ON THE CONTINENT (1745-1760)
Lady Mary stays at Avignon--She removes to Brescia--And then to
Lovere--She abandons all idea of Montagu joining her abroad--Her house
at Lovere--Her daily round--Her health--Her anxiety about her son--An
amazing incident--A serious illness--A novel in a letter--Her
correspondence attracts the attention of the Italian authorities--Sir
James and Lady Frances Steuart--Politics--She is in the bad books of the
British Resident at Venice--Lord Bute--The philosophy of Lady
Mary--Letters to Lady Bute and Sir James Steuart.
Lady Mary liked Avignon so well that she stayed there until July 1746.
Then she moved to Brescia, where she stayed for a year, and then took up
her quarters at Lovere, a small place in Lombardy on the Lake d'Iseo, a
most attractive spot, as she was at pains to tell her daughter at some
length. For some time she alternated between Lovere and Brescia.
"I am now in a place the most beautifully romantic I ever saw in my
life: 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" (she wrote to her daughter from Lovere, July
24, 1747). "To say truth, I have no reason to repent my journey, though
I was very unwilling 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 surprised 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 resembling 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 little distances,
and all built on the sides of hills, which indeed are far different from
those of Tunbridge, being six times as high: they are really vast rocks
of different figures, covered with 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
Richmond-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 gentlemen'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 surprised 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 witness 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 town 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 hanging hills,
and is overshadowed with large trees, that give 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."
Lady Mary, though still corresponding with her husband, had clearly
given up all idea of returning to England or of Montagu joining her
abroad. She was quite content with her state, which, after all, so far
as we know, was her own choice. She took a house at Lovere, and
interested herself in improving it and developing the grounds.
"I have been these six weeks, and still am, at my dairy-house, which
joins to my garden" (she wrote to her daughter in July, 1748). "I
believe I have already told you it is a long mile from the castle, which
is situated 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 earthen-ware (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 embellishment from imagination. It is on a bank, forming a
kind of peninsula, raised from the river Oglio 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 wild vines, which twist to the top of
the highest trees, and from which they make a very good sort of wine
they call _brusco_. I am now writing to you 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 immediately, 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,
inhabited by a nation of nightingales, and filled with game of all
kinds, excepting deer and wild boar, the first being unknown 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."
Lady Mary was now in her sixtieth year, and asked for nothing better
than peace and comfort. Her manner of life she described as being as
regular as that of any monastery. She rose at six, and after an early
breakfast worked in the garden. Then she visited the dairy and inspected
her chickens--at one time she had two hundred of them--and her turkeys,
geese, ducks, and peacocks, her bees and her silkworms. At eleven she
read for an hour, and after an early dinner would take a siesta. Then
she played picquet or whist with some friendly priests. In the evening
she walked in the woods, or rode, or went on the lake. "I enjoy every
amusement that solitude can afford," she said. "I confess I sometimes
wish for a little conversation, but I reflect that the commerce of the
world gives more uneasiness than pleasure, and quiet is all the hope
that can reasonably be indulged at my age." It would not have been Lady
Mary if she had not kept a keen eye on the pence. She was delighted to
be able to say in relation to her house and grounds that "all things
have hitherto 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." She enjoyed the more her evening now and her fish at
dinner, because neither cost her anything. "The fishery of this part of
the river belongs to me; and my fisherman's little boat (where I have a
green lutestring awning) serves me for a barge. He and his sons are my
rowers without 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."
Age dealt gently with Lady Mary. At the age of sixty-two, she could say
that her hearing and her memory were good, and her sight better than she
had any right to expect. She had appetite enough to relish what she ate,
slept as soundly as she had ever done, and had never a headache. Still,
the fact was forced upon her that she was no longer so young as she had
been--which unpleasing reflection she accepted philosophically enough.
"I no more expect to arrive at the age of the Duchess of Marlborough[19]
than to that of Methusalem; neither do I desire it" (she wrote to Lady
Bute in the early spring of 1751). "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 very 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 tell 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 perpetuity of youth
which appears to me as little desirable at present as the babies do to
you, that were the delight of your infancy."
[Footnote 19: The Duchess of Marlborough was born on May 29, 1660, and
died on October 18, 1744.]
She reverted to the same subject when writing to her husband a month or
two later:
"I can 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 compliment 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."
