The unpublished letters take up the glorious theme previous to the last
incident named in the published correspondence. The earliest is from
Mrs. Montagu’s sister, Mrs. Scott, to the wife of their brother, the
Rev. W. Robinson, at Naples. The two sisters, Elizabeth and Sarah, loved
each other with intense affection. The younger went long by the nickname
of Pea, from her extraordinary likeness to her elder sister, who used,
before Sarah’s unhappy marriage, to rally her on the obesity of her
lovers and her cruelty in reducing them to consumptiveness and asses’
milk.
_March 28, 1761._ Mrs. Scott to Mrs. Robinson, Naples.—“The Tories are in
high spirits. The king has declared that, as they are possessed of the
greatest part of the property of the kingdom, they ought to have a great
share in the government, and accordingly many are taken into place. The
king was asked what orders he would have given to the dockmen against the
approaching election. His Majesty answered, ‘No orders at all.’ He would
have them left to themselves. Lord Granville said, ‘That was leaving
them to be directed by the First Lord of the Admiralty’ (Lord Anson).
The king replied, ‘That was true; he had not considered that; they must,
therefore, be told to vote for the Tories, to be sure.’ The late Speaker
and the Parliament took a most tender farewell of each other. They
thanked and he thanked, and then they re-thanked, and in short, never
were people so thankful on both sides; and then they recommended him to
the king, to do more than thank him; but he refused any reward. Only,
his son, it is said, will have a pension of £2,000 per annum—a good,
agreeable compliment, and yet what no one will disapprove.”
Walpole describes Onslow’s retirement, after holding the office of
Speaker during thirty years, in five successive Parliaments, in these
words: “The Speaker has taken leave and received the highest compliments,
and substantial ones, too. He did not overact, and it was really a
handsome scene. Onslow accepted a pension of £3,000 a year for his own
life and that of his son—afterward Lord Onslow.”
After noticing the changes in the ministry, and conferring of honours on,
and the granting of pensions to persons of no great public importance,
Mrs. Scott turns to the death of the great master of the ceremonies at
Bath, Beau Nash, and to the conduct of the great statesman, Mr. Pitt.
“Mr. Nash, I believe, died since I wrote to you, and all his effects
are to be sold for the benefit of his creditors, but will not prove
sufficient to pay his debts. Collett now officiates as his successor,
though others are talked of for that noble post; but as neither the
corporation nor the keeper of the rooms seem disposed to annex any salary
to it, I imagine Collett will continue in possession; for I think no one
else will do it without other reward than the honour and profit arising
therefrom.”
Collett, after brief possession of the post so long held by Nash, was
succeeded by Derrick, an adventurer in whom Bath was as much interested
as England was in Pitt, of whom Mrs. Scott thus writes: “Mr. Pitt still
continues in his post. Without connections of any sort, without the power
of conferring honours or places, he commands imperiously, and forces
obedience from mere superiority of parts and integrity. As a statesman he
is self-existent, and depends on none, nor has any dependent on him. He
does not see his oldest friends but when they have business to impart,
obliges none by private benefits, nor engages any by social intercourse.
His mind seems too great for any object less than a whole nation. There
is something very new and extremely surprising in his conduct. He is an
Almanzor in politicks. He is himself alone. How long he can stand thus,
only time can show. As there was scarcely ever an instance of the like,
we have no precedents by which to form conjectures. National prejudices
about Scotchmen are lulled asleep. Lord Bute is high in favour; the city
is pleased with him; the Tories much attached to him. The king is still
generally applauded. Our sex went in such numbers to the House of Lords
at the closing of the session, to see his Majesty on the throne, that
good part of the company fainted away, and not above three lords had room
to sit down....
“My brother Matt is at present prosecuting the minister of Lyminge for
non-residence, in revenge for some offence he has given him about the
tithes; and my father bids fair for being engaged in prosecuting a
clergyman at Canterbury, for saying he was in the Rebellion in the year
’16.... Report says that the Duchess of Richmond and some other ladies,
whose husbands are going or gone to Germany, are going there likewise,
and are to be at Brunswick. I much question whether their husbands will
rejoice in their company, but certainly Prince Ferdinand will not be fond
of such auxiliaries. It is the oddest party of pleasure I ever heard
of. Thomas Diaforus, who invites his mistress to the lively amusement
of making one at a dissection, would be an agreeable lover to these
ladies.... Perhaps they think Germany may afford them more of their
husbands’ company than they can obtain in England; for some among them
would think that a valuable acquisition, and possibly they may not be
mistaken, for a drum that leads to battle may not be so powerful a rival
to a wife as one that leads its followers only to coquetry.”
