[_Letters from my Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, celebrated for her Beauty
and Talents no less than for the introduction of the Practice of
Inoculation for the Smallpox into England, to her Friend the Lady D----n
in Paris. These Letters will dispel the Mystery to the Publick of the Lady
M.W.M.'s quitting England in the year 1739._]
_Writ in the year 1737, Their Majesties George II & Queen Caroline
reigning._
I resume my pen, my dear Madam, to acquaint you with the news of the day,
though 'tis what you scarce deserve from your silence, unless indeed a
letter have miscarried, and 'twill not surprise me if my last hath not
come to your hands, which if so, is provoking, it being writ in my best
manner. I willingly would hear from you, was it but to say you still
exist, for I begin to find myself in the mind of the worshipper of
Minerva, who, receiving no answer to prayers and vows, discharged a
pitcher of foul water in her Goddess-ship's face, declaring he would not
longer be at the trouble to address a lady who would not be at the trouble
to listen, and she might go to the devil for him. 'Tis not however quite
come to this with me, so I continue.
The world riots on at its common pace, and is now come to the pass that
vice is scarce worth the pain of concealing. Yet when it becomes the
general rule, sure there is nothing so stale! Its facility damns it, and
it then must simulate some of the airs of virtue to be alluring. Indeed, I
conclude it not wholly imaginary that, if it was made easier to be
virtuous than vicious, the whole moral balance of the universe would shift
and our present monarch and Madame Walmoden be the saints of a new
calendar. 'Tis here we need the clergy, and, for the life of me, I see not
how else. They lend a _haut goût_ to vice by condemning it; and if
they should disappear, vice must cease to interest and go with them. I
gave this for my opinion to the Queen and Lady Sundon, when they were fond
to discuss metaphysics, adding that the Seven Deadly Sins required the
flames of the infernal regions for their heating and the Ten Commandments
for their encouragement if they could be hoped to flourish in the future
as at present--and they had the condescension to agree.
All this being so, it will give you neither surprise nor concern to hear
my Lord H----d hath run off with his ward, Miss Nanny Graves, leaving his
lady with four children. We shall have them back in a few months with
reputations so little worse crackt than those of the decentest among us as
will not be worth the trouble of censuring, and give neither themselves
nor others the smallest uneasiness.
His Majesty is happy at present in the loss of "that old deaf woman," as
he lately called my Lady Suffolk, who was once his greatest blessing.
There is much I could tell you, but think best not to commit to paper,
save that I hear from my Lord Hervey (who is as much as ever in the
Queen's confidence) of the farewell of Lady Suffolk to Her Majesty. She
lamented to the Queen that she no longer met with the same attention from
His Majesty. "I told her," said the Queen, "that she and I were no longer
of an age to think of these sort of things in such a romantic way, and as
wishing not to encourage it, bade her take a week to consider of the
business and give me her word to read no romances meanwhile, and I was
sure she would think better of her present concern."
She cares little who rules the King, so she and Sir Robert Walpole rule
the kingdom; and indeed does both with the skill of a juggler tossing
balls at Bartholomew Fair. Suffice it to say that she is as complaisant as
ever, and treats the favourites, be they who they will, with a
condescending and smiling geniality that enables her to give many an
unexpected stab--the dagger hid in flowers. 'Tis thus, in my opinion,
every sensible woman in the like case should carry herself. 'Tis not tears
and agonies that move that sex, but good humour and composure, and thus
are they left to their follies while common sense pursues its own objects.
Yet, will a future age credit (what my Lord Hervey tells me) that our
sovereign Lord, wishing to meet the daughter of the French Regent,--a
Princess whose reputation is known to all the world,--writ thus to his
Queen, "C'est un plaisir que je suis sûr, ma chere Caroline, vous serez
bien aise de me procurer, quand je vous dis combien je le souhaite"?
Never was woman mistress of so much tact, nor with more need of it. He
struts like a little despot while the beggars sing in the street:--
You may strut, dapper George, but 't will all be in vain,
We know 't is Queen Caroline, not you, that reign.
