destin'd way : 
 
 Pearless and careless on the deck he stands, 
 Till sudden storms arise and thunders roll ; 
 
 In vain he casts his eyes to distant lands, 
 Distracting terror tears his timorous soul. 
 
 Por me, secure I view the raging main, 
 Past are my danger, and forgot my pain: 
 
 My votive tablet in the temple shows 
 The monument of folly past ; 
 
 I paid the bounteous god my grateful vows, 
 "Who snatch' d from ruin, sav'd me at the last. 
 
 THE LOVBE: A BALLAD. 
 
 TO ME. COjST&EEVE.' ' 
 
 At length, by so much importunity press'd. 
 
 Take, Congreve, at once the inside of my breast. 
 
 This stupid indifFrence so often you blame. 
 
 Is not owing to nature, to fear, or to shame : 
 
 I am not as cold as a virgin in lead, 
 
 Nor are Sunday's sermons so strong in my head : 
 
 I know but too well how time flies along, 
 
 That we live but few years, and yet fewer are young. 
 
 But I hate to be cheated, and never will buy 
 
 Long years of repentance for moments of joy. 
 
 Oh ! was there a man (but where shall I find 
 
 Q-ood sense and good-nature so equally join'd ?) 
 
 Would value his pleasure, contribute to mine ; 
 
 Not meanly would boast, nor lewdly design ; 
 
 Not over severe, yet not stupidly vain. 
 
 For I would have the power, though not give the pain. 
 
 No pedant, yet learned ; no rake-helly gay. 
 Or laughing, because he has nothing to say ; 
 To all my whole sex obliging and free, 
 Tet never be fond of any but me ; 
 
 ' I have found this poem in a commonplace-book of Lady Mary's, headed in her 
 handwriting, " To Molly." It was, I suspect, really addressed to Lord Hervey. 
 — T. 
 
POEMS. 483 
 
 In public preserve the decorum that's just, 
 And show in his eyes he is true to his trust ! 
 Then rarely approach, and respectfully bow, 
 But not fulsomely pert, nor yet foppishly low. 
 
 But when the long hours of public are past, 
 And we meet with champagne and a chicken at last, 
 May every fond pleasure that moment endear ; 
 Be banish'd afar both discretion and fear ! 
 Forgetting or scorning the airs of the crowd, 
 He may cease to bo formal, and I to be proud. 
 Till lost in the joy, we confess that we live, 
 And he may be rude, and yet I may forgive. 
 
 And that my delight may be solidly fii'd, 
 
 Let the friend and the lover be handsomely mix'd ; 
 
 In whose tender bosom my soul may confide, 
 
 "Whose kindness can soothe me, whose counsel can guide. 
 
 From such a dear lover as here I describe, 
 
 No danger should fright me, no millions should bribe ; 
 
 But still this astonishing creature I know. 
 
 As I long have liv'd chaste, I will keep myself so. 
 
 I never will share with the wanton coquette. 
 
 Or be caught by a vain affectation of wit. 
 
 The toasters and songsters may try all their art, 
 
 But never" shall enter the pass of my heart. 
 
 I loathe the lewd rake, the dress'd fopling despise : 
 
 Before such pursuers the nice virgin flies ; 
 
 And as Ovid has sweetly in parable told. 
 
 We harden like trees, and like rivers grow cold. 
 
 ON SEEING 
 
 A POETEAIT OP SIE EOBEET WALPOLE. 
 
 Such; were the lively eyes and rosy hue 
 Of Eobin's face, when Eobin first I knew ; 
 The gay companion and the favourite guest ; 
 Lov'd without awe, and without views caress'd ; 
 His cheerful smUe, and open honest look, 
 Added new graces to the truth he spoke. 
 2 i2 
 
484 POEMS. 
 
 Then every man found something to commend, 
 The pleasant neighbour and the worthy friend ; 
 The generous master of a private house, 
 The tender father and indulgent spouse. 
 
 The hardest censors at the worst believ'd, 
 His temper was too easily deceiv'd 
 (A consequential ill good-nature draws, 
 A bad effect, but from a noble cause). 
 Whence, then, these clamours of a judging crowd ? 
 Suspicious, griping, insolent, and proud — 
 Rapacious, cruel, violent, unjust ; 
 Ealse to his friend, and traitor to his trust ? 
 
 AN ELEG-Y ON MES. THOMPSON." 
 
 TJnhappt fair, by fatal love betray 'd! 
 Must then ^hy beauties thus untimely fade ! 
 And all thy blooming, soft, inspiring charms. 
 Become a prey to Death's destructive arms ! 
 Though short thy day, and transient like the wijid, 
 How far more blest than those yet left behind ! 
 Safe in the grave thy griefs with thee remain ; 
 And life's tempestuous billows break in vain. 
 Te tender nymphs in lawless pastimes gay, 
 "Who heedless down the paths of pleasure stray ; 
 Though long secure, with blissful joy elate, 
 Tet pause, and think of Arabella's fate ; 
 For such may be your unexpected doom. 
 And your next pleasures lull you in the tomb. 
 But let it be the muse's gentle care 
 To shield from envy's rage the mould'ring fair ; 
 To draw a veil o'er faults she can't defend ; 
 And what prudes have devour'd, leave time to end : 
 Be it her part to drop a pitying tear. 
 And mourning sigh around thy sable bier, 
 
 ' Arabella, the -wife of Edward Thompson, Esq., one of the daughters and co- 
 heirs of Edmund Dunch, Esq. The others were the Duchess of Manchester and 
 Lady Oxenden. — D. Mrs. Thompson's story is told by Lord Hervey in his Memoirs 
 of the Reign of George II. (ii 346). According to this, she was separated from 
 her husband in consequence of an intrigue with the notorious Sir George Oxenden, 
 and died in childbed. — T. 
 
POEMS. 485 
 
 Nor shall thy woes long glad th' ill-natur'd crowd, 
 
 Silent to praise, and in detraction loud : 
 
 When scandal, that through life each worth destroys, 
 
 And malice that emhitters all our joys, 
 
 Shall in some ill-starr'd wretch find later stains, 
 
 And let thine rest, forgot as thy remains. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MES. BOWES.^ 
 
 Written extempore on a card, in a large company, December 14, 1724. 
 
 Hail, happy bride, for thou art truly blest ! 
 
 Three months of rapture, crown'd with endless rest. 
 
 Merit like yours was Heav'n's peculiar care, 
 
 Tou lov'd — yet tasted happiness sincere. 
 
 To you the sweets of love were only shown, 
 
 The sure succeeding bitter dregs unknown ; 
 
 Tou had not yet the fatal change deplor'd, 
 
 The tender lover for th' imperious lord : 
 
 Nor felt the pain that jealous fondness brings : 
 
 Nor felt, that coldness from possession springs. 
 
 Above your sex, distinguish'd in your fate, 
 
 Tou trusted — yet experienc'd no deceit ; 
 
 Soft were your hours, and wing'd with pleasure flew ; 
 
 No vain repentance gave a sigh to you : 
 
 And if superior bliss Heaven can bestow, 
 
 With fellow-angels you enjoy it now. 
 
 A MAN IN LOVE. 
 
 " L'Homme qui ne ee trouve point, et ne se trouvera jamais." 
 
 The man who feels the dear disease. 
 Forgets himself, neglects to please. 
 The crowd avoids, and seeks the groves. 
 And much he thinks when much he loves ; 
 Press' d with alternate hope and fear, 
 Sigha in her absence, sighs when near. 
 The gay, the fond, the fair, the young. 
 Those trifles pass unseen along, 
 
 ' Eleanor, tlie daughter of tlie Honourable Thomas Verney, eldest son of 
 Thomas Lord WUloughby de Broke, married George Bowes, Esq., of Streatlam, 
 in the county of Durham, October 1, 1724, and died December 4, in the same 
 year. — W. 
 
486 POEMS. 
 
 To him a pert insipid throng. 
 But most he shuns the vain coquette ; 
 Contemns her false affected wit : 
 The minstrel's sound, the flowing bowl, 
 Oppress and hurt the amorous soul. 
 'Tis solitude alone can please, 
 And give some intervals of ease. 
 He feeds the soft distemper there. 
 And fondly courts the distant fair ; 
 To balls the silent shade prefers, 
 And hates all other charms but hers. 
 When thus your absent swain can do, 
 Molly, you may believe him true. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 To the tune of " The Irish Howl." 
 To that dear nymph, vs-hose pow'rful name 
 Does every throbbing nerve inflame 
 (As the soft sound I low repeat. 
 My pulse unequal measures beat), 
 "Whose eyes I never more shall see. 
 That once so sweetly shin'd on thee ; 
 Go, gentle wind ! and kindly bear 
 My tender wishes to the fair. 
 
 Hoh, ho, ho, &c. 
 
 Amidst her pleasures let her know 
 The secret anguish of my woe, 
 The midnight pang, the jealous hell. 
 Does in this tortur'd bosom dwell : 
 "While laughing she, and full of play, 
 Is with her young companions gay ; . 
 Or hearing in some fragrant bower 
 Her lover's sigh, and beauty's power. 
 
 Hoh, ho, ho, &c. 
 
 Lost and forgotten may I be ! 
 Oh may no pitying thought of me 
 Disturb the joy that she may find, 
 "When love is crown'd and fortune kind : 
 May that bless'd swain (whom yet I bate) 
 Be proud of his distinguish'd fate : 
 
POEMS. 487 
 
 Eacli happy night be like the first ; 
 And he be bless'd as I am curs'd. 
 
 Hob, ho, ho, &c. 
 
 "While in these pathless woods I stray, 
 And lose my solitary way ; 
 Talk to the stars, to trees complain, 
 And tell the senseless words my pain : 
 But madness spares the sacred name. 
 Nor dares the hidden wound proclaim ; 
 Which, secret rankling, sure and slow. 
 Shall close in endless peace my woe. 
 
 Hob, ho, ho, <fcc. 
 
 When this fond heart shall ache no more. 
 And aU the ills of life are o'er 
 (If gods by lovers' prayers are mov'd. 
 As ev'ry god in heaven has lov'd) ; 
 Instead of bright Elysianjoys, 
 That unknown something in the skies. 
 In recompense of all my pain. 
 The only heaven I'd obtain, 
 May I, the guardian of her charms. 
 Preserve that paradise from harms. 
 
 Hob, ho, bo, &c. 
 
 A HYMN TO THE MOON. 
 
 Writteu in JUI7, in an arbour. 
 Tnor silver deity of secret night, 
 
 Direct my footsteps through the woodland shade ; 
 Thou conscious witness of unknown delight. 
 
 The Lover's guardian, and the Muse's aid! 
 
 By thy pale beams I solitary rove. 
 
 To thee my tender grief confide ; 
 Serenely sweet you gild the silent grove. 
 
 My friend, my goddess, and my guide. 
 E'en thee, fair queen, from thy amazing height. 
 
 The charms of young Endymion drew; 
 Veil'd with the mantle of concealing night ; 
 
 With all thy greatness and thy coldness too.^ 
 
 ' This Bonnet is preserved by Count Algarotti in the seventh volume of his 
 ■works, and is there mentioned vrith great commendation, — D. 
 
488 POEMS. 
 
 TEANSLATED BT HEESELF. 
 
 Della notte serena argentea Diva, 
 Testimon' fido de' piaceri ignoti : 
 Cuatode degli amanti e delle Muse 
 Eautrice, reggi me ne' boschi oacuri. 
 Da' tuoi pallidi rai scorto io camino 
 Su la terra, ed a te svelo i piu cupi 
 Pensieri. Ah indora il tacitorno boseo, 
 Dolcemente serena arnica mia, 
 E mia guida, e mia Dea. Bella reina, 
 Te dalla tua prodigiosa altezza 
 II lusinghiero Endimione attrasse, 
 Del velo ingombra della notte oscura, 
 Della tua ampiezza in onta e del tuo gelo. 
 
 THE BEIDE IN THE CODNTET. 
 
 A Parody on Kowe's Ballad, *' Despairing beside a clear stream," &c. 
 
 Bt the side of a half-rotten wood 
 
 Melantha sat silently down, 
 Convinc'd that her scheme was not good, 
 
 And vex'd to be absent«from Town. 
 Whilst pitied by no living soul. 
 
 To herself she was forc'd to reply, 
 And the sparrovr, as grave as an owl, 
 
 Sat liat'ning and pecking hard by. 
 
 " Alas ! silly maid that I was !" 
 
 Thus sadly complaining, ahe cried ; 
 " "When first I forsook that dear place, 
 
 'T had been better by far I had died ! 
 How gaily I pasa'd the long days. 
 
 In a round of continual delights ; 
 Park, visits, assemblies, and plays, 
 
 And a dance to enliven the nights. 
 
POEMS. 489 
 
 " How simple was I to believe 
 
 Delusive poetical dreams ! 
 Or the flattering landscapes they give 
 
 Of meadows aud murmuring streams. 
 Bleak mountains, and cold starving rocks, 
 
 Are the wretched result of my pains ; 
 The swains greater brutes than their flocks, 
 
 The nymphs as polite as the swains. 
 
 " What though I have got my dear Phil ; 
 
 I see him all night and all day ; 
 I find I must not have my will, 
 
 And I've cursedly sworn to obey ! 
 Pond damsel, thy power is lost, 
 
 As now I experience too late ! 
 Whatever a lover may boast, 
 
 A husband is what one may hate ! 
 
 " And thou, my old woman, so dear. 
 
 My all that is left of relief, 
 Whatever I suffer, forbear — 
 
 Forbear to dissuade me from grief: 
 'Tis in vain, as you say, to repine 
 
 At ills which cannot be redress'd ; 
 But, in sorrows so poignant as mine. 
 
 To be patient, alas ! is a jest. 
 
 " If, further to soothe my distress, 
 
 Tour tender compassion is led, 
 Come hither and help to undress, 
 
 And decently put me to bed. 
 The last humble solace I wait, 
 
 Would Heav'n but indulge me the boon, 
 May some dream, less unkind thau my fate. 
 
 In a vision transport me to Town. 
 
 " Clarissa, meantime, weds a beau. 
 
 Who decks her in golden array : 
 She's the finest at ev'ry fine show, 
 
 And flaunts it at Park and at Play : 
 
490 POEMS. 
 
 Whilst I am here left in the lurch, 
 Forgot and secluded from view ; 
 
 Unless when some tumpkin at church 
 Stares wistfully over the pew." 
 
 The following is another version of the preceding poem, as it 
 was set to music, and called 
 
 MELINDA'S COMPLAINT.' 
 
 Bt the side of a glimmering fire, 
 
 Melinda sat pensively down. 
 Impatient of rural esquire, 
 
 And vex'd to be absent from Town. 
 The cricket, from imder the grate, 
 
 With a chirp to her sighs did reply ; 
 And the kitten, as grave as a cat. 
 
 Sat mournfully purring hard by. 
 
 "Alas ! silly maid that I was !" 
 
 Thus sadly complaining, she cried ; 
 " When first I forsook that dear place, 
 
 'T were better by far I had died ! 
 How gaily I passed the long day, 
 
 In a round of continu'd delight ; 
 Park, visits, assemblies, and play, 
 
 And quadrille to enliven the night. 
 
 " How simple was I to believe 
 
 Delusive poetical dreams ! 
 The flattering landskips they give - 
 
 Of groves, meads, and murmuring streams. 
 Bleak mountains, and wild staring rocks, 
 
 Are the wretched result of my pains ; 
 The swains greater brutes than their flocks. 
 
 And the nymphs as polite as the swains. 
 
 " What though I have skill to ensnare. 
 Where Smarts in bright circles abound ; 
 
 What though at St. James's at prayers, 
 Beaux ogle devoutly around : 
 
 ' This poem was forwarded to Lord Wharncliffe by Mr. Sharpe. It does not 
 appear to have beea written by Lady Mary. — T. 
 
POEMS. 491 
 
 Fond virgin, thy power is lost 
 
 On a race of rude Hottentot brutes ; 
 
 What glory in being the toast 
 Of noisy dull 'squires in boots ? 
 
 " And thou, my companion, so dear, 
 
 My all that is left of relief, 
 "WhateTer I suffer, forbear — 
 
 Forbear to dissuade me from grief : 
 'lis in vain then, you'll say to repine 
 
 At ills which cannot be redress'd, 
 But in sorrows so pungent as mine, 
 
 To be patient, alas ! is a test. 
 