Mrs. Scott’s reference to Pitt, secretary of state and soul of the
ministry, of which the old imbecile Duke of Newcastle was the nominal
head, seems to have been made with Almanzor’s lines in her memory.
“Know, that I alone am king of me!
I am as free as Nature first made man,
Ere the base laws of servitude began,
When wild in woods the noble savage ran.
I saw th’ oppress’d, and thought it did belong
To a king’s office to redress the wrong,” etc.
The public mind, however, was not so much occupied with men of mark as
with a ceremony which had not been witnessed in England for very many
years. In a letter from Batheaston, September 14, 1761, written by Mrs.
Scott to her sister-in-law, at Naples, she describes the time as one of
general madness, and continues as follows:
“One would imagine that no king had ever married or any state ever had
a queen before. The nation has for some time been and will still longer
be absolutely frantic. The expected princess was to be all perfection,
both in person and mind, and I believe few ever took so much pleasure in
the possession of their own wives as they have in his Majesty’s having
obtained so rare a blessing. I don’t think so great a compliment has been
paid to matrimony for many years past. Miss Arnold, who is gone up to my
brother Morris, in order to be ready for the coronation, has had a sight
of her Majesty; and from her, as well as others, I understand she is very
far from handsome. Her mouth fills a great part of her face. When Miss
Arnold saw her, which was only in passing, she was talking and laughing,
which would shew it in its full dimensions, and she says she could see
no other feature; but we are assured she is extremely good-natured, very
lively, and has an extraordinary understanding. The first part, her
youth renders probable; for the last article, we may rather suppose it
affords a reasonable ground for expectation than that it has come to any
perfection. She has been learning French since she knew she was to leave
Mecklenburgh; and I suppose must have endeavoured to obtain some English,
as the more necessary thing. It is said that Lord Hardwicke wrote over an
account to his wife of her personal defects, which her ladyship read in a
large company. This was repeated to his Majesty, who is greatly offended.
Certainly, it was highly imprudent in the one, and not less foolish in
the other; and I wonder his lordship, after having been married near
thirty years, should not know his wife better than to put it in her
power to commit such a folly, as he might have known how likely she
was to use it to his disadvantage. I suppose the poor man went over in
full expectation of seeing a Venus, and was so amazed that he could not
contain his disappointment.
“As many persons as Greenwich would hold waited there for many days to
see her Majesty arrive, and at last, after having been exposed to those
storms, she landed in Suffolk, and, consequently, did not make her
appearance on the Thames. The rooms at Greenwich let for half a guinea a
day, and the poorest little casement brought in the owner a daily crown.
I hope it has enriched many poor people. Of all the taxes ever levied in
this kingdom, that which will be raised this year on folly will be by
far the highest. I hear there is scaffolding enough erected against the
coronation to hold two millions of people. Almost all the kingdom will
be in London; and many, I suppose, will be reduced to scanty meals for
a whole year to come, by the expenses on this occasion; and if the day
should prove rainy, which the season of the year renders very probable,
those who are not in Westminster Hall or the Abbey will see nothing;
for there is an awning prepared, to be carried over the heads of those
who walk in the procession, in case of rain. The finery of every one
who intends to appear at court is beyond imagination. This kingdom, or
perhaps any other, scarcely ever saw the like.
“The queen’s clothes are so heavy that, by all accounts, if she be not
very robust, she will not be able to move under the burden; but I hope
her constitution is not very delicate, for she did not arrive in London
till three o’clock; and, besides the fatigue of her journey, with the
consequences of the flutter she could not avoid being in, she was to
dress for her wedding, be married, have a Drawing-room, and undergo the
ceremony of receiving company, after she and the king were in bed, and
all the night after her journey and so long a voyage. Nothing but a
German constitution could have undergone it.” ...
