“Yet, while to Mrs. Vesey, the _Bas Bleu_ society owed its origin and
its epithet, the meetings that took place at Mrs. Montagu’s were soon
more popularly known by that denomination; for though they could not be
more fashionable, they were far more splendid.
Mrs. Montagu had built a superb new house, which was magnificently
fitted up, and appeared to be rather appropriate for princes, nobles,
and courtiers, than for poets, philosophers, and blue stocking
votaries. And here, in fact, rank and talents were so frequently
brought together, that what the satirist uttered scoffingly, the author
pronounced proudly, in setting aside the original claimant, to dub Mrs.
Montagu Queen of the Blues.
This majestic title was hers, in fact, from more flattering rights
than hang upon mere pre-eminence of riches or station. Her Essay on
the Learning and Genius of Shakespeare; and the literary zeal which
made her the voluntary champion of our immortal bard, had so national
a claim to support and to praise, that her book, on its first coming
out, had gained the almost general plaudits that mounted her,
thenceforward, to the Parnassian heights of female British literature.
But, while the same _bas bleu_ appellation was given to these two
houses of rendezvous, neither that, nor even the same associates,
could render them similar. Their grandeur, or their simplicity, their
magnitude, or their diminutiveness, were by no means the principal
cause of this difference: it was far more attributable to the Lady
Presidents than to their abodes: for though they instilled not their
characters into their visitors, their characters bore so large a
share in their visitors’ reception and accommodation, as to influence
materially the turn of the discourse, and the humour of the parties, at
their houses.
At Mrs. Montagu’s, the semi-circle that faced the fire retained during
the whole evening its unbroken form, with a precision that made it seem
described by a Brobdignagian compass. The lady of the castle commonly
placed herself at the upper end of the room, near the commencement of
the curve, so as to be courteously visible to all her guests; having
the person of the highest rank, or consequence, properly, on one side,
and the person the most eminent for talents, sagaciously, on the other;
or as near to her chair, and her converse, as her favouring eye, and a
complacent bow of the head, could invite him to that distinction.[46]
Her conversational powers were of a truly superior order; strong, just,
clear, and often eloquent. Her process in argument, notwithstanding an
earnest solicitude for pre-eminence, was uniformly polite and candid.
But her reputation for wit seemed always in her thoughts, marring their
natural flow, and untutored expression. No sudden start of talent urged
forth any precarious opinion; no vivacious new idea varied her logical
course of ratiocination. Her smile, though most generally benignant,
was rarely gay; and her liveliest sallies had a something of anxiety
rather than of hilarity—till their success was ascertained by applause.
Her form was stately, and her manners were dignified. Her face retained
strong remains of beauty throughout life; and though its native cast
was evidently that of severity, its expression was softened off in
discourse by an almost constant desire to please.
If beneficence be judged by the happiness which it diffuses, whose
claim, by that proof, shall stand higher than that of Mrs. Montagu,
from the munificence with which she celebrated her annual festival
for those hapless artificers, who perform the most abject offices of
any authorized calling, in being the active guardians of our blazing
hearths?[47]
Not to vain glory, then, but to kindness of heart, should be adjudged
the publicity of that superb charity, which made its jetty objects, for
one bright morning, cease to consider themselves as degraded outcasts
from society.
Not all the lyrics of all the rhymsters, nor all the warblings of all
the spring-feathered choristers, could hail the opening smiles of May,
like the fragrance of that roasted beef, and the pulpy softness of
those puddings of plums, with which Mrs. Montagu yearly renovated those
sooty little agents to the safety of our most blessing luxury.
Taken for all in all, Mrs. Montagu was rare in her attainments; splendid
in her conduct; open to the calls of charity; forward to precede those
of indigent genius; and unchangeably just and firm in the application of
her interest, her principles, and her fortune, to the encouragement of
loyalty, and the support of virtue.
In this house, amongst innumerable high personages and renowned
conversers, Dr. Burney met the famous Hervey, Bishop of Derry, late
Earl of Bristol; who then stood foremost in sustaining the character
for wit and originality that had signalised his race, in the preceding
century, by the current phrase of the day, that the world was peopled
with men, women, and Herveys.
Here, also, the Honourable Horace Walpole, afterwards Lord Orford,
sometimes put forth his quaint, singular, often original, generally
sarcastic, and always entertaining powers.
And here the Doctor met the antique General Oglethorpe, who was pointed
out to him by Mr. Walpole for a man nearly in his hundredth year; an
assertion that, though exaggerated, easily gained credit, from his
gaunt figure and appearance. The General was pleasing, well bred, and
gentle.
Horace Walpole, sportively desirous, as he whispered to Dr. Burney,
that the Doctor’s daughter should see the humours of a man so near to
counting his age by a century, insisted, one night at this house, upon
forming a little group for that purpose; to which he invited, also, Mr.
and Mrs. Locke: exhibiting thus the two principal points of his own
character, from which he rarely deviated: a thirst of amusement from
what was singular; with a taste yet more forcible for elegance from
what was excellent.
At the side of General Oglethorpe, Mr. Walpole, though much past
seventy, had almost the look, and had quite the air of enjoyment
of a man who was yet almost young: and so skeleton-like was the
General’s meagre form, that, by the same species of comparison, Mr.
Walpole almost appeared, and, again, almost seemed to think himself,
if not absolutely fat, at least not despoiled of his _embonpoint_;
though so lank was his thinness, that every other person who stood
in his vicinity, might pass as if accoutred and stuffed for a stage
representation of Falstaff.[48]