He thinks her his slave, and all his sultanas tremble at her nod! Lord,
what a world do we live in! I wonder in how many private homes 'tis the
same.
She is, indeed, an extraordinary woman; and for my part, despising men and
women alike for their motives, I could at this instant form a ministry of
women, with the Queen at their head, no more silly and impudent than they
who now suppose themselves to guide the fortunes of the country. If the
Gods have any relish of humour,--and 'tis to be thought they have, else
had they not created such a miserable little crawling species,--they must
often be witty at our expense. _Quelle vie!_
I comprehend her well. When I give my friendship and confidence and meet
with a scurvy return, 'tis not anger nor aversion it produces in me, but a
complete indifference. Was I to hear tomorrow that Mr Wortley had a train
of charmers as long as Captain Macheath's in the "Beggars' Opera," 'twould
not inflict a pang, so long as he kept within the bounds of prudence and
family decency; and indeed, 'tis as my poor sister Gower said to me more
than once: "'Tis you, sister, for a merciless good sense that makes you
accommodate yourself without complaint to what had drove another woman
distracted." We not married two years before I had to complain of his
indifference and negligence (though no worse), and writ him plainly to
that effect, concluding in the words that, as this was my first complaint,
so it should be my last. I kept my word, and he his course, and we now
correspond with good temper on family interests, and no more.
But since I have spoke of the "Beggars' Opera," know that I have myself
become possessed of a Polly lovelier than any Lavinia Fenton that ever
played the part. 'Tis a romance--heaven send it go no further! Here is the
first chapter.
Being some weeks since at Twicknam, I did not see company awhile, owing to
my cousin's death; for though, as I writ at the time of my father's, I
don't know why filial piety should exceed fatherly fondness, and still
less cousinly, still there is a decency to be exprest in black bombazine
and retirement. Besides, a thousand nothings kept me engaged. I passed a
part of the time writing satires upon the little crooked viper of
Twicknam, Pope--that may appear one day with a decoration from my Lord
Hervey's pen; for Pope's last lampoon on me is a disgrace to any nature
above that of a baboon. So all was pastoral and tranquil.
But, as the Fates would have it, walking one day by the river and (I
suppose) pulling off my glove, I lost the diamond ring that was my
mother's,--the plainest thing and such as may be found anywhere,--a ring
about the finger, of small brilliant sparks. 'Twas not the value, which is
nothing, but I returned home in a scold with my woman Pratt, that was
walking behind me and thinking of nothing but her face, which some
commending have turned her head or she must have seen it fall. She is a
fool, even for her nauseous class. Seeing nothing better to be done, I
caused notices to be writ and stuck about the village that a Lady of
Quality having dropt her ring etc., would give a reward. And having wrote
of my loss to Mr Wortley, my son, and a few friends, fixed my mind with my
usual good sense that I would see it no more.
For upwards of a week nothing took place. I was seated in the garden with
my tent-stitch, when out comes Pratt to say a young woman requested an
audience of me. I was vexed to be disturbed, having on my mind a letter
that morning received to say that young rake, my son, was run off from
Hinchinbrook and none knew where--but you are no stranger to his
behaviour. I therefore sent word by Pratt that I could not see her, well
knowing she would add any force to the information that my words lackt.
But I was vexed to the blood by my young rogue, knowing not where to find
him, and suspecting sonic low haunt in the Fleet.
To my astonishment returns Pratt presently, flouncing and bridling, and
with her a young woman--Heavens! No, but one of the nymphs of the Thames,
or rather, for they are somewhat oozy hereabouts, a dryad of the Richmond
woods, indeed as beautiful a person as ever I saw in my life. There is not
one of our reigning girls to be compared with her for a moment and even my
Lord Hervey's Molly Lepel would vanish beside her, nor could Paris have
any doubt where to bestow the apple. I am an amateur of beauty and can't
forget your Ladyship's praise of my commendation of the fair Fatima,
saying you never before knew one fine woman do such justice to another. So
here I repeat myself.
This fair creature was drest in a plain suit of minunet that had seen
better days, and a straw hat tied with ribbons over a cap of thread lace.