 " If, further to soothe my distress. 
 
 Thy tender compassion is led, 
 Call Jenny to help me undress. 
 
 And decently put me to bed. 
 The last humble solace I wait, 
 
 Would Heaven indulge me the boon, 
 Some dream less unkind than my fate 
 
 In a vision transport me to Town. 
 
 " Clarissa, meantime, weds a bean. 
 
 Who decks her in golden array ; 
 The finest at every fine show. 
 
 And flaunts it at Park and at Play ; 
 Whilst here we are left in the lurch, 
 
 Forgot and secluded from view. 
 Unless when some bumpkin at church 
 
 Stares wistfully over the pew." 
 
 SONG-. 
 
 Wht should you think I live unpleas'd, 
 Because I am not pleased with you ? 
 
 My miad is not so far diseas'd, 
 To yield when powder'd fops pursue. 
 
 My vanity can find no charm 
 In common prostituted vows ; 
 
 Nor can you raise a wish that's warm 
 In one that your true value knows. 
 
492 POEMS. 
 
 While cold and careless thus I shun 
 The buzz and flutter that you make, 
 
 Perhaps some giddy girl may run 
 To catch the prize that I forsake. 
 
 So brightly shines the glittering glare, 
 In unexperienc'd children's eyes, 
 
 When they with little arts ensnare 
 The gaudy painted butterflies. 
 
 "While they with pride the conquest boast, 
 And think the chase deserving care. 
 
 Those scorn the useless toil they cost 
 Who're us'd to more substantial fare. 
 
 SONG— EONDEAU. 
 TTiNiSH these languors ! Oh ! I'm sick 
 Of dying airs, I know the trick ; 
 Long since I've learn'd to well explain 
 Th' unmeaning cant of fire and pain, 
 And see through all the senseless lies 
 Of burning darts from killing eyes ; 
 I'm tir'd with this continual rout 
 Of bowing low and leading out. 
 
 Knish, &e. 
 
 Finish this tedious dangling trade. 
 By which so many fools are made ; 
 For fools they are, whom you can please 
 By such affected airs as these : 
 At opera near my box to stand. 
 And slyly press the given hand, 
 Thus may you wait whole years in vain ; 
 But sure you would, were you in pain. 
 
 Pinish, &c. 
 
 EPITHALAMIUM. 
 Since you, Mr. H * * d, will marry black Kate, 
 Accept of good wishes for that blessed state : 
 May you fight all the day like a dog and a cat, 
 And yet ev'ry year produce a new brat. 
 
 Fal la ! 
 
POEMS. 493 
 
 May she never be honest — you never be sound ; 
 May her tongue like a clapper be heard a mile round ; 
 Till abandon'd by joy, and deserted by grace, 
 You hang yourselves both in the very same place. 
 
 Fal la ! ' 
 
 THE NINTH ODE OP THE THIED BOOK OF 
 
 HOEACE IMITATED. 
 
 1736.2 
 
 " Donee gratus eram tibi." 
 SIE EOBEET WALPOLB. 
 
 Whilst in each of my schemes you most heartily join'd, 
 And help'd the worst jobs that I ever design' d, 
 In pamphlets, in ballads, in senate, at table, 
 Thy satire was witty, thy counsel was able. 
 
 WILLIAM PULTEfTET. 
 
 Whilst with me you divided both profit and care, 
 And the plunder and glory did equally share ; 
 Assur'd of his place, if ray fat friend should die, 
 The Prince of Wales was not so happy as I. 
 
 SIE ROBBET WALPOLE. 
 
 Harry Pelhara is now my support and delight. 
 Whom we bubble all day, and we joke on at night ; 
 His head is well furnish'd, his lungs have their merit, 
 I would venture a rope to advance such a spirit. 
 
 WILLIAM PULTEFET. 
 
 I too have a Harry more useful than yours, 
 Writes verses like mad, and will talk you whole hours ; 
 I would bleed by the hatchet, or swing by the cord, 
 To see him once more in his robes, like a lord. 
 
 SIE EOBEET WALPOLE. 
 
 But what if this quarrel was kindly made up, 
 Would you, my dear Willy, accept of a sup ? 
 If the queen should confess you had long been her choice. 
 And you knew it was I who had spoke in her voice ? 
 
 ' I have not been able to discover who are the parties here referred to. — T. 
 
 '' " Pulteney at this time interchanged some secret civilities with the court and 
 with the Walpoles (Wal. Cor., May 25, 1736), which explains Lady M. W. Mon- 
 tagu's parody of Horace and Lydia into a dialogue between Walpole and Pul- 
 teney." — Note of Mr. Crolcer to Lord Herveys Memoirs of the Reign of George II., 
 ii. 86. Mr. Croker refers to Sir R. Walpole's correspondence in Coxe's Memoirs, 
 ito, 1798, iii. 321.— T. 
 
494 POEMS. 
 
 WILLIAM PrLTENET. 
 
 Though my Harry's so gay, so polite, and so civil, 
 Tou rude as a bear, and more proud than the devil, 
 I gladly would drop him, and laugh in your ear 
 At the fools we have made for this last dozen vear. 
 
 A SUMMARY 
 
 OF LOED LTTTLETON'S ADVICE TO A LADT. 
 
 " The counsels of a friend, Belinda, hear," &c. 
 
 Be plaiu in dress, and sober in your diet ; 
 
 In short, my deary, kiss me ! and be quiet. 
 
 SONG.i 
 "Why will Delia thus retire. 
 
 And languish life away ? 
 Why the sighing crows admire, 
 
 'Tis too soon for hartshorn tea. 
 
 All these dismal looks and fretting 
 
 Cannot Damon's life restore ; 
 Long ago the worms have eat him, 
 
 Tou can never see him more. 
 Once again consult your toilet. 
 
 In the glass your face review ; 
 So much weeping sure will spoil it. 
 
 And no spring your charms renew. 
 
 I, like you, was born a woman, 
 "Well I know what vapours mean ! 
 
 The disease, alas ! is common. 
 Single we have all the spleen. 
 
 All the morals that they teach us 
 
 Never cured our sorrows yet : 
 Choose among the pretty fellows 
 
 One of humour, youth, and wit. 
 Prithee hear him ev'ry morning. 
 
 At the least an hour or two ; 
 Once again at night returning, 
 
 I believe the dose will do. 
 
 > To Lady Inrin, daughter of the Earl of Carlisle. An answer by Lady Irwin 
 may be found in the so-called Additions to Pope's Works, 1776, vol. i. p. 170. — T. 
 
POEMS. 495 
 
 THE SAME, 
 
 TKANSLATED BT LADT M. TV. MONTAGU. 
 
 Recipe per rEccellentissima Signora Chiara Michelli. 
 
 Vi consigliate con lo specchio, e il vostro 
 Viso mirate — lagrime cotante 
 Lo guasteranno, ed i perduti vezzi 
 Non avranno altra primavera. lo nacqui, 
 Donna, qual voi, e so qual Toi la forza 
 Che hanno i vapori e infirmity commune : 
 Tutte abbiam mal di milza, e non sanaro 
 Delle moral le massime piu saggi 
 Gli minimi neppur de' nostri guai. 
 II piii amabile voi tra tanti amanti 
 Sceglier vi piaccia, e sopra tutto quello 
 Cbi piii degli altri ba gioventude e spirito ; 
 lo vi prego d'udirlo un ora al giomo, 
 Ed un altra la sera, e questa dose 
 Sia bastaute rimedio al vostro male. 
 
 THE POLITICIANS. 
 In ancient days wben every brute 
 
 To bumble privilege bad rigbt ; 
 Could reason, wrangle, or dispute, 
 
 Aa well as scratch, and tear, and bite ; 
 
 When Phoebus shone his brightest ray, 
 The rip'ning com his pow'r confess'd ; 
 
 His cheering beams made Nature gay, 
 The eagle in his warmth was blest. 
 
 But malcontents e'en then arose. 
 
 The birds who love the dolesome night 
 
 The darkest grove with care they chose. 
 And there caball'd against the light. 
 
 The screech-owl, with ill-boding cry. 
 
 Portends strange things, old women say, 
 
 Stops every fool that passes by, 
 
 And frights the schoolboy from his play. 
 
496 POEMS. 
 
 The raven and the double bat, 
 
 With families of owla combine ; 
 In close cousult they rail and chat, 
 
 And curse aloud the glorious shine. 
 While the great planet, all serene, 
 
 Heedless pursues his destin'd way. 
 He asks not what these murmurs mean. 
 
 But runs hia course, and gives us day. 
 
 BALLAD, ON A LATE OOCUEEENCB. 
 
 AMOKG LADT M. W. MONTAGu'S MSB.' 
 
 Un&odlv papers ev'ry week 
 
 Poor simple souls persuade 
 That courtiers good for nothing are, 
 
 Or but for mischief made. 
 But I who know their worthy hearts. 
 
 Pronounce that we are blind. 
 Who disappoint their honest schemes. 
 
 Who would be just and kind. 
 For in this vile degen'rate age 
 
 'Tis dang'rous to do good ; 
 Which will, when I have told my tale, 
 
 Be better understood. 
 A puppy, gamesome, blithe, and young, 
 
 Who play'd about the court. 
 Was destin'd by unlucky boys, 
 
 To be their noonday's sport. 
 With flatt'ring words they him entic'd, 
 
 (Words such as much prevail !) 
 And then with cruel art they tied 
 
 A bottle to his tail. 
 Lord Hervey at a window stood. 
 
 Detesting of the fact ; 
 And cried aloud with all his might, 
 
 " I know the bottle's crack'd. 
 
 1 It is very improbable that Lady Mary -wrote this poem. There are " among her 
 MSS." a great many poems, both in her own and other persons' handwritings, 
 which are certainly not by her. — T. 
 
POEMS. 497 
 
 " Do not to such a dirty hole 
 
 Let them your tail apply ; 
 Alas ! you cannot know these things . 
 
 One half so well as L 
 
 " Harmless and young, you don't suspect 
 
 The venom of this deed ; 
 But I see through the whole design, — 
 
 It ia to make you bleed." 
 
 This good advice was cast away ; 
 
 The puppy saw it shine ; 
 And tamely Uck'd their treach'rous hands, 
 
 And thought himself grown fine. 
 
 But long he had not worn the gem, 
 
 But, as Lord Hervey said. 
 He ran and bled ; the more he ran, 
 
 Alas ! the more he bled. 
 
 Griev'd to the soul, this gallant lord 
 
 Tripp' d hastily down stairs ; 
 With courage and compassion fir'd. 
 
 To set him free prepares. 
 
 But such was his ingratitude 
 
 To this most noble lord. 
 He bit his lily hand quite through, 
 
 As he untied the cord. 
 
 Next day the Maids of Honour came. 
 
 As I heard people tell ; 
 They wash'd the wound with brinish tears, 
 
 — And yet it is not well. 
 
 Oh ! gen'rous youth, my counsel take. 
 
 And warlike acts forbear ; 
 Put on white gloves, and lead folks out, ^ 
 
 — ]?or that is your affair.^ 
 
 Never attempt to take away 
 
 Bottles from others' tails, 
 For that is what no soul will bear 
 
 From Italy to "Wales. 
 
 ' Lord Hervej was at that time vice-chamberlain. — D. 
 VOL. II. 2 K 
 
498 POEMS. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Blamu not that love, too cruel fair, 
 Which your own charms did first create ; 
 
 Blame not my silence and despair, — 
 Such crimes can ne'er deserve your hate : 
 
 Why should your eyes first stir desire ? 
 
 Tour matchless wit, why fan the fire ? 
 Eepentance comes too late. 
 
 Vain are the vows that you complain 
 Are to another fondly made ; 
 
 All your advice to me's as vain ; 
 Tou must not — cannot be obey'd ; 
 
 My heart can't change, though you command. 
 
 Nor can my heart obey your hand ! 
 Love's power none can evade ! 
 
 [Lord Whamcliffe here inserted some " Lines written under the Picture of 
 Colonel Churchill," they having been found attributed to Lady Mary in a com- 
 monplace-book of Lady Mary Finch. This fact is, of course, no evidence of 
 authorship. The lines were, in fact, written by David Mallet, and published among 
 his poems. — T.] 
 
 VEESES, WEITTEN IN A GARDEN. 
 
 See how the pair of billing doves 
 With open murmurs own their loves ; 
 And, heedless of censorious eyes, 
 Pursue their unpolluted joys ; 
 No fears of future want molest 
 The downy quiet of their nest :• 
 No int'rest join'd the happy pair, 
 Securely blest in Natm-e's care. 
 While her dictates they pursue ; 
 For constancy is Nature too. 
 
 Can all the doctrine of the schools, 
 Our maxims, our religious rules, 
 Can learning to our lives ensure. 
 Virtue so bright, or bliss so pure ? 
 
POEMS. 499 
 
 The great Creator's happy ends 
 Virtue and pleasure ever blends : 
 In. vain the Church and Court have tried 
 . Th' united essence to divide ; 
 Alike they find their wild mistake, 
 The pedant priest and giddy rake. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Fond wishes you pursue in vain, 
 My heart is vow'd away and gone ; 
 
 Forbear thy sighs, too, lovely swain, 
 Those dying airs that you put on ! 
 
 Go try on other maids your art, 
 
 Ah ! leave this lost unworthy heart, 
 But you must leave it soon. 
 
 Such sighs as these you should bestow 
 On some unpractis'd blooming fair; 
 
 Where rosy youth doth warmly glow, 
 Whose eyes forbid you to despair. 
 
 Not all thy wond'rous charms can move 
 
 A heart that must refuse your love, 
 Or not deserve your care. 
 
 IMPEOMPTU, TO A YOUNG LADT SINGING. 
 
 Sing, gentle maid — reform my breast, 
 
 And soften all my care ; 
 Thus may I be some moments blest, 
 
 And easy in despair. 
 The pow'r of Orpheus lives in you ; 
 Tou can the passions of my soul subdue, 
 
 And tame the lions and the tigers there. 
 
 ADVICE. 
 
 Cease, fond shepherd — cease desiring 
 What you never must enjoy ; 
 
 She derides your vain aspiring, 
 She to all your sex is coy. 
 
500 POEMS. 
 
 Cunning Damon once pursu'd her, 
 Tet she never would incline ; 
 
 Strephon too as vainly woo'd her, 
 
 Though his flocks are more than thine. 
 
 At Diana's shrine aloud. 
 
 By the zone around her waist, 
 
 Thrice she bow'd, and thrice she vow'd 
 Like the Groddess to be chaste. 
 
 ANSWEE. 
 Though I never got possession, 
 
 'Tis a pleasure to adore ; 
 Hope, the wretch's only blessing. 
 
 May in time procure me more. 
 
 Constant courtship may obtain her, — 
 Where both wealth and merit fail. 
 
 And the lucky minute gain her, — 
 Fate and fancy must prevail. 
 
 At Diana's shrine aloud, 
 
 By the bow and by the quiver. 
 
 Thrice she bow'd, and thrice she vow'd, 
 Once to love — and that for ever. 
 
 EPISTLE TO LOED HEEVET ON THE KING'S 
 BIETHDAT. 
 
 TEOM THE COXTNTBT. 
 
 Where I enjoy in contemplative chamber, 
 Lutes, laurels, seas of milk, and ships of amber. 
 
 Thro Ti an shining crowds you now make way, 
 "With sideling bow and golden key ; 
 While wrapped in spleen and easy-chair, 
 Eor all this pomp so small my care, 
 I scarce remember who are there. 
 Tet in brocade I can suppose 
 The potent Enight' whose presence goes 
 At least a yard before his nose : 
 
 > Sir Robert M'alpole.— P. 
 
POEMS. .901 
 
 And majesty with sweeping train, 
 That does so many yards contain, 
 
 Superior to her waiting nymphs, 
 
 As lobster to attendant shrimps. 
 
 I do not ask one word of news, 
 
 "Which country damsels much amuse. 
 
 If a new batch of Lords appears, 
 
 After a tour of half six years. 
 
 With foreign years to grace the nation, 
 
 The Maids of Honour's admiration ; 
 
 Whose bright improvements give surprise 
 
 To their own lady-mother's eyes : 
 
 Improvements, such as colts might show, 
 
 Were mares so mad to let them go ; 
 
 Their limbs perhaps a little stronger, 
 
 Their manes and tails grown somewhat longer. 
 