Poor Queen Charlotte’s plainness was—as Northcote subsequently described
it, in speaking of her portrait by Reynolds, namely—an elegant, and not
a vulgar plainness. She had a beautifully shaped arm, and was fond of
exhibiting it. “She had a fan in her hand,” said Northcote; “Lord! how
she held that fan!” Of literary news this letter contains the following
item:
“... Doctor Young has written a poem on ‘Resignation,’ and dedicated it
to Mrs. Boscawen. I have not seen it, but have heard it much praised, and
am told he wrote it at the desire of my sister Montagu and Miss Carter,
who requested it in a visit they made him on their road to Tunbridge,
where my sister spent the summer.”
Municipal authorities, more gallant than Mrs. Scott and the female
critics, spoke of the queen, in their addresses, as “amiably eminent
for the beauties of her mind and person.” Many parties who drove into
town to witness the coronation, were made to “stand and deliver” their
valuables by highwaymen, who infested all the roads leading into London.
Those who escaped and got as far as Charing Cross, could go no further,
unless the gentlemen fought way for their ladies and themselves, which
some bold spirits ventured to do. While the great show was in progress,
press-gangs picked up youths likely, however unwilling, to serve the
king; and the city at night was in the hands of a mob, which did with
London, Londoners, and their possessions very much as they pleased. Many
lives were sacrificed, and very little was thought of them.
The night after the wedding, there was a ball at court, so grand that
nothing like it, so it was said, had ever been seen in England. The king
and queen retired at the early hour of eleven. One great feature of the
night was that the Duke of Ancaster, whose wife was mistress of the robes
to the queen, appeared in the dress which the king had worn the whole
day before at the coronation, and which his Majesty had condescendingly
given to his Grace! A pleasanter feature was to be seen in the group of
bridesmaids, who “danced in the white-boddiced coats they had worn at
the wedding.” Liquor and illuminations prevailed outside. “Ah!” said an
observant Smithfield dealer; “what with plays, fairs, pillories, and
executions, London has more holidays than there are red days in the
almanack!” In truth, London was drunk and rampant. It could be both at
small outlay; for mutton was selling at one shilling a stone (in the
carcase), and cognac could be had for nine shillings a gallon!
Lord Hardwicke, named in the above letter, was the son of an attorney,
and rose to the dignity of lord chancellor by his merits. When he was
plain Philip Yorke, he made an offer of marriage to an heiress, a young
widow, with a jointure, whose father asked him for his rent-roll! The
handsome barrister replied that he had “a perch of ground in Westminster
Hall.” The young fellow’s suit prevailed; and the happy couple began life
in a small house near Lincoln’s Inn, the ground floor of which served for
the husband’s offices. The lady was connected with the family of Gibbon
the historian; and she was a wife so good, prudent, and so wise, that
Mrs. Scott’s sneer at her seems quite gratuitous. The poor lady died
three days before the coronation; and her husband in 1764.
Doctor Young’s “Resignation” was the dying song of a man above fourscore.
Its object was to console Mrs. Boscawen for the loss of her heroic
husband, the admiral. In the last century, English heroes were singularly
respected. The Suffolk ladies, of whatever rank, voluntarily yielded
precedence to Mrs. Vernon, “great Admiral Vernon’s” wife.
Mr. Pitt resigned the foreign secretaryship on October 5, 1761. He
and his friends were for declaring war against Spain. Lord Bute and a
majority opposed it, the king agreeing with them. Pitt’s fall was made
tolerable by the pension of £3,000 a year for the lives of himself, son,
and wife. The latter was created Baroness of Chatham; and in three months
war was declared with Spain!
Mrs. Scott to her brother at Naples. _November 28, 1761._—“... Lord Bath
and Lord Lyttelton were both at Tunbridge, and Miss Carter was with my
sister; so, you may imagine, the place was agreeable, and wit flowed more
copiously than the spring. The room she has so long been fitting-up is
not yet finished, but the design of it is so much improved that I really
believe it will be the most beautiful thing ever seen, and proportionably
expensive. Taste, you know, is not the cheapest thing to purchase. Use
and convenience may be provided for at a moderate charge, but great
geniuses are above being contented with such matters.
“I suppose you have heard much of the general lamentations for Mr.