But her eyes! large, black, and languishing, they would have recalled to
me those verses addrest to the daughter of Sultan Achmet,--
Your eyes are black and lovely,
But wild and disdainful as those of a stag,
but for the fall of lashes that hid their soft fire; her hair raven-black,
a bloom I never saw equalled in this country, and her lips a veritable
scarlet and shaped for every sweetness.
Thinks I--'t is well the Duke of Wharton and his club for gallantry can't
see this paragon, else--but I leave the rest to your discretion, for your
Ladyship knows "Sophia" as I call him, as well as I. However, the
agreeablest girl in the world came forward and dropt a curtsey, with her
eyes on the ground, and offered my ring, excusing herself on the scruple
that she must needs give it into my own hand--and all this in a voice like
music.
I leave you to guess if I was pleased, for the ring was on my mother's
hand when she died, and 'twas so prettily tendered, too.
"Well, child, I thank you for your pains," says I "and will, of course, be
answerable for the reward, but give me leave to add that, if I can serve
you in any other manner, 'tis not my custom to leave service forgot; if I
am not mistook, your mind is not as free from care as a well-wisher could
like to see it."
Indeed, there was an air of melancholy about her which moved me
prodigiously, and seeing Pratt flouncing and bustling in such a manner as
denoted her curiosity and jealousy, I dismist her to the house. She can't
endure a face that eclipses her own curds-and-whey skin, and lookt upon my
little thread-satin beauty with a true court malice. I was, however,
really desirous myself to know what had brought so much beauty to
misfortune.
"Madam," says she, "my story is so common that it needs not detain your
ear. My father was a rich Turkey merchant, and I wanted for nothing that
money could buy. But he was bit by some scheme for making more, three
years since; a scheme he compared--alas, too late!--to the South Sea
Bubble itself. And in this he lost all, and I had the pious duty to
support him by my needleworks. However, he sunk under his miseries into a
melancholy that deprived him of life two years since. I nursed him to his
last sigh and then, desiring to lead a life of virtue, I entered the
family of Mrs Lamb, the Levant merchant's lady and a cousin of my father,
to care her children. She carried them down here for an airing, and
walking with the little misses yesterday, I found this ring and have the
happiness to restore it."
She spoke with a propriety I can't describe, and curtseyed to retire.
Indeed, my dear Lady D----n, you had yourself been seduced into the step I
next took, though how far 'twas prudent, I leave you to judge, allowing
the uneasiness beauty causes, go where it will.
"Child," says I, "I thank you, and as for the reward--"
She stopt me with a simplicity and integrity that could not but confirm my
first opinion.
"'Tis not possible, Madam, I should accept it for an act of honesty common
to all decent persons. Refuse me not that privilege, and permit me to
retire, with thanks to your Ladyship for so encouraging a reception."
Again she curtseyed, but I detained her. 'Twas truly a pleasure to see so
charming a creature.
"Child, if not possible I should serve you in one way, it may in another.
If the question be not disagreeable, are you happily placed with this city
lady?"
Her fine eyes moistened.
"No, Madam. Not but what Madam means well, but she possesses not an easy
humour, and Miss Nanny, Susan, Betty, and the rest are hard to be
controlled. I receive but my clothes and food and 'tis very true--"
She stopt what she would have said, with all the easiness of a girl of
quality, but a modesty they have exchanged for the paint-pot and whitewash
in which they now blaze out. What she did not say left much to be guessed.
'T is certainly these rich city folk for an illiberality of mind and petty
spitefullness that inflicts countless stings on their dependants. 'Twas a
weakness, I own, but it then came into my mind on a high point of
generosity (with which I am sometimes took like a colic) to do what I
could for the poor creature. 'Twas to be seen she was educated, and she
presently confirmed my belief that she could read, write, and cast
accompts to perfection, and was skilled in needleworks and household
management. Her expectations of payment did not run high, and 'tis but
reasonable I should consider of this. So was I tempted into what you may
censure as an indiscretion, and said I was in need of one to overlook my
family of servants, and be about myself and my girl, who hath picked up
some little grossnesses from Pratt that I like not. Not that I would
dismiss Pratt, but put this one somewhat above her as her training
deserves. 'Twas charity and carefulness combined.