 I would not hear of ball-room scuffles, 
 
 Nor what new whims adorn the ruffles. 
 
 This meek epistle comes to tell, 
 
 On Monday, I in town shaU dwell; 
 
 Where, if you please to condescend 
 
 In Cavendish-square^ to see your friend, 
 
 I shall disclose to you alone 
 
 Such thoughts as ne'er were thought upon. 
 
 EPIGEAM, 1734.2 
 
 BoEN to be slaves, our fathers freedom sought. 
 And with their blood the precious treasure bought ; 
 We their mean offspring our own bondage plot, 
 And, bom to freedom, for our chains we vote. 
 
 AN ANSWBE TO A LADT, 
 
 WHO ADTISBD LADT M. W. MOlfTAGTJ TO EETIBE. 
 
 Tou little know the heart that you advise : 
 I view this various scene with equal eyes ; 
 In crowded courts I find myself alone. 
 And pay my worship to a nobler throne. 
 
 ' Mr. Wortley Montagu's town-houae was in Cavendish-square, wher e he re- 
 sided, at least as earjy as August, 1732. Lady Mary's letters to him during her 
 long residence in Italy are sometimes addressed to him there. — T. 
 
 2 From a copy in Lady Mary's handwriting, with the initials " M. W. M." — T, 
 
502 POEMS. 
 
 Long since the value of this world I know ; 
 Pitied the foUy, and despis'd the show ; 
 Well as I can, my tedious part I bear, 
 And wait dismissal without pain or fear. 
 
 Seldom I mark mankind's detested ways, 
 Not hearing censure or affecting praise ; 
 And unconcem'd my future fate I trust 
 To that sole Being, merciful and just ! 
 
 WEITTEN AT LOVEEE, OOTOBEE, 1736.1 
 If age and sickness, poverty and pain, 
 
 Should each assault me with alternate plagues, 
 I know mankind is destin'd to complain, 
 
 And I submit to torment and fatigues. 
 
 The pious farmer, who ne'er misses pray'rs, 
 
 "With patience suffers unexpected rain ; 
 
 He blesses Heav'n for what its bounty spares, 
 
 And sees, resign' d, a crop of blighted grain. 
 
 But, spite of sermons, farmers would blaspheme. 
 If a star fell to set their thatch on flame. 
 
 CONCLTJSIOISr OP A LETTEE TO A EEIEND. 
 
 SENT TBOM ITAXT, 1741. 
 
 But happy you from the contagion free, 
 Who, through her veil, can human nature see ; 
 Calm you reflect, amid the frantic scene, 
 On the low views of those mistaken men, 
 Who lose the short invaluable hour. 
 Through dirt-pursuing schemes of distant pow'r : 
 Whose best enjoyments never pay the chase, 
 But melt like snow within a warm embrace. 
 Believe me, friend, for such indeed are you, 
 Dear to my heart, and to my int'rest true ; 
 Too much already have you thrown away. 
 Too long sustain'd the labour of the day ; 
 Enjoy the remnant of declining light, 
 Nor wait for rest till overwhelm'd in night. 
 By present pleasure balance pain you've past, 
 Eorget all systems, and indulge your taste. 
 
 ' This date must be erroneous. Lady Mary was not at Lovere till 1747. Sea 
 ante, p, 153.— T. 
 
POEMS. 503 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Whbeetee Fortune points my destin'd way, 
 If my capricious stars ordaia my stay 
 In gilded palace, or in rural scene. 
 While breath shaU. animate this frail machine, 
 My heart sincere, which never flatt'ry knew, 
 Shall consecrate its warmest wish to you. 
 A monarch compaaa'd by a suppliant crowd, 
 Prompt to obey, and in his praises loud, 
 Among those thousands who on smiles depend, 
 Perhaps has no disinterested friend. 
 
 WB.ITTEN AT LOVEEE, 1755. 
 
 Wisdom, slow product of laborious years. 
 The only fruit that life's cold winter bears ; 
 Thy sacred seeds in vain in youth we lay. 
 By the fierce storm of passion torn away. 
 
 Shoiild some remain in a rich gen'rous soil, 
 They long lie hid, and must be raia'd with toil ; 
 Eaintly they struggle with inclement skies, 
 No sooner bom than the poor planter dies. 
 
 LINES WRITTEN IN A BLANK PAQ-E OF MILTON'S 
 PAHADISE LOST.i 
 
 This happy pair a certain bliss might prove, 
 
 Confined to constancy and mutual love : 
 
 Heaven to one object limited their vows. 
 
 The only safety faithless Nature knows. 
 
 God saw the wand'ring appetite would range. 
 
 And would have kept them from the power to change ; 
 
 But falsehood, soon as man increased, began ; 
 
 Down through the race the swift contagion ran, 
 
 All ranks are tainted, all deceitful prove. 
 
 False in all shapes, but doubly false in love. 
 
 This makes the censure of the world more just, 
 
 That damns with shame the weakness of a trust ! 
 
 ' It appears from the Strawberry Hill Catalogue, that " in the Glass Closet " 
 ■was a copy of " Milton's Paradise Lost, given by the Duke of Wharton to Lady 
 Mary Wortley Montagu, who has written verses in the first leaf." — T. 
 
504 POEMS. 
 
 Ere change began, our sex no scandal knew, 
 All nymphs were chaste as long as swaina were true ; 
 But now, tho' by the subtlest art betray'd, 
 We're so by cuBtom and false maxims sway'd 
 That infamy still brands the injured maid. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO , 1736.> 
 
 With toilsome steps I pass thro' life's dull road 
 (No pack-horse half so tired of his load) ; 
 And when this dirty journey will conclude, 
 To what new realms is then my way pursued ? 
 Say, then does the unbodied spirit fly 
 To happier climes and to a better sky ? 
 Or, sinking, mixes with its kindred clay, 
 And sleeps a whole eternity away ? 
 Or shall this form be once again renewed, 
 With all its frailties, all its hopes, endued ; 
 Acting once more on this detested stage 
 Passions of youth, infirmities of age ? 
 
 I see in Tully what the ancients thought, 
 And read unprejudiced what moderns tauglit ; 
 But no conviction from my reading springs — 
 Most dubious on the most important things. 
 Tet one short moment would at once explain 
 What all philosophy has sought in vain ; 
 Would clear aU doubt, and terminate all pain. 
 Why then not hasten that decisive hour ; 
 StiU in my view, and ever in miy power ? 
 Why should I drag along this life I hate. 
 Without one thought to mitigate the weight ? 
 Whence this mysterious bearing to exist. 
 When every joy is lost, and every hope dismissed ? 
 In chains and darkness wherefore should I stay. 
 And mourn in prison whilst I keep the key ? 
 
 ■ Sent by the Countess of Pomfret to the Countess of Hertford, Nov. 2, N.S., 
 1740. — See Hertford and Pomfret Correspondence^ ii. 63. Lady Pomfret says : 
 " I shall conclude this letter with a philosophical reflection of Lady Mary's. She 
 says that no one has had a copy of it but myself, so pray do not let us make it 
 public." This poem is now for the first time abided to Lady Mary's "Works. — T. 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 A. 
 
 AnBE, or Abbot. .See Conti 
 
 Abergavenny, Lady, account of, ii. 
 118 n. 
 
 Abydos, siege and capture of, by the 
 Turks, i. 375 
 
 Account of Turkey, by Aaron Hill, 
 i. 360 
 
 Aohmet III., Grand Signior, mar- 
 riage of his eldest daughter, i. 292; 
 description of his passage to the 
 mosque, 294 ; personal appearance, 
 295 
 
 Bey, character of, 5.280 ; his con- 
 versation with Lady M. W. Mon- 
 tagu, 289 
 
 Adam, Mr. Robert, Lady Mary's opi- 
 nion of, ii. 312 ; her remarks on his 
 architecture, ib. 
 
 Addison, Mr., remarks on his being 
 appointed secretary of state, i. 338 ; 
 letter from, to Mr. Wortley, 359 n 
 
 , Miss, remarks respecting, i. 59 
 
 Addressed to • , a poem, ii. 499 
 
 Adoption, custom of, i. 364 
 
 Adrianople, Lady Mary's letters from, 
 i. 28X, 283, 287, 292, 296, 300, 307, 
 309, 313, 314, 320; her journey 
 from Belgrade to, 281 ; climate of, 
 283; description of Lady Mary's 
 residence there, 301; of the country 
 around, 302; of the Grand Vizier's 
 harem there, 3-15; of the liiykya's, 
 317; origin of the name of, 320; 
 account of the city of, ib.; descrip- 
 tion of the exchange, 321; number 
 of Jews in, ;A.; camp of, 322; pro- 
 cession on the Grand Signior's 
 taking the command of the army 
 in person, 323; mosque of Sultan 
 Selim I. in, 324; other mosques in, 
 326; seraglio, ib. 
 Advice, a poem, ii. 499 ; answer to, 500 
 VOL. II. 2 
 
 Alcoran, character of, i. 290 ; remarks 
 
 respecting, 371 
 Alexandria 'Troas, account of, i. 378 ; 
 
 inscriptions found at, ib. 
 A man in love, a poem, ii. 485 
 Amelia, Empress Dowager of Ger- 
 many, entertainment given by, i. 
 
 241 
 Amphitrion, comedy of, at Vienna, i. 
 
 238 
 Andrea Doria, privileges of the family 
 
 of, in Genoa, i. 386 
 Anne, Queen, death of, i. 122 
 Answer to a lady who advised Lady 
 
 Mary to retire, 11. 501 
 Answer to a love letter, a poem, ii. 
 
 459 
 Antin, Duke d', the French king's pic- 
 tures preserved by, i. 397 
 Antinous, statue of, in Florence, ii. 73 ; 
 
 in Rome, 80 
 Antiquaries in Turkey, i. 330 
 Antiquities of Turkey — Trajan's Gate, 
 
 i. 291 ; at Constantinople, 356 
 Aqueduct, remains of one near Tnnis, 
 
 j. 381 ; ruins of a Roman aqueduct 
 
 at Lyons, 393 
 Arabian poetry, character of, i. 280 
 Arbuthnot, Dr., letters to, ii. 1 7, 20 
 Arcadian column, in Constantinople, 
 
 destroyed by an earthquake, i. 
 
 358 n. 
 Archer, Mr., account of his accident, 
 
 ii. 318 
 Archipelago, Lady Mary's voyage in 
 
 the, i. 379 
 Arcie, Mrs. d', ii. 79 
 Ardinghi, Signer Aurelio, ii. 264 
 
 , Signora Diana, i). 263 
 
 Armenians, Lady Mary's account of, 
 
 i. 365 ; strictness of their religion, 
 
 ib. ; their marriage ceremony, 366 
 ArnaButs, religion of the, i. 290 
 L 
 
506 
 
 GENEEAL INDEX. 
 
 Arran, Lord, remarks respecting, ii. 
 145 n., 148 
 
 A Short View of the immorality 
 and profaneness of the English 
 Stage, by Jeremy Collier, i. 239 n. 
 
 Assemblies — at Vienna, i. 248; in 
 London, in 1723, 503 ; in Avignon, 
 ii. 112 ! in Lovere, 233 
 
 Astell, Mistress Mary, character of, 
 i. 84 ; her partiality for Lady Mary, 
 85 ; her tracts, ih. ; her promise to 
 Lady Mary, 86 ; her Ode to Friend- 
 ship, 87 
 
 Atalantis, the New, i. 146 
 
 Atlerdan, or place of horses, in Con- 
 stantinople, description of, i. 356 
 
 Austria, Empress of. Lady Mary's 
 description of, i. 240; her grief for 
 the death of her son, 260 
 
 Authors, remarks on the fate of, i. 
 146 
 
 Avignon, letters from, ii. 110-147; as- 
 semblies in, 112 ; nobility in, 125 ; 
 description of the town, 126; re- 
 fugees in, 1 52 
 
 B. 
 
 Bagnio. See Baths 
 
 Baily [Baillie], Mr., dismissed from 
 the Treasury, i. 487 
 
 Baillie, Griselda, his daughter. See 
 Murray 
 
 Ballad, a, ii. 486 
 
 Ballad on a late occurrence, ii. 496 
 
 Balm of Mecca, Lady Mary's opinion 
 of, i. 334 
 
 Bassette-table, the, ii. 440 
 
 Bath lampoons, i. 147 
 
 Baths, description of, in tlie town of 
 Sophia, i. 284 ; Lady Mary invited 
 to the, 286; reception of a Turk- 
 ish bride in, 361 ; account of the 
 Grand Vizier's, at Calcedonia, 
 369 
 
 Bathurst, Allen first Earl, i. 484; his 
 attentions to Mrs. Howard, 489 and 
 n., 491 
 
 Bathurst, Lady Selina, ii. 325 
 
 Beard, the opera- singer, ii. 34 n, 
 
 Beauclerk, Lord Sidney, i. 504 re. 
 
 Beaufort, the Marquis of, ii. 136 
 
 Bedchamber. See Schoolmaster 
 
 Bedford, Wriothesley Kussell, third 
 Duke of that family, i. 489 
 
 Belgrade, letters from, i. 276, 331, 
 336; Lady Mary's account of the 
 town of, 278 ; taken by the Im- 
 perialists, 336 
 
 Belloni, Mr., a banker, ii. 81 
 
 Benedict XIV., Pope (Cardinal Lam- 
 bertini), his character, ii. 81; his 
 death, 328 
 
 Bentinck, Lady Belle, married to the 
 Duke of Kingston, i. 78. See 
 Kingston, Duchess of 
 
 Lady Elizabeth, married to Tho- 
 mas Viscount Weymouth, ii. 355 
 
 Bentivoglio, Marchioness Lyscinnia, 
 account of, ii. 294 
 
 Berkeley, Augustus fourth Earl of, 
 notice of his death, ii. 282 n. 
 
 Bernstoff, Mr., character of, i. 125 ; 
 dissuades the Countess of Platen 
 from accompanying George I. to 
 England, 131 
 
 Biddy Tipkin, i. 180 
 
 Bill, project of, to have " not" taken 
 out of the Commandments, i. 473 
 
 Blankenburg, letter from, i. 261 
 
 Duchess of, her attention to 
 
 Lady Mary, i. 261 
 
 Blount, Lady, ii. 375 
 
 Bohemia, condition of, i. 253 
 
 Boileau, Monsieur, observation of, i. 
 305 
 
 Bolingbroke, Henry St. John, first 
 Viscount, Lady Mary's opinion of, 
 ii. 256; her remarks on his charac- 
 ter, 257, 268 ; his partiality for ob- 
 scurity, 365 ; epistle to, a poem, 
 474 
 
 Bolton, Charles Paulet, third Duke of, 
 ii. 268; his death, 269 
 
 Duchesses of, ii. 268, 269 
 
 Bonnac, Madame de, account of, i. 
 294 re. 
 
 Bonneval, Count, i. 266 
 
 Bono, Signora Laura, story of, ii. 
 188 
 
 Bononcini, Italian composer, i. 459 n. 
 
 Borromean library at Milan, ii. 46 
 
 Bosville, Mrs., her journey to Turin, 
 ii. 120 
 
 Bouthillier de Kanc^, story of, ii. 71 
 
 Bowes, Mrs., poem on the death of, ii. 
 485 
 
 Boyle, Lady Charlotte, married to 
 Lord Hartington, ii. 1 60 
 
 Braithwayte, Mrs., her marriage with 
 Mr. Coleman, i. 154 
 
 Brand, Thomas, his marriage with 
 Lady Carolina Pierrepont, ii. 236 n. 
 
 Brescia, letters from, ii. 148-152, 
 155-157 
 
 Bride in the Country, the, ii. 488, 490 
 
 Bridgeman, Mrs., anecdote of, ii. 36 
 
GENERAL INDEX, 
 
 507 
 
 Bristol, Elizabeth Hervey, Countess 
 of, letters to, from Lady Mary, 
 i. 230, 258, 292, 353; her quarrel 
 with Lady Hervey, 481 
 
 Bromley, Mrs., ii. 32 
 
 Brownlowe, Miss Nelly, her misfor- 
 tune, i. 152 
 
 Brudenell, Lord John, his ill health, 
 ii. 371; his character, 375 
 
 Brunswick, letter from, i. 257 
 
 Buda, description of the town of, i. 
 272 
 
 Buffaloes, description of, i. 310 
 
 Building, follies of, ii. 358 
 
 Bulgarian peasants, i. 292 
 
 Burlington, Lady, her inscription ou 
 the portrait of her daughter, ii. 
 137 n. 
 