There was, in 1751, some extraordinary incident in the life of Lady
Mary, the true history of which has never been made public.
"Pray tell me," Horace Walpole wrote to Sir Horace Mann on August 31 of
that year, "if you know anything of Lady Mary Wortley: we have an
obscure history here of her being in durance in the Brescian or the
Bergamasco: that a young fellow that she set out with keeping has taken
it into his head to keep her close prisoner, not permitting her to write
or receive any letters but which he sees: he seems determined, if her
husband should die, not to lose her, as the Count [Richcourt] did Lady
Oxford."
No reply to this letter reached Walpole, but his insatiable curiosity
would not accept this as a check, and he wrote again on October 14: "Did
you ever receive the question I asked you about Lady Mary Wortley's
being confined by a lover that she keeps somewhere in the Brescian? I
long to know the particulars."
At the time of this incident Lady Mary was in her sixty-second year. It
is possible, but extremely improbable, therefore, that Lady Mary should
have taken a young man into keeping. Horace Walpole may always be
trusted to make the best of a rumour. Still, it may be stated, on the
authority of Wright, that among Lady Mary's papers there was found a
long account of the matter, written in Italian. In this she mentioned
that for some time she had been forcibly detained in a country house
belonging to an Italian Count and occupied by him and his mother. This
paper, it is further mentioned, seems to have been submitted to a lawyer
for his opinion or for production in a court of law. It may be, of
course, that Lady Mary did, to some extent, adopt the young man, who
thought that by keeping possession of her person he might be able to
extort money from her.
Not long after this business, in fact, in February, 1752, Lady Mary was
reporting that she was well enough in health. She had been reading
Coventry's _Pompey the Little_, and tells her daughter that she saw
herself in the character of Mrs. Qualmsick:
"You will be surprised at this, no Englishwoman 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 his opinion; and I began to be seriously uneasy at it. This useful
treatise has roused me into a recollection of what I eat yesterday, and
do almost every day the same. I wake generally about seven, and drink
half a pint of warm asses' milk, after which I sleep two hours; as soon
as I am risen, I constantly take three cups of milk coffee, and
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., belonging 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 chestnuts. At five in the afternoon I take another dose of
asses' milk; and for supper twelve chestnuts (which would weigh
twenty-four of those in London), one new laid egg, and a handsome
porringer of white bread and milk. With this diet, notwithstanding 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."
Two years later, however, when she was in her sixty-fifth year, Lady
Mary found herself far from well. In April of that year, she told her
daughter: "My time is wholly dedicated to the care of a decaying body,
and endeavouring, as the old song says, to grow wiser and better, as my
strength wears away." Shortly after, she was taken seriously unwell at
Gottolengo. When she had recovered she, always interested in medical
science, sent Lady Bute a full account of her illness and of the
extraordinary physician from the neighbouring village of Lovere.
"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 Gottolengo, and I prepared myself for
death with as much resignation 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 uncommon 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 prescription 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 bancard;
my servants followed in chaises; 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 proceeded twenty miles to Iséo, which is at the head of this
lake. I lay each night at noblemen's houses, which were empty. My cook,
with my physician, aways preceded two or three hours, and I found my
chamber, with 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 pleasure. He has sentenced me to a
long continuance here, which, he says, is absolutely necessary to the
confirmation of my health, and would persuade me that my illness 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 miraculous man. Both his character 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 commonly 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 published
anything; and he has recourse to these manuscripts on every difficult
case, the veracity of which, at least, is unquestionable. His vivacity
is prodigious, and he is indefatigable 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, will 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 condition requires it, he does not only
give them advice and medicines 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 roll or two
that he carries in his pocket, yet blest with such a perpetual flow of
spirits, he is always gay to a degree above cheerfulness. There is a
peculiarity in his character that I hope will incline you to forgive my
drawing it."
It was probably by the advice of her physician that Lady Mary decided to
make Lovere her headquarters. He prescribed taking the waters there and
a long rest. Lovere was a dull place, visitors coming only during the
water-drinking season. The plague that overran Europe in 1626 had
ravaged it: the poor were almost destroyed, and the rich deserted it. A
few of the ancient palaces had been turned into lodging-houses; the rest
were in ruinous condition. Lady Mary bought one of the palaces.