Sure never was gratitude more lively exprest than when she fell on her
knee and kist my hand, protesting and vowing her life should be the
monument to my goodness. And indeed, think what you will, Madam, 'tis a
girl more suited to the company of persons of quality than to city dames
that drive behind a pair of Suffolk Dumplings with coachman to match,
their own hair and portliness dressed out in the last mode but three. For
this girl fashion mattered not. I dare to swear the more she put off, the
fairer she mist appear, even as our general mother Eve gained no lustre
from her fig leaves nor furs.
'Twas not till the matter was settled and she retired, that my good sense
asserted itself, and thus it said:--
"Come, Madam, what do you know of this nymph that you should be in such
haste to make yourself her guardian? Did you ever know gratitude, or even
decency, in return for a favour? And here have you took a girl into your
family that will certainly draw every rake within thirty miles to hunt
down the prey?"--"No matter," says my conscience (did you credit its
existence, my dear Lady D----n? for so did not I), "if you take not pity
on the wench, she will in three years' time be chargeable to the parish,
with a brat in either hand, cast off for a newer face." 'Tis the way of
the men, and those that trust them embark their little capital into worse
than the South Sea Bubble. I resolved to keep her very secluded and say
nothing of my Polly Peachum (whose name, by the way, is Anne Wentworth)
outside the house, but indeed might as well endeavour to stifle a
promising scandal as such beauty! However, she arrived a week later with
her meagre outfit. 'Twas an odd whim, I own.
Don't I see you now, saying as you read, "Well do I know the sequel. Mr
Wortley comes up from Hinchinbrook and loses the acorn he is pleased to
call his heart to Mrs Anne." You are much mistook, Madam, and was it to be
she, I had as soon that as another, for I might thus acquire the merit
with my husband which the Queen gains with hers by choosing his
inamoratas. It fell out far otherwise to your expectations; and, but for
Pratt's gruntings and grumblings about cuckoos picked up in the street,
which Mrs Anne bore with smiling patience, I had vaunted every day my good
fortune in lighting on such beauty and merit.
My first alarm took place when Molly Skerret comes down one day and sees
her engaged over the lace ruffles of my _negligée_. Says she:--
"Are you mad, Lady Mary, that you will needs have a beauty about you like
yonder? All the men will be running after her. She is a close resemblance
to Sally Salisbury, that hath been the rage--she that some time back
stabbed young Finch and fled to France."
I set it down to spite, for dear Molly is no beauty herself. But the very
next day my troubles begun, for the viper of Twicknam, happening to spy
her in the garden in attendance on my girl, went home swelling with poison
and writ the following, which was handed about all over the place and in
the town.
Narcissa widely from the world retired
So soon's sne saw her slighted charms expired.
But since she still must hope another spring,
(As snakes collect their poison ere they sting,)
She chose a lovely nymph to keep her sweet,
And, willing to be cheated as to cheat,
When in her glass the glowing charmer shone,
She fondly dreamed the image was her own.
This made a great talk, which was against my wish to keep the girl
retired. But you will credit, my dear Lady D., that the malice of this
little crooked monster, who should from affinity be conversant with the
habits of snakes, would not set me against the poor innocent wench that
caused it, and I contented myself with the caution to her that she should
keep in the garden and speak with no men but what I judged proper. I fear
none the less that there may be a difficulty in keeping her, impossible to
be overcome, but will tell you further in replying to your obliging favour
just received.
Before concluding this epistle, which indeed is more truly to be called a
novel, I would have you know that Lady Polden was inoculated, together
with all her family, for the smallpox two months since, excepting only
Miss Jenny, that none could persuade from fear of the lancet. All
recovered after a day or two's disagreeables, but poor Miss Jenny catching
the distemper, supposedly at a masquerade, fell a victim at the age of
eighteen, and was buried a week last Monday in all the forms. 'Tis certain
there are those would sooner die with the approval of the doctors than
live to dance on their graves without it.
My daughter presents her duty to you. I have designs myself to cross to
France ere long, but will not be particular as to plans until I am more
resolved.