 Epistle to the Earl of, ii. 462 
 
 and n. 
 
 Burnet, Dr. Gilbert, Lord Bishop of 
 Salisbury, assists Lady Mary in 
 her studies, i. 34; her letter to, ii. 
 2 ; contrast between, and Dean 
 Swift, 325 
 
 Burning Mountain near Tirenzuola, 
 account of, ii. 72 
 
 Burying-flelds, in Turkey, i. 328 
 
 Bute, John Stuart first Marquis of, 
 his intimacy with Prince Frederick 
 and the Princess of "Wales, ii. 169; 
 his influence with Prince George, 
 301 ; remarks on his economy, 320 
 
 Countess of, notice of her birth, 
 
 i. 342 ; destroys Lady Mary's jour- 
 nal, i. 63; her arguments respect- 
 ing it, 64; her intimacy with Lady 
 Hervey, 9,6; letters to, ii. 156, 157, 
 163, 165,*169, 170, 174, 180, 194, 
 197, 201, 203, 205, 208, 212, 214, 
 216, 220, 223, 224, 229, 231, 233, 
 2S4, 236, 239, 240, 244, 245, 247, 
 248, 256, 259, 262, 269, 271, 273, 
 274, 277, 279, 282, 285, 292, 293, 
 296, 298, 299, 301, 302, 305, 306, 
 307, 310, 311, 312, 314, 31,5, 316, 
 317, 321, 323, 324, 327, 329, 335, 
 838, 339, 343, 345, 351, 352, 354, 
 357, 359, 367, 368, 369, 371, 372, 
 374, 378, 379, 381; her intimacy 
 with Prince Frederick and the 
 Princess of Wales, 169; with Mrs. 
 Anne Pitt, 239 
 
 Butter, unknown in Turkey, i. 302 ; 
 introduced in Lovere by Lady 
 Mary, ii. 245 
 
 Byng, Lady, inoculates her children, 
 i. 468 
 
 2 L 
 
 Cabinet of jewels, medals, and an- 
 tiques ia Vienna, i. 251 n. 
 
 Calcedonia, mistake respecting, i.368; 
 description of the Grand Vizier's 
 house there, ib. 
 
 Calthorpe, Hon. Miss, letter to, ii. 10 
 and n. 
 
 Camels, description of, i. 309 
 
 Campbell, Mr. Daniel, his influence 
 with Sir Robert Walpole, i. 118 
 
 Lady Betty, notice of her mar- 
 riage with Mr. James Stuart Mac- 
 kenzie, ii. 181 n. 
 
 Cantacuzena, a Greek, ii. 61 
 
 Cantillon, Madame, i. -168; ii. 86 
 
 Cape Janizary, the ancient promon- 
 tory of Sigseum, city at, i. 376; an- 
 tiquities in, ib. ; inhabitants of, ib. 
 
 Carabosse, a tale, ii. 419 
 
 Carleton, Henry Boyle first Lord, his 
 death, i. 485 and n. 
 
 Carlisle, Henry Howard seventh Earl, 
 ii. 44, 343 
 
 Carlowitz, field of battle of, i. 277 
 
 Carmichael, Lord, his marriage, i. 488 
 and n. 
 
 Carnival at Brescia, ii. 152, 160; at 
 Venice, 341 
 
 Carteret, John first Viscount, after- 
 wards Earl of Granville, ii. 130 ; mar- 
 ried to Lady Sophia Fermor, 101, 
 134 
 
 Lady Frances, ii. 108 
 
 Carthage, ruins of, i. 383 
 
 Cayley, Captain, shot by Mr. Macfar- 
 lane, i. 420 n. 
 
 Caylus, Count, character of, i. 464 
 
 Cecisbei, description of, i. 385 
 
 Cenis, Mount, ascent of, i. 390 
 
 Chambery, letters from, ii. 98-100; 
 description of the town of, 98; in- 
 habitants, 99 
 
 Character, a, ii. 458 
 
 Chechina, a servant-maid, ii. 186 
 
 Chesterfield, Philip Dormer Stanhope 
 fourth Earl, genealogical notice of, 
 ii. 117; his Apology for a late 
 Eesignation, 177 and n. 
 
 Cheyne, Lady Gertude, i. 200, 494 
 
 Children, custom of adoption of, i. 364 
 
 Chiosks, description of the Turkish, 
 i. 313 
 
 Chiswell, Miss, an early friend of 
 Lady Mary's, i. 21 ; letter to, 228; 
 death of, 499 
 
 Chlo(5, Mr., a celebrated cook, ii. 25, 
 
 99 n. 
 2 
 
508 
 
 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Churchill, Colonel Charles, his mis- 
 sion to Paris, i. 462 n. 
 
 Circassian slaves, account of, i. 333 
 
 Clare, Lord, i. 478 n. 
 
 Clarendon, Lady, i. 485 
 
 Clarke, Dr., his intimacy -with Queen 
 Caroline and Lady Sundon, ii. 
 55 n. 
 
 Clarissa Harlowe, Lady Mary's opinion 
 of, ii.'222 
 
 Cleland John, his literary forgeries, 
 i. 15, 336 n. 
 
 Clement XIII., Pope (Cardinal Rez- 
 zonico), rejoicings in Padua on his 
 election to the Papal Chair, ii. 328; 
 remarks on his family, 333 
 
 Cleveland, Duchess of, verses respect- 
 ing, ii. 219; her death, ii. 112 
 
 Coke, Edward Lord Viscount, notice 
 of his marriage, ii. 1 53 n. 
 
 Lady Mary, ii. 153 n.; 182, 271 
 
 Coleman, Mr., his marriage with Mrs. 
 Braithwayte, i. 154 
 
 Collier, Jeremy, author of A Short 
 View of the Immorality and Pro- 
 faneness of the English Stage, i. 
 239 n. 
 
 Cologne, letter from, i. 229 ; descrip- 
 tion of the Jesuits' church in, 230 
 
 Comedies in Vienna, i. 238 
 
 Confinement of Turkish women, erro- 
 neous ideas of, i. 329, 371 
 
 Congreve, Mr., i. 402 
 
 Constantinople, letters from, i. 326 
 to 359 ; size of, 328 ; burying- 
 fields in, il. ; antiquaries in, 330 ; 
 great heat of the climate, 331; 
 fires in, 341; variety of languages 
 spoken in, 352 ; description of 
 the city, 353; the seraglio, 354; 
 the mosques in, ii.; antiquities in, 
 3.'i6; the exchanges, 357; dervises, 
 358; reception of a Turkish bride 
 in the baths of, 361 
 
 Conti, Abb^, letters to, i. 264, 287, 
 320, 326, 367, 370, 374, 400 
 
 Convent in Vienna. See St. Lawrence 
 
 Cook, Mr., his duel with J. Stapleton, 
 i. 481 
 
 Cornbury, Lord, his death, ii. 237 
 
 Coronation, remarks on George the 
 Second's, i. 513 
 
 Countess of , letter to the, ii. 70 
 
 Court of Dulness, the, ii. 471 
 
 Court of George I., Lady Mary's ac- 
 count of, i. 123 
 
 Cozelle, Countess of, account of, i. 
 255 
 
 Craggs, Mr. James, secretary of state, 
 anecdote of, i. 76 ; character of, 130 ; 
 his death, 46 1 ; letter from, ii. 9 
 
 Croix, Monsieur de la, translator of 
 the Persian Tales, i. 280 n. 
 
 Cunningham, Mr., his patriotic con- 
 duct, ii. 303 and n. 
 
 Cuzzoni, the opera singer, ii. 58 n. 
 
 v. 
 
 Dalkeith, Lady, remarks on her mar- 
 riage with Charles Townshend, ii. 
 292 
 
 Darlington, Countess of. See Platen 
 
 Dashwood, Sir Prancis, ji. 79; his 
 marriage, 157 
 
 Davenant, Mrs., i. 385 ; her intimacy 
 with Lady Mary, 468 
 
 D'Aunois, the countess, her novels, i. 
 264 
 
 Delawarr, Lady, ii. 345 
 
 Deloraine, Henry Scott Earl of, mar- 
 ried to jvtiss Howard, i. 475 
 
 Denbigh, Lady, her extraction and 
 gaiety, i. 491 n. 
 
 and Desmond, Countess Dowager 
 
 of, particulars respecting, i. 51 
 
 Dervises in Constantinople, account 
 of, i. 358 
 
 Dijon, number of English families in, 
 ii. 43 
 
 Diversions in Germany, i. 242, 260; 
 of children at Adrianople, 302; in 
 Lovere, ii. 154 
 
 Divorces in Turkey, i. 329 
 
 Dodington, George Bubb, his objec- 
 tions to Mr, Walpole's proposed 
 bill, i. 473 4 
 
 Dodsley, Mr., Lady Mary's verses 
 published by, ii. 346; errors in the 
 sixth volume of his Collection of 
 Poems, ib. n. 
 
 Doge of Genoa. See Genoa 
 
 Dorchester, Lord. See Kingston 
 
 Drawing-room at Vienna, i. 241 
 
 Dresden, description of the town and 
 inhabitants of, i. 257 
 
 Dresses at Vienna, i. 240, 248; dress 
 of the nuns in a convent there, 249 ; 
 dress of the ladies at Prague, 254 ; 
 of the Hungarian females, 275 ; 
 Turkish dress of Lady Mary, 297 ; 
 walking dress of the Turkish ladies, 
 299 ; description of Patima's, the 
 Kiyiya's lady, 318; of the Sultana 
 H&flten, 344 ; dresses in Lovere, 
 ii. 233 
 
 Drew, Sarah, story of, related by Pope, 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 509 
 
 i. 437; epitaphs to her memory, 
 403, 438 
 
 Drumlanrig, Earl of, his death, ii. 
 271 n. 
 
 Dulness, Court of, ii. 471 
 
 Dunch, Mrs. Arabella, her marriage 
 with Edward Thompson, Esq., i. 
 481; remarks respecting, ii. 298; 
 elegy on, 484 
 
 Duncombe, Colonel Anthony, created 
 Lord Eeversham, notice of his mar- 
 riage, ii. 335 ; his death, ib. n. 
 
 Durazzo, Signora Clelia, her intimacy 
 with Lady Mary, ii. 96 
 
 E. 
 
 Earle, Giles, his toast, ii. 384 
 
 Edgecombe, Mr., story respecting, i. 
 509 
 
 Education, remarlcs on, ii. 175, 215, 
 242 
 
 Effendi, explanation of the name, i. 
 288; account of this class of men, 
 ib.; their religion, 289, 372 
 
 Egerton, Lady Anne, her dispute with 
 the Duchess of Marlborough, i. 104 
 
 Elegy on Mrs. Thompson, ii. 484 
 
 Elizabeth, Queen of England, notice 
 of her Greek translations, ii. 344 
 
 Enchiridion of Epic te tus, Lady Mary 'a 
 translation of, ii. 391 
 
 Englefield, Sir Henry, his conversa- 
 tion with Lady Mary, ii. 63 
 
 English politics, remarks on, ii. 91 
 
 Epictetus. See Enchiridion 
 
 Epigram, ii. 501 
 
 Epilogues — to Mary Queen of Scots, 
 ii. 452 ; to the tragedy of Cato, 453 
 
 Epistles — to the Earl of Burlington, 
 ii. 462; from Pope to LordBoling- 
 broke, 474; from Arthur Grey the 
 footman to Mrs. Murray, 478; to 
 Lord Hervey on the king's birth- 
 day, 501 
 
 Epitaphs to the memory of John 
 Hewet and Sarah Drew, ii. 403, 
 438 
 
 Epithalamium, ii. 492 
 
 Essays— a Letter from the other 
 world to a Lady, from her former 
 husband, ii. 413 ; on a paper called 
 the Nonsense of Common Sense, 
 414; Carabosse, 419; on a maxim 
 of Rochefoucault, 421 
 
 Essek, account of the town of, i. 274 
 
 Etna, Mount, i. 381 
 
 Eugene, Prince, his liberality to 
 Rousseau,!, 265; his library, 266; 
 
 notice of his victory over the Turks 
 at Carlowitz, 277 
 Euston, Augustus Earl of, his mar- 
 riage, ii. 282 
 
 George, Earl of, his character, 
 
 ii. 137 
 
 Lady Dorothy, her death, ii. 
 
 137; inscription to her memory, ib. 
 
 Evans, Sir Stephen, notice of his sui- 
 cide, i. 154 
 
 Exchanges in Constantinople, de- 
 scription of, i. 357 
 
 Fatima, the Kiyaya's lady, visited by 
 Lady Mary in her harem, i. 317; 
 her beauty, ib.; dress, 318; agree- 
 able manners, 319; conversation 
 with Lady Mary, 348 
 
 Faustina, an opera singer, ii. 58 n. 
 
 Fenton, Lavinia, afterwards Duchess 
 of Bolton, i. 268, 269 n. 
 
 Termor, Lady Sophia, afterwards 
 Lady Carteret, her beauty, ii. 101; 
 epigram respecting her, ib. ; her 
 marriage, ib. n. 
 
 Ferrers, Lawrence, fourth Earl, no- 
 tice of his marriage with Mary 
 Meredith, ii. 240 
 
 Lady Anne, account of, ii. 240 
 
 Feversham, Lord. See Duncombe. 
 
 Fielding, Lord, ii. 45 
 
 Henry, his attachment to his 
 
 wife, i. 105: remarks on his se- 
 cond marriage, 106; on his writ- 
 ings, ib. ; Roderick Random, ii. 222 ; 
 Lady Montagu's opinion of, 282; 
 notice of his death, ib. ; compa- 
 rison between him and Sir Richard 
 Steele, 283 
 
 Sally, remarks on her works, 
 
 ii. 282 
 
 Lady Frances, character of, i. 
 
 504 
 
 Mr. "William, assists Lady Mary 
 
 in her studies, i. 54; death of, 472 
 
 Fierenzuola, volcanoes near, descrip- 
 tion of, ii. 72 
 
 Finch, Lady Belle, Lady Mary's 
 opinion of, ii. 221 
 
 Lady Betty, remarks on her 
 
 marriage with Mr. Murray, ii. 27 
 
 Lord, his tragical end, ii. 463 
 
 Fires, frequency of, in Turkey, i. 341 
 Fitzroy, Lady Grace, i. 505 
 Fitzwilliam, Lord, visits Lady Mary 
 at Venice, ii. 59 
 
510 
 
 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Florence, magnificence of the public 
 
 buildings of, ii. 73 
 Fontainebleau, description of, i. 395 
 Fordwich, George Nassau Clayering 
 
 Cowper, Lord, visits Padua, ii. 360 
 Forster, Mrs., letter to, ii. 123 
 Fragment to * * * *, ii. 456 
 France, remarks respecting the inha- 
 bitants of, i. 399 
 
 King of, his marriage, i. 489 
 
 Freemasons, society of, at Nismes, 
 
 entertainment given by, to the 
 
 Duke of Richelieu, i. 126 
 French ambassadress in Turkey, i. 
 
 295, 341, 394 
 ladies, Lady Mary's opinion of, 
 
 i. 396 
 Friend on his travels, to a, a poem, ii. 
 
 454 
 Fromenta, ii. 386 n. 
 Furnese, Miss, anecdote of, i. 98 
 
 G. 
 
 Gage, Thomas, first Lord, i. 469 
 
 Lady, account of her separation 
 
 from her husband, i. 470 
 
 Gainsborough, Lady, account of, i. 
 485 and n. 
 
 Galland, Monsieur, his translation of 
 the Arabian Nights, i. 280 
 
 Garth, Dr., his alleged foot-match 
 with the Duke of Grafton, i. 146 
 
 Gay, Mr., verses addressed to, i. 462 
 
 Gemelli, Mr., his mistake respecting 
 Caloedonia, i. 368 
 
 Geneva, letters from, ii. 97; inhabi- 
 tants of, ih. ; their simplicity, ih. 
 