"I see you lift up your eyes in wonder at my indiscretion. I beg you to
hear my reasons before you condemn me. In my infirm state of health the
unavoidable 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 tattered 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 carpenter 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 bedchamber shall also
remain for the sole use of the spiders that 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 my 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 nobody would bid against him. Thus I am become
a citizen of Lovere, to the great joy of the inhabitants, not (as they
would pretend) from their respect for my person, but I perceive they
fancy I shall attract all the travelling English; and, to say the 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."
Lady Mary found great pleasure in her correspondence. It was one of the
occupations with which she solaced her loneliness, and she was never more
happy than when she had an exciting story to set down, for she could set
it down with the ease of a Walpole and an individual touch that was all
her own:
"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 spoken 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 bedchamber by the noise of oaths
and execrations; 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 husband standing with
a drawn stiletto in his hand, swearing she should never see tomorrow'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
expected 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 _chêre
entière_. While she was exercising this generous hospitality, the
husband met midway the gentleman he intended to visit, who 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--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 indeed 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 resolve to make love thus
_extempore_, may pass unobserved, especially 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 sure I did not communicate these reflections. The first
word I spoke was to desire Signer Carlo 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 still 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 believe
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 certainly never happen in England.
The first part of her behaviour deserves great praise; coming of her own
accord, and 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 submission 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 mentioned 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 revenge spurs them on, with much
more pleasure. A dissertation on this subject would engage me in a
discourse not proper for the post."
Lady Mary, being a prolific letter-writer, came under the suspicions of
the Italian authorities, who carefully examined the correspondence--a
fact that was only by a chance conversation revealed to her. "I think I
now know why our correspondence is so miserably interrupted, and so many
of my letters lost to and from England," she wrote to her husband in
October, 1753; "but I am no happier in the discovery than a man who 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 replied, 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? (said I, staring) there is not one cypher
besides the date. He answered, cyphers were only used 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 understood by anybody else.
"Thus I suppose my innocent epistles are severely scrutinized; and when
I talk of my grandchildren, they are fancied to represent all the
potentates of Europe. This is very provoking. 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."
Lady Mary clearly was happy in Italy, and did not in the least hanker
after the delights of London society, which in her earlier days she had
so much enjoyed.
"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. I 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 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 accompanied with pleasures. I have had this morning as
much delight 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
satisfaction my vanity had given me. I have now no other but in my little
houswifery, 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."
Lady Mary made the acquaintance in 1758 of Sir James Steuart,[20] and
his wife, Lady Frances, the eldest daughter of the Earl of Wemyss and
sister of the Jacobite Lord Elcho. Steuart, when making the grand
tour, had met the exiled Stuarts at Rome, and had become attached to
their cause. When the Young Pretender landed in Scotland in 1745,
Steuart threw in his lot with him. On his master's business he went to
Paris, and was abroad when Culloden was fought. When an Act of Oblivion
was passed in 1748 he was exempted by name, and, therefore, his return
was at the time impossible. He and his wife wandered about the
Continent, and it was at Venice that they encountered Lady Mary, who was
delighted with them. "I was charmed to find a man of uncommon sense and
learning, and a lady that without beauty is more admirable than the
fairest of her sex," she wrote enthusiastically to her daughter. "I
offered them all the little good offices in my power, and invited them
to supper; upon which our wise Minister[21] has discovered 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 imagination may support this wise idea by such
circumstances as may influence those that do not know me. It is very
remarkable 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
diversions were forgotten."
[Footnote 20: Sir James Steuart (1712-1780), in 1773, on inheriting an
estate from a relative, took the additional surname of Denham. He was
the author of works on currency and political economy.]
[Footnote 21: The British Resident at Venice at this time was John
Murray]
Lady Mary was anxious that nothing she did should reflect upon her
daughter or in any way affect Lord Bute. "I am afraid you may think
some imprudent behaviour of mine has occasioned all this ridiculous
persecution [by the Resident]" she wrote to them in May, 1758. "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 oftener 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 me."
Although not primarily interested in politics, Lady Mary had met so many
politicians that she was naturally eager to hear what was going on, and
the fact that her son-in-law, Lord Bute, was active in that department
of life made her follow ministerial events in England so closely as
possible. "I stay here, though I am on many accounts better pleased with
Padua," she wrote to her daughter from Venice, January 20, 1758. "Our
great minister, the Resident, treats me as one of 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."