Pitt’s resignation. It is by many thought that his resuming his post
is unavoidable, and, indeed, I suppose it must be so, if affairs take
the turn which appearances give reason to expect. He is more popular
than ever in the city. The procession of the royal family on the Lord
Mayor’s Day was broke in a manner that puzzled people much, as they
could not account for it; but it has since been said it was occasioned
by a multitude of sailors, who forced their way through the crowd in
search of Mr. Pitt’s chariot, from which they intended to have taken
the horses, and to have drawn it themselves to the Mansion House. The
post of honour is not often a place of safety, but I think it was seldom
more dangerous than it would have proved in this case, had they effected
their design; but they could not find him, so he got there with whole
bones, and was received with greater acclamations than were bestowed
on any other person. He endeavoured to get away privately, but the mob
were so very kind that they very near overturned Lord Temple’s chariot,
in which he was, by crowding about it, and hanging on the doors; and a
very long time he was in getting home. I will not say it was tedious,
for the sweetest music is deserved praise. He did not attend the House
of Commons till some days after its first meeting; but when he did,
spoke, by all accounts, beyond what he or any other man ever did, with
perfect calmness and modesty, and, with few words, silenced every one who
endeavoured to oppose him. G. Grenville attempted to answer him, but a
general buz obliged him to sit down. However, the press is loaded with
his abuse. These events are happy for hireling scribblers. They get a
dinner, and can do him no essential harm. So it’s very well. It would be
cruel to grudge them their morsel. I hope it will fatten many a starving
author.
“But to mention those who do not write for bread, and those who contrive
to get both bread and fame together, Lord Lyttelton’s second volume
quarto of ‘Henry the Second,’ is in the press.... Mallett has published
a poem called ‘Truth in Rhyme,’ dedicated to Lord Bute.... I am glad he
can tell truth in either rhyme or prose.... I have heard a _bon mot_ of
Lady Townshend’s, of which no one will deny the truth. Somebody expressed
their surprise that Lady Northumberland should be made lady of the
bedchamber. ‘Surely,’ said she, ‘nothing could be more proper. The queen
does not understand English, and can anything be more necessary than that
she should learn the vulgar tongue?’”
It was at this period that Mrs. Scott became an authoress, in whole
or in part, of a successful, but now utterly forgotten, novel, called
“Millennium Hall.” This book, a single volume, went through four
editions. In the first edition, 1762, the first word of the title is
spelt throughout with one _n_, and in all the editions it is said to be
by a gentleman on his travels. Common report assigned the authorship to
Mrs. Scott, shared, as far as some small help went, by her friend and
companion for years, Lady Barbara Montagu. A copy of the second edition
(1764), which once belonged to Horace Walpole, is now in the British
Museum. On the back of the title-page, Walpole corrects the above sharing
of literary labour in the following words, written in his well-known
hand: “This book was written by Lady Bab Montagu (the sister of George
Montagu Dunk, Earl of Hallifax) and Mrs. Scott, daughter of Matthew
Robinson, Esq., and wife of George Scott, Esq.” It was continued to be
published as the work of a gentleman, in the two succeeding editions; but
Mrs. Scott is still accredited with the greatest share in the labour.
“Millennium Hall” is generally described as a novel. It is a series of
stories of the romantic lives of four or five ladies who, having been
bitterly disappointed in love, and handsomely solaced by riches, retire
from the world and establish themselves in the hall which gives its name
to the novel. It is a name which would lead one to suppose that there is
a sort of millennium peace and happiness achieved there, such as will
be found on earth generally only in the millennium period. The wealthy
and love-lorn ladies of the hall, however, have only founded a female
school and society in advance of contemporary ideas, but having nothing
wonderful, though now and then something eccentric, if weighed by our
present standards. The real interest of the volume lies in the romantic
biographies, and these are narrated with ladylike grace, elegance,
tenderness, and, occasionally, tedious prolixity.