 Genoa, letters from, i. 84, 92, 94 ; de- 
 scription of, 385 ; inhabitants of, 
 ih. ; government of, 386 ; public 
 buildings, 387; divorces in, ii. 213 
 
 Doge of, compelled to ask par- 
 don of the King of France, ii. 335 
 
 George I., King of England, compari- 
 sons respecting his court, i. 75; 
 anecdote of, 76 ; Lady Mary's ac- 
 count of the court at his accession, 
 123; character of, 126; his inter- 
 view with the Countess of Platen, 
 129; his resentment to the Prince 
 of Wales, 134; accountof the state 
 of party at his accession, 135 
 
 IL, remarks on his coronation, 
 
 i, 513; notice of his death, ii. 379 
 
 III., reflections on his acces- 
 sion, ii. 382 ; purchases Mr. Joseph 
 Smith's collection of paintings and 
 gems, ii. 319 n. 
 
 German courts, remarks on the cus- 
 tom of keeping dwarfs in, i. 258 
 Golden Asses, the, ii. 327 
 Goldsworthy, Mrs., remarks on her 
 
 conduct, ii. 96 and n., 118 
 Gottolengo, inscription at, ii 178 
 Gower, Dowager Lady, death of, i. 464 
 
 Lady, death of, ii. 323 
 
 Hon. Evelyn Leveson, notice ot 
 
 her birth, i. 481 ; married to Lord 
 
 Gowran, ii. 136 
 Hon. Frances, her marriage, ii. 
 
 129 n. 
 Hon. Jane Leveson, notice of her 
 
 death, i. 502 n. 
 Grafton, Augustus Henry, third Duke 
 
 of, joke of his foot-race with Dr. 
 
 Garth, i. 146; his marriage with 
 
 Miss Liddel, ii. 282 n. 
 Graham, General, notice of his ill- 
 health, ii. 316 
 Granby, Marquis of, ii. 385 
 Grand Vizier, description of his house 
 
 in Calcedonia, i. 368 
 Grange, Lord, his attempt to obtain 
 
 the charge of Lady Mar, i. 39 
 Grant, Abbe, character of, ii. 235 
 Granville, Earl. See, Carteret 
 Gray, Sir J., his residence in Venice, 
 
 ii. 155 
 Greville, Mr., remarks on his Maxims 
 
 and Characters, ii. 312 
 Grey, Arthur, the footman, epistle 
 
 from, ii. 478 
 Grimani, afterwards Doge of Venice, 
 
 ii. 47 n. 
 Guastalla.Duchess, visits Lady Mary, 
 
 ii. 173 
 
 H. 
 
 Hafit^n, Sultana, visited by Lady 
 Mary, i. 315 ; character of, ih. ; ac- 
 count of, 343 ; her reception of 
 Lady Mary, 344 ; description of 
 her dress, ih. ; refutes the story of 
 throwing the handkerchief, 345 ; 
 herafFection for the deceased Sultan, 
 346 ; number of her slaves, 347 
 
 Hague, letter from, i. 227 ; account 
 of, ih. 
 
 Halifax, George Montagu fourth earl 
 of, his death, ii. 40 
 
 Hamilton, Miss, married to Earl 
 Brooke, ii. 113 n. 
 
 Lord William, song on his mar- 
 riage, ii. 345, 477 
 
 Hanmer, Sir T., Lady Mary's re- 
 marks respecting, i. 218 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 511 
 
 Hanns and monasteries at Constanti- 
 nople, account of, i. 358 
 
 Hanover, letters from, i. 258, 259 ; re- 
 marks respecting the town of, 258 ; 
 inhabitants of, 259 ; diversions in, 
 260; perfection of the orangeries 
 in, 262 
 
 Harems, description of the Turkish, i. 
 311 ; translation of the word harem, 
 316 ; splendour of the harem of the 
 Kiyiya, 317; dances in, 319 
 
 Hartington, Lord, married to Lady 
 Charlotte Boyle, 160 n. 
 
 Hay, Mrs., the mistress of the Pre- 
 tender, ii. 89 n. ; her conduct to 
 Lady Mary, 129 
 
 Hecuba, her burial-place, i. 376 
 
 Heideker [Heydegger], Mr., masque- 
 rades instituted by, i. 428 
 
 Henley, Anthony, character of, ii. 
 32 n. 
 
 Herbert, Lady Harriet, account of her 
 marriage, ii. 34 n. 
 
 Herculaneura, discovery of the city 
 of, ii. 84 
 
 Hernhausen, gardens of, i. 2G1 
 
 Hertford, Lady, to Lord William 
 Hamilton, a poem, ii. 477 
 
 Hervey, Lord, his intimacy with 
 Lady Mary, i. 94 ; anecdote related 
 of him, 95 ; his visits to Lady Mary, 
 457 ; notice of his marriage with 
 Miss LepeU, ib. n.; Lord Hervey 
 to Mr. Fox, a poem, ii. 460 ; con- 
 tinuation to the same, 461 
 
 ' George, afterwards fifth Earl of 
 
 Bristol, returns Lady Mary's cor- 
 respondence with Lord Hervey to 
 her, i. 95 
 
 Lady, character of, i. 96 ; her 
 
 intimacy with Lady Bute, ib. ; her 
 praises of Mrs. Murray, 97 ; her 
 quarrel with Lady Bristol, 481; 
 her intimacy with the Duchess of 
 Manchester, ii. 29 
 
 Hewet, John, story of, related by 
 Pope, i. 437 ; epitaphs to his me- 
 mory, 403, 438 . 
 
 T., account of, i. 142 re. 
 
 Mrs. (afterwards Lady ), account 
 
 of, i. 142 ; letters to, ib. 
 
 Heydegger, and masquerades, i. 495 
 
 HiU, Mr. Aaron, author of the Ac- 
 count of Turkey, and the tragedies 
 of Zara and Merope, i. 360 n. 
 
 Hillsborough, Wills HiU first Earl of, 
 i. 470 n. 
 
 Hinchinbroke, Lady, appointed one 
 
 of the ladies of the bedchamber to 
 the Princess of Wales, i. 213 
 
 Holdemesse, Lady, her attachment to 
 Mr. Mildmay, i. 475 ; married to 
 him, ib. n. ; allusions to her, ii. 10 
 
 Holies, Henrietta Cavendish. See 
 Oxford 
 
 Holt, Mr., his marriage with Lady J. 
 Wharton, i, 459 
 
 Homer, many passages in, illustrated 
 by a knowledge of Turkish cus- 
 toms, i. 302 ; correctness of his geo- 
 graphy, 378 
 
 Horace, imitations of, ii. 480, 481, 
 493 
 
 Horses, Turkish, i. 310 
 
 Houses in Vienna, i. 235; in Turkey, 
 311 
 
 Howard, Miss, married to the Earl of 
 Deloraine, i. 475, n. 
 
 Howe, Lady, i. 482 re. 
 
 Hungary, inhabitants of, remarks re- 
 specting, i. 274 
 
 Hussey, Mr., his marriage with tlie 
 Duchess of Manchester, ii. 159 n. 
 
 Hymn to the Moon, ii. 487 
 
 L 
 
 Ibrahim Pasha, verses by, i. 304 
 
 Ida, Mount, j. 376 
 
 Impromptu to a young lady singing, 
 
 ii. 499 
 Ingham, the Eev. Benjamin, his mar- 
 riage with Lady Margaret Hastings, 
 ii. 88 and re. 
 Ingrafting, See Inoculation 
 Inoculation, introduced into England 
 by Lady Mary from the Turkish 
 practice of ingrafting, i. 88, 91 ; de- 
 scription of, 308 
 Inscriptions — on the obelisk in the 
 Atlerdan, or Place of Horses at 
 Constantinople, i. 356 ; on a stone 
 at the ancient Sigaeum, 376; found 
 at Alexandria Troas, 378 ; on the 
 tables of brass on the town-house 
 of Lyons, 391 
 Intrigues, facility of, in Turkey, i. 
 
 299 
 Introductory Anecdotes, i. 49 
 Ionian antiquities, published by the 
 DUettanti Society, engraving of 
 marbles in, i. 376. n. 
 Irregular Verses to Truth, ii. 430 
 Irwin, Lord, his character, i. 483 
 
 Lady, remarks on, ii. 328 
 
 Italian government, remarks respect- 
 ing, ii. 213 
 
512 
 
 GENERAL TNDEX. 
 
 Italian manners, ii. 62, 213 
 
 vineyards, description of, ii. 166 
 
 Italians, their taste for comedy, ii. 
 164 
 
 Janissaries, character of, i. 295; their 
 
 unlimited power, 296 
 Jerras, Charles, a celebrated portrait 
 
 painter, i. 285 
 Jews, privileges and influence of, in 
 
 Turkey, i. 32] 
 
 J , Dr., his death, ii. 366 
 
 John, Duke of Marlborough, ii. 458 
 Johnson, Dr., passage in his Life of 
 
 Pope, i. 93 
 Joseph Andrews, remark on, ii. 186 
 Jupiter, colossean statue of, in the 
 
 gardens of Versailles, i. 400 
 Julia to Ovid, a poem, ii. 429 
 Justice, Mrs. Anne, letter to, ii. 5 
 
 K. 
 
 Kendal, Duchess of (Mademoiselle de 
 Schulenberg), i. 75 ; character of, 
 127; her arrival in England, 132 
 
 Key, Ladies of the, i. 242 
 
 Kilmansegg, Madame, accompanies 
 George I. to England,!. 127; cha- 
 racter of, ib. ; her intimacy with 
 Mr. Methuen, 120 
 
 Kingston, Henry Pierrepont second 
 Earl of, created Marquis of Dor- 
 chester, i. 51 
 
 Evelyn fifth Earl of, created 
 
 Marquis of Dorchester and Duke of 
 Kingston, i. 3, 51 ; his character, 
 5 ; opposes his daughter's marriage 
 with Mr. Edward Woitley, 8, 62 ; 
 married to Lady Belle Bentinck, 78 ; 
 his death, 79, 494 
 
 Duchess (Lady Belle Ben- 
 tinck), her marriage, i. 78 ; her con- 
 duct on the death of the Duke, 494 
 
 Lord, son of the Duke of Kings- 
 ton, his death, i. 67 
 Lady, vrife of the preceding, her 
 
 attachment to Lord Scarborough, 
 
 ii. 61 n. 
 Kiskoi, village of, account of, i. 292 
 KnatchbuU, Sir Wyndham, remarks 
 
 respecting, ii. 326; character of, 
 
 355 
 Kneller, Sir Godfrey, sale of pictures 
 
 by, i. 497 n. 
 Kujuk Checkmedji, or Little Bridge, 
 
 i. 327 
 
 Ladies— of Vienna, i. 240 ; of Saxony, 
 255; of Hanover, 260 ; of Hungary, 
 275 ; of Turkey, 298 j of France, 
 396; story of a Spanish lady, 363; 
 of London, ii. 233 ; influence of 
 ladies greater in republics than in 
 monarchical counties, 344 
 
 Lady , letters to, ii. 1, 6 
 
 Lady Hertford to Lord William 
 Hamilton, a poem, ii. 477; answer 
 to, ib. 
 
 Lady's Resolve, the, ii. 431 
 
 Lambertini, Cardinal. See Benedict 
 XIV. 
 
 Lansdowne, Lady, remarks respect- 
 ing, 1. 488 
 
 Latin inscriptions, taken by Lady 
 Mary, i. 356, 391, 392 
 
 La Trappe, monastery of, ii. 71 
 
 Law, Mr., respect paid to, by the Pa- 
 risian nobility, i. 398 
 
 Lechmere, Lady Elizabeth, her ex- 
 travagance, i. 491 ; her death, 492 n. 
 
 Leeds, Peregrine Osborn second Duke 
 of, his amour, i. 156 
 
 Leghorn, letter, from, ii. 88 
 
 Leicester, Thomas Coke nineteenth 
 Earl of, his death, ii. 35S 
 
 Leigh, Miss, story respecting, i. 509 
 
 Leipzig, description of the town of, i. 
 257 
 
 Leman, Sir William, his marriage 
 and death, ii. 101 
 
 Lempster, Lord, visits Lady Mary at 
 Turin, ii. 45 
 
 Leopold, Emperor, Lady Mary's re- 
 marks respecting, i. 272 
 
 Lepell, Mary, married to Lord Hervey, 
 i. 457 71. 
 
 Lethuillier, Mrs , comedies given by, 
 in Venice, ii. 61 
 
 Letter from the other World, ii. 413 
 
 Letter to a Friend, conclusion of, ii. 
 502 
 
 LevesoB, Hon. Jane, i. 502 
 
 Leveson, Miss F., married to Lord 
 John Sackville, ii. 129 
 
 Lidde), Miss, notice of her marriage 
 with the Duke of Grafton, ii. 282 n. 
 
 Lilly, Charles, one of the publishers 
 of the Tatler, ii. 446 n. 
 
 Lincoln, Henry Fiennes, nineteenth 
 Earl of, afterwards Duke of New- 
 castle, character of, ii. 101 ; his 
 marriage, ib. 
 
 Lines — to a Friend on his Travels, ii. 
 454 ; to Mr. , 457 ; to John, 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 513 
 
 Duke of Marlborough, 458 ; to Mr. 
 Fox, 460 ; on seeing a portrait of 
 Sir R. Walpole, 483 ; on the death 
 of Mrs. Bowes, 485 ; on a man in 
 lore, ib. ; written at Lovere, in 
 J736, 502j in 1755, 503; written in 
 a blank page of Milton's Paradise 
 Lost, ib. 
 
 Locke, Mr., his opinion of Dr. Syden- 
 ham, ii. 333 
 
 London, gaiety of, i. 483 ; ladies of, 
 remarks respecting, ii. 233 
 
 Lords, House of, singular scene at, ii. 
 38 
 
 Louis XIV., statues of, i. 393 
 
 XV., appearance of, i. 397 
 
 Lovere, letters from, ii. 153-229 ; 
 
 description of the town of, 153, 
 233; amusements in, 154; anti- 
 quities in, 196; story of an old 
 woman of, 211 ; town of, 250; 
 butter introduced in, by Lady Mary, 
 245 
 
 written at, poems, in 1736, ii. 
 
 502; in 1755, 503 
 
 Love-letter, translation of a Turkish, 
 i. 350 
 
 Lover, the, a ballad, ii. 482 
 
 Lowther, Sir William, his death, ii. 
 300 ; his legacies, ib. n, 
 
 Mrs., her quarrel with Lady 
 
 Mary, i. 466 ; anecdote of, ib. n. 
 
 Lumley, Lady Anne, her projected 
 marriage, ii. 36 
 
 Lutherans, follies of the, i. 232 
 
 Lyons, inscriptions on the town- 
 house of, i. 391 ; public buildings 
 in, 393 
 
 Lyttleton's, '.Lord, Advice to a Lady, 
 summary of, ii. 494 
 
 M. 
 
 Mackenzie, James Stuart, his opinion 
 of Lady Sophia Fermor, ii. 69 ; 
 notice of his letters to Lady Mary, 
 78; his marriage with Lady Betty 
 Campbell, 181 ; appointed ambas- 
 sador to Turin, 323 
 
 Madrid, remarks on the court of, i. 
 265 
 
 Maffei, Marquis Scipione, his charac- 
 ter, ii. 277 ; his works, 279 n. 
 
 Mahometans, remarks on their reli- 
 gion, ii. 287; numerous sects of, i. 
 289 
 
 Mahony, Count, his marriage to Lady 
 Frances Clifford, ii. 86; his conver- 
 
 sation with Lady Mary on English 
 politics, 91 
 
 Maids of honour at the court of 
 Vienna, account of, i. 241 
 
 Mallet, David, reference to his ama- 
 tory lines, ii. 498 
 
 Malta, account of, i. 381 
 
 Man in Love, a, ii. 485 
 
 Manchester, William Montague, se- 
 cond Duke of, married to Lady 
 Isabella Montague, i. 465 
 
 Duchess of. Lady Isabella Mon- 
 tague, her intimacy with Lady 
 Hervey, ii. 29; anecdote of, 60 n.; 
 married to Mr. Hussey, 159; lines 
 respecting, ib. n. 
 