Pitt's Coalition Ministry, formed in June, 1757, in which Pitt and Lord
Holdernesse were Secretaries of State, the Duke of Newcastle First Lord
of the Treasury, Legge Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Lord Granville,
Lord Temple, Sir Robert Henley, the Duke of Devonshire, the Duke of
Bedford, and Henry Fox held office, moved Lady Mary to merriment.
"Your account of the changes in ministerial affairs do not surprise me;
but nothing could be more astonishing than their all coming together"
(she wrote to Lady Bute). "It puts 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
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."
The Resident was, so far as Lady Mary was concerned, an ill-conditioned
fellow. She asked him once or twice for the English papers, but the
reply made, with intention, on each occasion was that they were engaged.
"Since the Ministry of Mr. Pitt," she remarked, "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." Lady Mary was
amused at 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.'"
Lady Mary always cherished affection and respect for her son-in-law,
Lord Bute. He had been since 1747 a favourite with Frederick, Prince of
Wales, who in 1750 appointed him a Lord of his Bedchamber. When
Frederick died in the following year Bute had established his popularity
with the Princess, who, in 1756, secured his appointment as Groom of the
Stole. "I have something to mention that I believe will be agreeable to
you," Edward Wortley Montagu wrote to his wife at this time; "I mean
some particulars relating to Lord Bute. He stood higher in the Prince of
Wales's favour than any man. His attendance was frequent at Leicester
House, where this young Prince has resided, and since his father's death
has continued without intermission, till new officers were to be placed
under him. It is said that another person was 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, etc., who were
about him before will now be set aside, and that my Lord is now the
principal adviser." Neither Montagu nor his wife in their published
correspondence make any allusion to the scandal current about the
intimate relations of the Princess and Lord Bute, though it was so
widely spread it is almost impossible it should not have come to the
ears of one or other of them.
On the accession of George III Bute was sworn a member of the Privy
Council, and in November, 1760, appointed Groom of the Stole and First
Gentleman of the Bedchamber. His influence with the young King was
paramount. "I pity Lady Bute," Walpole wrote to Sir Horace Mann on
January 27, 1761, "her mother will sell to whoever does not know her,
all kinds of promises and reversions, bestow lies gratis and wholesale,
and make so much mischief, that they will be forced to discard her in
three months, which will go to Lady Bute's heart, who is one of the best
and most sensible women in the world; and who, educated by such a
mother, has never made a false step." As a matter of fact, the only
request known to be made by Lady Mary was to ask Lord Bute, through her
daughter, to take care that Sir James Steuart's name was not excluded in
the Act of Indemnity. It is, however, true that there is the following
statement in the Diaries of the Right Hon. William Windham, under the
date of November 25, 1772, which is given here for what it is worth.
"Mr. Montagu told me this evening about Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, that
at her death, 'A note of his was found among her papers for one thousand
guineas,' which had been given her by a gentleman of Ireland as the
premium for some honours to be received through her interest. The
honours stipulated for were not obtained before her death, and the
gentleman upon representation of the story to the family recovered the
note which she had deposited by agreement in a particular drawer shewn
to him. It may reasonably be supposed that this was not the first
instance of her accepting money on those conditions, and that much of
Lord Bute's interest has been employed in her service."
As Lady Mary advanced in the sixties of her life, she looked upon the
world with the eyes of a vast experience, and found it more sad than she
had thought it in youth or middle age. _Vanitas vanitatum_ was the text
of many a homily that she delivered, and a certain sadness replaced the
sense of malice that had once possessed her. Once more than aggressive,
now she had had bestowed upon her in some degree that gift of
understanding that engenders sympathy. As she grew older she grew more
wise, and was anxious to impart her wisdom, especially to her daughter,
for her benefit or for that of her daughter's children.
"How important is the charge of youth! and how useless all the
advantages of nature and fortune without a well-turned mind! 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
curiosity to travel into Moscovy, and now return to England with Mr.
Archer. I inquired after my old acquaintance Sir Charles [Hanbury]
Williams, who I hear is much broken, both in spirits and constitution.