The story represented, with some exaggeration, the lives led by Lady Bab
and Mrs. Scott in their “conventual house” at Batheaston. Both boys and
girls were well trained by those ladies at that place. Mrs. Montagu, in
reference to Mrs. Scott’s good works, so loved her sister as to render
her uncharitable to other people. “Methodist ladies,” she said, “did
out of enthusiasm what Mrs. Scott did out of a calm sense of duty, and
gratitude that the employment was a solace to one who had been cruelly
tried by affliction.” No credit was given to poor Lady Bab, but her happy
temperament could well afford to do without it. Strange as the stories
were which illustrate “Millennium Hall,” they were not nearly so strange
as one which, in March, 1762, Mrs. Scott related to her brother at Rome,
in a letter from Bath: “Those who deal in the small wares of scandal
will not want subjects. Miss Hunter, daughter to Orby Hunter, has lately
furnished a copious topic.... She and Lord Pembroke, in spite of winds,
waves, and war, left this kingdom for one where they imagined they may
love with less molestation,—where they cannot see a wife weep nor hear a
father rage. They set off in a storm better suited to travelling witches
than flying lovers, but were so impeded by the weather, that a captain
sent out a boat and took the lady prisoner; but after he had set her
on shore, he found that, as she was of age, it was difficult to assume
any lawful authority over her; and, after having spent a night in tears
and lamentation, she was restored to Lord Pembroke.... His lordship
resigned his commission and his place of lord of the bedchamber, and
wrote a letter to Lady Pembroke, acknowledging her charms and virtues
and his own baseness (an unnecessary thing, since the latter she must
long have known, and was probably not absolutely ignorant of the former),
but assuring her Miss Hunter was irresistible; that he never intended to
return into England, and had taken care that £5,000 should be paid her
yearly. As Lady Pembroke is so handsome and amiable, perhaps his conduct
will be seen by the world in a true light, without any fashionable
palliations. A report was spread, that they were taken by a privateer,
but I can hear of none but of a very different capture—the clay cold
corpses of Lord and Lady Kingstone, which were on their way to England
for interment.”
The elopement of Miss Hunter (a maid of honour, too!) from Bath with
the Earl of Pembroke formed one of the most delicious bits of scandal
ever discussed in the Rooms, on the Parade, or in the Meadows. The
excitement attendant thereon was shared by the whole country; for Kitty
Hunter was a well-known, and not at all suspected, beauty of the day.
Her father, Orby Hunter, was, at the time of the elopement, one of the
lords of the admiralty. The vessel that brought back the fugitives was
a privateer, commanded by a friend of Mr. Hunter’s. Kitty’s father
declined to receive her, and she accompanied Lord Pembroke abroad. The
earl was a married man. His wife was Elizabeth, daughter of the Duke of
Marlborough. Her exemplary husband wrote to her from Italy a letter, in
which he politely informed her, that though he had lived with her so many
years, he regretted to say he had never been able to love her so well as
she deserved, so thought it best to leave her. Subsequently, he had the
assurance to invite Lady Pembroke to accompany them on the Continent.
“And she,” says Walpole, “who is all gentleness and tenderness, was with
difficulty withheld from acting as mad a part from goodness as he had
acted from guilt and folly.” He had tried to make his wife hate him,
but in vain. It is one of the illustrations of social feeling in the
last century, that neither the rascal earl nor the light-o’-love maid
of honour was thought much the worse of for their shameless conduct.
A “Peerage,” of ten years subsequent to the elopement, edited by a
clergyman, too! the Rev. Frederick Barlow, vicar of Burton, thus speaks
of my lord, who was then living: “His lordship distinguished himself in
the annals of gallantry with Miss H—— about ten years ago, and since
that time,” it, goes on to speak plainly of the earl’s gallantry, “with
several ladies of less note;” adding, “his lordship is universally
esteemed as an accomplished nobleman and a brave officer.” Mrs. Scott
happily goes on to treat of a plainer but much honester woman than Kitty
Hunter: “The queen gives daily less satisfaction, and the people who at
first found her out to be pleasing, seem now to be insensible to the
discovery they then made. Her husband, however, seems fond of her....
Report says the Prince of Mecklenburg, a very pretty sort of man, with
an agreeable person, is fallen desperately in love with Miss Bowes—a
prudent passion; and the girl has no ambition if she does not choose to
be a princess. I fancy, should she become such, he would be richer than
the duke, his elder brother.... Lady Raymond is going to be married to
Lord Robert Bertie,—an union wherein no acid will enter; for they are
both famed for good temper. Mr. Whitehead’s play has been acted and
published, and a poor performance it is. The dialogue flat and ungenteel,
and the plot poor enough.”
Whitehead’s play was a comedy, “The School for Lovers,” in which Garrick
played Sir John Dorilant. The main attraction was the ever youthful Mrs.
Cibber, who, at nearly fifty years old, acted Cælia, a girl of seventeen;
yet Victor says: “She was admitted by the nicest observers to become the
character. This was entirely owing to that uncommon symmetry and exact
proportion in her form, that happily remained with her to her death.” But
there were more extraordinary comedies being enacted in real life than on
the stage.