 Mandeville, George Viscount, attends 
 the balls at Venice, ii. 317 
 
 Manners, Lady B., her proposed mar- 
 riage with Mr. Monckton, i. 467 
 
 Mansfield, Lord, allusion to, ii. 378 
 
 Mantua, Duke of, his palace at Ma- 
 derna, ii. 199 
 
 Mar, John Erskine Earl of, his mar- 
 riage with Lady Frances Pierre- 
 pont, i. 52, 67 ; his death, 261 
 
 Countess (Lady Frances Pierre- 
 
 pont), letters to, from her sister, 
 Lady Mary, i. 225, 234, 239, 253, 
 254, 257, 261, 267, 270, 296, 314, 
 342, 384, 449-514 
 
 Marischal, George tenth Earl, ii. 341 
 
 Marlborough, John first Duke of, re- 
 instated in his generalship, i. 123; 
 his opinion of Sir Eobert Walpole, 
 126; his death, ii. 348; lines on, 
 457 
 
 Charles Duke of, his death, ii. 
 
 348 
 
 Henrietta, Duchess of, concerts 
 
 given by, i. 483 ; anecdote of, ii. 
 60 n. 
 
 Sarah, Duchess of, her attach- 
 ment to Lady Mary and Lady Bute, 
 i. 101; anecdote of, 102; her visit 
 to the Princess of Wales, 103 ; her 
 family disputes, ib.; her jokes re- 
 specting Sir Eobert Walpole, 126 ; 
 letter from, ii. 9, 20 
 
 Marriage, Lady Mary's account of a 
 singular one, i. 143; her answer to 
 La Bochefoucault's maxims on the 
 subject of, 421 
 
 Maxims and Characters, by Mr. Gre- 
 ville, ii. 312 
 
 Melinda's Complaint, ii. 490 
 
 Meredith, Mary, her marriage with 
 Earl Ferrers, ii. 240 n, 
 
514 
 
 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Mildmay, Benjamin, married to Lady 
 Holdernesse, 1. 475 
 
 Milsington, Lord, remarlts on his 
 marriage with Miss Noel, i. 481 
 
 Mocenigo, Cavalier Aatonio, ii. 329 ; 
 his generous offer to Lady Mary, 
 336 
 
 Mohatch, town of, i. 273 
 
 Mohun, Lady, her marriage, i. 429 
 
 Momus, his project ofTvindows in the 
 breast, i. 406 
 
 Montagu, Duchess of, i. 464 and «. 
 
 » Anne Wortley, See Wortley 
 
 Mr. Edward Wortley. -See 
 
 Wortley 
 
 Mr. Sidney Wortley, i 58 
 
 Lady Isahella, married to the 
 
 Duke of Manchester, i. 465. See 
 Manchester 
 
 Hon, John, Dean of Durham, 
 
 i. 58 
 
 Montagu, Lady Maett Wortley, 
 her birth, i. 3 ; error in the Wal- 
 poliana respecting, 50 ; parentage 
 of, 2, 51; her father, 3, 52; elected 
 a member of, and toasted at, 
 the Kit-cat club, 52; remarks on 
 her talents, 3, 53 ; assisted in her 
 studies by Mr. William Fielding 
 and Bishop Burnet, 54; her books, 
 55; her intimate companions, 57; 
 introduced to Mr. Edward Wortley, 
 4, 60 ; her correspondence with 
 him, 61 ; marriage, 11, 63 ; remarks 
 respecting her journal, 63, 65; her 
 opinion of Wharncliffe Lodge, 66 ; 
 grief at the death of her brother, 
 67 ; her facility of writing, 68 ; her 
 history of Dolly Walpole, ib. ; anec- 
 dote of herself in her journal, 76 
 refutation of the story respecting 
 her admittance into the seraglio, 
 SO; copies into her diary the letters 
 of Pope and Congreve to her during 
 her travels, 83; her gift to Mr. 
 Sowden, 14, 83 ; Mistress Mary 
 Astell's partiality for, 84; Ode to 
 Friendship addressed to, 87; re- 
 marks on her introduction of in- 
 oculation, 88 ; on the clamours 
 against it, ib. ; her acquaintance and 
 quarrel with Pope, 21-33, 92; pas- 
 sage in the Life of Pope respect- 
 ing her, 93 ; her attachment to 
 Lady Oxford, ih. ; intimacy with 
 Lord Herv^y, 94 ; her dispute with 
 Lady Hervey and Mrs. Murray, 96; 
 unjust imputations respecting her. 
 
 33-44,98; observations on her cha- 
 racter, 99; anecdote of, 100; her 
 regard for Henry Fielding, 105 ; 
 comparison between her and Ma- 
 dame de S^vigne, 109 ; her fa- 
 vourite authors, 110; notice of her 
 son's vicious propensities, 11 1 ; re- 
 marks on her residence abroad, 
 112, 114 ; her opinion of Lady Pom- 
 fret, 115 ; her account of the death 
 of Queen Anne, 122; of the Court 
 of George L at his succession, 117; 
 her letters to Mrs. Hemet, 142-156; 
 correspondence with Mrs. Anne 
 Wortley and Mr. Wortley Montagu 
 previous to the year 1717, 157-220; 
 her illness and recovery, 158 ; study 
 of dictionaries and grammars, 161; 
 remarks on friendship and love, 
 172; making settlements, 177; in- 
 terview with her father, 186 ; her 
 fortune, 190; plans for an elope- 
 ment, 190 ; lessons of economy, 
 199 ; remarks on the Bishop of 
 Salisbury's letter, 202 ; her ill- 
 ness, 203 ; her uneasiness respect- 
 ing her son's indisposition,. 205 ; 
 her account of George the First's 
 proclamation in York, 209 ; her re- 
 marks respecting Lord Pelham, 211; 
 respecting Sir T. Hanmer, 219 ; 
 preface to her letters during Mr, 
 Wortley Montagu's epbassy, 222; 
 description of the town and inha- 
 bitants of Rotterdam, 226 ; of the 
 travelling in Holland, 227 ; her 
 comparison between the towns of 
 Nimeguen and Nottingham, 228 ; 
 arrives at Cologne, 229; descrip- 
 tion of the Jesuits' church in, it.; 
 comparison between free towns and 
 those under the government of ab- 
 solute princes, 231 ; remarks on 
 the sumptuary laws in Nuremberg, 
 ii. ; on the follies of the Roman 
 Catholicreligion, 232; on the society 
 in Eatisbon, 233 ; arrives at Vienna, 
 234; description of that city, 235; 
 visits Count Schonbrunn, 236; let- 
 ter to, from Pope, 237; description 
 of the opera at Vienna, ib. ; of a 
 German comedy, 238 ; presented at 
 court, 239 ; description of the Em- 
 press of Austria, 240; visits the 
 Dowager Empress Amelia, 242 ; re- 
 marks on the singular customs in 
 Vienna, 244, 247, 248; description 
 of the convents in, 249 ; of the Im- 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 515 
 
 perial cabinet, 251 ; remarks on the 
 town of Prague, 253 ; description 
 of thetown of Dresden, 255; account 
 of the Countess of Cozelle, 256; de- 
 scription of Leipzig, 257 ; notice of 
 her conversation with Prince Fre- 
 derick (afterwards Prince of Wales), 
 258; her remarks on the ladies of 
 Hanover, 260; her attachment to 
 the Empress of Austria, ib. ; visits 
 the Duchess of Blankenburg, 261; 
 description of Hanover, ii. ; of the 
 climate of Vienna, 263; takes leave 
 of the Empress of Austria, 267 ; 
 dwarfs, 268; her regret on leaving 
 Vienna, 269; character of the Prince 
 of Portugal, ib. ; letter to Pope, 270 ; 
 arrivesatPeterwaradiujiJ. ; descrip- 
 tion of the town of Eaab, 27 1 ; re- 
 marks on the Emperor Leopold, 
 272; account of the city of Buda, 
 ib. ; of the inhabitants of Hungary, 
 274; description of the town of 
 Essek, ib. ; remarks on the Hun- 
 garian ladies, 275 ; letter to Pope, 
 276; account of the town of Bel- 
 grade, 278; Aohmet Bey, 280; de- 
 scribes her journey to Adrianople 
 to the Princess of Wales, 281 ; op- 
 pression of the inhabitants of Ser- 
 via, 282 ; description of the baths in 
 Sophia, 284 ; veracity of her state- 
 ments questioned, 287 n. ; remarks 
 on the extortions in Servia, 288 ; 
 teeth-money, ib.\ her conversation 
 with Achmet Bey, 289; her re- 
 marks on religion, 290 ; on the go- 
 vernment of Turkey, 293; her opi- 
 nion of the Grand Signior, 294 of 
 the French ambassadress, ib.; ob- 
 servations on the Janissaries, 295; 
 description of her Turkish dress, 
 297; her opinion of the beauty of 
 the Turkish ladies, 298 ; of their 
 freedom, 299 ; letter to Pope, 300 ; ac- 
 count of Turkish amusements, 302 ; 
 customs, ib. ; of the language, 303 ; 
 her versification of some Turkish 
 poetry, 304; remarks on the plague, 
 307 ; her opinion of the practice of 
 ingrafting for the small-pox, 308; 
 description of the Turkish animals 
 and birds, 309, 310; of the Turkish 
 houses, 311; harems, ib.; chiosks, 
 313; public hanns, or inns, ib.\ 
 dines with the Grand Vizier's lady, 
 315; description of her entertain- 
 ment, 316 ; visits the Kiykya's 
 
 harem, 317; account of her recep- 
 tion, ib.; her opinion of Turkish 
 music, 319; account of Adrianople, 
 320; of the procession on the Grand 
 Siguier's taking the command of 
 the army in person, 323; of the 
 mosque of Sultan Selim I., 324; 
 her journey to Constantinople, 326 ; 
 of the burying-flelds in, 328; her 
 collection of Greek medals, 330; 
 letter to Pope, 331 ; account of the 
 Greek slaves, 333; opinion of the 
 Balm of Mecca, 334; news of the 
 capture of Belgrade, 336 ; contrast 
 of the Turkish and Greek women, 
 338; birth of her daughter, 342 
 visits the Sultana Hafit^n, 343 
 account of her reception, 344 
 visits Fatima, the KiyJiya's lady, 
 348; translation of a Turkish love- 
 letter, 350; different nations among 
 her servants, 352; description of 
 Constantinople, 353; the seraglio 
 and mosques in, 354 ; slaves, ib. ; 
 the Atterdan, 356; of the ex- 
 changes, 357 ; account of the der- 
 vises, 358 ; reception of a Turkish 
 bride in the baths of Constanti- 
 nople, 361; murder of a Turkish 
 female, 363 ; account of a Spanish 
 lady married to a Turk, ib.; her 
 opinion of adoption, 364 ; account 
 of the Armenians, ib. ; visits Cal- 
 cedonia, 368 ; describes the Grand 
 Vizier's house, ib. ; her journey from 
 Constantinople to Tunis, 374; de- 
 scription of Tunis, 381 ; of the 
 ruins of Carthage, 383 ; account of 
 Genoa, 385; of Cecisbei, 386; of 
 the public buildings in Genoa, 387 ; 
 description of Turin, 388 ; of her 
 journey from thence to Lyons, 389 ; 
 her opinion of French statues, 393; 
 her illness, 394 ; description of 
 Paris, 395 ; her opinion of the 
 French ladies, 396; of the king, 
 397 ; of Paris, 398 ; her dan- 
 gerous passage to Dover, 400 ; 
 letter to Pope, 402 ; her epitaph 
 to the memory of John Hewit 
 and Sarah Drew, 403; letters to, 
 from Pope, 404-448 ; her eyes re- 
 markable, 422 n. ; letters to the 
 Countess of Mar at Paris, 449-513. 
 Miscellaneous Correspondence : 
 Lady Mary's translation of Epic- 
 
 tetus, ii. 2 ; marriage of Mrs. D 
 
 with a curate, 6; the South Sea 
 
516 
 
 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 subscription list, 9 ; death of Lord 
 Sunderland, ib.; Lady Holdernesse 
 and Mr. Mildmay, 10 ; Lady Mary's 
 abilities, 1 1 ; the Wycombe election, 
 1 3 ; Bubb Dodington and theplayers, 
 ib.; company at Bath, 14; mode of 
 life at Twickenham, 15 ; quarrel 
 ■with Pope, 17, 20, 22. Letters to 
 the Countess of Pomfret and others : 
 English politics, 24 ; Mr. Chlo^, 25 ; 
 LordandLadyTownshend,27; Lady 
 Sundon, ib. and n.; Lady Hervey 
 and the Duchess of Manchester at 
 Bath, 29 ; the Wiltshire riots, 30; 
 Madame de Walmoden, ib. ; News 
 from the Island of Love, 32 ; Lady 
 Belle Finch, 33; Lady Anne Lum- 
 ley's marriage, 36 and n.; Lady 
 Vane, ib.; the House of Lords in- 
 vaded by the ladies, 38; death of 
 Lord Halifax, 39; Lady Mary's 
 departure from England, 40; ar- 
 rival at Calais, 41 ; improvement 
 in her health, 42 ; tlie English at 
 Dijon, 43; arrival at Turin, 44; 
 Lord Lempster and Lord Fielding, 
 45; arrival at Venice, 46; laws and 
 customs of Venice, 47 ; acquaint- 
 ances there, 49 ; amusements, ib. ; 
 engaged with antiquaries and vir- 
 tuosi, 51; changes in the customs 
 of Venice, 54 ; severity of the wea- 
 ther, 56; letters from her son, 57; 
 regatta at Venice, 59, 64; departure 
 from Venice, 70 ; monastery of La 
 Trappe, 71 ; visit to the galleries of 
 Florence, 73 ; the wicked wasp of 
 Twickenham, 75; the opera at Flo- 
 rence, 76; arrival at Rome, ib.; 
 buildings, paintings, and antiqui- 
 ties, 78 ; journey to Naples, 80 ; the 
 ruins at Portici, 83; unsuccessful 
 attempt to visit Hercolana, 85 ; 
 arrival at Leghorn, 88 ; tragical 
 history of the Princess Sobieski, 
 89; the court of Turin, 91; intro- 
 duction of French customs in Italy, 
 94; history of Mrs. Goldsworthy, 
 96; arrival at Geneva, 97; cha- 
 racter of its inhabitants, ib. ; resi- 
 dence at Cliambery, 98 ; prospect 
 of war in Italy, 101 ; conduct of her 
 son, 102, 106, 108-124; the nobility 
 of Avignon, 125; Lady Mary's good 
 offices forthe Protestants of Nismes, 
 127; government of Avignon, 132; 
 death of Pope, 136; death of Lady 
 Euston, 1 37 and n. ; Thoresby burnt, 
 
 140; carelessness of Lord Oxford as 
 to his books and MSS., 141; mis- 
 carriage of letters, 144, 146; leaves 
 Avignon and returns to Italy, 148; 
 attack of fever, 150; the carnival 
 at Brescia, 152, 160; visit from a 
 numerous company, 158; the opera 
 at Brescia, 161 ; tar-water and 
 Ward's drops, ib.; private thea- 
 tricals, 164; Lady Mary's farm- 
 house, 165; cultivates the tea- 
 plant, 168 ; her fondness for gar- 
 dening, 169 ; visit from the Duchess 
 of Guastalla, 173 ; Lady Frances 
 Pierrepont, 176 and n. ; inscription 
 at Gottolengo, 178; gaming, 182; 
 Fielding's Works, 186; adventure 
 of Signora Laura Bono, 188; severe 
 illness, 193 ; Sir JohnRawdon, 194 ; 
 Mademoiselle de la Touclie, 195 ; 
 antiquarian discovery, 196 ; the pa- 
 lace of Salo, 197; Maderna, 199; 
 Works of Sarah Fielding, 200 ; taste 
 for light reading, 201 ; thoughts on 
 old age, 203 ; introduction of Eng- 
 lish housewifery, 206 ; Lady Ox- 
 ford's second marriage, 207, 208 ; 
 the Islington Spa, 209 n. ; the old 
 woman of Lovere, 211; laws and 
 customs in Italy, 213; divorce in' 
 Genoa, ib. ; government of children, 
 215; Lady Vane's Memoirs, 217; 
 remarks on various other works, 
 219; remarks on learning in wo- 
 men, 225; death of the Doge of 
 Venice, 231; the English at Rome, 
 235; Lord Cornbury, 239; the Car. 
 dinal Quirini, 240 ; interruption of 
 correspondence, 243 ; an Italian 
 nunnery, 246; removal to Lovere, 
 249 ; purchase of a house, 251 ; re- 
 marks on Pope and Swift, 252 ; on 
 Lord Bolingbrokfi and Pope, 257 ; 
 Cardinal Quirini, 260; an Italian 
 Pamela, 262 ; further remarks on 
 Lord Bolingbroke, 268 ; death of 
 Cardinal Quirini, 272 ; Lord Corn- 
 bury and the Duchess of Queens- 
 berry, 274; death of Lord Mont- 
 ford, 275 and n. ; the Marquis 
 Maffei, 277 ; remarks on books, 279 ; 
 Henry Fielding, 282 ; Richardson's 
 Works, 285 ; his project for an 
 English monastery, 291 ; Lady Dal- 
 keith and Mr. Townshend, 292; 
 the Marchioness Lyscinnia Benti- 
 voglio and her husband, 294 ; story 
 of two Greek ladies, 297 ; death of 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 517 
 