How happy that man might 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 already too large, and hunting after pleasures
that have made him rotten and ridiculous, he had bounded his desires of
wealth, and follow 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 naturally 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 wise
and honest man lives to his own heart, without that silly splendour that
makes him a prey to knaves, and which commonly ends in his becoming one
of the fraternity. I am very glad to hear Lord Bute's decent economy sets
him above anything of that kind. I wish it may become national. A
collective 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 themselves, purely to succour a distressed
princess. I never could hear these praises without some impatience; they
sounded to me like panegyrics made by the dependents on the Duke of
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
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, though they are the proprietors, others enjoy the
profit."
Mary's letters at this period of her life are so entertaining that a few
may well be inserted here for the sheer pleasure of reading them.
TO THE COUNTESS OF BUTE
"Padua, September 30, 1757.
"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 philosophically 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 lest productive of ill consequences. I
think my time better employed 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
plaguing some, and extracting praise from others, to no purpose;
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 childhood, 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."
To THE COUNTESS OF BUTE
"Venice, November 8, 1758.
"... 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 in much intimacy, showed this fine performance to me: we
were very merry in supposing what 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
promised 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 believe
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."
TO SIR JAMES STEUART
"Venice, November 14, 1758.
"This letter will be solely to you, and I desire you will 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 Revelations are not half so mysterious:
what these prodigies portend, God knows; but I never should have
suspected half the wonders I see before my eyes, and am convinced of the
necessity 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 diabolical 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 entirely
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, which 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
creatures alive may find some pleasures. Now observe this comment; who
are the most despicable creatures? Certainly, old women. What pleasure
can an old woman take? Only witchcraft. I think this argument as clear
as any of the devout Bishop of Cloyne'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 public 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 clandestine 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
unaccountable in such sudden likings. I confess, as I said before, it is
witchcraft. You won't wonder I do not sign (notwithstanding all my
impudence) such dangerous truths: who knows the consequence? The devil
is said to desert his votaries."
To SIR JAMES STEUART
"Venice, January 13, 1759.
"I have indulged myself some time with day-dreams of the happiness I
hope 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! 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 Demosthenes, perhaps both:
nothing seems difficult at his time of life, everything at name. I am
very unwilling, 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 powers so miserably limited? This
is among the mysteries which (as you justly say) will remain ever
unfolded to our shallow capacities. I am much inclined 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
determined 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 bad
bargain of being born in this vile planet; where we may find, however
(God be thanked), much to laugh at, though little 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 embroidery on their clothes, and
gilt wood carved behind their 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
possession--I mean the innocent gratification of their senses, which is
all we can properly call our own. For my part, I will endeavour 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 will remember you in the
tenderest manner while there is any such faculty as memory in the
machine called."
To THE COUNTESS OF BUTE
"Venice, May 22, 1759.
"... Building is the general weakness of old people; I have had a twitch
of it myself, though certainly it is the highest absurdity, and as sure
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
inhabit, 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 follies: 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 (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 think my lot very good, that can boast of some sincere friends
among strangers."
Old age will, in the long run, have its way. Lady Mary, as pleasantly
loquacious as ever, found the manual labour of writing not always to be
endured, and she tried the experiment of dictating her correspondence.
"Thus far" (she wrote to Sir James Steuart from Padua, July 19, 1759),
"I have dictated for the first time of my life, 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 will 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 evil,
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), 'will 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, sneering; and the ladies
wink at each other, and hold up their fans. A fine lady of three score
had the goodness 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 the passion I always had both for
reading and drawing.' This good woman, you must know, is half 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 without 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 stern 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
occasioned 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 life, 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?' '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 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 endeavours to set me right,
and I (graceless beast that I am) take up the smoked card which lay
before me, and with the corner 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 affectation 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.--_À 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' I 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 will not doubt I am talking of a puppet-show; and indeed so I am;
but the figures (some of them) bigger than the life, 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 but two
pleasures permitted to mortal man, love and vengeance; 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;
Yet from this weakness you suppose is due
Sublimer virtue than your Cato knew.
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.
"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 believe him when you read his celebrated
works. I have got them for you, and intend to bring them. _Oime!
l'huomo. propone, Dio dispone_. I hope you won't think this dab of
Italian, that slid involuntarily from my pen, an affectation like his
Gallicisms, or a rebellion against Providence, in imitation of his
lordship, who I never saw but once in my life: he then appeared in a
corner of the drawing-room, in the exact similitude of Satan when he was
soliciting the court of Heaven for leave to torment an honest man."