In a letter from Mrs. Scott to her brother, at Naples, dated April 10,
1762, there are profuse congratulations on the birth of his son, and
a wonderful amount of speculation on mothers, nurses, and on babies
generally, possible and impossible, expected and not expected, overtardy
or too hasty, and all in as plain language as the subject could admit.
The writer then refers to the report of the queen affording promise of
an heir; “but as she is no great favourite with the nation, it does
not seem to afford any great joy.” This leads to a subject that made
a stir among last century ladies who were privileged to go to court.
“A court dress (_sic_) is going to take place at St. James’s, the same
as in France, which greatly distresses the old ladies, who are quite
clamourous on the occasion, and at a loss how to cover so much neck as
the stiffened-bodied gowns are made to show, and which they are sensible
is not very _appétissante_ after a certain age; as likewise how to supply
the deficiency which churlish time has made in their once flowing
tresses. Some younger ladies, to whom nature has been rather a stepdame
than a kind mother, join in their lamentations, and London is in an
uproar. The exultation of those who, conscious of their charms, rejoice
in laying aside as much covering as possible, being as little silent at
the distress of the others. They look on this allowed display as a sort
of jail delivery to their long-imprisoned attractions; and as beauty is
nature’s boast, insist that it should be showed at courts, and feasts
and high solemnities, where most may wonder at the workmanship; and that
fashion has been hitherto unjust in concealing part of the superiority
nature has bestowed upon them. The consumption of pearl-powder will
certainly be much increased; for where there is such a resource, even
fourscore will exhibit a snowy breast, and the corpulent dowagers will
unite the lilies of the spring with all the copious abundance of a later
season.
“... Lord Pembroke, after he got to Holland, wrote to his lady, to desire
her to come to them, assuring her Miss Hunter would be assiduous in her
endeavours to oblige her, and that they should form a very happy society,
if she would bring over her guitar, two servants who play on the French
horn, and his dog Rover! This polite invitation she, Emma like, was
exceeding ready to comply with, but the Duke of Marlborough had rather
too much sense to permit it. His lordship has since written her word, he
shall never be happy till he lives with her again. Absurd as all this
is, it is certainly fact, and some add, that he has advised Miss Hunter
to turn nun! To be sure he best knows how fit she is to take a vow of
chastity! That he may by this time wish she would take any vow that might
separate her from him, is, I think, very probable.”
The general scramble for honours which usually marks a new reign had not
yet ceased. Mrs. Scott thus refers to the part which some of her own
family took in it.
Mrs. Scott to the Reverend W. Robinson. _May 26, 1762._—“I cannot forbear
wishing you could have an Irish bishopric, but your profession are too
watchful to suffer such things to be vacant. I hear our cousin Robinson
does not much like his promotion to Kildare. I suppose he does not
entirely relish rising step by step. All travelling is expensive, and
I believe none more so than the passing through the various stages of
bishoprics; but I think he may be contented to rise _à petits pas_. His
rising at all seems to proceed only from a want of anything to stop him,
according to the philosophical axiom, that put a thing in motion and it
will move for ever, if it meets with nothing to obstruct its course.
Nature went but a slow pace when she made him, and did not jump into one
perfection. Sir Septimus is tolerably contented with his fate in a world
so regardless of real merit, and therefore little likely to reward his
superlative merits. I hear that a week before he had this black rod given
him (a proper reward for a preceptor), he declared that whoever would eat
goose at court must swallow the feathers; but now they have been so well
stroked down, he finds them go down easily enough.”
In a subsequent letter to her sister-in-law at Naples, Mrs. Scott
lightly sketches a celebrated character at Bath.
“This place is by no means full, but it contains much wealth. Colonel
Clive, the Nabob maker (is not that almost as great a title as the famous
Earl of Warwick’s?), lives at Westgate House, with all the Clives about
him. He has sold his possessions in India to the East India Company for
£30,000 per annum, a trifling sum, which he dedicates to the buying of
land. In a time when property is so fluctuating, I think he may see
himself possessor of the whole kingdom, should his distempers allow him
a long life; but his health is bad, and he purposes, when peace is made,
at latest, to show at Rome the richest man in Europe. He lives in little
pomp; moderate in his table, and still more so in equipage and retinue.”
Mrs. Scott now disappears for awhile, to make way for her more celebrated
sister.