 Sir William Lowther, 300 ; Captain 
 Cunningliam at Minorca, 303 and n. ; 
 Mr. Murray, the English Uesident 
 at Venice, 307 ; British ministers 
 abroad, i6.; Mr. Greville's curious 
 book, 312 ; ministerial changes, 
 315; infirmities of age, 315; Lord 
 Mandeville, 317; arrival of Sir 
 James and Lady Steuart, 318; im- 
 positions on the English, 320; re- 
 tirement to Padua, 322; matrimo- 
 nial projects for her grandchildren, 
 323 ; Dean Swift and Bishop Bur- 
 net contrasted, 325 ; Mr. Mackenzie, 
 the Resident at Turin, 326 ; Vene- 
 tian marriage customs, 330 ; dislike 
 of court life, 331; hysterical affec- 
 tions, 333 ; effects of time on mind 
 and face, 335; writing a History of 
 her own time, 338; signora raadre 
 and her daughters, 339 ; the car- 
 nival at Venice, 341; Horace Wal- 
 pole, 34-t ; jocular remarks on witch- 
 craft, 347;'death of the Duke of 
 Marlborough, 348 ; the Earl of 
 Northampton, 352 ; extensive views 
 and limited powers, 353; Italian 
 fashion of suicide, 357 ; predestina- 
 tion, 358 ; employment of an ama- 
 nuensis, 362; Dr. J * " *, 366 ; Mr. 
 Southwell, 369; Swift's history of 
 Queen Anne, 370; society at Ve- 
 nice, 373 ; Sir James Steuart's Poli- 
 tical Economy, 375; the Venetian 
 envoys, 381 ; reflections on the ac- 
 cession of George III., 382 ; con- 
 templated return to England, 383 ; 
 difficulties on the journey, 335; de- 
 tention by bad weather, 387; arrival 
 in London, 389; her death, i. 48; 
 her translation of the Enchiridion 
 of Epictetus, ii. 391 ; her Essays, 
 413; Poems, 429 
 
 Montford, Henry Bromley Lord, com- 
 mits suicide, ii. 275 n. 
 
 Moon, hymn to the, ii. 487 
 
 Mordaunt, Colonel Charles, i. 429 n. 
 
 Morpeth, Lord, ii. 34 and n., 44 
 
 Mosques — description of that built by 
 Selim I., i. 324; of St. Sophia, 354; 
 of Sultan Solyman, 355 ; other 
 mosques, 356 
 
 Motteux, a " china-man" and poet, ii. 
 446 n. 
 
 Mountstuart, Lord, afterwards first 
 Marquis of Bute, his illness, ii. 
 248 
 
 Moxo, Dr. (Mora), ii. 348 
 
 Mummy, curious adventure of one in 
 Turkey, i. 330 
 
 Murray, Mr., afterwards Lord Mans- 
 field, married to Lady Betty Finch, 
 ii. 27 n. 
 
 English resident at Vienna, 
 
 Lady Mary's remarks respecting, 
 ii. 307, 364 
 
 Mrs. (Griselda Baillie), her dis- 
 pute with Lady Mary, i. 97, 482 
 
 N. 
 
 Naples, letters from, ii. 81-83; opera 
 in, 82 ; mild climate of, 83 
 
 Neapolitans, Lady Mary's opinion of 
 the, ii. 82 
 
 New Atalantis, key to the, i. 145 
 
 Nicolini, the singer, account of, i. 
 163 n. 
 
 Nimeguen, letter from, i. 223 ; com- 
 parison between tlie town of, and 
 Nottingham, ib. 
 
 Nismes, Lady Mary's intercession for 
 the Protestants in, ii. 127 
 
 Nissa, town of, i. 282 
 
 Noel, Biddy, remarks on her mar- 
 riage with Lord Milsington, i. 481 
 
 Nonsense of Common Sense, ii. 414 
 
 Norfolk, Duchess of, her amour with 
 James II., i. 130 
 
 Northampton, Charles Compton four- 
 teenth Earl of, character of, ii. 
 352 
 
 Northumberland, Duchess of, her will, 
 ii. 32 
 
 Nottingham, comparison between that 
 town and Nimeguen, i. 228 
 
 Nunnery, description of one, in the 
 State of Mantua, ii. 246 
 
 Nuremberg, letter from, i. 230; re- 
 marks on the sumptuary laws in, 
 331 
 
 Nursing, remarks on, ii. 7 
 
 O. 
 
 Octavia, story of, ii. 263 
 
 Ode to Friendship, by Mistress Mary 
 Astell, i. 87 
 
 On seeing a Portrait of Sir Robert 
 Walpole, a poem, ii. 483 
 
 Orford, Lady, observations on, ii. 
 205 71. ; notice of her second mar- 
 riage, 207 
 
 Orkney, Lady, description of her 
 appearance at George II.'s corona- 
 tion, i. 513 and n. 
 
 Oropesa, Count, i. 265 
 
518 
 
 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Orrery, Lord, character of, ii. 325 
 Oxford, Edward Harley second Earl 
 of that family, his marriage with 
 Henrietta Cavendish Holies, ii. 128 ; 
 his death, 92, 93; his will, 93 
 Henrietta, Countess of, her at- 
 tachment to Lady Mary, i. 94 ; 
 notice of her marriage, ii. 128 
 
 Padua, letters from, ii. 324-337; re- 
 joicings in, to celebrate the election 
 of Cardinal Kezzonico to the papal 
 chair, 328 
 
 Palaces — at Vienna, i. 235; at Ha- 
 nover, 258; of the Grand Vizier at 
 Calcedonia, 368; at Genoa, 387; 
 at Eontainebleau, 395 ; at Ver- 
 sailles, 397; near Salo, 197; at 
 Maderna, 199 
 
 Palazzo, Count, i. 43 ; ii. 1 49 
 
 Countess, her attention to Lady 
 
 Mary, ii. 151 
 
 Palfi, Count, retakes the town of 
 Raab, i. 272 
 
 Pamela, observations on Kichard- 
 son's, ii. 289 
 
 Paris, Lady Mary's opinion of, i. 398 
 
 Paulines, religion of the, i. 290 
 
 Pawlet, Lady N. (Lady Isabella Tuf- 
 ton), her second marriage, ii. 193 
 
 Pelham, Thomas Lord (afterwards 
 Duke of Newcastle), Lady Mary's 
 opinion of, i. 211; death of his 
 sons, ii. 53 
 
 Hon. Margaret, remarks respect- 
 ing her marriage, i. 502, 503 
 
 Pembroke, Thomas Herbert eighth 
 Earl of that family, anecdote of, ii. 
 12 n. 
 
 Mary Countess of, her letters to 
 
 Lady Mary, ii. 11, 13 
 
 Pera of Constantinople, letters from, 
 i. 339, 342, 350 
 
 P«terborough, CharlesMordaunt third 
 Earl of, notice of his marriage and 
 death, i. 476; letter from, ii. 22 
 
 Peterwaradin, letter from, i. 270 
 
 Philip, Don, of Spain, ii. 149 
 
 Pierrepont, Lady Elizabeth, account 
 of, i. I 
 
 Lord Gervase, account of, i. 
 
 202 n. 
 
 Lady Carolina, her death, ii. 
 
 236, notice of her marriage with 
 Mr. Thomas Brand, ib. n. 
 
 Evelyn, father of Lady Marj', i. 
 
 2. Ses Kingston, Earl of 
 
 Pierrepont, Lady Frances, married to 
 the Earl of Mar. tSee Mar, Countess 
 of 
 
 Lady Mary. See Montagu 
 
 William, remarks on his ad- 
 herence to the parliament, i. 51 
 
 Pietro Grimani, Doge of Venice, his 
 
 death and character, ii. 232 
 Pinkerton, Mr., error in his " Wal- 
 
 poliana," respecting Lady Mary, i. 
 
 50 
 Pitt, Mr., first Earl of Chatham, Lady 
 
 Mary's opinion of, ii. 313 
 
 Mrs. Anne, appointed to the 
 
 place of privy purse to the Princess 
 Dowager of Wales, ii. 239 ; account 
 of her, 240 n. 
 
 Plague in Turkey, exaggerated stories 
 respecting, i. 307 
 
 Platen, Countess of, account of, i. 
 129; introduces Mr. Craggs to the 
 Sector, 130; created Countess of 
 Darlington, 482 n. 
 
 Poems, ii. 429 
 
 Poland, King of, and the Countess of 
 Cozelle, i. 255 
 
 Politicians, the, a poem, ii. 495 
 
 Polygamy in Turkey, i. 300 
 
 Pomfret, Lady Henrietta Louisa, 
 series of Lady Mary's letters to, ii. 
 24-39, 45, 47, 49, 50, 55, 56, 59, 62, 
 63, 66-70, 77, 78, 81, 86, 87, 90, 
 95, 98, 100, 112, 117, 134 
 
 Pope, Mr., his quarrel with Lady 
 Mary, i. 21-32, 92 ; character of his 
 correspondence with her, 93; pas- 
 sage respecting him in Dr. John- 
 son's Life of Pope, ib. ; his epitaph 
 to the memory of John Hewet and 
 Sarah Drew, 438 ; his house at 
 Twickenham, 461 ; his love of 
 money, ii. 254; his death, 136; 
 notice of his will, 138 ; his letters 
 to Lady Mary, i. 404-448 
 
 Portland, Lady, anecdote of, i. 514 
 and n, 
 
 Portugal, Prince of. Lady Mary's 
 character of, i. 269 
 
 Prague, letter from, i. 253 ; remarks 
 respecting the town of, ib. 
 
 Pretteyn (or Prydden) Sally, i. 463 n. 
 
 Proby, Mrs., i. 464 n. 
 
 Puebla, General, i. 265 
 
 Pulteney, Mrs., i. 467 
 
 Q- 
 
 Queensberry, Duchess of, i. 485; anec- 
 dote of, ii. 36 i death of her son, 271 
 
GENEEAL INDEX. 
 
 519 
 
 Quirini, Cardinal Angelo Maria, 
 character of, ii. 240; works pub- 
 lished by, 260; his friendship for 
 Lady Mary, ib.; his death, 272; 
 his charitable foundations, ib.; 
 medals and statues to his memory, 
 ib. 
 
 K. 
 
 Kaab, description of the town of, i. 
 271 
 
 Bamazan, or Lent, Turkish manner of 
 keeping, i. 382 
 
 Rambler, Lady Mary's opinion of the, 
 ii. 279 
 
 Eanelagh, Lord and Lady, ii. 336 
 
 Ratisbon, letter from, i. 232 ; quar- 
 rels among the residents, 233 ; relics 
 in the churches in, 234 
 
 Eawdon, Sir John, afterwards Earl of 
 Moira, anecdotes of, ii. 194 ; created 
 an Irish peer, ii. n. 
 
 Regatta at Venice, ii. 57, 64 
 
 Religion — of the Turks, i. 289; cha- 
 racter of the Alcoran, 290; religion 
 of the Paulines, ib. ; of the Arna- 
 outs, ib. 
 
 Remond, M., and the South Sea Stock, 
 i. 33-37, 449-460 
 
 Resingade, Mr., his correspondence 
 with Lady Mary, i. 151 
 
 Rezzonico, Cardinal. See Clement 
 
 xni. 
 
 Rich, Lady, account of, i. 100 ; letters 
 to, 243, 259, 394 
 
 Richardson, Mr., Lady Mary's criti- 
 cisms upon his novels, ii. 285, 289 ; 
 his notions of morality, 290 ; his 
 project of an English monastery, 
 291 
 
 Richelieu, Duke of, governor of Lan- 
 guedoc, entertainment in honour of, 
 ii. 127; his conversation with Lady 
 Mary, ib, 
 
 Riots in Wiltshire, ii. 30 n. 
 
 Robinson, Mrs. Anastasia, married to 
 Lord Peterborongh, i. 476 
 
 Robotun, Mr., a French refugee. Lord 
 Townshend's reception of, i. 124 
 
 Rochefoucault, a maxim of his con- 
 sidered, ii. 421 
 
 Rodrigue, D., i. 487 
 
 Rome, concourse of English in, ii. 
 235; statue of Antinous in, 280; 
 letters from, 76-80, 85-87 
 
 Romney, Lady, i. 488 and n. 
 
 Roseberry, James Primrose Earl of, 
 i. 306, 312 
 
 Rotterdam, letters from, i. 225 ; it. 
 
 385-388; description of the town 
 
 and inhabitants of, i. 226 
 Rousseau, his acquaintance with Lady 
 
 Mary, i. 265 
 Eoussi, Lady Charlotte de, ii. 235 n. 
 Roxana, or the Drawing-room, iL ,432 
 Roxburgh, Duchess of, the Roxana 
 
 of Lady Mary's Town Eclogues, i. 
 
 488 re. 
 Royal and Noble Authors, by Mr. 
 
 Horace, Walpole, notice of, ii. 327 ; 
 
 character of Queen Elizabeth in, 
 
 344 
 Rudel, Jeifery, story of, i. 431 
 Russell, Dr., his doubts respecting the 
 
 veracity of Lady Mary's statements, 
 
 i. 287 n. 
 Rutland, Duchess of, said to be mar- 
 ried to her attorney, i. 492 and n. 
 Eycaut, Sir Paul, character of his 
 
 account of Turkey, i. 289, 366 
 
 S. 
 Sacheverel, his trial, i. 150 
 St. James's Coflfee House, ii. 434 
 St. Lawrence, convent of, in Vienna, 
 
 miraculous head of our Saviour in, 
 
 i. 249; dress of the nuns of, ib.; 
 
 interesting nun in, 250 
 
 church of, in Genoa, ii. 387 
 
 fair of, in Paris, ii. 395 
 
 St. Sophia, description of the mosque 
 
 of, i. 354 
 Salisbury, Lord Bishop of. See Burnet 
 
 Sally, her adventures, i. 463 re. 
 
 Salo, description of Lady Mary's resi- 
 dence at, ii. 197 
 Sandys, George, the traveller, i. 377, 
 
 379 
 Saxony, Electoral Prince of, visits 
 
 Venice, ii. 51, 53; entertainments 
 
 in honour of, 54 
 S. C. (Sarah Chiswell), Mrs,, letters 
 
 to, i. 228, 307 
 Scamander river, the, i. 377 
 Scarborough, Richard Lumley, second 
 
 Earl of, account of his death, ii. 
 
 60; Lady Kingston's attachment 
 
 to, 61 
 Schemers, committee of, their objects, 
 
 i. 477 
 Schlick, Count, high chancellor of 
 
 Bohemia, i. 265 
 Schonbrunn, Count, description of his 
 
 palace, i. 236 
 Schoolmaster, curious bedchamber of 
 
 a Turkish, i. 326 
 
520 
 
 GENEEAL INDEX. 
 
 Schulenberg, Mademoiselle. ^Sise Ken- 
 dal, Duchess of 
 
 Soio, island of, inhabitants of, i. 380 
 
 Selivrea, Greek church in, i. 327 
 
 Senesino, the opera singer, i. 476 n. 
 
 Seraglio, in Constantinople, i. 354 
 
 Servia, inhabitants of, account of the 
 oppression of, i. 282, 288 
 
 S^vign^, Madame de, comparison be- 
 tween, and Lady Mary, i. 109 ; opi- 
 nion of her writings, ii. 361 
 
 Shaftesbury, Lord, marriage of, i. 485 
 
 Shebbeare, Mr., ii. 340 and n. 
 
 Shirley, Mr., his marriage with Lady 
 Orford, ii. 207, 208 
 
 Skerritt, Mrs., letter to, from Lady 
 Mary, i. 227 
 
 Miss (afterwards wife of Robert 
 
 Walpole, first Earl of Orford), i. 
 480) her visit to Lady Mary, 493 
 
 Slaves in Turkey, remarks respect- 
 ing, i. 333, 357 
 
 Small-pox, Turkish practice of in- 
 grafting for the. See Inoculation. 
 
 Small-pox, the, ii. 446 
 
 Smith, Joseph, Esq., English Consul 
 at Venice, his collection of paint- 
 ings and gems, ii. 319 n. 
 
 Sraitli, Mary Anne, a servant, ii. 386 
 and n. 
 
 Smith, Mrs., letter to, i. 227 
 
 Smollett, Dr. Tobias, Lady Mary's 
 opinion of his works, ii. 270 
 
 Sobieski, Princess, her tragical death, 
 ii. 89 
 
 Somers, John first Lord, death of, 
 i. 220 and n. 
 
 Songs, ii. 431, 491, 492, 494, 498 
 
 Sophia, Princess, anecdote of, i. 77 
 
 description of the town of, i. 
 
 284 
 
 a name for the Duke of Whar- 
 ton, i. 484, 493 
 
 St., mosque of, i. 354 
 
 Sosi, Count Jeronimo, his love match, 
 ii. 264 
 
 Southwell, Mr., his hideous appear- 
 ance, ii. 369 
 
 Spanish lady, story of one married to 
 a Turk, i. 363 
 
 Spectator, remarks on the, i. 153 
 Stafford, Lady Claude Charlotte, cha- 
 racter of, i. 503 
 Stair, Earl of, his attachment to Lady 
 
 Walpole, i. 499 
 Stanton, Mrs., her death, ii. 152 
 Stapleton, J., his duel with Mr. Cook, 
 i. 481 
 
 Steele, Sir Richard, comparison be- 
 tween him and H. Fielding, ii. 283 
 
 Steuart, Sir James, a Jacobite exile, 
 i. 116, ii. 320; letters to him and his 
 wife. Lady Frances, ii.320, 322, 331, 
 332, 340, 342, 346, 353, 356, 361, 
 373, 375, 380, 381, 385-390; his 
 arrival at Venice, 320; his book 
 on political economy, 376; Lady 
 Mary's endeavours to procure his 
 pardon, 377, 380 
 
 Stewart, Hon. George, killed at Ti- 
 conderago, ii. 341 
 
 Strafford, William Wentworth fourth 
 Earl of, letter to, ii. 22, 23; cha- 
 racter of, 86 
 
 Stuart, William, late Primate of Ire- 
 land, remarkable passage in the life 
 of, i. 91 
 
 Lady Mary, ii. 277 
 
 Sturgis, Mr., ii. 88 
 
 Suicide, observations on, ii. 353 
 
 Sultan golyman, description of the 
 mosque of, i. 355 
 
 Sumptuary laws, advocacy of, i. 231 
 
 Sunderland, Charles Spencer, Earl of, 
 his death, ii. 9 
 
 Sundon, Lady, her illness, ii. 27 andn., 
 55 «. 
 
 Swartzenburg, Count, notice of his 
 retaking tlie town of Raab, i. 272 
 
 Sweating-Pillar, origin of the story 
 of, i. 361 n. 
 
 Swift, Dean, remarks on his Gulliver's 
 Travels, i. 502 ; ballad in his works, 
 606 ; his love of flattery, ii. 252 
 
 Sydenham, Dr., remarks respecting 
 him, ii. 333 
 
 T. 
 
 Talmud, mysteries of the, ii. 346 
 Tarrocco, Count, Lady Mary's opinion 
 
 of, i. 265 
 Tatler, the, and the fair sex, i. 172 
 Tchiorlu, seraglio in, i. 326 
 Teeth-money, demand of, by the 
 
 pashas of Turkey from the peasants, 
 
 i. 288 
 Temeswar, Bishop of, his hospitality 
 
 to Mr. Wortley and Lady Mary, i. 
 
 271 
 Tenedos, island of, celebrated for its 
 
 wine, i. 379 
 Tendour, description of a Turkish, i. 
 
 341 
 Tete-^-tete, the, ii. 437 
 Teynham, Henry Roper eighth Lord, 
 
 notice of his suicide, i. 491 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 521 
 
 Theseus, temple of, at Alliens, de- 
 stroyed by the Turks, i. 380 
 
 Thistlethwayte, Mrs., letters to, i. 232, 
 246, 309, 339, 389, 396 
 
 Thompson, Edward, Esq., married to 
 Mrs. Arabella Dunch, i. 481 
 
 Mrs., Elegy on, ii. 484 
 
 Ticliborne, Mrs. Betty, story respect- 
 ing, i. 509 
 
 To , a poem, ii. 504 
 
 To a friend on his travels, a poem, 
 ii. 454, 455 
 
 To Mr. , a poem, ii. 4C7 
 
 Toilette, the, a poem, ii. 443 
 
 Touche, Mdlle. de la, her intrigue 
 with the Buke of Kingston, ii. 
 195 re. 
 
 Town Etlogues, ii. 432 
 
 Townshend, Charles second Viscount, 
 his marriage with Dolly Walpole, 
 i. 71 ; sketch of his character, 124; 
 appointed secretary of state, ib. 
 
 Charles third Viscount, notice 
 
 of liis marriage, ii. 27 
 
 Lady, account of, ii. 27 n.j anec- 
 dote of, 33 
 
 Tragedy, French tragedians superior 
 to the English, i. 395 
 
 Traineau, the, i. 260 
 
 Trajan's fate, i. 29 1 
 
 Travelling — in Holland, i. 227 ; down 
 the Danube, from Eatisbon to Vi- 
 enna, 235; in Bohemia, 253; from 
 thence to Saxony, 254; in Ger- 
 many, 258 ; by land from Vienna 
 to Peterwaradin, 270 ; from Bel- 
 grade to Adrianople across the de- 
 serts of Servia, 282 ; from Constan- 
 tinople to Tunis, 390 ; from Turin 
 to Lj'ons, ib. 
 
 Travels of Captain Lemuel Gulliver, 
 remarks respecting, i. 502 
 
 Trinity College, Cambridge, inscrip- 
 tion presented to, by Mr. Edward 
 Wortley, ii. 277 
 
 Tripoli, Countess of, story of, i. 431 
 
 Troy, ruins of, i. 377 
 
 Truth, verses to, ii. 430 
 
 Tunis, description of the town of, i. 
 382; tributary to the Grand Sig- 
 nior, ib. ; letter from, 374 
 
 Turin, letters from, i. 388; ii. 44, 45, 
 90, 95 ; description of the town of, 
 i. 388 
 
 Turkey, ignorance of writers respect, 
 ing, i. 289, 329, 360, 371; reli- 
 gion in, 290 ; use of wine in, 
 290, 372 ; antiquities, 291, 356 ; 
 VOL. II. 2 
 
 marriage of the Grand Signior's 
 eldest daughter, 292 ; government 
 of, 293 J the Sultan, 294; the Janis- 
 saries, 295; freedom of the women 
 in, 299, 329, 371 ; amusements, 302 ; 
 customs, ib. ; different styles of the 
 Turkish language, 303; verses ad- 
 dressed to the eldest daughter of 
 the Sultan, 304 ; turned into Eng- 
 lish poetry, 306; exaggerated ideas 
 of the plague in, 307; account of 
 the practice of ingrafting for the 
 small-pox, 308; description of the 
 various animals and birds, 309, 
 310; the houses, 311; harems, ib.; 
 chiosks, 313; observations on the 
 Turkish cookery, 316; description 
 of the harem of the Kiykya, 317; 
 remarks on the Turkish music, 
 319 ; burying-flelds in, 328 ; false 
 accounts of, 334; singular notions 
 in, 340; frequency of fire in, 413 ; 
 climate of, ii.; remarks on the laws, 
 ib.; custom of adopting children 
 in, 364; mode of life in, 369 
 
 Turkish dress, description of Lady 
 Mary's, i. 297 
 
 gardeners, amusements of, i. 302 
 
 ladies, their dress, i. 297; beauty 
 
 of, 298; remarks on their freedom, 
 299; intrigues, ib. ; their preten- 
 sions to the knowledge of enchant- 
 ments, 335 ; their singular notions, 
 340 ; erroneous notions of their con- 
 finement, 361 ; murder of a Turkish 
 female, 362; doctrine of the Maho- 
 metan religion respecting, 371 
 
 language, different styles of, i. 
 
 303; translation of verses in, 304; 
 Lady Mary's English versification 
 of, 306 
 
 love letter, i. 350 
 
 ■ wheat, Lady Mary's opinion of, 
 
 ii. 216 
 
 Turks, religion of the, i. 290, 371 
 
 Turrucca, Count, i. 142 
 
 Twickenham, Lady Mary's residence 
 at, i. 471, 506; the wicked wasp of 
 [Pope], ii. 75 
 
 U. 
 
 Unfinished sketches of a larger poem, 
 ii. 468 
 
 V. 
 
 Valenti, Cardinal, his attachment tq 
 
 the Duchess of Salviati, ii. 89 
 M 
 
522 
 
 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Valide- Sultan, description of the 
 mosque of. i. 356 
 
 Vanbrugh, the architect, i. 206 n. 
 
 Vane, Lady, account of, ii. 20; her 
 acquaintance with Lord Berkeley, 
 36; remarks respecting her Me- 
 moirs, 216 
 
 Vaughan, Lady Anne, her unfortu- 
 nate marriage, i. 57 
 
 Venice, Doge of, his death and cha- 
 racter, ii. 232; his successor, ib. n. 
 
 Lady Mary's residence at, ii. 46 ; 
 
 the opera, 50 ; the carnival, 55 ; 
 regattas, 57, 64; Mr. Murray, 
 the English resident, 307 ; the ear- 
 nival, 341 ; senate of, appoints am- 
 bassadors to congratulate George 
 IIL on his accession, 381 
 
 Venus de Medicis, statue of, at Flo- 
 rence, ii. 74 
 
 Versailles, Lady Mary's opinion of, 
 i. 397; cabinet of antiques in, ib.; 
 colossean statute of Jupiter in the 
 gardens of, 400 
 
 Verses— addressed by Ibrahim Pasha 
 to the eldest daughter of Sultan 
 Achmet III., i. 304 ; Lady Mary's 
 English versification of, 306 ; ad- 
 dress to Mr. Gay, 462; respecting 
 the Duchess of Cleveland, 505 ; 
 written in the ohiosk of the British 
 palace at Pera, 449; addressed to 
 the Imitator of the first Satire of 
 Second Book of Horace, 464; written 
 in a garden, 498 ; written at Lo- 
 vere, in 1736, 502; in 1755, 503 
 
 Vienna, Lady Mary's description of 
 the town of, i. 234; letters from, 
 ib. ; the opera fashions in, 239 ; sin- 
 gular customs in, 244 ; remarkable 
 points of honour in, 247 ; account 
 of the convents in, 249 ; remarks 
 respecting the imperial cabinet of, 
 252 n. ; balls in, 263; healthy cli- 
 mate of, iA. 
 
 Tillette, Madame, i. 484 and n. 
 
 Vor-Hout, the, at the Hague, i. 227 
 
 W. 
 "Wackerbart, Count, ii. 53 
 Waldegrave, Lady, her history, ii. 
 
 360 ». 
 Wales, Prince of (afterwards George 
 
 II.), character of, i. 133; anecdote 
 
 of, 103 ; his quarrel with his father, 
 
 134 
 ■ Princess of (afterwards Queen 
 
 Caroline, wife of George II.), her 
 
 influence over the Prince of Wales, 
 i. 133 ; letters to, from Lady Mary, 
 281, 350 
 Wales, Prince Frederick of, Lady 
 Mary's opinion of him in youth, i. 
 258 
 
 Princess Dowager of, her par- 
 tiality for Lady Bute, ii. 180 
 
 George Prince of (afterwards 
 
 Greorge III.), remarks respecting 
 him, ii. 304 
 
 Walraoden, Sophia de, mistress of 
 the king, iL 30 n. 
 
 Walpole, Sir Robert, his neglect 
 of his son, i. 73; his second mar- 
 riage, ib. ; his gratitude to Mr. 
 Campbell, 118 ; appointed pay- 
 master, 125; his influence with 
 Lord Townshend, iJ. ; his conduct 
 respecting the impeachment of the 
 late ministers, 1 37 ; bill for taking 
 " not" out of the Commandments 
 ascribed to him, 473 ; lines on his 
 portrait, 483 
 
 Lady, her attachment to Mr. 
 
 Sturgis, ii. 82; lines respecting her, 
 ii. ; her second marriage, 207 
 
 Dolly, account of, i. 63 ; her 
 
 marriage with Lord Townshend, 71 
 
 Horace, his antipathy to Lady 
 
 Mary, i. 71 ; suspicion concerning 
 his parentage, 72; his generosity of 
 mind, 73 ; visits Lady Mary at 
 Genoa, ii. 92 ; his " Royal and 
 Noble Authors," 344 
 
 Wastneys, Lady, Lady Mary's letters 
 toMrs.Hewet, bequeathed to, i. 142 
 
 Waters, a banker, and agent for the 
 Jacobites, i. 465 n. 
 
 Weymouth, Thomas Thynne third 
 Viscount, afterwards Marquis of 
 Bath, his marriage with Lady Eli- 
 zabeth Bentinck, ii. 355 
 
 Wharton, Philip Duke of, particulars 
 respecting, ii. 478 n. ; observations 
 on his piety, 479 
 
 Lady J., character of, i. 70 ; 
 
 married to Mr. Holt, 459 
 
 Widow's dress in Vienna, i. 242 
 Williams, Sir Charles Banbury, his 
 
 lines respecting the Duchess of 
 
 Manchester, ii. 159 n.; Lady Mary's 
 
 opinion of, 319 
 Wiltshire, society in, i. 1 50 ; riots in, 
 
 ii. 30 n. 
 Witchcraft, jocular remarks on, ii. 347 
 Wolfe, General, killed at the siege of 
 
 Quebec, ii. 369 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 523 
 
 Wolfenbuttel, Duke of, i. 260 
 
 Prince of, at Venice, ii. 53 
 
 Women, their condition in Turkey, 
 
 i. 329, 37 1 ; in Vienna, 244 
 World, the, a newspaper, acconnt of, 
 
 ii. 319 n. . 
 Wortley, Mrs. Anne, her intimacy 
 
 with jLady Mary Pierrepont, i. 57 ; 
 
 Lady Mary's letters to, 157, 171 
 
 Mr. Edward, character of, i. 
 
 58 ; his introduction to Lady Mary 
 Pierrepont, 4,60 ; his proposals to 
 Lord Dorchester, 8, 61 ; firmness 
 of his character, 62 ; his marriage, 
 11, 63; appointed a lord of the 
 Treasury, 74 ; his embassy to Tur- 
 key, 13, 81 ; presents an inscription 
 to Trinity College, Cambridge, ii. 
 277 J his death, i. 48 ; letters to, from 
 Lady Mary, i. 172-220 ; his journey 
 to Belgrade, i. 77 n.; during her 
 second residence abroad from 1739 
 to 1761, ii. 40-370 ; his letters to 
 Lady Mary, i. 181 ; ii. 42, 43, 304 
 
 Edward, jun., his birth, i. 
 
 20.5 ; his character. 111 ; letters re- 
 specting hitn, ii. 92, 102, 106,- 110, 
 111, 112, 114, 117, 120, 121, 124, 
 138, 162, 204, 210; his interview 
 with Lady Mary, 1 1 4 
 Wright, Mr., remarks respecting, ii. 
 351 
 
 X. 
 
 X , to the Lady, i. 248. 
 
 Y. 
 
 Yonge, Sir William, dialogue between 
 him and Lady Mary, in Dodsley's 
 collections of poems, ii. 346 n. 
 
 York, Archbishop of, assists in the 
 proclamation of George I. at York, 
 i. 209 
 
 Young, Edward, letters from, ii. 11, 
 13; his tragedy of the Brothers, 14; 
 his tragedy of the Revenge, 163 
 
 Zeno, Signer, introduced to Lady 
 Mary, iL 326 
 
 THE END 
 
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